From: jcp@trident.usacs.rutgers.edu (Jonathan Petersen) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Ga] Jacks are wild Message-ID: Date: 11 Feb 93 15:45:43 GMT >remaining two raised their swords and grinned evil smiles as they came >to kill him. He thought of how there was no one left in the world to >mourn his passing. The whole scene slowed down into slow motion as the >swords plunged down towards his chest. He thought about his new friends >Brent, Zebron and Alaric and screamed "I don't want to die!" but that >didn't stop the sword from coming down. "STOP!" The swords came no closer. The brigands looked up and saw something that caused the blood to drain from their faces. Mathew looked up as well, and saw a most impressive sight: Zebron Twilight stood behind him, the wind whipping his silver hair and cloak away from his body, the raven Dusk perched on the shoulder facing the wind, the drow's right hand holding a hand crossbow aimed toward the group, his left hanging loosely at his side. "You will move away from the boy." The words came in a slow, steady tone. A statement of fact rather than a command or a plea. The bandits released their hold on Mathew; the young man fell limply to the ground, too weak to move. But his eyes never left the dark elf; and now that the initial shock had passed, he saw a different sight: the drow was sweating profusely, he was almost staggering against the force of the wind as though it was a struggle to keep from being blown over. The left arm, limp at his side, was obviously useless. "Well, back from the dead, are you, Twinkle?" taunted the largest of the brigands, and Zebron grated at the slur on his name. "I've done it before," was the dark elf's reply, "Now go and leave my friends and I in peace before you force me to kill you." "O ho! So the brave little elf is in a position to make threats. Tell us, do your 'friends' know that the boy scout Zebron Twilight is actually the thief known as the Jack of Spades, master catburglar?" "They do now," said the drow, trying very hard not to let himself get taunted by the revelation of his secrets into doing something that would cost him his life, or worse, the life of one of his friends. Dusk turned, and through his familiar's eyes Zebron saw Kyleen and Brent, having finished the elven mage, draw their bows in case they were needed to assist him. "You can't hit us all. There are five of us. You have to reload your little toy crossbow after each shot. No man - or elf - could do it, especially not in your weakened condition." "I am neither man nor elf. I am drow." "Sure you are," the bandits chuckled. "You have until the bird caws thrice to leave before I kill you where you stand." The brigands snickered. Dusk cawed. "Ok, we're going," their voices did not show a hint of fear, rather the subtle laugh of an inside joke. "But just remember you're a thief, just like us. And once a thief, always a thief," said the ruffians as they slowly backed away. Dusk cawed a second time. "And just like us, once a doublecrosser, always a doublecrosser," one of the bandits moved quickly to slit the throat of the helpless Mathew. The boy knew then that he was going to die. Dusk cawed for a third time, as Zebron's left hand straightened out, a final magical syllable escaped his lips, the crystal rod and tuft of Marra's fur held in his left hand were consumed in a glint of magical energy, and a forked tongue of blue-white lightning leaped from Zebron's hand to the brigands amid a clap of booming thunder. Charred corpses were all that was left when the spell was through. Mathew, singed but otherwise unaffected by the spell, looked at his friend. What he saw was not a moon elf masquerading as a drow. What he saw was a dark elf of tavern tales; the dark elf of legend; the dark elf of children's stories; the dark elf of nightmares. "And once a mage, always a mage," said Zebron in an even tone that sent chills down Mathew's spine. Dusk cawed in agreement, then ruffled his feathers. -jak jcp@trident.usacs.rutgers.edu