From: bgho@musicb.mcgill.ca (Kalhad the Black) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Storm] [Jiri] [AU] Darkness Hits Date: Fri, 02 Apr 93 01:03:34 CST Message-ID: <16BA4EE6.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: [Storm] [Jiri] [Wizard] Kyhra Jiri Andrea Sheryl unicorn ~Date: Fri, 02 Apr 93 01:14:59 EST ~From: Kalhad the Blackk To: ~Subject: [jiri] [storm] [au]: Darkness Hits [admin]: Thanks to Chris Meadows for the great storm idea, and the use of his characters, Andrea and Sheryl. I hope I didn't use them too poorly. ;) Cheers, Chris. [note from Chris]: Don't worry, Kalhad, you didn't. :) Kyhra groaned and rolled over, trying to escape the sliver of sunshine that kept snaking its way through the cracked shutters and into his face. Finally, after much tossing and turning, and much more cursing, he sat up, deciding that he'd get no more sleep that morn. Sitting up was a bad idea. The blood rushed out, then slammed back in as his head came up too quick, resulting in a deafening (for Kyhra anyways) crack on his sore skull from the inside out. After taking a moment to steady himself, the huge Kalnarian looked--slowly--around the room he was in, trying to place himself. Dammit, he thought, where in the nine hells am I? After a few minutes, his head stopped its throbbing and he was able to stand. His sword and belt lay across a chair that was in pitiful repair and his cloak lay crumpled on the floor of the tiny room. Kyhra muttered another curse at himself for not remembering where it was that he had spent the night, nor how he got there. He began to rise slowly, to be sure that he didn't get another head rush, and when none came, he stood up more quickly, only to crack his head on the low ceiling. A terrible roar of pain and rage was heard downstairs and out upon the street and many crossed themselves and shuddered, looking nervously around for its source. It's soure was, of course, a severely hung over feline warrior, who had smoked his acheing head against the very same beam on that low ceiling that he had before going to bed. That beam was the source of his headache in the first place, that and all the dwarven ale he had consumed at the Chimera last night. Gently massaging the tender spot, Kyhra sat back down and slowly the nights events came back to him. After the dinner he had had with Andrea, Sheryl, 'Raelf and ar'Elya, he had left the Dragons Inn to look for information--and more drink. He'd gone down to the Scrappy Ram first, but found little besides good ale. The 'Cobra didn't even have that, but he'd won some money on a fight. And a good fight it was that he had. That stinking troll had been far to sure of himself, and hadn't expected that the man-cat would have anywhere near the speed that he has. A big mistake, that many opponents make when facing the massive feline. After the fight, he'd headed to the Harbour. It was there that he found what he was looking for. He'd also won more money betting on the knife fights at one of those bars, though he didn't participate in them this time. It was at Ratty's that Kyhra had met a man who told him what he wanted to know. Cain _was_ running a ship, and it had left on a trading (smuggling, Kyhra immediately decided) run some time ago. It was due back in Generica soon, though it didn't ever run a discernable pattern between ports. Kyhra didn't ask the greasy weasel-like sailor how he knew what he did, but he could sense that it was the truth--as far as the sailor thought, at any rate. It was after he left Ratty's that Kyhra had run into his trouble. It was trouble of a good kind, of course, for it really wasn't a problem until the next day. Which is this morning, he reminded himself, even though his head was doing a good enough job of it for him. He'd caught a scent of dwarves on the breeze, and more importantly, dwarven ale. He followed it the the local dwarves hangout, a bar called the Chimera, or something to that effect. Kyhra had always had a taste for Dwarven Ale, and loved the company of its brewers, and his arrival in Generica had changed nothing of his tastes. (Except maybe for a better appreciation of mages, one certain female one in particular. That vision that he had seen in ar'Elya's eyes had startled him at first, but it also gave him a keen interest in her.) He had spent the rest of the night drinking with his favourite warriors and his favourite drinking companions, no less. It was almost as if he were in the company of Ballethor and Kroth, and their fellow dwarves of the Grimmhaven. They were a people that seemed to change little, or not at all, no matter which land of which world you where in. As it turned out, a bunch of them took to the feline warrior as well, and engaged in a friendly game of Orcbane with six of the other patrons. Orcbane was an aptly named game, for it entailed the drinking of enough stout harsh ale to turn even an orcs stomach. Not many people besides the dwarves themselves can handle vast amounts of their ale. Luckily, Kyhra was one of the few. He had even nearly attempted to take a shot of the legendary drink of the Chimera, but by the time that somebody suggested it, he was too drunk to hold a glass steady, and was lapping his ale with his tongue, the way cats do. The walk--er... stumble--home was a vague spot in his hazy mind. He remembered the walk itself, just not how he had known which way to go. He'd found a scruffy inn and decided to stay there for the night, instead of going all the way back to the Dragon. Groaning once more, Kyhra stood, more careful about the ceiling this time, and picked his cloak up off the floor. Putting his belt back on, he fastened his scabbard to it, and slung his scimitar around to his left hip. He fastened his cloak and straightened it out as he stepped through the low door into an equally low hallway. After a few short paces, the ceiling heightened as the slope of the roof rose to its' peak. A creaking, cracking stariway led down to the small tavern room on the main floor. Kyhra decided not to stay for breakfast--he'd get better at the Dragon, and probably cheaper too. He couldn't remember paying for last nights lodging already, but nobody made a move to stop him as he left. Kyhra looked around, and noticed that it seemed a little darker out than it had when he woke up. Looking at the sky towards the sea, he could see that it was much darker than it should be at this time of day, even though no clouds showed above the buildings. Yet, he thought, for he could scent that a storm was on the way, even if he couldn't see it. And the scent was not good. This would not be a little squall, or heavy thunderstorm. This was a REAL storm coming, the kind that he hadn't experienced since the Dargon of the Dragons had unleashed the rain that had been held back for months over Wvendon. Magic had created that drought, and magic had ended it. He thought that perhaps there might be magic involved in this one too, for it had a similar scent. The catman shrugged and began to make his way towards Dragons Lane. The storm was coming, and there was nothing that he could do about it. It didn't take long to find the Lane, and he was surprised at how close he'd actually been to the Dragons Inn last night. Now why did he choose to stay in that little ramshackle place anyways? Again he shrugged, for there was nothing that he could do about drunken decisions of the past either. Just as the Dragons Inn came into sight, he heard a shouting commotion down the street behind him. Men shouting. Sounded like they were spreading a message though, as there was no clash of steel. By the time he reached the Inn, a red-faced man of the Sea Guard had overtaken him. He entered right behind the man as he shouted his warning of the storm to those within. A young looking seer in the corner jumped up and shouted something about hearing it here first, or somesuch. Kyhra looked around the Inn, then spotted Andrea and Sheryl talking to Littlefair at the bar, and made his way over to them. "Good morn to you, milady. And to you, noble creature of Sievnaer," he nodded to the two sisters. Before he could continue though, he heard a crash, then as he turned to look someone called his name. No, not just someone, it was his friend, the Wolfmage. "Kyhra! By the gods I'm glad I found you," Jiriku said quickly as he hurredly made his way over to join his companion. The elf had a harried look on his normally exquisite face, and his eyes did not softly sparkle the way they normally did. "Hold on, Jiri! Calm down...and why the flashy entrance? You don't normally enter a place with a bong and a flash," Kyhra commented slyly. "This is not a normal time, my friend. I had to break out of my sleep quickly. You know not to have expected me for another day or two, but I had to leave the Dreampaths. I had to come warn you." "About the storm? We already know. I had smelled it before the Sea Guard came and warned everybody. Is it magical, Jiri? I scented something in it, almost like when Dargon called the rain at Wvendon." "Dargon didn't call the rain, Kyhra, he merely released it from the magik that held it back. No, this is different. I think it _may_ have been summoned. There is nothing normal about it, as far as I can sense. But that's not all..." "You're starting to worry me, Jiriku Goldeies. Let's take this one step at a time. I've found Cain." "You found him? Where is he? I don't sense him anywhere nearby." "No, he's not here," Kyhra explained. "But he will be soon. He's running a ship on trading missions. He's due back within the fortnight. Maybe even sooner." "Are you sure it's him, Kyhra?" Jiriku asked cautiously. He knew than to get hopes up on false conclusions." "You want to know the name of his ship?" Kyhra immediately countered. "The Soulstar." "Yes Kyhra, you're right. It _is_ him. It could be no other. Only myself and your ancestors have left for other worlds since then. Cain as well, and maybe Dargon, but not even the gods now where that old wizard is. Yes, only Cain could name his ship after the doomstar." Suddenly Kyhra smacked himself in his still acheing forhead, wincing slightly, as he saw a curious white equine looking in what was almost awe at his elven friend. "Oh, by Thrakcs two beards, Jiri! How rude of me! I forgot to introduce you to our new companions." The Sylvan was admiring the young 'corn with nearly the same look. Kyhra had never seen Jiriku in awe of any living creature before, and he knew that elves seldom were. "I am truly honoured, Fairest One," came a clear voice into Sheryl's head, even thought the elf hadn't spoken. "It has been a time beyond reckoning since Sylvan eyes set upon one of the Purest. As the Prince of the Sylvan, I welcome the return of such sight, though I wish that I could instead be welcoming your kind once more unto the Sylvanwood." Then aloud, he spoke, "I am Jiriku Goldeies, Firstborn of the FirstLord and the Lady of Dai'Seppa. I am honoured beyond reckoning." The elf bowed low before Sheryl, his graceful movements almost seeming to speak of the depths of the honour he spoke of. If it was at all possible for a unicorn to blush, Sheryl would have then, for she had never had such an important seeming person bow like that to her. "And your name, little horn?" Jiriku asked when he had straightened. Even as Kyhra opened his mouth to speak her name, Jiriku continued, "Please to make thy aquaintance, Sheryl." At a curiously gaurded look from Sheryl, the Wolfmage explained, trying to set her at ease. "Always have my people had a kinship with the fair creatures of the forests. Worry not, I cannot, nor would, read your mind. I'll only hear what you tell me." Sheryl realized then that she _had_ nearly been screaming out her name inside her head. She then turned and trotted back over to Andrea, who was still talking to Littlefair about preparations for the storm. Jiriku and Kyhra followed her, and waited for Andrea to finish asking about the cellars and other safe places to hide. Kyhra nodded to the lady thief and indicated his elven friend with a furry paw. "Milord, this is Andrea, a brave and noble adventurer." Andrea gave the elf a slight curtsey and a smile. "Andrea, this is my companion and my ward. The Wolfmage, Prince Jiriku Goldeies of the Sylvanwood." Jiriku performed another graceful bow, though this one was not so formal as the previous. "I am enchanted to make thy aquaintence, Andrea. And please, just call me Jiriku. Kyhra always does try to make me sound more important than I really am." Here he gave the Kalnarian a joking reproachful look. "And I am delighted to meet you too, Jiriku. But right now there are more pressing matters at hand. That storm's still coming." "Yes, it is," Kyhra agreed. "They need help bagging up the Sea Wall. I'm going to head right down, if Littlefair is kind enough to pour me an ale first. I've got a splitting headache, and I'll need to dull it a little afore venturing into the very heart of noise itself!" The bartender gave Kyhra a knowing smile as he obliged to pour a good stout ale for him. "Here's just what you need my furry friend. A good Faerick Stout. It'll dull any pain, drink induced or not!" Kyhra gladly took the offered mug and tossed a silver to his kind saviour. Jiri laughed and slapped the warrior on the shoulder. "Don't ever change, Kyhra. I wouldn't know what to do with you if you did." Kyhra and Andrea joined him in the laugh, but it only lasted a moment and then serious expressions were worn again. "I would go with you Kyhra, but I would be of no help. Leaving the Dreamlands so suddenly and urgently drained me of my energy, both physically and mentally. I'll need to rest, and my skills will better be used here with the injured who will definitely come. I can manage to muster the strength for a few healing spells still, and my knowledge of healing is enough to do some good even without magik." Kyhra nodded and knocked back his ale. "Aye, I think you have it aright there my friend. Leave the work to us hale men, not the old doddering granthers like yourself." Jiri scowled. "Why you...watch that tongue, or you might find that it turns into that of a dog, and you'll be panting and drooling all over yourself." The scowl quickly turned into a smile and the two friends shared another laugh. "Well, now to get to it. Fare thee well, Wolfmage. Look after him for me Andrea. He tends to get himself into trouble when I leave him alone." "Oh, and you steer clear of it yourself, Kalnarian?" Jiriku flicked his hand and suddenly Kyhra was reminded of the hangover that he was nursing "Stop it, Jiriku. I don't use magik to make _your_ hangovers worse." Jiriku laughed and waved his hand again, removing the throbbing pain he had put on his friends head. "Godspeed, Kyhra, and tread carefully." The catman left with a fierce smile on his face and joined up with some of the others who were heading down to help with the Sea Wall. This storm was going to be unlike one he had ever see before, that he knew. -Dani Treutler. [Final note: This message has been reposted by Chris Meadows, chm173s@vma.smsu.edu. I have attempted to set the address in the header to that of Dani Treutler, but in case replies to it fail, well, his email address is right above this paragraph. :) ] ---Chris Meadows