Date: Tuesday, 22 Jun 1993 16:49:19 EDT
From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU>
Message-ID: <93173.164919344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU>
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [BBD] Rainbow in the Dark

[ADMIN: Again, this is essentially posted for all, since without the others,
 none of this could/should be done.]

As the door opened, everyone backed away from it. They moved as if some
signal had been given, caution and wariness evident in their bodies. It
truned out to be for naught, however, for all that came through the door
was a trill of laughter.

"You don't think I'd do something _that_ obvious, do you?" a voice inquired
from deep in the warehouse. "Well, don't just stand there, come in! No harm
need be done!"

There was a moment's pause as the group looked to each other for options. When
none were brought forth, they crossed the doorway. The light in the room and
the narrow path between line of stacked crates forced their attention towards
a figure several yards in front of them.

And for someone who spoke of no harm, the man certainly was prepared for
battle. Metal gleamed in the faint light, from his chest plate; from the
gauntlet-covered hands; from the huge axe he carried, its tip resting on the
floor; from his presence in general.

"Well, well. It seems that you've added another member." He motioned and
smiled slightly towards Arienne. "That doesn't really matter, though. The only
person that matters to me is one Kryalla Simuel. So stop hiding, 'Shrouded
One'... after all, there's a life at stake." His left hand reached behind him,
and pulled into view Yosef. The prisoner was held up by a rope strapped across
his back that connected his other binds; the position no doubt tightened them.
Meanwhile, the axe was lifted -- to their surprise -- with only his right
hand, and the two objects were slowly brought closer together.

Kryalla stepped forward. "That's enough, Parsephulas." The words carried both
the acknowledgment of her presence and a threat on the man who held Yosef.

Pars caught the tone, and widened his smile at it. "Well, if you _really_
want Yosef free, it's simplicity itself. Just give yourself up in his place."

All eyes shifted to the Shrouded One. No one dared say anything, knowing that
in the end it was _her_ decision. And for a veteran of such tactics as she
was, the choice was easy. She could take care of herself, but couldn't
trust the enemy to live up to their part of the bargain without her death,
and suspected an attack of her companions in any case. "No." was the whole of
the answer, the rest of her sentiment coming across clear with the tone.

"Have it your way, then." Pars dropped Yosef and raised his axe as a signal
to the others. In the next instant, all light vanished from the room, and a
small rumbling sound manifested as the crates came down upon the doorway area.
Caught so offguard, Pars knew the six could not dodge the debris, and felt the
wood would damage them -- if not plain knock them unconscious --, and end the
battle before it really began.

A minute or so after they settled, the boxes near the front shifted noticably,
and a bit of light shined through the cracks.

Gutt Man rushed to the scene at the movment, and focused on the light. He
planned to jump on whomever came first out of the pile, before they could
recover, and use the sight of their blood to appease him. Such was the
depth of his strategy, the largest plan he could make. He swallowed the
adrenaline that rose in his mouth, and -- with a cry -- lept...

A bubble of magical force pushed the last of the containers away. The
hemisphere had been erected at the sound of something plummeting, and was
being maintained by Darvos, Kryalla, and Tarkyn, while the others held torches
-- to Pars' dismay, none had even been scratched.

Which was more than could be said for Gutt Man once he hit the barrier. The
child-killer bounced off of it, landing in the boxes. But before his role
ended in this skirmish by his becoming the only one to succumb to the wood's
force, his knives struck, weakening the shield enough that trying to keep it
up lost its effectiveness.

Hands dragged Gutt Man away unseen, as the group focused attention briefly
on Pars, standing unemotional and unmoving. Kryalla tossed a fiery shuriken
at him, but then a massive wave of hideous, inhuman, salivating creatures
-- Arcania's daemons -- charged them, one catching the missile in its chest.

One of the last things the heroes saw in comfortable light -- for weapons were
thought to be needed more than torches -- was the face of the monster, turning
even further worse-looking. Its face contorted, emphasizing its evil features,
and its body fell to the floor, dissolved into a yellowish-white ooze over a
period of a few seconds. Any shock at the spectacle that might have been felt
by the group had no time to be expressed, for the enemy fell upon them.

He could not see in the dark, but Lancos had learned to fight even in
conditions where someone gifted with infravison could not see five feet in
front of them. Of course, that ability proved not to be necessary for the
first daemon, who seemed content to pierce itself on his blades. The beast
left ichor momentarily on the weapons, before that too dripped into a glop
of sticky, stinky material. But the warrior didn't concentrate on that,
instead now understanding the method behind the apparent madness. Three
creatures followed close behind the first, and by not being able to swing
effectively, he had made it easier for them to outnumber and surround him.

Cursing himself, he dodged and spun and parried along with his attacks, but
could not avoid _everything_. A blow ripped his stomach, sending his blood to
join to other liquid on the floor. When the offending daemon tongued his
fingers, for both physical and psychological reasons, Lancos slashed at the
hand. He connected, making the hand nearly useless, and damaging the mouth at
the same time.

Still, he knew the creature wasn't finished, and his own wound grew more
serious as time went on. Thus, when a magical missile hit the only injured --
on his side -- enemy, a wave of happiness washed over him, before he shook it
off in favor of remaining all business. The missile exploded on contact,
vaporizing the Thurlan and sending shrapnel onto the other two. In the light
given off, Lancos watched Darvos trod up to his side, and smile slightly at
him. The warrior also saw minor wounds on the mage's body, no doubt from an
encounter with at least one other foe. And now, the duo faced two enraged
enemy...

Arienne stayed as near to Kryalla as was possible. The blue light eminated
by the Shrouded One's blade served as the only real means to see the horrors
before her, and fighting was perhaps one of the few things she didn't do
equally well if not better in the dark. Also, Kryalla seemed all-too familiar
with these creatures, knowing where to strike, and not falling for their minor
tricks.

Not that Arienne herself had not contributed, for she had. She had destroyed
one outright after a number of blows, and distracted another that had tried to
attack Kryalla from the rear, until the Shrouded One could deal with it
properly. But she found comfort in not being alone, particularly since
Parsephulas awaited them not too far away. She fought back a small case of the
nerves, and strode side by side with Kryalla, the rebel's confidence perhaps
rubbing off enough that she felt ready to fight Pars when the time came. They
approached cautiously, since the man had not moved since the battle began...

On the right side, Kaalzic and Tarkyn were having the worst time of all. So
far, they were winning, but had taken their share of damage. For the only
thing they had to guide them was the glowing red eyes of their foes, which
gave them little actual impression of where they lie. Only Kaalzic's agility
and Tarkyn's experience kept things from being worse.

Then, a claw sliced into Tarkyn's knee, and the ranger figuratively as well
as literally saw red. Grabbing Kaalzic with his right hand to make sure the
painter was in front of him, he raised his left to call for a spell of light.

Perhaps contact with an artist such as Kaalzic altered the spell. Or perhaps
Tarkyn's anger and desperation caused him to produce an alternate effect from
what he had originally desired. Or perhaps it was a sign of the larger power
the ranger held within him after his battle with Raoh.

Whatever the cause, the effect was magnificent. Beams of light arced out of
his hand, a different color coming from each finger. The illumination spread
across the room, slowly curving down, and shining light throughout the
complex. As the ends hit the ground, Tarkyn brought his hand down, and smiled
proudly when the magic stayed.

* * * *
Light spread through Arienne's hair and over her eyes. She looked around a
bit, puzzled at what the cause was. Finding its source, she smiled and quickly
regained her focus... at least until she saw the scene before her.

The light passed through Pars' feet, and refracted them. She scanned the room,
viewing duplicates of Pars appear in all the colors of Tarkyn's rainbow, and
realized that what stood before her was in reality only an image. A purple
beam showed her that if anyone had stepped on the image's position, they would
have received a knife near the heart, the poison that covered the weapon
killing them if the initial strike hadn't. She gasped slightly as her close
call, and then, never being one to miss an opportunity, disarmed the trap and
claimed the blade for her own.

Elsewhere, the light ended the fight as far as the Thurlans were concerned.
Their advantage had been lost, and they were being devastated by the
rejuvenated, and again able-sighted heroes. Those enemies who could
adequately flee did so.

"Their loyalties must lie elsewhere." Darvos commented, aware of the usual
total servitude of the beings.

"Wherever Gutt Man and the _real_ Parsephulas are, I'd wager, since they're
obviously not here."

The others looked around, and found the comment to be true -- only Yosef
still remained in the building, besides themselves. Kryalla walked over to
the prisoner, and worked on his bonds. As the gag was removed, she glared
at him menacingly, and said "All right, talk."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu
(with, of course, a "little" help from my friends)