Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: jpesonen@viikki.Helsinki.FI (JORMA JUHANI PESONEN (EKT)) Subject: [ShadowMage] Food For My Pe(s)ts Message-ID: Date: Tue, 2 Feb 1993 16:04:20 GMT *Food*, was the thought. With it the black shadow moved towards the door of the Perfumerie. *I smell food, too, my little friends* Then the panic struck. ShadowMage felt, how his small companions withered in pain and despair. The feeded on was killed, one of the souls had vanished. Shadow stopped, and focused. One smaller shadow flew out of the bigger one's cloak and vanished towards the Plaza of Glittering Steel. //Fallen. Dead. Sliced. Fed.// *So, if these pityable morons thing they can destroy my pets without punishment, they are wrong** The cloak opened and the smaller shadow merged into the bigger one. It was time to be fed. Malthus de la Noeuze was going into bed. He had polished his three mirrors, closed the shop, combed his long dark hair and put n his nightcap. He pulled the sheets open and crawled into his bed. "Ouh ooh, whaat a day! Terrible ssmell in thhee town nowadayss!", he sighed, as he pulled the sheet over his body. There was a knock on the door. Malthus got up sighing, went to the window and opened... There was a crash at the door. Malthus panicked. Somebody od something had just broken into his store! He picked a knife from his nighttable drawer adn started to advance towards the door. Step. There was a terrible crash coming from the downstairs. Step. Miss Stoic was screaming at the top of her lungs. The scream reminded Malthus of a mouse, which had got crushed under a cartwheel. Half crushed, half screaming... RUN! Malthus bounced to the door, pulled it open and jumped into the stairs leading down into the store. **So, you are the propriator of this establishment**, came a cold voice from the darkness. **I want some...Marachin. You know what that is, don't you?** "That wasn't a question. That was a statement.", thought Malthus adn answered," What have you done to Miss Stoic? Where is she? Is she all right?" There was a cold laughter in the darkness. **She has joined into my souls. She is very pleased. She was afraid you would mourn for her. Don't, she says.** There was a flash of light, and malthus saw the limp body of Miss Stoic laying on the counter. Besides the counter was a dark figure, more a shadow than a man, who was holding a lantern. "SHE IS DEAD, YOU BASTARD!!!", came out from the older man's mouth, as he lunged from the staris towards the shadow. The figure had just time to turn to face the perfumerist, when he struck on him. The knife seemed to slice through nothing, as if the figure had no substance. **You fool! I promised you your life, but now I'll have to take you into my souls** "You'll never get your Marachin then, you know!", shouted Malthus and struck again. There was a howl. But not from the figure. It came from the shadows near the working room's entrance. Malthus quickly turned to see, what was lurking in the shadows. It was the last thing he ever did... ************************************************************************* The next morning came all too soon. The last pigeons woke into a snowing wind, which blew across the Arcade. The old perfumerist came out of his building, opened the shutters and went in again. It was cold. The news of the dead nightwatch spread quickly and accurately: The man was found all burnt from an alley near the Mages' Guild. "It was the night of the Watery Gale", people thought. "That was his own foolishness, his own fault. No-one else to blame about it." Not even his wife and three children were surprised. It had been the Watery Gale, after all... And somewhere, a greater evil was spawning. ShadowMage, The Executioner JPESONEN@viikki.helsinki.fi /// /// "Is all that we see or seem, There are realities /// But a Dream within a Dream?" Within realities, but /// Edgar Allan Poe THERE ARE NO ABSOLUTES