Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: hibschmn@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Johann Allen Hibschman)
Subject: [JOI] Cleanup
Message-ID: <1993Apr8.041020.7302@Princeton.EDU>
Date: Thu, 8 Apr 1993 04:10:20 GMT

	The Rhymand was finally being cleared of the undead.  Quaeros
circulated onboard, dispelling any remaining undead he encountered,
except for the last few.  These he drained, magically leaching away their
indecent lifeforce, until he was surrounded by a flickering red aura.
Chuckling in exultation, he looked out to the rapidly-sinking enemy ship
and spied the black-robed figure calmly standing on its decks.  Why not?
Quaeros chanted, reaching out with his spell to drain away some of the
life of that mysterious figure.
	Mistake.  Quaeros realized his error as soon as he finished his
spell and the frigid life of the black one reached him over the conduit.
The lifeforce was _wrong_, unlike even the stolen life animating the
undead.  The power was cold and unclean, yet he felt something in the
depths of his very being rise to accept it.  The conduit widened,
involuntarily, and more and more of the foe's life flowed into Quaeros,
until finally it stopped abruptly.  The black robes on the other ship fell
to the ground, empty, and Quaeros heard a faint voice in the back of his
mind, laughing.
	Feeling nourished in some dark corner of his soul, Quaeros
checked to make sure that he was still holding some of the power taken
from the wraiths.  His reddish aura was still in place, so he wandered
the deck, healing the wounded.  As he did, the aura diminished, until
finally only a faint remnant remained and he was standing before Segoi.
Quaeros knelt and sent the remaining energy into the sorely wounded
warrior.  Segoi's wounds closed, but not completely.  There was not
enough power left.  Feeling the eyes of Laurenth, Elanon, and the others
upon him, Quaeros looked up to address them.
	"There _are_ a few loopholes.  Though I cannot cure from thin
air, nothing keeps me from...ah... _redistributing_ life energy.  My
god, Ronkel, is a patient god.  All things come to Him in the end, so as
long as the scales of harming and healing balance, there is no
difficulty.  Segoi's life is still at risk, but I heal quickly.  I
should be fine by the morning."
	With that, Quaeros mumbled a quick incantation.  Segoi's wounds
closed almost completely, and Quaeros toppled to the deck, unconscious.