From: rigler@galileo.ifa.hawaii.edu (Michael A. Rigler) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Royal Siblings [Palace] Debate the fate of Thk... Message-ID: <1992Jul13.000445.1806@news.Hawaii.Edu> Date: 13 Jul 92 00:04:45 GMT [ADMIN: As my thread has momentarily stalled out, I present here some fodder for y'all to chew on at your liesure...the shape of things to come? I have spun it off the top of my head and I welcome anyone on board to develop this project further...] NPC Chars: Prince Ranek, Princess Piroxia, Wyeriun (Sea Mage), Garrulon (Captain of the Palace Cavaliers), Theroux (Chief of the Panther Guard). To the peaceful sunlit room, there comes the sound of approaching footsteps and voices... With an effort, Prince Ranek looks up from his poem and sighs...a few more lines and the piece would have been finished. Now it is lost for all time. Ah well. He rises from his cushions and limps hastily towards his small throne, and halfway there changes his mind and darts over to the huge wall map comprising Generica and its environs, upon which he and his sister have been making many multi-colored markings these past few days -- especially in the region of the Southern Marshes. At the last moment, he remembers to strike a commanding pose and pluck at his thin moustache. Then he realizes his robe is hanging open. Behind him, the seven Panther Guards scattered throughout the room exchange glances and faint smiles. The young Prince is an endless source of amusement to them. The rulers in their own homeland (on The Dark Continent) would never be permitted to display such petty weaknesses. Nevertheless, for all his faults, Prince Ranek is an accomplished poet. And he pays very well for their services. And they are the very best at what they do. As the double doors open, they casually shift positions about the room and assume seemingly innocuous postures -- as though in repose. The first to enter is Ranek's sister, Princess Piroxia, hand at rapier hilt as always, and fixing him with her infernal mocking gaze. "Greetings, Brother 'Poet.' Look who I have brought for a nice chat." A tall man stands behind her, flanked by an escort of six Palace Cavaliers resplendent in full polished plate. The man tosses back the hood of his blue-on-blue robe to reveal a face both bearded and venerable, set off by eyes of the most piercing blue -- each iris like the eye of a hurricane, the two of which never quite seem to focus on any nearby object or person. It is The Wyeriun, The Marestasi Primus, the most powerful of the Sea Mages of Generica, and Master of Kraken Tower. It is he whose eyes have seen into the heart of the most violent maelstroms, through the maws of thundering vortices, and into the darkest crevices of the undersea deep. It is he who wields the ultimate weapon; he who holds the ultimate safety of Generica's seaport in the palm of his hand. Or does he? Ignoring court protocol, he steps past Princess Piroxia to speak. The visored Cavaliers remain impassive, but the nearest Panther guard reaches up to make a casual adjustment in the cord binding his hair. The old man's gnarled hands are quite empty when he raises them, but his voice is like the whisper of an oncoming gale, which carries the promise of certain violence before the morn: "He is here! * It * is here! In our City. I have felt It's power..." "Yes August Mage. My Brother wouldn't believe me before. But perhaps now..." What a pain, Ranek thinks. This development will only encourage my sister in her radical plotting. Just when things are going so smoothly, too. "Er...with all due respect to your abilities, Wyeriun. How can you be completely sure that -- " "THIS is how I am sure!" The mage hisses, and rips his robe open to expose his chest. Three Panther Gaurds leap to within easy arm's reach of the old man, while the Cavaliers remain impassive. All eyes in the room are drawn to the three round burn scars on the mage's chest, arranged roughly in a tight equilateral triangle. He slowly turns 180 degrees to display a matching set of scars on his back. The scars are old and healed. Yet looking at them, it is hard to believe a man could receive such a wounding and survive. Yet survive he did. The Wyeriun has the dubious distinction of being the sole survivor of Generica's single naval expedition to the Southern Marshes during the Lizard War. For a moment, he closes his eyes and relives that terrible day of his youth, twenty-some-odd year's before, when, as an apprentice Sea Mage, he assisted his Masters in the all out assault on that lizard-man village. But they failed to establish the beachhead. A nasty surprise was waiting for them: The 'village' turned out to be a fabrication of hastily constructed facades floating on a bog of explosive marsh gas! Even now, though over twenty years have passed, on a bad night The Wyerium can clearly hear the screams of burning men, the cries of armor clad knights being sucked into the bog...and then...in the aftermath...the horrible feasting of the crocodiles... The details of his escape have always remained unclear: The terror-filled flight through a swamp filled with images of the Demon Thk and his whooping, club-wielding savages. Weeks spent upside down in a bamboo cage. The questionings. And through it all, those drums...those damnable drums...and then...the visitation...the Test...the blinding flash of lightning. He eventually woke up in the Fort Kreb infirmiry, where he would spend over one year recovering from the blast of Thk's lightning bolt. Why had he been freed? Perhaps he would never know. With a mental lurch, the old man shifts back to the present. Princess Piroxia is arguing with her brother: "...need him, you fool, to control his sons. They fear only him. He is the only one his people will obey. Can't you see that? Why was I --" "But sister, the one named Shrrk has responded most favorably to my initial overtures and --" "PAH! You are a fool! Thk is the only reasonable one. The others bide their --" "*AHEM!*" Once again, the Mage speaks out of turn. "May I remind you both that our first priority, our first *duty*, to the citizens of Generica, is to secure the Holy Relic of Sssuthru, to remove it from the hands of that pagan lizardman, who makes of it his plaything." At the mention of the Sea God's name, The Wyeriun pauses to genuflect reverently. "And the lizardman must be captured and executed. For what he did. And for what he might do again, if permitted to live. And for his blasphemies against the Sea Gods." The two royal siblings stare at him. 'Duty?' 'Citizens of Generica?' 'Sea Gods?' What is the old fool talking about? Who cares about that? The Princess approaches him, hand on rapier hilt. Beneath their visors, the Cavaliers frown pensively. "Nonsense, August Mage." She says, sweetly. "You have failed to grasp the finer subleties of the geopolitical situation. That is my job. Yours is to serve Generica in Tower Kraken, and to assist in ocean-related emergencies. We shall require nothing more of you, and nothing less." A faint rasp is heard, and the point of her rapier appears at his breast. The fingers of the left hands of the Cavaliers flex slightly, in readiness. "August Wyeriun, your Prince Ranek and I will...extend an invitation, as it were, to this Thk, to visit us here. He is, after all, royalty in his own fashion, is he not?" As the Princess speaks, she uses the point of her rapier to close and refasten the old mage's robe. Throughout this vulgar display, his facial expression does not alter from one of pure rage. "You will assist us, Sea Mage. And, you will speak of this matter to no one -- including our father and royal siblings. In return for your services, you shall be given this Trident you fear so much. The lizardman, however, shall be ours to play with." "You will not harm the lizardman, Mage" With one last flick of her rapier, she replaces the hood on the old man's head and resheathes her blade. "Now. Go back to your tower and make the necessary preparations. We begin tomorrow. Dismissed." After the mage has gone, Prince Ranek asks, "Was is really necessary to badger the man? His temper is legendary..." "Shut up, Ranek, and answer me this: Whose men shall we send to capture this lizardman, yours or mine?" The Captain of the Palace Cavaliers steps forward, drops to one knee and flips open his visor. Piroxia smiles affectionately. "Permission to speak, Captain Garrulon." "Let it be the Cavaliers, M'Lady. We shall subdue this beast, and --" "NO!!! Send your Panthers, M'Lord!!!" blurts Theroux, Chief of the Panther Guard. Captain Garrulon rises and advances on the Panther with a sneer, "Oh yes, send a savage to capture a savage. And I suppose --" "SILENCE!" A rapier appears between them. "You shall both go. And whichever of you brings in the lizardman shall be declared the victors, and shall recieve the arms and armor of the vanquished!" Garrulon and Theroux both nod and favor eachother with nasty grins. "And hear me, both of you. You shall not hinder each other in any way, and you shall not put so much as a scratch on my lizardman..." As Princess Piroxia and her Cavaliers depart, she whispers in his ear. "The lizardman, Thk, was sighted in the Pub called Dragon's Inn..." Meanwhile Prince Ranek mutters to Theroux. "You speak the tongue of the lizardmen do you not?..." [ADMIN: To whomever's keeping track, more NPC's for the grist mill. It would appear that the Palace is a place of intrigue between rival siblings...heheheh.] ----------- Rigler ('AKA' Thk)