Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan)
Subject: [NTY] In the halls of the dead princes...
Message-ID: <1993Jul26.040838.29438@midway.uchicago.edu>
Date: Mon, 26 Jul 1993 04:08:38 GMT

[ADMIN note: the [NTY] posts written by Alan and I are two more-or-less
parallel timelines.  Thus, this happened just after my last [NTY]
post (Delving through the hoar...) and before Alan's scorpion post]

(Hastily scribbled entry in the journal of Gunther Toodie):

-The others have all been carried off, or lost, or eaten, or worse.  My
only two companions now are stalwart Crussen and wise Sadaget.  Abandoning
our quest, we sought only to escape from these perilous caverns.

We spied daylight coming from some kind of aperture high above and intended
to climb up, or call for help from the camp or something.  Commencing
our attempts, we were immediately beset by a number of the "khoboldi",
the noisome hole-dwellers whome we blame for the destruction of our 
expedition.  Nets were thrown over us and we were incapacitated by
a blow to the head.  The last thing I remembered was the terrible
chittering of these rank vermin echoing through the corridors.

I returned to consciousness and found myself still bound.  A light breeze
indicated that I must have been in a large cavern ventilated from above,
but there was no light.  Filling the darkness was an unwholesome
cacophony off the khoboldi's same inhuman jibbering.  I screamed to
be released and the jibbering intensified, as if the creatures were
mocking me.  Suddenly, a torch was ignited mere inches from my face and
I found myself peering into the face of what must have been the chieftain
of these vile creatures.  His ears were long and pointed, and his skin
was an unhealthy pale green.  His teeth were twisted and broken and his
breath disgusting.  His eyes were huge and pale like two moons
reflected in a subterranean mere.  And this creature... this thing... 
spoke tto me.

"You are... a man?"  His accent was almost impenetrable, suggesting
archaism.

I fearfully nodded a reply.  He continued, "I... too, was once a man.
Like you.  No, greater than you."  He fingered some kind of blackened
medallion which I had not previously noticed.

"Once, a very long time ago, I was a king ammong men.  And these..."
he indicated with a wretched arm the tumultuous throngs of screeching
imps  "were my subjects, proud and many.  And thiswas the greatest
city in the land or in any land."

"The survivors of Alamatar!  The legend is true!"  cried Sadaget, and
I realized that my companions were fettered somewhere nearby in the
shadows.

"Is that what they call my people, now?  Survivors?"  He continued.
"In the past, when My People Walked in the Sun, our might was great and
our accompmplishments renowned.  So glorious was our land that the very
Gods grew envious.  And there passed an age when the Gods Walked in the
Sun, and they tried to smite our people, but our heroes were victorious.
A score of spirit-gods were slain, and disperseed forever

"And we aimed to return the invasion done our people with an attack
of our own.  We constructed a tower which scraped thebottom of the sky,
and our heroes went forth to avenge themselves upon the Gods.

"But our foes were victorious.  And fire rained upon the land for
seven years, and the fields turned to sand and the rivers dried to dust.
And our cities... cast into the caverns of shadow."

The king was silent for a moment.  "And we fled the eye of the storming
Gods and dwelt in this place, forever in shadow and never-dying.  For
it is our curse to live until the end of days in these dread ruins-
a parody of our own splendid creation.

"So low have we fallen, yea, but we will rise again from these
caves and rebuild our proud towers and palaces.  So go, go! and tell
the Gods that we fear them not, and that we will avenge our proud
country!"

"Where are the others," demanded Gunther.  "What have you done with
the other members of our party?"

"Get out, get out!"  the king shrieked and hopped.  Gunther and his
two companions were grabbed and hauled back through countless passages
and corridors, ever towards the sun.  At last their binds were removed
and they were free to emerge from the tunnel on their own.

Gunther observed at once that there was some sort of disruption in
progress at the camp.  Warning Crussen and Sadaget, he sprinted for
the shelter of a dugout cellar constructed for the storage of food.
Some sort of barbarian mounted on horseback intercepted the trio and 
swung a long pole-like club, knocking Sadaget to the grounnd.  Crussen
attacked the barbarian, forcing him to dismount.  While Crussen wrestled
with the barbarian, Gunther drrew his sword and backed into cellar, 
hurriedly checking to see whether his intended hiding-place had
already been compromised.  He pulled the hatch-like door down over
him and waited in the darkness...

Hours later he wwas roughly awakened from slumber in his hiding-place as
the trapdoor was opened and a barbarian entered the cellar.  Before
Gunther could react, his hands were tied and he was roughly pulled
back into the daylight.  His arms were bound behind him and a blindfold
or hood pulled over his eyes even before he had the chance to study his
captors.  Appparently, some raiders from the south or east had infiltrated
this part of the Reszhian desert and, spying the encampment, had attacked
in search of plunder.  As he was forcefully tugged by a rope (perhaps
to follow other prisoners to which he was bound), Gunther could only
wonder who had taken him hostage, and for what price they would be
willing to release him...	
-- 
Dennis Brennan
djb6@midway.uchicago.edu