Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!wupost!cs.utexas.edu!uwm.edu!caen!cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu!344lwkc
Organization: Central Michigan University
Date: Friday, 5 Mar 1993 10:50:31 EST
From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU>
Message-ID: <93064.105032344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU>
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [Ga] It's a _Good_ Life
Lines: 175

[ADMIN: Thanks to Joe and Jon for the use of their chars in this, and their
 contributions for the post.]

For a change, Brent awoke early in the day. That might have surprised the
others in the party, since previously the half-elf had shown the signs of a
late riser. But that had been due to the lethargy the immunization process had
installed. Now, however, he was more his normal self, and neither profession of
thief or guard had provided much of an opportunity to develop the pattern of
sleeping all day.

Brent saw Mathew and Zebron talking, and released a smile. He might have to
talk to both of them today, but it would be a private session in each case. He
had something he wanted to do first, anyways. He walked to a tree of reasonable
distance that the noise of his planned operation wouldn't carry back to camp.

He carved a crude bullseye pattern on the tree, and stepped back an appropriate
distance. He then withdrew a blowgun and some of the darts -- ones that had
already been cleaned of their poison during the battle; waste not, want not --
that he had picked up from the last attackers, and began to practice.

Whhhhhhh -- thump! Right in the middle -- of the outermost ring.
Whhhhhhh -- thump! So little an improvement, it was almost worse.

Whhhhhhh -- thump! Much better, though _still_ not in the center.
Whhhhhhh -- thump! Back near that outer ring agin. And just when he was almost
feeling encouraged.

But what could he expect? He had never trained with the blowgun, and it would
take more than a few minutes of practice to make it even close to as familiar a
projectile as his dagger. The thought of the dagger caused him to unsheath it,
and throw it as a test of his dexterity. It hit a tad high of dead center, but
well within the bullseye region, and gave Brent confidence that all he needed
was further practice. He walked over and pulled out the missiles, then
prepared to repeat his "work".

After a few more minutes, Mathew had finished his talk with Zebron, as
evidenced by the two separating. Brent motioned the young paladin over, and
Mathew trodded to him, anticipating yet more instruction.

"So what did you and Zebron discuss?" Brent asked causally.

"My death." Mathew said softly, his interpretation of Zebron's words still
fresh in his mind.

"I do hope you're speaking figuratively, or about something far in the future.
Why were you talking about something like that, anyway?"

"He said how it was a good day to die, and made me realize that I should live
each day like it was my last."

"Hmmm -- sounds a bit unlike him, but then I never claimed to really know
_any_ of these people. Personally, though, I've always been the type to
_prepare_ for tomorrow, to make sure I see two days from now. Survival has
always been a goal of mine, possibly supplemented somewhat by comfort and
maybe even wealth as of late."

Mathew nodded, absorbing this other viewpoint. It was a bit closer to what
he was used to; farming often meant long-term waits. He wondered which
philosophy was more correct for him. Then he realized that _both_ might be:
that he should live -- with no regrets -- his life as best he could, without
needless risks and with at least moderate preparation for the future. "I think
I understand." the paladin announced.

"That's good, because I don't want you ruthlessly charging into battle again.
Which is why I called you over here in the first place. To see if you'd be
interested in using the blowguns the bandits had as a distance weapon..."

Mathew felt Brent was implying _more_, and became a bit angry at the idea.
"Listen, Brent, theivery is one thing. I don't approve of any of it, but I
can understand how people can get in desperate situations. So I can forgive
you for being a thief. But I certainly wouldn't use poison."

Brent was taken aback a bit by the tone. "Well, for one thing, the thievery
is basically in the past, as long as I've employment in the guard or in this
quest.". The half-elf was tempted to continue with similar anger, but he
paused a second to cool off. "And second, I never suggested you _did_ use it,
even if I will." he said, although he _had_ wondered about the situation.
"Although you _should_ learn that sometimes you need to fight fire with fire,
or poison with poison or whatever. It's not even deadly, except perhaps when
combined with swordplay..." Brent pauses again, remembering his and Kyleen's
teamwork.

Meanwhile, Mathew shook his head slightly, apparantly not finding the concept
universally true, and wanting nothing to do with poison.

"But what I _really_ want is for you to use something from range." Brent
continued. "Knowledge of how to use a bow is what kept that wizard from
attacking us most of the time, and what led to his downfall."

"Ok, I'll remember that." Mathew conceded. "Is that all?"

"Yeah, for now. Alaric's probably waiting for you. And I'm going to take a
bit of my own advice, and talk to Zebron."

As the paladin went off the continue his learning experiences with this
troupe, Brent walked over to the drow's location. Zebron had his hood on to
protect his eyes from the blazing sun, and was sitting facing away, probably
in meditation. As Brent approached, Dusk let out a caw.

"Hello, Brent." Zebron said without turning around. "All done with Mathew?"

"Yeah, sort of." Brent answered, moving next to Zebron, and trying not to feel
awkward that Zebron had known who it was. "Though I'd like to trade places with
Alaric -- he might have the easier job."

"So what do you have to say to me? Going to teach _me_ a thing or two?" Zebron
flashed a smile that seemed playful and open at the same time.

"We'll see." Brent returned the smile. "Mainly, I realized that we haven't
talked since we found exactly _what_ we are. Or at least what a section of us
will always be."

Zebron nodded. "You couldn't know about it, but as one of the Black Eel's
bandits said, 'Once a thief, always a thief.'."

"Hmmm. I guess it's up to the individual to decide whether that's a good or
bad thing, eh?"

Zebron couldn't help but laugh at that. Suggesting to someone like him, a
renegade Drow, about people's misconceptions -- or just plain bigotry -- was
at the least amusing. "Sometimes you surprise me, Brent. Like when you were
dealing with your protection from the poison."

"Oh, you know about that, eh?" Brent said, unsure about how Zebron felt about
it. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You _would_ probably have the best
ability to tell it had happened, and to know why I did it.

"Yes, Brent, and I have to admire the way you did it. Personally, I come from
a magic-rich area, and so anything like that that handled without magic seems
formidable."

Brent might have blushed had he known how full a complement that was. But as
it was, he shrugged it off. Though his home region was probably on the average
as far as magic was concerned, it was another thing he personally had been
poor in in childhood, one that had remained as such through the present.
"Anyway, I wanted to talk about the philosophy you shared with Mathew."

"Oh, he mentioned that, did he? Certainly you don't mind if I try to give him
some advice..."

"Of course not. To say only I should teach him would be both selfish and
overpossessive. And I fell like I'm somewhere outside the core of this group
already, without adding any hostility. I'm just wondering about that part
about living each day as if it were your last."

"What about it? I only meant that you should live life to its fullest, and
not have any regrets."

Brent paused, a bit confused. "Really? I think _Mathew_ interpreted it as an
excuse to be reckless, a sort of 'Well, if I'm going to die anyway...'
attitude."

"Hmm -- strange. Maybe I should talk to him again."

"Nah, I've handled it. I think. I _hope_."

The conversation stopped for a moment, the sound of the wind the only noise
the two could hear. Then suddenly Dusk cawed steadily, and flew around as
if agitated.

"What's up?" Brent asked. He stood up and began glancing around nervously.

"I'm not sure." Zebron said matter-of-factly. "Something, though. Something
magical, I believe. Dusk seems to have a sense about those kind of things."

Any reply Brent might have had was cut off, as every remnant of the campsite
vanished. The few people nearby -- some of whom had heard the festivities of
the night before, and wanted to see what manner of creatures might have been
involved in it -- would later swear that the group had disappeared in a
thought, with no outward signs. This, of course, only lended to the legend of
the experience...

============================================================================
Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu
SAQ: "Disappear/Before your eyes..."-Dio