Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: Drax and the chest, and other things. Message-ID: <1992May22.195103.2030@rat.csc.calpoly.edu> From: jax@polyslo.csc.calpoly.edu (Jaxman) Date: Fri, 22 May 92 19:51:03 GMT References: <1992May22.103356.3519@uniwa.uwa.edu.au> Keywords: ha ha ha bing wombles ziggedy ziggedy plop! Zia and company react: > >Zia looks seriously at Drax before leaning down toward him and then... >_apparently_ whispering in his ear. > >Drax responds with, >"Hmmm. I'm not sure. It sounds viable... do you know anyone..." > >...and breaks of as the Old Man who just entered walks up. > >Drax, for the first time, looks some what suprised, as the Old Man >starts to speak in a deep bass which seems to echo in his lungs... >"I have travelled far for this. I have waited long. It is time for you >to lay down your burden... and in doing so for me to be released from >the prison of knowledge which *I* have been trapped in for too long. > >Come Drax. Time is come for me to take the chest. > >I am the Prophet of Way, and am come to find... a new Path." > >Zia is grinning from ear to ear. > >The Prohpet is smiling broadly. > >Drax is...? > Drax seems to hang his head in weariness, and tears drip onto the table, but he looks up at the Prophet and knows the future, of himself and of the chest. He shrugs once, then sighs. "It is as I had hoped it would not be. But, such is the web of the thing that we call life. Here, fine sir, is the chest. May it serve you well, and may it not be too much of a thorn in your side, as it has been to others." Drax pushes the chest towards the old man, and pushes his chair back with a scraping sound. "Lady Saphire, it has been a pleasure speaking with you, and hearing again the zest for life that so many have forgotten. And you, Zia, it has been a pleasure And Rowan's music, and the many other friends that I have found here in so short a time. It has been a good time, a fitting end perhaps." Drax looks towards the bar, whispering "...why must it be so trivial?" and turns to the patrons, and seems to smile resignedly. "Perhaps I shall go upstairs to the royal chambers now" sayeth Drax, but there seems to be a quaver in his voice. He looks at the chest once more, then walks towards the stairs, seemingly lost in thought. As he passes by the block of ice, he walks through the puddle of water that Cromwell had tried to remove. A moment later, his feet seem to slip, or are almost pulled from under him, and his body begins to fall. A sickening crunch is heard as the back of his head slams into a table, twisting his neck around at an odd angle as his body thuds to the ground. The red gauze around his body seems to dim, becoming slowly black, and Drax seems to be trying to speak, but all that comes forth is a croaking noise from his shattered windpipe. And then, the rasping noises ceases, and the gauze around his body turns fully black, falling around his body like a shroud, soaking up some of the water on the floor nearby. A short silence falls over the inn, and Drax's body lies still in the midst of the small puddle, the life now gone from the form, leaving only an empty vessel behind.