From: albert@chain.ssctr.bcm.tmc.edu (Rick Jones) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [KQ] Marcel/Wasters [Waster's HQ] ...They really are a scream.... Date: 2 Oct 1992 22:19:00 GMT Message-ID: <1aihskINNss6@gazette.bcm.tmc.edu> "I'll take you," burbled Seer. Good, thought Marcel. This mad warlock will take us to Kron's sister , and we will be done with this mad quest. He wanted to take bath. And sleep for a week. His head was full of cotton, and the absence of the Rabbi worried him. Perhaps the axioms of this strange realm were slowly destroying his technological implants. The Rabbi was the most advanced piece of cyberware, and would be the first to go. Marcel pushed that thought away. Marcel nervously went to the window, and looked out on the fog enshrouded Low City. A decaying group of buildings attracted his attention for some reason. The fog billowing in off the ocean seemed to hover over it. [Target Lock Acquired. Class 4 threat.] A set of cross hairs appeared in his field of vision and started zeroing in on a specific building. [Reccom-. Abort. Target lost.] Marcel scanned the fog, trying in vain to spot whatever it was. /Activate scanners./ [Online.] /Query: why did the threat anaylser become active?/ [T.A. has been offline for 6.24 MV hours. Please restate question.] /It just became active a moment ago then went offline again./ [Negative.] /Grumble. Okay, well, scan that area of buildings./ [Mixed results. Minimal life signs, consistent with vermin infestation. Thre-. Warning: Class 3-. Abort.] /Enough. Run a level 1 diagnostic of T.A./ [Running...] "Marcel, we're leaving," Malieu tapped him on the shoulder. "Where are we going?" "Seer says Cheyenne is in the Shunned Center." He pointed towards the bank of fog now completely covering the buildings Marcel was watching. "It's over there." The troop of adventures, led by Seer, left the building. "Marcel, my friend. Are you all right?" asked Malieu. "I suppose." "Well, perhaps you should summon 'Raelf. The Shunned Center is rumored to be acursed or something. A wizard would be helpful, no?" A warlock. I used to (God forgive me) burn warlocks, and no I depend on one. This world defines lunacy. "Right." He pulls his communicator from his pack, and presses a button. It chirps, and a light on it's display starts flashing. "He'll be here in a while." "snicker. Ladiez and gentlemen heheheh. I give you, the Shunned Center." Seer cackled, and strode into the fog. "I've got a bad feeling about this," muttered Marcel, as he followed the group in. --------------- Meanwhile.... "KRON! KILLIM!" bellowed Thrugg. "Shut him up," growled Scorpion. This was _not_ a good day. The group still stunk of the bay. If he hadn't blasted a hole in the wall... Rook held out a cookie. "OOH, macadamia nuts." Thrugg munched happily, Kron forgotten for the moment. Scorpion pinched the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath. "Okay, it looks like Seer's sold us out to Kron. I never would have figured. Okay, Blink and Nolrimm are both out of it, and Kron's got a whole band of warriors with him." "We've got to go after them," said Bogo, "he's got the cure. Look, nobody knows Low City like me. We'll dry gulch 'em and bag Seer." "That's you. Rook?" asked Scorpion. She grinned. "Payback's a bitch. Let's take 'em." She pulled out a plain gold ring. "Here's Nolrimm's ring. If Bogo gets small and I fade out, we've got 'em. I'll leave a trail with the usual mark." "Did he give that to you?" "He dropped it when you were carrying him." "How lucky for you. Let's roll, people." Rook donned the ring, and dissappeared. Bogo screwed up his face, and his form dwindled down to a few inches tall. He scurried off down the street. "Thrugg?" asked Scorpion. "Yuh?" "We're going to go get Kron, but you have to be quiet and do just what I say." "Okie-dokie, boss." Scorpion shook his head. Thrugg's mind was going. Seer will pay. Scorpion pulled the heavy gauntlets off his hands. They glowed with a pale black light. He flexed his fingers, and watched with fascination as little barbs extended from his fingers and then retracted. He absent-mindedly rubbed a sore on the back of his hand. A piece of skin fell off, revealing a brown, chitinous shell underneath. This ends today Seer. He pulled the gloves back on, and slowly left the alley. -- Rick Jones Systems Support Center albert@bcm.tmc.edu Baylor College of Medicine Voice: 713-798-7352 standard disclaimers apply Sky fits heaven, so ride it. Remote has button, so MUTE it.