From: dahumn@mentor.cc.purdue.edu (James Chattin)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Cleaning up
Message-ID: <48991@mentor.cc.purdue.edu>
Date: 14 May 92 06:36:33 GMT


     But then, the green-cloaked man steps foward, withdrawing a small stone --
perhaps three inches across, but glowing a pure green like the heart of a
living planet -- from a pouch at his belt.  He raises it, and his eye narrow.
Almost simultaneously, a shimmering green dome appears over the battling two,
lances of pure white and a sickly yellow lancing through its shell as the
combatants continue their battle....

     The middle-aged man moves foward, placing his hand against the shell, eyes
narrowing as he concentrates on the battle within.  Titantic energies release
themselves inside it, as the orb's shimmering green takes on a checkerboard
pattern.  Finally, within the sphere, the second enwrapped figure stands, hand
about the demoness' neck, dragging her erect with them.  Three powerful words
are spoken, each making the demoness shriek.  At the third, she howls, and
blinks out of existance.
      "Your Warding is gone, Thuryn."  The woman, for now the second figure is,
most certainly, identifiable as a woman, stands and brushes herself off.  She
wears soft colors, blue cloak and white shirt, pale blue vest and faded pink
laces.  Her carefully-stitched pants are of a dusty charcoal grey, though a
pair of swords rest on either hip, balancing their weights against each other.
Simple, elegant rings gleam on either hand, fingers long like her 6' frame.
She shakes her white hair out, and looks across the assembly.
       Tavis Kyriel Thuryn hands the lady a backpack.  "It didn't need to be
there anymore," he offered in explanation.  "What did you do to her, Solaria?
Disintigrate her?"  At a closer look, he stands perhaps 5'7", 5'8", his frame
decent, though not apparently given over to extreme amounts of excercise.
Gently, he slips the dimly-glowing orb into the pouch at his waist, though the
pouch is one among many.  He looks as though violence is, though not alien,
at least abhorrent to him.
      "Of course not, old friend.  Holy Word is much more effective against
her kind -- especially when it comes from a Power, even one so minor as I."
She smiles, gesturing to the final 'corner' table.
      Tavis stands, gesturing in astonishment at the destruction behind their
battle.  "Then this....this.....ruination, was for nothing?  You could have
gotten rid of her .immediately.??"
      She blinks.  "Naturally."
      "By all the Saints and Angels, Solaria, .why.???"  He stands, stunned.
      Solaria Morningstar Dawndancer laughs quietly.  "Because it was more
.fun. this way.  I didn't use my powers until she used hers.  Fair fight,
up until the little vixen began using her damned gating abilities."  She
turns, looking back the way she'd come, the boards and splinters whirling to
reform themselves.  "There.  As they were."


     The two settle themselves in the last 'corner' table, twin pieces of gold
flickering across the crowded bar to settle themselves on the bar.  Two glasses,
as well as a bottle of chill Fenarian brandy -- peach -- zip back, just as fast,
just as controlled.  The cork is popped, and the liquor flows.