Date: Tue, 29 Jun 1993 11:53:18 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93180.115318ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Trawma Team Trawm lay headless in a darkened corner of the Spitting Cobra. He had been the first to find the hole in reality. Its paradoxical nature caused a marked lapse in his sanity, driving him to rip off his own head. His troll blood was already working to grow a new head, but for now, he was blessed with unconsciousness. Around him, his tavern was anything but quiet. These were not his normal customers; they would be home looking after a hangover or passed out in some shaded alley. No, these folks were a strange assortment of people from all walks of life. Several appeared to be holy men and women, told by their brightly colored robes and "My god is better than yours" attitude. Luthor sighed. He just hoped that they could work together when they were needed most. Serene brushed past him rolling a small keg of Catamount Porter. Luthor helped her put it upon a table. "I could only find a couple of these. 'Raelf drank the Inn's supply this morning. I had to get this one from Brycur." She wiped the sweat from her brow. "How much did it cost." Luthor reached inside his cloak for some money. "Nothing. He gave it to me as a belated house warming gift. There's another outside. Give me a hand?" "Sure," Luthor agreed. On their way out of the inn, they passed Erik. He had gone back to ShadeHaven to retrieve their model of Generica. Now, it was set up near the front of the bar, supported at its corners by four empty beer mugs. Above the top of the model floated the normal probability field of Generica; a red fog that dipped and bobbed with the turning of luck and fortune. Erik, however, was more concerned with the bottom of the model. There was a anomaly in the field so severe that it went through the model and out again from the bottom. Beneath the model, the anomoly shaped itself into a bubble...a pocket in reality. After checking the readings of the model a few more times, Erik stepped outside the inn. Through his Mage Sight he could see lines of power criss-crossing Generica, being bounced, curved, and redirected into the Spitting Cobra. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he didn't like the looks of it. "I'll bet 'Raelf's involved in all this," he said to himself aloud. "Luthor told me long ago that I should never make a bet with a ShadowMaker." Serene smiled, "Now if you will be so kind, move out of the doorway. This keg is heavy." Erik looked down to see that she held one end of a dark wooden keg; Luthor was at the other end. He stepped asside and made an exaggerated immitation of one of Luthor's bows. "Your pardon my lady," he said sweetly. Serene laughed at the pantomime, Luthor scowled at his teacher's teasing. After they passed, Erik's thoughts again returned to 'Raelf. For one reason or another, he needed to talk to the 'kan - soon. Luthor and Serene set the second keg beside the first, then sat down for a short rest. Luthor took out a blue silk handkerchief and wiped his brow, "It's hot enough in this place to roast a devil. I have half a mind to tap one of these kegs now." "No, if 'Raelf is involved in all of this, he'll need them both. You should see him gulp the beer down. He must have hollow legs or something." "Maybe he does. I've seen stranger things in Generica." Luthor thought about the friends he had made in the past year...a Vampire, a Drow, a Gnome who was sometimes a burning cat, a Halfling ghost... Hollow legs would be quite normal in comparison. Erik re-entered the inn and walked through the barroom to the kitchen. There, suspended in the air, was the shimmering hole that connected the "pocket reality" to this one. This was the focus point for the lines of power. He turned quickly. For a moment, he could have sworn that there was someone else in the kitchen. He had seen a humanoid shape out of the corner of his eye, but now it was gone. Convinced that his eyes were playing tricks on his fatigued mind, he turned away from the floating sphere and left the kitchen. Inside the main barroom, Luthor was in the middle of addressing the group he had gathered, "I know it's hot and you have other things to do Mother Ardessa, but I assure you that this is important. If you will all have patience, I think we can do a lot of good here today. Whatever is going on now is going to affect Generica's future - Oh, I see that Erik has returned. Perhaps he will have some more answers for us - Erik?" "Well, first of all, lets get the heat problem fixed..." a look of concentration crossed his face. His GREY cloak began moving as if moved by an unseen breeze. Erik spread his hands wide and said with the ressonance of ShadowMagic, "THE WIND COULD BLOW!" A rush of cool air filled the Spitting Cobra. The group inside let out a small sigh of relief; more than one face grinned. Then the wind blew a little harder...and harder. The group in the 'Cobra looked at eachother as if to ask "Did he mean for this to happen?" Erik mentally slapped himself. He decided to act quickly before the Spitting Cobra became Nexus's first high velocity wind tunnel permanently. "THE WIND COULD STOP!" An instant later, it did. Overall, conditions had improved. The inn would stay cool for a while - perhaps keeping the clergy satisfied and inside the inn for a few more minutes. Luthor set the group back to their assigned tasks, preparing for the return of whatever was in the reality pocket. He walked over to Erik and asked quietly, "What was that all about? A breeze would have been nice. I wasn't asking for a recurrence of the Great Storm." "I shouldn't have tried to manipulate the wind while so close to that pocket. It's drawing in so much power that anything we try to do will be amplified. I don't think we can do much else but sit here and wait." "Do you think I should send Serene back to ShadeHaven? If something goes wrong, I wouldn't want Mista to be an orphan." A look of concern crossed Erik's young face making him look much older than his normal early-twenties appearance. He leaned close to one of Luthor's pointed ears and said something that would echo in his soul: "Luthor, if something goes wrong, it won't matter where Serene is. No one in Generica will be safe." Love and Peace and The TRUTH, -The Dreamer-