Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: jng53092@uxa.cso.uiuc.edu (Jon Gad) Subject: [blade] Coyote is HUNGRY... Message-ID: Date: Wed, 4 Nov 1992 22:18:19 GMT The sun was setting over Generica, and the sky was bood red as Chelsee hurried home. It had been a hard day for the young woman, what with the Demon Horse attacking her and her son Dev during her lunch break. And to be saved by some white furred monster had been almost more than her nerves could take! But things had returned to normal now, and Mr. Ironbottem had even been nice enough to let her off early! He'd muttered something about how much business had dropped since Trawn got his new attraction at the Cobra, so there wasn't much point in her sticking around. Chelsee didn't quite understand what this 'Blade' thing was, or why it was giving Trawn so much business, but she was grateful to have some free time to herself. Turning down Grease Alley, (so named for being between Jake's Oil Lamps and Burgor's Butcher Shop) she had gone about halfway before she realized something was wrong. Ahead of her stood Mac and Donald, Burgor's two sons. As ugly as thier bloated father, the pair were known for their lechery and drunkeness. Indeed, Chelsee could smell the whiskey from where she stood, halfway down the alley. Unnoticed, something large and furred stalked on the roof and growled faintly. With evil grins aparent on thier ugly faces, the pair advanced down the alley towrd her. "Hi Chel. Nice to see you." gurgled Mac. "Yeah," agreed Donald, "REAL nice to see you. "its REAL nice to see you. In fact, it'll be even nicer to see MORE of you..." And the brothers both drew long butcher knives. Drawing her dagger (a gift from Dev's father) Chelsee started backing up, calling out for help from Jake the Lantern-maker. Mac giggled. "Oh, didn't we mention that Jake got called away on urgent family business? Something to do with a fire at his home. You'd think a man who works with oil as much as Jake would be more careful than that, wouldn't you Donald?" "Oh, absolutely Mac. Especially since all it would take to burn down a wooden house like his would be a flask of Flaming Oil like this one here. What a coincidence, eh?" Horrified, Chelsee turnrd to run, only to find that the gross form of Burgor the Butcher (though he liked to call himself the King of butchers) filling the alley behind her. "Now now, my little darling, that's hardly sociable of you, threatening my dear sons with that nasty little knife of yours. Put it down or we'll be forced to HURT you..." Putting her back to the wall, Chelsee waved her dagger at the three, hoping to ward them off, or at least hurt them a little before they got to her. Donald struck quickly and jabbed her hand, causing Chelsee to cry out and drop the dagger. Burgor moved quicker than his bulk would seem to allow and picked up the blade. "Hmmm...Nice knife. Let's see how well it CUTS..." Chelsee clutched her bleeding hand to her chest and closed her eyes as Burgor and his sons closed in on her..... Someone screamed. It wasn't Chelsee. These two facts registered almost simultaneously in Chelsee's fear-numbed brain and caused her to reopen her eyes and see what was going on. Donald lay in a bloody heap on the ground, his ribcage pried open and his heart removed. Something large, black, and furry was treating Mac to a once-in-a- lifetime view of his own intestines. As Mac lay screaming on the ground, the thing turned around and Chelsee realized the beast was a Werewolf. Frozen in shock, she could do nothing as the Lycanthrope leaped past her and tore out Burgor's throat. The beast looked up from Burgor's corpse and stared at Chelsee. For a moment it almost seemed like a spark of humanity still remained in Coyote, one that would not allow him to slay one so innocent and beutiful as Chelsee. But that quickly faded under the power of the Mother's Curse, and he leaped at her with his silver fangs bared... Jon Gad jng53092@uxa.cso.uiuc.edu