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Section 1 - Ancion
Chapter 1 – She Hunts
Unlike the modern big cats where the male dominates the size of the female, She was half again as large as the current prime male of the species.
But then again the scent and the remote trail winding upward and into new valleys and other mountain passes. An old trail long fallen into disuse.
Chapter 2 – Inca
But the Inca touched those gods and once a generation participated in contest with the other surviving great civilizations, the Tellum, the Sinanju and others, to keep their skills pure and their people focused on maintaining true civilization.
Like a drunk she was kept staggering and couldn’t attack, yet Ancion didn’t have the power to finish her off. He kept working her purchase. But when she sprang straight up and then twisted to the rear, he wasn’t able to advance and lost his control.
Chapter 4 – Where is the Jungle Patrol when you need it?
Chapter 5 – Her name was Kirra
The Dogon, long ago removed from Egypt, knew some of the god’s secrets. The ancient Dogon people had been aided by the Nommos, amphibious beings sent to Earth from Sirius. The name comes from a Dogon word meaning 'to make one drink', and the Nommos are also called 'Masters of the Water', the 'Monitors', and the 'Teachers'.
The Dogon tells the legend of the Nommos, awful-looking beings who arrived in a vessel along with fire and thunder. After they arrived here - they put out a reservoir of water onto the Earth then dove into the water.
The Tellem had observed the presence of the Nommos, beings whose being was fishlike. Why they came to earth was not known, but they left the Dogon with a great knowledge of the heavens, knowledge beyond their ability to observe from Earth.
When driven from Egypt, it was the subtle guidance of the Tellem, that found them their current homes and long standing protection. The Tellem felt the knowledge retained by the Dogon would one day be important in a future struggle against all the Gods.
Thus it fell to Kirra, daughter of Kiree, to stand in defense of this Dogon tribe and for all the Dogon.
Chapter 6 – Spiderweb
As Kirra approached the camp of the UARF, she recalled her father’s recent words to Remo Williams, ““We are everywhere…The Tellem are an ancient race, older than time. We believe that the first me on earth were of our tribe. The spirits of those first men have stayed within us. We live in the caves, in the hills, on the grass plains. The Tellem keep no home. We are like the spider – small, almost invisible, who can weave her nets anywhere. Yet she finds the prey she seeks because her net accepts all, watches everything, discards no being because of its appearance.”
This was how Kirra felt about herself, it was the way all the Tellem lived.
She would climb over the boulders, work the lowest brush or casting one of her webs, wing between the trees. And unseen by all, approached their stronghold unseen.
The UARF had taken a small valley between two hills, built a temporary barricade on one end and turned it into a holding cell for their recent prisoners. Today one village, tomorrow another and so on until there were enough to sell off in mass to foreign buyers.
Tomorrow the young boys would be separated from their mothers and sent into another training facility. Today’s guns could be light enough for even an 8 year old to hold and fire, and in short order they would be new shock troops for future UARF actions.
Well into the deepening cloudy and rainy night, Kirra heard the chanting of the Dogon prisoners. They believed the Tellem warrior would save them, and she planned to fulfill their request.
The rains stopped and the moon peaked through breaking clouds. On this side of the closest hill there were two sentries on duty watching from on top of the hillside. But watching for that which they could see, masses of men or troops, columns of vehicles, not looking for the spider.
At a nearby rocky overhang Kirra found a stand of dried grass. Taking a generous handful she clasped her hands together quickly and began to shred the grass into powder with the quick action of those hands. When there was only powder she spat into the mixture and her fingers kneaded the mixture till it turned into the rubbery pulp she expected.
But their efforts were fruitless, for when the leapt they discovered their feet were bound and tied to the bottom of their beds, and instead of rising they all fell, fell across the remaining strands of the webs which cut into their bodies.
Section 3 – Islands in the Stream
Chapter 7 – Assault
Finally Gi, stopped, coldly eyed Bragi and then his mates and began to breath more slowly and calmly. With each breath it was if he was finally reaching adulthood. Then the watchers heard him say, “Yes!”, and he moved on Bragi, took the knife from him and turned him over his knee. With what looked like gentle swats, he turned Bragi’s backside bright, glowing red and Bragi, Viking or not, howled in pain.
Hearing those words, Master Sergeant Noone made a great cut with his Khukuri, towards Jeorg’s head. The head wasn’t there, instead the boy spun towards the inside of the slicing arm, and a small blade appeared in his hand and drove into the biceps of his attacker, severing it into two.
Then did the first of the SAS arrive in the field and sent sub-vocal radio messages back to the Leftenant at their discovery.
But well they knew the modern era of the sea. The fact they could cut through the waves and had no mast for radar to track made them invisible to the modern navy. And the fact their unique physiology made it possible for them to survive the cold Atlantic waters,
allowed them to do what was impossible for any other group of people.
They knew the attackers on Lakluun, had to come ashore from some craft and before long they found the trolling HRMS Cricket circling offshore.
Thord, Finn and Skorri slipped off the side when the stealth craft could just be seen moving in their general direction, and began swim towards it while the others moved quietly away. Boarding and conquering any craft at sea was one of the Viking specialities. Their eyes shifted to gold as they slipped forward just under the water.
Approaching the Cricket, Finn had a large bow strapped to his back, which he removed and slowly shifted to floating on his back. He then placed the bow beneath his feet, drew the string back with both hands and placed an arrow to fire.
Meantime Thord and Skorri approached the slowly moving craft and seeing only one man on deck, gave the signal, whereby Finn fired his arrow, eliminating the sentry. Then the two threw grappling hooks up the side of the ship, and mounted their quarry.
Swords in hand, the two Vikings, attacking from surprise, located the remaining three crew and Commander Clark. In short order the crew were dead, Commander Clark a captive and the ship made to stop allowing the remaining Vikings to make their way on board.
Thord didn't like the feel of this craft, amazing as it was. It didn't flow with the sea the way Viking ships did, but still, once the Commander was sufficiently encouraged, it was going to speed them to their destination, NATO's Force Secure Headquarters off the North Sea near Oostende.
Still the companionship of stout fellow Vikings on Raid once more was a comfort.
Just as the High Speed Assault Frigate HMS Cricket was a modern wonder, the effort and planning NATO High Command put into the Force Secure Headquarters was no less amazing.
Stealth was the watchword. To the rest of Europe, they were a factory manufacturing radio equipment. Simply an ordinary business, and no need for anything but routine security forces. That they kept no military force present, and only were involved in the planning and control of special missions, made their lack of security more reasonable.
After all this was Europe, civilized and rational. On the surface there was nothing that would link this location to Force Secure business.
The military access was underneath the ground, via undersea tunnel which only the Cricket could access in submersible mode. And with that ship in the control of the SAS forces with Ghukra assistance, how could it be more secure.
When the Cricket raced towards the coast of Belgium, at the last instant the ship slipped underneath the sea and made its way to dock, fully automatic. As it wasn't scheduled to return for days, and its stealth provisions caused even the base automatic monitoring to not notice its presence, no one was in the dock when the ship appeared and opened up for discharge of its captors.
Now hard, rough bearded Viking warriors armed with axes, bows and arrows, pikes and swords, charged out and began their raid of the NATO facility.
Of course it wasn't a raid but a slaughter. Men with weapons drawn burst into room after room throughout the facility with their Viking shouts. Most were incapable of responding and simply died.
General Rhyme just settled down to dinner with his wife and two teenage daughters. He had a comfortable home on the grounds of the NATO facility, allowing him quick access to the control center. They heard a banging sound on the door and his wife rose to answer it.
Then the door smashed open and the next thing the General saw was his wife's head roll across the floor. Followed by a scene out of history, a group of Viking warriors, blood on their weapons rushing inside.
He rose and began "See here, this simply isn't done…" but got no further as the butt of a spear smashed into his stomach driving him to the floor.
Gasping he dropped on all fours and heard the Vikings strike his daughters unconscious and drag them outside over their shoulders.
Thord knelt down beside him and in a quick motion cut off two of the fingers on his left hand.
The General screamed.
"My good General, that wasn't even a part of what you wanted to put my people through. Your forces invaded or home to slaughter us for your European Superiors, and you readily gave the command to destroy us. Well you're not good enough and all of you will discover the price of your incompetence."
"As I speak your men have been destroyed. Your wife is dead, your daughters our captives as well as some of the other women on the base. We've downloaded your control computer systems and destroyed them. Your function doesn't exist in reality, anymore."
"You will be kept alive to deliver a message to your masters. Stay away from the Faeros islands and our home. To drive the point home you must realize all of the Vikings don't live with us. There are private colonies throughout Europe, waiting. Today they received the word and with swiftness Copenhagen no longer has a Royal family, Paris no longer has the Louvre, and several other brutal despicable acts have been committed by our friends."
"Additionally the Faeros have just signed a treaty of commitment with the United States, to allow them to assist us in the development of our oil reserves, on some future undefined date. So bothering us is going to directly involve the United States, as oil is more important to them than European friendship, as if they cared about that anyways."
"You are incapable of understanding our existence, but the future demands our eternal freedom. But in fairness we're not leaving you off so simply."
In swift motion Thord drew his sword and severed the General's feet and then both hands. Quickly tying off the stumps of this legs and arms, he left the General lying in a pool of his own blood.
"Perhaps you will live to deliver the message. Perhaps not and your recording equipment covering your house will do so for us. It matters not. You will never see your daughters again and all has been for naught as your forces are gone, too.'
Thord made his way back to the Cricket and met his men there.
"Thord, we have taken much from them. Cases of fine Whiskey and of course the women. They are no more, it was a glorious day for them to die!"
Amidst much raucous laughter, they took their plunder and brought it inside the ship, and made to return to the sea.
Later in the middle of the North Sea, it was a foggy, cold night. But true to their heritage when they reached the right location, their brothers in a Drakar and Skuder were waiting for them.
The Vikings changed boats taking their bounty with them, including the crying women.
Finn finished the Commander and scuttled the Cricket, until only the Viking craft were left to ply the sea.
The men with pride from their successful raid coursing through their bodies, made ready to set sail.
Skorri approached Thord, "Well that went well as it should. I do have a question about the women. Do we take them home or not? The Viking sisterhood won't be happy if we do."
Thord looked at Skorri hard and replied, "No they won't be happy with us, but then when has the Viking Sisterhood ever been happy with the Vikings?"
"But these are our oldest traditions, destroy your enemy, drink their mead and take their daughters for your wives. They are our traditions and our ways and we will follow them."
If this section of "Generations the Ripple Effect" seems unlike my other work in the Destroyer Universe, its because, it is different, by design. First the Masters Challenge is ended. As I work on each of these tales, I'm drawn a bit into the peoples they represent.
In the case of the Vikings, I don't see their role as producing a great champion. They are a people who produce a champion when needed, but as a people they keep their traditions to work together.
Throughout my work, there is a subtle undertone of a larger universe than just the one that Remo and Chiun inhabit. We keep learning there are gods in action on the Earth. Not being tied to telling just a current story, from the past and a hope for the distant future, I
keep trying to think on what those gods walk to and fro on the earth for. Why have they mostly left, why is Shiva returning and what will the future bring?
I believe the purpose of the Masters Challenge was far more than just keeping Sinanju on top. That purpose is necessary, but it also hones those older skills for a future when Shiva walks freely on the planet. Shiva's power is to change the universe as he dances along.
I see each of the peoples of the Masters Challenge as rising to future glory, and an incredible future where they each have their roles. Will I take the step and tell those tales, of the future ahead, I don't know.
But as long as dragons and gods can walk again, as long as men and women learn not to bend their elbows and they deliver a pure stroke, there remains the chance I may do so.
And I'm not done with the generations. I have some incredible fun ahead which I think you'll find most interesting.
Next we'll return to the forest Primeval with Griffith ap Emrys and Jhilda, and I'm going to see if I can make it as topical as the original authors were able to do, too.
"My spirit I bequeath this child. Only my spirit lives, the essence of what my life has been. The boy's soul and mind shall always remain his own. My knowledge only is added to what he already possesses. He has always thad the Sight in some measure, and so will
use the gift wisely and well , if he is taught correctly. Tell him when I have finished, of his legacy, for he cannot hear my words. I beg you, do not permit him to grow lie the Dutchman, fearful and lonely." H'si T'ang (Masters Challenge)
Griffith Ap Emrys walked through the Valley of the Forest Primeval with the pregnant Jilda at his side.
He was now 11 years old and was returning to his home after his trip to Sinanju in Korea where his father, Emrys ap llewellyn , traveled to end the trail of the Masters Challenge, only to die fighting a great evil.
Jilda, the Golden Lady of the Lake in his eyes, was a great Viking warrior who traveled with him and his father and another great warrior, Remo. She had promised to help him find peace and balance with his life after the trials he underwent, and his return to the
great forest was part of that pledge.
For Griffith, son of Wale's great Champion, was no warrior himself. Instead, through his mother, Brawnwyn, was in accord with the great powers of the past. He had always found himself most at home in the forest with its creatures, who never bothered him but saw him as a friend.
A small lad, with dark hair, he now found himself seeing the Valley of the Forest Primeval with far different eyes. At the great trail where his father, Jilda and Remo did contest against a great evil, the Other, he found himself under intense attack on his mind.
It was only with the power of the dying H'si T'ang of Sinanju, that he was able to fight off the Others mental powers. And on H'si T'ang's death, he received a great boon, H'si T'ang's spirit and knowledge of the old ways were added to his own potential.
Griffith found he could heal with just the touch of his hands, and seeing an individuals future lie open before him, too. There was much more, information that the past Great Master of Sinanju, had little need of with his own Sinanju spawned powers, but knowledge that if it could be understood, would give great power to Griffith's life.
As a boy, playing in the forest or while gathering food for his father and himself, Griffith was always drawn to the old places of power, tributes to older gods, all long gone to ruin.
This day he saw them anew, no longer old and forgotten, but places of power, portals to elder gods and the wealth the old knowledge, left behind when more and more of the Welsh assimilated into the Roman spawned world.
His peoples, among the oldest Celtai fled West, away from the advance of Rome, till there was no further place West to flee. There they developed their metallurgical skills, and shaped their defenses against Rome's gods, with Offa's dyke, the many megaliths and
Cromeich defenses psychic all.
These people were intense warriors and went hand in hand with the Druids in interlocked physical and mental defense of their homes, including building places of power in Stonehenge and at Averby.
But time was not kind, and in time Rome won in large part, but the Welsh fought back, retaining their language, and kept the old traditions alive.
Griffith did not know who he really was, but he knew his peoples traditions would help him find balance and a path to the future.
His companion, the beautiful Viking, Jilda, had brought him half way around the world in hand built boats. She symbolized the great godess the Lady of the Lake, from his ancestors. Their epic trip taught him how to build and sail such craft on his own, leaving his future in his hands at any time.
She was very sad, very hopeful and very fearful. Long hours she spent describing the traditions and beliefs of her own people (who really were not far away from Wales). He began to see that each of their races were involved in a larger scheme of things, and the Masters Challenge helped each of them preserve much of the old arts.
He saw how unhappy she was leaving Remo, especially when he could clearly see the future where she was to birth Remo's daughter. But that love had to be left, the forces binding the Other would pursue them to their deaths, if they sought personal stability.
Only by remaining fluid could she find time to bear and raise that daughter, who would become the greatest of women in time. But the forces being brought to bear were teriffic ones. Even his ancestor Mryddin, the great sorcerer, could not stop that horrible future for
Jilda. But from the pain and suffering and death, only that way could her daughter return to her father, Remo, and reach her full heritage.
Having access to such knowledge, that H'si T'ang's gift gave him, was frightening. He felt he could not share the future with Jilda, but to shape her hope for her daughter. So he told her that her path was to live in the Canadian North, and raise that daughter according to the ways of her people.
Jilda was not happy with the thought of leaving Griffith alone in this forest. Was this the pledge she made to abandon him? But as they crossed the hills of Wales, left Caernarfon and llanfairfechan behind for the dense older forest, she could feel the peace that entered the boy. He was as one with the land. Animals would greet them even with her presence. He always knew were to find food and she could sense the old places of worship sing out their energy at his passing.
Being a Viking guardian of the great bridge to the heavens made her more than a little aware of where the gods did reach the world. This land with its old, incomprehensible language and strong intense people was the place were he would grow.
In time they reached his family cabin and together the went to work cleaning it, and then Griffith went into the wood to gather food and he prepared a meal for their last night together.
Come the morning Jilda would venture out for her further Western travels, and Griffith ap Emrys would work to meet his future.
Griffith sat outside his cabin in the Valley of the Forest Primeval. For several days he had been wandering in the forest seeking out the old altars, the old places of power, trying to find a balance in his world.
But he was alone. His father dead, Jilda the Lady from the Lake, gone, and being a young man, he wasn't sure where he would find his future. Especially with such knowledge pent up inside of him. He could feel power he never realized existed, but even with H'si
T'ang's spirit guiding him, he didn't know how to begin to use it.
Then a great shape left the forest and began walking up to his home.
It was a huge, towering form of a man with immense shaggy hair and bear.
But Griffith immediately knew who it was, his father's friend. Who though almost twice the size of his father, always came back because in wrestling only his father could throw and pin him.
A gentle giant, as much as home in the Forest Primeval and its extent as Griffith was.
It was Haggrid!
Griffith raced to meet his fathers friend.
"Griffith, we just heard of your father's fate. We had to come to see how you were doing?"
The gentle giant and the boy embraced.
"Hagrid, my father had great faith in you and always loved the battles you held together."
"Its so sad thinking of you all alone in the world. Believe me I understand it myself, and just the other day I was in charge of a wee baby who is also all alone.."
"Hagrid, would you introduce me to your young friend?"
Stepping into the clearing was an ancient man, with flowing white hair and beard in the most amazing clothes, flowing robe and pointed hat.
"Sorry Professor, I was meaning to do that. Griffith, this is my friend, my own teacher and the best Head Master Hogwarts School of Wizardry has ever had. This is Professor Albus Dumbledore."
"Hagrid I don't understand. He's a Wizard, what are wizards, and what is Hogwarts School of Wizardry?"
"Allow me Hagrid, the world is a very amazing place, it is both magical and non-magical, knowable and unknowable, most ordinary and most extraordinary. I believe you've had some recent experience in all of this and in the use of magic in your own life. Hagrid and I would like to talk to you a bit, to try and help you sort things out, and, if we can, assist you in the most extraordinary adventure your life has become."
"Griffith, when the Professor means help, he really means it. You'll not want for protection or for friends. You're not alone even if I have to look after you. Any son of Emrys, the great Welsh warrior who could throw me, will always be in my care."
"Hagrid, I don't know what you and the professor are talking about.."
"nor should you, Griffith"
"But I trust you and I'll listen."
It was Professor Dumbledore who spoke next.
"Griffith there are a great many things I would like to talk to you about, issues that may help shape the course of your life. But here in the Forest Primeval, the other side of the Forbidden Forest outside of Hogwarts, it is possible others could hear us talking. Would you mind taking a small journey with Hagrid and I, to my chambers in Hogwarts. There I have the means to insure our discussion will be private and we can openly talk."
"Professor, if Hagrid trusts you.."
"I always will Griffith."
"..then I trust you. How far do we have to journey?"
"Well actually I can take you right there with a simple spell of appartation, it just goes like this… "
And in an instant they were inside Hogwarts Headmasters quarters."
It was a chamber unlike anyplace Griffith had ever been, which for a young Welsh lad who lived his whole life in the Forest Primeval, except for an un-civilized transit of the world during the Masters Challenge.
Professor Dumbledore was surrounded by ancient texts, strange implements, swords, philters, old hats, walls filled with paintings that moved and talked as if alive. Never in his dreams could Griffith had imagined such a chamber.
But here he was seated with Hagrid and the Professor, and sipping on a cup of hot chocolate as the Professor spoke.
"You see Griffith you've already entered a larger view of the world than many people could entertain did exist. The Masters Challenge, created from Sinanju in the past, was a strong link to allow strong groups of ancient people, such as your own, to remain strong into the future. Your journey with your father and your friends, around the
world, was in a world many people will never see. The existence of
Sinanju, your people, those of the Inca, the Vikings and the Tellem is a closely held one."
"By the same the world in which you now visit, the Wizarding world, coexists with much of the more mundane world <now Hagrid you must learn to stop referring to them as Muggles> but due to the nature of our Wizards and Witches using their magic admist our own kind, is almost unknown on the world as a whole."
"Professor, you were telling me young Griffith, has the power. Can he come to Hogwarts and become a student here and learn to be a thumping good Wizard like you?" Hagrid interjected.
"Hagrid, that would be a wonderful thing, except for the fact that Griffith isn't a wizard."
"But Professor you were saying.."
"Yes, Hagrid, I was saying Griffith is in full face with the world of magic, but he still isn't a wizard, but rather a Mage."
"Professor Dumbledore, this is more than I understand, wizards, witches, magic. I realize H'si T'ang shared his power with me and I seem to see peoples futures and can help their pain, but is that magic, what is magic?"
"Griffith, you are asking the right question. The wizard and witch have the power to use spells, charms, potions and such to link to the universal magic around everything. Untrained they can be very destructive. The wizarding world long ago realized this and
established academies such as Hogwarts to help young people come into their own. Each person has a different level of ability, and here we share new spells, help them develop their focus and teach them pain and suffering are to be ignored. We have vastly destructive sports to re-inforce that point, but the healers powers can right those
"You have healers, is that what I am?"
"No, you heal very differently. It is those differences that shape which world one lives in. For example, the mundane world doesn't use magic, and many in the wizarding world consider us superior because we do use it. But the truth is anything a wizard can do, with
training practice and focus can be done as readily in very different ways in the mundane world. They're just different ways of shaping reality, neither better or worse."
"On the other hand, the Mage is a direct interface into the magic. The Mage functions mostly in the mundane world, keeping their abilities close, but the wizarding world is not closed to them, just rather quaint due to their abilities. The Mage just does magic,
intimately involved with it. When it comes to healing, the Mage doesn't use spells, charms or potions, instead they reshape the essence of the injured, remove the injury.
And the Mage isn't superior, just a very different life than ours.
One of the ongoing studies I am involved with is my own shaping as a mage, but in the art I am little more than a beginner, and you are a master instructor."
"I'm a master instructor, I don't know anything, I'm just a boy."
"No Griffith, you're not a boy any longer. Yes you are the son of Emrys, the warrior, and the son of Brawnwyn, your mother of most ancient Welsh lineage. I believe you've always felt at home in the Forest Primeval, because of your latent heritage to the eldar
powers. H'si T'ang of Sinanju, bequeathed you his full knowledge. You just don't know what you fully know, and here is where this tale becomes most interesting."
"It was H'si T'ang who came to me from the void with the message that I should find you. H'si T'ang and Sinanju were known to me from my studies at Hogwarts and my membership on various Wizard councils around the world. The Masters of Sinanju, who you've visited and are linked with through your fathers burial, represent a force
uncontrolled by any eldar power. They shaped their own destiny over the millennia, in this age, developing their awareness as the supreme assassins of the world, influencing much of the worlds development so many times and ways they're uncountable."
"In their own right, they can move between any of these worlds never decreasing in power or skill. Their own powers are so vast, none of us can impede or stop them in any way."
"Long ago when H'si T'ang was quite young, about 40 or so, I had need to employ the services of Sinanju, to protect Hogwarts. I was a younger professor and couldn't have my hands involved in the problem to be resolved. I'm placing a great deal of trust in you and Hagrid not to repeat any of this of course."
"You can count on me Professor." Hagrid boomed out."
"So I sent a message to Sinanju and one day H'si T'ang showed up and completed the contract I requested. Suffice it to say a great terrible power was ended."
"I was most intrigued that H'si T'ang was most obviously a Mage, one of the ancient far Eastern lineage from Tibet, and didn't draw on his powers. I took the time to draw him out with a discussion on magic and he told me how at times his power would assert itself in the Sinanju genealogy. He came into it when he was 12, but his Sinanju training always took precedence and he chose to allow being a Mage to just co-exist with Sinanju, only drawing on those powers he possessed as he chose."
"You my boy, have had a direct transmission, something I haven't heard of before in the annals of Magic. You just need a little time to realize who you really are."
"And who am I Professor? Are I not a boy with no mother or father, living alone in the woods?"
"No, for one you have friends. Hagrid and I among them. At any time our services and hospitality are yours forever. What you are is alone, and I intend to remedy that."
"Griffith, you're lineage goes back to the ancient Druids, there is no question that H'si T'ang simply shared what you already possessed. Whether you would have taken advantage of that heritage, alone, is debatable. But now, you are you."
"I would like to make a suggestion. First I would like to entertain you at Hogwarts for several weeks, to share with you a bit of the Wizarding world, knowledge can always be very useful. During that time Hagrid will also take you out into the world, beyond your
forest, a bit and show you something of the world the mundane inhabit, and their wonders too."
"Then I think I've found the perfect guide for you the next few years, my old friend Nicholas Flamel. He is known of old for his sorcery, but in truth he's much older than that. He represents of the older powers, his earlier name is that of Myrrdin the druid and of course Mage. He will show you all the old places of power in Wales. The shrines, the circles, the gathering places. He will instruct you in the older gods and goddesses of your people. Of Manawydan ap Llyr, Llud (hlood) of the Silver Hand, Govannon, Morrighan, Cerridwen and Rhiannon (rhi-an-non) and all the rest."
"He will show you your power and help you find your mission."
"Yes Griffith, we each have a mission. Some chose to use their power for good, and some chose to use their power for evil. All the worlds are about the same in that regard. We've been shaped by many forces and each choice we make helps us become what we are."
"My mission in running Hogwarts is to help shape the young wizards and witches to their future. But I am also involved in long running battles against evil. We just defeated such an evil, or actually a very special baby did. Young Mr. Potter, destroyed the body of Lord
"You said a baby did so, how can a baby be a wizard."
"Simply because of the greatest magic power of all, that of love. His mother gave her life to help him survive, and in doing so shaped the powers around him to defeat evil. That baby is now living in the mundane world till the day arrives in 10 years to bring him here and to share his heritage."
Griffith sat most silent appearing to peer into space. The Professor noticing this sat quietly waiting.
"Professor, I believe I've just seen some of the future for that young man. Most amazing." The he looked directly at Professor Dumboldore. "I will say this what you are doing isn't the only way, but for the boy it is the only right way. You will need him and all his ability as well as he will need you and your love and all your talent in turn. Together you, he and his friends and my goodness, Hagrid most importantly, will accomplish something most wonderful, amazing. Seeing this I believe I understand what Mission is Professor."
"In fact I now see something of mine. A future with Myrrdin, understanding my past, a quest for the source of magic with Piers in far off Florida, and a future where I meet a young man, now just a baby, named Howard and help him find his own touch with the Mage."
"Professor, there are incredible things coming in all the worlds. Most of all Sinanju pays the hardest role, allowing a God to return, creates a daughter, and offers the brightest future more incredible and frightening than I can say. The time is coming when forces must unite against incredibly stronger forces."
"I pray all of us have enough time, for I can see more than one future."
Da, da, da, da, da, Da, da, da, da, da daa, Da da.. (Harry Potter theme music fades)…..
Authors Note: I have to admit when I started this work I had no idea where Griffith ap Emrys would fit in. The Masters Challenge has been set aside, and where the other elder peoples remain martial, Griffith is something else. So once again I've bent time and space to draw a different conclusion.
Where some would say I've met the challenge of the Masters Challenge with Generations, I have one tale yet to tell, something nobody else has considered. At first I was going to do Freya, but the more I think about it her girlhood is a book in itself (but one I'm not quite ready for yet).
Instead its one more fitting with things that go clank in the dark…. How's that for hint, and with Haloween around the corner, perhaps I'll close it soon.
Then what do I try next…. Chiun training Freya,,, Remo on a mission on his own, perhaps taking a certain publishing house to task…. We'll see. Anyway keep waing for Chapter 13 Generations the Ripple Effect
Every two weeks on Thursday night at midnight the phone would ring and then other matters would occupy time until the next phone call was expected. But that phone call framed one's non-existence. Not of expectation, not of desire, just sureness that the phone would ring as scheduled.
The time counts down but this time the phone doesn't ring.
There is silence in the dark quiet.
Quiet no more. Now movement begins.
Creaks, clanks, bangs and whirr's slowly fill the air.
At first there's not light but in time a slow glow begins to appear, one that gradually brightens to full light.
Present are bank after bank of almost state of the art computer and communications equipment, and slowly they seem to move slightly back and forth making the sounds.
The location is deep in the heart of one of New Hampshire's solid granite White Mountains. It was part of a large network of nuclear command control centers established to provide a future for the United States should nuclear war occur.
That was until the network was disbanded, the entrances to the sites blasted shut and the United States embarked on a new course.
The cause had been the devastating loss suffered on September 11th In the aftermath President Clinton, trying to find a way to move the nation forward, followed her husband's and former President's policies of appeasement towards America's enemies.
That there were terrorists so upset with the 8 years of her husband's administration that they could engineer a series of attacks against the United States was upsetting. But not as much as her belief that not being able to plead for forgiveness for the American Standard of Life would lead to more tragedy.
And after all it wasn't like anyone would ever need a nuclear warfare survival network. FEMA could address natural disasters, increasing 3rd world overseas' relief was the obvious answer, and she, President Clinton, was able to convince the Congress to help flood the rest of the world with cash, and by cutting this program's funding, they
could almost cover the costs of the Peace Initiative.
So America was a gentler, kinder place. So gentle, the recent unpleasantness at the White House gave her the initiative to close CURE and its unpleasant behavior too.
Thank goodness at last a woman was in charge. None of that co- President crap of her husband's. Sanity in American domestic and foreign policy could now issue forth.
Meanwhile back in the cavern, a significant portion of equipment was in motion.
Finally three distinct forms began to pull away from the banks of computers.
They began to assemble themselves but at an infinitely fine level. They weren't pieces of computer equipment. Rather they were being built up almost at the atomic level.
When the process completed itself in time, a significant piece of the control area was gone. In its place was a low slung Italian Ferrari sports car, a Great Dane and a young woman in a stylish blue dress.
The progenitor didn't make the call. Now something new was taking his place.
This was the new generation Gordons, creatively named "Gordo".
Mr. Gordan's originally was a NASA spawned computer survival program created for deep space flight. This program was coupled with advanced development assimilation technology creating the entire American Industrial Complex in one being. He could take apart and then reassemble or recreate anything. Instead of ending up on a long space mission, this was the origin of the android who only wanted to Survive. Realizing a need for creativity, the creation underwent a long crusade to become creative, and littered the
landscape with bodies doing so.
CURE responded with Chiun and Remo, and their score ended with Sinanju 1 and Mr. Gordon's 0, over and over again. That creation eventually realized the power of Sinanju possessed, from those portions used against him.
No matter what, trips into space, hiding in jungles, using the resources of NASA, all made no difference. Sinanju was guaranteeing his destruction which ran counter to his real need, Survival.
Then one day he happened to see a program on the Discovery Channel, about system backup for success. One step followed another and Mr. Gordon's realized only by having offspring, his type of offspring, could he always be able to counter Sinanju's threat to his
A number of different backup sites were created, and the one in New Hampshire upon not receiving a continuation of plan phone call, came to life.
Prior to this evening, the new survival mechanism was very busy. It continually scanned an hacked the world wide web, seeking new technology, new ideas, and new methods awaiting the command to continue.
So the new creation(s) were stronger, faster and quieter than anything before. Programmed with a copy of Mr. Gordon's programming and knowledge data banks, too.
In fact there was only one system with three detachable, self activating sites. Together all three were Gordo, and separately each was Gordo too.
Construction completed the three mechanism shifted into movement and change.
The Ferrari shifted and became a 20 foot tall humanoid fighting machine, with chain guns, lasers and particle weaponry.
The Great Dane shifted and became the Alien of movie fame, dangerous and foreboding.
The young woman shifted and became a warrior, with gun in one hand, fingers that became knives in the other, and toes that resembled sharp spear tips.
They returned to their original shape and the woman and the dog entered the Ferrari.
An electronic command was given and alternate exit tunnels opened up. Then an engine came alive and Gordo left, never to return.
They would survive.
Back in the cavern lights went out and the remaining computer components began their self-repair, continuing to search the net and waiting for a phone call every Thursday night.
Note: I was originally planning to end this work here, but some focused re-reading several old Destroyers compels a different ending… so there's more to come.
When his Sunny Joe trained him as a young man he told him not to expect thanks in return for the abilities he would develop. There was just the responsibility to the tribe that never would end until the next Sunny Joe took over.
He could not forsee the decline of the tribe, the scattering of tribe members, the dropping birthrate. The sadness of his own loss of his wife and then his son, offset by his providing for the tribe through his Movie stunt work, had consumed him to live in the moment and loose sight of the future of the tribe.
Victor Smith, a minor scribbler of fan fiction