Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu (Daniel Steven Reinker) Subject: [blade] In the valley of death... Message-ID: <1993Feb6.214222.13955@cheshire.oxy.edu> Date: Sat, 6 Feb 1993 21:42:22 GMT All around Meshtak, he heard gasping. "Who's that?" "Is he another challenger?" "He just jumped into the arena with Blade!" "Is he NUTS?!?" Meshtak tried to ignore them. He landed on the floor of the arena, and found himself enveloped in a warm stench of blood. Fighting off his revulsion and gag reflex, the draga tried to focus on his surroundings. He had landed to the side of Blade and the drow, so that they could have been the vertices of an equilateral triangle. The drow tensed with suspicion, matching his patterns to be defensive against two attackers, while Blade simply stared at Meshtak through bleary uncaring eyes. Meshtak tried to keep both foes in sight as he worked at the whip tied around his waist. It quickly loosened, and he snapped it into the air, turning it into a steel sword in midcrack. With the extra range of his new weapon, the draga backed up, wary of his two opponents, and sickeningly aware of the way his feet stuck to the dried blood on the floor. "Who are you?" called the dark elf. "Is my twenty minutes up? Are you the next challenger?" Meshtak opened his mouth to reply, but Trawm yelled from above. "Kill him! Kill him and you get another 200 gold!" Meshtak's spirits fell as he watched the drow's eyes narrow in determination, and the drow's stance angle itself against him. As if Blade wasn't bad enough, at least he is an honest fighter, Meshtak thought. Denking drows were treasure houses of tricks and betrayals. "I mean you no harm!" called the drow. "Let us fight Blade together!" However, Meshtak could see how he was slowly angling so Meshtak was between him and Blade. He means to push me toward Blade, and have Blade do his dirty work, Meshtak realized. Grimly, the draga decided it was time to do what he came to do. And if he failed, well, at least a clean death on Blade's hide was preferable to death at the hands of a drow. Meshtak ran at to the side in the direction of Blade, and jumped, bouncing off the wall and coming perilously close to the behemoths jagged arms. Blade swung at him half-heartedly, and Meshtak easily ducked under the slow swipe. He heard a gasp outside the arena. "He is crazy!" a man yelled. "he's going for Blade!" The calling and cheering increased dramatically. Blade looked at Meshtak, seemed to settle on the draga as a target, and started lumbering toward him. Meshtak felt his back press against the wall. "Blade!" he called. The creature paused, startled at hearing his own name. "Blade! Who cut out your tongue, Blade? Who made you silent?" Blade's eyes widened, and quickly pulsed with anger. Meshtak barely avoided the next blow, an explosive piledriver that smashed into the wall inches away from the agile draga. Even then, Meshtak felt a jag from the behemoths arm snake a cut across his arm. As Meshtak danced out of range, Blade turned, enraged, and rushed after him. "Hendrix did it!" Meshtak called desperately, and was amazed to see Blade suddenly freeze. Wow, the draga thought. Sure scored with that one. Blade's eyes were wide with disbelief, and his mouth gaped open slightly, so that Meshtak could see the stub where his tongue used to be. Then the disbelief faded, and Meshtak read hurt in the creature's eyes. The hurt of a betrayed child. Stubbornly, Blade shook his head in denial. "Brubba!" he said. "Brubba!" Brubba? "It's true!" Meshtak continued. "You know Hendrix, do you? He infected a group of guardsmen with some substance that causes mutation...then he sent one of the guardsmen after you...to cut out your tongue! Don't believe me, do you? Who else could have done it? Who else wanted you silenced?" Meshtak was bluffing a little here, and he hoped Blade wouldn't see through it. Blade didn't. His eyes narrowed, and the glowing red fury behind them now was worse than before. Before it was the red glow of rage; this time it was the all-encompassing fire of hate. "Brubba." he repeated stubbornly. "Brubba." But his words lacked conviction. "Brubba...what is that?" Meshtak muttered to himself. He tried to imagine what word could sound like that if spoken without a tongue. Trouble? Rubber? And then, suddenly, it came to him. "Holy grot!" Meshtak swore to himself. Then he yelled at Blade. "Brother? You call him BROTHER? He cut out your tongue? He left you in this hole to fight for the rest of your life? He's no brother to you! Not unless brother means betrayer! He's out for himself...do you know where he is right now? In lowtown, trying to build an empire for himself. He's forgotten you, Blade. He's no brother, he's not even a friend to you. Do you know who I am, Blade? I saved you before, remember? When those creatures were cutting out your tongue, I threw fire on them and burned them from you. I'm your friend, Blade." Blade stared at him. To the side, the drow jumped in for an attack. and Blade absentmindedly smashed him a jagged blow and sent him flying toward the wall, where he impacted with a sickening crunch and dripped down the wall. Meshtak tried not to stare, muttered a 'grot' under his breath, and once again hoped that he knew what he was doing. Then Blade spoke. His voice was flat and dead. "Hendwih no brubba. Hendwih no fwein." Then he roared. "KIWW HENWIH!!!!" His eyes blazed. "Whew." thought Meshtak. He spoke. "I'm going right now to do just that, Blade. I could use your help. Would you like to come with me?" Blade nodded. "Kiww Hendwih." he said. "But first, we need to get out of this arena somehow. Any thoughts?" Meshtak remembered the words of the witch Rita. 'Convince Blade of your need, and he will free himself.' And as Meshtak watched, Blade lifted his powerful arms high, and brought them crashing to the ground. A huge crack broke across the floor. Another blow, and the cracks spread. Meshtak heard Trawm screaming. "What are you doing? What are ya doin', ya damned draga!" And then Blade brought down another blow, and the floor collapsed under the giants weight. In the blink of an eye, Blade was gone, disappearing down into the dark crumbling hole he had created. Meshtak listened, and was rewarded with a thump down below. For a moment, the draga paused to look around the arena, and then, shrugging, he jumped into the gaping hole into the abyss below, leaving the patrons of the tavern to stare into the inky darkness where they had both disappeared. Meshtak the Draga -- "You can't help that. We're all mad here."-The cheshire cat, Alice in WL "A mass hysteria/a megalomania/reveal Dementia/reveal"-Metallica