Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: rigler@galileo.ifa.hawaii.edu (Michael A. Rigler) Subject: Thk [Low City / Ratty's] Against the pack!!! Message-ID: <1992Jun24.033415.14554@news.Hawaii.Edu> Keywords: "Save Kron Thread" Date: Wed, 24 Jun 1992 03:34:15 GMT Chars: Kron, Azzar, Colin, HighFlyer & Co, Fenris, Thk, Wasters, Captain Assorted orc hounds and undefined reptiles, low city mob *sheesh* -------------------------------------------------------------------------- The battle is joined! The weaponless lizardman looks for a succulent human to sink his teeth into. "Here Thk!!! Have a trident!" The Lady Azzar cries. Thk whirls to see his favorite weapon sailing through the air towards him -- THE SILVER TRIDENT!!! -- and he raises his arms to catch it. As he does so, his ears are assaulted by a painful high-pitched whistling noise, which is followed closely by an ear-numbing concussion -- **** WHUMP!!! **** -- he lands on his back several yards away, just out of the circle of light near Ratty's. The uncaught Trident skitters and clanks away into the darkness. For the moment he lies motionless, recovering. Though the blast was uncomfortably warm, his scaly skin was not scorched. His sensitive ears have been deafened, though. After a few moments, he becomes aware of the sounds of melee. His newfound friends! He must help them!!! Using his tail for leverage, he flips over onto his stomach and strains to regain his feet. As he does so, he notices an icy-blue flicker of light out the corner of his eye. He grins. "SSSsss...Come to mmmeeeee...." There is a clinking of bottles as the Trident rises out of a nearby pile garbage to hover in an upright position. The lizardman extends his hands greedily, and the tool of the Sea God Sssuthru floats across the alleyway towards him, its length bathed in faintly flickering charge. The alleyway is lit up when the lizardman grips the weapon. His chest expands and his blood surges with eldritch power! His entire frame is carressed by leaping bolts of barely-contained electrical energy, and his head is crowned by a crackling halo of static. But the memories of the myriad ways of control quickly flood back into his conscious mind, and, as he has done so many times before, he masters the weapon and subdues it to his will. The eldritch fires -- both inner and outer -- die down to a maneagable level. But not before Thk catches sight of the terror which stalks him in flickering shadows... Orc Dogs! Hordes of them, slinking up the alleyway with slavering jaws and jaundiced eyes. Behind him, the sounds of battle continue, and Thk becomes periferally aware that new threats approach him and his friends from several directions. Ah well, at least he can try to hold this alley. He turns his atten- tion back to the foe at hand. Ever the master of battle tactics, Thk moves _towards_ the approaching pack, deeper into the narrowest part of the alleyway, where the geometry will constrain the pack's movements. The orc dogs pause in their advance, suspicious. Thk knows that if a pack such as this were to catch him out in the open its members would fan out, rush him from every side, and rip him to shreds. But here, if he can just time it right... ...The orc dogs resume their approach. As they draw near, weaving their way around barrels, stacks of crates and stinking heaps of garbage, Thk can only see them by their eyes. Pairs of eyes catch the pale light of the lanterns near Ratty's and reflect it back to him in blood-red hues. The lizardman senses their hunger, their NEED. It assaults him in nauseous waves. Moving slowly, he levels his trident and shifts his thoughts through the proper sequence, but Trident is hard to control -- even for a master. Thk's concentration lapses and he slips into a memory of his youth... ***** ********* ********* ********* ********* ********** ***** ....He is hanging from his feet in the center of a camp of Generican soldiers. This is back during the earliest days of the War, before the human vermin had suffered any significant losses, when they were still cocksure of themselves. Thk's war party has been trapped and decimated by this latest contingent of fresh human troops. Only four survived to be captured. The other three are strung up nearby. Thk can hear them moaning. Despite himself, Thk has been staring at the tin of water which the soldiers have strategically placed below him, just out of reach of his tongue. He has been hanging in the blazing sun for three days. His skin has turned leathery. He is starting to hallucinate. He raises his head to watch the upside-down boots of a human soldier approaching. The boots stop. "Man. You one big ugly 'gator." The vermin was speaking the Mother Tongue! Or trying to anyway. Thk forced himself to listen. "Later, after you croak, I take you skin. Take it home. Hang on wall of hut. Very pretty. Red tatoos. You look good on wall of hut. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH..." The human's laughter sends his thirst-wracked mind spining into delirium. He looks back at the water tin, and is mildly surprised to spot Sssilliith swimming beneath its surface. Thk grins. The beautiful Golden Carp chimes its sparkling laughter and speaks to him: "CHILD OF SSSUTHRU, WE HAVE MISSED YOU SINCE YOU LEFT OUR UNDERSEA WORLD TO LIVE WITH THE LAND DWELLERS. I HAVE SWUM FAR TO BE WITH YOU. TO BRING YOU THE GIFT OF KNOWLEDGE. SINCE YOU WERE BOLD ENOUGH TO STEAL THE SEA GOD'S TRIDENT, YOU MAY AS WELL LEARN HOW TO USE IT..." The words and sounds made by the Minion of the Sea God are so perfect, so melodious, that they are almost too painful for the lizardman to bear. He writhes on the wrack as the Carp whispers the arcane knowledge into his ears. The image of the Trident comes to mind; but alas the artifact is gone, lost during the battle during his capture. He continues to writhe in frustration for several hours after the Minion has departed. "MAN!" It is the humans again. Thk opens his eyes. Night has fallen. He is surrounded by booted feet. He notices that his fellow captives hang motionless. Dead at last. Only he still lives...barely. "MAN! You carry this!" He can no longer raise his head. The Silver Trident is dropped to the ground within his field of view. "Where you find? What is it? Why vermin carry this? Answer!" Thk opens his mouth and utters a dry croak. The water tin is lifted to his mouth. He closes his eyes as he drinks, and the Trident begins to slide towards him across the ground... ********* ********** ********** ********* *********** ****** ...the nearest Orc Dog, the largest, leaps into a charge. The time is NOW!!! Thk levels the Trident, which thrums with power. For the briefest second, the runes inscribed along its length glow white-hot, then -- *** TCH - AA - ZARK !!! *** -- The lead Dog is caught in mid-leap by one tine of the lightning bolt and ripped asunder! The forks of the bolt continue on to rip through Dog after Dog until the alleyway is raining smoldering scraps of dog meat. Only the hindmost of the pack escape Thk's wrath, and those turn tail and flee in a blind panic. Thk turns to join the main battle... [ADMIN: Don't worry everyone, the Trident requires time to recharge. In the meantime, Thk will revert to more conventional tactics] Rigler -- 'THK' -- Rigler "Tell me tell me what you're after...(I just wanna get there faster)" --The Smashing Pumpkins