Date: Mon, 5 Apr 1993 13:28:45 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93095.132845ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Storm][L&S] Old Friends Outside his house, in his garden of a thousand different plants, Luthor had set up a wooden table. He sat on one side of it, looking thoughtfully at the wooden pieces set out on the table. They were resting ontop of a checkerboard pattern of alternating black and red squares. At the opposite side of the table was what looked like a bright green set of bagpipes with an occasional leaf sprouting here and there. Luthor moved a wooden horse and said, "Check" The green bagpipes grabbed its queen and moved it to the horse with one of its tenticles. Then it took the horse and threw it in the top of its main body. A crunching/splintering/cracking sound followed. Luthor sighed and though, 'If you keep eating the pieces, we're never going to have a second game.' The creature squished/laughed a response. Luthor heard the sound of the wind behind him and said, "You're getting old, I thought you would be here sooner," without turning to look. "I am no older than when we first met Luthor," a young man in gray robes responded stepping up to the table. He could have been no older than twenty-five, but his eyes held a greater wisdom. The strong winds from the sea whipped his long blond hair around him wildly. "Hail and well met Erik, it is good to see you again." The two hugged in greeting, "What took you so long?" "Mark and I had another fight...it's no big deal. So, lets have a look at this storm." The two men walked to the other side of the house. Already, the waves had grown to twice their normal size. In the distance, a swirling pattern of dark clouds could be seen, punctuated by an occasional flash of lightening. "Have you tried turning it back?" Erik asked, staring into the storm with more than normal vision, "It should be around a ninth order probability by now, we should be able to do it together." "No, it's much past a ninth now. The damn Sea Guard sent runners all around town telling the townsfolk that it was GOING to hit. No, it's out of our hands. All we can do is minimize the damage." A look of worry wrinkled Luthor's brow as pictures of ShadeHaven being torn to splinters assaulted his imagination. "Luthor, we're going to need the gem. Get it out." Erik commanded him. Half a moment later, Luthor held the gem in his hand. Streaks of white glittered off of a hundred fascets as light finally touched it, out of the BLACKness of Luthor's cloak. "Now, you lead. First we'll save your house, then we'll work on the beach." "Stone column?" "Yes, that should do nicely...and clear your head. Do you actually think that the Fog will let anything happen to Serene and Mista? Now, focus." "THIS HOUSE COULD RISE" Luthor incanted, picturing a rising column of earth and twisting the laws of probability with the aid of Erik and the gem. The earth rumbled and shook. Pressures that had been building in the Nexian crust found a point of release and pushed. Luthor and Erik were thrown to the ground as the earth around them heaved upward. A huge column of stone rose 20 feet into the air, throwing debris into the yards of the neighboring houses. ShadeHaven's roots anchored it firmly to the top of the column as it rose...now to the 40 foot mark. At 50 feet, it stopped. Captain stuck his head out of a second story window. "Hey, stop that, you're making Mista cry and I just put her to bed," he went back in, but the two ShadowMakers could still hear him grumbling to himself, "Damn wizards, always making noise." Erik and Luthor looked at each other and shrugged. --------- Prakteus's arms ached, but this was no time to quit. No, he didn't much like the Low City, but it was his home and he was going to save every stinking inch that he could. He had lost homes before, to bandits, to fire, the thought of losing another home was unbearable. He reached for another sand bag and added it to the pile of a thousand others that he had put there himself. The bags were being handed to him by Talmos Blackletter, a local merchant who Prakteus normally hated. Talmos was a selfish and lazy man, but he had children who meant everything to him. For this reason, he was here risking his life. The bags that were being filled with sand were from Talmos's warehouse. The flour that they normally held was being dumped on the ground, such was their desperation. The wind was unbelieveably strong. Waves struck tirelessly against the fragile wall of sand and people. Again and again, smash, smash, smash. It was all hopeless, yet they struggled against the forces of nature herself to save their pitiful land. Captain Lorren had ordered the people away from the wall when it became obvious to her that it was going to fall. A few left, but most stayed and kept working. It remeinded her of a disturbed ant hill. The workers would stay rescuing the young without regard for their own lives. A huge wave gathered force and rushed the shore. It took Prakteus by suprise and washed him off the wall. For a moment, he held onto the seaward side of the sandbags, reaching desperately for Talmos's outstreached hand, but another wave struck, sending him under. A hulking figure, misshapen by fate and several hundred years of fighting, dove into the water after him. Shouts of, "Get him Trawm!" followed the Half-Troll into the watery depths. "It's gonna fall!" came a shout from the rear as the wall began to crumble. "THE SAND COULD FUSE!" shouted a man in BLACK as he ran toward the wall holding a black gem in his hand. A moment later, the wall stopped collapsing and held, having been turned to solid stone. Wasting no time to give thanks, Captain Lorren began barking orders to the dumbfounded people. Soon, the lines of sandbags began again. She turned to look for the man in BLACK, but he had already moved on. Nearby, Trawm pulled the gasping form of Prakteus from the raging sea, back into the world of the living. ---------- All around Generica, normal people did heroic deeds, but would it be enough? Love and Peace and Courage, -The Dreamer-