Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir-the-Love-Stricken-and-happy) Subject: [Sorc] Meetings, decisions, and storms Message-ID: Date: Tue, 1 Jun 1993 11:50:34 GMT Nightime. Deep, dark unending nightime. The lights of a castle, blue and altogether baleful shone out over the landscape. A cold, barren Landscape. The castle itself was midnight black, towering above the land around. It was gothic in the extreme, gargoyles facing outward into the night with deep, twisted expressions of glee, rapture, and pain. Towers like looked like knives stabbing into the night sky. All around, a thin veil of mist served to lengthen the shadows and deepen the sense of mystery. There are occasional whispering sounds, they trick you, lull you, scare you and draw you in. The land around, if it could speak, would speak a story of ancient times, a grand catsle, a lord and his treacherous brother. It would tell fair times of the times of yore. Tonight, however, it would tell no such tales. Tonight, it would speak of dark magics, powerful forces, a castle raised, and all that was Infernal. Tonight, the land would speak of gods that walked the Earth, Demons made human, souls corrupted, the land defiled. Tonight, the land would speak of it's fear. The wind ruffled the robes of the silvery Darmal as he walked the length of the parapet, alert, watchful for anything that would be an intrusion. Darmal was weakened, he knew. He had expended a lot of his own small primal reserve in rebuilding this castle as a barrier, so that his Master could remain in relative safety while manipulating the dark magics of the portal. He remained in contact with the security monitors that he had placed at every nook and cranny of the Castle and the surrounding Astral Realm. Yet his mind wandered. He recalled with a sense of satisfaction the screaming of the pitiful Iglyarch. Gods how that mage had cried like a babe wanting it's favourite toy. Sorceror had done well to dispose of such a walking turd. Darmal also briefly looked back upon his own life, and afterwards, when he became the minion of Sorceror. That was when his life really began. He had been one of the most powerful Dark Ones of his race. His race, the De-alnar had frowned upon practice of any magic other than the White Path of the Priests. He had secretly learned the Dark Path in seclusion and quiet, among those he could trust, and proved himself not merely adept at using his Path, he was a master. He was at the forefront of the Great Rebellion among the De-alnar, when the followers of the Dark Path finally wished to throw off the oppression of the priests. He remembered the victory well. Sorceror took notice of him then for the first time and made Darmal the ultimate offer : immortality and greater power. He was jolted out of his reverie. Security channel 7 was reporting incoming teleporters. Darmal smiled inwardly. They were coming. This would be a battle beyond all he had ever known before. He even laughed quietly to himself. The group appeared on the edge of small clump of trees. Immediately, they were on-guard for intrusions. This place had an aura of dark foreboding, of doom. Jarakh motioned to the Ponticars to take up defensive positions. "Sentel, give me a quick reconnaisance of the area", he whispered, looking this way and that furtively. Sentel nodded and drew a small wand out of his robes. He began to chant into the mist, which seemed to swallow up the sound wholly and completely. The others merely covered him while he cast his detection spell about, sensing energies. They could see the Keep looming up out of the darkness, it's spires and it's dark baleful light. Talon spoke in a low voice. "Something's definitely there, and it's big. That Keep was nothing but a tumbledown heap of stones not too long ago, and had been that way for centuries. But this ..." Silken gazed about him. He was keen, and getting impatient. He's in there, Silken could feel it. His enemy, the Dark Robed One, whom they all called Sorceror was there, reaffirming his portal to Inferno. "Look, this all nice and dandy. Let's just get in there before anything else crazy or stupid happens, got it? I haven't got time for this bullshit ," he declared tersely. This was met with stares. Lothaer, the ancient Master of Lore answered him. "Now look here, young man, you don't know what we're dealing with in there-" "Crap. He's a big mage, maybe more. You don't know what he's doing. I do. And I've got to get in there and stop him, rid myself of this curse. And don't call me young man again. I've lived centuries" At this, Saoirse engaged him in her mental conversation. 'Silken, I understand your problems. That doesn't give you the right to treat everybody else here like rubbish to throw away. We've all got problems.' She was quite angry with this self-righteous bastard. Silken sat down, not saying another word. He could feel the nearness of Inferno, and it disquieted him. The Beast within was also feeling the thrum of Inferno, and it seemed pleased that it might once again rage. Silken was well-fed, thankfully. That was one worry he wouldn't have to deal with tonight. He noticed that the others were still in deep thought. The blonde woman, Saoirse, kept glancing at him. Everybody was looking at him, watching him from time to time. He felt like a child being punished for being bold. If only they'd listen. "I got it down pat", Sentel piped up suddenly, coming out of his trance. "Well ..." Daemel, a tall thin man, a powerful Scholar of Magira asked quietly. "OK. The Fortress itself checks out to be 100% Magic. There's some WAY powerful conjuration constantly in effect. From what I can tell, there's also some serious ammounts of magic defense surrounding the whole damn fortress. I got some faint traces of that same weird energy, primal, permeating through the shields from several sources. I also ran a quick area aura check. There's quite a presence of Inferno all around, drifting away from the Keep mainly to Generica. My guess is that's what those demons that elf was on the run from were. I reckon there's some kind of Portal spewing the whole goddamn mess out into the landscape around. There's a current corruption level of about 29% all arounjd the area here, but it's rising slowly and geometrically. Communications back to the City will be difficult and I don't know if we can summon the battallion or not. We haven't got much time." Sentel spoke in his usual high speed manner. Saoirse was forced once again to save most of what he said on a back-up file to reread at a slower rate. After a few seconds, Daemel spoke up. "So what you're basically saying, Sentel, is that we're up a creek without a paddle", the mage lit up a cigar. "Yes, that's about the size of it, sir" "So what do we do?" Jarakh asked of all the mages surrounding. "Well, I'd first try to patch through to home, sir, to call in back-up on this one. Standard defense manuever when dealing with demigods ", Tyrlis smiled wrily. "Right. Sentel, see if you can patch through to home and get their support to here. We need 'em quick. Daemel, Saoirse, give him support power on this one. The rest of you, including you Master Lothaer, I suggest we do some diversionary assault, test their defenses. But watch out for that silvery man, Darmal. We may run into some serious trouble with regard to him." The Mages just nodded and got together into two separate groups, ready to perform allotted tasks. "So what do I do?" Silken asked sarcastically. He was feeling distinctly uncomfortable, the Infernal closeness was irritating him, aggtravating the Beast within. he had to get up and do something quickly or he'd fly off the handle soon. He knew it. "Well I don't know, vampire, what can you do?" Jarakh responded cooly, smartly. That hurt. Silken hated being reminded of his real self. He had to live with it as it was. He didn't need this sort of insult. He'd teach that mage, right now. He'd tear his head off. Yeah. Silken felt his fangs extending , claws beginning to extend from his fingers. The Beast was trying to provoke him into attacking. He sat down and took a few deep breaths, though he didn't breathe any longer. "Don't aggravate me mage. The auras hereabouts are provoking my ... darker edge all the while. Vampiric Frenzy is not something you want to see or I want to yield to." Silken could see the incredulous gaze forming in Jarakh's eyes. Talon interrupted. "Don't, Jarakh. He's right. Vampiric undead can sometimes be capable of the most shocking things indeed. Stay back and stay calm. You, Silken? Control yourself if you can, please." Silken closed his eyes. He focussed himself on being calm, controlled. The Beast raged within, wanting to be let free to kill the mage, ravish the woman, and slaughter them all. Such thoughts constantly swept through his mind despite his ability to control them. Concentrate! He thought of home, of Generica. An image of blood trickling down the woman's neck ... the taste, the smell ... NO. His Mother. Remebering his mother, her way of speaking, her love for him and the rest of his family. Yes. He opened his eyes again, gazing at the scene around. Many eyes were trained on him. "I'll be alright. It's this damn curse." he muttered. Once again, it was Sentel who broke the silence. "Nnnooo ," he shook his head and took a couple of deep breaths to clear his head ," it's no good. The area won't let the connection through" From the castle, a voice, whispy and not altogether real or unreal called out quietly, like a whisper, "Come in to my Parlor, ladies and gentlemen" The reaction of the Mages was instant. They readied their spells, and prepared for the attack. From above them, the sky deepened, darkened to impossible levels of blackness. A small bright light shone from the center of this darkness. Saoirse was the first to be aware of it. She had a circlet that she always wore. It told of any impending dangers approaching her. She squeezed Jarakh's arm to warn him also. "Spread out!! " Jarakh shouted suddenly as he saw the vortex forming above him. A number of robed figures dived this way and that as the Vortex began to twist slowly, and suck air first gently, then stronger and stronger with each passing moment. Silken found himself lying on the ground next to the deaf woman and the old man with Generican robes. The wind was fierce, reminding him briefly of the Generican storm and also of a storm that he had encountered when he was much younger, travelling across the sea. It tore at his clothes. He could see that both Saoirse and Talon were fighting the Power of the Vortex with various defensive spells. "What is is?" he shouted over the wind noise to Talon. "It's a ... summoning... I think a creature ... a Powerful elemental of the air ... It's hungry." Silken had an idea. He let go of his hold on the ground and flew up into the Maelstrom. The Beast was still strong in him, so he was going to put that to his advantage. Drawing his sword, Nighthawk, Silken allowed himself to fly directly up into the Maelstrom. There was lightning crackling all around the edges of this thing. Further on upwards, he saw the creature, a great black shadowy form with a hideous draconian face and giant wings. It was playing with the winds, urging them onto greater forces all the time. Buffeted and whirled about in many directions, Silken took control of his own movement to some degree. His flying ability, already well-practiced, was able to control his movements to quite a degree. The creature gazed at him, surprised and angered. It moved from it's position at the center of the maelstrom to attack this intruding being. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Saoirse and the others watched in shock as the elf just let go. What an idiot, she thought to herself, but continued to see if, by some vain chance, he'd actually survive or something. Why did he just let go? Was he a suicide case? It was probably too late to find out. As they watched, the Vortex began to subside, but there was a great deal of electrical activity going up there. Lightning struck a tree, shooting it into orange, hellish flames. She shielded her eyes from the light of the flames and continued to watch the Vortex as it dissipated. She could see that the sides of the Vortex were warbling erratically, shifting in and out. Suddenly, it winked out, like the picture on a television screen. The surrounding mist once again began to turn thick and hazy. And a figure descended at a smooth rate from the clear sky, a sword in one hand. The elf. She looked at him. He was a bit bruised, a few cuts here and there, but these were closing even as she watched. He put the sword away. "Now, can we please actually do something other than sit around on our asses and speculate?" he asked wearily. Some merely nodded. Others looked at him with something akin to respect. Sentel was busy continually scanning. "Whoever is up there, they are building up something again. I suggest we act. Fast." "Right ," Jarakh took command ," We'll try and take the brunt of the blast and crack that shield with as much as possible. It's probable that the defender is not the real Sorceror. Thus, he's weaker. Silken? That's your name, right? Doesn't matter. I want you and Saoirse to see if you can try to get in there. You too, Talon. Hurry. The rest of you, best defenses possible. Ponticars, Defense Aegis spell, NOW." Silken took Saoirse and Talon by the hand. Silken paused for a second and looked Saoirse in the eye. "Look, no offense Saoirse, but you are deaf, right?" he asked, embarrased. 'Yes, elf. Like you, I have my own problems' "Oh." They ran in the direction of the castle. Saoirse quickly shapeshifted into the form of a wolf using a spell, and Talon just used a quick-speed spell that he knew. Silken flew. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Darmal snarled to himself. The Air-Daemon had been defeated. He had expected as much, but had thought it could have at least injured one or two of them. He stopped, calmed himself and started again. A diffrent, more direct spell, more devastating. An Earthquake, perhaps. -- Mithrandir [tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie] Bill has loads of guns, and bombs, and more guns, and is dead cool. How is dat for Carictar Devleopment -- Alan O'Dea