Since the old man insists on me haring off on researching tangents, I might as well put up links to online resources I use for whatever he has me looking for.

Names/Aliases:
Behind the Name

Beer:
Tour Egypt Monthly: Ancient Egyptian Alcohol and Beer
Minnesota State University: Ancient Egyptian Beer Making
National Geographic: "Antibiotic" Beer Gave Ancient Africans Health Buzz

[Translated from whatever Methos is writing in today, because he has a habit of wriitng in dead languages.]

Apparently it wasn't a nightmare. In fact, compared to the last few months, it was rather nice. No one hunting me, no insanity being caused by someone who can't accept his delusions aren't real - though I have to admit it was fun to watch him try to prove that they weren't paranoid delusions. Until the end, when he kidnapped those boarding-school kids, claiming they were mutants, and that there was a hanger under the basketball court. At least I didn't have to explain why I went along with that one to anyone mortal - a prison sentence would not be good for my health.

On the other hand, neither is copious amounts of water when a dam is blown up. It's a good thing I have several aliases set up at any one time, ready for me to step into. Peter Lyman is safely dead at the bottom of a rather large amount of water - if they could find a body at all.

And then the kid in Marseilles after my head, and coming back here... Maybe it's time for a holiday, and the universe decided to oblige. Or maybe I'm just going as crazy as William Stryker.

[/end entry]

[[The following translated from Methos' Ancient Greek to English for the benefit of his player and everyone else.]]

It appears I've arrived at the Hotel California, without sword or clothing. Not at the hands of Alysse, as she'd leave a credit card if she doesn't leave me Ivanhoe. Nor, either, at the hands of anyone else I know, as I've yet to meet anyone I recognize here. No need for money, it appears, as the shop-help (if there is any, I don't recall seeing them) doesn't do anything when you walk out with a new set of clothing. The kitchen staff at the hotel didn't raise any eyebrows when I made off with one of the smaller knives, either. It's balanced well enough to throw if I need to, or conceal.

Now all I need to do is find a way to get back to Bucharest, before the hotel decides I've left without paying, and confiscates my belongings to pay for it. I would rather not have to track Ivanhoe down and re-acquire it. And while I'm doing that, I'll see if the pub I spotted while I was out has a decent beer.

( Methos's Profile )