Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: clayton@austin.ibm.com (Clayton Colwell) Subject: [ex-TW] Eski's Flashin' Back Message-ID: Date: Fri, 25 Jun 1993 16:04:04 GMT The tears continued to flow as Eski knelt on the cobblestones of the street, his face cupped in his bleeding hands, the smoking remnant of the shapeshifted demon wafting away in the night breeze. Granite shook itself out of Eski's hood and gave a quizzical squawk. Hearing no response but muted sobbing, Granite fluttered onto his shoulder and inclined its head on Eski's hair, trying to offer whatever solace a parrot might give. Eski, lost in his memories: The scrape of claws. The high-pitched screeching laugh of the dragon, whose acidic saliva had corrupted Eski's eyes. The gurgling ripping sounds of meat being stripped from the bodies of Eski's new-found friends. The clink of armor as it was cast aside. A snapping of bone and wand. Eski waited, numb and terrified, for the fangs of the beast to pierce his body and send his spirit to the Outer Worlds. He waited, horrified at the sounds of feeding. After an interminable time, the slurping and chewing noises stopped. Eski braced himself, clenching his fists helplessly in his robe. Then...a voice. Deep, resonant, filled with broken glass, it grated through Eski's ears and slashed his remaining sense of composure. He began screaming as the voice spoke: "So, little one, your companions have fed me well. Come, clean up now. I have need of your services." Eski cried out until his throat was fiery with strain. As his scream died out, the voice spoke again: "Shout all you want, little one. There is no one to help you, only me." A deep chuckle sounded and echoed throughout the cavern. "And now there is *you* to help me. Let us start. *NOW*!" The last word spoken hit Eski with the force of stone, the inevitability of decay. He scrambled to his feet, broken crystal crunching underneath his boots, droplets of hot liquid dripping down his face. "Now CRAWL!" the voice commanded. "Clean up this mess that your companions have made. No need for rags; their *unneeded* clothing shall suffice." Eski trembled but could not force his limbs to move. "*CRAWL*!" The voice spewed volume from directly above his head. Flying drops of acid showered on him, searing his hands, hissing on his hood. Eski threw himself on the rock floor and began scrabbling for cloth, burning his hands in acid puddles and piercing them with broken crystal shards. His right hand came across a small bundle. He snatched at it and began to pass it along the floor. A smoky acrid stench hit him full in the face as he mopped up acid and blood and other liquids; he felt the heat rise in the cloth as it was slowly eaten away. High above him, Eski heard the dragon chuckle once again, like a iron chain dragged on a steel plate. He heard a leathery creaking, then the scraping of armor plate on the floor. Next came a airy swish and a crash, followed by the musical tinkling of fallen crystal. "Note the spot well, *slave*; once you're done cleaning up, you may drag the remains *there*. As I said," the voice finished menacingly, "note the spot *well*." [ADMIN: I'll be net-less for two weeks . If anyone happens upon a weeping gnome in the street near the Dragon's Inn during Generica's Birthday night, you should know that the poor little fellow is effectively catatonic. If you want to help, be my guest. His mind right now could use a soothing touch.] -- Clay Colwell "If homosexuality is a disease, then let's all call archmage@vnet.ibm.com in queer to work." - Robin Tyler IBM Austin, TX Disclaimer: This is *Clay* talkin', not IBM.