MagicHutchHeader Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!wupost!cs.utexas.edu!uwm.edu!caen!cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu!344lwkc Organization: Central Michigan University Date: Friday, 5 Mar 1993 10:50:31 EST From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93064.105032344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Ga] It's a _Good_ Life Lines: 175 [ADMIN: Thanks to Joe and Jon for the use of their chars in this, and their contributions for the post.] For a change, Brent awoke early in the day. That might have surprised the others in the party, since previously the half-elf had shown the signs of a late riser. But that had been due to the lethargy the immunization process had installed. Now, however, he was more his normal self, and neither profession of thief or guard had provided much of an opportunity to develop the pattern of sleeping all day. Brent saw Mathew and Zebron talking, and released a smile. He might have to talk to both of them today, but it would be a private session in each case. He had something he wanted to do first, anyways. He walked to a tree of reasonable distance that the noise of his planned operation wouldn't carry back to camp. He carved a crude bullseye pattern on the tree, and stepped back an appropriate distance. He then withdrew a blowgun and some of the darts -- ones that had already been cleaned of their poison during the battle; waste not, want not -- that he had picked up from the last attackers, and began to practice. Whhhhhhh -- thump! Right in the middle -- of the outermost ring. Whhhhhhh -- thump! So little an improvement, it was almost worse. Whhhhhhh -- thump! Much better, though _still_ not in the center. Whhhhhhh -- thump! Back near that outer ring agin. And just when he was almost feeling encouraged. But what could he expect? He had never trained with the blowgun, and it would take more than a few minutes of practice to make it even close to as familiar a projectile as his dagger. The thought of the dagger caused him to unsheath it, and throw it as a test of his dexterity. It hit a tad high of dead center, but well within the bullseye region, and gave Brent confidence that all he needed was further practice. He walked over and pulled out the missiles, then prepared to repeat his "work". After a few more minutes, Mathew had finished his talk with Zebron, as evidenced by the two separating. Brent motioned the young paladin over, and Mathew trodded to him, anticipating yet more instruction. "So what did you and Zebron discuss?" Brent asked causally. "My death." Mathew said softly, his interpretation of Zebron's words still fresh in his mind. "I do hope you're speaking figuratively, or about something far in the future. Why were you talking about something like that, anyway?" "He said how it was a good day to die, and made me realize that I should live each day like it was my last." "Hmmm -- sounds a bit unlike him, but then I never claimed to really know _any_ of these people. Personally, though, I've always been the type to _prepare_ for tomorrow, to make sure I see two days from now. Survival has always been a goal of mine, possibly supplemented somewhat by comfort and maybe even wealth as of late." Mathew nodded, absorbing this other viewpoint. It was a bit closer to what he was used to; farming often meant long-term waits. He wondered which philosophy was more correct for him. Then he realized that _both_ might be: that he should live -- with no regrets -- his life as best he could, without needless risks and with at least moderate preparation for the future. "I think I understand." the paladin announced. "That's good, because I don't want you ruthlessly charging into battle again. Which is why I called you over here in the first place. To see if you'd be interested in using the blowguns the bandits had as a distance weapon..." Mathew felt Brent was implying _more_, and became a bit angry at the idea. "Listen, Brent, theivery is one thing. I don't approve of any of it, but I can understand how people can get in desperate situations. So I can forgive you for being a thief. But I certainly wouldn't use poison." Brent was taken aback a bit by the tone. "Well, for one thing, the thievery is basically in the past, as long as I've employment in the guard or in this quest.". The half-elf was tempted to continue with similar anger, but he paused a second to cool off. "And second, I never suggested you _did_ use it, even if I will." he said, although he _had_ wondered about the situation. "Although you _should_ learn that sometimes you need to fight fire with fire, or poison with poison or whatever. It's not even deadly, except perhaps when combined with swordplay..." Brent pauses again, remembering his and Kyleen's teamwork. Meanwhile, Mathew shook his head slightly, apparantly not finding the concept universally true, and wanting nothing to do with poison. "But what I _really_ want is for you to use something from range." Brent continued. "Knowledge of how to use a bow is what kept that wizard from attacking us most of the time, and what led to his downfall." "Ok, I'll remember that." Mathew conceded. "Is that all?" "Yeah, for now. Alaric's probably waiting for you. And I'm going to take a bit of my own advice, and talk to Zebron." As the paladin went off the continue his learning experiences with this troupe, Brent walked over to the drow's location. Zebron had his hood on to protect his eyes from the blazing sun, and was sitting facing away, probably in meditation. As Brent approached, Dusk let out a caw. "Hello, Brent." Zebron said without turning around. "All done with Mathew?" "Yeah, sort of." Brent answered, moving next to Zebron, and trying not to feel awkward that Zebron had known who it was. "Though I'd like to trade places with Alaric -- he might have the easier job." "So what do you have to say to me? Going to teach _me_ a thing or two?" Zebron flashed a smile that seemed playful and open at the same time. "We'll see." Brent returned the smile. "Mainly, I realized that we haven't talked since we found exactly _what_ we are. Or at least what a section of us will always be." Zebron nodded. "You couldn't know about it, but as one of the Black Eel's bandits said, 'Once a thief, always a thief.'." "Hmmm. I guess it's up to the individual to decide whether that's a good or bad thing, eh?" Zebron couldn't help but laugh at that. Suggesting to someone like him, a renegade Drow, about people's misconceptions -- or just plain bigotry -- was at the least amusing. "Sometimes you surprise me, Brent. Like when you were dealing with your protection from the poison." "Oh, you know about that, eh?" Brent said, unsure about how Zebron felt about it. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. You _would_ probably have the best ability to tell it had happened, and to know why I did it. "Yes, Brent, and I have to admire the way you did it. Personally, I come from a magic-rich area, and so anything like that that handled without magic seems formidable." Brent might have blushed had he known how full a complement that was. But as it was, he shrugged it off. Though his home region was probably on the average as far as magic was concerned, it was another thing he personally had been poor in in childhood, one that had remained as such through the present. "Anyway, I wanted to talk about the philosophy you shared with Mathew." "Oh, he mentioned that, did he? Certainly you don't mind if I try to give him some advice..." "Of course not. To say only I should teach him would be both selfish and overpossessive. And I fell like I'm somewhere outside the core of this group already, without adding any hostility. I'm just wondering about that part about living each day as if it were your last." "What about it? I only meant that you should live life to its fullest, and not have any regrets." Brent paused, a bit confused. "Really? I think _Mathew_ interpreted it as an excuse to be reckless, a sort of 'Well, if I'm going to die anyway...' attitude." "Hmm -- strange. Maybe I should talk to him again." "Nah, I've handled it. I think. I _hope_." The conversation stopped for a moment, the sound of the wind the only noise the two could hear. Then suddenly Dusk cawed steadily, and flew around as if agitated. "What's up?" Brent asked. He stood up and began glancing around nervously. "I'm not sure." Zebron said matter-of-factly. "Something, though. Something magical, I believe. Dusk seems to have a sense about those kind of things." Any reply Brent might have had was cut off, as every remnant of the campsite vanished. The few people nearby -- some of whom had heard the festivities of the night before, and wanted to see what manner of creatures might have been involved in it -- would later swear that the group had disappeared in a thought, with no outward signs. This, of course, only lended to the legend of the experience... ============================================================================ Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu SAQ: "Disappear/Before your eyes..."-Dio MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: cl240006@ulkyvx.louisville.edu Subject: - - - WANTED ! - - - Message-ID: <1993Mar6.063721.1@ulkyvx.louisville.edu> Date: Sat, 6 Mar 1993 10:37:21 GMT * * * W A N T E D * * * List of telenet Multi user games !! thanks!! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu (christopher motherway) Subject: Raoh Adventurers..UNITE! Message-ID: Date: Fri, 5 Mar 1993 17:50:14 GMT All those whom I have personally E-mailed concerning the quest for Raoh the Conqueror please E-mail me back at the above address so that I can confirm where to send the 'mission briefings' to on 3-8-93. Thanx in advance. Chris Wolvie --------------------------------- "You cried to me...with your mind. Let it rest now, serene and calm." -Ken, FIST OF THE NORTH STAR P.S. ADMIN: Just want you to know this is a TEMPORARY and EXCLUSIVE group (or 'string'). It will not last very long. MagicHutchHeader From: cgirard@metz.une.edu.au (CHRISTIAN GIRARD) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Genesis of Timelord: Part I Message-ID: <221@grivel.une.edu.au> Date: 7 Mar 93 00:06:25 GMT ADMIN: Well, here it is , after far too long, the first part of the life history of Timelord. Enjoy! Genesis of Timelord The years past as Timelord grew up in his father's house. Hoelt was a moderately prosperous fur dealer, and so was often away from home for extended periods buying and selling. When at home he was a doting parent, full of love and laughs. Bravya ran the home, commanding their few servants, and spending most of her time caring for her son. Although having a nanny to care for Timelord when she was busy, Bravya spent as much time as possible with him, raising him in the best was she knew. And so the years went by. Timelord grew from a small baby into a healthy toddler, then to a tall young boy. At five he was tall and fit, his curly brown hair cut at shoulder length. One night in Timelord's seventh year Hoelt returned home in a state of great excitement. He breezed into the sitting room, caught Bravya by the waist and twirled her round and round the room, laughing all the while. He planted an exuberant kiss on her lips, then danced over to the fireplace. "I have done it!" he cried joyously. "Done what?" asked Bravya breathlessly. Hoelt moved over to his wife. "Do you remember that great trade caravan expedition planned all those months ago," he said more seriously, "designed to foster trade and relations between ourselves and the other lands?" Bravya nodded. "It's going ahead!" Hoelt could no longer contain his excitement. He strode around the room, his eyes shining. "After all this time, the greatest expedition ever to set out from this land is about to commence. Traders from everywhere, as well as diplomats, will all gather together and set out to meet the rest of the world. Through all the great duchies, the principalities, the great cities - all will be visited!" He turned again to his wife. "And we'll be with them," he whispered. "That's wonderful!" cried Bravya. Then she frowned. "But what about our son? He's nearly at the age of calling..." "It's all been taken care of," he interrupted. "There will be other children coming too, and teachers have been provided to care for their education. Priests too, so if our journey isn't over by the time he is nine, then he can still go through the ceremony. This is the opportunity of a lifetime!" "Oh, Hoelt!" she said, embracing him warmly, "When do we start?" The next month was a time of frantic activity all over the land. Although not every trader could possibly make the journey, everyone knew that if it were a success, it could result in great riches for the land. The best the people had to offer was provided; livestock, grains, farm animals and produce, precious metals and stones, everything was gathered in readiness. Also prepared were the political delegations who would be there not only to ensure that trade deals went smoothly, but also to strengthen and in some cases make diplomatic ties with the governments they encountered. In total the expedition numbered two hundred men, women and children. There were farmers, blacksmiths, stone masons, bakers, butchers, teachers, priests, servants and guards, as well as others that represented a cross section of the entire land. They set out one fine summer's morning, cheered on their way by those who waited for their eventual return and the great profits it would reap. Hoelt was one of the leaders of the trade caravans, part of a council of people responsible for the organisation of the various produce caravans. They kept the herds in order, settled minor disputes, and planned how to keep everyone fed and happy. The leader of the expedition was Count Astoph of Myle, who as both head of the caravan and chairman of the diplomats was the most powerful man among them. It was he who made the main decisions, set the goals for the journey, and who ultimately ratified all judgments made by the council. The plan was simple, yet wide in scope. The caravan would wind its way firstly through the nearby duchies, spending relatively little time in their friendly neighbour's lands. They would then spiral outwards through increasingly distant lands, finishing in Generica, the largest mainland trading city, and a place of great prosperity. At each capital city or palace, a delegation would meet with the leaders in trade and government from that land, in an effort to seal trade routes and diplomatic ties. Once their travels were complete, the caravan would return home, bearing news of their epic journey. The first stop was the duchy of Valiast in the Great Heath, where the duke, Gallan Valiast, would join the caravan with his youngest son and a small body of his personal guard. As a close friend of Astoph, Gallan wished to join the caravan to lend his skills at diplomacy and visit the other earls and barons of the lands. They reached the duke's house in the late afternoon. While the rest of the caravan made camp, Count Astoph went up to the house to meet his friend. The two men shook hands. "Astoph, my old friend," said Gallan warmly, "it has been too long. How are you and your wife?" "They're fine," replied Astoph. "And what of you? I hear your youngest son is growing well. What is he now? six?" "Seven a week ago," Gallan said, "and just as excited as I am to join this momentous expedition." He turned and gave a brief order to a waiting servant. "Stay for dinner," he offered, "we will be ready to leave at first light, along with a detachment of my own personal guard, just in case we run into some trouble." "Gladly," accepted Astoph, and the two moved into the manor. The caravan moved out at dawn, the wagons, horses and livestock stringing out for some considerable distance. Count Valiast's personal guard rode up and down the flanks, chatting casually to the people, and keeping an eye out for trouble. The captain of the guard, Captain Skerg, rode at the head of the column, his brightly plumed helmet gleaming in the sun. Inclined to slight portliness, he constantly talked of his past exploits in various armed services, pausing only to give orders to his subordinates. Those who rode with him soon grew tired of his constant talk, but decided to humour him. With so many families making the journey, there were a fair number of children in the caravan. Although their time was pretty much their own, teachers had been provided for them to see to their education. So at specific times during the day classes would be held, ranging from letter-learning and counting for the young to apprenticeship and scholastic services for the older. Timelord was in a class of eight other six and seven year olds, among them Valiast's son Rollik. By nature a quiet boy, Timelord usually sat quietly and listened, seeming not to crave the attention of the others in the class. He was by no means slow - in fact he was brighter than all the other children except for Rollik. Rollik was in many ways the antithesis of Timelord, being outgoing, talkative, and ready to take the lead at the nearest opportunity. Although high-born, he readily mixed with the others in the class, and the teachers were genuinely fond of him. Timelord liked him as well, though he usually didn't say very much to him during the classes. That changed about two weeks into the expedition. It was early evening, and Timelord was returning to his family's caravan after watching some of the guard train. He often did this when the caravan had halted for the night, thinking it would be very fine to one day serve in such a force. He was passing a darkened part of the camp when he heard voices coming out of the darkness. "Hey, rich boy," whispered someone nastily, "who's gonna help you now?" "Yeah, teacher's pet," came a second, nasally voice, "we's gonna teach you a lesson!" Muffled laughter filled the air. "Unhand me!" Timelord could easily identify Rollik's voice. He crept towards the sounds, making no noise. A natural cleft in a rock face formed a kind of dead-end alley, and it was from here that the voices came. Timelord sidled up to the entrance and looked in. Four boys, all two to three years older than Rollik and Timelord, had Rollik trapped in the cleft. Timelord thought he recognised two of them - a pair that had a reputation as troublemakers and bullies. Knowing that Rollik had no chance against them on his own, Timelord decided to lend a hand. As quietly as he could, he made his way towards the group, staying close to one wall to avoid being seen. The boys were pushing Rollik around, obviously building up to something more violent. Rollik was trying to talk his way out and occasionally attempting to force his way past them, but to no avail. Then, out of the corner of his eye, Rollik saw Timelord approaching. Immediately he began to sniffle and sob, changing rapidly from a belligerent youngster into a snivelling, pitiful baby. "Go away!" he said between shuddering breaths. "I want my daddy!' he cried, then crouched on the ground, hands over his head, bawling loudly. "Crybaby," sneered the closest boy, standing over him, "crybaby, crybaby!" The others took up the chant. "Crybaby, crybaby, crybaby, cry...." The mocking chant broke off suddenly when Timelord, with the most ferocious shout he could muster, leapt onto the back of the closest boy, bringing the two of them crashing to the ground. The one who had been standing over Rollik's sobbing form turned to see what was happening, but he too fell to the ground, grimacing in pain as Rollik, with a seemingly miraculous recovery, punched him in a very tender spot. Timelord leapt up quickly and motioned to Rollik. "Let's get out of here!" he shouted. Together they turned to run out of the trap, but were blocked by the other two boys. Behind them, they could hear the two they had downed approaching. Desperately they stood back to back, knowing they were bound to lose this fight. There was a flare of torchlight at the mouth of the cleft, and an armed figure appeared. "What's going on?" he shouted. The boys took one look, and panicked. "The guard!" one of them shouted, and they ran for the exit. Three of them got away, but one, the boy Rollik had punched, was caught by the guard as he attempted to flee. Rollik and Timelord walked slowly out of the rocks, relieved that they had been spared what would have been a violent fate. Rollik turned to Timelord. "My idea worked, didn't it?" he said with a smile. "Idea?" queried Timelord, puzzled as to what he meant. "You know, to pretend that I was scared of them so you could creep up on them easier," Rollik explained. "I guess it did," said Timelord, thinking it over as they emerged into the light. The experiences of that night made the two close friends. They were inseparable, whether it be during classes, playing in the sun, or even just traveling along. They made elaborate boyhood plans, each promising the other undying friendship. Their parents looked upon their friendship favourably, although like all boys they could be very trying. Their frequent escapades, although just harmless boyhood fun, would often leave the adults around them wondering what they could possibly do to protect themselves. Their most common trick was to "acquire", as Timelord put it, various foodstuffs from the kitchens and store wagons. Their usual method was for Rollik to brazenly go up to those on kitchen duty and ask them all sorts of boyish questions, like "what goes in there?', or "is that for the guards?", or "is this really hot?" While the adults were occupied with answering his questions and trying to keep him out of trouble, Timelord would quietly sneak in, take what he was after, and sneak out again. After a while those who were regularly in the kitchens realised what they were up to, but it was a rare occasion that Timelord or Rollik were caught. As the weeks and months past, the caravan would its way slowly through the land. One week before Timelord's ninth birthday, the caravan made camp near the Bottleneck Pass, and the Council met for some serious discussion. Gallan was the first to speak. "My friends," he began, "this has indeed been a momentous journey, one that I am sure will be of great benefit to your land when you return. I feel privileged to have been part of it. "Now, however, it is time for us to part company for a while, as I have some business in the Barony of Stifer that cannot wait. Yet I will be with you not only in spirit but in reputation, as I now instruct my personal guard to remain with the caravan until its return, providing protection for the miscreants that lurk along the remainder of your route." This caused some consternation amongst the assembled leaders. Astoph rose. "You shall indeed be missed," he said gravely, "but we thank you for the continued protection for the rest of our journey. Your companionship and wisdom has been invaluable, and we look forward to our reunion in Verland." The next morning Rollik and his family departed, accompanied by a half-dozen guards. Timelord stood forlornly at his mother's side, sad that his friend had to go, but he knew that they would meet again in Verland. The passage past the mountains down to the sea was long, hot and dusty, as that region had been gripped by drought for some time. Although the caravan had plenty of stored water, it was still an uncomfortable time. Finally they reached the coast. Astoph decided to halt the caravan for a few days to give the people and animals some time to recover from the journey. Timelord's excitement grew as he could smell the scent of the ocean in the air getting stronger and stronger. Finally it appeared before them, a glittering blue mass of water, stretching as far as the eye could see. The next couple of days were sheer bliss for the boy as he played in the sea (under the watchful eyes of his mother), built sand castles and collected shells. He was quite disappointed when, a few days later, he was told they were due to leave the next afternoon. The combination of disappointment at leaving the sea and excitement at the prospect of seeing Rollik again meant that Timelord slept only fitfully. Not long before dawn he gave up on getting any more sleep. He rose, dressed, and went out to look at the ocean one last time. The morning was cool. but pleasant. As he walked along the beach he thought of the last few months, and wondered what sights he would see in Generica. Not long after dawn he turned to head back to the camp. As he approached, he noticed some distance away on the landward side of the camp what appeared to be strange glittering lights hovering just over the horizon. Curious, he stopped for a moment to watch. The early dawn light made them appear surreal as they floated towards the camp. As the sun rose higher the strange sight became clear. The lights resolved into bright spears and swords, the sun gleaming from their tips. Men on horseback and afoot charged towards them, faint cries now reaching the camp. Closer and closer they came, and Timelord stood as if frozen to the spot. Suddenly the guards caught sight of them. Orders were frantically shouted, with men rushing about everywhere. Within a few minutes the whole camp was roused, and Timelord, the sudden activity breaking through his shock, rushed back to his family's tent. Captain Skerg appeared, hurriedly jamming his plumed helmet on his head. He took one look at the approaching raiders and turned a pasty white, his knees trembling. The incoming force numbered around a hundred, far outnumbering the guards that protected the caravan. But the guards were trained fighters, battle-hardened and ready; at least, that's what Captain Skerg always said. The men in the camp hurriedly grabbed weapons, either conventional or makeship. There was no time to form a plan of battle, for the enemy was upon them. They appeared to have been drawn from all the lands,. and there lack of uniforms spoke more loudly than words that they were mercenaries. They fell upon the hapless traders, hacking their way through flesh and bone in an orgy of destruction. Hoelt took a firmer grip on the old long sword, thankful that he had at least some instruction on how to use it. He swung desperately now, defending himself and his family grimly against the attackers, and waited until the guards mounted some sort of counter attack. A sudden disturbance behind him made him turn, and to his shock he saw Captain Skerg and two lieutenants saddled and preparing to flee. He ran towards them. "What to you think you are doing?" he screamed at Skerg. To his left he saw Bravya and Timelord peering out of their tent, the fear evident on their faces. "I'm saving my skin," shouted Skerg in reply, "which is more than I can say for you! I always said this was madness! It was doomed from the start!" "But you swore to defend us!" Hoelt couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I'll not throw my life away for nothing!" Skerg looked around, sweat pouring off him. "How you die is up to you. Me, I'm out of here!" With that he wheeled his horse, and with his lieutenants following, galloped madly up the beach. Hoelt ran back to his family. "You have to get out of here," he told them hurriedly, "Skerg has deserted us." "But, but," stammered Bravya, "he promised to.." "I know," interrupted Hoelt, "but he's gone all the same. Come on." They ran from the tent, Hoelt leading them away from the main fighting. Most of the guards had remained behind, but without proper leadership and badly outnumbered, it was only a matter of time before they were all killed. Their destination was the horse pens, and Hoelt hoped to get his wife and son on a horse and out of the fighting. But as they rounded a series of wagons ahead of them they saw two mounted raiders, who charged, swords swinging. "Get out of here!" shouted Hoelt as he stepped forward to meet the attack. Bravya and Timelord staggered back as the two bore down on Hoelt. He swung at the first, cutting him out of the saddle. He tried to avoid the blow from the second, but the attacker's sword caught him across his back, sending him to the ground. "Hoelt!" screamed Bravya. She scrambled towards her fallen husband, who was forcing himself to his knees. Using his sword as a lever he staggered to his feet, waving his wife away as the raider turned to attack again. Hoelt advanced again, trying to put some space between himself and his wife. Weakly raising his sword he tried to defend himself, but to no avail. The raider's sword crashed through his defenses, severing his head from his shoulders. Quickly shifting his weight the raider leaned down, caught Bravya around the waist with his left arm, and was gone. The Blade of Malchrntyne (CJ)| There comes a time when the jewels cease to Drummond College D220 | sparkle, and the gold loses its lustre, and x 2408/2438 | the throne room becomes a prison - and all There can be only one. | that remains is a father's love for his child MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolf@cheshire.oxy.edu (Clinton Richard Wolf) Subject: [L&S: Party [Lucas]]: An Arrival in Spite of Himself... Message-ID: <1993Mar7.001853.20514@cheshire.oxy.edu> Date: Sun, 7 Mar 1993 00:18:53 GMT [characters: Lucas, ...sage] "Well, what's this?" the blind drow said suddenly, perking up his ears as sounds of drunken laughter and singing trickled from a nearby street... "I think it's a party! Come on, Father, let's have a look..." Without waiting for a reply from his companion, he took off towards the noise, per- haps a little more quickly than he might have had the man he was talking with been better company. Father Lucas watched him as he went, and would have shaken his head, if he hadn't felt it an unneccessarily taxing activity. It was always the same with archmagi... they would talk to him long enough to satisfy their curiosity, and then take off again, usually at quite a rapid pace. He sighed deeply and turned to go, but was surprised to hear the drow call back to him... "Aren't you coming?" Lucas shuffled around to face him, half-wondering if the mage was talk- ing to someone else. No, the little elf actually seemed to be in earnest. How depressing... "Excuse my impoliteness sir, but why bother? I'm sure I'm not invited, and people generally aren't happy to see me at such occasions. I'm afraid they don't hold much enjoyment for me, either. I believe I should get the same am- ount of pleasure standing out here and freezing to death in the snow." The librarian shrugged his shoulders. "Suit yourself..." He started to walk away again, then suddenly stopped as though struck. Lucas watched list- lessly as the elf turned around, revealing a wry grin on his thin features... "Of course... I'm sure they'll be plenty of women there, Father..." he said with an exaggeratedly casual tone, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "Yes sir, plenty of young, nubile, single women, languishing in drunken stupors above and beyond the call of discriminating taste... just the kind who might..." "Yes, yes, yes, I can see what you're driving at, sir," Lucas interrup- ted. "And to my infinite chagrin and disgust, you have succeeded in baiting your carnal hook, as I have missed too many opportunities to let this one pass by. I was attempting to ignore it in the first place, but now that you've gone and said it, I am left no choice but to attend this dismally social affair." Lucas sighed and trudged up to where the mage stood, and the elf fell into step with him again as they headed toward the noise, which as they rounded the corner was matched by the blazing lights of the house which was its source. Lu- cas stopped in his tracks, momentarily overcome with the thought of the horrors to come within that awful hive of frivolous happiness. ...sage kept going, his stride becoming more and more disgustingly jaunty as he called over his shoul- der to the stagnated priest. "Avaunt, Father Murphy! Your cathedral awaits!" Lucas winced openly, then gave up and followed the drow. "You really are a tiresome fellow, you know..." he called as ...sage reached the household's entrance. But the elf merely smiled at him and ducked inside, vanishing almost instantly in the chaotic jumble of beings within. Lu- cas paused at that same threshold, steeling himself for entry into an alien world that was so anathemic to him his body begged him to turn back before it was too late. But his duty was more important than his own needs, as it always had been, and always would be... "Yea, though I talk and I sally with the shallow and deaf, I will fear no gleeful..." And so saying, Father Lucas Murphy, Priest of Fecunda, squared his thin stooping shoulders, and passed beyond... MagicHutchHeader From: alden@coos.dartmouth.edu (Laurie F. Alden) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [L&S] Party's end! Message-ID: Date: 7 Mar 93 22:51:25 GMT ...sage stood watching Kadrys as Luthor thanked his guests. The Risk game had provided little opportunity to talk and now that the sun was rising, surely the vampire would have to retreat to his rest. He would have to catch him another time, by the look of things, and find out why Kadrys had looked at him as if he had seen a ghost, and maybe unlock the meaning behind the faint stirring in his own darkened past. A bell jangled in the pouch at his belt and reaching into it he pulled out a small note. A note from someone called Jameson Walker, requesting a meeting at the Dragons-Inn, to talk about interdimensional gates. "Hmmm", thought the drow to himself "looks like that's my next stop after arranging something with Kadrys." He then let his sight roam about the mottley assortment of party goers as the rays of the sun slowly warmed the rooftops of the city of Generica. He smiled to himself. "Looks like another long day in the Nexian hub!" The sky was well on its way toward morning. Just outside a house made of living trees, several figures watched the horizon with quiet patience. The inky black of night had been replaced with a deep blue spotted with orange and red, light reflecting off a thousand tiny clouds. Two bottles of wine passed among them. The first was the bottle of wine that the Littlefairs had offered as a housewarming gift. It had come from Specifica of the Spices. The Elven vinyards near that city had an excellent reputation which was confirmed by those who tasted it. It was Luthor's idea to pass the bottle around now. He could think of no more appropriate time. The second bottle was Golden Apple wine from the Anside Orchards of Luthor's clan. It was an ancient bottle, one of a few that were sealed on the day of Luthor's birth. One such bottle had been opened after Luthor became a full ShadowMage. Another at his wedding. The third on the day of his son's birth. This bottle was the fourth. There was one remaining bottle in existance which Luthor gave to Littlefair with instructions, but such matters are not the subject of a party. The group of beings gathered outside the tree/house were of many different types and came from across the mulitverse, yet something had brought them to this place at this time. Who could guess why, the fates were so fickle. Their entire existence may have been to bring them here to see this sunrise over Generica and nothing more. The sun's edge touched the horizon and Luthor bent his head in prayer. Silently, he thanked Lathander for giving him the chance to have a fresh start and asked him to watch over those gathered here. He raised his eyes, feeling for the flow of his prayer out to the nascent sunrise. His sky-blue eyes flicked when he felt the holy thoughts pass through the spirit of the woman beside him, refracted into myriad rainbows of blessing and thanks before leaping out across the uncharted into the heart of morning. Serene glowed beside him, barely touching the wisp of morning fog which hovered near. She sensed his attention and turned to meet his curious eyes. "But Luthor! I am Serene *Uhtsong*..." Finally understanding that he did not recognize the name as a word, she smiled. "I thought you knew. In my native tongue, it means 'Morning Prayer.'" They stared at one another for a moment, then touched their cheeks together where each had shed a quick tear. They parted, yet Luthor held his arm around her, silently expressing his deep affection for her. He looked into the light of the rising sun to marvel at its wonder and then a sudden thought of Kadrys entered his mind. Luthor knew that the sun's light pained Kadrys, and glanced at the vampire as he drew closer, expecting him to take shelter in the unusually large and dark shadow cast by Luthor's cloak. But Kadrys stopped short, still standing in the growing dawn. As a subtle invitation to take refuge in his shade, the half-elf said smilingly, "Kadrys, if I ever run across another ShadowCloak, it is yours." The vampire grinned ruefully at this. "I fear that such a treasure would be wasted on me. I have no talent for even ordinary magery, let alone ShadowMagic." He caught the faint look of concern on Luthor's face as the light continued to grow, and smiled quietly. "Do not worry about me. My rest in your home has given me strength." He half-turned, facing into the sunrise with measured deliberateness, the skin of his face and throat bared to the light. He murmured softly to Luthor: "Beauty and pain cannot always be divorced from each other: many would say that without agony, ecstasy would have no allure. An elf of my acquaintance said it best: 'To breathe the fragrance of the rose, thy hand must grasp its thorns.'" He fell silent, absorbed by the glory of the sunrise, his black eyes full of reflected radiance. Luthor's mood brightened with the day, a result of the dawn, good company, (and perhaps a bit of wine). He stood to address the group with his bottle in hand: "My most excellent friends, I can not express how happy I am that you have all come to the housewarming of Shadehaven. While the sun is still rising, I would like to make a toast: I offer a blessing to you all, may your lives... excuse me... may your EXISTENCES be full, happy, and as long as you wish. Know that you are welcome in our house and should any of you need me, I am at your service. May the sun watch over you in day and the shadows at night." He took a swig from the bottle and passed it on... A tall figure, robed in gold and blue and sunrise colors, accepted the bottle, and murmured a blessing in a clear tenor, neither male nor female. The words were unfamiliar, but their import was clear to all who heard: <> And the priest took a sip, and handed it on to 'Raelf, who took a long swig and handed the full bottle on to the next person, who drank and handed the full bottle on to the next... The bottle was passed along, to those who spoke, to those who merely smiled their blessings. Mista's godfather of the spirit spoke volumes with his silence. Finally it reached Serene. She transferred a drop on her finger to Mista's lips and raised the last taste in the bottle high. Words and thoughts and blessings filled her heart. Their house was now a home, their new chapters beginning. "To Friendship." The sun broke free from the horizon. -- lfa@dartmouth.edu |There's a little bit of dog hair Stat Consultant - Dartmouth College |in everything we do. Chief of Design - JourneyGarb | MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: jpesonen@viikki.Helsinki.FI (JORMA JUHANI PESONEN (EKT)) Subject: Re: [Raoh?][TW?] A gnome in search of excitement Message-ID: Keywords: gems conqueror squirrel copper References: Date: Mon, 8 Mar 1993 12:23:25 GMT In article clay@austin.ibm.com (Clay Colwell) writes: > "Right," Eski said cheerily, setting the heel of the staff down on the floor. >"I would like another mug of this excellent dwarven stout and--what can I get >for you, sir Amachiak? And for you, honored Chikcha?" Just as Eski had asked Amachiak, what he would like to have, delivered Littlefair a small mug of carrot juice and a bowl of nuts for both Amachiak and ChikCha. Eski looked a little puzzled, but soon he realized that these two had been visiting the Inn earlier, and that the bartender knew their requirements. "Oh, nothing, thank you. Err, Actually, I'm looking for some adventurers from the lots of the Big People, for our own folk cannot venture into the mounds of the Drag...The Swamp Monster. Nor the Lizard Things, because they are so much bigger than our humble selves. Would you be interrested in saving our Queen from the hands of the Swamp Monster, which hsa kidnapped our Beloved One?" Amachiak took a sip of the juice and looked Eski, seeking somekind of an answer from the Gnome's face... Amachiak, the leader of the Squiichar JPESONEN@viikki.helsinki.fi /// /// "Is all that we see or seem, There are realities /// But a Dream within a Dream?" Within realities, but /// Edgar Allan Poe THERE ARE NO ABSOLUTES MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: jpesonen@viikki.Helsinki.FI (JORMA JUHANI PESONEN (EKT)) Subject: [L&S][ST][Shadow]And others, too. A strange revelation... Message-ID: Keywords: Killing, Nobility, drunkard, blood, hearts... Date: Mon, 8 Mar 1993 12:57:08 GMT The sun was coming out, as people started to return to their homes from the party of Luthor and Selene. There was a kind of tired merriment in the air, friends calling to others, new acquaintances making promises to stay in touch and those, who were silent because of their exhaustion. "EEEEeeekk!!!!" "What was that!?" "Where did it come from?!" "Who screamed?" Suddenly the confusion spread among the people like an unwanted disease. Fighters were seeking for targets, spellcasters made their spells to see the cause of this confusion, thus creating more unrest among the normal people and these normal ones, not adventurers nor travellers of strange aeons, ran here and there, seeking for shelter, a cover, a safe haven to calm themselves. "Help... Henrik wasss killed by-by-by...taht..bloody... Noblebeing with hiss Noble d-d-dr-dress on. Not a drop of blood styed on... on... hiss hands...Toree hiss hea-heart out... Slip! Jusst likhe that..." This babbling was heard from a nearby alley, and the bravest of the fighters began to advance towards the sound. It sounded as a speech of some old drunkard, still in heavy booze, trying to make sense to someone about something weird. And that it was. There was an old drunkard in the alley, and he was holding somebody with both his arms. In the poor light of the alley it was impossible to say, wether it was a thing or a human he held, but it was limp, nevertheless. "Let go, mister, and come into the light", shouted someone. The drunkard turned to face the group advancing towards him. It took him a bit of time to realize, that they were real, but when he did, he dropped the limp sack of a human and rushed towards the group. "STOP!!" The man didn't notice this shout and plunged himself to the feet of the first one. "Pleashe, help me..." Then he was gone, as some, not so good witted sliced him in two. The hell broke loose. There were accusations, threats and promises. The uncoscious person was some young lady from the streets of the red lights, whom this drunkard had grapped while she was returning from a client. She couldn't tell anything about the mans ramblings. Neither could anyone else. But after a few hours, the guard could tell, that a drunkard and beggar called Henrik had been found at an alley near the Market Square with his heart torn out of his chest and that no blood was found at the scene. The death was a mystery to the Guard... **************************************************************************** //So, we must a group have, and we must this place secure.// **************************************************************************** JPESONEN@viikki.helsinki.fi /// /// "Is all that we see or seem, There are realities /// But a Dream within a Dream?" Within realities, but /// Edgar Allan Poe THERE ARE NO ABSOLUTES MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] Entry to Generica Date: Mon, 08 Mar 93 14:26:50 CST Message-ID: <16B8BCB2A.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu> THREAD: AU (Andrea and Unicorn) Commenced by Chris Meadows The rough-clothed sailor raised the axe high over the chopping block where the young unicorn's head was tied down. The evil glint in the sailor's eye perfectly matched the glint of sunlight from the axe as it reached its zenith. From where she was being held, Andrea had a perfect view of what was about to happen to her companion. She was in the grip of another sailor, a heavily-muscled thug who was shackling her arms to the wall. He'd already clasped the heavy metal collar around her left arm, but she managed to get her right hand free. She tensed her wrist, and felt the dagger drop right into her hand. Wasting no time, she stuck it into the thug's neck. He went down with a gurgle of blood and she pulled it out again, then threw it. It stuck right into the leg of the man with the axe, causing him to stumble to one side and sink the axe not into the unicorn's horn but into the deckplates instead. "You bi--aaaugh!" the groaned, pulling the small dagger out of his leg. Andrea didn't notice; she had removed another dagger from a secret sheath inside her tunic. She pressed a stud on the hilt of this dagger and a lockpick sprung out. With this she picked the lock of the shackle around her left wrist, jerking it free just as the sailor came running at her, swinging the axe. She dropped to the floor as the blade went whistling by to embed itself a good six inches into the wooden wall. As the man grunted, trying to jerk it free, she used the dagger of resource to slit his neck from ear to ear. Andrea ran to the chopping block and slit the ropes holding the unicorn to the chopping block, grabbing her shortsword and other gear along the way. She picked up the bloody dagger from the deck, wiped it on the sailor's pants, and returned it to the wrist sheath, then did the same for the dagger of resource. "All right, Sheryl...let's look for a way out of here," Andrea said. The unicorn nodded, and Andrea looked around. They had just come into port this day, which was extremely fortunate for them. If the ship had been at sea, they would have had no alternative but to take to a lifeboat, and Andrea had no knowledge of navigation. "The docks. Hurry!" Andrea ran for the off-ramp followed closely by Sheryl, the young unicorn's feet making a rhythmic hollow clop-clop sound on the wooden deck. Behind them, Andrea could hear the outcry being raised by men discovering the two sailors' bodies. She swore softly; just a few minutes more, PLEASE!!! Then she would be safely hidden among the crates and boxes that were piled all around awaiting loading onto various ships. But if they found her now, it would mean a fight. "Hey! There she is!" Andrea winced, unslinging and cocking her light crossbow. It looked like she would have to make a fight of it after all. She turned, to see four or five burly men pouring down the ramp behind her. She steadied the crossbow, sighted carefully, and fired, impaling the first man through the neck. Then she threw the weapon at the second man and ran, her equine companion following closely at her heels. A dagger flew past Andrea, THONKing into the side of a crate with a crudely-drawn fish on the side. "Why, thank you, that's an excellent idea!" she said, pulling the dagger out then pulling the crate down to smash on the floor. She pocketed the knife and continued running. Behind her, there were startled shouts and crashes as the remaining pursuers slipped on the fish that now lay all across the ground. Andrea didn't look back, though she would later imagine what it must have looked like with a slight chuckle. She was too busy getting herself and her friend to safety. After running for a time (she didn't know how long), she found herself standing, nearly out of breath, in front of the door to a pub. The sign read "Dragon's Inn". "I could use a drink," she sighed. "Come on, Sheryl. Maybe they'll have something fit for a young unicorn to drink." She opened the door, and they stepped inside. As they entered, a lot of people looked up, then most of them shrugged and went back to their drinks. Only a few continued gazing at the odd twosome, and it was these that Andrea reminded herself to keep an eye on. "Hey, Sheryl, is it my imagination or does this pub have more than its share of corners, and don't most of them have dark-robed, shadowy figures in them?" Sheryl did the unicornish equivalent of a shrug. Sheryl selected a seat at one of the empty corners and waved to the barkeep to bring her an ale, and a pan of milk for Sheryl if he had any. When the ale arrived she sipped at it and looked around pensively. Those who were looking at Andrea at the moment saw a dark woman clad in dark clothes. Dark breeches, dark tunic, dark leather armor. Her black hair fell to about the middle of her back, and her dark brown eyes peered over the rim of her glass as she took in the sights and sounds of the rest of the pub. Her body was well-sculptured, though not to the point where one might vulgarly call her "stacked." She had an air of quiet competence about her, yet also something of despair. An uncanny contradiction, yet also an interesting one. ADMIN: I'm rather new here, but I've been reading a lot of messages; I pride myself on being a fanfic type author, so I figured I might as well try my hand at this. I'm still patting myself on the back for the pun in this thread name (AU=Andrea and Unicorn; AU=gold). Heh. :) If you want to add to this thread, please contact me via email. Thanks. -- Chris Meadows || Johnny was a chemist's clerk CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || But Johnny is no more CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || For what he thought was H2O CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || Was H2SO4 MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu (christopher motherway) Subject: Preparations Message-ID: <9RX4ZB3w165w@cybernet.cse.fau.edu> Date: Mon, 8 Mar 1993 19:10:31 GMT Lance Wolf decided to walk South to the Arcade of Unforgotten Heroes. He looked at all of the monuments of the greats of Generica, and, inside, he could not help but feel a little frightened. When Baff had run into the Inn that night, almost a week ago, screaming about Raoh the Conqueror, his heart skipped several times. Now, he wonders why he even agreed to himself to go against Raoh. True, he was an adventurer; he had been for almost two years now, since leaving Wolverton. When an opportunity to do good arrives, he jumps right at it. That was his style. Meeting Blaze did not change him; in fact, Blaze all but _encouraged_ him to seek injustice out and set things right. The only problem was, basically, he had never faced another man before. At least not since Tangramayne; perhaps the poison-wolf scar turned him from battling humans. But Raoh...Raoh was something else. He did not tell the patrons at the Inn that night, nor did he mention it in his bulletin, but that wandering bard was not the ONLY time he had heard of Raoh. Once, about a month before Blaze found him, he was walking through a beautiful wood (he had forgotten its name and location), admiring the oaks, elms and other greenery around. For the first time in a good while, he was at peace. Suddenly, the wind kicked up. Actually, 'kicked up' is an understatement; it went from a cool breeze to a rabid hurricane in a matter of moments. Lance had just enough time to find a small burrow in the ground to duck into. The windstorm held for about ten seconds, and then disappeared as quickly as it came. Lance peeked up from the burrow. At first, all he could see was a hand help up, almost as if its owner was offering peace. Lance lifted his head a little more and found a huge man on a black horse, his crimson cape flapping in the wind's aftershocks. The man then turned his bac to Lance and, in a deep tone, said, "Hear me! This is but a SAMPLE of what my power can do. Resist me further, and your fair city, and all its inhabitants, will be DESTROYED!!" Lance then her an extremely loud CRRRRACK! He ventured to lift his head more. It was there he spotted Ugyar, lashing his whips feverishly at the screaming crowd of people. Ugyar's head was at level with Raoh's...but Raoh was on horseback! Lance saw enough; he ducked back down until the two were gone. Thinking back, Lance wonders why he did not pursue Raoh. Then he thought of when he finally stood up in that forest...to find that the forest was no more; EVERY tree was uprooted, every plant stripped of its leaves. The sun was beginning to set. He suddenly remebers that Blaze want him to meet a 'mentalist' (whatever that is) who wanted to join. He started back to the Inn. But, before he left, he turned back to the Arcade, looked at the monuments, a murmured, "I pray I do not stand with you soon." With that, he turned towards the Inn. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu (christopher motherway) Subject: LAST CALL FOR CONFIRMATIONS Message-ID: Date: Mon, 8 Mar 1993 20:56:33 GMT I am accepting no further new applicants for the quest for Raoh. However, to those I have E-mailed with a message starting "Welcome aboard" PLEASE E-mail me back by Wednesday (3-10), because ONLY those confirmed will get 'mission summaries' and will be, officially, in the quest. E-mail to wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu by 2:30pm EST on Wednesday. (The reason is I misplaced the list of those I have E-mailed back to.) Chris Wolvie ----------------------------------- "The only GOOD dragon is......a GOLDEN dragon," -Eric the Cavalier, DUNGEONS & DRAGONS MagicHutchHeader From: flinx@stein2.u.washington.edu (Brian Gray) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Pantora] Raoh Date: 8 Mar 1993 23:42:05 GMT Message-ID: <1nglkdINNs06@shelley.u.washington.edu> Sitting silently at the bar, as he always sat, quietly eating his meal, Pantora felt a familiar stirring in the depths of his mind. Sincerely, he hoped that the feeling did not preclude another of his...times. Sometimes, that subconscious irritation went away, leaving him alone with his silence. Other times, it sent him into spasms coming from the energies riding his mind. At least the damn thing had the decency to warn him, he felt. He waited, still slowly eating the meat stew, his mind carefully empty, neither broadcasting orreceiving. Often, in places like this, he drew within his own mind, to attempt to cut himself off from the hubbub of people's stray wisps of thought or of emotion which wafted to him on the etheric breezes. Truly, he preferred being away from cities, out in the countryside, where the only living things around were either immobile or animal. He'd always served well as a scout, at those times. Alas, one could only find work in the cities, whether it was paid or not. Working as a mercenary, he could almost always define his line of employ--out before the vanguard, charting routes and natural ways. Or as a mesenger, ferrying swiftly back and forth between groups, and not really having to come close to anyone at all. Of course, he didn't always get the postings he desired, and sometimes was placed as a usual man in the ranks. Pantora had certainly seen his share of combat, taht was for certain. The tickling at the back of his mind hadn't gone away. Mentally cursing his parents, those undoubterdly strange people he had never known, he looked around the inn for an isolated booth. Seeing one, he carefully picked up his grub and mug, leaving the cost of the fare behind on the counter, and made his way to the booth. Setting his food down lightly, he slid in, and closed his eyes for a moment. Yes, this would require his blinds. From a pocket, he pulled a strip of cloth, and two small lumps of wax. He made a blindofld from one, and warmed the beeswax until he could comfortably place them in his ears. Then, with a few mental pushes, he installed his guards again, making sure he would be undisturbed, at least for the duration of his spell. As one last preparation, he shut his mental pathways down to the outside, wishing for total privacy. Then, it came upon Pantora: a dark man, apparently regal upon his tall horse (almost twenty hands, he guessed). Staring right at Pantora, even though he knew that was part of the illusion. Suddenly, a colossal storm cloud broke behind the nameless figure, illuminating the ground surrounding him. Barren. Lifeless. At the feet of the horse, Pantora saw several bodies, including his own. This did not disturb him, he'd foreseen his own death many times, all of which came to naught. It had passed. Gasping for breath, he raised his hands to his face, and took his blinds off. The time was long ago that his hands shook after one of these infrequent visions. No longer, as Pantora had adjusted to their strangeness with time. For a full minute he rested a little longer, and then reopened his mental channels. Looking around him, nothing seemed amiss, and so his shields had held. Lastly, he relaxed his wards, just as easily as he had established them, and then returned to his meal. Pantora wondered when he would meet this most recent figure of his mind. Mayhaps this was related to that offer which had caught his eye earlier. He could not tell. MagicHutchHeader From: starride@maico.ksu.ksu.edu (David Chase) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Kal & Co] Moving along. Date: 8 Mar 1993 19:06:13 -0600 Message-ID: <1ngqi5INN3jt@maico.ksu.ksu.edu> Scott continued to ride up to the wagon. The faces of the men looked puzzled from the horse stopping, and the one with the reins was trying to get the horse going again. Scott called out to the group, "It is I, Scott Gillig. I have rejoined you as agreed." As Scott approached he explained about the horse. "The horse you have is trained by me and is one of mine. I did not sell it to you to later steal it. I have instead brought a good draft horse to trade you back my horse for this one and I have also some extra equipment that some of you had requested." Seeing that the group was wanting to move on Scott spoke up, "I left by the south gate and told the guard there that I was heading toward the Specifica of Sugars as I know that who ever it is that follows you would try and follow me to you. Dont worry, I covered my tracks well. It will take some time for those who follow to catch us. " Later as the group headed down the road Scott told them about the orcs that waited in ambush. After which they all agreed to be more carefull. MagicHutchHeader From: mkicklig@dante.nmsu.edu (KICKLIGHTER) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: response Date: 9 Mar 1993 03:00:08 GMT Message-ID: <1nh17oINN4bi@dns1.NMSU.Edu> MagicHutchHeader From: z_falkrg@ccsvax.sfasu.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: K&J The story continues (new thread) Message-ID: <1993Mar9.004109.3403@ccsvax.sfasu.edu> Date: 9 Mar 93 00:41:09 CST Killian shuddered at what his brother had done to him. Remembering each face of those terrified sailors he had killed while being controlled by his brother, Killian steeled himself for the road ahead, and strode forward. (* many months pass *) does he ever think us Jen ???? The bard awoke hung over in some town he didn't even know the name of. Typical. He hauled himself off of the bed he had passed out in last night . . at least, he thought it was last night, and paused to look at the polished metal mirror. His once bright red hair was tangled, disheveled, and filthy. He looked like he hadn't shaved in a week, and he stunk. "Gods! Even a human could smell me from twenty paces!", he said with disgust. Killian pulled a tunic over his body and grabbed various bits of equipment he needed to bathe. He stumbled out of the inn where he was staying and down to the river that ran close to the town. Being fairly far north, the river was quite cold, but Killian decided that is what he needed to get his head straight again. The tall man stripped and layed his tunic on the shore, braced himself and walked in slowly. Each step was chilling, but he eventually managed to get all the way in. As he splashed around in the icy river, he paused to think of what had happend to him since he left the group he found in the Dragon's Inn. Tarsis had been very quiet after his inital assault on Killian. In fact, he hadn't seen or heard anything of his magus brother since the Argus. Killian had decided to go to his homeland to find out what the clan knew about Tarsis, but this was a slim hope as Tarsis had been exiled from the clan because of his black practices. He wondered if he did the right thing in telling his father about Tarsis. Killian shuddered as he rememberd the spell that was being cast that day he peeked into his brothers workroom. "I had no choice, brother. You left me none.", Killian said to nobody in particular. He was only about a week's travel on foot before he reached his clan. "Maybe father can help me on what I should do.", he thought. His thoughts then wandered to his adventuring companions that he left back on the ship so many months ago. The strange character Shade, the centaur Helios, and most of all, the fair Jenever. A faint smile crossed his lips as he remembered when they first met. Back in a shady inn that had an impossible number of corners for one building. He laid back in the water and floated on his back as he lovingly recalled the scent of her hair and the grace with which she danced as music and mead flowed over them both like a warm river. There was a snap of a twig and Killian was at immediate readyness. Killian realized it was probably some two-bit thief trying to get a few loose coins from his bundle on the shore, but Killian decided to teach him a lesson this day. The movement came closer as Killian changed. Bones and muscles stretch and reshape, bright orange and black fur that matches his hair sprouted from all over his body. The delicate hands that could pull gold from a harp shortened and claws extended from the tips. Once where a man once swam, a tiger now crouched . . . waiting. In his tiger shape, Killian could easily determine where the visitor was coming from. He sniffed the air and wondered for a moment. The scent was very familiar, but he could not remember where he had smelled it before. What? shook his head and tensed for a spring as the intruder was about to come into sight. The reeds parted and Killian sprung, putting the fury of his passion into a deafining roar. He intentionally landed short of his prey for he was not in the mood for a kill, he just wanted to scare the man. The tiger looked up at the intruder and all the anger droped like a sack of grain. "My! Aren't we fierce today, Kitty-Kat," she scorned, and threw her arms around the furry neck. "You stink!" she cried and wrestled the furry mass back to the waters edge. Shifting back to his human form, Killian held his lover close and gave her a deep and passionate kiss. After much scrubbing and even more frolicking, Jenever began berating her lover for abandoning her at the ship, to which he replied... "Mi'lady, at the time I felt I had no choice," Killian responded, looking rather sheepishly down into the water. "I feared Tarsis might strike again at me through the people around me. Understand me . . . the last thing in the world I want to do is hurt you. I have yet to meet any human as open-minded as yourself, and although leaving you hurt deeply, the thought of you coming to harm because of me hurt even more." Killian's emerald green eyes peered down into her deep violet ones for a moment and he embraced the warrior maiden, holding her closely for what seemed like an eternity. Daddy, I think I need to be rude and tell him that she's having twins in about 4 months? MagicHutchHeader From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Sorc] Timestreams Message-ID: Date: 9 Mar 93 12:50:58 GMT The vampire elf took his last look at the device, and said the special word that would throw him into various realities at once, through timestreams unknown to him. A teardrop of blood red colour trickled down his face. Everything became very hazy suddenly, and colours began to swirl in and out of his mind. He was here, there and everywhere, yet nowhere. The images became clearer, and his eyes focused. There were long lines, as thick as trees or even larger. They stretched off into infinity on either side of him. Silken was floating aimlessly in this peaceful continuum, but he could hear nothing around him. He recalled what 'Raelf had said about the red and Blue strands, and avoiding the red. But there were so many, Blacks, greens, yellows, whites, oranges. They were a beauty to behold. Each one had a small blue-white corona creating a blend of lights. Silken smiled. He had never seen anything that looked qquite so beautiful, or entrancing. It was awe inspiring. He searched for the blue line. There it was! But it was so small, and it wound around the Red line, which was enormous. Silken manouvered himself my using his thoughts to find the way. It wwas like gliding. He swiftly moved over, to see the junction of the blue and red lines. One of these must become the proper timeline, and it was necessary to arrive at the junction in order to cause events to swing the right way. He was amazed at the diffrence in size between Red and Blue. Then the device moved him towards the Red Line. "No, Blue, back!" It was not responding to his signals. He tried through sheer force of will to pull it back, and it held for a few vital seconds before suddenly, a flash of lightning struck him, shattering the device into a thousand little bits. "So it's not indestructible after all!" Another Bolt of Lightning struck hhim, this time grabbing him and pulling him down towards the red line. He fought, but the Lightning burned him. At this, his Vampiric nature reared it's head. The Beast was loose and Frenzied. It was manically turning his mind upside down, seeking to escape it's cage while Silken fought to retain control. The Red LIne!! No!! The Lightning drew him in, and he entered the timestream. Too late. Too late. -- 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 MagicHutchHeader From: hilanse@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Where's Wonko: Message-ID: <1993Mar8.100703.6242@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 8 Mar 93 10:07:03 CST The cow walked into the Inn nonchalantly, ambling up to the bar. She smiled at Littlefair and waved an ear at him, he grinned and returned the wave. She was having a wonderful day, the sun was shining, the grass was especially tasty today, and Farmer Joe Bob Billy Ray had just milked her. She walked over to the window and looked out into the street. The people walking past seemed to be in the same mood for the most part, happy and free for the time being. She sat down in the corner and chewed thoughtfully on her cud for a moment. She thought about daisies and bluebirds and cute furry rodents. She let her mind wander through grass covered praerie and tree-filled forests. She stood up again, nodding to Littlefair, still lost in her thoughts. She exited the Inn, walking out of the city and into a small field and lay down in the grass in the shade of a huge tree. It was so wonderful to be alive, even though....even though... her thoughts screeched to a halt, and everything went blank. The beast raised its head from its hiding place in the grass. It looked over the tops of the wheatlike plants. It carefully picked its way forward in the field and reentered the city stealthily, hardly noticed by the townsfolk. The beast entered an alley and stood in the shadow, the wretched sunlight was a curse for it. It could wait for awhile. As night fell on the city, the beast's instincts told it that now was the time to feed. It leapt upon a passerby and dragged him, struggling into the alley, unnoticed. It fed and fed until it was sated from the flesh and blood and ..and.... Bossie awoke in Farmer Joe Bob Billy Ray's pond, soaking wet and shivering. She had had an awful time trying to sleep. It was a shame, yesterday had been so beautiful. MORE ADVENTURES OF BOSSIE THE VAMPIRE NONVEGETARIAN SCHIZOPHRENIC COW TO COME! (C)1993 Sprained Brain Publishing --How can a cow be carnivorous? ---Who knows? Maybe this guy who writes the stuff really is mentally ill. MagicHutchHeader MagicHutchHeader From: hilanse@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Wonko: You're A Vegetarian, Too? Message-ID: <1993Mar8.212957.6267@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 8 Mar 93 21:29:57 CST After dressing the wound on her forehead and covering her with a blanket, Wonko stop thinking deep thoughts and began to concentrate on the task at hand, he was hungry and, if he was correct, she would be, too. Wonko built a fire and set up his cooking apparatus, a pot suspended over the fire on a tripod of bars of iron. He poured it full of water and waited for it to boil. He had just tossed the egg noodles into the pot when he heard her stir. Wonko walked to the cot and sat down beside her, ready for any violence that might ensue. She opened her eyes and looked at him quizzically. "Who are you?",she asked,"What are you doing?, Where am I?" Argh, he thought, not amnesia. "I'm Wonko, and you are in my camp, and I am about to feed you dinner.", he said. She closed her eyes again, "Wonko...", quietly, "Wonko...". "Yes, I'm Wonko, and you are Athorbalo.", he hated the effects of amnesia. "WONKO!", she struggled and tried to get off of the cot, her hands grasping at her belt for lost weapons. Wonko sat on her stomach, knocking the breath out of her, then sat down on the edge of the cot again,"I'm sorry, I didn't want to do that." She coughed violently, gasping for air, "Ruh-ruhlease me. {hack hack koff koff}" "Why do you persist in trying to hurt someone who only wants to help you?", he asked. "Help me?", she almost yelled, "The only helping you've done is to put me under the suspicion of my associates, and jeopardize my life!" Wonko thought about this for a moment when he heard the pot boiling and the hiss of the fire as the water bubbled over. She was still doubled over in the bed, he poured a plastic bag of egg noodles into the pot, dumping dried milk, butter, and seasoning, he covered it and returned to her side where she had recovered enough to sit up. "I didn't realize that I had jeopardized anything, I just wanted to tell you that a Rakshasa isn't exactly the sort of associate you want to be making deals with. They're demons, and even though you can work out deals to your advantage with them occasionally, they almost always return to retrieve their net loss, your soul.", Wonko smiled at her hopefully. She scowled, "I can handle myself, and Rakshasas for that matter." "Ahh, then you've dealt with vengeful ancient Indian spirits before, I see.", he replied sarcastically. She looked confused for a second and then bared her teeth, "Why are you keeping me here?" "Because I'm going to feed you, then I'm going to let you go, you were hurt from the explosion, so I brought you here to recover.", he smiled. Wonko stood and walked to the pot again, looking into it and stirring. "Do you like stroganoff?", he asked her. She looked back at him, dumbfounded, then regained her composure, "Not if you've already put meat into it." "My dear lady, I hadn't even begun to think about murdering one of our furry friends, chopping her up and cooking her until she was medium well, then dumping her remains into our dinner," Wonko grinned, tipping his hat, "You must think me a barbarian." This earned an almost grin from her. Wonko dumped the noodles into a large bowl and retrieved two forks from his pack, setting it in front of her. "Care for dinner?", he asked. She smiled this time, "I didn't know you were a vegetarian..." Wonko thought that maybe it wasn't such a bad evening after all. 101 Uses For A Displaced Viking (C)1993 Rover There Publishing --Doesn't a contradiction in your belief mean that it is wrong? ---It would if I trusted myself. Since I don't I can hold many beliefs at once, all contradictory, and still be faithful to my religion. --Don't most religions require that you trust your judgement? ---If I did that, then how could I trust anyone else? MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: jcarl@jabba.ess.harris.com (Darvos Metnar) Subject: [Party] Arienne, Darvos, and Lancos meet Message-ID: Date: Tue, 9 Mar 1993 14:47:22 GMT [Thanks to Mike Sander and Jill Thomas for their contribution and use of their characters] >"Could I get something for you drink my lady?" "Why yes you could, a sweet wine would be nice. I like sweet" Arienne said as she stared alluringly into the middle aged man's eyes. `This is too easy' she thought. Darvos was pleased with the attention the woman was show him and as he started to move off to get the beautiful lady a drink, she said "Who's your friend here?" Actually, Arienne knew very well about Lancos, but she wanted to get the ranger's attention: he seemed distracted. And so Lancos was. In addition to the normal thoughts clustering his brain, he was busy watching some unwanted guests get tossed out in unusual manners. Lancos couldn't help but find it a bit amusing. 'Heh.' Lancos thought to himself. 'And people wonder why I don't claim to be a ranger...' Darvos was a little flustered and looked at the man she was indicating. It was the ranger fellow he had been talking to just a moment ago. The beauty of this woman was intoxicating and he couldn't remember the man's name. Darvos stopped and collected his thoughts. To the others it looked as if he were about to introduce the man and was searching for a proper introduction. Darvos smiled as the rangers name came back to him. "May I introduce Lancos Erredan" he said with a slight bow. The rolling of Darvos' "r"s made the rangers name sound very foreign. "Lancos, I'd like you to meet ... " That's when Darvos realized he didn't know the beautiful womans name. The mention of his own name brought Lancos to the events at hand. For the first time he got a full look at the person Darvos was talking to. From the description he had received from others, and from the way she seemed to be carrying on right now, there was only one person it _could_ be. So, Lancos spoke up before the Darvos' mistake was even noticed. "That's all right Darvos, we already know each other. Don't we Arienne?" Darvos felt like a cad, he had missed the signals being sent by the lady. They were intended for the much younger and better looking Lancos. Feeling a little uncomfortable at the way the two of them stared at each other, Darvos spoke up softly "I can see you have a lot of catching up to do. Perhaps we will met some other time?" Darvos excused himself and headed for the door. *** The long walk home was a lonely one for Darvos as he remembered what it was like to be young and in love again. Before he could dwell on the past, he was at his home. It was a medium sized mansion just east of the great library. He had acquired it about 12 years ago when he had first come to Generica. When his fathers Barony was captured 25 years ago, he had been able to recover some of the wealth hidden away for emergencies. What was left of his wealth was going towards magical research now. Darvos was well on his way to become a sage of great knowledge. He stepped up to the door and could feel the wards hum their warning to those that could feel the magic. He waved his hand in front of the door and uttered some strange words that could never be understood by someone listening. The throb of the warding changed pitch and allowed Darvos to open the door. Once inside, the power of the wards was practically nothing, it was meant to keep things out not in. He went upstairs to check on the little girl Lissa that he had rescued from a vampire recently. She had been bitten and drained severely but Darvos had showed up in time to scare the foul beast off, if it hadn't been so sated, it might of put up more of a fight. The vampire had once been of elven lineage too, which was all the more heinous. She was asleep in the four poster bed of the room he had set aside for her while she recovered. For the past week she had recovered enough that she could get out of bed and fed herself. The magical servants Darvos had put in place in the room took good care of her while he worked on his studies. Darvos had asked if she had any family he should contact to let them know she was okay, but she had said she had no one. That tugged at Darvos' heart because he too knew what it was like to have no one. So he was doing the best he could to take care of her. At first Darvos was more interested in making sure she didn't die and return as a vampire, slaved to the foul elven beast, but now he was growing fond of the 14 year olds smile. She was going to be an attractive young lady when she grew up. Perhaps I could give her a better life? She could be raised as a proper young lady and be given an education and, ... I would like the company. Darvos closed the door with that thought and headed off to bed. *** Lissa rolled over in bed and watched the door shut behind Darvos. She had never been happier in all her life. She hadn't know where she was when she had first awoke, the last thing she remembered had been humming a lullaby on her street corner at night, she had just finished her nightly scrounging for food and was ready to settle down for the night in her hide out. She had thought she was dreaming when she first awoke, especially when the invisible servants had brought her food and drink. But the questions that Darvos had asked made her think she was in a nightmare instead. She had been bitten by a vampire, she still had the wounds on her neck to prove it. Darvos had said she should stay here for at least 2 months to make sure she was safe from a second attack, which was fine with her. This place was hundreds of times better than her hide out in the low city. Wait to the others got a look at her now. She smiled at that thought, rolled over and went back to sleep. -- Joe Carl Jr. "It ain't what a man don't know that makes him a jcarl@jabba.ess.harris.com fool, but what he does know that ain't so." -- Josh Billings MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: bdavis@pepper.cray.com (Brent Davis {x67000 CF/ENG}) Subject: [Kal & Co] Words, Weapons & Water Message-ID: <1993Mar9.100809.15937@walter.cray.com> Date: 9 Mar 93 10:08:08 CST E'Karam's words had a devastating impact on Kalendraf. The creature's insight and wisdom struck home in words of warning about accepting gifts from strangers. It was absolutely true. Kal would likely still be back home on his throne in Southport if he hadn't offered to wind that horn for the Tritons. And it's likely that these other people in the wagon wouldn't be on the run with him. Putting companions in jeopardy was one of the parts of adventuring that he truly loathed. Perhaps that's why he had given it up and accepted the rulership of Uncis Isle. As he looked back at E'Karam, he now realized he should be thankful to have the mischievous creature on his side. It's childish behavior was obviously just a cover for a much more cunning wit. Kal was sorry that he had misjudged E'Karam. Suddenly, the horse came to a halt. Denner hollered at the animal to keep moving, but could not persuade the beast to continue. 'Something's wrong', Kal thought to himself, and he quickly surveyed surrounding landscape. Finally, a single rider emerged from the trees. Scott Gillig, the man who they had borrowed the horse from in their escape from Generica, rode forth on a draft horse. Even without speaking, his intention to swap the animals was apparent. As they exited the wagon to harness the new horse, Scott told his story of the ambushing orcs. Kalendraf sorted through the supplies that Scott had managed to obtain on such short notice. Among them were a few items that Kal had requested. He picked up one of the weapons, a sword, and tested it. While he had seen and used better, it was still a fair blade. Although he didn't intend to show off, Kalendraf may have appeared to do so as he practiced a few swings with the sword. He was happy he had kept up his training. It was one of the few forms of exercise he had time for while he was ruling over the Island. After sheathing the weapon, he took a dagger and placed in his belt. Now he felt a little more secure. After a few minutes, they resumed their drive toward the wizard Ivy's keep. Still those warning words came back to Kalendraf. 'What of the Hag, and her gift?' As he felt the necklace on his neck, he thought about its abilities. If the hag was telling the truth, then it would prevent his blackouts, and the group had already discovered that its magic allowed them to speak to one another. 'What were it's dangers? Was it worth removing it to prevent some unknown curse from manifesting. Perhaps it was already too late for that.' After riding in the wagon for a while longer, Kalendraf began to feel extremely thirsty, but he didn't blackout. The witch's words must have been true, which meant some of the other things she said probably were as well. Without much warning, Kalendraf jumped over the side of the wagon, and rushed back down the path. Denner brought the cart to an abrupt stop, and Scott turned his horse around to pursue him. He finally caught up, but not before Kal arrived at his destination. He slid down a frozen ditch, landing in a small running section of a stream. Quickly, he forced both of his arms and a portion of his chest into the icy waters, and held them there for a few minutes. Eventually, he lifted them up and turned around to face the others who had followed. His arms and chest were completely dry, and behind him the lowered level of the stream began rising to refill the absorbed water. "I had to know. It appears the witch spoke the truth as far as providing the horn with the water it seeks. Would there happen to be an empty barrel we can fill? I have a feeling I'm going to have to do this again from time to time." -- / bdavis@cray.com | T | Given that 6 x 9 = 42, \ ( Cray Research, Inc. | 3 | then the Universe must ) \ Chippewa Falls, WI | D | be a base 13 function. / MagicHutchHeader From: v124jw4y@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu (Benjamin R Pierce) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Ga] Hawksholme... Message-ID: Date: 9 Mar 93 19:52:00 GMT [ADMIN: Sorry this is rushed, and that I didn't mail it out first, but it's midterm time here and I'm kinda short on time...] Mist. Gray mist. That was all Zebron could see around him. How long had he been here? It could have been a moment, or it could have been eternity; time had no place in the gray mist. Then, the mist began to clear... Glancing around, Zebron realized that he was in a cave of some sort. It looked natural, but was furnished in such a way as to make it evident that this was someone's home. An old, wizened human was standing nearby, his head bald and covered with elaborate tattoos. He appeared to have just completed a spell of some sort, and was looking straight at Zebron and the rest of the party (who Zebron now noticed around him, in precisely the same positions they had been in in the clearing). Behind the old mage was... Garriot! Lying on a stone bier, with elaborate runes traces in shimmering silver around him, Garriot appeared to be in a trance of some sort. A shimmering magical aura around him told even the least knowledgable of magic in the party that some powerful enchantment was at work here. The old man nodded to them and spoke: "Greetings," he said, in a surprisingly strong baritone voice, "I am Jaru." MagicHutchHeader From: starride@magna.ksu.ksu.edu (David Chase) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Kal & Co] Words, Weapons & Water [Corrected version] Date: 9 Mar 1993 16:53:48 -0600 Message-ID: <1nj75tINNdi1@magna.ksu.ksu.edu> References: <1993Mar9.100809.15937@walter.cray.com> E'Karam's words had a devastating impact on Kalendraf. The creature's insight and wisdom struck home in words of warning about accepting gifts from strangers. It was absolutely true. Kal would likely still be back home on his throne in Southport if he hadn't offered to wind that horn for the Tritons. And it's likely that these other people in the wagon wouldn't be on the run with him. Putting companions in jeopardy was one of the parts of adventuring that he truly loathed. Perhaps that's why he had given it up and accepted the rulership of Uncis Isle. As he looked back at E'Karam, he now realized he should be thankful to have the mischievous creature on his side. It's childish behavior was obviously just a cover for a much more cunning wit. Kal was sorry that he had misjudged E'Karam. Suddenly, the horse came to a halt. Denner hollered at the animal to keep moving, but could not persuade the beast to continue. 'Something's wrong', Kal thought to himself, and he quickly surveyed surrounding landscape. Finally, a single rider emerged from the trees, with three horses following behind. Scott Gillig, the man who they had bought the horse from before their escape from Generica, rode forth on a war horse. Even without speaking it was apparent that he intended to swap a large draft horse for the one that pulled the wagon. As they exchanged horses, Scott told his story of the ambushing orcs back at where they had stopped. Scott also warned everyone to be more careful. Kalendraf looked over the supplies that Scott had brought, wonder how he had obtain them on such short notice. Among them were some of the items that Kal had requested. Kal pulled a sword out and tested it. While he had seen and used better, it was still a good blade. Although he didn't intend to show off, Kalendraf may have appeared to do so as he practiced a few swings with the sword. He was happy he had kept up his training. It was one of the few forms of exercise he had time for while he was ruling over the Island. After sheathing the weapon, he took a dagger and placed in his belt. Now he felt a little more secure. Looking at the group Scott approached Kal for a few words. "Ill let you have use of the weapons for now. But if you intend on keeping them that will be 50 gold." Scott smiled, "I am a mercenary after all." Scott went over to the pack horse and pulled to bundles from the harness. Grining broadly, Scott tossed one at Kevin and the other at Kal. "Here you two might have some need for these. Kevin untied the bundle and found a strange suit of clothing made of leathers. While Kal cautiously untied the bundle at his feet he found a suit of chain mail; shirt, pants, mittens and coif. The group looked at Scott. "I have many talents, weaponsmith and armouror are just a few. Now let us put some more distance between us and Generica." After a few minutes, they resumed their drive toward the wizard Ivy's keep. Still those warning words came back to Kalendraf. 'What of the Hag, and her gift?' As he felt the necklace on his neck, he thought about its abilities. If the hag was telling the truth, then it would prevent his blackouts, and the group had already discovered that its magic allowed them to speak to one another. 'What were it's dangers? Was it worth removing it to prevent some unknown curse from manifesting. Perhaps it was already too late for that.' After riding in the wagon for a while longer, Kalendraf began to feel extremely thirsty, but he didn't blackout. The witch's words must have been true, which meant some of the other things she said probably were as well. Without much warning, Kalendraf jumped over the side of the wagon, and rushed back down the path. Denner brought the cart to an abrupt stop, and Scott turned his horse around to pursue him. He finally caught up, but not before Kal arrived at his destination. He slid down a frozen ditch, landing in a small running section of a stream. Quickly, he forced both of his arms and a portion of his chest into the icy waters, and held them there for a few minutes. Eventually, he lifted them up and turned around to face the others who had followed. His arms and chest were completely dry, and behind him the lowered level of the stream began rising to refill the absorbed water. "I had to know. It appears the witch spoke the truth as far as providing the horn with the water it seeks. Would there happen to be an empty barrel we can fill? I have a feeling I'm going to have to do this again from time to time." Smiling once again Scott pointed back at his pack horses. Looking at where Scott pointed Kal could see several casks tied down on the pack harness. He must have missed seeing them, when he took sword and dagger. This Scott Gillig was begining to look like a good deal after all. -- / bdavis@cray.com | T | Given that 6 x 9 = 42, \ ( Cray Research, Inc. | 3 | then the Universe must ) \ Chippewa Falls, WI | D | be a base 13 function. / MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolf@cheshire.oxy.edu (Clinton Richard Wolf) Subject: [L&S: Party [Lucas]]: The Gift that Keeps on Giving... Message-ID: <1993Mar10.001429.21952@cheshire.oxy.edu> Date: Wed, 10 Mar 1993 00:14:29 GMT [ADMIN: Yes, the 'thing' rears its anachronistic head once again, scattering timelines to the four winds... in some circles, the party's over... in others, it has just begun...] Serene and Mista used by permission of Laurie Alden. ------------------ Father Lucas was not having a good time. Of course, he posed the question to himself, as the heat, noise, and inane chatter of the party crashed into his carefully deadened senses, whether he had ever _had_ a good time at some point, or even if he would know what a good time was should it creep up and sink its teeth into his hind end... but then, having one's buttocks chomped would almost certainly be quite far from anything resembling a good time... This complex, and inevitably futile thought process succeeded in diver- ting at least 0.001% of Lucas' brain from the dreadful task that awaited him tonight. Another infinitely small portion mused about how much better being chomped on the buttocks might be; a third, arguing with the second that soc- ialization was in many ways much more preferable than being eaten alive; a fourth yelling at them all to shut up, and the great majority just minding their own business. Lucas wondered briefly if this was how the entity known as Great Mother felt, and if so, decided that he didn't blame Her for being such an irritable lifeform. The priest took a deep breath and scanned the room, looking for any wom- en suitably inebriated that they might not act on their flight reflexes when he started to speak with them... he spotted one and started to approach her, when he was suddenly caught in the tide of a great wave of besotted humanity that tumbled and stumbled him, then ebbed away to leave him sprawled and disheveled in the center of the floor. "How typ... *oof*" The breath was driven from his lungs as a corpulent woman wearing rather sharp heels stumbled over him... she looked down and blinked blearily a few times at him, then moved off again, muttering "what a stupid place to put a rug!" Lucas sighed and sat for a few minutes, wondering if someone might per- chance notice him and help him to his feet. He had almost given up on that tac- tic until a young couple approached, admiring him with interest. "Amazing!" said the man. "Yes, exquisite!" agreed his companion... "So lifelike! I wonder if Luthor sculpted it himself, or if it was one of the housewarming gifts?" "A work of art, in any case... look at those realistic colors, that com- pletely captivatingly despairing aura and pose! A perfect metaphor for the an- guished state of modern man..." "Quite so. We must find out who made it..." said the man, leaning in close to inspect Lucas all around. "Hmm... I don't see any tag or signature of any sort... perhaps it's supposed to be a mystery...?" "Bosh, Tony! Come on, let's go find Luthor and Serene and ask them... and congratulate them on their new house and baby, as well..." "Yes, and the hors d' oevures, also, my love!" said the man, picking up a selection from a nearby table and popping it into his mouth with an extrava- gant, sweeping gesture. "Mmmm... manifique, no?" The woman laughed. "Oh, Tony, you're so witty! Look, I think I see them over there... let's go have a tete-a-tete..." she offered her arm, he took it, and they both moved off, chattering vapidly. Lucas sat in silence, contemplating the new low he had reached... fin- ally he sighed and rose, dusting himself off. At least he now knew what this party seemed to be about... a housewarming of some sort. And a baby shower? For... Serene? The barmaid from the Inn? He looked around, trying to catch a glimpse of the hostess, and finally found her. Yes, it was the same Serene, her new baby held snugly in her arms as she chatted with a few women, who al- most seemed more interested in the baby than the conversation. Then, to his great chagrin he realized another aspect of that scene... they all held gifts. In fact, looking around he realized that one corner of the room was piled quite high with them. And Lucas had nothing to give... except, perhaps... Right. That would have to do. He walked over until within ten feet of the gath- ering... it wouldn't have done to interrupt. Besides that Serene would almost surely not remember him... no one did, after all. Instead, he concentrated on the gurgling baby in her arms, who turned her face towards him as she sensed his presence. She smiled happily, the profound joy and hope that was only to be found in the very young shining in her eyes. A slight line creased her brow suddenly as she studied the stooped figure before her, the true sight of an unsullied child seeing beyond the facade of reality to see a being as ancient as she was young, as bereft of all happiness and hope as she was overflowing with her own... the wisdom of long ages touched briefly to the wisdom born of innocence... was her joy causing him pain, she wondered? He waved his hand slightly, dismissing her worry... _Please, don't mind me, miss. I have nothing material to give you, or even a poignant poem or a heartfelt congratulations. But you should be giv- en something in exchange for being dragged out into this miserable existence... No, no, please, don't frown at that. Never feel you need to lose that smile. You see, that's what happens to all of the children: their joy always yields to despair and unhappiness when they first encounter it. I've seen it time and time again, and it's very depressing. So don't give in, for my sake or anyone else's, miss... I give you my permission, miss. I give you leave to be happy._ She considered him for a few moments with her brow still creased, and Lucas wondered if, once again, he had done more harm then good. Then, sud- denly, she broke into a wide smile, and let out a squeal of such musical joy that the warmth of it touched even Lucas' long-numbed soul for an instant. Ser- ene looked in stunned wonderment at Mista, then followed her daughter's gaze to meet the eyes of the drab man standing on the fringes of their happiness. Lucas nodded once, smiled slightly, and then turned and shuffled back into the crowds, wondering why he was having this sudden image of himself holding a scythe instead of a staff, and a long white beard, handing an hourglass to Mis- ta, who for some reason was wearing a top hat. What a ridiculous image. He shrugged it off and moved toward a noisy crowd which seemed to have gathered around some sort of game... MagicHutchHeader From: vaughan8670@iscsvax.uni.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [SQ]Radan buys his ship...and goes on a quest for salors... Message-ID: <1993Mar9.194017.11526@iscsvax.uni.edu> Date: 10 Mar 93 01:40:17 GMT ADMIN:This starts the next day(post after Delmara and Radan) the charaters used in this are from the First Bank of Generica: Winnis, nephew of Melwis(I believe) Radan, a dock guard, and the greasy fish merchant from a previous post by Aaron at Karl's party. Time is around noon, after a lengthy morning combing the peirs for a ship... *** Radan seemed more distracted than he should have. Walking down the docks, he turned down towards the merchant part of the peirs. Radan was looking for a ship, a ship that would take him to the area where he had last scene Shade, and he knew that he had better act fast, before the weather was going to thwart his plans more. The snow on the ground seemed to not do much for his moral, noting the time he first tried to get a ship for hire. They laughed at him, said there's no way a ship can traverse in this weather. Radan rooted around and knew that there was a place where they auctioned off ships that were indebted to the cities Bank of Generica, and he was going to buy his own damn ship. If it was the last thing he could do. *** AT the great Auction house of the First Bank of Generica... Winnis was sitting in a chair upon his dias, where his podium was standing. The chair was off to the side, with an oak desk piled with papers and titles to ships that were targeted for sale. There were too many ships these days that were forclosed on; Thus, when a young gentleman came into his auctioneer's room, and sat down, Winnis was not in a good mood to start with. The auction was about to take place, and the artists had finished all of the drawings of the ships they had on stock. 'Thank the Gods!' Winnis inwardly sighed. "We have a fine ship here, displayed for your view to the right," he started, and the power hungry merchants were on the floor waving their hands. "Now hold on gentleman, hold on. This ship has the passanger capacity of 75, & cargo hold of up to 20 tons. She has three masts, one in questionable condition, but the others seemingly well constructed. In a recent battle, but luckily escaped. I will start the bidding at-" "1500 crowns!" Winnis was interupted with an opening bid from a large man in front. He wore flamboyantly ornate clothing, and many rings upon his fingers. His porter was next to him, with a large case, possibly containing his money. "1500 crowns, from the Gentleman in the yellow." Winnis resumed his auctioneer stance and the bidding started to increase with every shake of a hand. It finally went for a meer 1700 crowns, a good price for a good ship. "Our next is a smaller ship, a vessel mostly used for the fish market, holds up to 25 crew, and storage for the catch of up to 10 tons of cod. I start the bidding at 1000 crowns." There were a few takers, including Radan. Another man, a fat, oily looking man, turned and recognized the innocent young man, and upped the bid to 1250. Radan not wanting to wait for a ship later, bid 1300, The Merchant seemed vexed with Radan and it puzzled him. Then, he remembered, 'That's the merchant Delmara escaped from at the party last night. Damn, I wish he would lay off. The merchant raised his to 1350. Radan upped his to 1400. The merchant not wanting to be beat again, raised it again to 1500. Radan let him have this one. "SOLD!! to the gentleman in Red." Winnis was getting into his auctioneer state, for every ship so far has been sold with more surplus form the debt owed to each one. "The next vessel to cross your paths is this beauty of a clipper ship. Her capacity is 20, and a spacious galley deck, as well as a cargo hold that will carry up to 5 tons. The bidding starts at 800 crowns." There were a few bidders and Radan was looking at the picture constructed by the artists, and knew that this ship would really do for the type of job he needed done. Winnis was looking around for another bid at 1075, "any takers at 1075? ANY takers? Going once, GOING Twice-" "1300 crowns." Raden's voice echoed a hint of warning to any other bidders beyond that. The Fisher merchant looked back expecting to see someone else, but it was Radan who was standing there. "1300 Crowns, I bid 1300." Radan had looked a bit taller then, a little more muscular too, and he shot a look at the merchant, who was about to over bid, and thought better of it when the glint in Raden's eye slapped him in the face. "1300 crowns, do I hear 1350? Any takers at 1350?" Winnis scanned the crowd and only saw Radan there. After a long pause, "Going once, going twice, Done deal at 1300 crowns to the gentleman in white and black." After the initial paperwork was done, money exchanged, and the deed to the ship was signed; Radan went to the dock where his ship was docked. It was still in the water during this time, since the previous owners were alleviated of their burden by the First Bank of Generica for failure to pay their interest rate on the mortgage taken out on it. It was a small sleak ship, but it would do the job needed to be done. The Scarlet Moon was its name. There seemed to be no one on the ship, when Radan approached it. He stepped a foot on the gang-plank, and a dock security officer cried, "Halt or be arrested on behalf of the First Bank of Genreica!" Radan stopped, and turned to see his assailant. The officer had on a drab uniform, was clean shaven, and looked a bit tougher than Radan thought regular security gaurds looked like. "Hello, are you the security officer on duty?--" Radan had started. "Yeah, I am; and you better back off that gang-plank right now, or you will be in quite a bit of trouble. I have orders to keep anyone form entering the ship." "Dear sir, I am the new owner of this ship, and I can prove it, here are my papers." Radan pulled out his validation papers, and owner's certificate. "This is my signature, and I am who I am. Now, will you escort me on board my ship? Or will I have to talk to your superiors about this?" Radan finished with a note of perturbance. "Um, ahh, I apologize sire, I didn't know, news of new owners doesn't come to us quickly..." "Hey, listen, you were just doing your job. Thank you for protecting my ship for me. Now, I am going on my ship, and if you wish to accompany me, great. I can find my way around the ship, but if you feel you should out of duty, feel free to." Radan started back up, and finally made it onto his ship. It creaked back and forth with the waves of the ocean. Even in dock, but it wasn't a bad feeling. He went down to the living quarters, and found the captains chamber, it had a splendid few of everything around the rear of the ship, and both port and starboard sides. The cabin was left in a tidy order, and there was a desk with a chair that pivoted on a bar connected to the desk. It was a very nice arrangement, but when Radan tried to move the desk, he couldn't budge it one inch. He tried several times, and still couldn't move it. Then, he looked at the bottom of the desk and found it bolted to the floor. 'No wonder. I feel like an idiot now. Well, there is no hope for it.' There was a largish bed next to the windows rear and port of the ship. Upon closer inspection, it seemed that there were three windows in each of the frames. 'Well, what an interesting window. I don't think that was very practical.' Then Radan noticed that the glass to the outer window was cracked in one of the frames. He looked closer, and found that the other two windows were not cracked or damaged in anyway. "Three layers of protection from the outside. I guess it wasn't a bad idea after all, and more practical." I won't have anyone swinging down into my cabin and crashing in uninvited.' There were a large number of draperies hanging about the main window frames. "privacy for when one needs it...hmm....nice." After inspecting the entire ship, Radan was satified and the gaurd was still waiting at the edge of the gang-plank. "Thank you for your time, I will be leaving now, if you could keep a watch on it, I would be extremely grateful." Radan told him as he passed by. "Ahh, I have a question for you. Where would I get a crew to man this vessel?" "I know that there are a few pubs that would supply your ship with a fairly good crew. I would try the Dragons Inn. That place has more than a few good men for your ship." The gaurd was very courteous, and directed Radan to the pub. Shaking his head at the site of a landlubber owning a ship, and not having a crew yet to man her... Radan Tsran ADMIN: the term "Crowns" was used for gold peices, for, I don't know the exact currency of Generica...sorry MagicHutchHeader From: zweldron@ruhets.rutgers.edu (Matthew Charlap) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [TW] Moria: Seeing old friends. Message-ID: Date: 9 Mar 93 21:44:20 GMT References: <1993Mar5.135420.6203@wkuvx1.bitnet> fannicm@wkuvx1.bitnet (Master Hawk) writes: > 'Hey! We weren't the only survivors!' These words caught Ixy's attention as he started to get up. "I see you're feeling better, Moria," he commented as he headed over to meet her. "How are the burns? I have some salve to heal scorch marks now. I see the 'rider managed to survive. This time, hopefully we'll be more prepared." He gave Moria a grim smile at that last comment. -- --Matthew Charlap ------------------------------------------------------------- This is STILL a test of the .signature If this were a real .sig file, something else would be here, not just a name. MagicHutchHeader From: stegehe@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Eldarath: Entering Generica Message-ID: <1993Mar9.210216.6306@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 9 Mar 93 21:02:16 CST Eldarath hurried down the deserted street in the pouring rain, looking ahead for the nearest shelter. Lightning flashed, and up ahead, he beheld the sign "Dragon's Inn". "Sounds promising," Eldarath mumbled to himself as he stepped through the doors. He stood on the mat, wringing water from his beard and cursing Wonko for taking his nice floppy hat. Eldarath glanced around the room and was pleased with the coziness of the surroundings. This inn was luxurious compared to some of the establishments he had been in before, and the patronage wasn't of the seedy type that usually infest the pubs, although there were some rather suspicious- looking characters relaxing here. All in all, this inn seemed to be just right for Eldarath. He immediately headed for the bar. "A flaming rum punch if you would, sir," Eldarath said to the bartender, "and be quick about it." The bartender brought him his drink, none too happy with the attitude of this new patron, but seemed to be appeased by the gold piece he received in return. Eldarath turned to the bartender, "I don't suppose you've seen a friend of mine around here. Hairy fellow. Goes by the name Wonko." The bartender grunted, "Sure I've seen him. Strange chap, he was in here a couple of days ago. Said he was looking for noodles or something." "Ahh," Eldarath sighed, "That would be him. Have you any idea where he might have gone? I have some terribly important information for him." "Nope. He didn't mention where he was going or when he'd be back," the bartender smiled, "I hope he does return. I was beginning to like him. He does this nifty trick with fifty feet of cord and a chicken that'll knock your socks off. See, he takes the chicken and ties..." "Erm, I've seen it, unfortunately. I appreciate your help. Now, I was wondering if you have an extra room. I've been on the road for a while and am in need of a good rest," Eldarath smiled with thoughts of a comfortable bed and a warm bath. The bartender gave Eldarath a key and directions to the room. Eldarath paid the bartender, then headed upstairs. The room lived up to his expectations, though he did not have much time to enjoy the overall luxury of the room, for he was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Eldarath slept soundly, and in the morning was glad to see that the weather had cleared, signifying a promising day. He donned his gray cloak and headed into the city to see what adventures befell him. There was still no sign of Wonko, and Eldarath was anxious to find him, for he still had much to tell Wonko of the events following Eldarath's near-death at the bridge. A lot had happened since then, more than Eldarath cared to think about. MagicHutchHeader From: hilanse@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Bossie: Gets Milked! Message-ID: <1993Mar9.210510.6307@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 9 Mar 93 21:05:09 CST Farmer Joe Bob Billy Ray (Hereafter referred to as J2BR) milked Bossie, squeezing the milk from her udders and collecting it in the bucket below. Bossie loved Farmer J2BR, he was nice to her, and he never forgot to milk her at 6:00 AM, when it was just right. She dozed quietly as she was milked. She dreamt and dreamt, and was suddenly in the middle of a nightmare. She smelled blood and tasted flesh, it was vile, yet she enjoyed it perversely. Bossie knew it was bad, but she didn't care. She saw the horrified face of her victim, it was Farmer J2BR, this shocked her to her senses and her sudden movement surprised the farmer so much that he fall backwards onto the hay. Bossie looked at him with her unfathomable muddy brown eyes as if to say I'm sorry. Bossie's love for the farmer was tainted now, but he stood up, shook himself off, and dusted the hay from his clothes. "Well, Bossie, are you okay? You seem kinda sick.." Bossie just mooed miserably. Farmer J2BR let her out into the pasture, and, though it was a beautiful day, Bossie just couldn't seem to frolic, she lay in the grass, worrying and worrying. She fell asleep in the meadow, and , when night fell, the beast awoke. This time the beast followed the country road down to the woods, it hid in them and waited for someone, anyone, on whom to feed... Bossie's Tragedy (C)1993 Purely Weird Publishing --I'll say mental illness is an understatement, this guy's lost a cog or something. ---Ya, a few bricks short of a load, bees in the bonnet, cows in the morgue... --Ah, now you're starting to talk like he does. MagicHutchHeader MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BH] Artimian tells a bit about himself Message-ID: <1nk74lINNbf0@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> Date: 10 Mar 93 07:59:17 GMT > Amberele cocked her head at Arthslunk in an effort to understand what > the man was saying. Giving up she glared at Artimian. > "He's upstairs asleep and if you wouldn't mind being a little more > quiet." Amberle caught sight of the barmaid coming over to the table. > Quickly she motioned Artimian to the chair by the third bowl of soup. > "What's the big rush anyways?" she asked in a more quite voice. The > barmaid turned and went back to her chair that she had been sleeping in. Artimian rested his forehead on the back of the chair for a moment. /Calm down, man. One thing at a time./ He mumbled a short incantation and pointed to everyone at the table. "No rush, I'm just a bit upset is all," he whispered. His voice carried clearly to their ears. "Do you always get this morbid when you're upset? What's the deal with bringing a skull to breakfast?" Suddenly she remembered the card she had drawn for him and went silent. Artimian picked up a spoon and began slowly chewing on it. Dart hummed down to the third bowl and pulled at it unsuccessfully for a while. Eventually Arthsplunt picked up the bowl and set it in front of Artimian. Amberle almost considered pulling out a deck of cards to shuffle until Artimian said something. "It seems to me that the prime of my life has been wasted fighting undead and lyncanthropes. I've almost grown accustomed to meeting a horde of them waiting for me every new place I go. You see, I've been hunting a friend for eight years." Artimian paled. He had never put it quite that way before. He had hardly even spoken aloud of it since he started but he realized that what he said was true. He still thought of Effandir as a friend, sometimes even remembering him when it was more than that. And his quest could only be described as a hunt, to be ended with one of them laying dead at the other's feet. "We grew up together in the temple of Azuth in Elturel. I was studying to be a monk alongside him even though I knew I couldn't stay one, being first in line to the throne. We worked in the library, often times alone. We found books that we weren't supposed to read and started studying magick, in more than one form. I found and ancient text on summoning and the structure of spells. He found... other things. "The first time we were caught wasn't a big deal. Father Rayfus gave us a lecture about how disciples should behave. I tried to listen." Artimian drew in a ragged breath. These were memories he hadn't touched in a long time. "The seventh time he was thrown out of the church. They only let me stay because I was the prince. I buried myself further into the old books to forget about it. Then a cult worshiping Cyric moved in. That's when I met a were-rat for the first time." A scene flashed before his eyes, lit by a small dancing flame. The smell of fresh blood and alcohol came from a man laying at his feet. Laughter came out of the darkness behind him. "You want to help him, don't you? A prince and a priest wanting to protect his people." It laughed again, sloppily and inhuman. Artimian's light flew towards the voice and was clapped out of existence by dark furred hands. Two black eyes seemed to hold the light of the fire for a moment before lunging at him. Both Amberle and Arthsplunt were saying something, but Artimian was lost in his recollection. "I had become known in the church and most were able to accept my skill with summoning. Rayfus still had a problem with it..." Another memory emerged, more intense than the last. "I've called you here to speak of two things." Rayfus, a Bishop now, glared down at Artimian standing in the doorway. Rayfus' white robes brushed against the desk making a harsh rasping sound, but the rest of the room was silent. He looked into Rayfus' dark eyes, then at the mahogany desk. /What now?/ he wondered. But as impatient as he tried to sound to himself, he could not bring his gaze back to the Bishop's face. Rayfus waited a few moments, then said, "I've heard once again about your insistence to learn magick," Rayfus said. He watched his face intently as he spoke. "Azuth frowns upon such activities among the common people, even if you are first in line to the throne." At this Artimian raised his gaze to meet the Bishop's glare for glare. "If Azuth does not want me to practice magick, then why did he grant me the talent and understanding to do so." He had been expecting this for several weeks and had thought through exactly how it would go. Rayfus turned red. "Do NOT question the actions of our God! How dare you pass judgment on Him!" "I do not question Azuth, Bishop Rayfus, nor pass judgment upon him. I question your interpretations of what he has done." he stood face to face with the Bishop. "You know only a little of what actually has occurred. You do not know that Azuth would condemn what I have done. If you presume that I do not think before I act, then you are wrong." The Bishop shook and glared at him for a few moments. Then he said in a quiet voice, "We both know what you and a certain other disciple have done when you were thinking." Artimian blushed. "Consider this," Rayfus said. He was sitting behind the desk now. "Common folk will not understand magick, particularly your style of magick. Particularly when there is word of a cult forming within this city. Commoners will distrust you and any who stand with you. Rayfus leaned back into his chair. "You are becoming too much of a burden to me. You're too wild, but that also makes you more effective than most priests I have. If you must have a purpose in life, then I could bind you under the Article of Phillipe to find and destroy the cult that is forming here. You may need your particular talents for that." "He named me a paladin and sent me after the cult. I tracked them down in less than two months. By the time I found that they and the rat were connected, they had already done something to me... I began to distrust myself. One night they killed my parents." Artimian closed his eyes and shuddered. He pushed away the bowl of soup and said, "I need a drink." "Bartender, I believe I'll have another pitcher of water..." (Artimian Yauntir of Elturel) MagicHutchHeader From: cgirard@metz.une.edu.au (CHRISTIAN GIRARD) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Genesis of Timelord: Part II Message-ID: <271@grivel.une.edu.au> Date: 10 Mar 93 12:44:06 GMT ADMIN: Here is part two. Hope you are enjoying it so far, I haven't heard, so I'll just keep going! Part III and part IV have yet to be written, so it may be a little while before they get to you all. Genesis of Timelord: Part II Timelord wandered aimlessly for a time, tears blurring his vision. What was happening? Where had his mother gone? There were no answers, just the sounds of battle, the sounds of men and women dying. After a while he took shelter under the wheels of one of the caravans, huddled there hoping to avoid discovery. He could not be sure how long he stayed there, whether it was a few minutes or a few hours. All he knew was that all of a sudden there was quiet, the only sounds being that made by horses moving slowly, and that of the waves crashing on the shore. Timelord peered out of his hiding place. Seeing none of the raiders he ventured out, stepping around carefully. The camp had been completely wrecked. Bodies lay everywhere, and the air was full of the stench of death. Ahead of him he heard the sounds of voices - men laughing and children crying. Cautiously he moved towards the sound. Hiding behind a barrel he stared at the source of the sounds. The children from the expedition had been rounded up and tied together, and were being guarded by a dozen or more burly men wearing strange trousers and wielding swords and whips. They were talking and laughing amongst themselves in a language Timelord didn't understand. Suddenly a large hand grabbed him by the back of his neck and lifted him high in the air. His captor shouted something to those guarding the children, and Timelord found himself carried towards them. He kicked and squirmed, but couldn't break free. His captor laughed at his efforts, then tied him up with the rest of the children. A heavily bearded man with a curious rolling stride approached. "It that them all?" he growled to the nearest bandit. "Aye, Captain Black," he replied, "we just nabbed the last one." Captain Black grunted. "Bring 'em on board," he ordered, "and I'll flay yer hide if you damage any of 'em." The whips cracked, bringing the children to their feet. They were then marched at a brisk pace along the beach until they came to a series of longboats. They were bundled in, and those old enough were ordered to row. Timelord, being too small to man one of the oars, sat near the prow of one of the boats. He could see their destination, a large, ugly looking ship anchored off shore. He had never seen any ship before in his life, but he had heard tales of this sort, and knew they were heading for a slaver. Bundled on board, Timelord and the others were forced into the hold of the ship. It was dank, dark, and rats scurried freely. Everyone was scared, and many were crying. Timelord, too, was scared, but he didn't cry. He wasn't yet six, so couldn't really grasp the enormity of what had happened to him. But two things were very clear in his mind. Firstly, he would survive, no matter what they did to him. Second, he would have his revenge on Captain Skerg. The next year was a nightmare. The slaver went from port to port, always buying or selling slaves where he could. The eldest children went first, bought to work in fields or as personal slaves for whoever wanted to pay for their youth. Those Timelord's age were generally overlooked, considered no good to work in fields until they were older. The cramped and dingy conditions took their toll on those imprisoned. The rats carried a multitude of diseases, which were compounded by the damp and the poor food. Half of the five and six year olds died, and the others all became thin and weak. Somehow Timelord survived. When he was seven the slaver docked at a land on the far side of the world, a country known only in legends and tales back in Generica. As was the usual routine, the slaves in the hold were brought on deck, then paraded on the dock for the waiting buyers. The dock was quite large, and it was evident that the slave trade was popular there, as many buyers were waiting. They were a strange looking people to Timelord's eyes, being shorter in stature than most and with curious almond- shaped eyes. They were, however, a very fit and hardly looking people. Captain Black moved towards the group of buyers, bowing to them from the waist. A brief conversation ensued, then he turned back to his crew. "Line 'em up," he shouted, "all of them. Bring the young ones to the front." Timelord found himself pushed towards the front, and he looked around in wonder. The robes of those who had come to buy slaves were all very fine to his eyes, rather than the shabby clothing evident at other ports. A sharp slap across the head reminded him to keep his eyes to himself. The buyers went up and down the lines, inspecting each boy closely. They seemed generally disappointed by the condition of the children, although Timelord couldn't understand their language. He had come through the voyage better than most, despite losing a fair amount of weight. In the end the choices were made. Those selected were unchained and handed over, money changing hands. Timelord had resigned himself to another long sea voyage when one of the buyers pointed to him. The chain around his ankle was removed, and for the first time in more than twelve months he was free of its weight. He was pushed towards the one who had bought him, then placed in the back of a horse-drawn cart with several other boys. The back of the cart was surrounded by a wooden cage, and once the door was secured the driver stepped up onto the front of the cart. He shook the reins and the horse obediently started forward, heading along a dirt road leading inland. The boys spoke little during their journey, each caught up in their own private fears. They had no idea what lay ahead of them, and didn't know whether they were being lead to their deaths, or worse. After traveling for around an hour the cart came to a halt at a set of gates guarded by two imposing figures dressed in ornate armour. After a brief word the driver shook the reins again and they passed through. Their journey ended in front of a large single storey house a few hundred yards from the gate. The boys were let out and told to stand before the door to the house, with two more armed guards nearby. The door opened and the Master of Slaves stepped out. He was advanced in years, but he moved as though he were still a young man. He cast a stern eye over the group. "I am Myashi," he said in a strange accent, but in the language they understood. "You are now the property of the master of this land, whose name you are not worthy to hear! If you serve faithfully, you will be rewarded, but if you do not, your reward will be death!" He gestured to the man who had taken them from the dock. "Roshi will take you to where you will be working. You will speak only when required, otherwise you will be punished. Go!" With that he turned and re-entered the house. Timelord was taken further into the estate where a small shack stood in the middle of an expanse of garden. Roshi got off the cart and knocked on the door It opened to reveal an elderly man, dressed in old grass and mud stained clothes. The two bowed to each other, and held a brief conversation. Roshi then beckoned to Timelord, who hesitantly joined the two men. "This is your master," said Roshi. "you will obey him at all times! Any disobedience will be reported and dealt with accordingly!" With that he turned, remounted the cart, and rode off. Timelord looked up at the strange, old man, tears welling in his eyes. the man smiled in sympathy, the crouched down in front of Timelord, bringing their heads to the same level. "You scared?" the man said gently, his voice heavily accented. Timelord nodded dumbly. "Not worry," the man replied, "Kurasha will be good to you. I feed, teach you, you work hard, and no worries, hmm?" Timelord nodded again, and Kurasha rose. He placed a gentle hand on Timelord's shoulder, then pointed to the shack. "We go in, eat," he said. "Sound good?" "Thank you," Timelord whispered softly. They moved towards the shack, but Kurasha stopped him at the entrance. "Shoes," he said, pointing at Timelord's feet. "Off." At first Timelord was somewhat confused, as the man's accent made him difficult to understand. When he realised what Kurasha wanted he bent and carefully untied the rotting thongs that held his shoes in place. His feet were battered and torn from long exposure to the bilge water and filth of the slaver. Kurasha took one look at the sores and shook his head sadly. Muttering to himself in his own tongue he picked up Timelord and carried him into the shack. He placed him on a table in the kitchen area and told him to stay. Strange smells wafted through the air and Timelord sniffed deeply, glad to be free of the cloying odour of unwashed bodies and brine. Kurasha returned shortly, carrying a steaming bowl as well as various jars and implements. He placed them beside Timelord, then carefully examined his feet. "Not good," he murmured. He looked up at Timelord, who was wincing slightly. "Hurt a little," Kurasha explained, "but not for long. Make them better." The salves and ointments did sting, but Timelord gritted his teeth and endured it. When he had finished Kurasha gently wrapped his feet in linen cloths soaked in aromatic oils, then he smiled. "Better now?" he asked. Timelord nodded. "Good." Satisfied his young charge was comfortable he bustled about the kitchen preparing some dinner. When it was just about ready he picked up Timelord and carried him into an adjoining room. In the center of the room was a low table, surrounded by cushions. Used to tables and chairs, Timelord was somewhat confused at the eating arrangements, but said nothing. Kurasha sat him on one of the cushions and went back into the kitchen. He emerged carrying a large tray that he set on the middle of the table. He muttered a quick prayer, then knelt on a cushion. The tray contained a large bowl of rice, some slices of meat that looked to Timelord like raw fish, and some fresh fruits. Conspicuously absent, however, were knives and forks; instead two sets of long, thing sticks sat beside two empty bowls. Kurasha quickly filled one bowl with rice and handed it to Timelord. He then filled his own bowl and began to eat happily. Somewhat uncertain on how to use the strange utensils, Timelord picked up the pair of sticks and tried to emulate Kurasha's effortless style. However, all he managed to do was spill most of it back into the bowl, gaining only about one o two grains at a time. Kurasha looked on and smiled to himself. How like his own grandson this one was! It hardly seemed like yesterday, yet it was twelve months since little Susha had been taken by the dark fever and went to be with his honourable ancestors. It was as if his spirit had returned to him in the form of this strange, round-eyed boy. So thinking, he rounded the table to show Timelord how to use the chopsticks. Timelord's feet healed quickly, and within a few days he was able to begin working with Kurasha in the gardens. Kurasha was responsible for the gardens surrounding his feudal lord's manor, and tended to them daily. The two became a familiar sight, the small round-eyed boy beside the old gardener, and they talk softly as they moved about the gardens. Kurasha taught him how to care for the various plants, their properties and place in nature as a whole. At night, when back in the shack, he would teach Timelord the language of the island, and to show proper respect for his lord and their deities. Although initially unsure about the new gods Kurasha prayed to, Timelord soon accepted them as he had the gods his family had respected at home. By the time he was twelve, Timelord was fluent in the language of the island and well versed in the care and sculpting of the various plants and trees in the gardens. He was also strong and agile, having learnt some basic rolls and throws of a self defence practiced on the island from some of the other servants and slaves. He would practise often, and Kurasha would often note to himself or out loud at how proficient Timelord was becoming. Kurasha, who had gone grey haired over the years but was still as active as ever, smiled one day as Timelord bounded inside the shack for lunch. "You are late," he said in mock anger. Timelord bowed deeply and flamboyantly. "Oh, master," he said with smile, "I am but as worthless as the dirt. Can you forgive me?" Kurasha laughed. "Sit and eat," he said, "I have important news." "Oh?" queried Timelord as he knelt down. He bowed twice over his food, then picked up his bowl. "Yes," replied Kurasha, repeating the gesture. "This evening we must go up to the manor and prepare the gardens in the central courtyard, for our lord is preparing a big feast for his supporters." "We?" asked Timelord, his excitement growing. He had never been allowed within fifty yards of the manor, let alone inside. "We," repeated Kurasha with a nod. "Usually I would have taken Sahi with me, but he is still in his three days of mourning for his brother, so I shall take you instead." "I am honoured," said Timelord reverently, and bowed towards the alcove dedicated to the master of the estate. Kurasha continued to speak as they ate. "There are only certain areas into which we may go," he instructed firmly. "Any deviation into sacred or noble ground may be punishable by death. I will show you where we can and can not go, so there should not be any problems there." Timelord nodded his understanding. "It will take most of the night and probably part of tomorrow morning to complete the preparations," Kurasha continued. "Flowers must be arranged, garden beds weeded, bushes reshaped, and trees inspected for any disease or imperfections. Everything must be perfect." Again Timelord nodded, his eyes glowing with excitement. Kurasha noted it and smiled. "I, too, was excited the first time I was taken to the manor," he said, "although I was younger than you, being a free islander." He then became more serious. "Remember what I have instructed you on courtesy and honour towards the high born!" he warned. "So far you have met only a few minor lords, but tonight you may meet many of the High Lord's council or allies. On no account speak unless ordered to! You are a slave, so you must prostrate yourself before them if they pass you by. Otherwise," Kurasha added more lightly, "you may find yourself falling to pieces in more ways than one!" "I shall remember," said Timelord, "and I shall also remember who it was who taught me such courtesies, if I should meet anyone even mildly important!" "That is good", said Kurasha. "Now, eat. We have much work to do." An hour or so before sunset they left to go to the manor. They carried with them the tools they would need, all piled into a barrow pushed by Kurasha. As they neared their destination Timelord drank in every detail, wondering at the beauty before him. The manor stood in the center of the estate, and dwarfed any building Timelord had seen on the isle. It was surrounded by a huge wall, twenty feet high and eight foot thick. The top was further fortified, giving protection to the soldiers that paraded up and down , day and night. The main gates were constructed of solid oak, reinforced with steel bands, and were guarded constantly by soldiers both on the surrounding wall and on the ground in front of them. Timelord could barely contain his excitement as they approached the gates. For the first time he would actually see inside, to see how the all powerful High Lord lived. Kurasha approached the guards in front of the gates. He bowed and spoke to them, showing a document he produced from inside his shirt. The guard examined the note and nodded to Kurasha, who then beckoned to Timelord. The two then passed through the gates that were opened at a shouted command from the guard. Timelord tried not to gawk at the surroundings as he passed into the central courtyard. Inside the walls were clusters of well-maintained buildings, all with ornately carved railings and overhangs. They were arranged spaciously around a central courtyard area, and it was to this that Kurasha led him. "This is the High Lord's palace grounds," Kurasha whispered. "In here are the finest gardens on the whole island. I have tended them many times, and will show you where you will be working tonight." Timelord nodded, his mouth dry in anticipation. They approached a second set of gates, again guarded, but the men on duty wore a different type of uniform to those outside. Their winged helmets were golden, and inlaid with precious stones. Their armour was burnished, and their katanas drawn. Again Kurasha produced his letter, and they were passed into the inner courtyard. Kurasha lead Timelord to a garden expanse near the north wall. "Here you will work tonight," he said. "There is too much to do for me to remain with you, but I know you have the skill to tend to the gardens properly. Remember my teachings, little Timelord!" he finished with a smile. He left a bag of tools, and moved off into the twilight. Timelord looked around the garden. There were stands of cherry trees, rows of low shrubs, as well as a profuse rose bed. There was certainly plenty to keep him occupied this night! Not too long after he had begun inspecting the cherry trees for disease or defect a servant appeared and began to light the lanterns the surrounded the garden. The added light was a great help, as Timelord was having some difficulty seeing the trees clearly. An hour or so later and Timelord was down on his hands and knees in the rose bed. Although the flowers were closed, he could still easily smell their pungent fragrence. He frowned as he came across a small cluster of weeds. He was about to pull them out with his bare hands when he realised exactly what sort of weed it was. Although similar in appearance to the common nettleball, the Viperweed was unrelated, and much more nasty. The weeed was a pleasant green colour, quite succulent-looking, and was about five inches in diameter. Each of its many stalks ended in a small ball of tissue, about the size of a marble, which had small woody spikes protuding from its surface. Anybody unwary enough to come into contact with the weed, either accidently or by confusing it with nettleball would soon regret it. The spikes were razor sharp, easily penetrating skin or light cloth. The weed would then eject from the spikes, which were actually hollow, a liquid that caused intense pain and discomfort, often to the point of being incapacitated if stung sufficiently. Hence the name Viperweed. Drawing from his belt a pair of very heavy leather gloves, Timelord began to cautiously dig the weed from the garden, placing it into a leather bag. He then methodically searched the rest of the rose bed, finding a few other infestations of the dreaded weed. After working so intensely, Timelord sat back on his heels to stretch his back and neck. As he did so he noticed a door being opened on the far side of the garden and a figure step out. He was a tall man, his imposing form sillouetted by the light from the door. His robes were of the finest silk, with the red on black colouring of the High Lord. His hair was drawn into an intricate top-knot, indicating a high rank, and a gold and jewel encrusted katana and wakizashi were sheathed at his side. Timelord dropped to the ground as the figure stepped forward. Although he had been taught exactly how to behave in front of the lords of the manor, he reasoned that the best way to avoid any possible insult to their honour was to simply disappear. So he wormed his way as far into the garden bed as he could, being careful not to make any sound. Looking up he could see the lord walking leisurely around the perimeter of the garden, taking in the cool night air. Timelord watched from his vantage point, hoping that he wouldn't be noticed. A shadow moving along the top of the garden wall drew his attention. The only reason he saw it was that from position on the ground the shadow blotted out some of the stars as it moved. It moved in absolute silence, and Timelord thought that he had been seeing things until it stopped and drew a long, silvery object silently from beneath its robes. As the armed assassin crouched atop the wall, Timelord realised that its target was the lord who so calmy walked below. For the last six years Timelord had been brought to revere the High Lord above all else, and to obey the High Lord's commands and those of the other lords implicitely. Now, seeing someone attempting to kill one of the men he had sworn undying loyalty to, he realised that he had to do something. For an instant he actually contemplated doing nothing, remembering he had been brought to the island as a slave. But Kurasha's love and teaching prevailed. With his gloved right had he slowly reached for the bag containing the Viperweed he had just pulled from the garden. Reaching in, he carefully stripped the spikey orbs from one of the plants, and bundled them loosely in his right hand. He didn't have time to see how many he had taken, nor how many had caught in the heavy leather of the glove, for the lord was only ten feet from the assassin. Timelord leapt to his feet, drew back his arm and threw the orbs at the shadowy figure, at the same time shouting, "My lord, look out!" MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: aaron@atlantis.uucp Subject: [MI/SQ] Alfvaen: Reporting Message-ID: <1993Mar6.193832.23396@atlantis.uucp> Date: Sat, 6 Mar 1993 19:38:32 GMT Elstree glanced quickly at Moriarty as he entered the Dragon's Inn, then looked away. So he was finally here. She waited a few minutes and then stood up and left the Inn. She walked into a nearby alley and found there an imp. "Hello there," she said. "What's your name?" The imp groveled. "If it please you, Mistress, I am most unworthily named Ibidin." Looking around quickly to ensure that no-one else was present, Elstree disappeared, to be replaced by Alfvaen. He proceeded to tell the imp about what he had seen and heard from inside the amulet on the trip to the Cartographer's Guild. He concluded, "So it looks like Ornigan and his friends are planning some kind of jailbreak. You can watch them, and I'll go talk to Urcohea. And then I think I'm going to take the night off. I'm sure that Nijorik will be happy to give you any assistance you may need tonight." Then he said, "Report to Moriarty." Ibidin groveled again. "Yes, master." He disappeared in a cloud of blue smoke. Alfvaen waited impatiently. The imp returned a few minutes later. "My master Moriarty has this message for you." Then, in Moriarty's voice, he said, "Okay, sure. Go off and have fun. You've been working too hard. Leave me to deal with a bunch of crazy adventurers. Tell Nijorik not to hurry, okay? That guy gives me the creeps." Alfvaen grinned. "Thank you, Ibidin. You may return to your master." The imp nodded and disappeared again. Alfvaen emerged from the alley and set off up the Arcade of Fountains towards the Mage Guild. He took the special entrance Urcohea had recommended he use, and after a short but gut-wrenching walk through what seemed to be a large number of strange dimensions, and several nasty-looking creatures that looked like they would rather eat him, or worse, if they weren't enjoined against it, he walked through a mauve portal into Urcohea's office. The Archmage looked up at him. He had been aware of Alfvaen's imminent arrival since he had entered the door. "So, what do you have to report?" "Followed this Ornigan around all morning. He and his companions were headed off to the Cartographer's Guild, so I accompanied them, and even got them a guide." He didn't mention that Elstree had actually done this--it wasn't all that important. "Once we got there, Ornigan seemed most interested in finding maps of the Gaps that led to the dungeons beneath Glorshanned Keep. I think they may be planning a jailbreak." Urcohea raised an eyebrow. "Interesting. I wonder who they would be trying to break out?" He pressed a button on his desk. "Archmage Rivy, please," he said. Then, a few seconds later, "Could you please get me files on current prisoners in Glorshanned Keep? Posthaste. Thank you." Turning back to Alfvaen, he said, "Now, I can't think of anyone offhand that Thorn would want to liberate from the dungeons, but you never know how his plans will reach. He tries to stick to legal means--in fact, he's invented a few himself--but he will sink lower if necessary. But the question is, why would he be doing this for Thorn?" He thought for a minute, then said, "Tell me your impression of his companions." Alfvaen thought for a minute--or, rather, he listened to Elstree's descriptions. "Maleiu, the black warrior, we had met before, in the Buff'. I get the impression of honour and loyalty--he's on some kind of quest, that sounds mind-boggling, but he's still planning to complete it. Something about walking all the shores of the world. But he apparently still thinks on a tribal level, and on a debt-exchange basis. "Mistletoe is very unpredictable. She looks like an airhead sometimes, and is insatiably curious, but she's smarter than she looks. She and Maleiu seem to be very much in love. "Bronwen is almost certainly an airhead. She was working with Ornigan, and seemed almost more interested in the maps than he was. So the possibility arises that there are personal reasons for the break. "And the Kelsie--I'm not at all sure. From comments Bronwen dropped, I think she's a creature of Faerie, bound to Bronwen because she knows her truename. She's definitely not human. She was the one who memorized the maps, so she is probably going to be their guide in the Gaps." "Interesting," Urcohea murmured. "This part of Nexus rarely comes into contact with Fairyland, so we don't see many of their creatures here. I'll have to do some research on them. I presume that Moriarty is still keeping tabs on these people?" Alfvaen nodded. "I'm taking the night off. I really need a break." Urcohea raised an eyebrow. "As you like. I'll send Nijorik down as backup." Alfvaen grinned. "Thought you would. Moriarty's looking forward to it." A package flew out of a tube in the wall and landed neatly on top of Urcohea's desk. "Ah, here we are." He opened the package and flipped rapidly through the papers within. "A couple of suspects in the Rameshander killings. That's a possibility, with Amaan's involvement. Some halfling caught for burglary a few months ago. Not likely. A couple of pirates awaiting trial by the Seaguard. Brought in on the Arcas, only a couple of days ago." He looked up thoughtfully. "Ornigan and the others came in on the Arcas, didn't they? Hmm. Maybe they want to take personal revenge on them for some reason." "Or maybe they befriended one of them," Alfvaen countered. "My impression was that they weren't that vindictive." "Still, I can't see anything that Thorn would be too interested in. The evidence on the Rameshander suspects is strictly circumstantial. No, I think that it's more to do with the pirates." "So what are you going to do about it?" Alfvaen asked. "Nothing," Urcohea said. "If Thorn's not involved, then all we would gain by interfering would be getting Ornigan and the others thrown in jail, where we wouldn't be able to see what he was planning for them. I think it's more important to let them run free. Of course, if they get caught on their own, then that's not our problem either. Remember, I have the security of the Mage Guild to worry about. I can't go solving all the crimes in Generica. Of course, you're free to report them to the Guard yourself and perhaps even get a reward. After all, you're not a permanent employee." Alfvaen nodded distractedly. "I'll think about it." He turned to leave, and then paused. "Is there an easier way out?" Urcohea smiled. "No, not really. It's not so bad the other way, though. I'm not as worried about people leaving." This was little comfort to Alfvaen's digestion, though. When he stood once more on the Arcade of Fountains, he vowed not to eat anything else for a week. Now the question was, what to do that evening. He wandered back to the Dragon's Inn, in time to see Rowan Littlefair stepping out the door. "Where are you going?" he asked the bartender. "Oh, hi, Alfvaen," Littlefair said. "I'm off to a housewarming party. Luthor and Serene--you may remember Serene, and I don't know if you've met Luthor." Alfvaen shook his head. "In any case, there's an open invitation for all Inn patrons--even most of the Rabble are going, and most of the adventurers, too." "Thanks, Littlefair," Alfvaen said. Exactly what the doctor ordered. "I'll see you there, maybe?" "Sure thing," Littlefair grinned and set off down Dragon's Lane. ADMIN: Yeah, so I'm a little late getting into the Party thing. I love flexible time-tracks... -- ---Alfvaen(1883 Books, 1060 Albums, And Counting) "Mills, who gave me the book, is responsible for my now being Anna Karenina..." ---John Skaife Current Album--Rush:Power Windows Current Read--Michelle Sagara:Children of The Blood MagicHutchHeader From: hilanse@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Wonko: And Athorbalo? Message-ID: <1993Mar10.135300.6317@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 10 Mar 93 13:53:00 CST Wonko munched on the stroganoff, smiling at Athorbalo, he knew better than to have a warm tingly feeling inside right know, but he couldn't help it. She wolfed down the food ravenously, not a very dainty woman, Wonko thought and grinned. He reclined on the cot, and inspected the wound on his forearm, the cut had not stopped bleeding entirely. It didn't hurt much, but seeping blood is always annoying. He stood to get a patch of muslin and a tie from his dilapidated pack when she saw the wound she had inflicted. She dropped her fork into the bowl and was about to get up when Wonko almost shouted, "Stop!, just stay there, I'll take care of it, and don't apologize, it was only a misunderstanding." She looked at him, "I understand, you are afraid I'll do more damage." Wonko replied, "No, it's just that I've always..." stammering " always preferred dressing my own wounds.. old habit.. I just sorta...umm.. like to.." This reply earned him a lifted eyebrow from her, and he shrugged, "I'm just weird,okay?" She nodded as he gathered his kit from his pack and quickly dressed the wound, applying an herbal antiseptic to the cut. "Should heal in a few hours, it wasn't that bad of a wound", he said. He made a fist twice to ensure that the dressing wasn't too tight and sat back down on the cot. "Sorry about that, I've just always preferred doing just about everything for myself." Athorbalo answered, "And you've always preferred helping others to letting others help you, too." Wonko narrowed his eyes slightly, then relaxed, smiling, "You already know me too well, milady, except that I only try to help others, there are many times in the past that I have failed miserably." "Please call me by my name, Wonko, and I know that you have helped others before, I can see that in your eyes.", she smiled back at him and drew closer. Wonko saw what was coming and kissed her once on the lips, then he pulled away, she looked puzzled, but she said nothing to him about it. Night had melted slowly into dawn and Wonko realized that he had been running on nothing but adrenaline. "I will take you back to the Inn," he said, but she refused, "You are tired, and so am I, I will stay here for now." Wonko shook his head, "Please? I will take you back to the Inn." There was no arguing with her and Wonko stood, pulling his blanket from his pack and giving it to her. "Good night," he said, and walked to the opposite side of the fire, laying down with his back towards it, facing the open fields. As he slept she lay down next to him and covered them both with the blanket, they both had sweet dreams. Viking In A Strange Land (C)1993 WonkoPaedia --Trust is supported on a fundamental structure of truth. ---Yes. --You do not trust yourself? ---Yes. --How is it possible, then, to lie to yourself? ---Yes. --Ahhh..., Now I see. MagicHutchHeader From: fannicm@wkuvx1.bitnet (Master Hawk) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [TW] Moria: Seeing old friends. Message-ID: <1993Mar10.195924.6324@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 10 Mar 93 19:59:23 CST References: <1993Mar5.135420.6203@wkuvx1.bitnet> In article , zweldron@ruhets.rutgers.edu (Matthew Charlap) writes: > fannicm@wkuvx1.bitnet (Master Hawk) writes: >> 'Hey! We weren't the only survivors!' > > These words caught Ixy's attention as he started to get up. "I see you're > feeling better, Moria," he commented as he headed over to meet her. > "How are the burns? I have some salve to heal scorch marks now. I see the > 'rider managed to survive. This time, hopefully we'll be more prepared." He > gave Moria a grim smile at that last comment. > -- "Oh, Hi Ixy. I am feeling just fine, as I see you also must be. I have an idea that might allow us to make up for lost time. If I can get an image of where we are needed from the 'rider or his mount, then I much be able to teleport us there." Without waiting for a response, she raised her hand and tried to get Amachiak's attention. -=-=-=-=- Master Hawk MagicHutchHeader From: hilanse@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Slight Oops:oknoW Message-ID: <1993Mar10.230032.6332@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 10 Mar 93 23:00:32 CST Excuse the unfinished nature of the previous Wonko post. Our Vax is dying a slow death. The Wonkinator (C)1993 DestroyNorfinTrollsInc. MagicHutchHeader From: hilanse@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Wonko: Breakfast Message-ID: <1993Mar10.225851.6331@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 10 Mar 93 22:58:51 CST Wonko awoke to a blinding sun and the smell of breakfast. Covering his eyes and looking backwards he saw Athorbalo sitting on the cot looking at him. She smiled and he returned it, "You didn't have to cook breakfast, milady." Wonko stood and let the sleep fall from his limbs, he looked into the sky and saw that it was nearing noon. Athorbalo asked, "Did you sleep well?" "Yes, very much so, better than I have in a long time, in fact, how about you?" Athorbalo smiled, "I was so exhausted, I would've slept well if there were oliphaunts nearby." Wonko smiled, looked at the blanket on the ground, made a connection, and asked, "Were you not cold last night? You shouldn't have given me the blanket." She only smiled and said, "No, I was fine, and it seemed like you needed it." "What's for breakfast?", he asked. "Cheese omelets, with mushrooms,"was her reply. "It's a beautiful day, I think I'll have to go find Eldarath and make him enjoy it," Wonko grinned. "Who is Eldarath?" "Merely an old acquaintance of mine, whom I thought had died, until very recently, you shall probably meet him, he's the one who gave me the nifty hat." "You're very strange, seems like you've seen alot.", she said. "And I still know almost nothing of you, milady", he replied, "I should like to learn as much as you will tell." Wonko smiled and grabbed the spatula, tossing the omelets onto plates and salvaging the forks from last night's stroganoff. He washed these off and gave her one. Wonko took a large bite of his omelet, smiling, it tasted awful. She was definitely not domestic. Wonko finished breakfast, complimenting her cooking abilities as well as he could. He stood up, "Shall we go back into Generica?" MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: smurphy@unix1.tcd.ie (Mithrandir(S)) Subject: [Sorc] Saoirse at the Guild Message-ID: Date: Thu, 11 Mar 1993 13:30:09 GMT ADMIN: Thanks to Bernie Hsiung for providing insight and comment about the Guild. The following was approved by him. Saoirse looked about herself. The kind man called Arcadio had left her on the steps of the Guild. He had to run, to help his friends. So she waved goodbye to him, and ascended a few steps to a large door with a Gargoyle Knocker. Lifting the Knocker, she pounded it three times upon the door, feeling the vibrations through the ancient wood. She waited. Eventually, an old man came up to the door. He took one look at her attire, and bowed. "Welcome, madame. Come in, please. I will get someone for you immediately." She read his lips, and he hurried off. His expression seemed troubled by something or other. There was a mirror on the wall beside her, and Saoirse looked at herself. Her hair was a bit scraggy, and there was a streak of dirt on her left cheek. Then, she saw through the mirror that there was someone behind her dressed in officious robes. He was an elderly man, in his mid-fifties by appearances. He extended his hand in Magiran fashion, with the finger closed and the palm facing upward. She responded by placing her own palm upon his. "Greetings, Academician. To what do we owe the pleasure" She smiled, and turned her eyes away from him, gazing at a ring on her left hand index finger. It glowed bright yellow. The elder man was startled by this, but he betrayed only the barest flicker of reaction. 'Ambassador Talon?', the thoughts appeared in his mind. "Yes," her eyes gazed up at him, noting his reaction. 'Ambassador, I am Saoirse, Scholar of the Academy. I forgive this not speaking to you directlly, but you see, it is because I am -' "Stone deaf", he interrupted. She looked up a little startled now. "I remember you, all right. I was present at your final initiation, Saoirse. As I recall, the Council thought very highly of you." Saoirse smiled. Then her expression darkened. 'I have come here on a matter most urgent, Ambassador, that needs immediate aid' "What is it, child?" She signed to him reflexively, then, remembering that he couldn't read sign (at least, she assumed not), she returned to her ring. ' ... Magira is ... in the throes of Civil War' The Ambassador looked blankly at her for a second, then his eyes seemed to refocus with a sharp clarity. "Come with me, we must meet the Supreme Archmage immediately". He clapped his hands, and both vanished. Delalle sat in focused concentration in the meditation bath as the waters played over his body. How best to face the Council? he wondered. Should he tell them of his projected death? How would they react? Should he attempt to make Urcohea the Supreme Archmage? How much support did Thorn have? There was a sound like a sharp intake of breath, interrupting his thoughts. Delalle shot up out of the bath, grabbing a bathrobe and readying a spell. If now was the time, he wouldn't go down without a struggle. "Who is it?" The voice of Talon, the old retired Ambassador to Magira hailed through the oaken doors. "It is I, sir. We need to talk. Right now. On a matter most urgent indeed." "It can't wait?" "Absolutely not." Delalle emerged from the room, with his bathrobe all around him, a towel in his hair, and a pair of soft shoes that he liked to call slippers. He saw that the Ambassador had company. Of the female persuasion. And a Magiran scholar to boot. She looked a bit worn out. "Well, Talon, what seems to be the trouble ?" "You're not going to believe this, Delalle, trust me" It never rains, but it pours. Delalle began to feel a little put upon, as Saoirse began to describe the current Magiran situation. This was the third, fourth, or maybe even fifth major crisis in the current timethread. Even more upsetting was his premonition, an almost constant feeling now, that he would not get to see any of them through to their conclusion. He would have to delegate the responsibility. Talon was by far the best mage qualified to deal with any problem in Magira: the most experienced, and the most respected in Magira. If Urcohea was right, and Thorn was planning to make himself Supreme Archmage, Thorn would undoubtedly try to replace Talon with a mage who would serve his interests rather than that of Magira. Accordingly, Delalle reinstated Talon's status as Ambassador-in-Chief to Magira, got Rivy to mark him as such "for the rest of his natural life", and gave him total autonomy to act on behalf of the Guild there, responsible only to the full Council -- not to any particular Archmage or Department. It was the most he could do, but still he wondered if it was enough. Later on, Saoirse was in a room, which had been prepared for her so that she might sleep. She was worn out, and the Guild's leader had been quite trying. He'd had many questions, and looked very concerned indeed. Saoirse had told him all she knew, how the city had suddenly exploded in a shower of violence. Eventually, she went to bed, leaving Delalle and Talon talking late into the night about the day's events. The dreams came. "I am standing in the Great Hall of the Academy, amongst my fellow scholars. There is heated debate about a subject, but I am too wearied to try and sense all their thoughts at once. My eyes wander, and I notice that there are many magicians missing from the assembly today. Then I notice a disharmony that I cannot quite identify, but which is there. I see an image, and I am startled. "The image is that of a tall man, dressed in night-black robes. He is old, and I can feel his power is truly tremendous. He inspires a fear that I have not ever known before. Behind him stands a dark immeasurable force that is truly alien to my way of thinking, my perceptions. I cower in terror before him, seeking to escaping his awesome power. As I look from side to side, I see that there is a figure shrouded in darkness, with a bright, white, glowing sword. His face is Elven, but strangely bestial, and his grey clothes ragged. "I try to cry "Strike him!!", but I have no voice, and I never have had one. He looks undecided, unsure, terrified even, more of himself than of anybody. But I gaze upon him, and there is something about him that attracts me, despite his dark visage. "Then the dark robed one attacks, and I cower, but he grabs me, and.. I am back in the Hall of the Academy, where Pandemonium has broken loose. Magicians are attacking magicians! This is unthinkable. I flee, searching for the Council of Nine. What has happened in this city? She awoke trying to scream. She was breathing quickly, sharply, in a panicked state. Something grabbed her arm. Saoirse looked around in wild panic, a surge of power ready to blast away whatever it was. It was Talon. He looked worried. The energy of her spell faded, and she looked at his lips. "Dear Lady, forgive me, but we must hurry. This night, there has been reports of the fight in Magira spreading far and wide, causing untold troubles. The Guild is doing its best to keep Generica neutral." She nodded once, and got out of bed and dressed while Talon turned around, red-faced with embarassment. Then she tapped him on the shoulder. 'I am decent, Ambassador. We must leave quickly' "Um, yes. Please call me Talon." The two cast a spell of teleportation, and were gone suddenly. -- To those trying to get in touch with Mithrandir, do not email to the Address in the header. It is borrowed, cause my newsfeed has exploded. Email:tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie Thanks. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: clay@austin.ibm.com (Clay Colwell) Subject: [TW] Eski joins Amachiak Message-ID: Date: Thu, 11 Mar 1993 14:48:45 GMT In article , jpesonen@viikki.Helsinki.FI (JORMA JUHANI PESONEN (EKT)) writes: [Amachiak:] > "Oh, nothing, thank you. Err, Actually, I'm looking for some > adventurers from the lots of the Big People, for our own folk cannot venture > into the mounds of the Drag...The Swamp Monster. Nor the Lizard Things, > because they are so much bigger than our humble selves. Would you be > interrested in saving our Queen from the hands of the Swamp Monster, which > hsa kidnapped our Beloved One?" > Amachiak took a sip of the juice and looked Eski, seeking somekind > of an answer from the Gnome's face... > Eski's ruddy face was lit by a gleeful grin. "Could it be?" Eski thought. "Already the chance for adventure!" His grin widened as he remembered the thrills he'd encountered in his travels: the mine shafts of crystal that he'd explored upon his first travel, the efforts he helped put in deposing the tyrant CanCan and his evil escort the Lady Roak (he thanked GGOT(aa) for the gift of the travelling machine he'd received in spoils from that adventure), the unusual red-haired folk with powerful minds from the plane of Little Copper, the delicious fear that washed over him in the struggle against Takhis and the bipedal draconians... Eski faltered. His voice quavered a little as he spoke, "Lizard Things? As in dragon-people?" Amachiak looked at Eski oddly, his demeanor betraying a little uneasiness at the gnome's change of attitude. "No," Eski thought. "I will not let this possibility get in the way of a marvelous adventure. And a queen to rescue! Surely this squirrel-rider has spirit and courage and love driving him; I won't let the chance of dragons dissuade me from this calling." Eski shuddered, shaking off the transient doubt. "Forget I asked, sir Amachiak. I've never considered myself one of the Big People," glancing mischievously at the other patrons of the Inn, most of them twice Eski's height, "but I've mingled with them, helped them on many occasions, and have shown some little value in their struggles. If you'll have me, then gladly would I help you rescue your queen." The gleeful grin once again splitting the thick black fur of his beard, Eski asked, "What do I need to know, and when do we start?" MagicHutchHeader From: hilanse@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Bossie: Wonko: And Athorbalo: Message-ID: <1993Mar11.110014.6334@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 11 Mar 93 17:00:14 GMT The beast knew that there was something wrong. It wasn't just the blank spots in its memory, it was the helplessness that it was affected with before the blank spots ever occurred. The beast didn't appreciate being helpless. It looked through the trees, Scanning for some sort of prey. It was hungry and the bloodthirst was beginning to pound in its brain. The thirst was almost a pain, and a cloudy haze covered the world the beast lived in, until the beast smelled it. The musky odor of a large mammal wafted through its nostrils. It inhaled deeply and followed the scent. Billy the bull moose stood quietly, cropping grass. He heard rustling in the trees not too far away from him, but he wasn't worried, he was the largest moose in the forest, and he was the strongest of all the animals. The only thing Billy had to worry about was an attack from a group of other animals, and those few rustling leaves didn't sound like much to him. Billy returned to his grass cropping behavoir. Wonko and Athorbalo strolled through the woods on the way to Generica, the day was still just as beautiful, and the hanging boughs and branches covered with greenery were the perfect emphasis for it. The cool breeze meandered through the forest, stirring an occasional leaf, and making life on the whole, a bit more pleasant. Wonko was plenty happy,already, Athorbalo was wonderful, and he couldn't help but enjoy himself. They should arrive in the city in an hour or so, they had decided to take their time and relax a little. The beast crept up on its prey, silently (or so it thought) stalking its quarry. It leapt onto the back of its target, and bit deep into its neck, crushing bones, and severing its spinal cord. Billy the bull moose was no more. The beast fed, splattering itself with gore, and shredding the remains of the moose. It finished its meal and crashed off through the brush, headed for the river to wash off the scent of the prey. They had just passed under a large branch covered with mistletoe, where they kissed, when there was a loud crash off to the right. Wonko looked into the forest, searching for whatever had made the noise. Athorbalo saw nothing, but for a split second, Wonko saw something, and did not know what to make of it. There was more movement in the underbrush, and a huge splash, and then, nothing. She looked at Wonko, puzzled, and he shrugged, not knowing how to tell her that he had just seen a blood-spattered cow with large canine fangs. They continued on toward the city. There Once Was A Cow From Nantucket (C) 1993 Cud Publishing --Gross, man. ---No, kidding, like, what's he mean talking about moose entrails and stuff? --Geesh. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: c164-ez@po.berkeley.edu (Hak Lien Chua) Subject: [RATS!] Finally, the next post... Message-ID: <1993Mar11.165344.6173@pasteur.Berkeley.EDU> Date: Thu, 11 Mar 1993 16:53:44 GMT [ Hello to all our fans..yeah, both of you.. sorry we took so long... ] ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~//~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "He was around here somewhere." "What was that?" "What?" "That agonized scream that sounded like it was coming from the throat of a hairy fighter as he is agonisingly electrocuted by foul magic." "Dunno." "Oh. Probably nothing then. Hey, look theres a duck. Hi there duck. Haven't I seen you somewhere before?" "Quaaack," replied the duck mournfully. "Oh, well. You all look the same to me." "Hey! This wall is hollow! Listen!" Firgun knocked his way along the wall; tok, tok, tok, tok, doom, doom, tok, tok. "There. Did you hear? Its hollow." "Maybe. It is also the only wooden bit of wall that I have seen in these sewers." "Yeah. And look, theres a handle on it. Maybe its a secret door," suggested Firgun. "I am probably," he added modestly, "the best qualified here to spot secret doors. Had a lot of practice, you know." "Its worth a try I guess. Look around for the catch." They hunted the adjacent walls for a catch that would release the door, but to no avail. "Hey! The catch is hidden in the handle. Look, it turns." "Wow. Oh, wait a minute, there is a rune on the secret door; what does it say?" "It says it is a rune of moronic stupidity, of ten foot radius." "Oh. Probably not important, then. C'mon, open the door." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~//~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "I can't; I'm manacled to the altar," noted Git in an annoyed tone of voice. "I've met evil gods. They do like you to bow when you worship." "Oh, allright. If you insist, I shall unlock you. But be warned. I shall keep this here wand of fireball pointed at you, and one false move and you will be barbarian fritter. There. Now bow to the workbench. Altar. Bow to the altar." Git, not having much choice, bowed to the altar. There is, after all, a very large difference between being afraid and merely obeying the orders of a man who has a wand pointed at your back. "Good. Now praise the name of the great Sexegiesmal Sasslashisyx." "I can't." If he could just get to his axe... it was leaning against the other side of the altar, but if he tried to get it he would be roasted. "Not that I don't want to, but..." "Ha! You thought you could trick me into releasing you without making you worship the great Sexegiesmal Sasslashisyx, did you? Well, you can't trick me that easily! Roast alive, barbarian!" At that instant, the door at the far side of the room burst open, and three somewhat bedraggled and smelly figures burst into the room and tumbled to the bottom of the steps. "Unhand that warrior!" yelled firgun. "Quack!" added the duck. "You again! I should have known you would turn up you cheating rogues! Five hundred coffees, it took me to recover. If you want your warrior, you will have to come and get him!" replied the wizard hotly, as he cast a wildly inaccurate fireball at the group, or rather at the wall a good twenty feet to one side of them. "Quaaack!" The duck flailed madly in an attempt to stop its tail feathers from smoking. Firgun retaliated by casting his own fireball. Unfortunately, there was some small part of the spell that went wrong somewhere, as well as a few major parts, due, he later insisted, to the fact that he was still within 10 feet of the rune. A large and very surprised toad materialized, sped towards the evil wizard (it missed), and exploded violently (or at least wetly) against the far wall. Git took advantage of the confusion to grab his axe and brought the flat down on the back of the wizards head, knocking him out cold. "Quack." The duck sounded somehow satisfied. Within ten minutes they had stripped the secret laboratory of everything of value that was not nailed down. Obviously, anything they could pry loose was not "nailed down". Git found an attractive plain signet ring on the wizards finger, and took it, intending to have it carved with his initial when he got above ground. "Higar! Do you HAVE to take his robes?" asked Firgun, slightly shocked. "Silk robes. They get you a pretty fair price in the market, especially when theres no obvious stab holes in the back. Worth more, weight for weight, than rats." "And his underclothes?" "Its all silk. The guy must have been rolling in it." Firgun looked at himself. "Looks like I have too," he sighed. Git picked up the duck, balanced it on his shoulder and patted it on the head to show it how glad he was to have it back. The only thing they didn't take was the wand of fireball. Bakr explained that it was twisted, and thus could easily cast straight back at the group, rather than the correct target. Also, in the sewers, it could be far more dangerous. Written by Git {D.Morgan@bradford.ac.uk} - I think... Higar ----- It's a small world, but I wouldn't want to paint it. - Stephen Wright MagicHutchHeader Date: Thu, 11 Mar 1993 15:12:57 EST From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93070.151257ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Comments from The Dreamer Hello all, as you can read, I am back from my vacation rested and relaxed. About the Party: Due to the screwy time streams around Generica, feel free to continue the party as long as you wish or speak of it in past tense. For Luthor, the party is over (but this does not mean that he is not there smiling and talking to others)... don't ask me, if you want more info, talk to 'Raelf about simultaneous existances in alternate realities. About my vacation: I was going to go camping in the deep snows of Pennsylvania (the Highland trail), but my friend's Datusn couldn't make it through the snow, so we did the next most logical thing...we went to Atlantic City. I have said it before and I shall say it again: don't gamble against a ShadowMaker, you'll lose. Needless to say, I left Atlantic City $100 richer (I probably could have made more, but decided to quit while I was ahead). Anyway, I'm back... Love and Peace and Blackjack, -The Dreamer- ADMIN: Was I away long enough for you Mr. Wolf? MagicHutchHeader From: dnichols@engr.latech.edu (Dennis Nichols) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [G] Remember Message-ID: Date: 11 Mar 93 20:24:01 GMT Remember Me As Traveler listened to Roger a flood of memories rushed through his mind of the few places he called home. Places so far in his past it was like seeing a new world for the first time. He remembered an Oerth he visited, and a place he settled down in.... almost. He remembered putting his sword up and trying to make an "honest" living to win the affection of a women he had grown to admire. He remembered the law which outlawed a marriage of an Outworlder to a local. He remembers the enraged fiance of the woman he loved and the duel that followed. He remembers how the committee that oversees duels ruled that Travelers enhancements were used in a murderous fashion to win the hand ofa maiden and therefore punishable by death. He was accused ofmurdering a man in a legal duel, because his enhancements wereinequitable. He wasn't there to defend himself, and learned ofit in time to escape. He went to battle mode and flowed to hislove. There they made their good-byes and vowed to not forgeteach other. He can still see her tear streaked face as he openhis bag in front and began to put his gear on and made ready toleave. She gave him a holo-pic to remember her by and he gaveher a recording of his voice. He opened a hole and did not specify where he wanted to go. He ended up on Nexus. He Wandered many years just surviving. He did what he had to to get by. Finally he made up his mind to make his services available to anyone who needed help, He was a mercenary of sorts, but only took part of what loot there was and never took a job from a well-to-do upperclass person. He was right in the middle of one such plight when he found himself compelled to leave. He had mete justice out and was on his way back to his hole in the wall. He rode for several days, over mountains, through deserts, across seas, and even underground to get to Generica to meet his companions. His mind was awash with sights and sounds. All of a sudden he saw a vision of a middle aged woman playing a tape. The woman was weeping. Her faced was deeply etched with trouble. Suddenly the name he hadn't spoken in years escaped from his mouth.... Ruoksian. He Realized that their paths were to cross soon. His heart filled with a feeling long forgotten. He looked up and saw Roger looking at him. He noticed Thorr-kann was missing. "Roger.... I know the place we are going", He hissed. MagicHutchHeader From: rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Kyar] Enter Semian Peltor Message-ID: <1993Mar11.173337.6343@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 11 Mar 93 17:33:37 CST Early in the evening, a hooded figure entered the inn. The figure was dressed in rich red robes, with a full hood, and carried a staff of a material that appeared to be obsidian, topped with a bright red crystal. Littlefair approached the figure. "Can I help you?" he asked. "Yes, I am in need of a room. Do you have any available?" the figure replied in what seemed to be a male voice. Littlefair gave the man a key, and directions to the room, and tehn moved back behind the bar. The hooded man moved to the bulletin board, noting several of the more interesting messages. One small post caught his eye-- "NEEDED: MASTER OF THE WAY"--. "Hmmm." he said to himself. "Perhaps this warrior and I can be of mutual benefit to one another...", and moved off towards the room number given on the note. -------------------------- Jason Rosenberger, rosenje@wkuvx1, Western Ky University, Earth MagicHutchHeader From: stegehe@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Clarabell: An Interlude Message-ID: <1993Mar11.191102.6346@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 11 Mar 93 19:11:01 CST They watched the sun slowly sink behind the hills and the fiery glow on th elake fade into darkness. He eyed her shadowy figure, accentuated by the moonlight, as the tension from within began to fuel his animalistic desires. She followed him, ever so quietly, as they sought a secluded corner in the barn. Alone! At last. His hands roamed about her soft back, around to her thighs, and finally caressing her budding nipples. Oh, how smooth and succulent she was! "Was is so wrong?", he asked himself. No, he thought, for his father had done it, as did his father, ad infinitum. The boiling, uncontrollable rage within him became unbearable. She signalled her eagerness, spreading her legs, as he grasped her nipples again. Stroking, again and again, longer each time. It began coming; again, again, again, again. His mind raced with the fear "Will it stop?". Exhausted, he lay down beside her. "Dear God, what have I done?". Suddenly, his father burst in. His eyes burned as he stared for what seemed an eternity. Finally, his father spoke. "Son, you ain't supposed to milk the damn cow till mornin'!" FOR ALL YOU COW LOVERS OUT THERE. MagicHutchHeader From: hilanse@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Wonko:Athorbalo:Bossie:&Eldarath: Message-ID: <1993Mar11.191250.6347@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 11 Mar 93 19:12:50 CST It was late afternoon, when Wonko and Athorbalo heard another sound. It was that of a strong wind, a very strong wind. Wonko turned to face the noise and as he did, he and Athorbalo were lifted from the ground and carried into the clouds. In another section of the city, a similar thing happened to Eldarath, who was sucked up into a twister. There were yet other reports, those of a sopping wet flying cow with fangs being drawn into the heavens. Only a few sages knew what had happened, and they answered the city's declarations that these were bad omens. The explained that it was Daytonus, the God of Spring Break, calling to comfort those who were due a little rest. The sages proclaimed that it would only be a short time (a week) before Daytonus would return those whose stress he had relieved. (Have a nice spring break if ya got one, and have a nice weekend if ya don't, from Susan, Scott, and Howard.) (Athorbalo, Wonko & Bossie, and Eldarath) The Big Vacation (C)1993 GoingNowhere Publishing --Why does this moron do this to us. ---Do what? --Why does he prolong our suffering? ---You mean, why does he make us wait? --No, I mean, why does he keep posting? MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [AU][Inn]'Raelf,ar'Elya,Andrea,Unicorn: the walrus said to talk... Message-ID: Date: Fri, 12 Mar 1993 08:36:07 GMT [the time has come, the walrus said to talk, of many things]... "I'd be happier if it felt like things were settling down, Raye." (click) "'Raelf, there's nothing you can do about it from here-and-now." "I found the keel and the transitor and four partially blasted runes." (clack. clack) "So what does it mean to us?" (click. Click, click) "I can't really say. There's so much happening, and I still can't see any of the branch around the Mage Guild." "Who was he, anyway. You didn't really say." "Well, the others all called him `silken' and LittleFair said he was another one of the dark-corners crowd. He's not from Nexus, really. I tried to follow his traces from a few months back, saw him in action. Very competent cat-burglar, semicompetent psychic - couldn't ever tell when he was going to be idiot or savant. Had the usual array of magic unbeatable weapons and stuff. Stereotype of the jack of all trades." (clack) "Oh? Into archetypes, you say?" "I think he dabbled in everything, but never stayed with anything." (click) "Why would he choose to dabble in vampirism?" (clack) "Who knows? He made noises like he didn't want to be, but he sure seemed to enjoy using the weedy. Anyway, I hope the safety field stayed on long enough to kick him back into reality." "What ruined the board?" (tap, tap, tap, tap. clunk.) "Combination of things. I think he either got hit by the Sorc's wards, or he actually caught his attention and got blasted. The protections should have held it off, but then I didn't expect the local gods to start dying out of turn. Weakened it. Then the turbulence has been so much worse lately, and it's rippling backtimewards. Board probably blew along the discriminator array." "Are you bored?" "Yes. This game is no fun. Can I burn it?" (clatter, clatter, click) "Sure." <> FOOOMF - the board and tiles exploded in flames, infernal but contained above the marble tabletop. A wisp of white smoke rose, drifting on the wind over the garden, and across the lighthouse wall. "Why did you think that game would be fun, 'Raelf?" "I thought it was different. Chinese Scrabble, who'd expect them to do it in their own alphabet?" "I guess. Hey, I'm hungry. Free Lunch?" ar'Elya flickered briefly between her two more athletic base-roles, before settling on the Amazon form of A'ree, with the requisite wolf appearing from nowhere. "How we gonna get there? I don't want to use the gate." "Could race. Could skate." "Yah! Come on!" 'Raelf sprinted towards the tower where their gear was stored. After a ten minute mostly-invisible race across the skies above the Low City the air in front of the Inn flashed with faint blue flames as three figures emerged into the street. The two human figures looked dubiously at the third; a wolf wearing inline skates, even modified for canine feet, looks very odd. "You could have been a Hawk, Critter. Raye, why wasn't he a hawk?" "Why weren't you a hummingbird? Cut some slack, jack." They helped the lupine to dismount the skates, and approached the door. "Careful, guys. Alita's got the door boobytrapped." "Right." The warm air from the Inn washed over them, causing the wolf to sneeze. <> "This IS the Dragon's Inn, Critter. Strange is a way of life here." Rowan smiled as 'Raelf approached the bar. "Here to get your free lunches?" "Yah. Raye's being polite, decided to be daintier today. So you don't have to put another cow on the grill." "I'm relieved, lad. Say, do you know anything about thiii... What's your wolf doing?" "Uh, Raye?" In response, she looked over and whistled. The wolf had gone over to the table 'Raelf usually took, one by the small fireplace near the front door, but instead of sitting, he was very carefully whiffling at the heels of something that 'Raelf could have sworn was the kiester-end of a Unicorn. ar'Elya went over to speak to the human who was sharing a table with it. "Rowan, is that a for-real Unicorn sitting, er, standing, in my usual spot?" "I believe so. She's been drinking milk." "Oh. Uh, what was your question?" "Why have I had four people appear in here from Ak-Ir-Neg, and why have I had people calling me `LittleTrill', and why did one of them tell me to ask you about it?" "Uh, right. You remember Alita, the blue-lady who went off to hunt for the shrunken-giant's dragon with us?" "Yes. Be careful of her, I suspect she's a succubus." "That would be almost correct. Anyway, she's living over flipside now. She's opened a bar there, exact spot as here, but it's cursed to violence instead of blessed to peace. She and a friend of hers decided to `help' you out, by creating a correspondence-gate between their inn and yours. She does a wicked good impression of you, by the way." Rowan scowled, thinking of the damage to his reputation and his clients. "And this gate takes people who are peaceful and boring there, and shunts them over here, and sends violent people over there." "Right, sort of, when it really works right. I'm almost sure the Knight and his Lady Blaze got sent there once by mistake, for instance." "Well. I'm not sure I want my clients being snatched away." "I'll see what I can do about it." "Give it a week, lad. I might decide I like the arrangement." "Whatever. Hey, could you be out of Catamount Porter today? I think Raye's having flashbacks from the stuff." "Well, normally no, but I DO happen to be out of the Cat today." "Way cool. See ya." 'Raelf went over to the table and joined Raye, who was apologizing to the young dark-haired, dark-skinned woman at the table. "He doesn't usually get this fresh, ma'am." The young lady in question continued to glance nervously at the wolf. There was a small dagger within easy reach on the table, but she didn't appear to be too predisposed toward using it, which seemed to be a good sign. The small unicorn had turned and was peering curiously toward this creature that was sniffing at her, though she didn't seem too wor- ried. "Well, Sheryl doesn't seem to mind," the woman said at last. "May we join you here for lunch? Our usual table is occupied," ar'Elya nodded, indicating the place where the Unicorn was standing. The dark-clothed woman shrugged. "If you like." Then, sensing that perhaps introductions were in order, she added, "My name is Andrea, and my...friend here is Sheryl." "I'm ar'Elya. This blond fellow here is 'Raelf, my housepet. The wolf is Critter, and if he doesn't behave himself I'm going to skin him for a coat, got it, Critter?" She drew a dagger threateningly. 'Raelf bowed greetings, and grinned at Andrea's cautious expression. "Ignore her, please, she's not herself today. She'd sooner skin her own self as cut into her Critter. Or skin me." "That's not funny. When's the food showing up, we're starved." The wolf growl-whined in agreement. "Just here," Mary LittleFair said, delivering a big bowl of crisply fried potatoes to the center of the table, and setting down a mug of blackjack cider. "The meat'll be here as soon as it hits blood temperature." "Great. Oh, hey, Andrea, would you like to share lunch with us? Tell a few stories, we can find out what a nice 'corn like this is doing in a place like this. Hey, you better be careful here, there's parts of town where they'd mug you, chop the horn off your friend, and sell the two of you off to the Rameshanders in half-a-second." Andrea nodded, in a manner which suggested that she knew all about places like that. "Yes, I've had that experience." 'Raelf tasted one of the fried potato sticks and looked around the table, searching for something missing. "Where's the ketchup and salt?" Andrea picked up the dagger and made it disappear with some impressive sleight of hand that seemed to come naturally to her. She stroked Sheryl's neck gently. "This may sound like an...odd question, but what is this place? The city, I mean, not just the pub." 'Raelf looked up from the unsatisfactory fries and said, "It's called Generica." At this, Andrea looked up. "Generica..." she murmured. "At last. What a long, strange trip it's been." Sheryl perked up too, at mention of the name. "So, what brings you to this town?" 'Raelf asked. "Oh, just a little problem I need to solve. Nothing, really." Andrea sighed. "Do you know if there is anywhere around here that I could find a room for the night?" 'Raelf toyed with the fried potato sticks and said, "I believe Rowan Littlefair has some rooms for rent. Or you can look for something on the bulletin board over there." He pointed to a space on the wall of the staircase, by the door. It was plastered with a few dozen notices, some quite new, others tattered and fading. "Thanks." Andrea got up. "Save my seat, Sheryl." The little unicorn nickered an affirmative, and hopped up onto the bench seat vacated by Andrea. She tucked her legs under her and lay down, looking so pleased with herself that it elicited a chuckle from 'Raelf and ar'Elya. Andrea almost smiled, then walked over to the bulletin board. It was filled with notices of all sorts--quests unfinished, help wanted, rooms to let, etc. Then one fairly new announcement caught her eye, and her eyes widened. "Raoh..." she breathed. She reached out and pulled it down, then carried it back to the table. She walked as if dazed, and her eyes betrayed the inner turmoil she was feeling. While Andrea had been reading the board, someone had apparently brought some ketchup and salt by; 'Raelf had been raising a red-tipped potato fry to his mouth when Andrea sat back down, looking like she was under a spell. "Hey, are you all right?" he asked, the fry forgotten. "Raoh..." she murmured, staring at the notice gripped within her hand. "That bastard..." She let the notice fall to the table, and suddenly a dagger appeared through the center of it with a THONK! that startled everyone at the table, Sheryl included. Now that the note was on the table, 'Raelf and ar'Elya could see that it was the poster advertising for adventurers to seek out and destroy the tyrant Raoh, who supposedly had the power to raze entire towns with a wave of his hand. "Andrea..." 'Raelf said gently. "Andrea?" Sheryl looked concerned. Andrea wasn't listening. She was in her own world, her eyes betraying the agony she was feeling inside. She reached down the front of her tunic and brought out a silver locket. She flipped it open, looked at whatever was inside, and the tears started to flow. "Oh, Sheryl..." she half-sobbed, and the small unicorn nuzzled her gently. She lowered her head to the table and sat there crying silently, the force of the sobs shaking her body. 'Raelf looked embarrassed, and would have moved to comfort her but ar'Elya stopped him. "No," she said. "Look at her. Combat fatigue. Survivor syndrome, she's been hiding something from herself for too long. Let her cry it out." Reluctantly, 'Raelf agreed, and Andrea's sobs gradually subsided, until she was silent. "She's fallen asleep," ar'Elya observed. 'Raelf got up, and walked over to Littlefair. "Got a crash pad? Lady needs to sleep." He tossed him a gold piece. "Of course," Littlefair said, indicating the place. "Right through there, second doorway on the right." "Thanks." 'Raelf walked back over to the table and gently picked the sleeping thief up. Sheryl moved as if to stop him, but he said, "Don't worry, little 'corn, I'm not going to harm her." He carried her to the room, Sheryl trailing behind him. As he laid her on the bed and pulled the cover up over her, he noticed that she was still clutching the locket. Curious, he gently disengaged her hand from the necklace and examined it. The locket had two small drawings in it, rendered in color by some skilled artist--probably done at some travelling carnival for a few copper pieces, he reflected. On the left was a picture of a young teenaged girl who had to be Andrea ten years or more ago. She certainly looked happy, nothing like the world-weary woman whose neck the locket hung around. In the other side was a younger blonde-haired girl, perhaps about 8 or 10 years of age. 'Raelf snapped the locket shut and tucked it back inside Andrea's collar before pulling the covers up to her neck. "Pleasant dreams," he said before walking out, leaving a small unicorn standing sentinel at the foot of the bed. -- [ADMIN] This is a joint post, by Chris Meadows and me. If you want to comment to Chris, send mail to one of CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU The characters: "Silken" is owned by Mithrandir (TKelly) and is slandered here without explicit permission. "Andrea" and "Sylvia" are owned by Chris Meadows and appear here by special arrangement. "Raoh" is a guest villain owned by Chris (Wolvie) Motherway and appears in cameo by special arrangement. 'Raelf and ar'Elya are mine, all rights reserved, etc. MagicHutchHeader From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Sorc] Ejected from Time Message-ID: Date: 12 Mar 93 12:27:05 GMT Darkness. Peaceful darkness, surrounding, encompassing, protecting. A Dream. "I am standing, floating in the darkness. I sense menace. Looking about me from side to side, I noticve occasional glimmers of light flickering here there and everywhere. There is a smell like a beach. But no sound. Then I hear a dreadful sound. Like a clarion horn, very sharp, rude, without grace. Then I see ... HIM! I do not know his name. He is my nemesis. I remember him from that time with Kron, and the vision. Here stands that same being, wearing the countenance of a human. But is he? He radiates Power as I have never seen before. The Beast within me growls loud and harsh. It seeks escape. But where do I escape to? Behind the man there is something I cannot understand. It is alien in thoughts, like trying to think as an insect. Yet it's Power is untold. I draw my sword. NightHawk glows a bright light, a shining light, radiating out, casting the darkness back. I smile. But the man, my nemesis is watching a young woman. She sees me, and seems to scream at me. There is no sound. She is standing on the edge of an unknown place, where light emanates from as a portal. The nemesis raises his hands, and hails the very heavens. They answer with a thunder that could deafen anyone. It jars me straight to the brain. The Beast howls in answer, reeling back and forth, back and forth. The Frenzy overcomes me." On a rooftop, in Generica, Silken awoke in a Frenzy, lashing out at the ne nearest things he could find, a chimney. He pounded the rocks, growling in a manically insane way. After a few moments, he came to his senses. He was standing on the very rooftop that he had left, but it was a diffrent time. He could sense this fact above all else. He looked about himself. 'Raelf's device lay shattered into many little bits all about him. "Now what the hell do I do?", he said out loud, but to himself. He had burns all along his left arm. They would heal, but slowly. From below, in the building, there were noises. "What the hell is goin' on up there?", shouted a voice of an elderly man. The Beast stirred. Silken realised that he was hungry. It had been at least a day since he had last fed on living blood. Without wanting to, he gazed over the side of the building, at the old man. "You! Gerrof my roof, d'ya hear, or I'll be callin' the Guard!" The last thing the old man remembered was a figure leaping off his roof and grabbing him by the neck, pushing him inside and biting his neck. His wife had screamed. Silken looked at the two drained bodies. He wiped his lips, and the Beast was content for now. Why? Why did I kill them? Why? He just didn't know the answer. But he would have to get rid of the bodies. Taking one in both arm, he simply vanished into the night -- 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 MagicHutchHeader From: zweldron@ruhets.rutgers.edu (Matthew Charlap) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [TW] Moria: Seeing old friends. Message-ID: Date: 12 Mar 93 15:04:14 GMT References: <1993Mar5.135420.6203@wkuvx1.bitnet> <1993Mar10.195924.6324@wkuvx1.bitnet> fannicm@wkuvx1.bitnet (Master Hawk) writes: > "Oh, Hi Ixy. I am feeling just fine, as I see you also must be. I have >an idea that might allow us to make up for lost time. If I can get an >image of where we are needed from the 'rider or his mount, then I much be >able to teleport us there." > Without waiting for a response, she raised her hand and tried to get >Amachiak's attention. "it is good that you are feeling well. If you can get us in faster it would be much better, but remember, they may have defenses against this sort of thing- after all they did hav emages of their own..." [ADMIN: next week is spring break, so Ixy will be quiet for the next 9 days of real time.] -- --Matthew Charlap ------------------------------------------------------------- This is STILL a test of the .signature If this were a real .sig file, something else would be here, not just a name. MagicHutchHeader From: jcp@trident.usacs.rutgers.edu (Jonathan Petersen) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [Ga] Hawksholme... Message-ID: Date: 12 Mar 93 15:10:54 GMT References: Camp. Mist. Cave. Zebron looked around. Yes, definately some sort of translocation spell. Caught the rest of the party, too. Damn. Innate magic resistance must have failed again. The group scanned their new surroundings. Some with the bewilderment and wonder of their first translocation. Others looking for an advantage if they were forced to battle here. Others with confusion as to why this bald, tatooed hermit summoned them, only to be answered by the form of Garriot, lying in some sort of shimmering silver aura behind the hermit. The eyes of the dark elf took in all this. The silver aura was interesting. >The old man nodded to them and spoke: "Greetings," he said, in a surprisingly >strong baritone voice, "I am Jaru." The spell had left Zebron closest to the hermit, so he decided to answer. "Well met," responded the drow mage, "I am Zebron Twilight, the Silver Sword of Eilistraee. Myself and my companions -" (gesturing towards the rest of the group) "- are friends of the man behind you." Sitting down in one of the chairs in the sparsely furnished cave in order to cut some of the tension, he continued: "You have apparently just summoned us here. If I were you, I'd start explaining. Make it quick, and make it good. You'll find us much more willing houseguests if we know what in Limbo is going on." Zebron tried to sound confident. His words were not a threat. Just a statement. Old hermits tended to ramble, in his experience, at least. The elf wanted answers, and he wanted them soon. He was a man that armed himself primarily with knowledge, and not knowing had him at a disadvantage. "Please, what is going on?" -jak MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kinsman@jupiter.sun.csd.unb.ca (Aphoriel/Kinsman) Subject: [Kal & Co] Meeting Wizard Ivy Message-ID: <1993Mar12.222911.12419@jupiter.sun.csd.unb.ca> Date: Fri, 12 Mar 1993 22:29:11 GMT MagicHutchHeader Message-Id: <9303122206.AA13420@maple.oslab.cs.unb.ca> Two hours after Denner's wagon broke through the forest, the group arrived at Ivy's keep. It was late afternoon, and the overcast sky was a deep gray which was rapidly darkening, giving a gloomy air to the seaside keep. The keep itself was rather small and humble.. not too much more than a tower, about twenty feet, built from squarely hewn stones of a pale color. Kalendraf surveyed the keep and cast a doubtful look at Denner. The young man may have meant well when he suggested this Wizard Ivy, and apparently had a high respect for her; but to Kalendraf, Ivy's keep didn't look like the keep of a powerful alchemist.. it looked more like the keep of a local hedge wizard. Scott voiced Kal's concern. "This is Ivy's place? I thought she was a _good_ alchemist, Denner.." "She is!" Denner turned back, with a note of defensiveness in his voice. "You don't have to have to a great big shiny tower to be the best, Scott. Ivy's never concerned herself much with any wizardly politics or social matters, and this keep's all she's ever needed to do her work." The wagon rolled up to the door of the keep, and Denner hopped out and walked up the short stone steps to the entrance, taking the knocker in his hand and rapping it loudly on the wooden door. "Good afternoon, Denner! I'm right behind you..." Denner and the others (save Scott, who had been paying attention to Ivy's coming) turned to see a white-robed woman wearing a straw hat and carrying a walking stick strolling up the path to the door. She grinned from underneath her hat at Denner's surprised, and waved a free hand to him. "Hello, Ivy! I didn't see you come up." "No, you didn't.. I was going for a walk down to the village before I started dinner. I'm sorry, Denner.. I knew you were coming, but you were late and I stopped bothering to wait for you. Good day..." Wizard Ivy gave a casual nod to the others. "Are these friends of yours, Denner? It's good to see you've finally gotten about to making some..." "Oh, well." Denner searched for words. "Sorry about being late, and as for these people.. well, reasons for those are both the same thing, and I think I'd rather wait a bit before I explained everything to you..." Ivy nodded, her graces fading slightly as she tried to decipher Denner's statement. "Whatever you say, Denner." The alchemist peered over the wagon's edge to look inside at the barrels that Denner had brought for her. E'Karam woke up from the nap he had been taking with a snort, and opened his eyes to come face to face with a surprised woman wearing a straw hat. E'Karam blinked. "Excuse me, miss.. did you know that your hair's green?" "Goodness!" Ivy started back from the strange creature, then blinked a few times to refind her bearings. "Ah yes, this. Don't you have any second thoughts about it!" The Wizard Ivy removed her hat to reveal a tide of curly green locks. "This is just a little experiment I had when I was young and vain.. maybe it'll come out someday, but I'm quite used to it now and won't be changing it." "Hey, that's no problem!" E'Karam peeked out from the wagon's edge and placed his elbows on the wheel guard. "I think it really suits you." "Why, thank you!" Ivy tucked her staff under the crook of her arm and extended a hand in greeting to the purple creature. "And I'm sure you're quite handsome for your species, too. Your name is...?" "E'Karam." the tentacled monster replied. Then he looked down at Ivy's hand and shook it as an afterthought. "Pleased to meet you." Scott shifted in his seat in the wagon and looked up at the overcast sky. "Well, nice to meet you, Wizard Ivy, but maybe we can talk later. It's about to rain and I don't want any of my equipment here getting wet if I can help it..." Ivy turned to the mercenary, then to Denner. "I'll explain later." Denner said. Ivy sighed. "Fine by me then. Denner, take the wagon to the stables. The rest of you gentlemen will have to sleep on the floor, I don't have provisions for more than one guest at a time... (Ivy looked them over) but I suppose that's not too much of a problem for your sort. Denner, we'll take care of the barrels next morning, it's getting dark out early today with the clouds, and we need to be able to see." Denner nodded. "Yes, ma'am!" Denner got back into the wagon and sent it rolling towards the stables. As the wagon turned the corner out of sight, Ivy crossed her arms and pondered. For all the months she knew Denner, she always considered him to be a lonely sort- a bit sad, a bit polite, a bit too concerned for the feelings of others, and most of all too reserved to make friends. She had held hope that one day Denner might change for the better- and had thought when she saw the wagon that Denner had- but now it looked like Denner had just gone and gotten himself in some sort of trouble, his personality winning over his common sense... The group walked around the corner on foot, each carrying part of Scott's valued equipment. Kalendraf walked up to Ivy. "Wizard Ivy, could you please show us to where we could lay this equipment down?" Ivy nodded with a slight frown. "Yes, yes.. go upstairs and lay it all down in the corner of my quarters." Ivy stopped and looked carefully at Kal's amulet. "That's an interesting amulet... name?" "Kalendraf." "Yes. Is it magical by any chance? Your mouth didn't seem quite right with what you were saying..." Kalendraf nodded. "Yes, it is. Thank you, Wizard Ivy, we'll take this upstairs.." "All right. And please, I'm an alchemist, only the village children call me a wizard.." "Yes, I know, Denner has explained it to me." Kalendraf called from the staircase inside the keep. "Ah." Ivy stopped Denner, who was the last in line. "Denner, did the toxins come through alright?" Denner looked down at the ground. "No. One barrel was lost." Ivy was greatly surprised at Denner, but refused to let it show. "Really? You're usually so careful about that.. Dear me, what happened? You must be feeling awful about it..." "I'll have to explain later, it's got to do with everything else today..." "And that man, Kalendaf, what was he doing with a magic amulet?" "I'll explain _later_." Denner turned and shuffled the equipment up the stairs. Ivy looked up at Denner as he walked up the staircase into the shadow. This was unusual for him. She hoped that Denner wasn't trying to take advantage of her good nature by dragging in trouble for her... Ivy looked up at the sky and frowned. Rain. Cold seashore rain tonight. She always hated this sort of weather... Kalendraf ran down the staircase, stripped to the waist. He ran down to the seashore in front of Ivy's wondering eyes and started waving at the sky, "Come on! Come on! Hurry up and rain, I've been waiting for this all day already!" Ivy raised an eyebrow at the strange man. Obviously, Denner would explain later. -Aphoriel/Kinsman Sean Givan Ivy MagicHutchHeader From: foleye@xanth.CS.ORST.EDU (Stilt Man) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] Search for a Shroud Date: 13 Mar 1993 04:57:14 GMT Message-ID: <1nrpjaINN1mu@flop.ENGR.ORST.EDU> [ADMIN: This tale takes place quite a great many worlds away from Generica, but I post it anyway for curiosity's sake . . . among other things.] In the city of Dabar Roc, capital of the Empire of Thyaris, the seven walls of the city were quite forbidding to those who sought to pass in or out of the city unwatched or unwanted. They formed a concentric mass, each high above the craggy mountain that formed their foundation. One large jagged wall of stone, created not by the hands of man or the powers of magic but of nature, extending from the peak toward the southeastern end of the city, cast a long shadow from the moonlight inside all seven wards of the city. Huge tunnels had been burrowed beneath, such that one could go from one side to the other without circumnavigating the entire city. But the top of this sheer wall of rock had been sheared off, as if some titanic sculptor had cleft it off with a huge scythe. The edges were walled, with arrow slits perforating it, such that a city guard could walk from the thousand-foot Great Tower at the city's center out on this bisecting bastion and make himself a threat to anyone anywhere in the city near the gates between wards. Many great vaults were hidden beneath the city, and could reach all seven wards, yet could be cut off from one another to prevent their use against the defenders, should an outer ward fall. Moreover, any creature who thought to defeat the purpose of the walls on the surface by flying over them would find that the garrisons here could still protect themselves, by simply hiding underground. An invading army would stand virtually no chance of ever taking all seven wards, and the vaults that lay beneath them, nor the bisection in the southeast part of the city. No army ever had wrested the city from its owners. It was not unheard of to lure enemies within the outer wards, thinking they had won, only to be trapped between the creatures lurking in the vaults, and the archers above. For in the empire of Arcania Dorval, not all the warriors were human. Daemons, the bards called the Dark One's minions, for their resemblance to the demons of the Great Adversary of Old was great, but for one difference. The Adversary had drawn his dreadful slaves from the spirits of the world in its infancy, while all of Arcania's servants had once been mortal men. Yosef reflected on this as he strode through the third ward of the city, glad for the long shadow of the bastion above from the moonlight. He had reason to dislike the light at this particular time. He was a member of the city's underground, one of the few rebels that existed in Thyaris. For when Arcania learned of such a network, the rebels had an uncanny consistency in denouncing their own previous actions, and the rest of the city lived on, content that the criminals had been enlightened of the error in their ways. Yosef despised it. None were more hopelessly enslaved than those who believed they were free. Yosef saw the man behind him, but it was just a man. Not one of Arcania's daemons. Yet he knew he would be a fool to believe that all of Arcania Dorval's servants were inhuman. If the man were indeed a spy, a tail, the network could be exposed if Yosef were followed to their gathering place. But Yosef had encountered many of these sorts of situations before. Thieves were virtually unheard of in Thyaris--that much could Yosef credit the Dark One for--but they did sometimes prey upon the unwary. Yosef had been a night traveller long enough to know how to deal with such. A left turn, a quick duck into a dark alley, and the stranger passed. If he had been following Yosef, he had lost him, for he took no notice of the eyes watching him from the alley as he walked by. Yosef waited for a few minutes. The stranger might double back, to take him unawares when he might have thought he was safe. Yosef gazed out into the street, intently waiting for the sound of the man's possible return. . . . Yessss. Just keep watching that direction, little man . . . The leathery brown feet on the rooftop overlooking the alley made no sound whatsoever. The yellow glittering eyes of the beast fixated on the man just as intently as the prey was watching the alley in vain for the decoy. Dark- veined wings spread, silent gliding down into the alley . . . The four long, thick fingers on the creature's hand closed about Yosef's throat. The victim fought, but his stealthful assailant was far stronger than he. The struggle was swift and silent. =-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-= The view from the top of the Great Tower was breathtaking, especially in the moonlight. The man lying on the bed thought the few of the woman at the window was far more breathtaking. Her figure was tall, leonine muscularity blending well with feminine curves. Platinum-blonde hair flowed to the small of her back, sapphire blue eyes sparkled in the light of the twin moons of the world of Arghan. She wore a red robe, belted at the waist, and simple brown sandals. The man on the bed wore nothing. For it was he who was slave, she who was master here. A whimper distracted the attention of Arcania Dorval from her silent thought. She turned to the man on the bed. Most women would have thought him amazingly handsome, and might well have slain to have him as subdued as Arcania did. He was an insect. He was irritating with this display of complaint. Sapphire blue eyes bore into his pale green eyes, and the arcane secrets of antiquity mixed with the fury of destroying cities and ending nations in her fierce glare. The man shrank away from her, fearing for his life, indeed his very soul, in that moment. His lips pleaded soundlessly for forgiveness, and he seemed as though he wished he could melt into the satin sheets, anything to flee from this one in her wrath. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when a knock came at the door, and her attention was diverted. Almost. He refrained from doing so, for it would cost him much more than his job. An opening of the door. Arcania quietly discussing with the dark shape outside. The man kept his eyes away from the doorway. He had no wish to gaze upon the wraithlike daemon that conferred with the Dark One now. She stepped back from the door, with a glance at him again. The command was silent, but unmistakable, in her gaze. He meekly gathered up his robe and departed. She turned and strode back into the room, seated on her bed, and fixed her gaze upon the new man who entered. The wraith retreated, leaving them to confer in silence. The man was Yosef. Arcania had had her eyes on this one for some time, knowing that he was a member of the underground in Dabar Roc. She allowed him to believe his network was secret, that his connections were unknown. Then the Thurlan had appropriated him. But the new the creature told her now was disappointing. Yosef's network, all now languishing in the deepest vaults of Dabar Roc enduring their own interrogations--as Yosef himself had--had no links to the Shrouded One. Rumor had run amongst some of the others the Thurlans had caught that the Shrouded One had established this group as an intelligence-gathering agency in Arcania's home city. The lack of any link proved the foolishness of any such idea on her enemies' part. All that happened within the city was quite open to the Dark One's eyes. Yet if Yosef had no link, then what had become of the Shrouded One? Where had she gotten to? Arcania Dorval dismissed the Thurlan, and was alone in her bedroom once more. This bore some thinking. Perhaps the plants elsewhere might bear fruit. The Shrouded One travelled many nations, many worlds. Apprehending her would be no mean feat. But Arcania Dorval had not become Empress of Thyaris, twice, by accomplishing merely mean feats. +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ + Kryalla Simuel the Shrouded One + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ + foleye@xanth.cs.orst.edu + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ MagicHutchHeader Date: Friday, 12 Mar 1993 14:48:15 EST From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93071.144815344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Party] Lancos: Date with Desire [ADMIN: As opposed to Date with Destiny, or Date with Delirium for that matter {:-)!}. Thanks to Jill for the use of her char if not "consent" to the actual words. This is set after Darvos leaves but before Alfvaen appears...] Arienne smiled in anticipation. Finally, she and this Lancos fellow had met, and they were finally alone. Not that he was exactly vital, she assured herself, nothing several other possible targets among the crowd. To some her viewpoint might have seemed cruel, but in reality she was executing her own form of poetic justice. It had been a while since Arienne had been forced to kill her long-abusive husband on threat of her own life, but such wounds did not heal easily. She now used thievery and deception and her... er, natural assets to "abuse" -- in her own way -- the men she came across, leaving them less wealthy and cocky but nevertheless happy and usually wishing for more in an almost subservient way. And Lancos might be her next "case", and a special one at that. She had heard many things about him, mainly dealing with the quest he had been on. Of course, such tales got warped to such a degree that she wouldn't be surprised if there was a version circulating part of the town where a sneeze of Lancos' at the appropriate time had saved the day. Nevertheless, he was intriguing. She gave an encouraging wink to Darovs as he left -- best not to dissuade a possible future client -- and advanced a bit on Lancos. She smelled alcohol wafting on his breath, and nearly drew back in a mix of disappointment and rethinking. Her victory was sweeter when the persuasion came solely from her own means. Still, she felt she might as well make firm contact. She saw Lancos looking sort of guilty as Darvos left, and smiled that at least he wasn't uncaring. "Don't worry about him." she said, trilling the "r" as a kitten might purr, "I'm more interested in your welfare anyway." "Me?" Lancos said modestly, with a tinge of returned interest intermingled. "Of course -- how silly of me." Arienne responded, interpreting the comment as a bit of bravado. Again the "r" sound was slightly extended. "I'm sure anyone who can handle a succubus' charms can take care of himself. Either that or he has someone else..." "Oh, you heard about that, eh?" Lancos frowned. "Alita didn't use her full powers on me. If she had, you probably would've never met me. But some force caused her to feel something similar to love and caring for me. It was the idea that she was too aggressive at just plain the wrong time that prevented anything, not someone else. In fact, she helped me put a past love in the proper 'perspective'; she certainly left a lasting impression. And a good one at that, lest you think her memory fills me with naught but angst." Arienne nodded with interest, glad for the information. That was one benefit of alochol: it seemed to make people more glib. She was content that he had no other, lest she indirectly harm another woman. And she otherwise might have been brutally forward, and anything less than everything her target might want in a woman -- a women he could never really have, of course -- wouldn't be as emotionally satisfying. "Well, then, perhaps I could walk you home, as someone in your state shouldn't be alone on the streets where he could get robbed." she said, providing an opening wide enough to direct a dragon through. But the alcohol betrayed Lancos, adding more to his ego -- perhaps fueled by his earlier wont -- than his sex drive. "Nah, I'm still standing, so I'll be fine. Besides, most of my wealth is in Littlefair's able hands right now." That was the fianl straw for Arienne. She knew Littlefair or Listener or someone would prevent Lancos from using his money "unwisely". "Well, I'll just mingle some more then." "I hope I'll see you again soon." Lancos said, sort of trying to make a last-minute save. "Oh, you can count on it!". Arienne smiled, and blew him a kiss she knew would give him a bit of hope. And then she left. Because she wanted solely _her_ charms to affect him; because he seemed to like romance slower; because she'd get more money by waiting; all the while denying to herself the degree of attraction her subconscious knew she felt for him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader From: starride@nighthawk.ksu.ksu.edu (David Chase) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [Kal & Co] Meeting Wizard Ivy Date: 13 Mar 1993 11:08:35 -0600 Message-ID: <1nt4ejINNt6o@nighthawk.ksu.ksu.edu> References: <1993Mar12.222911.12419@jupiter.sun.csd.unb.ca> Two hours after Denner's wagon broke through the forest, the group arrived at Ivy's keep. It was late afternoon, and the overcast sky was a deep gray which was rapidly darkening, giving a gloomy air to the seaside keep. The keep itself was rather small and humble.. not too much more than a tower, about twenty feet, built from squarely hewn stones of a pale color. Kalendraf surveyed the keep and cast a doubtful look at Denner. The young man may have meant well when he suggested this Wizard Ivy, and apparently had a high respect for her; but to Kalendraf, Ivy's keep didn't look like the keep of a powerful alchemist.. it looked more like the keep of a local hedge wizard. Scott looked at Denner, "I thought you said she lived in a tower?" "Well .." Denner turned back, with a note of defensiveness in his voice. "You don't have to have to a great big shiny tower to be the best, Scott. Ivy's never concerned herself much with any wizardly politics or social matters, and this keep's all she's ever needed to do her work." Scott looked back at Denner wondering why the lad became so defensive over his simple comment. `Hmm, lot more going on here than any of them are telling,' mused Scott. The wagon rolled up to the door of the keep, and Denner hopped out and walked up the short stone steps to the entrance, taking the knocker in his hand and rapping it loudly on the wooden door. "Good afternoon, Denner! I'm right behind you..." Denner and the others (save Scott, who had been paying attention to Ivy's coming) turned to see a white-robed woman wearing a straw hat and carrying a walking stick strolling up the path to the door. She grinned from underneath her hat at Denner's surprised, and waved a free hand to him. "Hello, Ivy! I didn't see you come up." "No, you didn't.. I was going for a walk down to the village before I started dinner. I'm sorry, Denner.. I knew you were coming, but you were late and I stopped bothering to wait for you. Good day..." Wizard Ivy gave a casual nod to the others. "Are these friends of yours, Denner? It's good to see you've finally gotten about to making some..." "Oh, well." Denner searched for words. "Sorry about being late, and as for these people.. well, reasons for those are both the same thing, and I think I'd rather wait a bit before I explained everything to you..." Ivy nodded, her graces fading slightly as she tried to decipher Denner's statement. "Whatever you say, Denner." The alchemist peered over the wagon's edge to look inside at the barrels that Denner had brought for her. E'Karam woke up from the nap he had been taking with a snort, and opened his eyes to come face to face with a surprised woman wearing a straw hat. E'Karam blinked. "Excuse me, miss.. did you know that your hair's green?" "Goodness!" Ivy started back from the strange creature, then blinked a few times to refind her bearings. "Ah yes, this. Don't you have any second thoughts about it!" The Wizard Ivy removed her hat to reveal a tide of curly green locks. "This is just a little experiment I had when I was young and vain.. maybe it'll come out someday, but I'm quite used to it now and won't be changing it." "Hey, that's no problem!" E'Karam peeked out from the wagon's edge and placed his elbows on the wheel guard. "I think it really suits you." "Why, thank you!" Ivy tucked her staff under the crook of her arm and extended a hand in greeting to the purple creature. "And I'm sure you're quite handsome for your species, too. Your name is...?" "E'Karam." the tentacled monster replied. Then he looked down at Ivy's hand and shook it as an afterthought. "Pleased to meet you." Scott shifted in his saddle, looked around and then up at the overcast sky. "Well, nice to meet you, My Lady Ivy, but maybe we can talk later. As it's about to rain and I don't see any need of us getting wet during pleasantries." Ivy turned to the mercenary, then to Denner. "I'll explain later." Denner said. Ivy sighed. "Fine by me then. Denner, take the wagon to the stables. The rest of you gentlemen will have to sleep on the floor, I don't have provisions for more than one guest at a time... (Ivy looked them over) but I suppose that's not too much of a problem for your sort. Denner, we'll take care of the barrels next morning, it's getting dark out early today with the clouds, and we need to be able to see." Denner nodded. "Yes, ma'am!" "I'll set up my tent My Lady Ivy, it is large enough for several of us if it would make matters easier. I even have cots", directing the last towards the group. "Well why don't we go inside first. I'm sure that all of you could use a rest," replied Ivy. Denner got back into the wagon and sent it rolling towards the stables. As the wagon turned the corner out of sight, Ivy crossed her arms and pondered. For all the months she knew Denner, she always considered him to be a lonely sort- a bit sad, a bit polite, a bit too concerned for the feelings of others, and most of all too reserved to make friends. She had held hope that one day Denner might change for the better- and had thought when she saw the wagon that Denner had- but now it looked like Denner had just gone and gotten himself in some sort of trouble, his personality winning over his common sense... The group walked around the corner on foot, each wondering why anyone would want to live here. Kalendraf walked up to Ivy. "Wizard Ivy, could you please show us where you want us to put our things?" Ivy nodded with a slight frown. "Yes, yes.. go upstairs and lay it all down in the corner of my quarters." Ivy stopped and looked carefully at Kal's amulet. "That's an interesting amulet... name?" "Kalendraf." "Yes. Is it magical by any chance? Your mouth didn't seem quite right with what you were saying..." Kalendraf nodded. "Yes, it is. Thank you, Wizard Ivy, we'll take this upstairs.." "All right. And please, I'm an alchemist, only the village children call me a wizard.." "Yes, I know, Denner has explained it to me." Kalendraf called from the staircase inside the keep. "Ah." Ivy stopped Denner, who was the last in line. "Denner, did the toxins come through alright?" Denner looked down at the ground. "No. One barrel was lost." Ivy was greatly surprised at Denner, but refused to let it show. "Really? You're usually so careful about that.. Dear me, what happened? You must be feeling awful about it..." "I'll have to explain later, it's got to do with everything else today..." "And that man, Kalendaf, what was he doing with a magic amulet?" "I'll explain _later_." Denner turned and shuffled the equipment up the stairs. Ivy looked up at Denner as he walked up the staircase into the shadow. This was unusual for him. She hoped that Denner wasn't trying to take advantage of her good nature by dragging in trouble for her... Ivy looked up at the sky and frowned. Rain. Cold seashore rain tonight. She always hated this sort of weather... Kalendraf ran down the staircase, stripped to the waist. He ran down to the seashore in front of Ivy's wondering eyes and started waving at the sky, "Come on! Come on! Hurry up and rain, I've been waiting for this all day already!" Ivy raised an eyebrow at the strange man. Obviously, Denner would explain later. Scott watch Kal run down to the shore, looked around at the terrain and shrugged. It looked safe enough. He turned back to setting up the tent. Noticing that the Lady Ivy was still standing outside, Scott commented "I will be in shortly, My Lady, after I have set up and secured my things." Ivy looked at Scott, an obvious mercenary, and realized that Denner explaination was not going to be a simple one. -Aphoriel/Kinsman Sean Givan Ivy [ADIM] With editing from David Chase aka Scott Gillig Seems that some lines of communactions are not getting through. (Sigh) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu (christopher motherway) Subject: [Raoh] Annnnnd there off!! Message-ID: Date: Fri, 12 Mar 1993 18:19:55 GMT Daybreak. The sun was creeping over the horizon, but have not yet penetrated the gates of Generica. A bit of a buzz swept through the town as merchants and innkeepers were rising to meet the morning's first customers. In the Thieves' Quarter, things were quieting down; the gangs hid and the prostitutes were calling it a night. A few other couples rose to watch the sunrise in a lover's embrace. At the Dragon's Inn, a group of men had gathered at the front door. A number of horses and a wolf were also with them. These men, however, were not waiting for the Inn-proper to open. They were awaiting a man and his lovemate to guide them, as best they could, to another more deadlier man. These were the ones, chosen by Sir Lance Wolf, to help him destroy the mighty Raoh the Conqueror! Lance came down from his room and out the front door, sword by his side, mandolin across his back, a package of provisions in his hand to be place on his horse, Thunder. Blaze Gethsah joined him, along with Baff, the young man who rode his horse all the way from Kassandra to get help. Blaze had nothing with her, save for her simple frocks and an amulet she bought earlier that week. She went over to her horse, Stardust, and stroked its nose while Lance went to the center of the group and spoke. "First of all," Sir Lance started, "I wish to thank you all for joining me on this quest. I just want to make sure that everbody is here who I asked for." He looked at a paper he had in his hand and started the `roll call', "Rustan?" The ranger raised his hand saying, "Here." "Brycur." The murchant smiled and said, "Here." "Garol?" The strange ninja said "I am here." "Firecat?" The gnome, who tried to keep his wolf Shadow from jumping at this strange one, stated, "Present." "Tarkyn?" "YO!" spoke the tall ranger, his two swords gleeming. "Pantora?" Lance looked down to see the mentalist raising his hand. Satisfied, he folded the paper and put it in his provisions bag. He again spoke, "You are all very brave gentlemen to join Blaze and I on this quest and..." Rustan then said, "Are you certain about Blaze going with us?" "Rustan, the choice was made on her own behalf. Her powers could prove invaluable to us." "Sorry, Sir Lance. Didn't mean to offend or anything." "I understand perfectly. I did not wish her to come either, but she was very...persuasive." Even Blaze joined in on the slight laugh uttered by the group. Lance then continued, "I do not know how many of you were here when I spoke the bard's tale of Raoh the Conqueror, but I will say that he is a monster, a man as vicious as any beast I have ever encountered. This man is very dangerous, and I have my doubts as to whether ANY of us will come back here alive or, even, in ONE PIECE! But, I now see that, with this impressive group assembled here, we should be able to put down the scourge of Raoh before he does any more harm!" Blaze then brought Baff forward and said, "Baff and I wish to add something, beloved." Lance stepped back and Blaze said, to the group, "Baff and I had figured out the approximate coordinates of Kassandra. It is, at the most, a two-week ride up there, through DiamondGate of the North Glacier. I hope you have warm garments, gentlemen. Anyway, Baff had rode through the gate and did not stop until he hit Specifica of Cod. When he was shrugged off there, he hugged the coast line until he stopped here in Generica. Baff says he can retrace his ride to the DiamondGate. MagicHutchHeader Brycur said, "Not much is known about what's beyong DiamondGate, m'lady. Is the lad certain he came through there?" Baff replied, "I'm certain. I rode Charger like an arrow to that strange gate in the glacier. I remeber every step of the way there, though I was not gauging the distance. There's a light forest from the DiamondGate to Kassandra, full with animals. I could almost FEEL the wolves at my back. But I don't believe there's anything vicious in the forest. It should be relatively smooth running once we're past the gate." Lance then stated, "We figure about one week to get to DiamondGate and another week to get to Kassandra. From what Baff told us, I do not think Kassandra will be to hard to miss; a extremely tall tower rises up from it in the middle of the town. Apparently this was an old dungeon from earlier times, a jail for all criminals in the vicinity. Raoh is probably using it as a base of operations now." He paused here for a moment. Then, ever-so-seriously, he said, "I am not going to bullshit any of you; Raoh is not going to be a pushover. He can level towns, forests and poeple without even dismounting his horse. His physical strength is only surmounted by his awesome power. As I stated in my bulletin, I cannot say that your lives will not be in severe danger. If any of you wish to save your skin and stay here, we will not push you into leaving with us. Say now that you want to stay or forever hold your peace." Nothing but silence followed. The only thing that broke the silence was Littlefair opening the Inn-proper and, then, waling over to stand at the front door. "Very well, then. Mount up and be ready to go!" As the team got prepared, Lance went over to Littlefair, who said, "I just came to see you guys off, and to wish you luck." Lance then took out a parchment and, handing it to Littlefair, said, "My friend, I need to ask you a favor. If, by chance, I do not return from this quest, you must make sure this gets to Shadehaven. It is my will. Once Serene, Luthor and Mista get their share, I need either you or her to find someone who knows ANYTHING about my home kingdom, and have that person deliver it there. I have friends there in the Royal Gaurd whom I owe debts to. The name of the kingdom is in the will. Please do not send it or open it unless I do not return in two months. Understand?" Littlefair nodded and put the will his his pocket before re-entering the Inn. Satisfied, Lance mounted Thunder and, as a bit of a tension breaker, screamed, "RAOOOOOOOOOOOOH, HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" The team marched up Drangon's Lane and out of the North Gate, following the coastline. They would stop at Specifica of Cod for any more information they could get. But, for now, the adventurers were whooping and screaming in anticipation. Each one, in their hearts, knew that, in short time, the man known as Raoh the Conqueror would be eliminated! - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Everyone please wish us luck on our quest for Raoh! Chris Wolvie ------------------------------------ "I'm no unicorn, no mythical creature. I'm HUMAN! And I love you!" -THE LAST UNICORN MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: bdavis@pepper.cray.com (Brent Davis {x67000 CF/ENG}) Subject: [Kal & Co] Raindancer Message-ID: <1993Mar14.095838.10753@walter.cray.com> Date: 14 Mar 93 09:58:37 CST > Kalendraf ran down the staircase, stripped to the waist. He ran > down to the seashore in front of Ivy's wondering eyes and started waving > at the sky, "Come on! Come on! Hurry up and rain, I've been waiting for > this all day already!" Feeding the horn had become a daily ritual for Kal. Some days it was extremely hungry demanding him to immediately absorb several gallons of water in order to satisfy it. On others, like today, the horn's appetite merely festered until he found the time to nurture it. On the journey from Generica, Kalendraf had drained the water barrels several times, and as a result he had tried to find other sources for the precious liquid. Their route kept them close to the sea coast, allowing Kalendraf to try a dip into the cold wintry seawater. It had worked, but it left his body covered with salt crystals, which proved difficult to remove. If he tried to wash them off, the applied water was simply absorbed by the horn, leaving the same crystals in place. There was no choice but to wipe them off which had still left a few scratchy salt crystals in out-of-the-way places. Finally, within the last week, a new source had been found quite by accident. With the warming temperature, the precipitation had turned from snow to cold rain. In a vain attempt to set up the camp before a rainshower, Kal had discovered that the rain was as good a source of water as any. Since then, he had eagerly looked forward to the common spring showers. Dark boiling clouds laden with water brewed above him, but still no rain fell from them. 'Enough waiting', he thought to himself. So he started to dance barefoot on the beach. Perhaps he was letting his superstitious side get the best of him. He knew he had no magical powers, save those conferred by the necklace he wore. Yet, one other time he had danced, and the had rain fallen. As he hopped from one foot to the next, he caught a glimpse of the others standing near the "tower", watching his movements. Ivy appeared to be the only one remotely interested. In fact, he could almost detect a joking remark made by E'Karam after which the others joined in his mirth. Finally, he felt a spot of coldness on his shoulder. Then came one on his nose followed by two on his chest. The rain was finally coming down. 'Once again, the dancing worked.' He spread his arms wide, but continued his movements, now circling and spinning in the falling droplets of water. It was fun, almost euphoric, feeling the water being absorbed as quickly as it touched his skin. He looked back toward the others, but they had retreated to the warm, dry comfort within Ivy's abode. Looking back toward the heavens, he laughed aloud. -------- "It begins." The Wyeriun walked quickly from the table where the horn had been resting, and stopped as he reached the large mirror propped against the wall. After incanting a complicated spell, the mirror began to cloud, and he thrust forth the horn, touching it to the smooth surface. "Show me the way!," he ordered. His sleepless, bloodshot eyes peered deeply into the clouds. Whether they were afraid of the Wyeriun's gaze or if the spell had finally reached its target, the clouds immediately dispersed. The scene of a man dancing on the shore within a rainshower came into clear view, and a faint glowing line running between the horn and him could be seen. "Kalendraf!," the merastasi spoke with a long, deep voice. "I have found you now. Soon your powers will be mine." He continued watching as the man frolicked in the falling water, surveying both the person and his surroundings. Chains rattled from behind the mage, but the Wyeriun was too caught up in the mirror's images to notice. The captive, a weakened sea creature, struggled to see the mirror before finally catching a brief glimpse of Kalendraf, but then the creature sank back into his shackled position. For although he was thankful to finally see the horn-bound, something else in the image was deeply troubling, namely the object worn on Kalendraf's neck. 'Are we too late?' For a long while after the image had faded, the Wyeriun stood caressing the conch shell. "Tonight I shall have him." -------- The Wyeriun rushed up the stairs, and burst through the front door, nearly knocking his wife over. As he ran down the garden path, she called after him, "What about your supper? You can't go skipping your meals every night!" She returned to the dining room to eat by herself for the umpteenth time in the last few weeks. As she sat in silence, she wondered what she had ever seen in the man. -------- After pulling the horn from its new jewelled case, the mage put it to his lips and winded it as hard as he could. Of all the notes he had learned to play, this was the most difficult, but also the most powerful. As he waited on the dock in anticipation, he reminded himself that there would soon be other powers, even more delightful, more wonderful, once he had captured Kalendraf. With only the dim moonlight, it was difficult to see, but the water seemed to swell, and finally began to rise into a monstrous shape. Within its swirling and shifting mass, a mouth and eyes began to form. "What be thy bidding?," it bubbled loudly. "I command you to capture Kalendraf. This is who and where he is." The Wyeriun cast a brief spell which replayed a portion of the scene viewed earlier on the mirror. "I repeat, capture him, do not kill him." "And the others with him?" "They are of no concern. Kill or destroy anything that stands in your way. Bring Kalendraf here when you have him. Now, GO!" As the creature sank back into the water, the Wyeriun smiled to himself, and stood holding and caressing the horn as if it were a baby. -- / bdavis@cray.com | T | Given that 6 x 9 = 42, \ ( Cray Research, Inc. | 3 | then the Universe must ) \ Chippewa Falls, WI | D | be a base 13 function. / MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: This Week in Review (Mar-6-12) Date: 15 Mar 1993 02:31:28 GMT Message-ID: <1o0pq0$d7h@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: archives ADMIN: note, that due to time lags, some things may not reach my site until the week after you post them. To make sure a thread review or other article you wish included is included, please email me. ALSO - NO VIOLENCE IN THE DRAGON"S INN, NONE, AT ALL - any violent actions performed in the Inn will be considered a dream, illusion only visible to the poster, or something similarly ethereal. No matter how fast the attacker, Littlefair and Listener are faster, no matter how strong the attacker, Littlefair and Listener are stronger, get the picture? Newbie posts are forgiven, but it does not validate any actions therein. Just put it down to a bad dream. This Week in Review -=-=-=-=- Dragon's Inn and Newcomers Review: -=-=-=-=- Bossie the cow has bloody-thirsty dreams. Watch out Farmer J2BR! Bogus. Now we have a vampire bovine. Hey Rocky, keep an eye on Bullwinkle. sorry if you are new and I've missed you, but unless its pretty obvious (eg. New character enters the Inn) or you tell me, I could miss it. -=-=-=-=- those in the INN (added to and deleted from when I'm told to) -=-=-=-=- Karl, Lifilis Kloote, Colin, Alicia, Kryalla, Amachiak & ChikCha, Merol of Kirilin, Kirkil Uaiz & Xrxs -=-=-=-=- Thread Catalogue -=-=-=-=- [DB] title: Dark Blades contact: Morgan "the Dreamer" Broman notes: Dark Blades are a Low City-gang. They have killed/kidnapped Verden, third merchant of Generica and are framing Rameshan. They are also looking for an Artifact in the Shunned Center, AND carefully following the exploits of the Demon Spiders.... [TW] title: Twentlan Rescue Team contact : Jorma Pesonen notes: Leader of the Squiichar came to the Inn to gather a party to rescue the Queen of his people. Due to some space-time-continuum fluctuation the party left and vanished. Amachiak has returned to form a new group to find his Queen. [ST] title: Strange Tent contact : Jorma Pesonen notes: see in submitted reviews below [L&S] title: Luthor and Serene. contact: asg102@psuvm.psu.edu, alden@coos.dartmouth.edu official characters: Luthor, Serene, The Captain Primary Themes: Love, Family, Adventure, Enjoying Life, Good vs. Evil, Loss, and Revenge Secondary Themes: Meteorology, strained carrots, colorblindness. [MI] title: Moriarty Investigations contact: Aaron Humphrey involved: Dariel (Bernard Hsiung), the Mage Guild(common property), Jameson (Kelly J. Cooper), ...sage notes: moving towards story-telling mode Mostly an ego-tripping thread. ;-} Touches on the [DB] and [DS] threads; may brush briefly with the [SQ] thread. Will do anything for a reasonable price. ;-} [DS] title: Demon Spiders contact: Aaron Humphrey involved: Dark Blades (Morgan Broman), Nercrum(Chris Steiner) notes: Follows the exploits of the Demon Spiders gang, since they have separated from the [MI] thread--although they may merge back together at any time. [SQ] title: Shade Quest contact: Timothy Vaughan involved: aaron@atlantis.uucp, lapham3760@iscsvax.uni.edu, mabr@sweden.hp.com, djb6@midway.uchicago.edu notes: Some former members of the [R] thread returning to find their lost comrade Shade, somewhere under the Great Blue Ocean... [LQ] title: Lizard Quest (for lack of something better) contact: Jim Miller hadcrjam@admin.uh.edu involved: Colin, Thk, Sgt. Thorpe (NPC) notes: Colin Silvertree begins to search for the lizard man Thk and hopes to clear his name. Plot twists expected. [RATS] title: Rat Catchers contact: Hak Lien Chua involved: Higar (Hak Lien Chua), Git (D MORGAN), Firgun (Scott Bradburn), Bakr (Thomas Kettenring), a duck (NPC) notes: Searching the sewers for a real big rat and some fungi. [blade] contact Person: Daniel Reinker (dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu) involved: Meshtak, Arcadio, Chip, Gortok, Max, and Sir Tyrone notes: Battling the minions of Hendrix the Motherspawn [Kal&Co] title: Kal & Company contact: Brent Davis characters: Denner Train, E'Karam, Kalendraf, Kevin and Meran Quicksilver notes: Just getting started. The members banded together after being kicked out of the Dragon's Inn together following a drinking contest that nearly turned into a fight. -=-=-=-=- submitted reviews to follow -=-=-=-=- ******************************************************************************** no submissions ********************************************************************* ********************************************************************* compiled by ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: aaron@atlantis.uucp Subject: [L&S][MI] Alfvaen[Party]: Mingling Message-ID: <1993Mar14.165603.3439@atlantis.uucp> Date: Sun, 14 Mar 1993 16:56:03 GMT ADMIN: I know this may be a bit late...but it's not my fault. Okay, I joined the party late, but I really meant to post this on Tuesday. But I just got a copy of Civilization, and it took over my brain. Plus the line into Atlantis has been busy. Okay, enough groveling. Unless anyone at the party >really< wants to interact with me, I'll do an "Alfvaen wakes up the next morning" post in a day or two...so get your votes in early! Characters Involved: Alfvaen/Elstree/Lassiviren, Luthor, Serene, Trawm, Lancos Alfvaen. Elstree. Alfvaen. A golden elf wearing a BLACK cloak was chatting with a few people near the door. When he saw Alfvaen, he excused himself and came over. "Hello...I'm Luthor. And you are..." "Alfvaen. Rowan Littlefair told me that this party was open to anyone from the Inn, and...well, I've been there once or twice." He looked around. "Nice house. I grew up in the middle of a bunch of these. Not quite the same--more the kind of house where you live in the branches, rather than inside the trunk, but different dimensions, different trees. And different elves, for that matter--I don't think I've ever seen one of your type before." Luthor laughed. "I've noticed that myself. No two dimensions have quite the same creatures, although humans tend to be fairly uniform." They got into a pleasant conversation on dimensional variation, before Serene came up and cleared her throat. "Excuse me," she said pleasantly, "but can I borrow the host for a moment?" Elstree prompted. "Just a minute. Now that you're both here...I understand it's customary to give a housewarming gift." "Oh, no, don't worry about it," Luthor said. "No, really--I'd like to. But I didn't have time to prepare anything. So I'll give a future commitment. Sometime when we all have some free time, I'll come over and do some drawings of you two, the house, the kid--whatever strikes your fancy. I'm no major artist or anything, but it's a hobby of mine." Serene and Luthor exchanged glances. "Well--all right. Where can we get in touch with you?" "Moriarty Investigations. 15A-Gamma Cor Caroli Lane. Just ask any of the locals--they'll show you where it is. We tip them well to do so." He let Serene take Luthor away then, and looked around to see if he saw anyone familiar. Most of the people there he didn't recognize. He hadn't really had a chance to mingle much since he came to Generica, getting involved with Moriarty Investigations so soon...most of the people he knew were from the Low City. Wait--that shape over there looked distinctly trollish... He walked over and tapped it on the shoulder. "Trawm?" Trawm turned to him and grinned. "Alfvaen! How's it goin'? Not a bad party, but a bit dull. Luthor doesn't want any fights, or somethin'. Party-pooper. Say, you want to go a few rounds?" "I'll pass, thanks," Alfvaen said. "How's Delmara?" Trawm asked. Alfvaen's smile froze. "I have no idea," he said. Then he walked away. Trawm scratched his head and shrugged. That reminded him of his primary aim here--to find some female companionship. Since most of the partygoers were adventurers or Inn denizens, most of them were male, but there were quite a few women as well. He scanned the crowd, but most of the women seemed to have male companions. Then his eye was caught by another familiar figure. It took him a moment to recall who it was, but then he remembered. "Lancos?" he said. Lancos turned to face him. "Alfvaen! Long time no see." "So how did your quest, or whatever go? You find that dragon?" Lancos' face went momentarily dark. "Yeah, we found him. And a lot more. It was a bad experience for all of us. I did some things that I'm not proud of, and ... well, let's just say in particular I'm glad Kadrys is still speaking to me." "How about that sculptor, whatsisname? William?" Lancos laughed bitterly. "He sacrificed his life for the success of our quest." Then he thought for a moment. "Mind you, 'Raelf did say that this was perhaps the best it could have turned out. Apparently various versions of the quest had taken place, and most of them had had much worse consequences for the world." Alfvaen held up his hands. "Don't get too technical on me," he said, trying to lighten the mood. "I never got very far in mage-school." Lancos grinned. "Well, I was never sure of 'Raelf's explanation myself. Have you ever met him?" Alfvaen thought back. "Yeah, once, briefly. Except, it wasn't quite me, but-- well, you haven't asked me, but I did find the woman I was looking for, sort of. We're now kind of inhabiting the same body. Or, rather we all inhabit the same amulet, and take turns with the body. So Elstree--that's her name--has met 'Raelf briefly, healing a friend of his named Kron, but they didn't have much chance for conversation." "You know, you say that to most people, and they couldn't help but look at you strangely. But you should meet ar'Elya -- 'Raelf's lifemate. To quote 'Raelf, she's got more forms than the IRS. Again I'm unsure of what the actual meaning is, but you get the idea. Is there any chance I could meet Elstree? It would be nice to see her without the dragon parts." Elstree inquired. Alfvaen answered. "I don't know. It seems rather awkward -- suddenly changing in the open and all." Alfvaen answered both questions simultaneously. "Come on, now. I'm sure most won't notice, and those who do, will find it acceptable, albeit possibly because of how much they drank." "Well... Ok. Just for a second." Alfvaen didn't want to forget his goal, after all. Slowly, Alfvaen's form disappeared and Elstree's appeared. Lassiviren asked. Suddenly, Lancos let out a burst of laughter. "What?" Elstree asked, silently wondering if the warrior had somehow overheard the half-drow's internal query. "Oh, nothing, really. It's just that, disregarding ar'Elya, the last four women I've had any sort of long contact with were a succubus, a revlis, a temptress, and now a priestess of the goddess of hurtful love. I was just noting how life can be coincidental." Elstree nodded and smiled, agreeing deeper than Lancos could know. "But I can see why Alfvaen might not want you about, particularly at a party like this with so many people to proposition you. You might want to change back, before Lucas spots you." "Ok. Nice meeting you, Lancos." Elstree then gave control back to Alfvaen. "You too. I'm happy _your_ medallion proved beneficial." Alfvaen wondered about that statement, until he finally realized that Lancos had also worn an adornment, something that was absent now. And from the tone, he knew it was best not to ask about it. "Are you hungry?" At Alfvaen's nod, he said, "Well, if you don't mind trying something a bit different, 'Raelf brought in something called 'pitza', or something like that. It's kind of good, if a bit strange. Like the musicians that Serene brought in." They walked over to where the trays of pizza stood, and Alfvaen's eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh, this stuff! They had something like this in Delta City. Very cosmopolitan place. But then, it's many times larger than Generica. Anyways, they had something like this in the Justice Eatery, by the Hall of Justice, except they didn't call it 'pitza'. They called it 'siselpi' or something like that." He bit into his piece, and then chewed it rapidly, as if his mouth were on fire. "And it wasn't so spicy," he said, his eyes watering. "You'll get used to it," Lancos said. "You want something to drink?" "Non-alcoholic, if possible," Alfvaen said. "Iced tea, if you have it." Lancos returned after a bit, drinks in hand. "I just realized -- you mentioned Lucas. Who is he?" "Oh, he's the guy with the dour attitude and the apathy around him over there. But recently I think he's after feminine company. He certainly approached that revlis with more aggression than 'Raelf suggested was normal." Alfvaen looked where Lancos pointed, and found in fact it was difficult to concentrate where Lucas was for too long. "Well, at least he's got the right idea." Lancos' eyebrows rose in interest, but he said nothing about it. Alfvaen had basically stayed out of Lancos' personal life, so the warrior thought it best to return the favor. "Oh, going babe trolling, eh? Well, then, I've just one question to ask beforehand. You know that little girl that was with you -- I believe The Little Rat was her informal name -- , what ever happened to her?" "Hmmm. Actually, I don't know. She sort of disappeared after I found Elstree, probably wrongly feeling that she had outlived her usefulness." Lancos frowned. "Too bad. I'd hoped that she had found comfort for a change. But those who deal in favors can be a fickle lot. Anyway, good luck at... well, whatever you want." "And the same to you." Alfvaen replied, and then made his way toward the general gathering. With the help and contributions of: Mike Sander Unfortunately without the input of: The Dreamer (But hopefully okay nonetheless...) -- ---Alfvaen(1909 Books, 1072 Albums, And Counting) "Mills, who gave me the book, is responsible for my now being Anna Karenina..." ---John Skaife Current Album--Army of Lovers Current Read--Samuel M. Key:From A Whisper To A Scream MagicHutchHeader From: dnichols@engr.latech.edu (Dennis Nichols) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Inn-leaving] Date: Mon, 15 Mar 1993 14:02:08 GMT Message-ID: This is being posted for shaun. -- Although the outside world existed to Wanderer, he wasn't paying much attention to it, using all his concentration keeping himself there. Inside himself, he was aware of the movement of all parts of his body, his blood burned as it moved through the veins, his heart seeming to smash out from his chest every time it pumped. Movement made the pain worsen muscles having to tighten and compress to provide motion as the blood would rush to where it was needed - all this was happening within the still black figure in the inn and all outside signs of it were stopped by his will and strength. Suddenly though the pain increased beyond all control of the mind and Wanderer's silence was broken by his own scream. "Arghhhhhhhhhh! The pain!" Others in the inn stared at this battered figure who suddenly stood up from his chair and clutched at the table before him. His two companions at that self-same table moved quickly. "Wa' the hell." Roger looked around as he'd spoke, carefully checking whether anything outside had affected his comrade. Nothing was obvious. "We need to go NOW!" Wanderer's voice sounded strange from behind his clenched teeth. "Something is very wrong - I have ...arghh" his voice trailed off the pain restricting even his words. The other man at the table took charge, "Roger, we were ready anyway - find Thorr-kan. I'll get Wanderer to the stables." Traveler almost lifts Wanderer from his feet to take him away as Roger moves for the stairs where he'd last seen the minotaur go. Turning onto them he almost collides with his white friend. The minotaur recovers first " I heard a cry - Wanderer?" "Yup - he's got worse, we're leavin' now." Both headed for the inn's exit... Outside moving to the stables, Traveler notices that every muscle in Wanderer's body is tensed solid making him almost rigid and very difficult to move. Stopping for a moment, he asks " Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" " No, it's...just too much for me to...hold." the pained man's words struggle out from lips now pale with strain. Thorr-kan and Roger appear from within the inn and the three of them now move Wanderer with ease. His horse seems ready when they arrive and stands easy as they load him onto it's back. As the other's with horses mount, Thorr-kan is bought up to date with what just happened and they move out, the Minotaur running alongside Wanderer's horse to help him along. Deciding to see if talking will help and needing the information, Thorr-kan shouts up to the silent figure beside him. " What should we expect after we emerge for the GateWay onto your world?" The man in black hears and looks down, focussing on the question. " A world like this one, but more magical...(gasp)...more powerful magic. The world is...a playground for gods and demonic beings. Ordinary mortals are like pawns. Those with ability such as you are major pieces...(whinces)...I should be able to keep you out of most of that. When I become...better." Something in the tone of the last comment makes Thorr-kan pause, not just the odd phrase, but the fact that such comments were usually accompanied by a grin and that was not present this time. " How will you recover? Is there anything we must do if you are incapacitated?" " I should recover as soon as we emerge...although I don't know why the pain increased...something may be wrong. If I am incapacitated or disappear, try first to return here for your own sakes...if you cannot or insist on staying, then protect yourselves until I recover...and trust no one. " Thorr-kan takes this in and decides he had learned all he can, now it is time to move. "Flank him. " the Minotaur shouts to Roger and Traveler, " The GateWay is only several blocks away. I will deal with the Gold Elf who operates the device." Moving forward as the others go alongside Wanderer, Thorr-kan leads them forward to the GateWay.... -- Shaun 'Wanderer' MagicHutchHeader From: v124jw4y@ubvmsd.cc.buffalo.edu (Benjamin R Pierce) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [Ga] Hawksholme... Message-ID: Date: 15 Mar 93 19:36:00 GMT References: In article , jcp@trident.usacs.rutgers.edu (Jonathan Petersen) writes... >>The old man nodded to them and spoke: "Greetings," he said, in a surprisingly >>strong baritone voice, "I am Jaru." > >"Well met," responded the drow mage, "I am Zebron Twilight, the Silver Sword of >Eilistraee. Myself and my companions -" (gesturing towards the rest of the >group) "- are friends of the man behind you." > >Sitting down in one of the chairs in the sparsely furnished cave in order to >cut some of the tension, he continued: "You have apparently just summoned us >here. If I were you, I'd start explaining. Make it quick, and make it good. >You'll find us much more willing houseguests if we know what in Limbo is going >on." >"Please, what is going on?" Jaru chuckled. "And now you're expecting a long rambling story from a crazy old man, correct? Well met, Zebron Twilight. Be at peace, for neither you nor any of your companions have aught to fear from me." Turning back to Garriot, he gazed down at the entranced warrior with an expression of mingled sadness and fondness on his face. "Old friend," he murmered, almost to himself, "Have you forgotten so much? And when you remember, will you thank me for it?" Almost casually, he muttered a few words of magick over the prone form, and the aura glowed a bit brighter. With that he turned back to the rest of the group. "I suggest that we discuss this outside. The sun is bright, the day is warm, and this dank cave chills my old bones. Besides, the Spell of Restoration will take some time yet to complete..." [ADMIN: Could someone please send this to those members of the group who are having trouble reading this newsgroup? My mailer's still dead--Ben] MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kring@efes.physik.uni-kl.de (Thomas Kettenring) Subject: [RATS!] No rats yet, but... Message-ID: <1993Mar15.212732.11350@rhrk.uni-kl.de> Date: Mon, 15 Mar 1993 21:27:32 GMT The four heroes left the evil wizard's place with their loot and continued searching the sewers. This time they tried to keep closer together; Git and the duck still marched at the head, followed by Bakr, Higar, and Firgun. The length of their legs seemed to be the main criterion for this order, and the smaller ones had to yell several times to slow down the big ones. "Why don't you tell me the name of the god that wizard wanted you to worship? I'd really like to know more of the local gods," Bakr asked Git. "I forgot it." "Come on! You lay on a workbench about to be killed, you can save yourself by praising a god but refuse, and two minutes later you've forgotten the name?" "Really long name. Can't remember it." "Hm." Bakr ruminated for a while. He had heard (from other magic-users) that fighters' mental capacities weren't as good as those of trees, but he hadn't expected that it was much more than prejudice. Now that he came to think of it, Ormgwen, one of his companions back home, hadn't been too bright too. He had said things like "hello tree" and "hello rock" when he was in good mood, and his interpretation of "fun" seemed to be destroying furniture with a two-handed sword. Once he had ruined an axe trying to cut down a brick wall despite they had already examined the other side of said wall. Later he picked the lock of that priest's house when the priest was at home, searched a lumber-room, and came back with a broken flute and an empty quiver... Bakr decided to keep an eye on the duck-holder. ----- "What do you do when you have a hero in your grip? Dark Master?" "I'll kill him immedi..." "Torture him until..." "No, not you. I mean Dark Master Three. Why don't you all seat yourself in a way that you can see whom I mean when I point to you? Now, Dark?" "I'll kill him immediately!" "No, no, no, no! Why don't you listen to what I say? You don't kill him. First you explain all your big plans to him, then you tell him how and when he's going to die, and then you kill him! Now, how do you kill him? Uh... Evo Bastard?" "Cut off his head with one stroke?" "NOOOO! It has to be slow! You're supposed to be cruel! Remember, you want to be Ultimate Villains, not just run-of-the-mill crooks. I fear you won't get very far, Evo. Take example by Overlord! Now - what will YOU do, Frubilupt? Well?" "---" "Well?" "---" "WELL???" Frubilupt Bumpodri woke up, bathed in perspiration. Phew! He wasn't back at school. He was lying on some stone floor. His head hurt. He was naked. It was dark. He stood up and walked around, hitting his shins at several hard things. Finally he found stairs and ascended them. He opened the door and found he had been in his cellar... Oh! It all came back to him. Some of those damn adventurers had mugged him. He ran to the room where he kept his money, and the chest was still there. Full too. Strange adventurers that. They had not touched anything here. He grabbed a torch and went back downstairs. His secret laboratory looked like somebody had moved out. The furniture was there, the altar, the chair... but everything that could be moved was gone. Everything but the wand! He ran to it, grabbed it and laughed for a while, holding the torch under his chin so that his face was illuminated in a demonic way until his beard started to burn. ----- "Really, you don't need to kill them, Higar. They're harmless!" "But they won't let us through!" "Then we take another way. Look, aren't they great? Trying to sit with their arms crossed?" "Yes, they're great big stinky crocodiles, and we will kill them!" "You mean I wasted my whole Sawdust of Pacifism on crocodiles that you want to kill anyway?" "Look Bakr, it's not wasted. They would have bitten us while we kill them if it weren't for your sawdust. Now they're easy to kill. And it's their fault when they don't let us through." "Couldn't we carry them away? I don't want to kill animals that are on a sit-down strike." "We don't know how long the stuff will work. Perhaps if we carry them away they will follow us when they change back to bloodthirsty killers. Besides, are you aware how heavy the beasts are?" "You have a point there or two. Okay, let's kill them. Firgun? Do you have some item that results in a quick death?" "Sure! How's this..." "Oh no! You wizards won't take away the fun!" Higar swung his handaxe. Git passed his finger over the edge of his axe, and his eyes shone when he glanced at the seven T-Crocs. Firgun and Bakr sighed and got their daggers. Then the Tunnel Crocodiles one after the other shook their heads, looked around, and attacked. -- Text written by kring@efes.physik.uni-kl.de AKA Bakr Input and corrections by: c164-ez@po.berkeley.edu AKA Higar scott@athena.mit.edu AKA Firgun d.morgan@bradford.ac.uk AKA Git MagicHutchHeader Date: Sunday, 14 Mar 1993 22:52:50 EST From: JILL <34EP2A2@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93073.22525034EP2A2@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: K&J The story continues (new thread) References: <1993Mar9.004109.3403@ccsvax.sfasu.edu> Jenever thought she would burst as the days became weeks. She had found her love, the father of her children, just in time; for the first time since her teenage years she was nearly incapable of defending herself, much less able to make ends meet wandering about. Despite the fact she didn't have much up-stairs, there was quite a stair- case--and things might have become, well, uncomfortable had she not discovered her mate when she did. Killian was now hard-pressed to decide what would be the more honorable path to choose: post-pone his quest for an unknown length of time to care for his new family, or patch together the family he had always known. Certainly he could not leave Jen's side till after the birthing, and he would have to provide for the children's first few weeks, but once She was able to care for them, and herself the choice would be difficult... For the time--singing provided enough livlihood for the two of them, and each enjoyed occasionally sleeping out on the beach. She was still the most amazing woman he had laid eyes on, and was just as imodest with her attributes as she had been long ago on a ship full of randy sailors. * JILLIAN MAREE THOMAS 34EP2A2@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU * * "I'M JUST A GIRL WHO CAIN'T SAY NO" --OKLAHOMA * * @>->--->----------- * * * * * MagicHutchHeader Date: Monday, 15 Mar 1993 11:03:49 EST From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93074.110349344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] (new thread) Up all night, sleep all day (?) [ADMIN: Via this post I hope to accomplish two things my site doesn't seem to want me to do: 1) Catch up with the current timeline, and 2) Finally kick-off this thread I'm "directing" (bounced stuff, don't ya know)...] The sun had just risen, and that signalled the end of Luthor's party. Lancos mentally wished those gathered the best when his time with the wine time, leaving expressed words to those who were actually skilled at the art, such as Kadrys. That was one thing you could say for the warriot -- despite the alcohol he had quaffed, he had no delusion of grandeur in normally unproficient areas. On the other hand, the idea that he might walk back to the Dragon's Inn uninterrupted was very off-base. But then again, how can one put much faith behind someone's opinion when that person passed up an "opportunity" with a perfectly willing and attractive partner? I think I can safely say that Lancos would've lost no pride, and although he _would_ have lost money, he never was the type to worry about such matters. But such is the life of an adventurer. I don't pretend to follow, or even necessarily _agree_ -- or necessarily disagree, for that matter -- with Lancos' actions; I just report them. And speaking of reporting, I can see by your look that I should get back to the story. Where was I? Oh, yes... And so, Lancos continued his trek to the inn. And he actually made it most of the way back before a dark figure intercepted him. It approached him, and said "Come with me" in his best deep voice. However, even a drunk wouldn't approach the situation unwarily. Lancos prepared to draw his weapons at a moment's notice, and asked, "Why?". The figure closed. It spoke again, but this time the voice was a few octaves higher. "Just do it, ok? You can trust me not to harm you." And of course, the thing was that Lancos _couldn't_. 'But, nothing ventured, nothing gained.' he thought, and followed the man to a shoddy house that looked like it had been pillaged in the long-ago mob attack, and no one had bothered to try to rebuild it. The door opened with a noticable squeak, and revealed a room that was gloomy and full of shadow. Lancos was led to a table that was covered with a splotchy cloth that consisted of darker hues, and montioned to sit across from the hooded fellow. "My name is Enn Piecy, and I am a seer. You have need of me." a husky voice stated. Then Enn coughed to clear his throat, and spoke again in the higher tone, "Excuse me. Gotta do that for the clients. But I can see that you don't mind, and that you'd wonder about the validity of my words regardless. "So, let me prove my skill to you, as a means of 'claiming' you now that Delriqa has vanished, before some _other_ tries to do it." Enn reached over to the side a bit, and produced a pile of cards. "These cards are special, in that they can appear with the markers -- the 'suits', so to speak -- facing whichever way is appropriate for the person. Also, there are several decks within this pile, so a card could conceivably appear more than once. Now, cut." Lancos did as told, several times in fact as asked until a relatively small pile was left. Enn nodded gleefully, and spread the cards that remained along the table. He then moved several of the cards with his hands, intermixing them. Lancos gave a puzzled look, to which Enn replied, "I can't shuffle, but this should suffice.". Finally, Enn gathered the cards together, and dealt nine of them into a three-by-three formation. "There. The top will reveal the past, the middle the present, and the bottom the future. The middle card will be you, or how you are perceived; the cards adjacent to it attributes, and the corner cards major events. Let's see what shows up.... "Top Left: Ace of Diamonds, normal. Must be your birth card. You were... are an only child, and you were precious to your parents. And, despite what you might think, the two are not necessarily inclusive. "Top Middle: Queen of Spades, normal. Hmm -- so you were always a warrior. The rank doesn't show your power or skill per se, but your attitude. As you may know, the Queen of Spades is the only face card that suggests peace -- with a rose in one hand -- and war -- with a weapon in the other. Obviously, you've had both in your life. "Top Right: Ace of Spades, everything pointing away from you. Death. Of course, death's normal in life, so this must be a special case. Pointing away means that it wasn't _you_ that died, but it couldn't help but affect you. Still, I must tell you that this is one of the best places to see it, and in one of the best ways, all in all. "Middle Left: Three of hearts, hearts pointing away or to the sides. Hmm -- love and lack thereof at the same time? Obviously, you have a place in your heart for someone who can't return it, and/or someone else feels that way about you, which would explain the ones pointing to the side. The one pointing away, though -- possible love interest, although you'll have to work for it. "Center: Four of clubs, all pointing to you. Heh, should've guessed, it designates an animal. You certainly look the part of the ranger...". Enn stops for a second at Lancos shaking his head. "Now, don't give me that. You may have not _started_ as one",Enn points to the Queen again,"but that's how you're perceived, and that's what you are. There's a definite animal aura. "Middle Right: Two of Diamonds, "2" facing away. Hmm -- either you have little money, or else you'll get little in the near future. Probably the latter, since whoever heard of a poor adventurer? However, the "2" facing away shows that you care little about that anyway. "Bottom Left: Five of Spades, only the center one pointing at you. It seems you will be involved with a group of five, either 'leading' as their sixth or among them. That's _near_ future, so it could change later, but it seems it's back to 'work' for you, questing or the like. "Bottom Middle: Nine of Hearts, hearts in all directions. An obvious fame card. You see, it shows some will remember you fondly, others not so, and a few will be basically indifferent to you, but you'll never be forgotten. The important heart here is the one in the center, which is on its side. I suppose you must not _want_ fame, or might not get the kind you wish, but it shall come to pass nonetheless. "Bottom Right: Joker, normal. Hmm -- _this_ is usually where the Ace of Spades shows up, and people get worried until I tell them that this is _far_ future, and their death could well happen decades from now. But it seems if even Fate or Destiny or Luck or whatever you believe in isn't sure what to do with you. Either that, or your end will be interesting. "But enough of that. I can see you're tired, and I have a bed available. I suggest you spend time here." Lancos found himself unable to disagree, especially since Enn had been amazingly correct with his work. So he went to sleep. Though Lancos _had_ enemies, none where in reach, and this was probably lucky for him at this time, as he was partically suspectible. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: jpesonen@viikki.Helsinki.FI (JORMA JUHANI PESONEN (EKT)) Subject: [TW] Amachiak Notices old friends Message-ID: References: Date: Wed, 17 Mar 1993 11:09:25 GMT In article clay@austin.ibm.com (Clay Colwell) writes: >The gleeful grin >once again splitting the thick black fur of his beard, Eski asked, "What >do I need to know, and when do we start?" Amachiak cleared his throat and took a sip of his carrot juice. Then he looked nervously towards his mount who had immersed herself into the nuts in the bowl and was enjoying the taste of newly plucked forrest nuts. "Well, the situation here, mostly honored Half-Big One, is that our peaceloving people has been attacked by these horrible swamp monsters and lizardthings on top of them. They have attacked our hometrees and destroyed some of our finest and fairest cities build among them. Just a few days ago they kidnapped our beloved Queen and now we must get her back. I came here first to warn all these Big Ones about the lizard things and their malevolence, for they are attacking the Specificas down south, too. Then I heard about our queen and sent my companions back and started to recruit bold, fearless and brave warriors to this quest to retrieve our mostly beloved one. I found a party, but then again I lost them. The time and space around here is twisted and crooked and it doesn't handle us small folk with same kindness or tenderness as it does you Big People. This is the situation..." Amachiak raised his head and glanced around. Eski tried to look around, too, but there were too many people standing on the way. "Sorry, Sir Eski, but I must be going, for I saw a couple of those, with whom I started our quest over there. You are welcomed to the quest if you feel like it. Please, follow me to the table of my friends" Amachiak mounted ChikCha and steered her to the table were Moria and Ixy were waving at him. After dismounting, Amachiak looked the two, irritated. "And why on earth did you leave me in there, in the middle of nowhere, without saying even goodbye? Just when things were going so fine!" Eski pushed himself to the table and Amachiak stopped his rambling. "By the way, this noble Sir here is Sir Eski, and he will be accompanying us in our quest. Sir Eski, meet Ixnaphior, The Wielder and Moria The Runecaster." Amachiak, The Leader Of The Squiichar ChikCha, The Ever Faithful Mount Of Amachiak JPESONEN@viikki.helsinki.fi /// /// "Is all that we see or seem, There are realities /// But a Dream within a Dream?" Within realities, but /// Edgar Allan Poe THERE ARE NO ABSOLUTES MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: mba@controls.ccd.harris.com (Belinda Asbell) Subject: [Ga] Where are we? Message-ID: <1993Mar17.202029.16480@ccd.harris.com> Date: Wed, 17 Mar 1993 20:20:29 GMT The world faded.... The scene around her changed, and Khisanth felt a bit queasy all of a sudden. She reached for her waterskin and took a long draught, trying to keep the morning's breakfast down...A few moments of self-control should do it....there. much better. Khisanth looked up to see a man, who, while she battled her stomach, had introduced himself as Jaru. Behind him lay Garriot, encircled by magical wards of some type.... Khisanth looked around, and noticed that her travelling companions had arrived with her...except for Mathew. Perhaps he was just out of view? Jaru began to speak, and Khisanth listened... -- Belinda Asbell + System Administrator, Harris Controls Division mba@ccd.harris.com + Any opinions presented are mine alone. We are confronted with insurmountable opportunities. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: pjgeer@mothra.syr.EDU (Phillip J. Geer) Subject: [UnParty] How They Showed Their Maturity Message-ID: <1993Mar17.210942.13815@newstand.syr.edu> Keywords: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, SELF-CONTROL Date: Wed, 17 Mar 93 21:09:41 EST The three met under a streetlight. The wolf had slunk away to die from an unwholesome bite of pizza it had swallowed, so apart from a few drunken bums and the occasional heckler, they were left alone. Borean was having difficulty catching his breath, which is strange for an Air Druid. The others looked like they felt. "I've been booted out of parties before, but usually people just asked me to leave," said the Plant Druid. His vine had already begun to regenerate, but as it was still dark out, it would be several hours before it would look its best. "It's unthinkable that such hatred should exist in the world. Why, if I remember correctly, didn't the aerial servant say 'Everyone is invited?' If this is how they treat their guests in Generica, I'm just glad we don't live here." "I concur", stated Borean. "If Broadmoor was like this we'd have to take action. We could withhold rain from the crops and drive off the game. In a pinch, we could stack a high pressure system beneath a low one and just level the place with a cyclone." "Sorry fellows, but this ain't Broadmoor." Rustan walked across the street and tried to pat Borean on the back consollingly. Instead, his hand passed right through him. The Air Druid, exhausted, was merging with the atmosphere. So Rustan leaned up against the lamppost instead. "You guys know that things like this happen in strange towns. Why, half the towns on the Border would murder you on sight, just for the meat on your bones!" "Well, they should have warned us that they didn't want us around." the Animal Druid sulked. "They should have warned us", the three sighed in unison. Rustan ststarted to argue, but then decided on a different tack. "You guys are The Partying Druids. The Originals. If someone knocks up your style, if someone tells you 'you can't party with us', if anyone ever tells you 'You're not good enough to hang with us' , why then that's when you show em." "Right." said the vinedressed vagabond. "I'll cover that house with so many creepers they won't get out for a month." Rustan shook his head. "No, no not like that! Don't ruin their house. Don't you see, as ridiculous as it sounds, that is what they want! "What you guys need to do is show your self-control. Go back to Broadmoor. Look up another party. Look, guys, I'm as sick of this dam' town as you are. But I won't lift a finger. Oh no, I'm gonna show them all what a good sport I am and when I'm gone, if at least one person remembers how I held my temper, I'll have the vict'ry." "That idiot ranger's right. Let's go cruise chicks." Having said this, Borean began an incantation to transmute them into hyperparticles. A tear ran down the Animal Druid's face as he muttered "But I'll never forget what they did to you, Rex. One day, they'll pay for what they did to you. I swear." Rustan frowned at that, but before he could dissuade the embittered man, Borean waved his arms. Instantly, the three men began to fade as their particles shot into the heavens. "Borean! Wait! What about your Oxygen Bong?" A whisper:"Keep it! Remember us, Rustan! We'll look you up!" Rustan shuddered at that last remark. He watched the three leap from cloud to cloud as thunder claps resounded and lightning flashed. Alert for trouble, he watched until they dissappeared from sight, safe in their own happy world. Then he took a hearty hit off his oxygen bong and set off for the inn for a good nap. [ADMIN]: This occurs the night before Rustan leaves in search of the quite unseemly Roah the Conquerer. And speaking of unseemly, I do wish people would ask before they bash my creations, I would have said yes anyway. TAM-Man pjgeer@rodan.acs.syr.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kinsman@jupiter.sun.csd.unb.ca (Aphoriel/Kinsman) Subject: [Kal & Co] Later that night... Message-ID: <1993Mar18.154101.2009@jupiter.sun.csd.unb.ca> Date: Thu, 18 Mar 1993 15:41:01 GMT Ivy sat very still in her chair as Denner spent about half of the night explaining to her the events of the past few days, why he had brought in so many companions of obvious adventurer status, why he was forced to leave a barrel behind before it exploded (killing a contingent of city guards to boot), and most importantly, what sort of trouble he and the rest had gotten into, and who was after them... Ivy did not hesitate after Denner had finished to speak. "Denner, how did you get mixed up in this? All you had to do was ignore what was going on at that bar table. You could've just left those two, and went about your business, and be living a peaceful life right now..." "I don't know... it all started when I thought that Kal and Dramic were cheating at the drinking contest. I thought it was the right thing to do, and instead a bar fight broke out. Then Kal went missing... I thought the right thing to do would be to help look for him, and instead he was a hunted man, wanted by this big, powerful magician who wanted his hide. I thought it was the right thing to do to find a place for him to rest... instead we get surrounded by guards and run out of the city." Denner paused, turning one eye to Ivy. "And now, I thought it would be the right thing to do to get help from you..." "And you've put me in a situation I don't want to be, Denner." Ivy turned away and looked out the window. "I don't want to see you get hurt, but I can't ignore this feeling that you got into all this through pure foolishness, and you're looking for any help you can get... I'm your friend, Denner, but this goes both ways. You've put me in a lot of danger, too, just by being here, and staying long enough to be tracked..." Denner leaned forward in his chair and looked down as Ivy's eyes turned back his way. "I know that I regret getting into this. But I know I helped Kal in some small way out of his own troubles. And I thought if I could get your help, I could help him better than by myself..." "No, no, no, Denner." Ivy shook her head. "You shouldn't expect me to put myself in trouble for someone I don't know." Ivy stood up. "I'm going to bed now, Denner. We can move the barrels in the morning. After that, you and your companions should leave here by the afternoon." -Aphoriel/Kinsman Sean Givan MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kinsman@jupiter.sun.csd.unb.ca (Aphoriel/Kinsman) Subject: [Kal & Co] Sudden Siege, Part I Message-ID: <1993Mar18.154201.2194@jupiter.sun.csd.unb.ca> References: <1993Mar18.154101.2009@jupiter.sun.csd.unb.ca> Date: Thu, 18 Mar 1993 15:42:01 GMT Scott rolled over inside his tent, unable to sleep. The wind was keeping him from doing so: partly from the noise the wind made flapping the tent cloth, and partly from the fact that it was bothering him that he couldn't hear properly anything going on outside of the tent, what with the wind drowning out everything. The mercenary decided to stop bothering with trying to sleep. "What is it?" Meran's voice came from outside. Scott sounded like he was shuffling around in there. "I'm taking over the watch. You can go to bed now if you want." Meran hmmed. "Don't concern yourself with me. I'm not sleepy." Scott stumbled out into the moonlit beach, wrapping his blanket around himself as shield against the wind. "I'm not sleepy either. I'm taking over the watch for my own sake. Fine, then, we can keep watch together." Fifteen minutes passed as Scott and Meran looked out across the beach and coutryside in silence. "Lady Ivy's finally gotten to bed." Scott observed as the last light in the windows of the keep went out. "Mm-hm. Do you think Denner was able to convince to her to come along?" Scott shook his head. "Actually, I doubt it. Lady Ivy seemed taken aback to see us, and if Denner told her all that happened, I wouldn't blame her if she didn't come along." Meran thought a bit. "Let's hope that we didn't need her." Quicksilver turned his head towards the third tent. "Say, where's E'Karam? His tent's empty." Scott turned around to look at the flayer's tent. Meran was right; the entrance flap had come loose in the wind, and had flipped up to lodge against the front tent pole, revealing nobody inside. Scott looked around in consternation, then put his hands to his mouth and called "EEEE'KAA-" "Yes! What is it?" The unforgettable form of the purple creature appeared from behind one of the large boulders that littered the beach, far away and behind the other two. "E'Karam! What are you doing over there?" "Me? I'm just keeping watch, like you two. Meran, you missed a real important spot to look out for..." "What?!" Scott cursed himself for missing a guard vantage, and ran over to where E'Karam was, followed closely by Meran. "There! See?" As the two ran around the boulder. E'Karam pointed to what he was overlooking. "A five foot pool with tadpoles in it." Scott remarked dryly. "E'Karam, what is the point of guarding this?" "Hey, you never know! The Wyeriun is supposed to be a sea mage. You have to watch out in case these tadpoles mutate into a hideous man-eating monster! Or something..." Meran rubbed his chin and pondered. "Well, the pool is at the bottom of some hills..." "No, no, we can overlook the top of these hills from where we were standing." "Still, not the bottom of the hills.." "Meran, if anything comes overland from that direction, they'd have to cross the hills over the top to get to the beach. They can't, say, walk around the bottom of the hills or they'd be trudging through about six feet of water..." "Hmm, you're right. E'Karam, we don't need to guard here, it's covered already." "What? Aw, c'mon! This tadpole here looks really vicious. If the Wyeriun laid eyes on it, why, it'd be smashing the keep in ten minutes..." "We *don't need* to guard this place, E'Karam." "Ok, ok..." E'Karam gave in. Scott and Meran walked back around the boulder to return to their posts. As the two arrived, Meran pointed out to sea. "Hey, did you see something moving out there..." Scott peered out into the dark clouds over the water. Yes, there was some sort of movement out there. Big, and it didn't move the same way as the clouds or the waves. "Yes, I see it." Scott turned and walked briskly to his pack, and started unpacking his weapons. "It's coming towards us." "Scott, it's coming in *quick*!" Scott looked over his shoulder. The thing was over fifty feet tall and made of living, pulsing seawater, black and foul as the sea itself merely appeared in the middle of the night. It resembled a mound, with vaguely humanoid arms and a head. In the time Scott had trotted to his pack, the thing had crossed the entire length of the visible sea, and was now (standing?) at the edge of the shore, only fifteen feet of shore distancing it from the two adventurers. Scott swore and instinctively rolled behind a rock. His head peered above it as he eyed warily the water elemental which towered far above him. Meanwhile, Meran stared the water-thing full in the face in abject horror, taking slow and careful steps backward to no particular purpose. E'Karam rounded the rock, and pointed at the elemental, his tentacled face smirking at the other two. "HA! I knew it! A mutated tadpole!" -Aphoriel/Kinsman Sean Givan MagicHutchHeader Date: Thu, 18 Mar 1993 11:11:20 EST From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93077.111120ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: [UnParty] How They Showed Their Maturity References: <1993Mar17.210942.13815@newstand.syr.edu> >[ADMIN]: This occurs the night before Rustan leaves in search of the quite >unseemly Roah the Conquerer. And speaking of unseemly, I do wish people >would ask before they bash my creations, I would have said yes anyway. Well, lets see, your creations came into my house uninvited (I said that everyone at the Dragon's Inn was invited, not everyone in the known universe). You burned my plants. Your wolf urinated in my house. You drugged my guests. Need I go on? Needless to say that you did not show me the courtesy that you have just asked for. BUT since mistakes do happen and I am willing to give everyone a second chance, lets just chalk this one up to a lesson in APDI etiquette and leave it at that. "Can't we just all get along?" Love and Peace and Rodney King, -The Dreamer- MLK: An eye for an eye leaves everybody blind. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: jcarl@jabba.ess.harris.com (Darvos Metnar) Subject: [BBD] The plot thickens Message-ID: Date: Thu, 18 Mar 1993 18:36:57 GMT [ADMIN: Much thats go to Mike Sander and the Dreamer who contributed a significant amount of the following post. I loved it all, and hope you do too.] Lissa awoke fairly early in the morning, and made her way downstairs. She saw Darvos there as usual, but in an _unusual_ place; he was lying on a couch, asleep. Obviously his activities the previous night had tired him to such a degree that he hadn't had the energy to make it upstairs. Unseen servants had removed his shoes and covered him with blankets, but had not the strength or organization to carry him to his bed. Lissa let him lay there, even though it might cost her a hot breakfast. She did so because, as she reminded herself while munching on a piece of fruit, on the streets she would have been lucky to get old crumbs. Again she found herself thinking of her friends on the streets, and how jealous they'd be of her situation, and how they'd be without. She decided she would go to them, to receive the complements, as well as to bestow them with some of the food she could have in bounty, and heck, just to see them again. So, after eating, she packed some food in a bag and prepared to leave the house. Darvos still slept on the couch and she twirled the pretty necklace Darvos had given her when she could walk again. He had said it had sentimental value and he wanted her to have it. She smiled and headed out the door for the Low City. In her still-innocent mind, she didn't think of the need to "bother" Darvos by waking him, and even if she _could_ write, she wouldn't have left him a note. For she knew how to take care of herself. Such are the thoughts of an innocent girl who would generate more interest than she could possible know. * * * * About a half an hour later, in another section of Generica, a crystal ball glowed in a room occupied by a robed man. That fellow touched the ball with his hand, and another man's face appeared within it. A voice emanated from the ball, its raggedness matching the face's well. "Master. I have found the girl you are interrested in. She has the aura you told me to look for. She reappeared in Low City moments ago... , and she's alone." The receiver of this information turned his face away from the ball, and smiled. It had taken some effort to construct this type of communication network, particularly so that unwanteds like the Mage Guild couldn't intercept transmissions, but in cases like this it was worth it. But lest this minion feel he was overimportant, or expect a reward, it was best to put him in his place. "First of all," a soft but authoritative voice responded as the robed figure turned around. "do not call me _Master_. It sounds trite; if I adopted it, the next thing you know, I'd add a 'Dark' in front of it or some such flippancy. "What you _may_ call me is BBD. It is practical, being my initials and all, while providing the correct amount of respect-causing anonymity. Besides, you _would_ probably slaughter my true name, It wouldn't surprised me. "Secondly, it is not _I_ who is interested in the little girl, as much as one of my more important employees. I _do_ thank you for that minor tidbit, though. You are dismissed". BBD ended the conversation, grinning with the knowledge that the person on the other side of the line would be feeling basically lucky to be alive. With that affair concluded, BBD paused to think about the situation. He _might_ be interested in the girl, if Velric's plan was a success. That process would allow him to continue his own activities faster, with the same amount of safety. For that was almost as important as conquest for BBD, doing so without attracting undue attention. It wasn't bad enough that this town had a high population of nosy adventurers. Or that it had a powerful Mage Guild -- it might be warring right now, but he knew that a 'common foe' like himself could easily unite them. But there was also the Great Mother, who usually prevented others from dominating Generica by absorbing them. But right now, the Great Mother was in a weakened state, allowing someone like himself to "claim" some of the land while they could. So, if this girl, either in form or spirit, could help him with that, it would be to his benefit, to put it mildly. Yes, on something like this had potential for, it was best if he went himself. He shouldn't depend on his minions to do everything anyway, as that was the chief fault for many a fallen 'evil' fellow. * * * * Lissa continued at a brisk pace, part of it caused by excitement and the rest by a ingrained fear of what this place could hold in the way of danger. She was almost to a place where at least _some_ of her old friends could be found, but between here and there lay an open, deserted part of land, altered to discourage intruders -- with its bleakness and eerieness -- from reaching their hideout. And despite being familiar with it, it was doing its job well on Lissa. She pressed on, knowing that stopping would only make it worse, and turning around would defeat her purpose. Then a voice filtered from an alley, and physical manifestation gave credence to her terror. An image of a disgraceful-looking man, one with a wild look in his eyes, blood-stained clothes, and a menacing knife in his hand. "Well, what have we here?" he said, smiling and emitting a bit of cackle that Lissa couldn't help but chill against. "A little girl, _all_ by her lonesome? Well, I can surely fix _that_." As he stepped from the alley towards her, Lissa recognized from tales and loose descriptions -- for that was really the only way children heard of him -- that this was the Gutt Man, someone who killed children like herself for no particular reason save perhaps pleasure. Both her fear and the Gutt Man's hand tried to grip her and force her to stay put, but she shook them off, and started to run as fast as she could. The Gutt Man laughed hysterically, inwardly enjoying it when his prey forced a little chase, and followed after her. The Gutt Man licked his lips as he chased the little girl down another alley. His thoughts ran wild with visions of her torture, all to please his undying hunger. In truth, the Gutt Man was mad. He was as mad as you can get without sitting in a corner and shaking all day. This is the worst and most dangerous madness, especially for the Low City children. How many lives had he taken? He didn't know or care. As the pile of tiny corpses grew, they fueled his desire for more. He had become an artist, dealing out pain in new and interesting ways, each more horrible than the last. His knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on the knife. He had taken it from a man who just plopped in from another world, but instead of landing in the Dragons Inn, he had landed in the midst of the Low City... at midnight. Needless to say, 30 seconds later, the Gutt Man left the scene of the murder with a smile calling back "Welcome to Generica" to the unhearing body. Oh yes, the knife...it was sharp...so *very* sharp. Sometimes the Gutt Man wondered if he was being watched over by some dark diety who fed on the pain of others as he did his foul work. "Take what you will Dark Ones," he had once shouted to the moonless sky, "I'll have their lives, you have their souls, and the worms will have the rest." Followed by a fit of hysterical laughter. That laughter returned to him again as he chased the girl around a corner. She stumbled slightly, banging her leg into the side of a cart. The Gutt Man grinned a smile of black teeth. She was limping now. Soon, she would go the way of the others. He would teach her a final lesson in exquisite pain and shove her through death's door to eternity. * * * * Darvos arose, yawned, and looked around, surprised to find himself on a couch. He supposed that Elvish ale and staying out late had drained him more than he thought. He opened a curtain, and blinked when he saw how high the sun was. It was perhaps closer to lunchtime than breakfast. Darvos looked around for Lissa and was surprised, in that Lissa wasn't around. Darvos went upstairs, to see if she was still asleep or in the bathroom. When he had no luck there, he went back down to the kitchen to look for signs of her there. He saw that some of his fruit and bread was missing, along with a container of juice. Since the house was protected from thieves, it didn't take long to realize who had taken it. But why? Actually, that wasn't too hard to determine either. If Lissa had left the house with food, it was likely that she'd taken it to the Low City. She had been saying something about missing her friends and such. It was what she called "home" and the only part of Generica she knew well at all. Darvos quickly gathered several items that might be useful, including his magical sword he had worn when he use to be a warrior, and headed out. Darvos worried, because even though he wasn't good a divination spell, the ones he had cast to determine Lissa condition after the vampire attack showed that she could be in great danger. How it would manifest itself was unknown to him, but he did know that he condition as an innocent child tainted by the essence of a vampire was useful for certain maniacal rituals of magic. He couldn't help but worry about Lissa, and only hoped his skills at tracking -- albeit vampires -- would help him find her before anything dangerous did. * * * * Little Rat was quite rich nowadays. Over the past two months of the Cold Time, she had become an excellent story teller. Her story was always the same, the story of Prince Elfman and Princess Elsetree. She had helped the prince save his princess from the evil King of Spiders. She told of his kindness; he had given her a dress and some food without asking for anything in return. Of course, no one in the Low City believed her, but that didn't matter, as long as they dropped a few coppers on her blanket. Currently, she was in the midst of her story... "An' den da funny little man ganged up with us an' we went to the place with the pretty ladies. I sneeked in an' saw dis guard an' one a da pretty ladies doin' the bad thing. Da guard heard me an' chased me all over the house..." "...an' Elfman runned an' saved you," one of the gathered children said excitedly. "I were gettin' to dat part... Anyway, da guard was mad an' was 'bout to kill me with his sticker when Elfman came to help me. He pushed da guard down da stairs..." At this point, all those gathered heard two noises that turned their blood cold. The first was the scream of a young girl. It came from about a block away, but all those gathered could clearly make out the absolute terror in the scream. This point was driven further into their souls by the sound which followed. It was the hysterical laughter of a man that no one would mistake for sane. "...the Gutt Man..." wispers spread like a brush fire among the gathered crowd and then a silence fell over them. They looked at the ground or at a suddenly interesting pile of horse manure, but they did not look at each other out of fear and shame for not helping the girl. Suddenly made bold by her own tale of her brave adventures, Little Rat stood, paused for a moment, and ran off toward the direction of the chase. As she ran, she passed several adults who must have heard the sounds as well. They, like their children, immediately found something else to do. After all, it was not *their* problem. >From the intersection ahead, she saw the girl turn the corner and run closer. Knowing that the Gutt Man would be close behind, Little Rat hid behind a barrel and grabbed a stray plank of wood. Then, she waited. Her heart beat loudly in her ears as the adrenaline flowed. She thought back to a time when the Gutt Man had been chasing her through the city streets and no one came to her aid. The girl passed the barrel; Little Rat began counting ...one...two...four! With all her strength, Little Rat swung the plank of wood at shin level, catching the Gutt Man squarely on his right leg, just below the knee. His momentum carried him another five feet before he landed on his face. The Gutt Man rolled over and grabbed his leg. Blood trickled down his face in a steady stream from a cut above his left eye. When he caught sight of Little Rat, he forgot the chase, the pain in his leg, and everything else. For months, he had been searching the Low City for this child and now he had found her. * * * * Darvos had no idea how he was going to track Lissa down in the Low City. It was a warren of back alleys and dark doorways. The buildings were old and a built up upon each other cause the Low City to be a Labyrinth better than any Evil king could desire for his dungeons. Then Darvos remember the necklace he was going to give to his fiance 25 years ago. Lissa had found it when she could walk again after the vampire attack and Darvos had gifted it to her as a recovery present. He knew that necklace well. He search the ground quickly for a stick or something he could split. Finding a small twig of sorts he split it with the edge of his sword he had taken with him. It now looked like a divining rod. It was a relatively easy spell and he cast it on the twig and it began to twitch and vibrate until it aligned itself with the object he desired. Straight through that building there. Damn thing! Trouble with simple spells is they were stupid. Darvos started to wind in and out of the Low City's maze of alleys, slowly closing in on the necklace. A short while later Darvos felt he was getting closer. It was hard to track, because Lissa kept moving. And from what Darvos could figure out by rough triangulation she was moving fast. His heart was beating faster in agitation, when he heard the scream of terror. He looked up in worry "That was Lissa!". Steeling himself to concentrate on the spell, he was surprised to find the spell glamor had worn off. A second scream was heard and Darvos took off running. -- Joe Carl Jr. "It ain't what a man don't know that makes him a jcarl@jabba.ess.harris.com fool, but what he does know that ain't so." -- Josh Billings MagicHutchHeader From: fogelinc@pt.Cyanamid.COM (Carl Fogelin) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Kal & Co] Civilization! Yah, right... Date: 18 Mar 1993 19:05:56 GMT Message-ID: <1oah6kINNjet@c3po.jvnc.net> The past few days had been a real eye-opener for Kevin. It wasn't the surprise of not being on earth, or the use of magic and the fighting. The real surprise was how *soft* he was compared to his companions. He was tired and longed for his waterbed. 'I guess I'm too use to modern convience' sighed Kevin. He ducked his head into the basin of cold water and then grabbed the bar of yellow soap. Now that they were in a civilized place, Kevin's sense of personal hygiene dictated that he needed a bath and to wash his hair. But the opportunity to ask Wizard Ivy hadn't arisen yet, so he was stuck using a basin of cold water. He tried to lather his hair, but the stuff reminded him of Lava Soap. He ignored the pain and scrubbed harder. 'Well that was *rough*, but at least I got some suds. Now to massage it in...' > "Scott, it's coming in *quick*! Kevin stopped his washing and heard Scott swearing. He stuck his lathered head through his tent's flap to see what the commotion was about. >The thing was over fifty feet tall and made of living, pulsing seawater, >black and foul as the sea itself merely appeared in the middle of the >night. It resembled a mound, with vaguely humanoid arms and a head. >In the time Scott had trotted to his pack, the thing had crossed the >entire length of the visible sea, and was now (standing?) at the edge >of the shore, only fifteen feet of shore distancing it from the two >adventurers. "Oh shit..." was all Kevin could think to say. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Carl Fogelin (fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com) "All opinions are strictly mine" Up the long ladder and down the short rope, To Hell with King Billy and God bless the Pope. -- traditional MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: This Week in Review (Mar-13-19) Keywords: archives Message-ID: <1obmc1$f75@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Date: 19 Mar 93 05:40:17 GMT ADMIN: note, that due to time lags, some things may not reach my site until the week after you post them. To make sure a thread review or other article you wish included is included, please email me. ALSO - NO VIOLENCE IN THE DRAGON"S INN, NONE, AT ALL - any violent actions performed in the Inn will be considered a dream, illusion only visible to the poster, or something similarly ethereal. No matter how fast the attacker, Littlefair and Listener are faster, no matter how strong the attacker, Littlefair and Listener are stronger, get the picture? Newbie posts are forgiven, but it does not validate any actions therein. Just put it down to a bad dream. **** Due to extreme lack of submissions I am considering changing the **** purpose of the Review to being a thread catalogue and general **** annoucement forum. **** the thread catalogue may be tacked onto the Patron list and **** the announcement forum will *not* replace the Bulletin Board **** nor the odd ADMIN message. However it will be used for wide **** reaching ADMIN notices that do not fit into the Bulletin Board **** category, or aren't so urgent that they can wait a few days, **** thus cutting down the number of ADMIN's required. **** all feedback, comments, thoughts and criticism appreciated. **** its no point wasting bandwidth on an unnecessary service This Week in Review -=-=-=-=- Dragon's Inn and Newcomers Review: -=-=-=-=- sorry if you are new and I've missed you, but unless its pretty obvious (eg. New character enters the Inn) or you tell me, I could miss it. -=-=-=-=- those in the INN (added to and deleted from when I'm told to) -=-=-=-=- Karl, Lifilis Kloote, Colin, Alicia, Kryalla, Amachiak & ChikCha, Merol of Kirilin, Kirkil Uaiz & Xrxs -=-=-=-=- Thread Catalogue -=-=-=-=- [DB] title: Dark Blades contact: Morgan "the Dreamer" Broman notes: Dark Blades are a Low City-gang. They have killed/kidnapped Verden, third merchant of Generica and are framing Rameshan. They are also looking for an Artifact in the Shunned Center, AND carefully following the exploits of the Demon Spiders.... [TW] title: Twentlan Rescue Team contact : Jorma Pesonen notes: Leader of the Squiichar came to the Inn to gather a party to rescue the Queen of his people. Due to some space-time-continuum fluctuation the party left and vanished. Amachiak has returned to form a new group to find his Queen. [ST] title: Strange Tent contact : Jorma Pesonen notes: see in submitted reviews below [L&S] title: Luthor and Serene. contact: asg102@psuvm.psu.edu, alden@coos.dartmouth.edu official characters: Luthor, Serene, The Captain Primary Themes: Love, Family, Adventure, Enjoying Life, Good vs. Evil, Loss, and Revenge Secondary Themes: Meteorology, strained carrots, colorblindness. [MI] title: Moriarty Investigations contact: Aaron Humphrey involved: Dariel (Bernard Hsiung), the Mage Guild(common property), Jameson (Kelly J. Cooper), ...sage notes: moving towards story-telling mode Mostly an ego-tripping thread. ;-} Touches on the [DB] and [DS] threads; may brush briefly with the [SQ] thread. Will do anything for a reasonable price. ;-} [DS] title: Demon Spiders contact: Aaron Humphrey involved: Dark Blades (Morgan Broman), Nercrum(Chris Steiner) notes: Follows the exploits of the Demon Spiders gang, since they have separated from the [MI] thread--although they may merge back together at any time. [SQ] title: Shade Quest contact: Timothy Vaughan involved: aaron@atlantis.uucp, lapham3760@iscsvax.uni.edu, mabr@sweden.hp.com, djb6@midway.uchicago.edu notes: Some former members of the [R] thread returning to find their lost comrade Shade, somewhere under the Great Blue Ocean... [LQ] title: Lizard Quest (for lack of something better) contact: Jim Miller hadcrjam@admin.uh.edu involved: Colin, Thk, Sgt. Thorpe (NPC) notes: Colin Silvertree begins to search for the lizard man Thk and hopes to clear his name. Plot twists expected. [RATS] title: Rat Catchers contact: Hak Lien Chua involved: Higar (Hak Lien Chua), Git (D MORGAN), Firgun (Scott Bradburn), Bakr (Thomas Kettenring), a duck (NPC) notes: Searching the sewers for a real big rat and some fungi. [blade] contact Person: Daniel Reinker (dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu) involved: Meshtak, Arcadio, Chip, Gortok, Max, and Sir Tyrone notes: Battling the minions of Hendrix the Motherspawn [Kal&Co] title: Kal & Company contact: Brent Davis characters: Denner Train, E'Karam, Kalendraf, Kevin and Meran Quicksilver notes: Just getting started. The members banded together after being kicked out of the Dragon's Inn together following a drinking contest that nearly turned into a fight. [BBD] Contact: Mike Sander (344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu) Notes: The first thread named after the villian. Just starting, with room for growth (i.e., other PCs). See the reviews for updates. -=-=-=-=- submitted reviews to follow -=-=-=-=- ******************************************************************************** no submissions ********************************************************************* ********************************************************************* compiled by ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: jpesonen@viikki.Helsinki.FI (JORMA JUHANI PESONEN (EKT)) Subject: [Shadow] Yess, my friends, you will rule the Low City Message-ID: Keywords: Force, power, wealth, obedience Date: Fri, 19 Mar 1993 10:56:00 GMT //Yess, lost ones, time to find a pet for uss...// The night fell quickly as a curtain of black velvet. The city fell quiet except those few shrieks and screams of pain, anger and fright, that dotted the soundscreem of the city all the time. The Perfumerie Grand Veneur had closed hours ago, and as it closed, the silence engulfed it compleately. Not even a mice squeak came out of the building. And now, as the darkness spread it's tentacles all over the city, the building seemed even more dangerous as it had seemed to be in the light of the day. The door opened just a bit after the nightwatch had passed it, and a dark shadow glided out of the house. It blended compleately into the shadows and vanished silently into the direction of the Low City... //Seek, my lost ones, seek me the leader for my army...// "Oh shit", came a sound from an alley just outside of the Dragon's Inn. After a while a youngster came into the street pulling his trousers up, swaying from side to side. "Oh shit, I'm pissed", he said and trodded towards the door of the Inn. Just a few steps away from the door he slumped down. As he did so, came two stong looking hands right behind him and gripped him on the shoulders. The youngsters arms came up faster than the other had expected and he came free. At the same time came out from his tunic a long, sharp-looking knife some 15-20 inches long and thrusted back, towards the assailant. There was a silences shout of pain, as the knife cut deep into the bigger mans guts, and before he could react the knife struck again, this time on the back of his neck. There was silence, again. The something heavy was dragged into the shadows of the alley. "I say, I say. Nice income this night." A dark veil seemed to loat in the air and the youngster looked quickly up rising his Kirik-knife up into the striking position. the veil vanished as soon as the boy looked at it. He looked around, startled, shook his head and reumed his work. //Thiss might be the one, yess, this well might be// Boy came out of the alley, wiping his tunic. He began to walk towards the Low City, as if he was going home. He moved in the shadows, avoidin all the luminated spots on the way, walking round the Market Square, thus avoiding the tent and the queue towards it. He walked first towards the seaside, through the Market Square all the way down to the Port. There he turned towards south and followed the Shore Bulevard. Then he turned left, towards the center of the city. Not the Shunned Center, but the middle of the Low City's livable parts. There was a shadow waiting for him. Boy took out his Kirik and stepped into the deepest shadows. //Come now, boy. I'll make you the leader of the Low City, if you help me// The voice sounded ominous, he felt it in his bones as the cold breeze in the middle of winter, it made him shiver. //What you ssay, if we could talk?// That wasn't a question, but a statement, he thought. "What do you mean, the leader of the Low City? There are many gangs and criminal groups leadin this part of the City, so how could I lead this all?" //Let me tell you a story, Mirka Thulin. It is very simple.// ShadowMage, The Conqueror JPESONEN@viikki.helsinki.fi /// /// "Is all that we see or seem, There are realities /// But a Dream within a Dream?" Within realities, but /// Edgar Allan Poe THERE ARE NO ABSOLUTES MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac559@Freenet.carleton.ca (Ian Clysdale) Subject: [JOI] A New Beginning... Message-ID: <1993Mar19.214437.26112@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Fri, 19 Mar 1993 21:44:37 GMT ADMIN: As I said in the title, this is a totally new beginning of a totally new group. I don't really know where to join in with anybody, or the like, and haven't really seen any adventures I want to jump into yet. So, instead I'm going to start my very own thread, which has one rule: be ready to adapt. JOI stands for, for those who care, 'Join On In,' and this is my main rule for this thread... If you want to have your character come into this thread, please do have him join in. If you join in, don't expect anything to stay static; be ready for a change. Hopefully this will make for a more dynamic group, and a little less planned, and a little more fun. END ADMIN It is dark, well past dusk; the moon coming near to rising. The doors to the dragon's inn shiver, then are pushed open. In walks a tall, striking figure; pale white skin and blood red hair. A black cape covers the upper part of his body partially; a smaller loincloth the bottom. He wears red leather boots matching the hair. This strange character stands just outside the inn, the doors open, and shakes the dust off of his cape. It is clear that he has had a long trip, most likely in the deserts to the far south. He walks towards the bar, and sits down on a stool. He orders an ale, and sits down, looking around the bar at the assortment of people around him. "Well, at least I don't look to out of place here," he laughingly states. He drinks down the ale, and sits down at a table, looking at a map. "Yes," he quietly muses, "Yes this is the town." A large grin covers his face, to such a degree that his sanity seems questionable. Suddenly, the doors burst open again, but this time to a considerably less striking character. A three-foot tall man, with brown skin and black hair, runs in to the newcomer, and almost trips over his feet on the way there; eliciting a roar of laughter. The newcomer pants, "Elanon, Elanon, I've found it! Follow me! Follow me! Follow me!" Then the short man collapses on the floor of the bar. Elanon picks up the pygmy, and carries him out of the inn, back into the dark. -- Ian Clysdale | "You must break the rules, or Enemy of Discipline | else you will yourself be Disciple of Enimism | broken by them." ac559@freenet.carleton.ca | -Jason Hamilton MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Kloote] Medor keeps trying... Date: 20 Mar 1993 08:20:39 GMT Message-ID: <1oek4nINN52v@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> A small, black lizard sighs as it's nose bumps into the bottom of a glass. Colors swirl in front of his eyes and he feels light headed, for a moment. Whatever it is that his mage is drinking does neet things to him, things he enjoys a lot. It smells something like the stuff his previous mage drank every full moon, but he never got to taste that stuff. The other mage was always rather protective about 'his' stuff. This new mage, though, was quite too busy writing on strange papers and making the strangest faces at them. He looked even funnier through the side of a glass with colors zipping by. Somebody yelled out for an ale and Medor cringed. He felt sick and tried to cover his ears from every sound in the inn for another short moment. The everything was back to normal. He crawled out of the glass and over to the papers his mage was writing on. Kloote absently reached for his glass again and, finding it empty again, ordered another. The waitress arrived and handed another glass to Kloote. He took a sip and set it aside. Medor smiled at his new mage and crawled into the next glass... Grin - Medor the Night Lizard MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BH] Arthsplunt is confused (as always) Date: 20 Mar 1993 08:30:59 GMT Message-ID: <1oeko3INN5gd@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> "Um, If you don't mind me asking," Arthsplunt said as he absently stuffed the elven skull into one of his pockets, "if this Rayfus guy had a problem with your magick, why did he name you a paladin, and why don't you talk like one if you are, and what type of magick did your friend use, (what was his name?) and do you want the rest of your soup? No? Thanks." Satisfied with only one of his questions answered, Arthsplunt begins eating his second bowl of chicken soup. Arthsplunt Grigwald I MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AG] morning Date: 20 Mar 1993 09:24:36 GMT Message-ID: <1oenskINN8df@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> Toscon woke the the sound of what was now a familiar chant. /I don't want to see this,/ he thought. He didn't even want to smell it. Partially out of habit and partially to prolong the eventual event of opening his eyes, he took inventor. His sword pressed uncomfortably into his leg. His boots and most of his money was there. (As expected, his change purse was gone as well as the coins in his jacket pockets.) The urn was wrapped in a blanket beneath his head. His ring was there. His necklace. His teeth. His hair. /Aw, hell. I've gotta do it sometime./ He opened his eyes and sat up to see Effandir crouched over a fresh zombie. It appeared to be wearing rusty chainmail, a few blankets, and a knife. Efandir brushed his pants off and strolled over to Toscon. "So what's this one going to do? Search for your friend and get killed like the others?" Effandir glared at him. "No. I'm expecting trouble in the near future. This one will guard us if we are sleeping here." Toscon gave him a cold stare to which he replied, "Don't worry. She died in her sleep. Of natural causes." /Right./ Toscon re-wrapped the urn for better carrying as Effandir gathered his stuff together. /Two backpacks,/ Toscon thought. /He's got two backpacks, a horse, 5 purses, brown-grey "silk" clothes, and who knows wat else./ Toscon shook his head. Some people know how to live. He waited as long as he could, then jumped down the stairs, landing silently. The inn was almost empty. Splunk blinked lazily at him and gestured behind him where Ghurney was sleeping. "Gotta get your own food for a while," he said. Light was shining through the cracks in the walls, showing just how long the bar went. Toscon could never immagine having that many people in this place at once. Three people sat at a table near the fire, one short female, two mage-type males. They were whispering to each other even while gesturing dramatically. /Another stuffed backpack,/ he observed. He picked up the bowl and headed over to the pot. He held his breath as he spooned out some soup. Realizing that it wasn't the "special" that they served earlier, he risked taking a sniff. He almost sneezed. The smell of the gruel was still on the pot and mixed awfully with the overspiced soup. Walking over to Splunk, he asked, "What's the occasion?" It didn't take more than a second for Splunk to figure out what he was talking about. "Some dark guy came in here and gave me a load of coins to take messages for him. Didn't give me a chance to say 'no', not that I would have, mind you. We should be getting real food for a while at least." Toscon ruffled his hair and spun around to the occupied table. "You look the type that are planning something serious. Might you need someone who can fight amoung you?" MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac559@Freenet.carleton.ca (Ian Clysdale) Subject: [JOI] We're off to see the wizard... Message-ID: <1993Mar20.135602.9336@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Sat, 20 Mar 1993 13:56:02 GMT The tall albino strides out in the dark, carrying the pygmy with him, occasionally bending down to talk to him. The pygmy seems totally exhausted, as if he has spent days working on some task. But the tall man now seems to know exactly where he is going, and walks down the alleys and dark roads of Generica with a sense of purpose, a sense of usefulness. Suddenly, his stride stops. He turns, and enters into a doorway, the doorway of the Drift Inn. The laughter and talking stops for a bit inside, as they all turn to look at this figure; the albino with the blood-red hair. Elanon walks to a table that is sitting empty, and looks around disdainfully at the inn. He asks the bartender for his "special," and sets down the pygmy. Shortfellow slowly walks towards another table, and returns with another. Elanon looks up and smiles. -- Ian Clysdale | "You must break the rules, or Enemy of Discipline | else you will yourself be Disciple of Enimism | broken by them." ac559@freenet.carleton.ca | -Jason Hamilton MagicHutchHeader Date: Friday, 19 Mar 1993 14:32:46 EST From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93078.143246344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Dragon's Inn Bulletin Board [ADMIN: I missed a week due to the entity known only as "Spring Break", but it looks like things ran well enough regardless. Anyway, I'm back with yet more new stuff, and remember that additions, corrections, comments, etc. are always welcomed by me.] NEW THIS WEEK: Posted by: Kyar (Jason Rosenberger, rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet) Content: NEEDED: MASTER OF THE WAY My name is Kyar. I have had some type of accident that has robbed me of my memory. I am seeking a Master of the Way of the Mind to help me recover it. I am a skilled and experienced warrior, and am willing to work for these services as a mercenary or bodyguard, or any other need one would have of a man-at-arms. I am in room 32A in the inn if you desire to contact me. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Malthus Dela Noeuze (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Content: **************************************** ** Perfumerie Grand Veneur ** ** Is Seeking A Person To ** ** Find And Bring Back a Great ** ** Blooddrinker or Souleater ** ** For Perfumeric Substances ** ** All Contacts Considered ** ** ** ** Master Perfumerist Malthus ** ** Dela Noeuze ** **************************************** OTHER ACTIVE NOTES: Posted by: Imports, Exports, and Arms (Jeremy Nelson, gujn@uniwa.edu.au) Content: WE apologise for any time distortions in the local area, however, due to testing of a device (Henceforward known as 'The Thing'), the local timestream has become dislocated. There is no danger, however some people may undergo slight disorientation. Some people may apparently find themselves in multiple locations at one time. We assure customers that this is not dangerous, and all time lines are in fact continuous, and will straighten themselves out in time. We recommend leaving early for any important appointments. Normal service will be restored tomorrow, yesterday, in three weeks' time, and in three hundred and thirty years. All complaints should be forwarded to: Imports, Exports, and Arms. We thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Moriarty (Aaron Humphrey, aaron@space.ualberta.ca) Content: |-------------------------------| | Moriarty Investigations, Inc. | | | | Magic and muscle at your | | service! No problem too large | | or small! Reasonable rates! | | | | 15A-Gamma Cor Caroli Lane | | Just off the Arcade of | | Unforgotten Heroes! | |-------------------------------| -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Trawm (The Dreamer, asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Content: Attention all Real Men: If you is reading this then you is in the rong bar. Come to the Spitting Cobra were you can have a good time at a good prise. FITING ENKOURAGED. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Heinrich (Morgan Broman, mabr@sweden.hp.com) Content: =================================== | WANTED! WANTED! WANTED! WANTED! | | | | Good citizens of Generica. | | A number of murders have re- | | cently happened in our fair | | city. A few small clues have | | been found. If you have seen | | or heard anything that may | | lead to the capturing of the | | assassins, there is a reward | | of 10,000 Gold. | | If you have any information | | please contact Captain Heinrich | | of the Guard at the Keep. | | | | Council of Merchants | =================================== --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Scott Gillig (David Chase, starride@silver.ksu.ksu.edu) Content: NOTICE: I am currently looking for and at different types of employment. In brief I am a Mercenary. I have many other skills and have worked with many different people: Areas that I have a working knowledge of: Fighting Seigecraft Horsemanship (raising,riding,training) Blacksmithing Weaponcrafter Armorer Carpentry Ships mate Ship Pilot Ship's gunnery Water Nav Bodyguard (personal, and group) Caravan teamster, Roady for Carnival How wizards/mages work (not how magic works) Archery, Fletching, Limited Hunting I can and have dealt with the Otherside (underground) I know how to deal with nobles and wizards/mages I will always keep the best interest of my job and/or employer in mind in all my actions. If anyone is interested in possibly hiring me I will be here at the Dragon's Inn. Scott Gillig I am Scott Gillig. I am "Dwarf Friend". If you are interested in having a good warrior and human who knows the dwarf way, contact me. I have lived with the dwarves for one year learning your way, and have travelled with my best friend TAK (dwarf) for 8 years. I am Scott Gillig. I am "Elf Friend". I have travelled with different elves for over 9 years. I am knowledgable in your ways and customs. I am a good fighter and honorable man. I know the ways of the world and wood. The above note is still good. I have currently found temporary employment with a group needed one of my skill as a mercenary. I should return here in two weeks and will be seeking employment at that time again. Post any messages here or leave a message with Littlefair at the bar. Scott Gillig ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Melandra Flametree(mcspikgfm@cluster.cc.dundee-tech.ac.uk) Content: MISSING PERSON -------------- LOST: 1 person, fighter by profession, answers with oaths to the name "Cutsie". Last seen in Dragons Inn. Identified by lack of movement and total stiffness (possibly moving around by now). Wears armour and carries weapons. Tall, with muscles in all the right places. If seen or found, please contact Melandra Flametree at the Dragons Inn. Reward upon return, preferably alive. Melandra. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Posted by: Firecat (jurdm@valiant.vut.edu.au) Content: Adventurer looking for adventure. My name is Firecat, I have experience in fighting, and am a shapeshifter. I have the ability to shift my form to that of a six foot long flaming tiger. I've been out of work due to personal problems and am now ready to re-experience the sense of excitement that comes from doing a mission for the side of good. Firecat. SPECIAL STATUS: Posted by: ...sage (Pete Calvert, pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au) Content: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Immortalize your story for all to appreciate send a review of what has happened to you over the past week to ...sage and he will add you to the weekly listing of the one and only, and now revised: "This Week In Review" Find out what is happening in and out of our great city of Generica. Don't miss out on what is going on with all your fellow patrons in this weird and wonderful land. And let the others in on what has been happening to you too Send a brief overview of your activities over the past week to me by Thursday night (Friday morning for those from OZ and NZ) and it will appear in Friday's Review. All are welcome! -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Zenith (Mike Bavister, mrhyde@netcom.com) Content: ANNOUNCING THE A.P.D-I ARCHIVES I have been carefully recording all that has transpired here at the Inn and in Generica. I estimate that my archives are missing less than 1 in 100. The archives contain over 4600 chapters (articles) in 20 huge volumes (MB). Currently the archives are only indexed by Subject (Subject line), but my trusty scrives are hard at work attempting to compile a keyword-index by name, place, and "thread". Alas, this task may take a while. There are two methods by which you, the citizens of Generica, can access the archives (and their indexes). Via the Post-Office or by Magic. Via Mail: Send mail to the address below, with your request in the body of the message. I will then search the index(es) for you, and either mail you the matching "chapters" or a list of matches (if there are too many "hits"). Until the keyword index is compiled, I will be very reluctant to search the actual archives for your requests. TO: mrhyde@netcom.com. EXAMPLE: Dear Zenith, Please search your archives for all occurances of "Lancos" or "Zebron". Thanks. Via Magic: I have set aside a portion of my personal library for the Indexes and other materials of interest. If you know the powerful "FTP" spell, you can access the indexes directly. The arcane formula is listed below. This archive is "read-only", you may retrieve anything you like from it, but you can't place anything there. If there is something you'd like placed there for the benefit of all Generican citizens, let me know via mail. Do not forget to use "binary mode" for all files not in ".txt" format. The FTP library currently contains: Subject indexe s (no.1-no.3999) The Directory of Generica (lastest edition) JourneyGarb flyer/catalog APDI FAQs (full and mini) And coming soon: The DragonQuest Saga (we hope) *note* All ".zip" files are compressed using the latest state-of-the-art compression magic. Older uncompression magic may not work (use "zip19" or "pkzip2.04"). If you have any difficulty with either the transfer of files or decompression, please let me know. ftp netcom.com(192.100.81.100) login: anonymous password: (your e-mail address) cd /pub/mrhyde/APDI Cheers and happy reading ____ / __ __ o _|_ | / |__| | | | | |__ /___ |__ | | | |_/ | | Head Librarian of the Great Library of Generica DELETED THIS WEEK: Posted by: Lance Wolf (Christopher Motherway, wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu) Deleted due to: Quest starting (I think/hope...) Content: WANTED Brave Adventurers Wishing to help bring down the man called ROAH THE CONQUEROR of Kassandra Inquire to: Sir Lance Room 13A Dragon's Inn WARNING: This man is vicious and bloodthirsty Victory is NOT guaranteed and neither is your personal safety! ============================================================================ That's all for another week. See you next weekend (I hope)... Michael Sander -- Keeper of the Dragon's Inn Bulletin Board-- 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: clayton@austin.ibm.com (Clay Colwell) Subject: Re: [TW] Eski meets the group Message-ID: Date: Sun, 21 Mar 1993 21:31:00 GMT References: In article , jpesonen@viikki.Helsinki.FI (JORMA JUHANI PESONEN (EKT)) writes: [...] > Amachiak raised his head and glanced around. Eski tried to look > around, too, but there were too many people standing on the way. > "Sorry, Sir Eski, but I must be going, for I saw a couple of those, > with whom I started our quest over there. You are welcomed to the quest if > you feel like it. Please, follow me to the table of my friends" > Amachiak mounted ChikCha and steered her to the table were Moria and > Ixy were waving at him. Eski marveled at the supple grace the squirrel exhibited, as it leapt from chair to floor to table, skillfully avoiding the feet of the Inn's patrons as it made its way toward a table near one of the Inn's many corners, where two figures sat, one a human, a powerfully built male, and the other hooded, probably an elf, though it was hard to tell in the flick- ering light of the Inn. Eski lightly whistled. "Hey, Granite," he called. "Hop on; we have new acquaintances to meet." The parrot squawked, obviously annoyed, but it dutifully fluttered down to Eski's shoulder as he grabbed both his mug and the small bowl of seed Granite was pecking from. Competently juggling the mug, the bowl, and his staff, Eski jumped to the floor from the stool and set out to the table where Amachiak and Chikcha had just arrived. > After dismounting, Amachiak looked the two, irritated. > "And why on earth did you leave me in there, in the middle of > nowhere, without saying even goodbye? Just when things were going so fine!" > Eski pushed himself to the table and Amachiak stopped his rambling. > "By the way, this noble Sir here is Sir Eski, and he will be > accompanying us in our quest. Sir Eski, meet Ixnaphior, The Wielder and > Moria The Runecaster." > In a prodigious leap, Eski hopped on the nearest stool, deposited mug and seed, and pronounced, "Glad to meet you. Please, call me just Eski. I've no noble blood, nor have I earned its station yet." He held out his hand to the human, Ixnaphior, who shook it gravely. He then proffered the hand to Moria, who did not take it, but instead bowed her head briefly in greeting. "Well, Sir Amachiak has been telling me of the swamp monsters and lizard things that have kidnapped his Queen, and I'd like to help; I have some skill in magecraft. I've also adventured extensively, so I'm no stranger to the hardships of outdoor living." Smiling, he added, "I've done a fair share of rescuing, too. So, what's first on the agenda? What's our first step? Have the swamps been scouted yet?" -- Clay Colwell Profound quotes? Feh! archmage@vnet.ibm.com Disclaimer: The post above does not necessarily IBM Austin, TX reflect the views of IBM. These are *my* opinions! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Murder and War as a Way of Life Message-ID: Date: Mon, 22 Mar 1993 06:48:50 GMT The ratty fellow in the greasy olive-drab trenchcoat was going to be very wet, in mere moments. Two thugs were coming up behind him, rope in hand, ready to tie him up and, after some fun, toss him off the pier. The two were not large for thugs, and looked kind of worn themselves, thinned out by hunger and by too many kinds of addiction. They did this several times a night, generally picking out a harmless bag lady, or a wino or tramp or old down-on-his-luck sailor, knocking them out or tying and gagging them, then (after taking whatever bits of valuable they could find) hauling their victim to the piers, and then tossing them off into the water. And each time, the god would come, and feed them with the warm taste of fresh death and the spicy wine of the senseless murder. Then they would crawl back into their secret place in the sewers, and whisper urgently to each other in the dark as they frantically remembered each second of their murder, playing it over in their minds, again and again, until the pleasure was all gone and they were dead to the world ... then they woke up and the craving came again. They did it for the thrills, they kept telling each other. Nothing wrong with geeking a few worthless weirdos for thrills. Not as if anyone would miss them, nobody cared anyway. They had done this for five days, now, and the growing closeness of their bond, the deaths they had caused, the power it gave them, had begun to change them in ways they couldn't guess. The ratty fellow didn't even know they were there. They moved without a sound, even breathing in time with their victim, so he wouldn't suspect that they were coming. But, impossibly, he turned, and looked straight at them. His eyes, cold, like ice, the red ember of his cigarette shiny in the freezing depths of those eyes, held them locked in a sort of hot and cold hell. "Hello, fellows." His voice was nasal, soft, kind of ingratiating, but carried a sense of menace and insanity behind it - they might have felt fear at that threat in the past, but now it was nothing compared to the thrill of listening to a person thrashing, strangling in the mud and the shallow water, being chewed on by the sharks and the crocodiles... The lovely vivid images flashed by, death and misery, murder and menace, the thugs were frozen by his gaze, trapped in a loop of memory that was agonizing and vivid, by some vile magical accident the memories shared with the ratty man the way the thugs shared everything but their secret mutual hate. All their tawdry secrets were exposed by that stare, their games and pastimes, business and pleasure: they were master and slave, they were bully and victim, they were thief and fence, they were petty-lord and grovelling sycophant, and they were torturers and lovers and each despised the other for it. The constant intensity of the scrutiny was unbearable and horrible and unending. Something snapped inside. Too much, too deep, self-knowledge that was unbearable and shouldn't be shared. The ratty man walked closer to them, holding them trapped in his gaze, and smiled an evil little smirk. "You wouldn't know anything about murder, would you, boys? I think you might be good at it. I think all you need is some sharpening up, ahenh." He laughed a sick sort of chuckle, then blinked, slowly, taking a deep drag on the nasty-smelling cloveweed cigarette between his lips. The compelling hold loosened for a moment, the thugs exchanged glances with each other - run, or grovel, or try to kill him? Kill him, of course. They looked back at the ratty man - but he suddenly held a pair of small hand-sized crossbows, and the metal of the sharp, barbed heads of the quarrels glowed wetly with a viscous green poison that all of the many Low Town low scum recognized - Green Sally, the favorite blade venom used by the assassins who worked for the Prince. They knew all about Green Sally. She burned the skin where she touched, but if she got inside the skin, she was worse, she made her lovers break out into painful yellow boils, spreading under the skin, moving inward, until there was nothing but a mass of yellow goo in a skin sack. And the only cure was to eat powdered rubies or ground sapphires, at least a pound of them, or to go and grovel to the priests of Ilmater, who never healed murderers. And then the ratty man's cold stare was back, each glance tearing secrets loose, snapping off bits of their frozen souls - but it was strange, like the bits were numb, like they were dead branches being snapped off a tree, no pain, child and mother snapped away, father and teacher and friend, all gone but it didn't matter, businessman and student and musician and artist and storyteller and ... the thugs felt curiously light. Unencumbered. The left-hand crossbow jerked threateningly. "Put the ropes down, boys." They complied, throwing the ropes down with a jerk like they were asps. "Good. Now, sit down, and listen to me. I want you to do a little job for me. If you do it right, you'll be paid well, money to buy all the ropes and whips and all those things that your little hearts desire." He giggled, an unpleasant sound. "You, the one with the red teeth, what's your name?" The thug thought for a minute - he had a name, didn't he? Those cold eyes, made it hard to think. He didn't have a name? Oh yes, he did, of course. Before he met the god, they called him Red Teeth. "Redtooth Hork." "Good. Tell me, Mr. Hork, do you know how to drive a cart?" "I think so. Yes, I can drive a cart." "Good. You, the other one, with the feathers in your hair." "Stimsen. They're very nice feathers. I got them from pigeons I killed all by myself," the second thug began to drool. The first thug slapped him, embarrassed, and muttered to himself. This wasn't fun any more, they were going to have a nice little murder but this geek in the trenchcoat wasn't cooperating and now they'd have to find a new victim. "Listen to me, boys. You two are going to take a little walk now." The ratty man's voice was a compelling sort of sing-song, and the thugs found themselves nodding in time, moving their lips with each syllable. All other thoughts fled screaming, and they listened eagerly. "You're going to walk all the way back down the pier to the street, and then you'll take a left, and keep walking until you come to a yellow cart. You're going to get in the cart, and drive it into town, across the Crow bridge, and then you're going to find the Rameshand embassy building. Do you know where that is?" They nodded, jaws slack and flapping. "Good boys. After you get there, take the scroll from under the seat and hand it to the guard, and he will let you inside. Once you get inside, tell the guard at the door that you want to see Amaan, that you have a delivery for him. When he comes, you will know him because he smells like fear. Do you understand?" They nodded, grinning vacuously, remembering the smell of their victims, the old ladies and the crippled sailor and the kid and the drunk whore, all the same coppery tang, falling, bleeding ... "Good. When you see Amaan, show him the thing under the tarp in the back of the cart. Make him look at it. After he stops squirming, he will start saying a name. You two say the name with him. After that, you can kill him and then you can come back here and get your rewards. OK, boys?" They nodded dumbly. "Good. Go now." The two thugs stumbled off, back towards the shore, feet slapping faster and faster. Behind them, the ratty man shrugged his olive-drab trenchcoat up a bit tighter, and smiled, tossing the stub of his cigarette into the waters below. He lit another. Idiots, already more than three-fourths of their measly souls already killed by that wormwood god of theirs, but sending them would save killing any innocents. Two more stupid deaths, maybe three if somehow Amaan died, but they were necessary. The assassination plot was set. The bait, the balefires bomb, the hooks and traps all in place. If this "dar-i-el" creature was what the signs suggested, then there would be an end to all this nonsense very soon. ------------- 'Raelf was sitting in a white room with no walls. The room had fuzzy edges. This was normal. All twenty of the rooms in the Anamorphic section of the Lighthouse had fuzzy edges unless they were set to an environment. He stretched back, leaning on the hypothetical chair, and silently thanked his daughter again for the House module. It was kind of expensive, but House Arafael was fairly wealthy - Terhaec had contributed a wild sense of fun, and a knack for invention, and Maribel had contributed her foresight and her gift for knowing what people needed, and when 'Raelf and ar'Elya had joined them as their first offspring, they created from the fusion the greatest event-artist the 'kan had known in centuries. Silver Cat Enterprises was even a success in the Unchanging Lands away from sS'chS'ck'kan - and they were doing a fine job of marketing the games 'Raelf had adapted. 'Raelf had been grateful for the House module - it was beyond his means, after buying the Warpfield generator, and he had been looking at Raye living with him in his "Winnebago" - but that was just a five room vehicle like a cross between a Volkswagen van, a motor home, and a cut-rate TARDIS. It had barely enough room for him, his portable shop, and a few amenities. Raye had been even worse - all she had was a "tent", a single room, albeit a big one, where she could stash her trade goods and keep a small nest. But now, they had the Winny locked down in the garage, and with the House unit they could even have two Gamerooms. ar'Elya had suggested wryly that maybe the Gamerooms were to keep him working - Arafael made quite a profit on their cut from anything 'Raelf provided. He made a mental note to get going on the fourth Dragon Spirit environment. He looked at the display hanging in the air in front of him. Nothing. He strummed his fingers in annoyance. His MageFam 5^x was docked with the house's Pensare' system, and the interfaces were still arguing about who should be doing what. <> <<*accessing. please wait for decrypt. decrypt complete. please wait for decompression. decompression complete. please specify display mode.>> <> <> The room unblurred. He was seated in an amphitheatre carved from living stone (it still had a pulse) and below at the podium was the Guest Lector for the day, a gentle creature of the Ascetic caste. Having never taken living food, the Lector wore its original form, a tree shape with eleven branches, each branch terminating with a nearly circular spray of leaves, on which other archetypic shorthands danced - the phoenix at the root, the ankh at the heart, enlightenment at the crown... The Lector began to speak, and 'Raelf watched with pleasure and delight as its words shaped themselves to the nature of each listener. There was a pause. He blinked, bringing his attention back to the content of the lecture. :"Five there are of the person-nature who coalesce for Good, Five who for representation are the living embodiment at their Places, for the first Five great powers of Good": Over head, the sun writhed and twisted, a benign shower of gentle warm changing, projecting down on the places below a flux of meanings. The Lector gave a brief grace, and spread its leaves to absorb the flow. 'Raelf shuddered, trying to absorb what he could, but there was just not enough Life behind the solar wind, and he ended up letting it pool around him and sink into the rock. As the stargift subsided, the Lector returned to his topic. :"Faith first there is, which relates to Truth and is the stone that moves not, she forms her servants from those who will believe, and against her is set the Nayseer, the one who rose from the dark side of Truth to deny meaning. Her servants true form bear wings of flawless crystal": The Lector paused a moment, allowing the students to consolidate notes. :"Hope there is, who relates to Change and is the fire that lights the hearts of the living. He fires a beacon and builds of himself servants, whose wings are the power of what could be. Against him is set the Reaver, the one who from the depths of Change discovered only the end of Change. Their War is perilous and vast, beware lest you be caught in it and destroyed.": Another pause. <> - that was the whisper from two rows down and one seat over, a youngster from a family 'Raelf hadn't met at the time, an otter with deep blue eyes. :"Charity third is, who relates to Freedom, she is the rain on the parched earth, the gift of gentle healing given without thought to cost. From her wellsprings draws She servants who in their true form bear wings which are rushing torrents. Fearsome is she. Her enemy is the Scapegrace, the lord of greed and envy who found in freedom only the power to take from others. The War she fights is a subtle one, her servants are few, but each has great power and are not defeated, even in destruction": <> <> :"Justice fourth is, her other face is Mercy, relating to that controversial and feared archetype Righteousness. Justice is blind, and Mercy sees, and so they are at once at odds and striving together. They are the winds that move across the spirit, and their servants are many, their wings are the hurricane. Justice and Mercy contend against the Taker of Vengeance, and the Giver of Retribution . Their War is never subtle, but their servants are so: they are unseen, never easily named, for they move like air into the spirits of others, and depart when their influence is done.": The Lector paused a moment. The class began whispering, then stopped as the silence became more profound. :"Some of you percieve this as a farce. You are young and impatient, you have learned the lore of our race, the laws of magic and technology, the secrets and rumors and the common thought. You think that there is no value in abstrusion, in the musings of us few who were your first fathers' forefathers. You may never have to know these things I tell you. If you choose, like most of your generation have done, to remain in our own world, or never to go beyond the dozen dozen worlds of our neighbors, then you can never be in those places where the Wars rage hottest, you will not see the lands where our esoteric, useless philosophies are the rules of life. If you find no value in what I have said til now, if you wish to go, then I bid you leave now and may peace follow you forever.": A half dozen of the thousand, then more, and then over half the class had risen, flown, melted, flowed, strode, or skittered out the exits, leaving behind those who were either embarrassed, or truly interested. 'Raelf remained, as did two of his siblings. :"The last of the Five is hardest to tell. No one form, no one gender or body has it, its Place is all Places, and it is called Creation. It relates to the archetype of Will. The servants of Creation are all who exist, all beings which have choice. Creation is in constant conflict with its opponent, that which unnames and has no name, which is expressed in destruction. Many beings are servants of both. As you live you will serve the one or the other, and your life will be the struggle to choose which you serve. When you serve creation you will find that destruction still uses you, and you will have to learn to destroy only what must be destroyed to further creation. If you choose the other, then you will be unable to create except that which engenders greater destruction. Creation grows in the Void that is source to thought, will, and deed.": :"Finally, a warning. The Wars between the Five and their enemies happen at all Places and at all Times, even here in our own homeworld. The others, who left, may never understand this. The Wars are such a deep thing, so much a part of that which is Real, that no scrying, no future sight, no divination, not even the arts of the Great Diviners, can see the presence of any of these servants. They can only see the results of their actions. If any of you should go on to study at the Traveller college, or even to be fully trained as a Traveller, then you will be given the indicators to look for, those things which will tell you if the Place you are in will be endangered by the Wars. From then, it is your own responsibility which will guide your actions. We have no laws, no codes, no traditions, which can tell you what to do." The Lector froze in place, then faded. 'Raelf sat in midair, thinking over the lesson. It had been the reason he went on to Traveller College, the reason he had chosen to be an Artificer. Behind him, a door opened from nowhere. A figure in a greasy olive-drab trenchcoat stepped into the room, and gazed at him with ice-blue eyes. "Raye! Hey, what's up? You're still doing your Peter Lorre impersonation. Did you find out anything yet about the creature Amaan captured?" "Not yet. I have a plan in place which should reveal it." "Cool. Hmm. YOU have a plan? Who's going to die from it?" "Oh, just two thugs who were mostly dead already. I had a light snack, there wasn't much left after their god was done ... playing with them." "Another one?" "God of senseless murder and violent death. Not there physically, but it was watching them. It would have interfered but it found out my plan." "The balefire bomb? They won't be protected? I thought you were going to shield them." "Only Amaan. These two, their spirits are dead, nothing left worth keeping." "Felch. Raye, will you please change to a different face, you're making me feel like Mortimer Brewster talking to Doctor Einstein." The ratty man flickered and was replaced by a woman with red-brown hair, still wearing the trenchcoat. "You have a full archive recall setup here. What were you remembering just now?" "Last of the Fundamentals lecture series, did you take it?" "Of course, before I went on to College, it was required. You too, eh?" She looked at the cigarette in her hand with distaste, and with a flick of her wrist sent it out of existance. "Me too what, Carmen?" "You think this is a War?" "Fer shur. But, who are the sides?" MagicHutchHeader Date: Mon, 22 Mar 1993 09:43:58 EST From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93081.094359ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Kal & Co] E'Karam vs. The Tsunami Scene: A cold Winter's night. Two men and a Mind Flayer stand watch near the shore. In the background, the sounds of the ocean can be heard, soft and soothing. Behind the men is the tower of the Wizard/Alchemist Ivy. [Enter the 50 foot tall wave of animated water!] Something serious clicked in E'Karam's mind. This was no time for antics, this was a time for action. He didn't think that he could take out this water creature, but perhaps he could slow it down a bit. The training of his childhood came back to him in a flash and he remembered. With the pure force of his will, he reached out to the water beast, trying to touch its mind. In a moment, he had contact and heard its thoughts. E'Karam detected a strong magical force controlling the creature, forcing it against its will to fetch someone from the land. He tried, but failed to overpower this control. With little time left before the creature was upon them, E'Karam switched tactics. He focused his mind on the water in the creature. In his mind, he pictured the molecules slowing in their vibrations, expanding into their lower energy state...that of ice crystals. His tenticles waved fiercely in concentration, but all that came from his purple lips was "damn salty water!" The water being slowed its approach, its form filled with an icy mush...this would have to do. "Wake up the others, I can't hold this thing for long!" he shouted to Meran and Scott while he still faced the hulking form of watery death. Love and Peace and Davey Jones's Locker, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader From: fannicm@wkuvx1.bitnet (Master Hawk) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [TW] Eski meets the group Message-ID: <1993Mar22.104139.6458@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 22 Mar 93 10:41:39 CST References: In article , clayton@austin.ibm.com (Clay Colwell) writes: >> After dismounting, Amachiak looked the two, irritated. >> "And why on earth did you leave me in there, in the middle of >> nowhere, without saying even goodbye? Just when things were going so fine!" Moria shook her head in resignation. "We had no choice, Amachiak. It was leave or die...like Indigo did." >> Eski pushed himself to the table and Amachiak stopped his rambling. >> "By the way, this noble Sir here is Sir Eski, and he will be >> accompanying us in our quest. Sir Eski, meet Ixnaphior, The Wielder and >> Moria The Runecaster." >> > In a prodigious leap, Eski hopped on the nearest stool, deposited mug > and seed, and pronounced, "Glad to meet you. Please, call me just Eski. > I've no noble blood, nor have I earned its station yet." He held out his > hand to the human, Ixnaphior, who shook it gravely. He then proffered the > hand to Moria, who did not take it, but instead bowed her head briefly in > greeting. > "Well, Sir Amachiak has been telling me of the swamp monsters and > lizard things that have kidnapped his Queen, and I'd like to help; I > have some skill in magecraft. I've also adventured extensively, so > I'm no stranger to the hardships of outdoor living." Smiling, he added, > "I've done a fair share of rescuing, too. So, what's first on the > agenda? What's our first step? Have the swamps been scouted yet?" "Our first step is to get back to the swamp, but this time I believe that there may be a faster way to get there. Amachiak, do you know the general location where your queen in held? If I can see an image of this place, I can teleport us there, thereby making up much of the time that we have lost." -=-=-=-=- _ _ _ _ , ' ) ) ) _/_ ' ) / / / / / __. _ / _ __ /--/ __. , , , /_ / ' (_(_/|_/_)_<__ [ADMIN: I am over the Bug from Hell and an even worse case of Writer's Block, so, now let us return to the Story. This new Thread is named "The Ghost and the Machine", or "GATM". For the newbies, here's a brief recap...] *** While waiting for Farrel to wake up so I could sneak out with the arrow, I reviewed the case in my mind. One: I was murdered by this arrow. Made by Farrel, tipped with Drow poison, which he gets from the Demon Spiders. Farrel thinks he sold it to Numbers, one of Creft's men. The arrow's too big for a short bow and the wrong make for a crossbow, so it had to be someone tall enough to use a longbow. Means no dwarves, gnomes, goblins, halfings kobolds and a lot of the other demihuman races. Two: I'm not dead-dead, because I'm a ghost. I was bound to the Low City alleyway, living off of the emotions of people who passed through. When Cheyenne Kron died, her death scream, amplified by the group mind of the Big Bad Mother, supercharged me so I could leave the alleyway. Or at least that's what a couple of wizards ('Raelf and ar'Elya) said. Three: I was backshot by someone on the roof during the day. This meant that the assassin a> knew my hiding spot and b> wasn't afraid to come out during the day. So it wasn't likely to be a Drow (not suprising, actually, the Demon Spiders gang didn't get along well with Creft's network) or some sort of undead ghoulie (also not suprising, Creft didn't deal much with necromancers). Four: I'm not known to be dead, though I have been gone long enough for my office to get re-leased. Folks at the Dragon's Inn know more gossip than my Aunt Grundy, and they didn't know, so assume nobody was crowing about snuffing me. Five: Creft is also dead. According to 'Raelf, he was killed by the teleporting Waster Blink, on orders from Seer, who was some kind of pawn of the Mother of Creepy Charlie. It was all part of some sort of frame job on Kron that really backfired. 'Raelf's mate, ar'Elya, who has more bodies than a cemetery, said that since Creft's death, his gang's been fracturing, though she expects one of his Inner Circle to make a move soon. She also said the Wasters are reorganizing, the Demon Spiders are up to something, the Shunrunners are making money hand over fist somehow, and that there's something strange going on at the Mage's Guild. Six: I was getting really tired of waiting. I thought about ditching the arrow, and walking through a wall, but for some reason I didn't want to dump the arrow yet. After going over it all in my head, I decided that Numbers was the next person to talk to. Next gnome actually. But how to find him? *** In a cavern under Low City..... A strapping, handsome man stands boldly before an altar. He pulls a midnight black dagger from beneath his DARK cloak, and holds it overhead. "My Queen." he intones. His voice echoes in the darkness. [YES, MY SERVANT?] "I desire a servant of my own." [FOR WHAT PURPOSE?] "To bring power to my organization. To bring the UnderCity under your control. With the Back of the Great Mother br-" [DO NOT SPEAK HER NAME. SHE RESTS, FOR NOW. BUT THE SLEEPER WILL AWAKEN.] "Apologies, My Queen. But, Her control of the dark corners of the city is, for now, broken. The factions are squabbling. The Mages' Guild is too embroiled in their own politics to intervene. The time is ripe to bring the dark underbelly of Generica under your rule." [THIS IS TRUE, SERVANT. WHAT DO YOU OFFER ME?] The huge man gestured, and a black cloak covering the altar vanished, revealing a struggling form. A gnome, to be specific. It struggled against its bonds. It's wrists were bloody from the effort, but the DARK knots were too tight for him to loosen. "A vile creature, one who dares to live in the Undercity. Your realm, my Queen." [AND WHAT DO YOU WISH FOR A SERVANT?] "An assassin. Who can strike without being seen, who can slay in your name, my Queen." [ THAT WAS ONCE YOUR JOB, SERVANT.] "Ah, but now I must organize, and prepare the city for your inevitable rule." [THIS IS TRUE. VERY WELL, I HAVE SUCH A SERVANT, ONE WHO IS FAMILIAR TO YOU. GIVE ME THE SACRIFICE.] The man's face twisted into a rictus of glee. He took the midnight dagger, and held it before the eyes of the terrified gnome. "You know, I don't see how you stand it. " Spiders, ranging from the size of a fingernail to the size of a cat, began crawling up the altar, and dropping down from the ceiling. The gnomes eyes bulged out in horror, and he started shaking his head violently. The man cut the gag in the gnome's mouth, in anticipation of the screams of anguish. "notrealnotrealnotreal" the gnome chanted under his breath. The spiders, crawling all over him, paused for a moment. "" shouted the man. The gnome shook his head violently. Angered beyond belief, the man plunged the dagger in the gnome's heart. "Was that real enough?" He stabbed the gnome again and again, until the gnome's chest was a mass of gore. [TSK, TSK, CYNDAI. YOU DISSAPPOINT ME. HOWEVER, THE SACRIFICE WILL SUFFICE.] Dark fingers reached through the walls and reached into the corpse of the gnome. Picoseconds later, in the heart of the Shunned Center, a dark figure materialized. It looked around. [Oh, How the mighty have fallen.] DO NoT MOck Us GODLinG. We SHaLL ReCoVER. [Is that so? You are nothing. Less than nothing. Manipulated without Your knowledge by the Artifact. Controlled by a Child. Laid low by Human trickery. You delude Yourselves.] WE ShALL PrEVAiL. [You can barely speak in your own chamber without My help. I now walk in Your Sanctum, where once Gods trembled. However, luck is with You, for I have no claims on You or Yours. I merely have to... pick something up.] The cloaked figure turned away from the pit. She concentrated, and her perceptions shifted. She staggered, for a moment, and then stood strong once again. [I underestimated your apatite for death, Motherless One.] Ignoring the wailing spirits trapped in the Lair, She reached out, and touched a small figure on it's back. It was curled up in a ball, rocking back and forth. It was trying to weep, to sob, to cry out against its fate but any tears it once had were long gone. And any throat it had was absent as well. [Little ghost, come with Me.] Confusion/Fear? [Hmm, you have been down here a while. Well, this will clear your head.] The energy it collected from the death of the gnome flowed through the goddess, and into the curled up figure. [Now, what is your name?] The tiny figure looked up at the goddess. It's face was screwed up in confusion. Its lips wobbled, and then the confusion passed. "Bogo?" it said. -- Rick Jones "I was asking myself, why would anyone try to ionize albert@bcm.tmc.edu glial cells using a pulse-encoded tachyon field stream?" Systems Support Center "I've often wondered that myself." Voice: 713-798-7352 -Dax and Sisko, DS9: The Passenger MagicHutchHeader From: zweldron@ruhets.rutgers.edu (Matthew Charlap) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [TW] Eski meets the group Message-ID: Date: 22 Mar 93 19:41:56 GMT References: clayton@austin.ibm.com (Clay Colwell) writes: > In a prodigious leap, Eski hopped on the nearest stool, deposited mug >and seed, and pronounced, "Glad to meet you. Please, call me just Eski. >I've no noble blood, nor have I earned its station yet." He held out his >hand to the human, Ixnaphior, who shook it gravely. He then proffered the >hand to Moria, who did not take it, but instead bowed her head briefly in >greeting. Quite a straight-forward kind of guy, Ixy thought to himself, almost too eager. "Pleased to make your aquaintance," he said non-comittaly as they shook hands. Initial suspicions were reduced somewhat with a cursory glance into Eski's thoughts- but of course it was impolite to actually dig for something, and IXy had no reason to probe into him- yet. > "Well, Sir Amachiak has been telling me of the swamp monsters and >lizard things that have kidnapped his Queen, and I'd like to help; I >have some skill in magecraft. I've also adventured extensively, so >I'm no stranger to the hardships of outdoor living." Smiling, he added, >"I've done a fair share of rescuing, too. So, what's first on the >agenda? What's our first step? Have the swamps been scouted yet?" "Well, some magical aid could be useful, especially after the last foray into the woods," Ixy whispered to Moria. Then to everyone, "An extra hand is always useful to have on a rescue mission." He turned to Amachiak. "About leaving you- apparantly one of those time distortions that run rampant here caught us. We were attacked, and we were unable to locate anyone else before we left. At least now we have a better idea of what we are up against." -- --Matthew Charlap ------------------------------------------------------------- This is STILL a test of the .signature If this were a real .sig file, something else would be here, not just a name. MagicHutchHeader From: hilanse@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Wonko:Athorbalo:Eldarath:Bossie:Return Message-ID: <1993Mar22.163726.6472@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 22 Mar 93 22:37:26 GMT It had been a long week for everyone on Daytonus' home dimension. Wonko and Athorbalo had enjoyed a particularly stressless and slightly boring respite. Eldarath had merely wandered through the huge libraries and the huger beaches of the dimension, combining both activities, and succeeding in little else besides getting sand all over the books. Bossie was rested, and, luckily for Daytonus, had remained in her normal cow form throughout her stay. The Kneeknobs hated being servants to the universe and never getting a day off from their jobs, much less an entire spring break. It just wasn't fair, they thought, that everyone else should be able to rest, while they ran errands, cooked, cleaned, and just about everything else for Daytonus' guests. The Kneeknob pilot throttled back on the shuttle and turned on the storm machine. He pressed the release button and the startled passengers were all distributed to various places near their points of origin. The pilot decided he'd have a talk with his employer, or rather his former employer. He armed the guided missiles, charged the particle beam, and input the coordinates for his home dimension. He activated the hyperspace drive and contemplated his next pay raise. Bossie looked into the sky, not quite remembering what she had just been through. She trotted off towards Farmer J2BR's barn. The Kneeknobs were ok, but she really missed the way Farmer J2BR milked her at the right time, every morning. Eldarath sat in the middle of the road, covered with dust, he stood and shook out his cloak. He picked up the books he had swiped from the Daytonus Metropolitan Library and walked towards the Dragon's Inn. The Kneeknobs were a trusting bunch. Wonko and Athorbalo were annoyed, their kiss had been interrupted by the damned matter transference beam. Not the beam, actually, the jolt from being teleported back, exactly two inches from the ground. Wonko bit his tongue, and Athorbalo got a bloody lip. They kissed gingerly, and held hands. They reoriented and began walking towards Generica again. Life is back to normal. So to speak. Don't Get Hit By A Bus (C)1993 KneeKnob Publishing --What's a Kneeknob? ---I dunno. --Should we try to figure it out? ---Naah, let the madman tell us in his own time. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: clayton@austin.ibm.com (Clay Colwell) Subject: [TW] [ADMIN: Eski's mind] Message-ID: Date: Mon, 22 Mar 1993 23:17:04 GMT References: To all Players/Writers in the TW thread: Eski has a very open mind whenever he doesn't bother to shield, which is most of the time. He will shield when necessary (e.g. to prevent enemy scryers from picking up info). On Eski's mind right now are a jumble of things: excitement at the thought of adventure, fear at the thought of encountering dragons possibly, satisfaction at having picked up a large amount of copper Generican currency recently, and calculation as to how to set up a gemworker's shop in Generica after the adventure, as well as curiosity about the swamp, things needed to rescue Amachiak's queen, and the adventurers now seated at the table. One advantage of Eski's thought processes: he gives most mind readers a headache if they scan him too long. -- Clay Colwell Profound quotes? Feh! archmage@vnet.ibm.com Disclaimer: The post above does not necessarily IBM Austin, TX reflect the views of IBM. These are *my* opinions! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kmwilcox@iastate.edu (Kevin M Wilcox) Subject: [Mr B] Mister Boddy Returns Message-ID: Keywords: mister boddy eustace crimpin noeuse Date: Tue, 23 Mar 1993 02:00:48 GMT Eustace Crimpin slumped on his stool, resting his forehead on the bar. It had been a rough month for him. He had lost all his payment for the last sale he had made. He tried to get in business with one of the merchants in town, but with no money of his own to invest, he had to start working around the docks just to earn the money to stay in his hotel room until his opportunity returned to Generica. And this morning would be his last there if his absence was noticed by the foreman. This was the fourth Alphan Piday since Mister Boddy and his associates had left, and Eustace was beginning to worry that they might not return. Eustace had been unable to secure mithril for them, but he hoped to get an advance, because they paid with perfect emeralds, something impossible to find anywhere within several months' travel. They had promised to return on Piday, but when three passed without them, he had lost most of his hope, along with all the sailors and lowlifes he had goaded into waiting with him. Quietly, he slid to the floor and passed out. The door opened quietly and three young men entered. The first wore a clean white tunic, pants, boots, and belt and a beat-up, gray fedora. The other two were bareheaded and dressed all in black, one a full head taller, the other that much shorter. "Dana, sit Mr. Crimpin up at a table," the first man told the tall one. Dana picked up the merchant and dropped him in a chair as they all sat around the table. The man in white ordered something to return Eustace's sobriety. When the merchant regained his composure, he explained his situation. "And that is why I have nothing, Mister Boddy." "That is not a problem. We only came to say we have all the mithril we need, and we wish to sever our ties with this area," Boddy told him. "What??!!" Eustace screamed. Several people turned to look at the table. He became embarrassed and lowered his head to the table, his eyes still on Boddy. "If you leave me hanging now, I'll be stuck without a job! Or worse yet, working the docks!" he continued under his breath. "You gotta do something! Take me with you wherever else you're going! Something!" "We will pay you for your trouble and make certain you have what you need here in Generica." He handed the merchant an emerald of good size and perfect quality. "Don't lose this one. Every one which is seen in town lowers the value of every other. Now we should pay for some of your necessities." The four men stood up and left. -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* After leaving Eustace at his hotel, where his bill was paid for the next six months, the three visitors were walking through town. "Are we leaving now?" Dana inquired. "Not just yet. Heidi will be disappointed if I go home with nothing for her. She's already upset I've been running all over a hundred different dimensions working on this project. More rubies aren't going to be enough anymore. She's finally decided the natural gems really aren't all that much better than the ones I can make her," Boddy explained. He paused for a minute and sniffed the air. "Smell that, Evan?" he asked. "Yes. I think she'd have to love it," the shorter man answered. They all turned up the Arcade of Fountains and found the source of the scent, the Perfumerie Grand Veneur. The shop was open, but no one seemed to be inside. Dana waited outside while the other two ventured in. "Hello? Is someone here? We'd like to make a purchase here," Boddy called. "Evan, can you find the perfume we smelled before? I'm going to see if someone's here." He started walking deeper into the shop when a man in bright robes came out from the back room, nearly tripping over something the others could not see. Boddy laughed to himself, but no one noticed. "Ah. Hello. We'd like to purchase..." Evan handed him a small vial. "Some of this." The man stared at him for a moment, then nodded silently. He pulled out a handkerchief and twirled it in a rehearsed manner. Boddy grinned and took another of his perfect little gems from Dana, who had come in after the shop owner appeared. "Will this be sufficient?" The man nodded and took the gem back to the other room. "He seemed overly pleased." "There are about a dozen vials of that fragrance here on this shelf. It's not nearly the rarest or most valuable here," Evan told him. "You probably paid him ten times its value." He looked concerned. Boddy nodded. "You're right. However, we should stay uninvolved. We do not know or understand this world," he said. "Also, if Heidi asks, this is such an extremely rare and valuable scent the shopkeeper cried when we bought it. I guess that's all. Let's go." They left the store and started toward the docks. "I'll be glad to go home," he mused to himself. "All this travel has grown tiresome." -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Eustace became restless in his hotel room and opted instead to go down to the docks and quit his job. After a hot bath and some careful grooming, he put on his best robes and started marching through town. As he neared the office of the dock foreman, he spotted Dana on a ship leaving port. Looking closer, he could see Mister Boddy with him. He kept watching as they disappeared below deck, and the ship disappeared into the sunset. When it was out of sight, Eustace straightened his robes and marched toward the office. When he arrived, he saw that the foreman was over by an unloading ship. As he started toward him, there was a loud whipping and cracking noise and several workers began yelling something he couldn't understand. Eustace looked up to see a giant wooden crate dropping right toward him. He leaped out of its path as it crashed into the dock and splintered, sending fruit flying over him into the water. He stood up, disoriented, and fell backward, right off the side. "Eustace!" a man's voice yelled from above. It was his foreman. "Where have you been all day? I've put up with this enough! You're fired!" Eustace grabbed a bobbing piece of fruit, took a bite, and sank out of sight until the foreman left. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* | K. M. Wilcox | | Mister Boddy | *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*"So, Professor Jenkins!... My old nemesis!...*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* | We meet again, but this time the advantage is mine! Ha! Ha! Ha!" | *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: aaron@atlantis.uucp (Aaron Humphrey) Subject: [SQ] Jailbreak Message-ID: <1993Mar22.230811.1638@atlantis.uucp> Date: Mon, 22 Mar 1993 23:08:11 GMT Characters involved: The Kelsie, Remi, Vanshar Characters introduced and then killed: Taeper, Cyrel, Renni, Veik Characters introduced and not killed: Ezimeti, Ghuone, Cinodras, Thag, Veik Getting into the Gaps was easy. Getting into the sewers was all it took, and that was easy for the Kelsie's slightly less than corporeal form. From there, with the map in her head, it took only a few minutes to find the route down to where the real path started. Still, the sewers were not the most pleasant of places. The odour was bad enough, for one used to the perfumes of Fairyland or, more recently, those of Pashar. In her semisolid form, some of the odours were almost material barriers, which she threaded carefully, not wanting her essence polluted. There were the trails of unwholesome spirits as well. She caught the distant whiff of a great evil, long-slumbering and recently awakened. Probably that creature Maleiu had told them about. She shuddered. Still, it wasn't going to be an active threat to her. It was the Bain Sidhe, or their local equivalents, that she was worried about. After all, the presence of those Fairy words had to have attracted some others of her kind. She just hoped they were of the bothersome rather than the dangerous variety. She felt more than a few shades in the sewers--many had met gruesome and violent ends here. But they didn't bother her, barely reacting to her presence. It was flesh they sought. Once she was down in the Gaps proper, the shades became fewer, since this place was less-frequented. Only those who knew of it came here, and they guarded their territory jealously. There were live humans down here as well, and she tried to steer as clear of them as she did the traces of the Bain Sidhe she found occasionally. She noted, as she wafted through the tunnels, that there were differences from the maps she had seen. Some tunnels were new- and roughly-hewn; others were clearly older than the maps, but had nonetheless not been marked. But then, the maps had been from the original plans for the sewer system and maintenance tunnels, and perhaps deviations from the plan had not been recorded. Still, as long as the tunnels that formed her chosen path were there, she didn't need to pay much heed to anything else. As she progressed further, the traces of Bain Sidhe grew stronger, and she found herself more and more taking side routes to avoid it. But soon she was surrounded by the stench of evil, and all the paths onward seemed to lead into it. She hovered for a time, considering. She had a choice. She could backtrack and take one of the paths through the humans' territory--but returning with the man she sought would be more problematic that way, since they could ignore her but not him. So she would have to try one of the unmarked tunnels and hope it led her the right way. She could feel the moon's passage far above her, and knew that her time was limited. Saying a swift, matter-of-fact prayer for luck, she went back and took the first unmarked passage she encountered, one of the older ones. At first it took her far from her course, but soon it turned back towards her path. There were no traces of either the Bain Sidhe or the humans, and soon she flew onward with confidence. Until the ground opened up beneath her, and she stared aghast at the huge fissure. It was far too wide for a human to cross unaided, and she couldn't carry one across it on her own, either. She had too little Fairy Dust left for anything useful. She sighed. The human couldn't return this way. They would have to face the humans on their return. Better that than the Bain Sidhe, though. Soon the tunnel merged back into those on the map, and she progressed with more confidence. The smells of danger were behind her, and she was almost at the dungeons. *** Taeper noticed that he was drifting off slightly at his station, and pulled himself back awake. This post was pretty easy, usually. The last escape from these dungeons had been...well, at least before that Kloote guy had come in, and that one didn't count, really. The oldest Guardsmen Taeper had met just barely remembered it. Something to do with an earthquake, anyway. These guys weren't too bad. Pirates, he'd heard. The officers, some frog and a rag-head from Rameshan, were kept separately from the rest of their men, who were upstairs somewhere. They kept mostly quiet, muttering to each other, and the like, although the rag-head had given him a few nasty looks. Screw 'em, anyway. The worst part about it was the Seaguard. Few of the Guard liked the Seaguard, who mostly acted so stuck-up, like their job was more important. Bunch of arrogant assholes, really. And they came down here and ordered him around like they were in charge of the place. He'd like to see one of them try surviving in the Gaps, or the Low City. Not that he'd like to go there himself... *** The Kelsie peeked into the Dungeons. One guard, although probably more within calling distance. A few dweomers, most of them weakened with time and by some past stress. That fellow in there looked like the one Bronwen had described, and his scent matched. Now it was just a question of getting past the guard. He was drifting a bit into dreamland, and a few of his thoughts leaked through. She perused them curiously. Hmmm. One of these "Seaguard" people would have the authority to take the captain away. Perhaps if she pretended to be one of those, the imposture wouldn't be noticed right away. *** "Guardsman!" said an imperious voice behind Taeper, causing him to jerk fully awake again. He stood up to attention, and turned to see a Seaguard officer standing behind him. How the hell did he get in? He couldn't have come down the stairs...nothing back there but a few disused cells. Probably some sort of surprise inspection, in which case Taeper had probably just failed... "Yes, sir!" he yelled. "What's your name, Guardsman?" "Taeper, sir!" "Right. Now, Taeper, if you'd be so good as to get out that Captain in that cell there. I have to take him away, Seaguard authorization." Taeper relaxed slightly. Not an inspection after all. This was highly irregular, but then these Seaguard idiots didn't pay much attention to the rules if they didn't feel like it. He'd let the Seaguard take responsibility for this one. "Yes, sir," he said, going over the unlock the door. *** Remi had also been dozing in the cell, when he heard the Seaguard's sharp voice. So they're coming for me, then, he thought. Then his brain cleared a little. He had thought they would be trying him and Vanshar at the same time, as per Seaguard custom. Was this something else, then? "On your feet, scum," the Guard said as he unlocked the door. "You're to go with this Seaguard, and don't make any trouble or it'll go worse for you. It's not like you can escape anyway." "That's enough, Guardsman," the Seaguard said in a sharp voice. "You are Etienne-Remi de Revimer, former Captain of the pirate ship Cote d'Azur?" "I am," Remi said. "Then come with me. Thank you, Guardsman, that will be all." *** "Sir?" The Seaguard turned at the Taeper's question. "I need a name, in case they want to know on whose authorization this was done." "Kelsie," the Seaguard replied. "Colonel Kelsie." With that he turned and marched Remi down the disused hallway. "Sir?" Taeper said again. The Seaguard turned in exasperation. "What is it, Guardsman?" he asked in a dangerously low voice. "The exit is that way, sir," Taeper said. The Seaguard looked nonplussed for a moment, then snorted. "You haven't heard about the trouble upstairs, then. The normal exit is temporarily considered unsafe. There's a secondary route through here, which you're probably not important enough to know about. Now, Guardsman, are you quite finished impeding me in my duty?" Not waiting for an answer, he turned and marched Remi down the hallway and out of Taeper's sight. *** Remi tried to judge his chances of escaping. If there was trouble upstairs, and he could get past Colonel Kelsie and the Guardsman, he might be able to get out. If he had time, he could even take Vanshar with him. The grip on his arm didn't seem especially strong... "Remi," a voice whispered in his ear. A feminine voice, one that he hadn't heard before. He jumped slightly, and turned to look at Colonel Kelsie. "Yes, it's me." Colonel Kelsie's lips moved, and the words appeared in Remi's ear without seeming to cross the air between. "Bronwen sent me here to rescue you. She needs you to help her. She said to tell you it involved captaining a ship." Remi froze. He was being rescued? Bronwen was rescuing him? But how? "What sort of creature are you?" he whispered, his arms prickling. "A Kelsie," she(he?) said. "Everyone just calls me that, because most of them don't know my true name. You can call me that, too. Now, c'mon! There's an exit to the Gaps here. We should get gone before that Guardsman gets suspicious." "No," he said. "What?" "No. If I'm being rescued, I'm going to take Vanshar with me. He's my First Mate, and he got into this because of me." A nagging voice said, if it wasn't for him, you wouldn't be a pirate in the first place, but he ignored it. "If you got me out, you can get him out too." The Kelsie shook his head. "Nothing doing. Bronwen only told me to get you." "Then I'll get Vanshar. You wait here. I'll be right back." He wrenched free of the Kelsie's surprised grip and ran back down the corridor. "Lugh save me," the Kelsie muttered. Then she turned and ran after Remi. *** Since when did they have Colonels in the Seaguard, anyway? Taeper thought. And this whole "trouble upstairs/alternative exit" thing sounded more and more fishy the more he thought about it. He went to ring the bell to bring the Corporal down--he'd be pissed, but he'd be even more pissed if Taeper just let a bogus Seaguard walk away with a prisoner--when suddenly he heard running footsteps behind him. Turning, he put his hand on his sword hilt and started to draw it. Remi barreled into him, driving his shoulder in Taeper's chest. The Guard went down. His leather armour had absorbed some of the impact, but he was still stunned for a moment. Long enough for Remi to pull the Guard's dagger from its sheath and hold it to his neck. "Make a noise, and you're dead." Aw, hell, Taeper thought. They're not going to leave me alive anyway. A sudden streak of heroism surfaced, and he filled his lungs to scream. No sound came out. And then the dagger bit into his neck, there was a fluttering of black wings, and then no more. *** Remi dug the ring of keys from Taeper's pocket, and started stripping the Guardsman. "You get Vanshar out," he said, tossing the keys to the Kelsie. "I'm not leaving without him, so you can explain that to Bronwen if she asks. Or I will." He started pulling on the Guard's clothing, shrugging a bit at the fresh bloodstain on the collar of the tunic. He belted on his sword-belt, testing the balance of the weapon. Good reliable Guard issue, if nothing special. He heard the click of the lock, and then Vanshar was at his side. "Good work, Captain," he said admiringly. Remi handed him the bloody dagger, and the Rameshander wiped it off on Taeper's still-warm flesh. "Too bad he didn't bring a change of clothes with him." "Bronwen can get you something when we get out. Yeah, this is apparently her idea." Vanshar laughed. "Still got a way with the women, my Captain, eh? C'mon, let's get out of here. I presume we have a nice escape route?" "Follow me," the Kelsie said, somewhat resigned. She didn't like this Vanshar guy any. She wondered if, the tables turned, Vanshar would have gone back for his Captain. *** Back in the Gaps, she abandoned the Seaguard form and said, "We have three choices of route back from here. One of them, there's a deep chasm. I don't think you could get over that. Another, there's a Bain Sidhe--an evil spirit of some kind. Its traces indicate that it's evil and rather deadly, but limited in how far it can go. The third has the traces of several humans." Remi and Vanshar exchanged glances. "I'd take the humans anyday. You can at least try to reason with humans," Remi said. "Or kill them," Vanshar added. The Kelsie shuddered again. "Okay, that way it is, then," she said. "I'll scout ahead, and leave a trail for you." She shimmered into her incorporeal form, and floated ahead. "Some kind of djinni, I guess," Vanshar said. "Always good to have on your side, but they can be a bit fickle. I remember what happened when some marid had it in for the captain of my first ship." Remi nodded. "Let's get moving, before they change the Guard and find that guy's body. It may take them a while to figure out which way we went, but that time is best spent getting as far away as we can." They started following the Kelsie's trail, a softly glowing track in the air. *** "There seems to be five of them," the Kelsie said, returning from her reconnaissance. "All male, all human. They seem to be cooking some dwarflike creature on a spit." She shuddered. "How are they armed?" Remi asked. "Their weapons don't seem to be in that great condition--some rusty knives, and some spears made with knives strapped to sticks. One of them has a sling, I think." "Primitive...but they do have the advantage of numbers. I think the direct approach might be best, if we can take out one or two before they have a chance to react." Vanshar caressed his knife. Remi said, "On the other hand, we could be a bit more subtle. Kelsie, what kinds of things can you do?" "Well, I'm an air spirit. I can change my form, and do things with air. What did you have in mind?" *** Ezimeti had been living in the Gaps for three years now, ever since he joined Six Feet Under. Pickings were a bit slim right now, but Ghuone kept saying things would get better. Still, it was a better life than growing up in a poor Etarus'ian family in the Low City. Less competition. Here you only had the occasional T-croc, and Cinodras' spells kept those out pretty well. The gully dwarf on the spit was pretty well done. Ezimeti was currently in pretty high standing, because he'd been the one to find the gully dwarf tunnels, and so far they'd been able to nab four without any trouble. His mouth was watering. If the others didn't get back soon, then they'd have to go get their own... "That smells good," Veik said from the corner where he was dicing with Ceryl. "You sure we can't have any yet?" "Not till the others get back," Ezimeti said. He wasn't going to admit he'd been thinking the same thing. He had a new standing to uphold. "Hell," Renni muttered. "What's takin' 'em so long, anyhow? Ghuone said they'd be back by now." "Cinodras had something to do in the Mage Guild," Ezimeti said. "I think he may be trying to apply for membership again." They all guffawed, except for Thag. He just grunted. He'd never figured out how to talk, but he was good to have on your side in a fight. "What the hell'd you say that for?" Ceryl said unexpectedly. "Say what?" Veik said, nonplussed. "Well, you're a scum-sucking ratbag!" Ceryl leapt at Veik and the two of them tussled on the floor. "Thag, get Ceryl," Ezimeti said. "Renni, help me with Veik." When the two of them were separated, he said, "Now, Ceryl, what the hell'd you do that for?" "Veik said he caught me screwing the dead gully dwarf, and asked if I got it from my mother." "I said no such thing! You were the one who said I was a scum-sucking ratbag." "I didn't hear anything, Ceryl." "Me neither." "None of us heard that, Ceryl." "You're saying I'm crazy?" Ceryl snarled. "Mebbe you are," Renni said. "Hell, Cinodras gets like this sometimes. Mebbe yer a wizard too." They all laughed at that one, except Thag, and Ceryl who muttered and subsided. "I meant it, Ceryl," Veik said. "Your pa got you on a dead T-croc baby, because that was the only thing his dick'd fit into." This time Ceryl pulled out his knife and leapt onto Veik, who protested, "I didn't say nothin'! I didn't say nothin'! I--urrg." Ceryl's knife went into Veik's throat several times. Then he subsided again. "You--you did hear that, didn't you?" He looked a little scared. "Yeah, we heard it," Ezimeti said. "Mebbe Ceryl was the wizard, eh? He just forgot to make us all not hear it that time." "All right, you killed me," Veik's voice said. They all turned to the corpse, which didn't look like it could do much more than gurgle. "Yeah, I'm a wizard. But ain't you ever heard what wizards can do after they're dead?" A misty form rose from Veik's body and started to keen. There was general panic at that. The gang members started fleeing in all directions, depending on what exit they were closest to. Ezimeti tried to get them in order, but his voice didn't carry, and eventually he broke and ran as well. Thag looked a bit confused, but followed Ezimeti as he left, at a lumbering run. *** Renni and Ceryl ran almost right into Remi and Vanshar. Renni impaled himself on Remi's sword as he rounded a corner, and Ceryl took Vanshar's dagger in the eye. "So far, so good," Remi muttered. "I don't think you want their clothes, though." Vanshar wiped off his blade with distaste. "I think I like what I've got better." He was still dressed in the dungeon loincloth. "Okay, guys, let's go," the Kelsie's voice said in their ears. "That was very unpleasant. Maybe a few more dead spirits don't bother you guys, but they make me very uncomfortable." "Can we get past them now?" "Yeah, the other two ran off down the same tunnel, but we can get out from the other one. Follow me." The three of them set off down the tunnel, to the chamber where the gully dwarf's corpse on the spit was starting to get a little burnt. "Even I'm not hungry enough to eat that," Vanshar muttered as they passed by it and into the tunnel. *** Ezimeti and Thag almost ran into Ghuone and Cinodras, returning from above with a sack. "Whoa!" Ghuone thundered. "Where's the fire, guys?" Eventually Ghuone managed to get Ezimeti coherent enough to describe the fight and Veik's death. He turned to Cinodras. "What do you think?" Cinodras snorted. "Utter rubbish. There's no way that Veik was a wizard. And even if he was, he was by no means powerful enough to leave behind that kind of spirit when he went. I wouldn't, and I could've told if Veik was better than me." They returned to the chamber, where the gully dwarf was definitely getting burnt. Thag took it off the spit, and the others investigated Veik's body. "No sign of a spirit about. Where did the others go?" They found Cyrel and Renni's bodies a few hours later. After much argument, they finally roasted Cyrel and threw Veik and Renni to the T-crocs. They fed well for several days thereafter. -- ---Alfvaen(1920 Books, 1082 Albums, And Counting) "I believe there comes a time when everything just falls in line." --Pat Benatar Current Album--Deacon Blue:When The World Knows Your Name Current Read--Sean Russell:Gatherer of Clouds MagicHutchHeader From: jcp@trident.usacs.rutgers.edu (Jonathan Petersen) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [Ga] Hawksholme... Message-ID: Date: 23 Mar 93 04:24:31 GMT References: Zebron Twilight wasn't having a good time. The mysterious hermit he was talking to had used some sort of magical spell to whisk the dark elf and his companions to a cave where their missing companion, Garriot, lay in a cocoon of silver energy. Well, most of his companions anyway. Mathew was no where to be seen. Immediately, the drow was suspicious. His fears were set aside somewhat when Dusk, his raven familiar, indicated that the hermit was not responsible for his missing friend. The paladin's destiny simply lay elsewhere. The bird knew alot about magical travel, enough to navigate the pair through many worlds and realities, that Zebron took it seriously. And he knew from experience not to question a raven when it spoke in riddles. But now to the matter at hand. Zebron calmly asked the hermit, Jaru, to make his intentions towards the group (and Garriot in particular) known. >Jaru chuckled. "And now you're expecting a long rambling story from a crazy >old man, correct? Well met, Zebron Twilight. Be at peace, for neither you >nor any of your companions have aught to fear from me." 'That's exactly what you'd say if we should fear you,' Zebron thought. He was suspicious, but then again he always was when magic spells had been cast at him. He was a sorcerer himself, and knew the power of magic. >Turning back to Garriot, he gazed down at the entranced warrior with an >expression of mingled sadness and fondness on his face. "Old friend," he >murmered, almost to himself, "Have you forgotten so much? And when you >remember, will you thank me for it?" Almost casually, he muttered a few words >of magick over the prone form, and the aura glowed a bit brighter. With that >he turned back to the rest of the group. >"I suggest that we discuss this outside. The sun is bright, the day is warm, >and this dank cave chills my old bones. Besides, the Spell of Restoration >will take some time yet to complete..." 'And this way the dark elf will be as blind as a bat,' Zebron finished the sentence in his thoughts. Perhaps he was being too suspicious, but something about the set up cause him to be on guard for something, anything. He feared a trap. The drow rose to suggest that they remain in the cave. Dusk cawed, causing Zebron to pause in mid-step. Mentally, the bird berated him for the way that he was acting. Here he was, a drow always complaining about and striking at the prejudices of others, succumbing to that very vice. Taking the easiest path instead of the more difficult one. Wrapping himself in blind safety measures because it was easier than giving a stranger his trust. Zebron stood up a little straighter, and squared his shoulders. With a purposeful stride he went to the mouth of the cave. "Let's go then," he said, waving his companions forward, hoping that Brent was able to notice the delicate patterns his fingers waved in the air: a set of signals in the silent code of thieves that would put Brent on his guard and expect a trap. He was trusting, yes, but not stupid. -jak MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] Off to See the Wizards... Date: Mon, 22 Mar 93 21:47:07 CST Message-ID: <16B991325B.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: [AU] Andrea Sheryl unicorn Andrea blinked as the early morning sunlight fell across her face. What--where was she? She sat up, looked around, her dagger appearing in her hand. It was a bedroom--no, it looked like lodgings in an inn. And then Andrea recalled the previous day, how she and Sheryl had barely escaped from those raucas sailors, then found their way to the inn, and met 'Raelf and ar'Elya...and then she remembered the notice on the wall, and her subsequent breakdown. Oh, gods, she thought, I really must have embarrassed myself. The dagger disappeared, almost without conscious thought on Andrea's part. She looked around, and saw Sheryl dozing at the foot of the bed. Even as her gaze fell upon the young unicorn, Sheryl opened her eyes, then got to her feet in the awkward way all resting equines do. She nickered a good morning greeting. Andrea pushed back the covers and noticed that she was still fully-clothed. Well, that was hardly unusual. Nowadays, she slept with her clothes on more often than not. Her choice of profession warranted this precaution. Andrea smiled wanly at this thought. "Who would have thought it ten years ago, Sheryl, that I'd be a thief, and you'd be..." She stopped, not wanting to say it yet again. Sheryl sensed her pain and walked over to the side of the bed. Her equine body language managed somehow to convey that it was all right, the past was the past. Andrea sighed. "Guess I must have made something of a fool of myself last night, eh Sher?" Sheryl shook her head firmly, in a manner indicating that whatever else Andrea might be, she was certainly not a fool (at least not to her). Andrea smiled. "Thanks, Sheryl." Andrea climbed out of the bed and checked her possessions. Her haversack was leaning against the bed; a quick check through it indicated that nothing had been taken. The secret pocket seemed untampered with, though she had little time or desire to count the money secreted within to be sure it was all there. She shouldered the pack and walked out. Sheryl followed, her hooves making little "clop-clop" sounds against the wooden floor. The tavern room was mostly empty at this hour of the early morning, the only current residents being a few coffee-drinkers and some still-snoozing drunks. There were also a few darkly-robed people in about five or six of the corners, but they seemed to be a permanent fixture of the place, kind of like the furniture, so they almost didn't merit mentioning. The innkeeper, whom Andrea had heard called Littlefair, was standing behind the bar polishing a glass. Andrea sat down at the bar and said, "Thanks for the room last night. What do I owe you?" Littlefair shook his head. "Don't thank me, young lady, and you don't owe me anything. It was 'Raelf who paid for the room and made sure you were comfortable in it. I had little to do with it." Andrea blinked. This came as a bit of a surprise. "Very well...what can I get for breakfast around here?" Littlefair mentioned the choices; it was relatively simple fare but sounded quite good to Andrea. She ordered a hearty breakfast; with what she had planned for today she knew she'd have need of it. "And I would like something for Sheryl; do you have any oatmeal porridge? She likes it hot, with just a dash of brown sugar." "Coming right up," Littlefair said, and true to his word, in under five minutes their breakfast was ready. Andrea and Sheryl ate, and then Sheryl plunked down a few silvers on the table to pay for the meal. "That was quite good." "Thank you," Littlefair said. "Do you know where I might find 'Raelf?" Andrea asked as she turned to go. "I would like to thank him for his hospitality of last night." "You might try asking at the Wizards' Guild," the innkeeper suggested. He walked to the door and pointed down the street. "You go down there, then you..." He gave her detailed directions, then as he returned to the bar, Andrea pulled out a gold coin and tossed it to him. "Thanks," Andrea said. Then, "Come on, Sheryl...we have a Guild to visit." Once they got outside, Andrea said, "So, 'Raelf's a magician, eh? This gets better and better...maybe he can help us!" And with that, the twosome started off down the street, following the directions Littlefair had given her. If it had been the Andrea of several years previous, her mind would have been abuzz and her spirits lifted with hope that a wizard could help her, but by this time she had long since lost much of her faith in wizards--none of them had been able to help her before. She was more looking forward to the chance to thank 'Raelf properly and apologize for any embarrassment she might have caused than to see about securing an end to the condition which had caused her and Sheryl to wander nearly from one end of the world to the other. As for Sheryl, she capered down the street, thoughts of angst and suffering farthest from her mind. Andrea almost envied her that. It was in these frames of mind that Andrea and Sheryl walked down the street toward the Wizards' Guild. ADMIN: If you want to join this thread or use my characters, please email me at CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU or CHM173S@SMSVMA. I will be only too glad to let you help out; I just have to be sure that it doesn't go against the character concept I have set up for Andrea and Sheryl. Thanks!!! -- Chris Meadows || Read A BAROQUE FABLE, by CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || Chelsea Quinn Yarbro! CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || Read DREAM PARK, by CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || Larry Niven & Steve Barnes! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu (christopher motherway) Subject: [Raoh] Nearing Kassandra Message-ID: Date: Mon, 22 Mar 1993 17:33:32 GMT Midnight has settled in the land north of the DiamondGate. The forest was silent, save for the crickets' chirping. Not a creature stirred to disturb the group as they had called it a night. They had been travelling for a little over a week now. Through Blaze and Baff's calculations, another week or so was need to reach Kassandra, to reach Raoh. They had come to a clearing and set up camp, eating what was left of a vicious unknown beast they had killed just after going through DiamondGate. Everyone was STILL wondering how Pantora was able to lift Firecat up so that he could strike the beast down. Pantora said nothing, just smiled in satisfaction. Brycur had the first watch this night. He was looking back at the group, feeling that they were coming together rather quickly. At this rate, they should be ready for Raoh when they get there. Suddenly, Shadow awoke and started sniffing in Brycur's direction, bristling and emitting a slight growl. Brycur turned fast and drew his sword. Something was out there, in the trees and bushes. He listened more closely. The stir of a single leaf would not go unnoticed. A snap Brycur heard above his head. The merchant quickly slashed the branch directly above him and rolled out of the way. He turned to see his suspicions correct: the group was being watched. The fallen man shook his head and stood. Before he could move anywhere, though, Brycur pointed his sword toward the man's sternum and said, "I wouldn't try anything were I in your shoes, buster!" "Please," the man said, in a serious voice, "I mean you no harm." "Yeah, sure. Want to tell me why you were up in that tree?" "I was just observing you, wondering who you were and why you have come here." "I really don't think that's any of your business, pal!" Suddenly, from behind the man, Sir Lance said, "Brycur, what has happened?" The rest of the group was awakened by Shadow's growling and the racket cause when the branch fell. Brycur, not letting his eyes off the man, said, "I found this person snooping around, Sir Lance. Says he wants to know why we are here." Lance asked Blaze to create a light spell if she could. Blaze obligated and light shone around the group. Lance observed the man. He was about 6 feet in height, strong build, long pale white hair (though he looked no older than 25), no weapons. Lance then questioned, "Why were you watching us, stranger?" The man again replied, "I meant no harm, no sneak attacks, Sir Lance. My name is Ray and I was just wondering your reason for being in this forest." Lance saw the expression on Ray's face and just knew he was telling the truth. Nevertheless, he replied, "We are a group from Generica, a city many miles from here. We are going to Kassandra to take on the man known as Raoh the Conqueror." Ray said, "I wouldn't go there, adventurers. I am from there. I have seen Raoh's work firsthand." Brycur pushed his sword a little closer to Ray, saying, "Well, we are not you, are we?" "Brycur," Lance sternly said, "Put down your weapon." "WHAT?!? This guy could've killed us all!" "I said, 'Put down your weapon'!" Brycur was not used to taking orders, especially from someone he met only a few weeks ago. But, he knew the look in Lance's eyes. Slowly, carefully, he lowered his sword. Lance said, "I know do not trust this man, but let us give him a chance to explain himself. If his is indeed from Kassandra, and knows about what Raoh has done, perhaps he can become a great asset to us." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Ray chewed on a few provisions he had brought along and told his story: "I have lived in Kassandra my entire life. When Raoh the Conqueror appeared, I tried to help in defending the town, but he was just to powerful. Amazingly, he left most of the buildings standing, including the dungeon. The people he didn't enslave or kill, he let go on with their business, only under his supervision. I was one of those imprisoned. Six weeks past, I escaped, and ended up here. I had a scout give me weekly updates as to the condition of the city, but he has not returned in over two weeks. I am awaiting my chance to go after Raoh again." Garol said, "Why have you _not_?" Ray answered, "Raoh is too powerful. I had to wait until he was vunerable or overconfident in his victory. But now, with this interesting group, perhaps I can finally destroy him!" Brycur then spoke up, saying, "Now, hold on, pal. What makes you think any of us WANT you to join us? The offer sounds good, but what if you attack us right after Raoh has been defeated?" Ray replied, "Sir, I could have killed you long before now, but I choose not to, because we can help each other, since we are after a common foe." Brycur pondered this as he sat back down. Then Tarkyn said, "But you have no weapons on you." "I need no weapons," Ray responded. "For I have learned to use the same kind of power Raoh uses, only _I_ use it in a different manor. I would show you, but I have no steel with me, and I doubt any of you has a sword that they can live without." Blaze then said, "I _could_ manefest a steel bar or something, although it would disappear in a minute or two." With that, she started chanting under her breath. A few seconds later, a 4-foot-long steel bar appeared in front of Brycur. Brycur picked up the bar and brought it over to Ray, holding it firm. Ray stood up, and started to move his arms like a ninja. Light streams appeared from his fingertips as he moved them quickly. Suddenly, Ray yelled out and, with a sweeping motion, flashed his hands across the bar. The bar was still appeared in one piece. Brycur was just about to laugh when the bar severed into little pieces like they were cut by a steaming hot knife. He dropped the last piece in amazement. The pieces then disappeared. Brycur was silent. Certainly this man WOULD be a tremendous help. Ray then said, "That is how I escaped. It was difficult to cut through the stone of the prison. The guards at the gate of Kassandra were considerably easier. But I left behind my sister, Aliee, and her mate, Falco. They were to be married the day Raoh attacked. I want them out of there!" Lance then stood and addressed the group, saying, "Truly, this man can help us to destroy Raoh. Add to that that he knows Kassandra better that anyone else. All those in favor of allowing Ray to accompany us to Kassandra, and enlisting in his help, say 'Aye'." "AYE!" was the overwhelming cry. "Those opposed, say 'Nay'." Dead silence. "Very well, Ray," stated Lance, as he shoke the stranger's hand, "You are welcome here." Ray said, "Thank you very much, my friends. I will not let you down." ========================================================================== To all those involved in this story: I don't know if any of you have received the "Mission Summary" from me. I have sent them again (I hope) to you. If you have NOT received them, let me know by E-mailing me at:wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu Sorry if it could not get there. Basically, though, just follow the story with your own account of the travelling to Kassandra. Next week, the battle begins! Chris Wolvie ----------------------------------- "I can't believe you tried to impress those gaurds by pulling a rabbit out of your hat!!" `Hey, don't knock it! How many six-foot-tall rabbits do YOU know?' -Eric the Cavalier and Presto the Magician DUNGEONS & DRAGONS MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] [Inn] The walrus said to talk... [Repost] Date: Tue, 23 Mar 93 08:18:17 CST Message-ID: <16B9A74CA.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: [AU] [Inn] 'Raelf ar'Elya Andrea Sheryl unicorn ADMIN: This is a repost of a repost; the first repost apparently did not get through. This repost is because I don't think the original post didn't get everwhere, since it never showed up at my site. This takes place immediately before "Off to See the Wizards..." ----------begin Steve Hutchison's post---------- ~Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Path: ibeam!hutch ~From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) ~Subject: [AU][Inn]'Raelf,ar'Elya,Andrea,Unicorn: the walrus said to talk... Message-ID: Organization: Intel Corp., Hillsboro, Oregon ~Date: Fri, 12 Mar 1993 08:36:07 GMT [the time has come, the walrus said to talk, of many things]... "I'd be happier if it felt like things were settling down, Raye." (click) "'Raelf, there's nothing you can do about it from here-and-now." "I found the keel and the transitor and four partially blasted runes." (clack. clack) "So what does it mean to us?" (click. Click, click) "I can't really say. There's so much happening, and I still can't see any of the branch around the Mage Guild." "Who was he, anyway. You didn't really say." "Well, the others all called him `silken' and LittleFair said he was another one of the dark-corners crowd. He's not from Nexus, really. I tried to follow his traces from a few months back, saw him in action. Very competent cat-burglar, semicompetent psychic - couldn't ever tell when he was going to be idiot or savant. Had the usual array of magic unbeatable weapons and stuff. Stereotype of the jack of all trades." (clack) "Oh? Into archetypes, you say?" "I think he dabbled in everything, but never stayed with anything." (click) "Why would he choose to dabble in vampirism?" (clack) "Who knows? He made noises like he didn't want to be, but he sure seemed to enjoy using the weedy. Anyway, I hope the safety field stayed on long enough to kick him back into reality." "What ruined the board?" (tap, tap, tap, tap. clunk.) "Combination of things. I think he either got hit by the Sorc's wards, or he actually caught his attention and got blasted. The protections should have held it off, but then I didn't expect the local gods to start dying out of turn. Weakened it. Then the turbulence has been so much worse lately, and it's rippling backtimewards. Board probably blew along the discriminator array." "Are you bored?" "Yes. This game is no fun. Can I burn it?" (clatter, clatter, click) "Sure." <> FOOOMF - the board and tiles exploded in flames, infernal but contained above the marble tabletop. A wisp of white smoke rose, drifting on the wind over the garden, and across the lighthouse wall. "Why did you think that game would be fun, 'Raelf?" "I thought it was different. Chinese Scrabble, who'd expect them to do it in their own alphabet?" "I guess. Hey, I'm hungry. Free Lunch?" ar'Elya flickered briefly between her two more athletic base-roles, before settling on the Amazon form of A'ree, with the requisite wolf appearing from nowhere. "How we gonna get there? I don't want to use the gate." "Could race. Could skate." "Yah! Come on!" 'Raelf sprinted towards the tower where their gear was stored. After a ten minute mostly-invisible race across the skies above the Low City the air in front of the Inn flashed with faint blue flames as three figures emerged into the street. The two human figures looked dubiously at the third; a wolf wearing inline skates, even modified for canine feet, looks very odd. "You could have been a Hawk, Critter. Raye, why wasn't he a hawk?" "Why weren't you a hummingbird? Cut some slack, jack." They helped the lupine to dismount the skates, and approached the door. "Careful, guys. Alita's got the door boobytrapped." "Right." The warm air from the Inn washed over them, causing the wolf to sneeze. <> "This IS the Dragon's Inn, Critter. Strange is a way of life here." Rowan smiled as 'Raelf approached the bar. "Here to get your free lunches?" "Yah. Raye's being polite, decided to be daintier today. So you don't have to put another cow on the grill." "I'm relieved, lad. Say, do you know anything about thiii... What's your wolf doing?" "Uh, Raye?" In response, she looked over and whistled. The wolf had gone over to the table 'Raelf usually took, one by the small fireplace near the front door, but instead of sitting, he was very carefully whiffling at the heels of something that 'Raelf could have sworn was the kiester-end of a Unicorn. ar'Elya went over to speak to the human who was sharing a table with it. "Rowan, is that a for-real Unicorn sitting, er, standing, in my usual spot?" "I believe so. She's been drinking milk." "Oh. Uh, what was your question?" "Why have I had four people appear in here from Ak-Ir-Neg, and why have I had people calling me `LittleTrill', and why did one of them tell me to ask you about it?" "Uh, right. You remember Alita, the blue-lady who went off to hunt for the shrunken-giant's dragon with us?" "Yes. Be careful of her, I suspect she's a succubus." "That would be almost correct. Anyway, she's living over flipside now. She's opened a bar there, exact spot as here, but it's cursed to violence instead of blessed to peace. She and a friend of hers decided to `help' you out, by creating a correspondence-gate between their inn and yours. She does a wicked good impression of you, by the way." Rowan scowled, thinking of the damage to his reputation and his clients. "And this gate takes people who are peaceful and boring there, and shunts them over here, and sends violent people over there." "Right, sort of, when it really works right. I'm almost sure the Knight and his Lady Blaze got sent there once by mistake, for instance." "Well. I'm not sure I want my clients being snatched away." "I'll see what I can do about it." "Give it a week, lad. I might decide I like the arrangement." "Whatever. Hey, could you be out of Catamount Porter today? I think Raye's having flashbacks from the stuff." "Well, normally no, but I DO happen to be out of the Cat today." "Way cool. See ya." 'Raelf went over to the table and joined Raye, who was apologizing to the young dark-haired, dark-skinned woman at the table. "He doesn't usually get this fresh, ma'am." The young lady in question continued to glance nervously at the wolf. There was a small dagger within easy reach on the table, but she didn't appear to be too predisposed toward using it, which seemed to be a good sign. The small unicorn had turned and was peering curiously toward this creature that was sniffing at her, though she didn't seem too wor- ried. "Well, Sheryl doesn't seem to mind," the woman said at last. "May we join you here for lunch? Our usual table is occupied," ar'Elya nodded, indicating the place where the Unicorn was standing. The dark-clothed woman shrugged. "If you like." Then, sensing that perhaps introductions were in order, she added, "My name is Andrea, and my...friend here is Sheryl." "I'm ar'Elya. This blond fellow here is 'Raelf, my housepet. The wolf is Critter, and if he doesn't behave himself I'm going to skin him for a coat, got it, Critter?" She drew a dagger threateningly. 'Raelf bowed greetings, and grinned at Andrea's cautious expression. "Ignore her, please, she's not herself today. She'd sooner skin her own self as cut into her Critter. Or skin me." "That's not funny. When's the food showing up, we're starved." The wolf growl-whined in agreement. "Just here," Mary LittleFair said, delivering a big bowl of crisply fried potatoes to the center of the table, and setting down a mug of blackjack cider. "The meat'll be here as soon as it hits blood temperature." "Great. Oh, hey, Andrea, would you like to share lunch with us? Tell a few stories, we can find out what a nice 'corn like this is doing in a place like this. Hey, you better be careful here, there's parts of town where they'd mug you, chop the horn off your friend, and sell the two of you off to the Rameshanders in half-a-second." Andrea nodded, in a manner which suggested that she knew all about places like that. "Yes, I've had that experience." 'Raelf tasted one of the fried potato sticks and looked around the table, searching for something missing. "Where's the ketchup and salt?" Andrea picked up the dagger and made it disappear with some impressive sleight of hand that seemed to come naturally to her. She stroked Sheryl's neck gently. "This may sound like an...odd question, but what is this place? The city, I mean, not just the pub." 'Raelf looked up from the unsatisfactory fries and said, "It's called Generica." At this, Andrea looked up. "Generica..." she murmured. "At last. What a long, strange trip it's been." Sheryl perked up too, at mention of the name. "So, what brings you to this town?" 'Raelf asked. "Oh, just a little problem I need to solve. Nothing, really." Andrea sighed. "Do you know if there is anywhere around here that I could find a room for the night?" 'Raelf toyed with the fried potato sticks and said, "I believe Rowan Littlefair has some rooms for rent. Or you can look for something on the bulletin board over there." He pointed to a space on the wall of the staircase, by the door. It was plastered with a few dozen notices, some quite new, others tattered and fading. "Thanks." Andrea got up. "Save my seat, Sheryl." The little unicorn nickered an affirmative, and hopped up onto the bench seat vacated by Andrea. She tucked her legs under her and lay down, looking so pleased with herself that it elicited a chuckle from 'Raelf and ar'Elya. Andrea almost smiled, then walked over to the bulletin board. It was filled with notices of all sorts--quests unfinished, help wanted, rooms to let, etc. Then one fairly new announcement caught her eye, and her eyes widened. "Raoh..." she breathed. She reached out and pulled it down, then carried it back to the table. She walked as if dazed, and her eyes betrayed the inner turmoil she was feeling. While Andrea had been reading the board, someone had apparently brought some ketchup and salt by; 'Raelf had been raising a red-tipped potato fry to his mouth when Andrea sat back down, looking like she was under a spell. "Hey, are you all right?" he asked, the fry forgotten. "Raoh..." she murmured, staring at the notice gripped within her hand. "That bastard..." She let the notice fall to the table, and suddenly a dagger appeared through the center of it with a THONK! that startled everyone at the table, Sheryl included. Now that the note was on the table, 'Raelf and ar'Elya could see that it was the poster advertising for adventurers to seek out and destroy the tyrant Raoh, who supposedly had the power to raze entire towns with a wave of his hand. "Andrea..." 'Raelf said gently. "Andrea?" Sheryl looked concerned. Andrea wasn't listening. She was in her own world, her eyes betraying the agony she was feeling inside. She reached down the front of her tunic and brought out a silver locket. She flipped it open, looked at whatever was inside, and the tears started to flow. "Oh, Sheryl..." she half-sobbed, and the small unicorn nuzzled her gently. She lowered her head to the table and sat there crying silently, the force of the sobs shaking her body. 'Raelf looked embarrassed, and would have moved to comfort her but ar'Elya stopped him. "No," she said. "Look at her. Combat fatigue. Survivor syndrome, she's been hiding something from herself for too long. Let her cry it out." Reluctantly, 'Raelf agreed, and Andrea's sobs gradually subsided, until she was silent. "She's fallen asleep," ar'Elya observed. 'Raelf got up, and walked over to Littlefair. "Got a crash pad? Lady needs to sleep." He tossed him a gold piece. "Of course," Littlefair said, indicating the place. "Right through there, second doorway on the right." "Thanks." 'Raelf walked back over to the table and gently picked the sleeping thief up. Sheryl moved as if to stop him, but he said, "Don't worry, little 'corn, I'm not going to harm her." He carried her to the room, Sheryl trailing behind him. As he laid her on the bed and pulled the cover up over her, he noticed that she was still clutching the locket. Curious, he gently disengaged her hand from the necklace and examined it. The locket had two small drawings in it, rendered in color by some skilled artist--probably done at some travelling carnival for a few copper pieces, he reflected. On the left was a picture of a young teenaged girl who had to be Andrea ten years or more ago. She certainly looked happy, nothing like the world-weary woman whose neck the locket hung around. In the other side was a younger blonde-haired girl, perhaps about 8 or 10 years of age. 'Raelf snapped the locket shut and tucked it back inside Andrea's collar before pulling the covers up to her neck. "Pleasant dreams," he said before walking out, leaving a small unicorn standing sentinel at the foot of the bed. -- [ADMIN] This is a joint post, by Chris Meadows and me. If you want to comment to Chris, send mail to one of CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU The characters: "Silken" is owned by Mithrandir (TKelly) and is slandered here without explicit permission. "Andrea" and "Sheryl" are owned by Chris Meadows and appear here by special arrangement. "Raoh" is a guest villain owned by Chris (Wolvie) Motherway and appears in cameo by special arrangement. 'Raelf and ar'Elya are mine, all rights reserved, etc. ------------end Steve Hutchison's post------------ Well, that's it...hope you like it, and I hope this lessens any confusion. Heck, just blame it on the timestream thing. If you want to join the thread or have the character make an appearance in your thread, just email me for permission, as per the admin note at the end of "Off to See the Wizards"...I like getting email, especially about something I've written. Later! -- Chris Meadows || Kaiser Bill went up the hill CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || To see the War advance. CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || Kaiser Bill came down the hill CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || With bullets in his pants! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: bdavis@pepper.cray.com (Brent Davis {x67000 CF/ENG}) Subject: [Kal & Co] Awakened Message-ID: <1993Mar23.111233.20155@walter.cray.com> Date: 23 Mar 93 11:12:33 CST "Wake up Kalendraf," the woman's voice warned. He knew he was still dreaming, and this time he was very close to finding the source of those words. Forcing his way closer through the incoherent images, he could sense that he had almost reached the answer. "Wake UP!" His entire body jolted, waking Kal from his slumber. Immediately, he pressed his eyelids tight, in a vain attempt to return to the dream before it had completely passed. Try as he might, all he could muster were fleeting glimpses of unrecognized places and people. None of it made much sense. "Kalendraf, Wake Up!" This time it wasn't a dream. The voice was that of Scott, who was shouting from somewhere outside of his tent. As he lay half-asleep, trying to place where he was and what was happening, he could hear other voices raised in alarm. They must be under attack. Kal rolled over and in a single move, got into a crawling position and grabbed the sword from beside him. As he worked his way in darkness to the tent opening, he felt around on the ground, and eventually found the other weapon that Scott had given him, a dagger. Finally, he tried to stand, but suddenly felt very weak. The horn was having another feeding frenzy today. There wasn't any discernible pattern to when this would happen. Some days it hardly needed any water, and others like this one, it could hardly be satiated. He crawled back to the large barrel that always was left in his tent for just such a need. He stuck his left arm in, and quickly emptied the barrel. He stood up and walked toward the opening. Cautiously, he peered through the tent. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust, but he could see the outlines of Meran, Scott and E'Karam, all facing toward the sea. He stepped out of the tent trying to spot what the others had seen. He expected to see a boat or a raiding party, but instead he saw an approaching mass of water. Kal had seen enough magic to guess that this must be some type of enchanted creature. He picked up a flat palm-sized stone and threw it spinning at the eye of the creature. Although missing Kal's intended target, it still struck the creatures body. The rock appeared to be merely absorbed into the watery mass before eventually disappearing into the dark swirling wave. "I don't think our weapons will be much help against that!," Kal exclaimed. Time was running short, and Kalendraf found he was out of helpful ideas. In fact, the only thought occupying his mind was the realization that these types of encounters were part of the reason that he had quit adventuring years ago. -- / bdavis@cray.com | T | Given that 6 x 9 = 42, \ ( Cray Research, Inc. | 3 | then the Universe must ) \ Chippewa Falls, WI | D | be a base 13 function. / MagicHutchHeader From: justinf@cco.caltech.edu (Justin Fang) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Kal & Co] Big Trouble Date: 24 Mar 1993 01:29:34 GMT Message-ID: >The thing was over fifty feet tall and made of living, pulsing seawater, >black and foul as the sea itself merely appeared in the middle of the >night. It resembled a mound, with vaguely humanoid arms and a head. >In the time Scott had trotted to his pack, the thing had crossed the >entire length of the visible sea, and was now (standing?) at the edge >of the shore, only fifteen feet of shore distancing it from the two >adventurers. >Scott swore and instinctively rolled behind a rock. His head peered above >it as he eyed warily the water elemental which towered far above him. >Meanwhile, Meran stared the water-thing full in the face in abject horror, >taking slow and careful steps backward to no particular purpose. >E'Karam rounded the rock, and pointed at the elemental, his tentacled face >smirking at the other two. "HA! I knew it! A mutated tadpole!" Meran stared up at the massive, hostile wall of water, his mind feverishly running on several tracks at once. Unfortunately, none of those tracks included giving instructions to his body, which remained frozen in position. {Never seen one that big! -- what'd work against it? No, no, no... maybe? Maybe not. Not much. Different form? Hmmm... -- mass is about... ouch! -- Power it'd take to summon and compel is incredible... archmage, or artifact...} >He [E'Karam] focused his mind on the water in the creature. In his mind, he >pictured the molecules slowing in their vibrations, expanding into their lower >energy state...that of ice crystals. His tentacles waved fiercely in >concentration, but all that came from his purple lips was "damn salty water!" >The water being slowed its approach, its form filled with an icy mush...this >would have to do. {It's freezing! How? E'Karam? Heat removed is amount of water times temperature change times heat capacity is... wow! He's more powerful than I'd thought -- Artifact! The horn! What would Wyeriun want? Kal! He's after Kal!} >"Wake up the others, I can't hold this thing for long!" he [E'Karam] shouted >to Meran and Scott while he still faced the hulking form of watery death. Meran moved. Scott and E'Karam were here, Denner in the guest room of the keep, that left Kevin and Kal. He sprinted for the tents. Kevin was awake, staring at the elemental, Kal was asleep. Meran jerked open the tent flap. "Kal! Wake up! Trouble!" Like the seasoned adventurer he was, Kalendraf was instantly alert. "What?" "The Wyeriun's sent *that*," Meran said, pointing, as Kal got out of the tent. "It's after *you*, so I suggest you leave. Quickly." He turned to Kevin. "That's a good idea for you, too. If comes towards you, run inland. One of you head for the keep and get Ivy - we need all the help we can get." {That's assuming she's willing to help us, of course.} Meran headed back for the beach. There were a few things he could do that might slow the thing down... Justin Fang (justinf@cco.caltech.edu) This space intentionally left blank. MagicHutchHeader From: fogelinc@pt.Cyanamid.COM (Carl Fogelin) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [Kal & Co] Kevin's momentary insanity Date: 24 Mar 1993 02:02:36 GMT Message-ID: <1ooffsINNki8@c3po.jvnc.net> To say that Kevin was unprepared for the situation he was facing would be one of the greatest understatements of all time. Quickly assessing that his tent was not good protection from a 50 foot tall wave, he grabbed the sword Scott had lent him and quickly ducked behind some rocks. Of course, that wasn't much protection either, but at least they were SOLID. As if to prove a point, the wave washed one of the tents down as it strode forward, not even pausing. Staring at the wave, Kevin murmured "... hopeless, absolutely hopeless." A knot was forming in his gut and his mind was wailing "out, out, OUT!". He started to giggle, you know, that sick giggle. The one that borders on insanity, and something snapped inside. Brandishing his sword forward like he knew what to do with it, he took a deep breath, yelled "DIE KLINGON PIG!" and charged the creature. (Luck can overcome a vast amount of stupidity. Kevin's actions were right up there on the stupidity scale, but Fate smiled on him a bit. As he ran towards the wave, sword extended, he tripped on a rock, and fell head-first into the edge of the water elemental. The inside of a water elemental is a fascinating place to be, assuming that that is where you want to be. Once inside, Kevin was flung around in the swirling current with the other debris that the elemental captured when it manifested itself out of the sea. Pieces of wood, shells, and even fishes banged into him as he tumbled around inside. But before he had time to consider how impossible the situation he was NOW in, he was suddenly "spat" out, landing in a heap a good 20 yards away from the creature.) "Gasping" loudly for air and moaning a little from the pain of impact, Kevin eyed a rock shelter he was near and slowly crawled behind it. "Wonder why it threw me out" muttered Kevin. He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts. "Hmmm... don't look a gift horse in the mouth." He sat up, leaning his back against a rock and looked at his hands. A slow smile spread across his face. "That's one hell of a way to rinse out your hair." --- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Carl Fogelin (fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com) "All opinions are strictly mine" Up the long ladder and down the short rope, To Hell with King Billy and God bless the Pope. -- traditional MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: nealk@maths.tcd.ie (Neal Kidson) Subject: [Raoh] And getting closer Message-ID: <1993Mar24.131348.27567@maths.tcd.ie> Date: Wed, 24 Mar 1993 13:13:48 GMT > Blaze then said, "I _could_ manefest a steel bar or something, > although it would disappear in a minute or two." With that, she started > chanting under her breath. A few seconds later, a 4-foot-long steel bar > appeared in front of Brycur. Brycur picked up the bar and brought it > over to Ray, holding it firm. > Ray stood up, and started to move his arms like a ninja. Garols eyes narowed for a second as Rays motions continued. > Light streams appeared from his fingertips as he moved them quickly. Suddenly > Ray yelled out and, with a sweeping motion, flashed his hands across the > bar. > > The bar was still appeared in one piece. Brycur was just about > to laugh when the bar severed into little pieces like they were cut by a > steaming hot knife. He dropped the last piece in amazement. The pieces > then disappeared. One of Garols eyebrows shot up. Now THERE was something you didn't see too often. > Ray said, "Thank you very much, my friends. I will not let you > down." "You said you used the same power as Raoh but in a different way, what exactly is the difference?" asked Garol quietly after Ray had sat down. ================================================================================ [ADMIN] Sorry about the delay in getting into this one people, but I'm on a break at the moment and I had to give my bank account the kiss of life. 8vD I won't be able to get back to a terminal until next Wednesday ( account is still on the critical list :) ) so could you please sent me copies of any posts so I can keep up to date? Thanx -- Milamber ================================================================================ I know you Believe you understand what you Think I wrote but I am Not Sure that you Realise that what you Read is not what I Meant MagicHutchHeader From: mcspikgfm@dct.ac.uk (MELANDRA) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [ST] Mel's past comes back to haunt her Message-ID: <1993Mar24.141433.4793@dct.ac.uk> Date: 24 Mar 93 14:14:33 GMT Mel had been at parties before on many occasions for both Human's and Elves but had never been to one that mixed both races cultures. There were even a number of things she knew could not be from Generica or this world, and the open displays of magic were very impressive compared to her own, but as always amongst the Dragons-Inn patrons, there seemed only minor curiousity about it, and more about the food and wine. People seemed to appear in more than one place at a time and even talked to one another on one occasion. It just emphasised what a strange and wonderful place was the Inn. She sat listening to the Minstrels as they played beautifully for the crowded party. Both the Elves and the Humans were brilliant, but in different ways. The Elves played with precision and stirring Elven melodies she had never heard but knew never the less. The humans were different, like nothing she had ever heard. The usual bands she had seen in a few pubs in her time were a marginally better experience than being tortured by an expert, and in some cases she had felt she might be. But the music she had heard from both bands had brought forth feelings she had forgotten she had at times. The minstrels reminded her of her heritage and her youth with her family in amongst the trees and her friends, whilst the humans had brought up other thoughts that she kept hidden deep within her soul. The love she had for a dead comrade, the joy she found in her friends and the fun that she had with them. All the good moments of her short life seemed to pass through her already clouded vision until the inevitable sad lament from the minstrel's repetoire brought on other feelings. She saw piles of ashes and bones filling up the room before her and she knew they were the men and women she had killed. Before the pile was a small moldering skeleton with no skull, and a charred corpse and a fairly fresh body with burns and huge gashes all over it. She knew this dream and tried to stop herself but the gashed body sat up as usual. " You cost me my life and you will pay soon. I will have my revenge on you Mel, my friend. Accident or not, I will have my revenge. To kill one friend in battle could be called accidental, but to kill three in seperate battles is verging on murder". He laughed loudly, the dried blood on his mouth cracked and a welter of blood and ichor started dribbling down over what remained of his chin. He pushed himself up from the floor and the other corpses began to move. As usual she struggled and found that her body didn't respond. The corpse's rose and moved towards her before dropping her to the floor. " We have some guests who'd like to get reacquainted with you, in a very personal way". From in front of her she heard a soft scraping sound that slowly grew louder and almost seemed to form into garbled words and oathes. Something touched her leg and oozed over, under and inside her armour. It scraped and flowed past her knees and up over her waist. It seemed to flow everywhere as it progressed towards her throat and slowly built up around her head. "I hope you appreciate all the trouble we had getting everyone together" said the charred corpse. " It wouldn't do for you to die without knowing it was your victims that had killed you. We'll be waiting for you on the other side, now open wide!". The corpses fingers pried open her jaws and smiled as the ashes flowed up to cover her face, flooding her lungs and stomach and finally covering over her eyes as they reached a state of catatonia, sending her into her dark unlit world. She sat at the table and cried as tear upon tear washed down her face. Some of the people at the party saw her crying and attributed it to the wonderful Elven ballad being played. They even saw her walk out the door to the garden, but hardly anyone noticed her leave through the trees and the darkness of the late evening and to the coast and solitude. ******************************************************************************** Melandra Flametree, Lady Wizardess * Internet: mcspikgfm@dct.ac.uk Pyrolator, Princess of Vyalia * Janet : mcspikgfm@uk.ac.Dundee-Tech & Slightly Insane Elf.."Boom..Fun!" * Dundee College of Technology, Scotland. ******************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader From: rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Kyar goes to the Drift Inn Message-ID: <1993Mar23.134156.6495@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 23 Mar 93 13:41:56 CST Kyar awoke with a groan and stretched. He felt as if he had slept for weeks. He looked out of the window to his room in the Dragon's Inn. It was nightime. "I wonder how long I slept?" he muttered to himself as he got dressed. He looked with dismay at his shabby clothes and beat up boots. "At least I have this." he said, holding up his silver bladed scimitar. When he stepped over to the door he noticed something. Someone had slipped a small piece of folded parchement under his door. He opened it excitedly, hoping it was a response to his post on the bulliten board. The note read: Dear Sir, I do not know if I can help you with your difficulties or not, but I am seeking other adventurers and I believe some of them may be able to aid you. Look for me tonight at the Drift Inn. Elanon Kyar put the note in the pocket of his breeches, alongside of his few remaining gold shekels. He left the Dragon's Inn, after asking Littlefair for directions to the Drift Inn. After a short walk, he managed to find the place, but was rather dissapointed. The Drift Inn was a far cry from the comfortable place he had just left. He shrugged his shoulders and walked inside. A few heads turned as he walked in. He looked around slowly and finally said, "I'm looking for a man called Elanon." ________________________________________________________________________________ Jason Rosenberger, rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet, Western Ky University, Planet Reebok. (No Slogans) MagicHutchHeader From: hilanse@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Wonko:&Athorbalo:Meet Eldarath: Message-ID: <1993Mar23.150916.6496@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 23 Mar 93 15:09:15 CST The weather wasn't quite as pleasant as it had been when they left. A grey layer seemed to cover everything in sight. The sun had gone into the clouds shortly after their arrival, the storm machine had caused more than a local weather disturbance. The wind picked up, and it began to drizzle lightly. Wonko removed his felt hat, and placed his viking helmet atop his head, he handed the hat to Athorbalo. She put it on, and the brim came down almost to her eyes, she hand to hold it down to keep the wind from blowing it off. They passed through the gates of the city and walked until they reached the Dragon's Inn. Once inside, Wonko and Athorbalo took a table in the corner. Wonko walked to the bar to get something warm to drink, he asked for a hot chocolate and a coffee. Littlefair returned shortly with both items, and a bit of information, Eldarath had been looking for him. Wonko smiled, taking the drinks to their table. He handed the coffee to Athorbalo and drank his hot chocolate slowly. He never could stand coffee, it smelled nice, but it tasted awful, chocolate was a definite treat in comparison. Wonko thought back to the first night he had been here, and when he first met Athorbalo. Something in his mind twitched. He looked around for someone to take his order, and the something twitched again. He looked at Athorbalo, and it hit him, "Say..don't you work here?" She looked at him, puzzled, and replied, "I thought you knew what I did for a living...I'm an assassin." "No, no....Your cover, you work here, right?" "Ummm...", introspectively, "No, not that I can remember, I work at the Inn and Out as a cover." Wonko's brain had had enough, it told him to discontinue this line of questioning, or, it threatened, he would have a migraine in short order. He sighed, shrugged,and sipped his hot chocolate. Littlefair came to the table at Wonko's call and took his order for two bowls of macaroni and cheese, and two waters. After they arrived, Wonko and Athorbalo chatted and munched leisurely. The drizzle had turned into a storm and the door shook slightly on its hinges as the thunder grew louder with each passing minute. There was a rattle, and the hinge creaked softly. A short grey figure entered the room, cursing, "Wonko, there you are, how'd you get my hat?" Felt Brims (C)1993 WBLWINC --Yawn ---{snore} MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kinsman@jupiter.sun.csd.unb.ca (Aphoriel/Kinsman) Subject: [Kal & Co] Sudden Siege P II Message-ID: <1993Mar24.182246.19403@jupiter.sun.csd.unb.ca> Date: Wed, 24 Mar 1993 18:22:46 GMT MagicHutchHeader Message-Id: <9303241821.AA12663@oak.oslab.cs.unb.ca> "Kevin! Get away from there!" Meran Quicksilver shouted at the young man, who had plunged through the water elemental to now rest on his knees in the shallow water behind it. Kevin's head cleared of his temporary insanity, and he suddenly realized what a dangerous position he was in. He jumped to his feet and ran lengthwise down the beach along the shallow end of the sea, hoping to desperation the thing wasn't interested in him. Fortunately (for Kevin, at least) the creature wasn't. For that matter, the elemental didn't seem to know what it was doing. E'Karam's efforts to freeze the towering being had had minor success, and combined with Kevin's totally unexpected kamikaze dive throught the elemental's body, the elemental seemed momentarily stunned, unsure of what to do next. Meran and Scott turned their heads to see Kalendraf looking in wonder at the water beast. "Kalendraf! I think that thing's after you. Run to the keep for cover and see if you can get Ivy to help us. We can try to do our best here." Meran said. "Kevin!" Meran called out to the shadowed figure running down the beach, "Head for the keep! The keep!" Scott accentuated this with waving and pointing, realizing that Kevin had ran out of range of Kal's magical amulet, the one which translated the foreign speakers in the group's words into Generic. [ADMIN: Ok, now that should tie together all the posts that hit the newsgroup about what we were doing to the water elemental; and now, to join the prepared post already in progress... :) ] Kal and Kevin footed it to the dark moonlit keep, the large water elemental shading the horizon far behind them. Back at the beach, Meran, Scott, and E'Karam were trying their best to hold back the magical being; but they defenitely needed help. The Wizard Ivy slowly woke to the noise of pounding downstairs. Peering owlishly about the dark room, Ivy fumbled for and lit a lantern, and began to walk down at a patient pace to the keep's entrance. (Perhaps it's raining out), Ivy thought, (and their tents have all fallen down. Oh well, might as well let them in.. now where am I going to put them?) As Ivy passed the open window alongside the keep staircase, she looked out the window to confirm the weather, and blinked at what she saw. It looked as if there was a huge black tidal wave hovering about the nearby beach. Ivy came to understand the possible meaning of the pounding at her door, and skipped down the stone steps briskly to unlock the keep doors and let the greatly harried Kevin and Kalendraf inside. * * * The water spoke, its voice ringing with magical will; a voice not coming from a living throat, but a voice dull and lifeless, coming only from the manipulation of watery matter... Scott and Meran took a strategic retreat to the large boulder at the beach's end as the water elemental slowly and ponderously shifted itself towards them. Fast as the thing had been in water, it had now moved on to shore, and the two adventurers had been able to easily end-run around it and meet a safe distance away. E'Karam, for his own part, was harrassing the elemental as best he could from the other side. "Hey!" E'Karam yelled, tossing a stone into the elemental's form, making a medium splash. "Hey, over here! Pay attention, you!" "What do we have?" Meran quietly conferenced with Scott. "We don't have anything. That thing is made of water, I don't have anything that cuts water or bashes its head in... we could dry it out, maybe, or dispel it, but that's not what I had practice in." "Blast! What are Kalendraf and Kevin doing in there?" Meran looked over at the keep, which save for one light still had no signs of activity. * * * "A what?" Denner asked, in his mind still trying to shake off the effects of sleep as he slogged on his coat and boots. Ivy explained to Denner, her back turned while she rummaged through hopelessly entensive rows of cabinets and notebooks. "There is a water elemental outside. It is trying to get Kalendraf." "Gaah!" Denner dropped a boot and hopped over to the window to look outside at the beach. Ivy continued, "Now, it's only a matter of time before it'll come for us. Elementals are dim, but they're not ignorant, and whoever's in charge of that - that 'Wyeriun' I'll give any wager on - will tip off the elemental to look for that man in here sooner or later." "I've put Kalendraf away in the attic, but he's not safe in there if the elemental heads over here. I'm going to try and dispel it." "Uh oh." Denner said mostly to himself. He understood enough about alchemy to guess what was coming next... "Denner, I want you go get a sample of that creature. I need it before I can make any preparations to get rid of it. Can you do that in the next five minutes... it's short, I know, but this is a very serious situation." Denner looked out the window at the fifty-foot thing on the beach, and sucked in his courage. "O.K. I'm off. Where's the separation alchemics?" Ivy looked at Denner with worry in her face. "Sorry, Denner. I don't have time to make any seperation alchemics. You have to do this one physically." "What?!" Denner felt fear crawl up and down his spine, then began to pace back and forth a few steps. "Oh boy.. oh dear.. Blast! All right, let's do it." And with that, Denner turned and strode directly for the stairwell, trying his best not to let any of his thoughts get in the way of his artificial resolve. Denner spotted Kevin standing outside the keep door, idly fingering Kal's amulet. Turning to Denner, he asked, "Okay, what're we going to do?" Not expecting to get help for his task, Denner felt much of his worry vanish as he responded, "We're going to try and get a sample of that elemental. Follow me." Denner started to jog down towards the beach, followed by Kevin. * * * [ADMIN: To be continued shortly.] -Aphoriel/Kinsman Sean Givan MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [G] GateWay Message-ID: <1993Mar24.140435.3182@gacvx2.gac.edu> From: mcutter@gacvx2.gac.edu Date: 24 Mar 93 14:04:35 -0600 >"Flank him." the Minotaur shouts to Roger and Traveler, "The GateWay is only >several blocks away. I will deal with the Gold Elf who operates the device." >Moving forward as the others go alongside Wanderer, Thorr-kan leads them >forward to the GateWay.... As the White Minotaur strides away from the group, Gleep glances back at Wanderer. The pseudo-dragon turns to his large friend and chirps despairingly. He chitters away at Thorr-kan for several seconds, ending on a questioning note. "No, little one. I do not enjoy the prospect of being pawns once more. But we are forewarned. Besides, we are doing this for a friend. Anyone interfering with us will be quite displeased with the results." Gleep is silent for a moment. Then he chirps in solemn determination. Thorr-kan chuckles. "Thank you, my friend. Now, be silent a bit." Making sure his friends are following, the minotaur turns to the GateWay to the Worlds. It seems a small structure for such a place of importance. Thorr-kan approaches two metallic doors, looking at the statues on each side. Gleep hisses threateningly at the crystal. The minotaur halts. Are these perhaps guardians? Irrelevant. He has urgent business inside. ---------- A golden-skinned elf looks up from behind his desk. Many beings have passed through his office, but none such as this. Traveller askes, "May I be of assistance?" Thorr-kan looks down on the elf seated before him. Such a small creature. But he radiates a power that make the White Minotaur uneasy. Thorr-kan clears his throat. "My companions and I wish to use your portal. We have a friend in dire need who must return home immediately." Traveller thinks a moment, then says, "I cannot guarantee your safety. Several weeks ago, monumental magical forces were unleashed in Generica. The GateWay has been... unstable ever since. Are you certain this is wise?" "We have no choice. A life hangs in the Balance." "Very well." The elf rises. "How many are in you group?" Thorr-kan thinks for a moment. All the others have mounts. It might be wise to have mine ready before we leave. "Three humans, myself and my little friend, and four mounts. I have none of the local coin, but there are items I may be willing to trade." "Such as?" asks Traveller. Thorr-kan reaches into one of the pouches at his waist. From it he pulls a fist-sized emerald and a slightly smaller ruby. These are lain on the table. Then, the White Minotaur rummages through his pack for a moment and pulls out three items. Each joins the gems on the table. Traveller examines each gem, and finds them genuine. But the items are what get his attention. One is a small silver brooch, set with a pearl amidst delicate sculpting. The second appears to be a hairnet of some type. It is very finely woven, shimmering as light passes through it. Finally, there is a small key of quartz. The Gold Elf examines each in turn. The brooch he sets aside. "Useful, if not particularly powerful." Next, he examines the hairnet. "Ahhh," he whispers. "Sea-elf workmanship." Thorr-kan nods. "Very rare. And what is this trinket?" he says, referring to the quartz key. Thorr-kan points to the first two items. "These are each useful to mages. This key," lifting it, "is a token of the royal family of Sivanesti. If one presents it to them, that person will receive almost any aid necessary. I have never had use for any of these." Traveller gestures and the items disappear. Another gesture, and the front doors swing open, admitting Roger and Traveler (human, our companion) supporting Wanderer. "Payment is sufficient. Come, bring you animals and follow me." Roger and Thorr-kan gather the mounts of the three humans. "What did you have to pay?" whispers Roger in the moment the two are alone. "Enough," grunts Thorr-kan. "But we can settle that later." The two re-enter the building, pass through the front room into another, larger room in back. Here stands a platform at least twenty feet to a side. In its center rises a large gold oval. Space shimmers within, images cascade across its face, energy crackles from it. The Gold Elf turns to the foursome. "You must enter the GateWay all at once. I suggest you stay close together and be mounted. It will be a rough ride." He approaches Traveler and Wanderer. Gently, he lays both hands on the wounded man's temples. "I feel your agony. But you must concentrate upon your homeland so I can know where to send you." Wanderer nods slightly and grimaces. The energies of the GateWay start to hum, rising to a feverish pitch. Slowly, agonizingly, it settles on one image. Wanderer smiles slightly. "Home!" he whispers. Traveler nods slightly. "Aye, my friend. It will be good to return..." He helps his injured friend to his horse. Roger has already mounted, and Thorr-kan... Thorr-kan is setting a small statuette upon the floor. It flows for a moment, then assumes the shape of a horse of stone. "Hush, Demonwind, hush. It is time once more for us to ride," soothes the White Minotaur. He mounts up and joins the other three. Traveller (the Gold Elf) looks up at the three. "I cannot guarantee your safety. But I shall attempt to keep the GateWay open. If you wish to return, you must find your own way here. I bid you good fortune. May your gods watch over you." With that he steps aside. The four ride abreast into the GateWay... -Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur ******************************************************************************** Peace through strength! Victory through annihilation! Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ******************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader From: fogelinc@pt.Cyanamid.COM (Carl Fogelin) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [Kal & Co] Sudden Siege P II Date: 24 Mar 1993 22:11:48 GMT Message-ID: <1oqmb4INNqeh@c3po.jvnc.net> References: <1993Mar24.182246.19403@jupiter.sun.csd.unb.ca> >Ivy looked at Denner with worry in her face. "Sorry, Denner. I don't have >time to make any seperation alchemics. You have to do this one physically." > >"What?!" Denner felt fear crawl up and down his spine, then began to pace >back and forth a few steps. "Oh boy.. oh dear.. Blast! All right, let's do >it." And with that, Denner turned and strode directly for the stairwell, >trying his best not to let any of his thoughts get in the way of his >artificial resolve. > >Denner spotted Kevin standing outside the keep door, idly fingering Kal's >amulet. Turning to Denner, he asked, "Okay, what're we going to do?" > >Not expecting to get help for his task, Denner felt much of his worry >vanish as he responded, "We're going to try and get a sample of that >elemental. Follow me." > >Denner started to jog down towards the beach, followed by Kevin. Kevin stopped, thought for a moment and then called to Denner. "How much do you need?" "ahmmm... What was that?" "I said 'How much do you need?', how big a sample?" Denner stopped and turned towards Kevin, giving him a questioning look. "I've already tumbled through the beast" reponded Kevin. "Maybe we can wring a large enough sample from my clothes." --- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Carl Fogelin (fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com) "All opinions are strictly mine" Up the long ladder and down the short rope, To Hell with King Billy and God bless the Pope. -- traditional MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac559@Freenet.carleton.ca (Ian Clysdale) Subject: [JOI] Greetings, Kyar! Message-ID: <1993Mar25.005513.14075@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Thu, 25 Mar 1993 00:55:13 GMT Elanon stands up from the table, and looks at the figure in front of him. He strides forward, then greets the newcomer. "You are one of the invited?" he asks. Kyar soon agrees, and Elanon brings him down to sit at the table. "We are waiting at least one other," Elanon explains. "He is the reason that we are here at the Drift. I have sent for him, and am expecting him soon. It is not like him to take so long to arrive." Elanon orders another flask of ale, and shares it with the newcomer. He raps his nails in anticipation, as well as impatience. Then, finally, he states. "If noone else arrives within the next few minutes, we shall depart on our own. No more than two strong arms are truly needed to find adventure, though more would have been nice. But I am not prepared to wait for those who will slow us down. Come, let us discuss. Tell me about your pass, for we are strangers." META: What this means, for those who expressed interest in joining in is that in 2 days I leave the inn, whether you're with me or not. As I said, I'm not going to wait for sporadic posters. So move it if you want to join in. Otherwise, you'll have to find some occasion to jump in later. END META -- Ian Clysdale | "Power attract the corruptible, and Vote for me in '98! | absolute power attracts the absolutely ac559@freenet.carleton.ca | corruptible." -Frank Herbert MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: BGHO000 Subject: [Jiri]:The Wolfmage has come. Message-ID: <25MAR93.05941903.0061@VM1.MCGILL.CA> Date: Thu, 25 Mar 1993 10:30:06 GMT Once more the hooded figure emerges from the shadows in the back corner of the Inn. Lowering his hood and removing his cloak, the elven mage walks to the bar and orders an ale. As he waits for his drink, he surve ys the inn, his mind lightly probing. When he is satisfied that all is as it should be, Jiriku takes his mug and seats himself in a corner tabl to wait. The elf waits quite a long time, ordering more ale and cursing colorfully every few minutes. Before his wait is over, he has managed to get quite drunk. In the middle of his fifteenth pint, Jiriku looks up sharply and settles his gaze on the door. "It's about time, by Kurath's bloody head," he mutters as he struggles to rise. Somehow, he manages to stand up without knocking anything over, and without spilling too much of his ale. Pushing his silver locks back out of his face, the Wolfmage stumbles towards the door. When he is halfway ther a huge form fills the doorway. After a short pause, a hulking jungle cat pads lightly into the Inn to stand before the golden eyed elf. "By the gods, I've been waiting a good while. You're two weeks late!" the elf admonishes his friend, who even then begins to shift, his body changing into a more human shape, and a rich red cloak and swordbelt appearing upon the massive frame. The man-cat looks down upon the elf before him and grins, showing off his cruelly pointed fangs. "Jiriku, my friend, it has been a long journey. I am near dead from thirst, and you don't even have an ale or three waiting for me!" The gruff yet noble voice is full of mirth as the cat begins to laugh and grabs the Wolfmage in a crushing bearhug (cathug?). "Ah, Jiri, 'tis been a long time." Stuggling for air, Jiriku manages to loosen the grip around him ere he replies. "Yes, friend Kyhra, it has. Too long. About two weeks too long..." Releasing the elf from the hug, Kyhra cuffs him lightly on the shoulde with a furry paw. "Oh, by the three tails of Granog! You're beginning to sound like Dargon. What wrong, are you getting old too, Wolfmage? Come, let us sit and raise glasses together. We have much to catch up on old friend." The elf muttered something barely audible about great age and the right to complain before breaking out in a large grin and turing back to his table. Swaying slightly as he sat, Jiriku slammed his mug down a little to hard, sloshing ale up all over his face, and uttering another curse worthy of a dwarf. "I see you've started without me, sylvan. I guess I'll have to do something about that!" Turning to the barmaid who walked cautiously towards the pairs bearing two more mug of ale, Kyhra let out a great laugh and motioned to her with a great paw. "Come girl, I'll not bite thee! Well, as long as you keep the ale coming I won't! Now that I think on it, why don't you just bring us a keg of your finest. Just bring it out and set it here beside me." Forgetting her fear for a moment, the girl gave Kyhra a shocked look. "The whole keg, sir? Have you the coin? And the thirst?" Kyhra laughed once more as he reached into his pouch and pulled forth a small leather bag full to bursting with gold coin which he slammed down on the table. "I have the coin, and don't ever doubt my thirst girl. Now fetch that ale, so I can get started!" Turning to his elven friend, Kyhra raised the mug the girl had brought. "To good times, good adventure, and good wenching!" "Aye, my friend. And to good ale too!" The elf raised his mug as well and the two slammmed them together ere pounding the mugs back in one go, a feat that takes little time or effort for the huge feline. Long into the night the two companions drink, sharing tales as well as recounting past adventures. The talk soon turns, as it must always with adventurers, to future exploits. Jiriku lowers his voice slightly as he fixes Kyhra with a suddenly sober and serious eye. "I have not learned all that much about Generica yet, my friend, but I have seen several opertunities. There is a thriving Thieves Guild in this city, known as the Fellowship, and a strong Mages Guild as well. The Guild tries to control all magical business in the city, but there are several independents. I must think more on it, and the Mages Guild is not one to willingly cross, but I sense an opportunity there for us. The port of this city is bustling, and trade is good. I heard a rumor that a certain friend of ours has passed through the port recently. A certain thief..." "Cain?" Kyhra cut in excitedly. "Yes, Kyhra, it was him, if the information I got was accurate. It seems he has taken up with a certain ship that he conducts his 'business' from. If we can get in touch with Cain, I know that he will have something up his sleeve. And he will surely join us, even if his smuggling operation is as lucrative as I suspect it would be. I know that the authorities in Generica do not take kindly to pirates and smugglers, but I also know that the Fellowship is a powerful force here. Perhaps there is something there..." Kyhra chuckled and refilled his mug. It would be good to be adventurin with his old comrades again, especially if they could turn a good profit in this city. "Jiri, I do look forward to the days ahead. I think tommorrow I'll head down to the Low City and seek out information. I could also use a little merc work right now. My blade is thirsty. I believe I have enough to establish ourselves up in a house somewhere, but we'll need to do some more research first. You look into the Mages Guild, and try to find out more about Cain's whereabouts. I have a felling that things will happen fairly quickly once we get them rolling. "Yes, Kyhra, they will. Oh, by the way, there is a certain perfumer in town that will pay for blood eaters and drinkers of souls." Kyhra bared his teeth in a wicked grin. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" At Jiriku's nod, Kyhra chuckled. "Ah, but we could not do tha to him... but perhaps, perhaps there is something in that..." Jiriku finished his ale and yawned. "Ah, but it nears rest time for me. I have not slept in ages, and this ale tires me. I'm staying upstairs, in the corner room. And you?" The man-cat nodded."I have not a room yet, but I'll not require one just yet. The night is young, and I would hunt still. Or mayhap I'll head down to the Spitting Cobra or one of the Harbour bars. I here that an old pirate with one eye runs one that has a pit for knife fights. My claws are begging to dull, from this long journey, and I could use a good fight or two. Perhaps I'll take a guide to show me the city." Kyhra stood, and surveyed the inn, searching for one who looked to be a suitable person to ask to be hired as a guide. As he looked, the Wolfmage silently donned his cloak and dissappeared into the shodows to find the sleep of the sylvan. ************************************************************************ If anyone is interested in showing us a little more of the city, or starting a new thread, send me email and I'll gladly respond. -Jiriku Goldeies and Lord Kyhra na Kalnar. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: caz@owlnet.rice.edu (HWRNMNBSOL) Subject: Listener: Hard at Play Message-ID: Date: Thu, 25 Mar 1993 20:14:01 GMT The beams are lower over the mantel of the hearth in the Dragon's Inn. That is Listener's favorite perch. He likes to sit with his legs stretched along the joists, his hair brushing the roof, just playing his lute or mandolin, or perhaps singing a ballad or two. There's not a lot of work in Generica for yet another bard. Fortunately, Listener isn't strapped for cash. He spends a good bit of time here, in his favorite place, just playing. He'll play for a copper, or a drink or meal, or a good story (if you've got one) or a new song (if you'll play it). He'll play for free if you ask. It's what he does. - * - HARVEST FOLLY Red leaves; stiff breeze Grapes are hanging from the vines Cold morn; tall corn Time to pull the fishing lines Youths and maids will dance amidst the holly; oh! Drunk on wine and high on harvest folly. Jim knows sweet Rose Midnight meetings; summer love Chaste kiss; pure bliss Stars are smiling from above These are simple days of making jolly; oh! But 'ware the lure of dire harvest folly. Worst fears; salt tears Papa caught her in a lie Rich girl; farm churl Go back to your filthy sty Chilly air makes tempers rough and brawl-ly, oh! Check yourself for signs of harvest folly. Strong grasp; last gasp Sleeping never looked so still Can't be; must flee Want to stop but never will Restless souls hide beasties creepy-crawlly, oh! They come out once a year -- for harvest folly. Come out Once a year For Har Vest Fol Ly - * - WIZARDRY I know a magic sorcery of power legendary It raises mighty armies and it calls the beasts and faeries It's not a bolt or warding, and it's not a charm or curse; It's the gift of song So sing along You'll never fare the worse. I've got a magic cantrip and its potency is boundless It's not a glowing amulet or shoes to make you soundless It's not a rod or staff or wand, with fireballs a-blasting; It's the gift of song So sing along You're better for the casting. I have a magic potion that I'm sure you'll find amazing Its healing power's famous, and its balm sets souls a-blazing It's not a salve or antidote; it won't protect from fire; It's the gift of song So sing along Or better; get a lyre. I have an incantation that will make you stare and wonder It won't give piglets cholera or break strong chains asunder It won't send from Valhalla a small horde of pliant nurses; It's the gift of song So sing along.......... So sorry -- out of verses. -- HWRNMNBSOL MagicHutchHeader From: jmondak@vax.cns.muskingum.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Sorry so late Elanon Message-ID: <1993Mar25.182557.4846@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 25 Mar 93 18:25:56 -0500 "Sorry so late Elanon. I was distracted by a traveling peddler who was quite pushy." "Alarond! We have been waiting quite awhile but we are glad to see that you have finally arrived. We have to hurry on our way for the longer that we tarry the greater the danger for all." "Danger? Who said anything about danger!? I don't remember anything even remotely smelling of danger when we last spoke of our little excursion. i do believe we need to be straight with each other on exactly what my role is in these affairs. I am a humble sprite, never bothering anyone. Why would you, the great Elanon, want with me on such an adventure?" " My dear little Alarond, you, of all people, are not a "humble sprite" as you so love to call yourself. However, revelations of that sort can be saved for later. Come, sit down. I do believe that we have some time to spare for our "humble sprite". MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Aleric offers his aid Message-ID: <1993Mar25.183205.4847@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 25 Mar 93 18:32:04 -0500 Outside the Drift in a tall man in ordinary travel gear paused before the entry. Aleric raised an eyebrow as he looked at the Drift Inn. Not the most reputable of places. But this was where Elanon was staying at the moment, so he pushed open the door and entered. Looking around the room, Aleric noticed two men seated at a table in one corner. They seemed to be deep in discussion. One fitted the description he had been given of Elanon, the other was unknown to him. Well, Aleric thought, I suppose the best way to start is to intro- duce myself. He slowly approached the table and cleared his throat. Both men looked up warily. "I had heard you were looking for adventurers to join you," he began. "I am Aleric. I would like to join you if you will have me. I do not have much to offer except my strength, wit and fighting skills." Aleric waited while Elanon sized him up and considered his offer. The other man said nothing to him. MagicHutchHeader From: bdavis@pepper.cray.com (Brent Davis {x67000 CF/ENG}) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [Kal & Co] Sudden Siege P II Message-ID: <1993Mar25.185456.19764@walter.cray.com> Date: 26 Mar 93 00:54:56 GMT References: <1993Mar24.182246.19403@jupiter.sun.csd.unb.ca> ADMIN: At the end of Sudden Siege Part II, Kevin has somehow acquired Kalendraf's necklace. Here's the best explanation I can come up with on such short notice. -------- > Meran and Scott turned their heads to see Kalendraf looking in wonder at > the water beast. "Kalendraf! I think that thing's after you. Run to > the keep for cover and see if you can get Ivy to help us. We can try to > do our best here." Meran said. "Y..Yes. I'll warn Ivy," Kalendraf stuttered, still awestruck by the approaching wave of water. Kevin grabbed him by the arm, and led him toward the tower. He was feeling very weak. Was this fear that had overtaken him? By the time Kal had reached the door to Ivy's keep, he could barely stand. Now he knew what was happening. The horn was still feeding on the water in his body, and its mind-blanking was starting to overpower his necklace. This had only happened once before, a few days prior, when Kal had been forced to take a long swim in a shallow river. Why was it happening now? Was it tied to this water creature's presence? His thoughts became jumbled, but he knew he would be of no use to the others in his current state. After Ivy answered the door, he attempted to explain his dilemma, and asked her for water. Then he removed his necklace, and handed to Kevin. "Here, it's of no use to me right now." Kevin looked slightly startled at Kalendraf's offer, but eventually accepted it. Ivy rushed Kal up to the attic, where she surprisingly had several barrels of fresh water stored. Kal was oblivious to (and unable to comprehend due to the missing necklace) her brief explanation of the 'gravity-fed-water-piping' that she had installed in the tower. Immediately he opened a barrel and thrust his head and shoulders into it. Ivy would have liked to stay longer to examine the hydration-process, but there was other more pressing business to attend to. She turned and bolted down the steps wondering how she could stop the water elemental. -- / bdavis@cray.com | T | Given that 6 x 9 = 42, \ ( Cray Research, Inc. | 3 | then the Universe must ) \ Chippewa Falls, WI | D | be a base 13 function. / MagicHutchHeader From: fannicm@wkuvx1.bitnet (Master Hawk) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [ST] Mel's past comes back to haunt her Message-ID: <1993Mar25.185729.6527@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 25 Mar 93 18:57:29 CST References: <1993Mar24.141433.4793@dct.ac.uk> Redlin sat alone near the garden door, enjoying the exquisite elven music and drinking a small glass of brandy. He was content. Susan, his friend for more years than he could remember, now had a stable home in Luthor's library. He found contentment in that fact. He sat and contemplated his past exploits for some time, until some sub-concious signal caused him to look up in time to see Mel leave the party, her face moist from tears. Thought and action were one as he brought himself to his feet. He felt a kinship for this elf, someone apparently haunted by her own mind and her past. Quickly he followed her out into the garden and trailed her at a discrete distance as she travelled toward the coast. -=-=-=-=- Master Hawk MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: pjgeer@mothra.syr.EDU (Phillip J. Geer) Subject: [Raoh] Who's THAT guy??? Message-ID: <1993Mar25.151921.19497@newstand.syr.edu> Date: Thu, 25 Mar 93 15:19:21 EST Up to this point, Rustan hadn't said much to anyone. He mainly kept to himself, doing a few odd chores without being asked and scouting ahead from time to time. If anyone spoke to him, he answered with a grunt or a nod. Rustan wanted to understand what motivated the members of the group, particularly Sir Lance and his companion Blaze. Rustan felt that he could learn to like the somewhat aloof warrior, but Blaze the sorceress was another matter. Rustan believed that all warlocks could bear watching, seeing as they were all corrupted, so he thought, by the demon forces contracted to do their bidding. He decided he would soon have to have a talk with this Blaze to find out what forces she really pacted with. >Suddenly, Shadow awoke and started sniffing in Brycur's >direction, bristling and emitting a slight growl. Brycur turned fast and >drew his sword. Something was out there, in the trees and bushes. He >listened more closely. The stir of a single leaf would not go unnoticed. > A snap Brycur heard above his head. The merchant quickly slashed >the branch directly above him and rolled out of the way. He turned to >see his suspicions correct: the group was being watched. > The fallen man shook his head and stood. Before he could move >anywhere, though, Brycur pointed his sword toward the man's sternum and >said, "I wouldn't try anything were I in your shoes, buster!" Rustan leaped from his bedroll and crouched low, blackjack in hand as terrifying fears raced through his mind like stampeding wild horses. The Enemy, his own personal enemy, had finally gotten the drop on him. He had been completely and totally surprised and now it looked as though he would have to pay for his carelessness with his life. > "Please," the man said, in a serious voice, "I mean you no harm." > Suddenly, from behind the man, Sir Lance said, "Brycur, what has >happened?" The rest of the group was awakened by Shadow's growling and >the racket cause when the branch fell. > Brycur, not letting his eyes off the man, said, "I found this >person snooping around, Sir Lance. Says he wants to know why we are >here." Rustan stood up and lowered his weapon in relief. Taking in great gulps of air, he tried to relax. Eventually his pusle returned great gulps of air, he tried to relax. Eventually his pulse returned to normal and he was able to stop grinding his teeth. "Quite a rude awakening," he mumbled. Absently he reached for the special pipe of fresh air the old bearded guy from Broadmoor had given him and then decided against it. I'm getting too attached to the stuff, using it far too often, he thought. So he splashed some water on his face instead. Then, although still sort of befuddled with sleep, he tried to follow the conversation. > Blaze then said, "I _could_ manefest a steel bar or something, >although it would disappear in a minute or two." With that, she started >chanting under her breath. A few seconds later, a 4-foot-long steel bar >appeared in front of Brycur. Brycur picked up the bar and brought it >over to Ray, holding it firm. > Ray stood up, and started to move his arms like a ninja. Light >streams appeared from his fingertips as he moved them quickly. Suddenly, >Ray yelled out and, with a sweeping motion, flashed his hands across the >bar. > The bar was still appeared in one piece. Brycur was just about >to laugh when the bar severed into little pieces like they were cut by a >steaming hot knife. He dropped the last piece in amazement. The pieces >then disappeared. Rustan's eyes widened in amazement, then narrowed. Who was this strange fellow Ray, and what was he REALLY after? But most of all, was this the dreaded Enemy he had been fleeing for 8 long years, come at last to deliver the punishment promised long ago? Was this Ray, in actuality, the Avenger of Blood? ^^^^ Phil pjgeer@rodan.acs.syr.edu MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: This Week in Review (Mar-20-26) Date: 26 Mar 1993 07:00:08 GMT Message-ID: <1ou9lo$jpm@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: archives ADMIN: note, that due to time lags, some things may not reach my site until the week after you post them. To make sure a thread review or other article you wish included is included, please email me. ALSO - NO VIOLENCE IN THE DRAGON"S INN, NONE, AT ALL - any violent actions performed in the Inn will be considered a dream, illusion only visible to the poster, or something similarly ethereal. No matter how fast the attacker, Littlefair and Listener are faster, no matter how strong the attacker, Littlefair and Listener are stronger, get the picture? Newbie posts are forgiven, but it does not validate any actions therein. Just put it down to a bad dream. **** Due to extreme lack of submissions I am considering changing the **** purpose of the Review to being a thread catalogue and general **** annoucement forum. **** the thread catalogue may be tacked onto the Patron list and **** the announcement forum will *not* replace the Bulletin Board **** nor the odd ADMIN message. However it will be used for wide **** reaching ADMIN notices that do not fit into the Bulletin Board **** category, or aren't so urgent that they can wait a few days, **** thus cutting down the number of ADMIN's required. **** all feedback, comments, thoughts and criticism appreciated. **** its no point wasting bandwidth on an unnecessary service This Week in Review -=-=-=-=- Dragon's Inn and Newcomers Review: -=-=-=-=- Andrea, and her unicorn compatriot Sheryl, enter our fair(?) city and a kindly 'Raelf pays their board for the night, at the famous Dragon's Inn more threads than you can shake a loom at have sprung up and Generica is starting to look more like Specifica of the Textiles :) sorry if you are new and I've missed you, but unless its pretty obvious (eg. New character enters the Inn) or you tell me, I could miss it. -=-=-=-=- those in the INN (added to and deleted from when I'm told to) -=-=-=-=- Karl, Lifilis Kloote, Colin, Alicia, Kryalla, Amachiak & ChikCha, Merol of Kirilin, Kirkil Uaiz & Xrxs, Eski Boseni, ...sage -=-=-=-=- Thread Catalogue -=-=-=-=- [DB] title: Dark Blades contact: Morgan "the Dreamer" Broman notes: Dark Blades are a Low City-gang. They have killed/kidnapped Verden, third merchant of Generica and are framing Rameshan. They are also looking for an Artifact in the Shunned Center, AND carefully following the exploits of the Demon Spiders.... [TW] title: Twentlan Rescue Team contact : Jorma Pesonen notes: Leader of the Squiichar came to the Inn to gather a party to rescue the Queen of his people. Due to some space-time-continuum fluctuation the party left and vanished. Amachiak has returned to form a new group to find his Queen. [ST] title: Strange Tent contact : Jorma Pesonen notes: see in submitted reviews below [L&S] title: Luthor and Serene. contact: asg102@psuvm.psu.edu, alden@coos.dartmouth.edu official characters: Luthor, Serene, The Captain Primary Themes: Love, Family, Adventure, Enjoying Life, Good vs. Evil, Loss, and Revenge Secondary Themes: Meteorology, strained carrots, colorblindness. [MI] title: Moriarty Investigations contact: Aaron Humphrey involved: Dariel (Bernard Hsiung), the Mage Guild(common property), Jameson (Kelly J. Cooper), ...sage notes: moving towards story-telling mode Mostly an ego-tripping thread. ;-} Touches on the [DB] and [DS] threads; may brush briefly with the [SQ] thread. Will do anything for a reasonable price. ;-} [DS] title: Demon Spiders contact: Aaron Humphrey involved: Dark Blades (Morgan Broman), Nercrum(Chris Steiner) notes: Follows the exploits of the Demon Spiders gang, since they have separated from the [MI] thread--although they may merge back together at any time. [SQ] title: Shade Quest contact: Timothy Vaughan involved: aaron@atlantis.uucp, lapham3760@iscsvax.uni.edu, mabr@sweden.hp.com, djb6@midway.uchicago.edu notes: Some former members of the [R] thread returning to find their lost comrade Shade, somewhere under the Great Blue Ocean... [LQ] title: Lizard Quest (for lack of something better) contact: Jim Miller hadcrjam@admin.uh.edu involved: Colin, Thk, Sgt. Thorpe (NPC) notes: Colin Silvertree begins to search for the lizard man Thk and hopes to clear his name. Plot twists expected. [RATS] title: Rat Catchers contact: Hak Lien Chua involved: Higar (Hak Lien Chua), Git (D MORGAN), Firgun (Scott Bradburn), Bakr (Thomas Kettenring), a duck (NPC) notes: Searching the sewers for a real big rat and some fungi. [blade] contact Person: Daniel Reinker (dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu) involved: Meshtak, Arcadio, Chip, Gortok, Max, and Sir Tyrone notes: Battling the minions of Hendrix the Motherspawn [Kal&Co] title: Kal & Company contact: Brent Davis characters: Denner Train, E'Karam, Kalendraf, Kevin and Meran Quicksilver notes: Just getting started. The members banded together after being kicked out of the Dragon's Inn together following a drinking contest that nearly turned into a fight. [BBD] Contact: Mike Sander (344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu) Notes: The first thread named after the villian. Just starting, with room for growth (i.e., other PCs). See the reviews for updates. -=-=-=-=- submitted reviews to follow -=-=-=-=- ******************************************************************************** [BBd] by Michael Sander <344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu> This week for the [BBD] was the essential start of the thread, with several events. Lancos visited a seer (or perhaps closer to the other way around) named Enn Piecy, and got a glimpse into his past, present, and future, before sleeping off the activity of luthor's housewarming party at Enn's Meanwhile, Darvos was in much the same position of recovery, asleep on his couch. Lissa -- the girl Darvos had been taking care of -- left while the mage slept for her own reasons. She barely stepped into Low city before encountering trouble in the from of the Gutt Man, a brutal killer of children. However, fate was overall kinder to her. Darvos and Lancos -- the latter picking up a cat he named Bast as an animal companion and final acknowledgment of his rangerdom -- headed towards Low City through their own divinations. And a young girl known only as The Little Rat interfered , tripping up the Gutt Man. At the cost of her own safety, though, as the Gutt Man had had a bone to pick with the Little Rat before, and now wanted to pick out her bones. Little Rat and Lissa ran, but were herded into a dead-end alley. Things looked grim until Lancos distracted the Gutt Man, allowing Little Rat to sap Gutt Man into unconsciousness. Lancos calmed Little Rat down when Darvos entered the scene. And misinterpreted it, casting a spell upon Lancos. But then Darvos saw his mistake, with no real harm done, and the group decided to cart the Gutt Man off to the Keep. There was also a brief glance at a man known only as "BBD", who apparently had interest in Lissa, though for a heretofore unrevealed reason... ********************************************************************* ********************************************************************* compiled by ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Well, you did find it, but what is it? Date: 26 Mar 1993 21:07:35 GMT Message-ID: <1ovran$9ji@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> [ADMIN: Sorry for taking so long to post, Spring Break caught me.] Effandir overheard someone asking for the "special" as he walks down the stairs. He stopped and surveyed what he had decided was going to be possiby his last stand. The structure of the building left a lot to be desired, as did the inhabitants, but it was a place where most of what he did would go without question. /It's just a matter of time, my friends. I should be ready when you come. I just pray that you do not all choose to come at once./ An albino figure with blood red hair caught his eye. He looked like someone he could use, possibly a little more witted than the thief he currently let hang around him. Then he noticed the pygmy at his side and decided that these must be the people he was supposed to meet. They had some concept of a quest that they were following, part of which involved a book he had kept in his possession for the last three years. It would be interesting to see what they planned to do with it. Effandir continued down the stairs and knelt by the fire. Whispering a prayer to Cyric, he reached into the fire and withdrew the book. /Not an edge burned,/ he chuckled to himself. As he approached the albino he noticed a sizable group had formed around him. "Greetings. My name is Taredain. There is a mage in Generica that is also looking for this book. He is very persistant but is not in his own element here. I have fought him before. If you intend to gain a sizable profit from your quest, then my services could be useful. I, myself, could never see what was so interesting about this book." Life is a Swamp, and above the Swamp, there is Fog. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac559@Freenet.carleton.ca (Ian Clysdale) Subject: [JOI] A purpose, well maybe... Message-ID: <1993Mar26.211457.8563@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Fri, 26 Mar 1993 21:14:57 GMT Elanon looks at the three who have gathered around his table, and greets them. "I take it that you are those who thirst for adventure; who tire of the sedentary life. Then I offer you a life of adventure, and a change from the boredom of the town yet. I have called you together to have travelling companions, people with whom to roam the whole length of the land if necessary, administering good, fighting evil, and discovering adventure. My first thought was of the lands far to the east, of the lands that are still unknown. For those lands are ruled by corruption, corruption that we must fight. If you are with me, we shall leave tomorrow." -Elanon of Ullswater- -- Ian Clysdale | "Power attract the corruptible, and Vote for me in '98! | absolute power attracts the absolutely ac559@freenet.carleton.ca | corruptible." -Frank Herbert MagicHutchHeader From: rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Kyar's reply to Elanon (and others) Message-ID: <1993Mar26.142140.6548@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 26 Mar 93 14:21:40 CST Kyar took a long pull at his ale, which was considerably watery compared to the fine drink he had enjoyed at the Dragon's Inn. He sighed slightly, and moved as if to speak to Elanon. He was interrupted, however, by the appearance of Aleric. Aleric spoke briefly to Elanon of joining the group for whatever excursion Elanon had planned, so Kyar kept quiet. After all, he didn't know what Elanon had planned either. At almost the same instant that Aleric finished speaking, Alarond made his entrance, his greeting suggesting to Kyar that he and Elanon were old friends. Introductions were made, and everyone sat at the small table. Elanon ordered another flask of ale and two more mugs for the newcomers, then turned to Kyar. "I believe you were about to tell me about yourself." he stated. "There really isn't much to tell." Kyar replied, "I woke up about two weeks ago in a farmhouse several days ride to the east of here. I have no memory of a time before that. All I have are my weapons, the clothes on my back, and this." Kyar held up the small amulet that hung around his neck. It was a small platinum disk, imprinted with a cirle cut by a scimitar. "I know that the circle represents the Phadra, the life force that exists in nearly all things. No matter how hard I try to remember, that is all that comes back to me. The only other thing I get is a massive headache. I am hoping to find someone who has trained in the psionic disciplines to aid me in recovering my memory." Kyar took another drink of the bitter ale, then turned to Aleric. "What of you Aleric? Tell us about yourself. And then perhaps Elanon could tell us exactly what the nature of this excursion is." ______________ Jason Rosenberger, rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet, Western Ky University MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] Andrea Goes Shopping Date: Fri, 26 Mar 93 21:10:34 CST Message-ID: <16B9D129CA.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: [AU] Andrea unicorn Sheryl Callus Low City ADMIN: This post takes place AFTER the entry by Stephen Hutchison entitled "quite a sight to see". If you haven't read it yet, you should probably mark this one as unread and wait for it to propagate to your site. Thanks! After Andrea left the Mages' Guild, she crossed the street to another building that had caught her eye. Like the Mages' Guild, this building showed a mixture of many different architectural styles. Unlike the Mage's Guild, however, this one looked capable of standing on its own without magical help. The sign said that it was a library. Andrea stepped inside, looked around. There were shelves and shelves full of books and scrolls. Sheryl walked in behind her, causing the librarian on duty to look up and say, "I'm sorry, but except for seeing-eye creatures, we don't allow pets in this--" Then she caught sight of the horn on Sheryl's head and trailed off. "Don't worry, she won't hurt anything. Will you, Sheryl?" Sheryl shook her head, the epitomy of angelic behavior. Her hooves clicked lightly on the tile floor as she followed Andrea, subdued, trying to cause as little noise as possible. After looking around to get her bearings, Andrea walked to the reference section dealing with unicorns. She always read whatever books or scrolls she could find on the subject, and had ever since the...she had for more than ten years. She selected a dusty tome, blew the dust off (causing Sheryl to sneeze twice), and opened it. There was a color plate of a unicorn, a fey and mysterious creature rearing and pawing the air. Andrea ran her finger down the next page, trying to decypher the archaic printing. "Ye unicorne be a magikal creature ov poweres great..." she muttered. Skimming, she could find nothing there that she hadn't known already, so she returned the book to the shelf. Andrea spent a few more minutes browsing, then left the library, not much wiser than she had been when she had entered. But it was as well. Andrea liked libraries--they were the one place that she considered sacred enough not to steal from. If it hadn't been for her unique problem, Andrea often thought, she might have been a mage. She'd always liked to read, an unusual avocation for a farmer's daughter...but she'd forced the cleric in her village to teach her to read and had thus commenced her quest for knowledge at an early age. She considered any time spent in a library as never wasted, and promised herself she'd return here one day when she had more time. Now Andrea and Sheryl walked back down the Arcade of Fountains. It was getting to be early afternoon, with short shadows reaching in an easterly direction as the sun stood nearly overhead. Andrea paused to drink at one of the purified fountains. As always, the water tasted crystal clear, as though it had just come pouring out of the side of a mountain. Andrea reflected wryly that as long as she had Sheryl around, she had no need for water purification tablets. As she passed over the bridge, the guards once again gave her and Sheryl strange looks, but Andrea ignored them. Inwardly she enjoyed their consternation. That was one advantage to travelling with a unicorn...the confusion it caused often enabled her to make her thefts that much more easily. However, her trade was not on her mind at the moment. Shopping was. Andrea had been forced to leave a good deal of her gear behind on the last trip...the necessity was for a speedy exit, and about all she had time to grab had been her weapons, her pack, and Sheryl. Well, if she wanted to do business here, she'd have to purchase some materials. From past experience, Andrea knew where this could be done. Almost every city had a slum area, where contraband was bought and sold daily. All she had to do was ask directions. And she bet that someone at the Inn would know. Fifteen minutes later, Andrea and Sheryl walked back into the Dragon's Inn. There were people at the tables, talking, drinking, eating, or doing other things. There were a few folks at the bar, conversing with Rowan Littlefair about the weather and other little mundane things while he refilled their glasses. And a man with a lute was sitting on the mantel of the hearth over the fireplace, strumming and singing. He appeared to be finishing up a set. He sang: I have an incantation that will make you stare and wonder It won't give piglets cholera or break strong chains asunder It won't send from Valhalla a small horde of pliant nurses; It's the gift of song So sing along.......... So sorry -- out of verses. Several people applauded, Andrea included, and the man grinned. "Thank you, thank you. I'm glad you appreciate my music." "Hey, Listener...do you know Greensleeves?" someone asked. The man snorted. "Of course, what do you take me for?" He started playing his lute again, and sang, "Alas, my love, you do me wrong..." Andrea took a seat at the bar as the song continued. She looked over the menu. "I think the fresh fried halibut looks nice. What will you have, Sheryl...Sheryl?" She turned, and saw that the little unicorn was standing entranced by Listener's playing. Andrea nudged her. "Hey, what will you have?" Sheryl snorted, then continued watching Listener. She gave the impression that she couldn't care less about food right now; she was interested in hearing the man play! Andrea shrugged. "Do you have any micronized corn...?" she asked Littlefair. As the two of them ate, Sheryl making enough noise as three people as she crunched the corn, someone sat down beside them. Andrea looked up and so did Sheryl, pieces of corn still clinging to her muzzle.. It was Listener, the man who had been doing all that playing. His lute hung by a strap over his back, and he regarded the twosome with an expression of mild interest. "Good afternoon, ladies," he said, glancing at Andrea and then at Sheryl. "It is uncommon, to say the least, to see a unicorn here, especially in the company of a charming young lady such as yourself." Andrea didn't quite blush, being used to flattery by those whose real interest was in her unicorn. But this man seemed somehow sincere, and Sheryl seemed to trust him. "I can imagine," Andrea said drily. Listener appeared not to notice the sarcasm. "Indeed. Might I ask what brings you to our fair city?" At Andrea's cool look, he said, "I'd like to write a ballad, you see, but one cannot write a ballad with no information." He strummed his lute experimentally, as if coming up with a tune already. Andrea shrugged. "Maybe later." Listener nodded. "Of course. I'll be around for a long, long time." He glanced toward the hearth. "Oh, you must excuse me. I think they want me to play some more." "Wait a minute," Andrea said. "Can you tell me where I might go to find..." She tried to come up with a suitable word. "...UNUSUAL items?" "'Unusual items...?'" Listener murmured to himself. "'Unusual...' Oh! I understand. I understand exactly." He smiled craftily. "What you want is to go south from the Inn, along the Arcade of Unforgotten Heroes, then turn west. That's the Low City. You should find what you need there." Andrea nodded. "Thank you." Listener turned to go, then half-turned back and said, "I wouldn't take your friend there with you, though." "Don't worry," Andrea assured him. "I don't intend to. Hey, Littlefair! How much to rent a room for the night?" A half-hour later, Andrea walked, alone, down a street lined with statues of various heroes from the past. Many of them were covered with rust or moss, and some were piled high with bird droppings. Andrea kept her right hand on her shortsword and made sure that the dagger in the drop-sheath on her left arm was loose and ready to go at the first sign of trouble. Andrea now entered the Low City, a dingy, unwholesome part of town. It was the same place in a hundred different cities, all over again. There were dingy shops, bars, prostitution houses (Andrea hurried past these), and everything, even the sky, seemed darker here than in the other parts of town. Graffiti lined the walls, saying things like "MELWIS is a PRICK!!!" or "Kum tu the Spitting Cobra!" or even "Kilroy Was Here!!!" whatever that might mean. Andrea ignored it all, walking onward. Before long, she started to hear noises up ahead. It was the sound of a busy market--just what she was looking for. She quickened her step-- Then someone had her by the neck and was holding a knife to her throat. "I want your gold--all of it," a voice rasped from behind her Andrea feigned fear. "All--all right sir...let me get it out of my pocket...just don't hurt me..." As she'd hoped, the arm restraining her by the neck let go, questing for her pocket. This left just the arm with the dagger to contend with. No time like the present... Andrea reached up, grabbed the knife arm, and applied a wrist lock. "Gyaaah!" the knife-wielder gasped as his dagger fell from nerveless fingers. "You picked the wrong girl to hassle this time," Andrea said. She shifted her hold on the arm and heaved. The would-be mugger went flying over her shoulder, to land on his back on the ground with an OOF! "I'm glad I took those classes that the monk offered in elementary self-defense," Andrea said. Then she had the thug's own knifepoint at his throat. "Now, why don't you just take all your clothes off..." "Wha--but--" the robber stammered. Andrea kicked him in a tender spot. "Do it," she said, as he doubled over in pain. "And then you're going to walk on out into that square in just your underthings." The mugger complied, stripping out of his boots, breeches, shirt, etc. Andrea backed away, holding her nose. "Pew," she said. "Don't you ever bathe?" Her knife was held in a throwing position, so there was no question about him obeying her. He sighed, put his hands on his head, and started walking forward, out into the market area. There were a wide variety of stalls here, selling everything from foodstuffs to weapons. A variety of citizens were standing around, talking with each other or to the vendors, and a few rough-looking customers were standing by with weapons ready in case an emergency were to arise. As Andrea and the unfortunate would-be mugger walked into the area, almost everyone fell silent. "This man tried to waylay me," Andrea said. "He didn't quite succeed." This was the signal for the start of a good eal of laughter at the unfortunate thief. After all the laughter subsided, Andrea said, "Okay, get out of my sight. And don't let me see you again, or it'll be the worse for you." The man scrambled off, and Andrea walked up to one of the stalls. "You may have made yourself an enemy, missy," the vendor remarked. "Callus doesn't like being humiliated." "And I don't like being held up, so I'd say we're about even," Andrea replied cooly. "Now, I'm here to do some business, so let's get down to it. How much do you want for these sharkskin gloves...?" The sun was a good deal lower in the western sky when Andrea had finished her purchases. She'd found some good deals here, as well as some outrageously high prices she'd had no choice but to pay. She wondered if word of her purchases would get back to the local Thieves' Guild. Probably, but she wasn't worried. She could deal with Guilds when the necessity arose. With her pack now much fuller than it had been when she'd come, Andrea began her trek back to the Dragon's Inn. She was even more wary on the way out than she had been on the way in, knowing that Callus might be waiting to jump her even now. But fortunately, she made it out of the Low City without incident, and was back at the Inn in another ten minutes. Sheryl, who had been waiting impatiently in the room Andrea had rented, was exceedingly glad to see her. She whinnied happily, and trotted up to rub against Andrea's leg. "Hey, take it easy, Sher! I've only been gone a few hours!" They sat at the same table they had occupied the day before when 'Raelf and ar'Elya had dropped by. It wasn't QUITE dinner time yet, so Andrea dumped out some of the gadgets she'd picked up that day in the market and got to work. Some of them hadn't quite worked right, and she'd gotten them at a discount thinking maybe she could repair them. Currently she was fiddling with a small device that resembled a fountain pen. It actually concealed a spring-loaded blade, and was called a "death knife" on the street. However, the spring wasn't quite adjusted right, and the blade tended to stick instead of shooting out. Andrea tinkered with the knife happily, whistling a cheerful little tune that some might have recognized as "We're In the Money." Sheryl sniffed curiously at one or two of the items, but knew from experience that to mess around with them could cause unpredictable (and dangerous) results. She contented herself with looking around and listening to the songs being played by Listener at the other end of the bar. "There's nothing like the tools of the trade to make you feel ALIVE again," Andrea thought. "Now, all I have to do is find a good way in which to put them to use..." ADMIN: The verse about the Gift of Song is shamelessly stolen from a previous post by caz@owlnet.rice.edu (HWRNMNBSOL). As always, if you wish to add to this thread, just write me (replying to this post would work). -- Chris Meadows || "The Zetons look like beautiful CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || women, but their tissues are made CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || of paper, so they burn, like paper." CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || --Captain Harlock, Ziv's lame-o dub. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG][AU] quite a sight to see Message-ID: References: <16B991325B.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Date: Sat, 27 Mar 1993 01:29:43 GMT [ADMIN] Pardon any multiple copies of this you might see. I got the wrong file into my windpipe. I *think* I've cancelled all the botches. This is a crossover between Andrea&Unicorn and Mages'Guild threads. Just a small one, though, no earthshaking disasters. Chris wanted me to point out that I corrected a typo in the quote of "Off to see the Wizards" which precedes my post - the original had Sheryl tossing some silver onto the table to pay for the food, and unicorns seldom carry pocket change. ------ + "Coming right up," Littlefair said, and true to his word, in +under five minutes their breakfast was ready. Andrea and Sheryl +ate, and then Andrea plunked down a few silvers on the table to +pay for the meal. "That was quite good." + "Thank you," Littlefair said. + "Do you know where I might find 'Raelf?" Andrea asked as she +turned to go. "I would like to thank him for his hospitality of +last night." + "You might try asking at the Wizards' Guild," the innkeeper +suggested. He walked to the door and pointed down the street. +"You go down there, then you..." He gave her detailed +directions, then as he returned to the bar, Andrea pulled out a +gold coin and tossed it to him. + "Thanks," Andrea said. Then, "Come on, Sheryl...we have a +Guild to visit." Once they got outside, Andrea said, "So, +'Raelf's a magician, eh? This gets better and better...maybe he +can help us!" + And with that, the twosome started off down the street, +following the directions Littlefair had given her. If it had +been the Andrea of several years previous, her mind would have +been abuzz and her spirits lifted with hope that a wizard could +help her, but by this time she had long since lost much of her +faith in wizards--none of them had been able to help her before. +She was more looking forward to the chance to thank 'Raelf +properly and apologize for any embarrassment she might have +caused than to see about securing an end to the condition which +had caused her and Sheryl to wander nearly from one end of the +world to the other. As for Sheryl, she capered down the street, +thoughts of angst and suffering farthest from her mind. Andrea +almost envied her that. + It was in these frames of mind that Andrea and Sheryl walked +down the street toward the Wizards' Guild. The instructions weren't really complicated - "Go out the door, turn right, stay on the street until you come to the guild hall. You'll know it when you see it." She strode confidently up the street, Sheryl frolicking around - but not too far away from her; she was drawing a few stares from the passers-by, and one or two of those were avaricious. A warning glance from Andrea sent those ones running. The avenue came up to a bridge - the plaque read "Keruon" in the old common runic, and the river was about a half mile across at this stretch. The bridge was hung between pylons, a mish-mosh of styles, not quite a suspension bridge, not quite an arched bridge. There was only one center support, and the arch of the bridge wasn't very steep, just enough to provide leverage. It was fairly wide - the street was wide enough for five men to walk, arms outstretched and hands touching at fingertips, and the bridge was a little wider, to make room for the raised walkways on either side. Andrea gestured and Sheryl came in closer to her. They started across, stopping briefly to glance down at the traffic below. The central pylon was bigger than the bridge, and there was a building on it, a few shops and a pie store and a guard station. She smiled sweetly at the guards as they stared with suspicion - this adventurer was clearly not a fighter, so she had to be a thief, but what thief was pure enough to keep a unicorn as a pet? The bridge arched downwards again, towards the far side of the river. The street kinked a bit, going off more to the north on this side. Things were Much Nicer over there - the houses and buildings were freshly painted, servants' entrances, that sort of thing. Not quite as much traffic. Sheryl saw the first fountain and nickered a strange sort of noise. She pranced up to it, jumped in, splashing water around herself. From a nearby house, a servant came rushing out - "Here, get that animal out of the ... oh. Sorry, ma'am" and went back in, embarrassed. Unicorns were Not Bad Things to find in your water. "Come on, Sheryl, we need to get going." "Pbbtr-weeeeeigh!" The unicorn jumped out, and preceded Andrea as they wend up the Avenue of Fountains, stopping at each fountain to deliberately dip her horn in and splash around a bit. The waters sparkled brightly as she passed. Andrea stopped for a moment in front of a milliners shop. The woman going in was blocking the entire walkway, and the production she was making of exiting her carriage, crossing the three feet to the door, and entering the shop, reminded Andrea of the airs that were put on by the noble daughters in her homeland. Of course, this one didn't wear any of the badges of nobility, but that down-the-nose sort of look was a sure sign of someone wanting to be taken down a few steps. She put on her awed-at-the-great-lady expression while considering if there was any profit in tracking her down later and "visiting" her house. But not right now, she decided, she still needed to get the lay of the town. "Darling, there's a unicorn in the garden." Andrea turned, looking for Sheryl. She wasn't in sight. There was a house with a large, fenced-in ornamental garden, the wrought-iron fence coming down to the street; she looked through and past the hedge of shrubs to see Sheryl looking placidly at a somewhat-older man, who was holding a cup of tea in one hand. A faint, bored voice came from inside the house, a woman's voice. "That's nice, dear." The man held out a rose to Sheryl, who happily ate the flower off. "Darling, the unicorn just ate one of my roses." "Yes dear. Come inside now." The man went inside, and Andrea stage-whispered: "Sheryl! Get over here!" The 'corn skipped over, then ducked down and through the hedge, and got through a wide spot in the wrought-iron fence. The woman's voice came from inside: "You're out of your mind. I'm going to call the hospital and have you committed." Andrea nudged Sheryl and they proceeded up the street, oblivious to the domestic disaster unfolding behind them. They went two more blocks, and four more fountains were magically purified by the Unicorn horn. Then they came to the Mages' Guild - LittleFair had been truthful, it was unmistakeable. It was only four stories high but there were at least fifteen stories worth of doors, windows, and such - and there were walkways and fountains and things on parts of it, but the directions they went had nothing to do with up and down. It was painted a very pretty color, sort of a rose-petal-pink, with green borders and blue trim. The entry was a big glassed-in area, probably stone or metal that had been enchanted to be transparent, because that much glass would be impossible to blow out without rippling or clouding or bubbles. The door was even stranger - it was like a wheel on its side, with walls of glass, and it went around in a circle. People went in one side, the door turned, and they came out the other. It was very strange. Sheryl thought it was fascinating. She skipped up to it, Andrea hurrying up behind her, and managed to push on one of the glass faces with her horn before Andrea could stop her. There, she was inside, and Andrea got bumped from behind as the door swung her around and deposited her inside as well. "Stop that! Don't play with the door, Sheryl," she scolded, trying to regain her dignity. She looked around, but nobody seemed to be laughing at them. Directly across from the door was a young, roundish short woman wearing a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, slid halfway down her nose. "May I help you, ladies?" the woman asked. "Uhm. I'm looking for the magician called 'Raelf, I was told I might be able to contact him here." "Let me see if he's on site." The woman made a flipping-through-rolodex sort of gesture, and stopped, examining one of the invisible cards. "He's in conference with Archmage Dasham. Shall I page him?" "Would he be interrupted?" "Not if he doesn't want to be." "Oh, well, sure, I guess." She tapped a finger against the invisible card, and a chime sounded. "You have a guest at the front desk." She smiled the professional smile of a receptionist. "Please have a seat in our waiting area." "Thanks." Andrea followed the direction she was pointing. There was a comfortable-looking set of overstuffed chairs around a small table, with a carafe of some savory-hot smelling beverage and cups. Andrea was sure that it hadn't been there before. Sheryl trotted over and began to eat the popcorn from the bowl on the table. Andrea shrugged and sat down. "I wonder how long this is going to be?" "Not long at all. Glad to see you're feeling better." 'Raelf appeared in the chair next to her, not wearing the colorful garb he'd worn the day before, but this time wearing an almost sedate black poncho and long black baggy pants. He was wearing amber-colored goggles of some kind, with sparkly runes flashing along the edges. "Sorry to be working while I talk to you, I only have a few hours to do this analysis before I have to go back to Dash's labs." "Oh, that's quite alright. I wanted to thank you for helping me last night, and I want to repay you your gold." "My pleasure. But don't bother with the gold, it's no big deal, I can get more of the stuff. Think of it as me paying someone else back a debt to them." He pulled a sheaf of papers from empty air, and started waving an amulet over them one at a time, returning each one to the empty air. "That's a strange way of doing things. The gold, I mean." "Yeah, isn't it? Confusion and chaos to the hidebound." "Anyway, so, you're a magician, then." "Well, yeah, I guess so. I don't think of myself that way." "Do you know about breaking curses?" 'Raelf laughed. "I seem to be in demand for that sort of thing lately, but it's not my specialty by any means. Who's got the curse, then?" "Sheryl." "Really? She seems like a pretty carefree 'corn to me. May I take a look?" He nodded to the unicorn, who had finished the popcorn and was sniffing at the papers he was doing things to. She nickered, and assumed a well-practiced, bored sort of stance. "Done this before, eh?" He took the amulet he'd been using on the papers, and whispered into it. After a few seconds a golden light sprang out and washed over the young unicorn. Sparks began to fly off her horn and hooves, and her eyes began to glow with internal fire. He held it for a while, then covered it, stopping the light. The unicorn returned to her normal aspect. "OK, I'll run that through standard and detail and let you know what I come up with. Hey, should I do the same for you? Sometimes these things can be contagious." "Uh, I'm not sure, what will this cost me?" Andrea was almost panicked, the thought of her being accursed hadn't occured to her. "Oh, for diagnostics, nothing - if there's anything I can do for you, then we'll work out the terms." "All right then. What do I need to do?" "Just hold still." He aimed the light from the amulet at her, and she flinched as it washed across her. She wondered what she was supposed to feel, her hands started itching, and she flexed them nervously, then held them still again. "Great. Hey, this'll take a few hours to run, and I've got to finish this records search so I can get back before Dasham misses me. How about we meet tonight at the Dragons' Inn, I'll tell you what I discovered." "All right." "Cool. See you there around sunset." He picked up the remaining papers and nodded, then vanished. "That was strange." Sheryl nickered agreement, and whiffled at the bowl where the popcorn had been. MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Aleric's response to Kyar Message-ID: <1993Mar27.000912.4853@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 27 Mar 93 00:09:11 -0500 During Kyar's speech Aleric's eyes had turned from their neutral shade of slate blue to a deeper blue of preocupation. Something about the name Phadra tugged at his memory, but he didn't remember where he had heard of it before. Since he could add nothing on that score, he didn't mention it. He pushed a tawny forelock away from his eyes as he spoke. "For my part, I have only recently come to Generica from lands to the south. I have spent the last few years as a hired guard and training with Xel-Ha." Aleric poked a thumb at the elaborately worked hilt poking over his shoulder. The huge double handed broadsword, inherited through the generations, was his sole claim to any family. "But the south lands were a little too tame. That's why I came here only a few days ago and began nosing around trying to find someone interested in joining me in an adventure. I was told by several people to go to the Drift Inn and talk to Elanon with the blood red hair. So, I came to join your company." Aleric picked up his mug and drank. He was definitely interested in Kyar's reasons for joining. Taredain was an enigma. He wasn't quite sure what his interests in this matter were. And the little sprite to his left was apparently a friend of Elanon's. Aleric was interested in finding out what Alarond had to say. His entrance had certainly been dramatic. He turned toward Alarond and said, "Elanon may know you, but the rest of us don't. How about telling us what brought you here?" MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac169@Freenet.carleton.ca (Darryl Farr) Subject: [JOI] Elanon, old friend! Message-ID: <1993Mar27.060849.29731@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Sat, 27 Mar 1993 06:08:49 GMT As Elanon finished his speech, a tall, lanky human disengaged himself from the bar and loped over. "Elanon, old friend! It's me... Ildamar! I haven't seen you in... must be about 15 years now! How have the fates treated you?" "Ildamar! I didn't recognize you! You look so... human! Have you come to accompany us on our quest?" replied Elanon, as he rose from his chair. The two men grasped each other's forearms and delivered a hearty shake. "Will you join us in a drink?" "Of course, for old times sake! As for my appearance, well, while in Rome... Remember Rome? Ah, those were the days. Not a necromancer we wouldn't at least _try_ to face. I understand you're setting off once again. I would be glad to tag along. Somebody has to keep this bunch from tearing up the countryside. Is this everybody?" asked Ildamar as he gracefully lowered himself to a chair, his silver eyes glinting mischievously. "Bartender! Fruit juice! Orange if you have it, apple if you don't." "Coming up, sorr!" called the bartender. He brought the glass to the table as Elanon introduced Ildamar to the group. When the introductions were complete, Elanon continued, "We're still waiting for a few more, but time passes quickly, and we cannot tarry much longer." Ildamar eased back in his chair and stretched his legs out under the table. He sipped his juice and looked at the other two men. They looked competent, but only some actual adventure would say for sure. Darryl Farr The Grey Man -- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hibschmn@dial.Princeton.EDU (Johann Allen Hibschman) Subject: [JOI] Room for one more? Message-ID: <1993Mar27.014656.13509@Princeton.EDU> Date: Sat, 27 Mar 1993 01:46:56 GMT A slight elf sat by the wall of the Drift Inn, nursing an ale and muttering to himself in the murky light. "Quaeros, what are you doing here? This bar, with no one you know. This town, which does not seem to recognize your god..." He took a sip of his ale and glanced about the room. Business as usual in a tavern, such as this. Arguing, loving, the stuff of life. A redhead catches his eye; there seems to be a few people gathering around him. Something about this small group seems different, unlike the typical traffic of the inn... Curiosity strikes, and Quaeros gets up from his chair and slowly works his way towards that table. Soon he can overhear parts of the conversation. Adventure, the redhead promises! Quaeros considers, searches his memory for more pressing engagements, and finds none. He cautiously approaches the table, keeping a watchful eye on the patrons there, and addresses the redhead: "Greetings, good sir! I could not help but overhear that you are seeking companions for a great adventure. If you have room for one more, I'd be honored to travel with you, for I have little to do here in this town. I may only place my service of my god at your service." -Quaeros --------------------------------------------------------------------- Johann Hibschman | My brain hurts! Sorry! Shut up! hibschmn@phoenix.princeton.edu | Sorry! My brain hurts! Shut up! --------------------------------------------------------------------- MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] [Jiri] Hail and Well Met! Date: Sat, 27 Mar 93 10:28:11 CST Message-ID: <16B9E933B.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: [AU] [Jiri] Andrea Sheryl unicorn Khyra ADMIN: This posting is actually mostly by Kalhad the Blackk . I would like to thank him for his help! This post takes place immediately following the entries [AU] Andrea Goes Shopping, and [Jiri] The Wolfmage has Come... I hope you enjoy this, and remember, if you want to use my characters or write on my thread, all you have to do is ask! In article <16B9D129CA.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Chris > Andrea tinkered with the knife happily, whistling a cheerful >little tune that some might have recognized as "We're In the >Money." Sheryl sniffed curiously at one or two of the items, but >knew from experience that to mess around with them could cause >unpredictable (and dangerous) results. She contented herself >with looking around and listening to the songs being played by >Listener at the other end of the bar. > "There's nothing like the tools of the trade to make you >feel ALIVE again," Andrea thought. "Now, all I have to do is >find a good way in which to put them to use..." > >Chris Meadows >CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET Kalhad the Blackk : Kyhra stood, surveying the Inn as he did, looking for someone who would be suitable to hire as a guide in the city. After a monent he saw what he wanted and crossed over to the table in front of the fireplace. Andrea was still whistling as she fiddled with the knife. With a slightly audible click, and a joyful expression from Andrea, the spring slid into place. The dark-haired thief tested it out a few times, flipping the blade open by the hidden catch in the handle, then closing it again. When she was satisfied that it was working properly, she set the "pen" aside and took up another of her new items. As she did, Sheryl whinnied nervously as she caught a strange scent approching. Andrea wasn't paying attention, and she was surprised when a gruff voice broke her concentration. "Excuse me, milady, but I couldn't help noticing you and your companion over here. Might I make a proposition?" Sheryl shuffled nervously, trying to hide behind Andrea, who also had shrunk back a little in surprise when she first beheld the towering man-cat who addressed her. She cursed at herself for not hearing his approach. "What sort of proposition?" she asked guardedly, her hand creeping toward the just-laid-aside death knife. Then added, "If it's entertainment or trouble that you're looking for, you'd best inquire somewhere else." The strange feline let out a mirthful laugh before replying. "But that's exectly what I'm looking for--entertainment, and perhaps a little bit of trouble! My name is Kyhra, and I am only just arrived in this city. I noted that you are definitely a woman who knows what is going on around her, and perhaps knows what to do about it. One would have to be, travelling with such a noble yet innocent companion." Here Kyhra nodded at the young 'corn that still regarded him warily from behind Andrea's chair. "As to my proposition," he added, "I would like to hire you to guide me around the city--especially the areas of disrepute known as the Low City." Kyhra picked up a small and clever hand lamp from the table, one of Andrea's purchases of that afternoon. "I can see by your shopping bag that you have been to the part of the city where they sell, ah, special items." Kyhra fiddled absently with the broken hinge on the lamp as he waited for the girl in black to reply. "Leave that alone," Andrea yelled as she snatched the light back from Kyhra. "And why would I want to be a sight-shower to the likes of you?" She silently added, "Whatever you are." "Ah, milady, please do not take offence by my presence, nor my remarks. I am merely a humble adventurer as yourself, seeking the aid of one who walks along similar roads." Kyhra lowered his voice. "I can clearly see that you are a thief, milady. My companion and I are looking for one or two in your profession. We would like to turn a good bit of coin in this city, a city which seems to be full of opportunity. Perhaps a joining of ways would be prudent for a time, hmmm?" Raising his voice back up to conversational level, Kyhra smiled pleasently and nearly purred. "I will make it worth your while to show me around the Low City and the Harbour tonight. I am also interested in any information that you might have concerning certain guilds of the city, and of the ships that frequent the port. Do not fear for your safety while in my company, though I doubt that you do at anytime. What do you say?" Andrea sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "Sorry, pal. Not much that I can do to help you. I'm new here myself, and I haven't been down to the 'City or the Harbour very much yet." Before Andrea could turn away Kyhra laughed again and slapped a paw to his thigh. "Hai! But then let us explore it together. Come! We'll go down to the Harbor, have a few drinks and see what we can learn. The drinks are on me tonight, milady. What do you say?" Andrea allowed a faint smile to touch her lips as she looked to Sheryl before nodding. "All right, why not? Kirha, was it?" "Kyhra, milady." "Okay, Kyhra. I'm Andrea, and this is Sheryl." She whispered to her companion, who then stepped a little closer to Kyhra, though warily. "Hail and well met, noble Sheryl. I am truly honoured to meet one of Sievnaer's holy creatures." Kyhra extended a paw, which Sheryl cautiously sniffed before whickering her approval. --Dargon D'aragohna Chris Meadows (CHM173S@SMSVMA) "However, we'll have to postpone the expedition for a while...I'm waiting for a friend right now, with whom I have some business. He should be arriving rather shortly, though." Khyra shrugged. "Very well. But at least allow me to buy you dinner." Andrea shrugged. "All right, by all means. If you wish to pay for my meal, why should I stop you?" She smiled, and reached for the heavy grappling arrow that she'd thought just needed a good cleaning. "I might as well get some more work done while I wait." -- Chris Meadows || "The Zetons look like beautiful CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || women, but their tissues are made CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || of paper, so they burn, like paper." CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || --Captain Harlock, Ziv's lame-o dub. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac559@Freenet.carleton.ca (Ian Clysdale) Subject: [JOI] The companions... Message-ID: <1993Mar27.142204.23641@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Sat, 27 Mar 1993 14:22:04 GMT Elanon looks up, and around, then speaks. "Very well. All that I knew were coming are here, as well as one I had not expected but am very glad to see. It has indeed been too long, friend Ildamar. We are heading to the east, to seek adventure. I have long been sedentary, and tire of this city life. If you wish to come with me, we will leave tonight. We are ready to go." Elanon orders ale all round, with the exception of orange juice for Ildamar, and holds a toast to the new companionship. -- Ian Clysdale | "Power attract the corruptible, and Vote for me in '98! | absolute power attracts the absolutely ac559@freenet.carleton.ca | corruptible." -Frank Herbert MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Taredain has his doubts Date: 27 Mar 1993 19:39:17 GMT Message-ID: <1p2ah5$66e@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> Taredain tries to avoid making a disgusted face as he sips the ale. "This looks to be a formidable group, but I would prefer to know exactly what we intend to do. It's usually not wise to join a quest against evil when the evil is a complete unknown." Life is a Swamp, and above the Swamp there is Fog. MagicHutchHeader From: jmondak@vax.cns.muskingum.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] The "humble sprite" tells his tale Message-ID: <1993Mar27.142812.4855@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 27 Mar 93 14:28:12 -0500 "Well I'm glad _someone_ finally noticed me! I've been sitting around listening to all of this babble and I'm getting quite impatient!" "Calm down little elf, if that is what you really are", Kyar says with a suspicious smile,"Now that we all have a drink in our hands, let's let the "humble sprite" tell his tale." "Why thank you Kyar and Aleric, I do believe that I will say a little about myself so that we can come to better understanding as to how I fit into this little adventure. "First of all, Kyar, you are correct in thinking that I am not what I appear to be. I am a shape-changer, a changeling if you will. I was raised by the faction of the High Elves that created Aleric's amazing sword. It is a nice sword isn't it? Anyway, swords and other weapons of the like have no interest to me. I am a peace-loving creature, but don't get me in a pinch or I will pinch back! All modesty aside, I am quite the shrewd thief, being a shape-changer and all, so I am quite handy to have around.... especially since my hobby and passion is collecting little curiosities--gadgets." "Are you finally finished Little One?" questions a smiling Elanon. "Well yes and no. I would still like to know what you meant about danger on this journey. It wasn't stated in the advertisement and since you know that you know that I wouldn't go along if I knew that before I came this way, I'm feeling rather duped! Well, I'm here so I will join you. However, I would first like to hear about our new companions, especially you Taredain. I do not recognize your accent and your dress intrigues me..." MagicHutchHeader From: rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] So what's the plan? Message-ID: <1993Mar27.153721.6556@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 27 Mar 93 15:37:21 CST References: <1993Mar27.142204.23641@freenet.carleton.ca> > Elanon: "We are heading to the east, to seek adventure. > I have long been sedentary, and tire of this city life. If > you wish to come with me, we will leave tonight. We are ready > to go." > Elanon orders ale all round, with the exception of orange > juice for Ildamar, and holds a toast to the new companionship. Kyar smiled and took a long, deep draught of his ale. He liked this Elanon. He sat his mug down and turned back to Aleric. "Well met, friend Aleric. I look forward to when we will ride into battle together. Indeed," he said, looking at the formidable group that had gathered around the table, "who could stand against a group such as this?" Taredain spoke briefly of his reservations, questioning Elanon about the nature of the adventure, and what kind of enemies the group would be facing. "Yes, Elanon." Kyar said, "I too am curios to know our destination and purpose. Taredain is right-- one should not go into battle unprepared for what they may face." MagicHutchHeader From: scavanag@neumann.une.edu.au (Steven Cavangh) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [HHD] HE'S COMING... Message-ID: <533@grivel.une.edu.au> Date: 28 Mar 93 06:48:04 GMT Enn Piecy slumped at his table, the first traces of depression trickling into his facial features. None of the considerable number of patrons in the Inn were making use of his considerable skills, none had even acknowledged his presence, being only concerned with themselves and the furthering of their own egoes. Still, it was their loss. Floth, as always, took their inactivity in his stride, never complaining, ever patient. "Why is my talent wasted here?" Enn grumbled. "What talent?" a grizzled dwarf shot back. "So, you need further proof?" croaked Enn, rummaging in a pouch. "Of who do you wish to know?" There was silence for a short time, then a curious voice ventured: "One thing I was wondering: just what DID become of ol' Helios Darkmane?" Scattered murmurings among the more experienced adventurers indicated that they remembered him as well. Enn produced a small image of a sparkling, faceted animal. He spoke. "Gaze into my crystal bull..." -_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_ [posted on behalf of Chris Miller] (Please forgive any inconsistencies from last year's work...it's been a loooong break.) [THE STORY SO FAR (As I remember it): Helios and Darvin are on the road after stealing some horses from the town of Natchkin. The only weapon they have between them is a shortsword. Hayley and Zakronius have fallen into a pitfall, where Hayley's dead sister Hyala "spoke" to them, returning some of her memory. Zakronius' butt is still a bit tender from the fall..] **** The stars glittered in the sky above Helios' makeshift shelter. Darvin lay curled asleep on the bed of woven reeds they had plucked from a nearby creek. Sleep, however, did not come for Helios. Too many thoughts drifted across his mind. His polymorphed form. The loss of his friend and brother in all but the physical sense, Radan Tsran, travelling somewhere in the night. Did the human even think of his once centaur companion ? Even so, Helios could not face him now. Not like this. Travelling in human form, minus the mighty glaive that had been his family's pride for generations, armed with only a rusty shortsword and travelling with an eight year old human boy-thief with the grammatical skills of the proverbial otyugh. "Ah, my friend Radan. How I am in need of your counsel at this time, yet how I am aware that it is out of my reach. You, of all the two-footers I have known during my travels, would I turn to for the answers to my dilemma. But where are you, my brother ? Do you even live at this time ? I am not certain if my own existence could be termed 'living'. Trapped out of my natural body, without the one weapon with which I could defeat Shaman. Look at me, Radan. Am I not a pathetic sight ? Lost in a strange place, in a strange body, unsure of even where I am going. Do I follow the prophecy and try to find the others referred to ? Even so, I have taken this youngster under my wing. Yet how am I to care for him ? I have thus far failed to care for even myself." Darvin moaned a little and rolled over on his mat. Helios took a blanket from one of his saddlebags and laid it over the sleeping boy. Softly now, so as not to wake his small charge, he continued to lament his cause to the hollow, empty night sky. "Sleep, young one, for no matter the path we take, the journey wil be long and difficult. Radan, see me now, in your dreams, in the clouds that pass over your head as you ride with your companions. I have one of your kind here. I am unsure as to how I am to even care for him. I am not of this body, I am centaur. Find me one of mine, and easilly shall I care for the foal. But here i have a human child. Though now I share his race, I know not what I am to do." He turned his face to the sky, his sad eyes seeking a particular constellation... "Mother...you always told me the answers were in the stars. I studied under you, yes, as was my duty as eldest foal, but my heart followed father's ways. If only I had listened...if only... ***** Suddenly sparks spat from the crystal bull, startling many of the Inn patrons. the seeing device crackled and gave a short burst of static. "Whoops!" stammered Enn. "Getting a crossed psychline. happens every once in a while. Sorry folks, but at least the new line is related. This new vision is connected somehow. The bull cleared again. ***** The stars weren't so visible for Zakronius Maestrus Calonar. His magpie familiar had flown off, his blind companion was acting as if posessed. Granted, in a fashion she was, but nonetheless, it was still enough to make a grown man's navel pucker. "Zakronius? What troubles you ?" Hayley's voice found its way to him in the darkness of the underearth. He willed into existence a small flame, a simple cantrip, illuminating her face for his own advantage. He knew the feeble light would be of no use to the girl, blind as she was. Yet somehow she always knew where she was going, where there was a corner in the passage, just where he himself was standing. It was all rather uncanny and Zakronius was still having trouble coming to grips with the situation. "Er..nothing, Hayley, I'm just a little... er.. nauseous... this whole experience has been rather unsettling to yesterday's breakfast." Neither had eaten since that meal. The pitfall had taken them near noon, and now they assumed it was the next day. It was hard to tell, underground. Zakronius sat for a moment, expecting a reply. When none came, he began to get a little bit anxious. He was a druid, after all, not some hairy, ale-swigging dwarf. He belonged in the open air of the forest, not in some tunnel system yonks of feet beneath the surface of the planet. Claustrophobia had been in his family for a long time, and he was no exception to the familial rule. "Hayley ? You still there ?" "Of course, Zakromius, where would I go ?" So calm, so cool. Zakronius couldn't understand it. Here was a girl, by appearance a youing lady thouigh she swears she's 12 years old, blind as a purple worm, deeper underground than any badger would even consider digging, and she sounds like she's enjoying a nice cup of herbal tea. "You're not frightened at all, are you ?I mean, it's okay to be scared sometimes. I'd understand completely if you were nervous or something like that." "Why should I be frightened, Zakronius ? I have you here to protect me. I mean, this is all like some sort of big adventure, and I know you'll take care of me..." Out of the mouth of the (as far as she's concerned) babe. One big adventure, a new game to fritter away the hours, and of course as long as there's a grown up to take care of her nothing bad will really happen. "Oh smeg. How the golly gosh gee whiz do I get myself into these messes..." "Pardon ?" "Nothing, dear. Let's see what we can do about getting out of here and finding that ruddy bird of mine." ***** The bull clouded over again, and Enn sat back with a smug crinkle on his face. "Adventurers" he adressed the crowd "I am at your service". ***** ADMIN: just in case you missed Enn's intro, he is a seer resident in the Inn for all to use to tell about isolated incidents or forthcoming events in a roleplaying way, or for communication with people far away, etc. He is a very stereotyped fortune-teller, and is slightly nuts (evidenced by his consultant Floth, a dead chicken). If you want to see his spectacular intro just e-mail me (scavanag@neumann.une.edu.au) for it. This post has been to show you that my friend Chris miller is still writing and Helios will be returning to regular thread use soon with a new friend and character. Also [T&R] will be back with a vengeance if Christian ever gets off his butt and finishes writing his prequel story. Cav. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hibschmn@room.Princeton.EDU (Johann Allen Hibschman) Subject: [JOI] Quaeros recognizes Elanon and tells tale Message-ID: <1993Mar28.053841.19344@Princeton.EDU> Date: Sun, 28 Mar 1993 05:38:41 GMT Having made his offer, the elf trails off into silence and turns to stare intently at Elanon. His blue eyes widen slightly in recognition. "Elanon! Yes, it IS you. It's been years, years since I've seen you last! Come now, you must remember me, Quaeros, although I must admit that even with your rather distinctive features, I could not place you at first glance. How have you been? What brings you here?" "Quaeros, it truly is good to see you," smiles Elanon bemusedly. "Pardon me if I'm not terribly surprised, but it seems a night for reunions. Some god must smile upon us, but hopefully not yours, friend. How is life in the service of your grim deity?" "Now see here, Elanon," sputtered the elf. "We're not going to get into another one of those discussions. Ronkel is neither grim nor evil, no matter how many contrary arguments you give. Death is a joyous occasion, a return to the divine. Ah, but I will not let myself be distracted, for I am sure you wish to hear what has happened in the intervening years since I saw you last. After you departed, I finally managed to win over enough of the Temple elders to gain official status as a cleric of Ronkel. There was the usual discussion about how "those long-lived pointy-eared aberrations" had no business entering the service of Ronkel, but the obvious favor the god showed me eventually won them over. They finally said that Ronkel had chosen me to serve him in this world by refusing to take me as a child while the plague destroyed my entire village. Dirkas's presence and my subsequent adoption was obviously a sign as well. However, their recognition that I was a legitimate cleric did not mean that they desired my presence, so they told me to go out into the world and spread the faith. To be honest, I had tired of the Temple scene, so I made a show of my obedience and left. I've been wandering the countryside since that day, trying to enlighten the masses." Quaeros lapses into silence and looks downward. After a short pause, he straightens his black tunic, fingers the hilt of the dagger at his side, and turns once more towards Elanon. "An interesting group of companions you are keeping these days, Elanon." He turns to address the rest of the group, saying, "I would be pleased to make the aquaintance of any friends of Elanon. As you have probably gathered by now, I am Quaeros, servant of Ronkel. Hopefully we will have good fortune together." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: [JOI] A new 'face' Message-ID: <1993Mar28.174042.22993@ultb.isc.rit.edu> Date: Sun, 28 Mar 1993 17:40:42 GMT As discussion continues at the table, the door to the inn opens revealing a large figure blocking out the light. He stoops to enter the inn, bringing his cloak around him closer and closing the door gently behind him, walks to an empty table near to the others. He listens to the tale of the 'humble spirit' and seems as if mulling over thoughts none can fathom. What people were around him have stragely moved away by the end of tht tale, and now he sits as an island surronded by nothing but the 4 gathered a the other table. He rises, and after a moments hesitation, approaches the table around which the rest of the adventures are listening to the new arrival. "Pray excuse the interuption," the voice is deep and there is a glint from beneath the large brimmed hat he wares," but I could not help over hearing thy...'Quest'. I would fane join you on such a venture if thou need'st a strong arm." This is followed by a gracious half bow, only half because of his considerable size. Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader Date: Wednesday, 24 Mar 1993 16:40:11 EST From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93083.164011344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [Ga] Hawksholme... References: Brent looked around with surprise showing on his face, despite his attempt to hide it. One second he had been standing in a forest, about to make some comment to Zebron, and the next he was standing in a cave, with Garriot in what seemed a spell field. And the apparent source of both magics was the hermit named Jaru that stood before them. Added to that was the fact that Mathew and his horse Judge were nowhere around. A mix of emotions from anger to concern infiltrated Brent for their quondam companion. Wherever he was, Brent hoped that Mathew had benefitted from their encounter. And even after trying to put any emotion behind him, there was a small part of hope in Brent that he had just overreacted; that Mathew wasn't far off after all... >>Turning back to Garriot, [Jaru] gazed down at the entranced warrior with an >>expression of mingled sadness and fondness on his face. "Old friend," he >>murmured, almost to himself, "Have you forgotten so much? And when you >>remember, will you thank me for it?" Almost casually, he muttered a few >>words of magick over the prone form, and the aura glowed a bit brighter. >>With that he turned back to the rest of the group. 'So,' Brent thought to himself, 'We finally reach the place Garriot wanted to go. Hopefully we'll find some answers about him and his enemy...' >>"I suggest that we discuss this outside. The sun is bright, the day is warm, >>and this dank cave chills my old bones. Besides, the Spell of Restoration >>will take some time yet to complete..." >"Let's go then," [Zebron] said, waving his companions forward, hoping that >Brent was able to notice the delicate patterns his fingers waved in the air: a >set of signals in the silent code of thieves that would put Brent on his guard >and expect a trap. Zebron needn't have bothered. Even if he basically thought anyone who could transport them here easily could trap them as well, Brent liked to think that he was always on guard for trouble. Especially after the teleport. Brent didn't like being out of the know. He prided himself partially on his information gathering, which had been another reason besides helping out that he had joined the quest. And he promised himself the answers would come soon enough, even if he had to ask for them directly. ============================================================================= Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader Date: Tuesday, 23 Mar 1993 12:05:24 EST From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93082.120525344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] Rough Introductions [ADMIN: Large thanks go to Joe Carl Jr. and The Dreamer for their input into this post...] Lancos stood up, and vertigo came all at once, and with such intensity that he felt like lying back down. But he steadied himself, and the spinning room slowed down. His eyes adjusted to the bright morning light until the sharp piercing pain in his eyes wasn't so irritating. He finally looked around with competency, and noticed that he was alone. However, there was a note on the table, which Lancos picked up and read as such: Friend, I have other business to attend to, so I cannot be here now. And being an adventurer, I doubt you'll stay here and wait for me anyways. Although this is not my primary abode, it is a place where you may reach me, besides the Dragon's Inn that is. One final word before we separate. I have read the path of your fate (I can just see your eyes rolling into your read while reading this). Your path will lead you back to the location of your first encounter in your previous quest. Before, you may have gone there on a whim or in wandering, but perhaps you will go there now to satisfy your curiousity about my abilities. Nevertheless, history will repeat itself in a sense. I wish you luck... Enn. Lancos couldn't help but grin -- and almost laugh -- at this. Enn was right, of course; there would be a part of him that couldn't rest peacefully if he didn't do this immediately. He had gone through the Dragon Quest thinking it was _his_ choice to do so -- to come to Generica. Apparently the truth was it had been 'Raelf Elder or the PCD or whatever, that had "chosen" him. So why not let pre-destiny determine what was to come this time also? He stepped out of the shack, and started for the Dragon's Inn, before correcting himself. The note said "first _encounter_", meaning his tete-a-tete with Krastin, not _too_ far from the Scrappy Ram. So he wound his way through the Low City, through the virtual maze of streets. It wasn't hard to feel nervous upon entering some of the emptier locales. To feel the danger of a surprise attack, or the despair of getting lost, or an increased menace from the shadows. But Lancos consigned himself against these thoughts. Even with alcohol still in his blood, he felt competent for any battle that might appear, as any fighter must. And he had a photographic familiarity with the town and a ranger-esque -- even _he_ had to admit that -- way of tracking his location. Then, as he passed a collection of garbage cans at the entrance of a dead-end alley, he heard a soft muffled sound, coming from an area that was otherwise silent. It was a sound not worth getting worried about, but still curiousity got the better of him, and he moved in to investigate. After a few seconds, he determined that the sound was coming from _underneath_ an overturned container. He carefully lifted one end, and a small cat exited, and showed its "appreciation" by hissing condiscendingly as if it was saying "It's about time you let me out". It had several scars on its skinny yellow-furred body, and had apparently become unwillingly tailless, which was no doubt also why it disliked people. Lancos took pity upon it, and took out a bit of food and poured some water into a bowl he found nearby. When the cat looked way of it, Lancos backed away until it had a chance to investigate the food. Either it trusted Lancos or else hunger got the better of it, for it soon supped upon the offerinf. Lancos sat in a crouch and watched the cat eat, enjoying his good deed. After the meal, the cat had a changed attitude towards the warrior, coming nearer and purring slightly. Lancos petted it -- her; he corrected himself. The cat reacted to the touch positively. He then stood and began to move on, and the cat followed at a respectful distance. The warrior walked briskly for a bit, but still the cat followed. Lancos knew he wouldn't get rid of it easily, and consigned himself to its presence. Heh -- an animal companion. Now people would _really_ think him a ranger. 'So be it!' he decided, finally realizing the connection himself. As a final approval, he decided to name her Bast. A smile crossed his face as he thought of recent events -- 'Raelf "revealing" himself to be a cat-man, Arienne's purr-like speech, and now this; it was amusing how these things connected to his life in such an obvious manner. He arrived at the area of Krastin's attack after what seemed a short period of time. Of course, that was the thing in Generica, the timestream was awkward. And the period in Ak'Irneg didn't help matters. How long had it been in Generica's time since he'd last been here: a month? About three- fourths of a year? Past the end of the world itself? The are was deserted, as it had been the last time, and a slight breeze blew through it like before. Lancos' mind drifted in remembrance; the paralled was unrefutable. It was almost as if Lancos could see the blood that had stained the streets after the battle. Could sense the footsteps of someone nearby. Could hear the scream Krastin had emitted. His focus snapped back to the present -- he _had_ heard a scream. From a young girl, and from a distance not far from his own, if his ears hadn't deceived him. He ran towards the sound, always willing to help the damsel in distress like the "hero" he was. * * * * >The Gutt Man rolled over and grabbed his leg. Blood trickled down his face >in a steady stream from a cut above his left eye. When he caught sight of >Little Rat, he forgot the chase, the pain in his leg, and everything else. >For months, he had been searching the Low City for this child and now he >had found her. The board Little Rat used had flown from her hand when she had whacked the Gutt Man on the shins, and she now stood face to face with every child's nightmare. Lissa had stopped at the sound of the board smacking into the Gutt Man's knees, and stood transfixed as he got up. His knife shined brightly, even in the shadowy alleyway. Gutt Man got up on one knee. The blood encrusted knife rolled back and forth in his hand as he flipped it from edge up to edge down and back again. The flicker of light as it played off its edge was hypnotic. Gutt Man softly moaned an insane laugh, his eyes wide with joy. Here was the little brat he had hated more than all the others. His nostrils flared with excitement. "Run fo' you life!" Little Rat screamed, and both she and Lissa took off running as quickly as their little feet would take them. Gutt Man launched himself into a sprint after the two of them. He threw his head back and cackled an insane joyous laugh as he pursued, gaining with each step. Lissa was in the lead and didn't know where she was running. She was just going anywhere as fast as she could go. She didn't hear the little girl that had saved her screaming directions behind her. "Not dat way, it's a dead end". Little Rat had followed the older girl, thinking she knew a better route and only realized otherwise when it was too late. As Lissa and Little Rat turned to run out of the alley, Gutt Man slid into the alley opening. His arms opened wide as if expecting an embrace. Little Rat screamed her desperation, looking for something to fight with. Lissa shrank back up against the wall of the alley, cowering in fear. * * * * Both Lancos and Darovs heard this second scream but from different places, and each had a similar reaction to it. Both knew it was a different voice, with Lancos feeling a tinge of familiarity about it. Both ran faster towards it, Darvos worried that Lissa might be too hurt to do the screaming _this_ time. * * * * Little Rat scanned quickly around the alley, looking for an escape rout, or something to hold the Gutt Man off with. And she found temporary salvation in the form of a wooden board. Or though she had, until the Gutt Man laughed. "Heh heh heh. Silly girl, you don't have that smelly troll Trawm to protect you, or that elf and his whore. And I know my knife beats your stick any time. Prepare for pain, child!" he said with a look of love on his face. Gutt Man was really enjoying this; his prey fighting back only added to the pleasure he got when he was proven superior by killing it. But The Little Rat hung tough through the words. She wasn't the type to give up, and if she were to die, she would do so fighting. She shook off her fear, regardless of Gutt Man's wicked smile, of his shadow filling the area behind him... 'Wait a sec' a back part of her mind realized, 'da sun's behind 'im, how's his shadow in back?' Something in the way Little Rat looked around him told Gutt Man there was someone behind him. Gutt Man spun to face the foe with sheer anger in his eyes. "They need to die, I must relieve them of their suffering" he charged in swinging wildly with his knife. He had closed the distance so fast that his foe couldn't use his scimitar properly and was dodging left and right to avoid the knife sweeps. Little Rat reacted to the opportunity, striking Gutt Man in the back of the head with the board she'd picked up. He paused in surprise, and she struck him again, sapping him to the ground. As he collasped to the ground, her fear kept her from realizing he wasn't moving anymore, and she hit him again, and again, and again, and .... Lancos was impressed with the display. But when he saw who it was, and that she hadn't recovered, he interposed himself and gently grabbed her, softly saying, "It's all right now... Everything's all right." The Little Rat screamed again at the touch of hands on her, half-convinced that the Gutt Man had risen despite her work. Then she looked at the man with a glimmer of recognition. "Yeah... , you know me. Lancos, remember? I was searching for that dragon..." he paused, realizing the girl would have no idea what sort of creature that was, "... er, lizard thing." And the Little Rat _did_ remember. The man even had a very minor part in her tale. She knew he was a friend of the Elfman, and knew she was no longer in danger. A small smile crossed her face as she said, "Thanx, mister knight." And for once, Lancos made no effort to discourage such a title. * * * * Darvos was near frantic by now, when he reached the area. He peered into the alley, still hearing the screams in his mind, seeing only a figure poised over a little girl. He yelled, "Get off of her!", his accent missing in the excitement, and cast a minor defensive spell on the child, pushing the man away. Being off-balance in the first place, it caused him to be pushed to the groun and away from the child. He readied an offensive spell that would cripple a normal man. "No, it's okay. He save me." The Little Rat announced, motioning towards Lancos, and to the prone figure of the Gutt Man. Darvos was overswept with emotions. Surprise, in finding the girl's face was unfamiliar. Wonder, at where Lissa was. Shock, at seeing the third -- bloodied -- figure on the ground for the first time. Guilt, at seeing who he'd almost cast his spell against. "Lancos?!? I'm very sorry, friend. Are you all right?". His accent was back; he rolled the r's in his particular way. "Yeah, I'm fine." Lancos said, getting to his feet again. Actually, he was a bit sore, and possibly bleeding in one spot, but in a weird sense it felt good. If he had been wearing his medallion, he might not have been affected, but it was _good_ to be without it, to remember life's hardships without its "promise" of safety. Yeah, saftey, and all he had to do was get rid of his morals and concern for others. "I'm more worried about her, and maybe him." "Is he dead?" "No, but he won't regain consciousness for a while. I'm just wondering what to do with him." "I want him alive." Darvos said in an authoritative tone. "In case he knows anything about Lissa." "All right, we can take him to the Keep or something." Lancos conceded. "And who's Lissa?" "A little girl under my care, a native of Low City. I think she came down here with some food, for what purpose I'm unsure of." At that moment Lissa came running out of the shadows, "Darvos, here I am" she said, trying to act bravely as she had seen Little Rat do. "You should have seen her, she saved my life. He came at me and was gonna kill me and she whacked him with a board and then he chased both of us and then we were trapped and she hit him again and then he was down." She looked at Little Rat with admiration. "Thank you, you're a hero." she said. Little Rat smiled at the praise, but didn't know what to say, having generally only received insults from people before. "Um, yes, thank you very much, miss." Darvos said. "Oh, yeah, you need introductions, how foolish of me.". Lancos slapped his head softly, expressing the felling of stupidity. "Darvos, this is the Little Rat, a tough and wise person even beyond the Low City standard. And Little Rat, this is Darvos, a wizard of some worth, as I found out the hard way..." The Little Rat felt pride in the way Lancos had described her, and in that she hd met a knight and a wizard in the same day. The only bad thing about the day lie at her feet. "So whats we do with da Gutt Man?" she asked. "Ummm..." Darvos pondered, still unsure what kind of name 'Little Rat' was. "We take him to jail, like Lancos said." Darovs didn't want to kill Gutt Man in front of this child, and wanted Gutt Man to suffer for even the threat of killing his precious Lissa. "All of us." Lancos added. "You've got to help put him away, and you're important in other ways, also." Darvos nodded agreement. He cast a spell on the Gutt Man to insure he wouldn't unexpectedly wake up, and the four began to carry him to the Keep. =========================================================================== Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu AKA Lancos Erredan MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Preparations for the journey... Message-ID: <1993Mar28.140207.4858@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 28 Mar 93 14:02:07 -0500 Quaeros joined the little company at the table as they prepared to plan for their adventure. While the group had no clear goal yet, it was obvious that several preparations had to be made. Aleric looked around the table at his companions and surveyed their equipment. As Kyar had already stated he had little to his name after his ordeal, Aleric began to consider supplies for the group during their sojourn. Horses or other mounts would be needed if they were to travel any great distance, and certainly rations and camping equipment. /Blankets, rations, a pot or two, rope...maybe,/ Aleric mused. As he mentally compiled a list to outfit the group the others continued their idle discussions and catching up on old friendships. Ildamar ordered another fruit juice from the barkeep and said, "So, Elanon, what have you been up to for the last few years?" Elanon took a long pull at his ale before launching into a story of his exploits in the city during his time there. He leaned back in his chair propped one boot on the table while he regaled the group. The fading light of day caught the red of his hair and turned it to the burnished color of copper. Aleric got up from the table quietly and made his way to the barkeep. He quietly asked about the best places to purchase equipment and horses. Before making his way back to the table he checked his supply of shekels. He didn't expect to be making any outrageous purchases so he should have enough. Aleric had pulled in all his credits and favors from people before leaving his home to adventure so he had a goodly amount for the moment. He returned to the table and stood behind his chair rather than sitting. Aleric apologized to Elanon for interrupting him and said, "Seeing as we are all here, I'm going to go and do a little shopping for our trip. We need supplies and I figure to get them now so we can leave tomorrow." He glanced around the table and his gaze rested on Kyar. He should know his way around well enough. "Kyar, if you would join me and help me find the appropriate merchants... It should only take a couple hours at the most." Aleric made a few final inquiries to the adventurers about their needs before nodding and leaving the inn with Kyar in tow. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Heather Sexauer (Yes, go ahead and make your own jokes about my name.) hsexauer.vax.cns.muskingum.edu MagicHutchHeader From: jmondak@vax.cns.muskingum.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] A good tale Message-ID: <1993Mar28.144402.4859@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 28 Mar 93 14:44:02 -0500 "Excuse me large one but watch where you are bowing!" chirps the ruffled Alarond. "I apologize for scaring you little one, but sometimes it can be difficult to move myself gracefully without stomping on _someone's_ toes a little. I hope that you can forgive me just this once." "Well, since you obviously meant no harm... well I'll overlook it this time!" And with Alarond trying to hold back a large grin, the great company once again is seated. "Well large one, funny thing to call a person indeed, what is your name and why are you are here? I am curious as to why someone of your great size and obvious strength needs to join a group like ours just to go on a quest! Anyway, while Aleric and Kyar are gathering supplies, we have time for another tale. I do so love a good tale!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jackie Mondak | Muskingum College | "What a long, strange trip it's been." | | -the Dead MagicHutchHeader From: jclifford@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (jen/cliffy :)) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Two sluts enter a bar... Message-ID: <1993Mar28.185147.4860@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 28 Mar 93 18:51:47 -0500 A lean figure, cloaked in grey, entered the inn and looked around the room. Life in a taproom the same worldwide. She sighed. Laurenth walked up to the bar and ordered wine. Her companion, a short, slightly built female, bounced up to the bar and demanded a dark ale. Many unidentifiable pouches hung about her person. Laurenth and Darkin took their drinks to the door and watched the last fading moments of the sunset. In doing so, the companions heard a conversation at a table nearby--talk of a quest. Immediately, Darkin's interest was aroused. She strode over to the table and inquired of the grinning red-headed man... "So...I was eavesdropping on your plans of an incredible adventure-- I decided you need me in your troupe." Grinning rakishly, she defied anyone to contradict her statement. Laurenth shook her head--not _again_--and faded back farther in the shadows to see exactly what Darkin was getting herself into. And how much help she'd need getting out. "Um, exactly who do you think you are and why are you interested in joining our quest?" Taredain asked indignantly. He looked at her askance, wondering what this short dark-haired waif wanted. The others around the table stared in surprise and disbelief that anyone would have the gall to demand inclusion. "Well, I am called Darkin. My companion is Laurenth, the one back there trying unsuccessfully to become part of the wall. I have, oh, some interesting abilities to contribute." The lady in grey did fade in the shadows quite well--one might think she had help. Regretfully, she decided to leave the sanctuary of the darkness to approach the group. "What do you think you posess that would aid us?" Taredain asked with narrowed eyes. Darkin opened her mouth to speak, and Laurenth quickly covered her mouth to prevent her from blithly telling all their secrets. "I am Laurenth, as you know, and if you will allow us, we do have many talents that could be useful to a group such as yours." The quiet demeanor of the woman, surety of her speech, and influence over Darkin intrigued the company. "We can tell you more of us in a less public place." jen/cliffy :) "There's someone in my head, but it's not me..." -AND- --Pink Floyd }Z{ "Goldfish don't like Jell-o." --the wisdom of age 5 JCLIFFORD@VAX.CNS.MUSKINGUM.EDU MagicHutchHeader From: caz@owlnet.rice.edu (HWRNMNBSOL) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Throcken's Coarse Jest Message-ID: Date: 29 Mar 93 04:18:11 GMT Throcken opens the door to the Dragon's Inn. His jaw drops, injuring several innocent bystanders. The Dragon's Inn.......gone Upscale??? The interior is well lit. The walls are lined with polished mirrors; plants hang from the lacquered oaken beams. Tables -- neat, delicate affairs made of cane and cherrywood, not the regular trestle variety -- are arrayed in eye-catching patterns on little terraces. On top of each is a folded menu lettered in elegant calligraphy. The clientele doesn't seem to have changed -- there's Norm, apparently chowing down on some kind of salad buffet (??!!) -- but the personnel sure are dressed differently. Littlefair is decked out in a neat little tuxedo, the spray of a wine-colored handkerchief showing in his breast pocket. The serving maids and barman are similarly formally attired, although without jackets. Even the Short Ogre Cook, his ugly head visible above the counter, is wearing a foot-high chef's hat as he works at his griddle. Throcken shifts uneasily from foot to foot. All he wanted was a bunch of beer, not a plate of canopies or whatever the hell those little things are called. And if somebody tries to serve him fish goop he'll puke. Littlefair notices him at the door and approaches. "LITTULFAIR! DOOD! WHAT HAPPEND? DA JOINT LOOKS LIKE DA ELVES MOOVED IN!" he bellows softly. Several patrons frown for a moment before returning to their gaspacho. Throcken frowns back, his brow calling for reinforcements from the back of his head. Littlefair smiles gently. "Well, Throcken, we thought we'd try to appeal to a different class of customer. You know, property values rising and all...." Throcken's eyes cross -- his standard expression of contempt and disbelief. "HUHN? DUZZAT MEAN NO MORE BEER BASHES? NO MORE WIZARD TICKLING? NO MORE DWARF TOSSING??" He looks longingly at a nearby company of dwarves, who bare sharp incisors and growl softly under their beards. Littlefair smiles again, although the edges are looking a little frayed. "I understand your worries, Throcken, but believe me -- you're the only patron who has complained so far. Look, why don't you just sit down and try the new menu? We've got some lovely delicate amber wine....." "GURG....." "......and I just know you'll love our special today: Vascondian roe!" "ROW?" "Fish eggs." "BLEE-OOOOO !!!!" Throcken can't take it any more. He storms over to the far wall of the Inn. "YOO! IN DA BOOTH! BEET IT, YA SHADOWY, HOODED TYPE! I DON'T CARE IF YOO WUZ HEER FIRST!" The table is quickly vacated: all know that violence is proscribed in the Inn, but Throcken sprays spittle when he shouts. The half-ogre seizes the edge of the table, drags it out into the room, and stands on top of it. Its delicacy must hide great strength, for it merely creaks loudly and supports the huge armorer's weight. "OKAY, YOO DWEEBS! DIS IS NOT A PANSY POOFTER BAR, IT'S A BAR FOR BEIN' LOUD AN' DRINKIN' AN' BEIN' LOUD AN' STUFF! SO, IF YOOZE ALL DON'T LIKE IT, YOOZE CAN STICK IT! OKAY: NOW I'M GONNA TELL A RILLY ROTTEN JOKE, AN' YER ALL GONNA STOMP YER FEET AN' HOOT, OR BOO RILLY LOUD, OR SUMPFIN!! OKAY? OKAY: "SO, DERE WUZ DIS REPORTER FER DA GENERICAN EXAMINER, RIGHT? AN' HE'S IN DIS BAR, AN' HE SPOTS DIS TABLE. AN' SITTIN' AT DIS TABLE IS FOUR PEOPLES: A VASCONDIAN, A RAMESHANDER, A DROTSHAVAN, AND A GENERICAN. DA REPORTER GOES UP TO DEM AN' ASKS: 'SCUZE ME, BUT WOOLD YOOZE GENTS CARE TO COMMENT ON DA UPRISIN' CUNSERNING DA RECENT FOOD SHORTAGES? "DA VASCONDIAN SMILES A LOT AN' SEZ: IN VASCONDY, WE DON'T KNOW DA MEANIN' OF DA WORD 'SHORTAGE'. "DA RAMESHANDER SNEERS RILLY EVIL-LIKE AN' SEZ: IN RAMESHAND, WE DON'T KNOW DA MEANIN' OF DA WORD 'UPRISIN''. "DA DROTSHAVAN LOOKS RILLY SAD AN' SEZ: IN DROTSHAVA, WE DON'T KNOW DA MEANIN' OF DA WORD 'FOOD'. "DA GENERICAN SCRATCHES HIS HEAD, AN' FINALLY SEZ: "IN GENERICA, WE DON'T KNOW DA MEANIN' OF DA WORD "'SCUZE ME"! "HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW !!" The crowd is silent for a few moments. Then, as if on cue, they break into a round of polite, restrained applause. "NOOOOOOOOOOOO........." howls Throcken. He flees the Inn with the greatest dispatch, wreaking death and destruction on the unfortunate front door for probably the umpty-quintillionth time. ****************************************************************************** For a moment, all is silent in the Inn. A hundred pairs of eyes peer at the front door, which slammed shut behind the distraught half-ogre. Then, amidst a slowly growing wave of laughter, things begin to change. The mirrors melt off the walls like ice in the sunlight. The plants drip green liquid onto the floor, which evaporates and disappears within moments. The lacquered wood beams regain their dull, sooty finish, and the delicate furnishings writhe and contort themselves into their regular, sturdy shapes. Norm breathes a sigh of relief as his salad plate turns into a roast haunch. The Short Ogre Cook throws his silly hat on the ground and spits, "Faugh!"; it melts into dust before his eyes. Littlefair watches his black suit drip from his sides, revealing his ordinary, drab jerkin; the hanky seems to have reformed itself into a stained washcloth. Chromos finishes the ten-and-one-halfth pass and extinguishes his ebony candle. "'Drotshavan', indeed," he harrumphs inside his immaculate mustachios, as the last traces of illusory hauteur drain from the Inn with a soft, gurgling noise. Listener hops down from his customary perch and affixes Littlefair with a quizzical, bemused eye. "'Rising property values'?" Littlefair glares. "'Today's special: Vascondian Roe'?" The elf begins to giggle. Littlefair throws his washcloth to the ground in mock irritation. "All right, wise guy," he growls, the spark of humor in his eye, ".....next time YOU shut him up." -- HWRNMNBSOL MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Taredain answers the sprite Date: 29 Mar 1993 05:16:23 GMT Message-ID: <1p60n7$ghe@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> "I would not be able to tell you where I am from. A friend of mine is trying to kill me and has chased me through many worlds." Taredain looked darkly at Quaeros. "I believe the word cleric describes me as well. We shall have to have a talk sometime to see if our gods are the same. In the world I come from, his name is Cyric." Life is a Swamp, and above the Swamp, there is Fog. MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [NERC] Things are getting worse Date: 29 Mar 1993 06:15:04 GMT Message-ID: <1p6458$5ch@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> A dark man chuckled in a corner in Low City. The mutilated body of a young girl laid before him. Blood pooled at his feet, mingling with the remains of others he has killed. The images of each murder jumbled through his mind, feeding a perverse hunger. A dark mist formed between him and the girl. He screamed as it reached out to him, melting his flesh into whisps of shadow. Not many heard. "Damn fool." A thug quickly removed the purse and rings of an adventurer that tried to fight back. Things were usually much better if they didn't die on him. A bony hand on his shoulder interrupted his thoughts. He turned nd his knife slid easily between the ribs of a skeleton. Moments later the skeleton walked back to the sewers carrying two corpses. A pool of wraithes hovered outside the northern wall of generica talking amoungst themselves. One spoke above all others. {...it does not matter...what source our...servants come from... ...there is more life here...than there... ...go and gather more...} And the dark pools melted into the forest. Shawn, a half-elven lowlife crawled his way towards the light in the sewer junction up ahead. The smell ahead was worse than any other part of the sewers, but he heard voices ahead and the sound of coins. As he approached the junction, a mound of steaming flesh cam into view. A human arm hung odly just below the boken jaw of a T-croc. Something large and furry covered the top of the pile. Shawn had never seen a bear, but that is what he guessed it was. They were all dead. As were the things adding other corpses to the pile. A dark-red robed man stood behind the mound. A gesture from him and the mound began to move, decaying while strugling to stand. The man turned to face and smiled. Shawn recoiled in fear as his attention focused on the man's fangs, but found that he could not run. "Come here," the man said, extending his hand. Shawn stood and reached out his hand. His mind trembled and tried furiously to make his legs flee, but his body would not respond. As their hands touched, a feeling of power surged up Shawn's arm. His skin melted away to shadow as did his thoughts. {...you become...one... ...of us...} The sound echoed over and over, becoming more and more appealing. Darkness closed in on Shawn and he reveled in the primal sensations that now made up his existance. the man thought at him and at once Shawn felt the hunger and need to serve. {...yes...master...} MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hibschmn@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Johann Allen Hibschman) Subject: [JOI] Are we missing anything? Message-ID: <1993Mar29.044139.1916@Princeton.EDU> Date: Mon, 29 Mar 1993 04:41:39 GMT As a few more people join the little company gathered about Elanon, Quaeros glances about quizically. He examines the faces of those arrayed around the table, pondering each in turn. Finally, he turns to address the others. "I must admit that we form an impressive-appearing force. However, I'm loath to embark on any project without having a feel for what resources I will have to bring to it. I've heard the tale of Alarond and can easily imagine the usefulness of a shapeshifter in all manner of situations. I have heard some mention of the fighting prowess of Aleric and Kyar. I must admit that I have little idea of what skills Taredain or Ildamar may bring to the group. Of Laureth and Darkin I know only that they claim to be talented in something. For those of you who have just arrived, my name is Quaeros, and I am a cleric of Ronkel. However, don't expect me to be like those accursed clerics at the Temple of Ilmater in this city who would heal every injury and disease in the entire world if they could. Can the fools not see that death is the balance to life, that the old and weak must die to make room for new life? Pardon my digression, but irresponsible healing is one of my pet peeves. Ronkel is a god of death, and as a servant of Him, do not expect me to patch your every little scratch. 'So what is this cleric good for, then?' you ask. I know much lore, can survive fairly well in a wilderness, and am skilled with my daggers. But I am becoming far to serious." Quaeros reaches into a pouch at his side and pulls out four brightly colored balls, which he then begins to juggle. "I don't people to think that I'm one of these gloom and doom types. Far from it! I sing! I dance! Well, not really, but I do juggle and know a few minor tricks of sleight-of-hand. Somehow I always tend to lapse into Mr. Serious Cleric Type when discussing religion, but I try to resist. Just don't argue philosophy with me, or I'll drone on for hours. Ask Elanon, he knows all to well what I mean. So just think of me as the friendly neighborhood death cleric. Ahh, but I've rambled on too long, much longer than anything I need from any of you. I just wanted to make sure we did in fact have someone with a clue about the wilderness or who was at least moderately stealthy, since I tend to be rather poor at both. I can cook, though. Did I mention that before? Not that my last group of companions would ever let me near the cooking pot. They'd always gripe something like 'Are you outta your mind? There's no way I'm gonna let a DEATH cleric make dinner.' Sheesh. And they never let me be on watch by myself. But we're all friends here, so I'm SURE you'd never even DREAM of persecuting a poor little elf for his religion, right?" With this, Quaeros finally shuts up and sits down, to the great relief of all. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Johann Hibschman | My brain hurts! Sorry! Shut up! hibschmn@phoenix.princeton.edu | Sorry! My brain hurts! Shut up! --------------------------------------------------------------------- MagicHutchHeader From: jclifford@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (jen/cliffy :)) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Moving along... Message-ID: <1993Mar29.112054.4863@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 29 Mar 93 11:20:53 -0500 After Quaeros' speech, Laurenth surveys the company. She is still covering Darkin's mouth, for fear she would interrupt and put her foot in her mouth, as is her usual. "I beg your leave to retire for the night--I assume we leave at dawn?" she asked the question of the group, looking for an objection. There being none voiced, she led Darkin outside and stabled their horses, then went to bed. Let's get this show on the road!!!! :) jen/cliffy :) "It's a terrible thing, one of the great tragedies of life, to be dropped on your head." --_Agnes of God_ MagicHutchHeader From: z_sponheimjc@ccsvax.sfasu.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: The Beginning of the End? Message-ID: <1993Mar29.110311.3702@ccsvax.sfasu.edu> Date: 29 Mar 93 11:03:11 CST The Begining of the End As the sun set in Hapsmouth a man came walking down the road toward the pub called the Griffon's Claw. He was a tall man. Clad only in black wit no apparent weapons. He walked with an sense of mystique that seemed to seap into every person that gazed at him. He approached the pub and opened the swinging doors. He entered slowly and stopped to look around and take in his surroundings. He saw a small table in a dark nook that looked appropraite to himself. He headed in the direction to sit down. The pub was empty because most people were still in the fields of Hapsmouth. The men that were present made sure to steer away from the man in black. As he sat down, a barmaid came over to take his order. "What would be your pleasure?" she asked with an innocent voice. The man in black replied, "Give me your best ale." he said with a strong yet stern voice. She left to go get his ale when he started to take off his heavy cloak. People stared at him as they saw an ornate two-handed sword under the cloak which was never their before. Under the cloak he was wearing a dark red shirt that looked as it had seen many years of action and many more years of repair. The barmaid quickly came back with his ale and asked him a question, "You're not from these parts are you?" He replied, "No, I'm not." in a cold, soft voice. Again she inquired about the man, "What is your name?" He said, "My name is Tarel Kray. Is that all?" She quickly walked away as being insulted, even forgetting to collect the money he owed her. He drank down his ale and put his cloak back on when a two men came in the pub. They looked like they were rich men due to the ornate clothing they were wearing. Instantly Tarel got up and walked over to the two men. He asked them a question, "I heard that you two were having a problem with a Wizard?" They looked puzzled but answered, "Yes." Tarel replied, "I will eliminate this Wizard for a 'small fee.'" They said "Who are you and how did you know this?" Tarel saying very cooly, "I know everthing and I am Tarel Kray, mercenary for hire." he bowed. They said, "Well if you can bring us they head of the Wizard then we will glady pay your fee." Tarel said, "Good." and started out the door before they could say another word. In a small laboratory, the wizard sat besides a pool of mercury and smiled. "So, they have recruited the great Tarel Kray to kill me. This will me most interesting. I will have to prepare for him. If he is as good as I think he is, my plans will be complete. Come! Come! My 'pets' await." At midnight Tarel reached the wizard's tower. It was a small tower. About seventy to a hundred feet tall. The only way to get in was by a small door in the front of the tower. Tarel stopped and thought 'this is too easy?" MagicHutchHeader From: z_sponheimjc@ccsvax.sfasu.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: {Begin of End} cont Message-ID: <1993Mar29.115758.3706@ccsvax.sfasu.edu> Date: 29 Mar 93 11:57:58 CST Tarel stood there for a second thinking that it would be to easy to use the front door. He then looked at the rest of the tower, the only windows were about fourty feet high. He said to himself that that window looks good. He then closed his eyes and thought to himself. He started to glow with a dull brilliance. His body then became incoherent to the rest of the darkness. The small cloud which used to be Tarel floated up into the window. Moments later on the floor of the window room Tarel appeared where the cloud used to be. He stood up and looked around. This room was bedroom of some sort. It was ornatly decorated from head to toe. The usual bed, drawers, and chest were in the room. He opened the chest and saw a set of robes (obviously for a wizard of some sort). He decided to leave everything behind and strike forward on his errand of murder. He opened the door in the back of the room and saw a small corridor that went both ways. He stepped out and went left, for it went to a set of stairs. As he climbed the stairs, his keen ears felt footsteps approaching from above. He thought cooly for a moment and silently went back to the bedroom. He peaked through the door to find out who it was coming down the round stairs. He waited and waited but noone came down the hallway. He then came out and went back to the stairs. His ears again picked up the faint noise of footsteps on the stairs. Confused, he closed his eyes and murmured a few words to himself. "Nystul, Jakowait, Tiltowait..." Immediately he knew that the sounds were a planned illusion to someone coming up the stairs. This wizard was clever, but he will soon be dead. He climbed the stairs quickly but with absolutely no sound. He came to another corridor that branched off from the stairs. He decided to go up again. He got to the next level and saw a shadow of someone moving toward him. He then pressed himself against the wall to avoid detection in the shadows. A cold strong hand then grabbed his neck and picked him up off the ground! He struggled for a moment but it was futile because whatever had him by the neck was far to strong. He then concentrated and kicked whatever it was in the stomach area with his right leg. He immediately fell to the ground and started rolling down the stairs. He rolled down to the next level and got up groggy. The thing came down after him. Tarel looked up and saw only a shadow! He then realized what he wa dealing with! This Wizard was not a wizard at all, he was a Necromancer! Quickly, he drew his two-handedsword from its hidden scabbard. He was standing on a platform that extended into the hallway and the shadow was just coming down the stairs still soft for the powerful blow to the midsection. As soon as it reached the platform Tarel came forward. He came with a quick swing to the lower area of the shadow. Much to Tarel's suprise, the sword went right through it! The shadow then came around with a right claw to the head of Tarel. It ripped part of the hood he was wearing along with causing a deep gash along his right eye. Tarel confused and reeling from the glancing blow decided this one would not be won by steal as he would have hoped. He dropped his sword and held up both hands to the shadow and spoke, "Shimak!" Blue flames shot out of his hands and struck the shadow square in the chest. Tarel stood up but continues his unrelenting magical attack on the monster. Within seconds it was pinned against the stairs being incinerated by Tarel. Soon it was over. Tarel then feel to the ground exhausted. He sat on the ground for about half a minute catching his breath. That expense of flame took a lot out of him. He picked up his sword and felt that his the gash along his eye was bleeding profusly. He pulled out a small elixer from his cloak pocket and drank it. Within seconds, the gash closed by itself and looked good as new! He moved up the stairs a little bit more carefully this time. He had gootten careless. He had underestimated his enemy. It would not happen again. He climebed all the way to the top of the tower and enterd the hallway. It was a long hallway! It was physically impossible to be that long knowing how big the outside was. Then he figured that he must be in some extra-dimensional space in the tower. He walked slowly down the hallway and came upon a door with bars on the window of it. Tarel looked inside. He saw a man chained to the opposite wall. The man looked up and said in a slow weak voice, "Help.. me, Deth captured me... Let me go !! Tarel looked at the locked door and it suddenly opened. He looked at the man on the wall and said, "Die changling!" He hoisted the sword over his head and hacked of its head. Then it changed into this hideous beast that was called the Changeling! Tarel palyed this one correctly. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac169@Freenet.carleton.ca (Darryl Farr) Subject: [JOI] Ildamar sez Hi! Message-ID: <1993Mar29.230133.29441@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Mon, 29 Mar 1993 23:01:33 GMT Ildamar looks around at the gathered adventurers with a measuring gaze. <> "My story," he says, "My story is not a long one, though it has surely been long in the living. I search for others like me. I am of an ancient and not well-known race. Many years ago, there was a war in our homeland, and many of us were taken as slaves, or prisoners. The war is over now, and I travel wherever my travels take me, always searching. With regards to your inquiry, friend Quaeros, I am well versed in the ways of the wild, and move with much stealth when circumstances so dictate. I am also skilled with a blade, though I try to avoid its use when possible. I will not kill another, save if my life, or the lives of my companions are in serious danger, and it still pains me greatly to do so. Friend Alarond. It may hearten you to hear that my people, too are not unskilled in the ways of form-shifting, and I find my skills in that area to be of great use at times. For the most part, I seek to prevent the actions of evil where it may lie, and return those of my kind whom I meet to our homeland. That said, I believe that I will now take my leave and rest for the morrow, as we will be leaving at dawn." Finishing his speech, Ildamar rises from his seat and climbs the stairs. -- Darryl Farr An old grey horse stood on the wall, The Grey Man As daft as he was high. He had no fear of falling down, ac169@freenet.carleton.ca He thought he was a fly. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac559@Freenet.carleton.ca (Ian Clysdale) Subject: [JOI] We leave at dawn Message-ID: <1993Mar29.235729.16957@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Mon, 29 Mar 1993 23:57:29 GMT ADMIN: My USENet feed has been down for the past 3 or 4 days, as I told those of you whose addresses I had on file. If everyone who wants to participate in this could send me their mail addresses, that would be much appreciated so that I can put together an alias file to send mail to all of you. END ADMIN Elanon looks around. "Well, the Ghods seem to smile on this quest; when I advertised for a quest I was not expecting such an illustrious company. But it is good to have what strong hands can be found. I have been quiet for quite a while, listening to those I do not know; greetings those who are old companions. But while I have left you guessing as to purpose, and holding things back; now I will try to explain why I am here. "Far across the Western Sea lies the land of Qar'tima. It is a civilized land; much more so even than this great city. But the people there are sorely repressed, and I would do much to free my home. For the last few years I have been across in Generica, and the environs; and have had the good fortune of meeting some of you. But now it is time for me to return to my home, and see what can be done about freeing my people. "The quest will not be easy, for the leaders and dark powers of Qar'tima are strong; they control the army and the mages. But the power is that of the people, and the people will always triumph. We go, to land our force to coordinate the resistance; to restore justice. "Those who would see far lands; who would travel far distances; who would find new things; who would stand for justice, please come. There is a hard job to be done, and it will take many; as many as will join in the good fight. "I have talked to the portmasters before I came here, and a boat is awaiting all who will come tomorrow at dawn. Those who wish for justice, here is your quest!" Elanon pulls the cowl of his cloak back over his head, and goes back to relaxing and listening to the rest of the group, then finally adds. "Oh, and this precious book may well come in useless. At least it will be unlikely that we will have some mage following after us. -Elanon of Ullswater- -- Ian Clysdale | "Honour thy word, Disciple of Great Cat | honour thy friends. Seer of the Stairwell | Honour thine self, ac559@freenet.carleton.ca | and honour revenge!" MagicHutchHeader From: flinx@stein.u.washington.edu (Brian Gray) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Raoh] Alliances Date: 30 Mar 1993 00:54:06 GMT Message-ID: <1p85neINN8lu@shelley.u.washington.edu> Calmly, Pantora watched from the far side of the fire. The display of the young man's powers was very impressive. Very...intimidating, but potent. Intrigued, Pantora lowered his mental barriers a little, closing his eyes. Then, he turned his unseen gaze upon the party, looking at the { people of the team he had joined. Each was glowing brightly, in his mind's eye--they were vitally strong, and each was full of life. The leader, in particular, blazed with a vibrant red color, the waves of mental energy (something more felt than seen by anyone other than a psionic) radiating strongly. The colors of the others ranged from sturdy browns through living greens and on to cheery yellows. Satisfied that his companions were as they should be, Pantora shifted to face the newcomer. And gasped in amazement. This young man's image was a brilliant white, a blinding display of energy. And that was not all-- lines of energy radiated from this man, leading back into the woods, going into the ground. Other traces arced into the air, fading back as their paths retreated away from Pantora's sight. He opened his eyes wide, and the vision stopped. Slowly, his breathing returned to normal, as he continued to stare at the man on the far side. If this was the same amount of power as wielded by Raoh, then the team was in serious trouble. And doubly so, if this man was not all he seemed. There would be some tricks that Pantora knew he would have to try upon this newcomer...it might give the team the slightest of edges, and in facing power of that magnitude, they would need as many advantages as they could get. Quietly, Pantora thought about the future. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: aaron@atlantis.uucp (Aaron Humphrey) Subject: [Party] Teonyl Message-ID: <1993Mar30.001200.11940@atlantis.uucp> Date: Tue, 30 Mar 1993 00:12:00 GMT ADMIN: Okay, after this the party is over, right? I'm just tying things up, and I've been putting off writing this post because of Civilization, and my feed died for a few days...okay, enough apologies. On with the prose. Oh, and I really >do< need another character. I was running low... Characters introduced: Teonyl Characters involved: Alfvaen When Teonyl opened her eyes, her first thought was that the old wizard had gypped her. She'd lost consciousness, sure, and now she was outside instead of in his dank cave, but it didn't look any different than her world. She checked automatically for her possessions. No, they were all there--he hadn't put her to sleep and robbed her. Well, then, what had he done? Standing up, she sniffed the air. It didn't smell quite right, but then she hadn't been in a pasture for a while. At least it looked like a pasture--she saw several beasts grazing a distance off. Then she looked more closely. Okay, so this probably wasn't her world. She couldn't recall ever having seen grazing beasts quite like that before. Turning the other way, she saw she was quite near the pasture fence, and a fairly major road was on the other side of it. Well, a road had two ends, so if she got on the road and travelled in one direction or the other, she was likely to get somewhere. She pulled out a coin and threw it up in the air. It landed slightly westward of her, but that might just have been because of the wind. She shrugged. No reason to walk against the wind. She started to walk westward down the road. There was a fair bit of traffic heading both ways along the road, although Teonyl herself did not see any for almost an hour after she started walking. In fact, she almost turned back before she saw several wagons in a tangle, which had been holding up traffic outward from the city. She considered asking one of them what lay ahead on the road, but wasn't sure she would be able to speak their language, even though the wizard had assured her that wasn't usually a problem in many planes, for esoteric magical reasons. Still, she didn't want to risk exposing herself as a foreigner until she was in a city, where such foreigners might be more common. A few hours later, she saw before her, at the western terminus of the road, a city. Further, she was starting to hear and smell the sea, so this was likely a port. Well, the old wizard had said the place he was sending her to was a nexus, and ports were more inclined to be nexuses in many ways than more landlocked cities. As she heard snatches of conversation from some of the outward travellers, she relaxed to hear familiar words, although not quite familiar. Somewhat like what she recalled from the one time she'd had the contract in Malaka, and had had to use a spell to understand the language--the feeling of suddenly knowing another language, without having had the chance to learn it. When the reached the East Gate of the city, she was halted by guards, which she handled with equanimity, having encountered guards many times before, and no matter the world or country, guards were still guards. She managed to finesse out the information that the city she was about to enter was called Generica, left them a false name almost without thinking, and was soon passed through to enter. The Dragon's Inn was the one recommended to her, but a brief glance therein served to satisfy her opinion that it was probably an overpriced adventurer's haven. Someplace her sister may have been, so she would have to check back there later, but not someplace she wanted to stay with her limited funds. By giving a silver piece to a street urchin she got directions, and a guide, to Nesters Inn, which was fairly near the docks, but nonetheless reasonable. She didn't miss the fact that the urchin had looked a bit strangely at her coin when she gave it to him, but then shrugged and tucked it away. They must be used to strange money here. As she was entering the Inn, despite it being only shortly after noon outside, she yawned hugely. It had been near midnight when she left Mundal, and while normally this wouldn't present a problem, she had been getting far too little sleep in the past few weeks anyway. Which had probably saved her skin once or twice, but she still preferred a night schedule. The sun made her positively sleepy. The proprietor of Nester Inn was a non-descript and quiet man named Joel Nite, who looked more than a little askance at her money, but again shrugged and put it away. Many of those in the Inn were rustics, who seemed to talk about the things rustics did. She ordered a fish stew, which seemed to be the staple of the place, and relaxed among the conversations of grain prices and meat prices and relatives and weddings. She listened a little more carefully to a pair of first-timers exclaiming on the weird things to be found in Generica. She had seen the Plaza of Glittering Steel, not paying much attention to it at the time, but she noted a few other things--time anomalies being the most important, as well as a pair of bizarre buildings that Teonyl surmised were probably associated with the local Mageguild. Finally she could keep her eyes open only with great effort, and she made her way up to her room. She forced herself to stay alert long enough to make sure her room had the usual precautions, and hoped that none of the cleaning staff were likely to enter the room before dark. Then she sprawled on the bed, loosening her clothes slightly, leaving her weapons within reach on the floor beside her, and fell into a deep sleep. *** She woke up with the traces of disturbing dreams in her brain. She hoped that this world didn't have weird cycles or anything, and that it was indeed sunset, when she had intended to wake up. She heard what sounded like a supper crowd downstairs, and decided she was probably right. Carefully dismantling her various precautions and buckling her weapons back on, she went downstairs, nodding to the innkeeper as she left, and stepped out into the cooling air. It was well into spring here, apparently. She couldn't tell yet, but surmised that this place was at a fairly warm latitude. Now it was time to scout out the town a little bit, and try to figure out what the local organizations were. She didn't want to get in touch with the local Thieves' Guild, not just yet--who knew what connections the Florians had. She'd also have to be circumspect in following her sister's trail, since that may set off flags as well. Best just to look like just another adventurer for now, although she drew the line at staying at that silly Dragon's Inn... *** It didn't take long for Teonyl to take the measure of the Low City. She was a bit amazed at its size, but she got the impression of a power vacuum that dozens of people were rushing to try to fill, stumbling over each other and getting in each other's way. She didn't want to get tangled up in that yet, thank you very much. She strolled through the streets of Merchant's Hill, smiling at the guards who eyes her warily, as she idly cased the houses. All well-protected, a bit of a challenge for when she got bored...but not now. Now she was just a tourist. As she got back onto Dragon's Lane, she heard the sounds of some kind of party. The music she heard was like nothing she'd heard on her world. Intrigued, she investigated further. When she drew nearer, she saw that the house was some kind of living housetree. In a city? A living housetree in a city? Definitely intriguing. She stopped a man who was leaving the party, who was just barely on the ambulatory side of passed-out intoxication. "Is that a private party?" It took a few seconds for the question to penetrate his alcoholic fog, but then he grinned. "Yup. 'S some elf call' Luthor, 'n the barmaid from the Dragon's Inn. Free party, go right in." Then he stumbled down Dragon's Lane. She watched him go, contemplating relieving him of his purse, but thought the better of it. Stay out of trouble, she reminded herself. She managed to duck into the housetree, having decided that the drunk had been telling her it was indeed free admission. Nobody paid her much attention, and from the varied crowd therein she realized that it was, indeed, a Dragon's Inn party. Adventurers everywhere. One of them might have seen her sister, she thought. But it was too soon to start looking, before getting a grip on the local situation. Even if she had to risk the trail growing cold. Still, judging by the makeup of the party, elves were far from a persecuted race. She might like this place, then. Better than her home had become, she thought bleakly. On the other hand, if the Florians had contacts in Generica, they would be elves, and one of them might be here. Hell with it. There was only so much caution she could handle before she felt like a paranoid. And worrying about Florians at this party was past that point. So she mingled determinedly. Several bizarre games seemed to be going on, and the dialects varied wildly. There were many races she'd never seen before, let alone different varieties of elves. Even a few half-elves, like herself, who showed no signs of the "half-breed" ostracism common on Mundal. Better and better. Scrutinizing one of them, a slightly-built male in black, their eyes met. She saw the distinctive hunger that said he was looking for female companionship. Well, she'd give him a chance, at least. May be nothing better to do tonight. He walked over to her and said, in a passable variant of Elvish, "Hello, fair lady. New in town?" "Very new," she agreed. "I'd let you buy me a drink, but I haven't eaten since this afternoon." "You're in luck," he said, grinning. "If you don't mind something a bit different, and a bit spicy, you can try some of 'Raelf's 'pitza'. As for a drink, I'm afraid you'll have to do that yourself. Unless you want some iced tea..." "Iced tea is fine, and this 'pitza' sounds interesting... By the way, my name is Teonyl." "Alfvaen," he said. He led her towards the tables where the pitza trays were set out, and she sampled a piece. Definitely spicy, but something one could get used to. She helped herself to two more pieces after the first was gone, by which point she was glad to have some of the iced tea Alfvaen brought for her. Then they snagged a couple of chairs and sat down. "Well, we've already established that you're not from Generica. Are you from Nexus? This plane," he added, at her nonplussed look. "No. I'm from a place that is known, at least where I come from, as Mundal. Which, prosaically enough, means 'the world'." She took a bite of pitza. "It's not very friendly to elves anymore, which is why I left." Close enough to the truth. No reason to bring up her sister, or the Florians' unfriendliness as well... "Must be a shame," Alfvaen said. "When I was growing up, my best friend was a human, but some fullblood humans and elves, that each hated the other, hated me too." He shrugged. "A provincial attitude, I always thought. Never had that problem in a city." "It helps that the elf-haters are divinely inspired, too. The prophet of Celonar, who these days is given the epithet Elfslayer, was the one who started things rolling, or so my mother tells me. She remembers when it was only a provincial attitude." "Your elven parent, I presume? My mother was human. Always seemed to want me to grow up faster than I did. Mind you, my father was just as bad the other way..." Teonyl nodded. She suddenly realized how easy it was to talk to Alfvaen. He understood some things that few others, especially the full-blooded elves of the Florians, ever did, simply by virtue of being a half-elf. And he still had that hunger lurking in his eyes. She stood up. "Well, I could use some fresh air. This place is getting a bit close. Want to go for a walk?" "Of course," Alfvaen said. "No way I would let a woman like you go out walking without an escort." "You think I can't take care of myself?" Teonyl said in mock pique. "Quite the contrary," he said. "It's me that can't take care of myself. I'd feel much safer with you along." She laughed, and they made their way through the crowd to the door. It was only about an hour before dawn. Alfvaen yawned behind his hand. He probably had been awake before sunset. "I'm staying at a place called Nesters Inn," she said. "It's only a short walk from here." "Wonderful," he said, yawning again. "Sorry, fresh air always makes me do that." "You probably just got up to early. That big bright thing was in the sky, wasn't it?" He laughed. She offered him her arm, and he took it. "This place is a bit strange--the city I mean. Time works oddly here. It doesn't always run at the same rate everywhere. And the weather--only a few weeks ago it was snowing. But now it's getting warm already. I've only been here a month or two, although often it seems longer...this place plays havoc on the calendar." That might help with Eogyd's trail, Teonyl thought. Some places it may be getting cold, but others it may still be fresh...and others it may be totally indiscernible. "Here's the Nesters Inn," she said. They stood there for a moment before Alfvaen bent forward and kissed her. Teonyl responded warmly, pulling him against her. "More of that inside," she whispered. ... [ADMIN: For the rest, see alt.sex.stories...hah, just kidding...] -- ---Alfvaen(1935 Books, 1082 Albums, And Counting) "How could I resist your American arms, and your French kiss?" --Julia Fordham Current Album--Belinda Carlisle:Live Your Life Be Free Current Read--Charles de Lint:The Little Country MagicHutchHeader From: rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Kyar's quest Message-ID: <1993Mar29.150924.6584@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 29 Mar 93 15:09:24 CST Kyar nodded to the newcomer. "Welcome Quaeros," he said. He started to speak again but was interrupted by the arrival of a tall man in black robes. "Which of you is known as Kyar?", the man said in a deep voice. "I am." Kyar replied, standing slowly, with one hand on the hilt of his scimitar. "How do you know my name, stranger?" he asked. "Relax, friend, I mean you no harm-- I seek only to help you regain that which you have lost. Let this token be a measure of my good faith." The man in black reached into the front of his robes, pulling out a necklace with a small medalion attached to it. The man leaned closer so that Kyar and the others nearby could see the pattern imprinted upon it-- the same pattern imprinted on Kyar's own medalion. "My name is Semian Peltor, and I serve the Phadra just as you do. I felt your arrival here, and travelled as quickly as I could to aid you. Many others probably are aware of your arrival as well, and I sense you are in no condition to shield yourself from their probings. Therefore we must act quickly to restore your memory, before any of the others succeed in locating you." Kyar sat down slowly. "I don't understand what you are saying... I am in perfect condition." "Yes, your body healed quickly, but your mind has not recovered. You must allow me to link with your mind and repair the damage. This will hopefully restore your memory, and then you will know what I am talking about." Semain quickly said. "Very well," Kyar said, "let's do it now." Semian pulled a chair around and sat between Kyar and Aleric. He leaned forward, closing his eyes in concentration. Soon Kyar slumped in his chair, and frowned in concentration as well. A few minutes passed, then a few more, and Kyar began to moan in pain. Aleric grabbed Semian's shoulder. "What are you doing to him?" Aleric shouted. Kyar suddenly cried out, then slumped down head first on the table. Aleric stood and jerked Semian out of his chair. "What did you do to him?" he shouted, shaking the smaller man like a rag doll. Many of the other companions had their hands on their weapons, and several of the barmaids were ducking behind tables in anticipation of trouble. "It's okay Aleric, I'm alright." Kyar stood up shakily. "Semian is a friend. He is a Phadran Knight, as am I. My memory has returned to me, and I am myself once again." Aleric released Semian, giving him an appraising look that would have broken most men. Semian turned to Kyar. "Perhaps you would allow me to travel with you now that you have been returned to normal. I would be honored." Kyar nodded. "The Phadra is strong in you. I would gladly accept your help." He then sat back down and addressed the rest of the companions. "My friends, a great evil stirs in a land far from here, and threatens an entire land. The beast is named Riothamus, and his power is great. I tried once before to defeat him, and lost much. The danger is great, but I ask you all to accompany me to destroy this foul beast. His treasure horde is vast, but more importantly, the lives of thousands would be saved if he could be defeated. What do you all say?" MagicHutchHeader From: rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] ADMIN from Kyar Message-ID: <1993Mar29.165553.6586@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 29 Mar 93 16:55:53 CST ADMIN: Apparently Heather and I posted about the same time (or I posted before Heather's post got to my site.) Anyway, the last chapter I posted isn't too logical considering that Kyar and Aleric are both gone shopping for equipment. How about we say that my last post occurred right before we left? Anybody with any problems just e-mail and let me know so I can fix it. ______________________________________________ Jason Rosenberger, rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet, Dept of Chemistry, Western Ky University, Bowling Green, Ky. Phone: (502) 745-6617 MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Aleric and Kyar return Message-ID: <1993Mar29.222511.4877@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 29 Mar 93 22:25:11 -0500 Kyar and Aleric made their rounds of the bazaar bargaining for their supplies. They managed to find everything they would need for the venture without ripping off *too* many merchants. It seemed to Aleric that some of these merchants were a little slow and didn't realize when the customer was getting the better end of the deal. His final stop was at a stable to obtain a pack horse or two to carry the equipment. Everyone in the company had their own mounts, but it was folly to overburden a beast. They made their way back to the Drift Inn with their purchases after the sun had disappeared into the Great Blue Sea. Aleric pulled his dark cloak closer about his body to ward off the chill night air. He and Kyar chatted amiably about prior adventures and experiences, getting to know each other better. Aleric always made a point of finding a friend to go into battle with so neither back was vulnerable. It seemed that the group was well balanced with a variety of talents. Mages were always useful, and Aleric was glad there was at least one thief in the company because his own stealthy skills were near nil. He much preferred the direct approach; his only concession to stealth was moving quietly to ambush an enemy. Upon reaching the Inn, Kyar led the way into the stables and tied the pack horses near his own horse. The two piled the packs against the wall near the horses and left the stable. When they entered the main room of the Inn, Aleric noticed that Ildamar had left the table and apparently gone to bed. Their companions nodded a greeting as they rejoined them. "Well, my friends. While you were gone, we had three more enter our band. Two have gone to their beds already. Laurenth and Darkin are the newest, both absent at the moment. And our large friend over there," Elanon introduced. Aleric nodded to the man, sizing him up with a glance. /He even towers over me/ Aleric thought with surprise. /And at almost seven feet I'm not short!/ "I have acquainted our friends with our purpose. We leave at dawn by ship to my homeland. I have made the necessary arrangements for all of us and our horses." Elanon made a wry face here before adding, "Of course it wasn't without a great deal of grumbling about having to clean his bilges afterward." Those around the table laughed heartily and made various comments about seamen. "That being the case," Aleric began, "I will bid you all goodnight. I will see you all on the morrow at first light." He smiled to himself as he turned away and climbed the stairs. The adventure was finally beginning. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Heather Sexauer hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolf@cheshire.oxy.edu (Clinton Richard Wolf) Subject: ADMIN: Bestiary of the Known Lands Message-ID: <1993Mar30.061453.2819@cheshire.oxy.edu> Date: Tue, 30 Mar 1993 06:14:53 GMT [ADMIN: By popular demand! [of 1 person :)], I am going to go ahead and start a weekly re-posting of the Bestiary once again... this will be depen- dant on interest level, so if you're finding it useful, tell me so, otherwise it shall return to lurk in my account and be available by request only... t'anks...] ----------------------------- | BESTIARY OF THE KNOWN LANDS | ----------------------------- Being a compilation of nasty beasties for use in your APDI postings... Name: Ano Description: A race of centaur-like people who inhabit the Running Lands, the Ano have the feet of a large cat, the body of a horse and the torso of a human. Their hair runs down their spine to the fur covering the lower torso, and resembles a mane. The deeper into the Running Lands, the more peaceful and native the Ano. Attitudes vary from tribe to tribe, but the most noticeable difference is in the Ano who live near the border of the Running Lands, where the humans (called two-leggers) and the Ano are engaged in a dispute over land rights. The Ano feel the farmers and shepherds are encroaching on their hunting grounds and driving the Lees, a species of antelope-like animals hunted by the Ano, deeper into the steppes where the various tribes attempt to not overrun each others territory. The farmers and shepards feel the land is underutilized. Communication is poor because Ano (the language) is difficult to learn and Common is hard for the Ano to mouth. A truce was recently established by a two-legger who spoke fluent Ano, but the peace is an uneasy one. Geographic Range: The Running Lands, distant (way WAY far) southeast portion of the continent. General Attitude: Peaceable, unless provoked Created by: Kelly J. Cooper (kjc@cs.rutgers.edu) Availability: E-mail creator before using Name: Bolas Description: Small fuzzy animals with rat-like faces and retractable claws, Bolas are usually light brown or yellow in color, and travel in packs of about 5-50 individuals. Bolas have three stages of life they they go through. The first is that of youth, where they are given the term 'Hyper-bolas' due to their extremely active metabolisms and general skittishness. Eventually, these young Bolas calm down and choose a mate, moving on to the sec- ond stage. The mated creatures are referred to as 'Pair-a-bolas,' and share a psychic link which increases their effective intel- ligence and capabilities. Finally, in the later stages of their lives, they are simply known as Bolas... that is until Chris can think up another awful pun and get it to work. Geographic Range: The Forests of the Known Lands General Attitude: Curious Created by: Christopher M. Steiner (csteiner@oucsace.cs.ohiou.edu) Availability: General Name: Deathwalker Description: Deathwalkwers are animated corpses, zombie-like and devoid of any true intelligence. Deathwalkers can act upon a set of simple instructions... more com- plex orders only confuse them. They are created by evil priests and mages to do their bidding. Normal weapons do little damage to these monstrosities, but the ritual that gives them life also dries out their skin, making them vulnerable to flame. These creat- ures attack by bludgeoning or strangling their op- ponents with their great strength, which belies their withered appearance. They smell strongly of strange chemicals and decay. Rameshanders, in particular, are known to make use of these creatures as guards and enforcers. Geographic Range: Any General Attitude: Mindless, Violent Created by: Andrew J. Solberg (caz@owlnet.rice.edu) Availability: General Name: Denizar Description: A race of dwarves leading squalid lives in the sew- ers and Gaps of Generica. Geographic Range: The sewers and Gaps of Generica. General Attitude: Unknown Created by: Jaxman (real name unknown) Availability: General until mailed otherwise Name: Draga Description: Dragas are large, lion-like humanoids. They are plains dwellers, descended from the hunters of the savannahs, who make their living herding Ox-like creatures called Grahmas. Dragas grow up to seven feet tall and sport claws, fangs, and a spiked tail; they are quite strong, but their main asset is speed and agility -- they are as spry on their feet as the hunting cats they descend from. Dragas are not stupid, but they have a reputation for being impulsive, and gullible country boys besides. Despite their fierce appearances, Dragas are actually quite peaceful. Geographic Range: The plains of Drotshava, on the Dark Continent General Attitude: Peaceful Created by: Daniel Steven Reinker (dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu) Availability: General Name: Drist Description: A race of reptilian humanoids, often exceeding seven feet in height; their coloring ranges from a deep orange-red to a faded tan. Their heads resemble those of prehistoric ceratopsians, with a single horn protruding above the nostrils. They are quite intelligent, and many are versed in the ways of mag- ic. Geographic Range: The northern deserts of the Dark Continent General Attitude: Peaceful Created by: Brian Diantonio (bdianton@cs.ulowell.edu) Availability: General (since BD is no longer with us...) Name: Dusk Elves Description: Imagine a race of arrogant immortals, xenophobic beyond belief. The elves of the forest of Duskwood have built an empire which has only recently (in the last two centuries) begun to decay. With the establishment of the Council of Elders after the great Duskwood-Dunlith war a century ago, they have come to be ruled by their respective noble "families" and have adopted a decadent form of ancestor worship. Geographic Range: Forest of Duskwood General Attitude: Arrogant, see other races as animals for their pleasure Created by: Jeff Barnes (barnejd@wkuvx1.bitnet) Availibilty: E-mail creator before using Name: Gypsies (Characo) Description: These gypsies are a culture of nomadic, highly religious humans who occupy Hyrexes' Battle- ground in Generica. They are scrupulously honest, with a highly organized society and set of laws, and permit no crime within their walls. Visitors are welcome to the Battleground during the day, but when night comes all outsiders must leave the com- pound. The Characo Gypsies provide many services for Generica, including honest gambling, moneylending, and various arts and crafts. The Gypsies are a color- ful, musical folk, who are friendly and industrious but who like to keep to themselves. In particular, the Gypsies are very tight-lipped about their re- ligion. Geographic Range: Hyrexes' Battleground in Generica General Attitude: Peaceful, Solitary Created by: Andrew J. Solberg (caz@owlnet.rice.edu) Availability: HANDS OFF Name: Karalia Description: A race of felines, resembling humanoid snow leopards in appear- ance. The typical Karalia stands a bit over six feet in height and is covered in thick, soft fur of purest white. Their combin- ation of strength, speed, and agility makes them some of the most formidable hunters of the Known Lands. Karalia society is composed of a rigid caste system, and class mobility is an almost foreign concept to their culture. Each Kar- alia is assigned a position at birth, and trained to assume their role. Those that fail, or have committed a crime or dishonorable act, are banished forever from the Karalia lands. It is these unfortunates that are usually encountered by the other races of the Known Lands, as the location of the Karalia homeland is a closely guarded secret. Those Karalia who have committed espec- ially dishonorable acts are sentenced to a 'death quest,' and will continually seek out powerful opponents to duel with, until they receive the death they seek. Karalia dress in pure white leathers, and for weaponry carry a scimitar and a heavy, clawed metal glove. Geographic Range: Outcasts are found roaming in every region of the Known Lands. The homeland's location is unknown. General Attitude: Reserved, Controlled, Honest. Created By: Cyan McWilliam (s924716@minyos.xx.rmit.oz.au) Availability: E-mail creator before using Name: Kymrath Leviathan Description: An amphibious relative of the octupus family, this beast can survive almost indefinitely on land. While slow moving, the creature can grow up to many times human size, and its large, sucker-equipped tentacles can easily reach across a room to ensnare prey and draw it into the Leviathan's crushing beak. Leviathans are always hungry, and will attack any living thing which intrudes into their lairs. If they are losing a battle, Leviathans will expel a cloud of noxious black ink which blinds and nauseates those attacking it, and then make its escape through a hidden exit from its lair. Leviathans will always have at least one such escape tunnel, and possibly many more. Most of the larger Leviathans encountered will be on land, kept and cared for by various beings and organizations which use them as guards in appropriate areas. Geographic Range: The coasts of the Known Lands General Attitude: HUNGRY!! Created by: Andrew J. Solberg (caz@owlnet.rice.edu). Entry submitted by: Alf- vaen (aaron@space.ualberta.ca) Availability: General Name: Lees Description: Small, four-legged herbivores resembling Earth's antelopes. However, these creatures give birth to litters, averaging five to six pups, instead of singular (or twin) births. They breed very quickly. The area maintains a fragile ecology, where the hunting of the Lees by the Ano keeps the population of the Lees limited so they don't overrun the steppes. Too many Lees could easily graze an area to death; too few Lees and the uncropped grasses won't grow as well, and the soil doesn't get what little nutrients it receives from the Lees' offal. The availability of the Lees also partially dictates the population of the Ano in the area. They are easily frightened and very fast, so hunting them takes a fair amount of skill. Geographic Range: The Running Lands General Attitude: extremely timid Created by: Kelly J. Cooper (kjc@cs.rutgers.edu) Availability: General Name: Loxorian Description: Loxorians are large, elephant-like humanoid war- riors. They are huge beings, standing nearly twelve feet tall at the shoulder and six feet across; there are few creatures that can match them for sheer phys- ical strength. These jungle warriors live for bat- tle; their culture has elevated war to an art form, in exclusion of all others. Most Loxorians fight with gigantic spears or greatswords, in addition to their stamping feet and menacing tusks. Loxorians prize bravery and loyalty above all else; once one has befriended a Loxorian, they have gained a true ally for the rest of their lives. Loxorians can live 200 years or more, but most die before this time due to their violent lifestyle. Geographic Range: The Dark Continent General Attitude: Warlike Created by: Andrew J. Solberg (caz@owlnet.rice.edu) Availability: General Name: Motherspawn Description: These horrors are the bastard 'offspring' of the Great Mother, of which Blade is an example. They exist only to carry out her will, which is generally detrimental to the mortal population of Generica. Motherspawn come in an endless variety of Sanity blasting shapes and sizes, and generally have the same consis- tency and color as Mother herself (Blade is a special case, not having come from Mother's body, but from her magic interacting with the muck of Generica's harbor) When not being used by Moth- er, they roam the ruins of the Shunned Center, preying on the brave and the foolish who enter that unholy place. They tend to strike from surprise to maximize the fear they create in their victims, and also love to stalk their prey before they move in for the kill, relishing the hunt. Geographic Range: The Shunned Center General Attitude: Noisome, hideous, nameless, horrific, evil, amoral, sadistic, soulless, merciless, alien, unfathomable, gruesome, oozing, tentacled, fanged, inhuman, bloody, repellent, etc. (Go ahead and fill in your favorite Lovecraft adjectives, folks ;) ) Created by: Clinton Richard Wolf (wolf@cheshire.oxy.edu) Availability: General (but use discretion, please! I don't want a hundred of these things roaming the Town Square! :) ) Name: Night Lizards Description: A race of large gecko-like lizards (approx. 1'5" in length) that were created by a frustrated mage when his summoning spells for a Familiar repeatedly failed. The result of his efforts has been both a nuisance and a boon ever since. Night Lizards, because of the peculiar purpose of their creation, will seek out and bond with any magic-wielding beings nearby, including Clerics and/or creatures with innate magical abilities. Once bonded, Night Liz- ards will forever follow their 'master', until he or they expire. Usually, it is the mage who expires first, since Night Lizards are almost impossible to kill. Their rubbery, wet skin does not burn well, and they regenerate quite quickly from any damage. It takes a long bath in strong acid to kill one of these creatures. Those who attempt to kill night lizards by hacking them apart are in for an even nastier surprise, as each severed segment will re- generate into a new lizard, which will of course then attach it- self to the nearest spellcaster (tales are told in Elturel of Ne- mocrates the Hapless, who foolishly cast a Blade Barrier spell on some lizards which were following him, and now is accompanied by a Night Lizard entourage of close to 300). Night Lizards can in some ways be beneficial to the mage they are bonded to. Although they are cowardly and will never attack someone, they do have a programmed urge to protect their master, and may fling themselves in the way of a potentially deadly sword blow (thus also ensuring the creation of at least one more lizard), or even cover the mage with their wet bodies if a Fireball were to strike close by. Also, Night Lizards possess excellent Night Vision, an ability which can sometimes be transferred to the being they have bonded with. But for all this, they are still extraordinary pests, as any mage who has tried to enter a city establishment with 52 lizards trailing behind him can attest to. Also, Night Lizards have an extraordi- nary appetite for healing magic of all kinds, from potions to herbs to even items! that they consume to mantain their regener- ative capabilities. Healing potions have become rare indeed in the Kingdom of Elturan, where huge swarms of these creatures roam the forests, eating all the healing herbs and plants in their sight. So far their numbers have been contained due to month-long 'Bathe a Lizard' campaigns in Elturan where mages are employed to lead the mindless creatures out of the forests and into huge cooking pots of acid... but soon the Lizards might spread, and who knows how many more might be created if they reached a land where their abilities are unknown? Geographic Range: The Forests of Elturan General Attitude: Instinctive, Mindless, Annoying Created by: Christopher M. Steiner (csteiner@oucsace.cs.ohiou.edu) Availability: General Name: Orc Dogs Description: Orc Dogs were originally bred by the Orcish tribes in an attempt to produce a strain of hostile, intel- ligent war dogs. The end result, large toothy mas- tiffs, was indeed vicious, powerful, and cunning, but lacked the necessary discipline for military use, and thus were sold off as guard dogs to owners who a) want a lethal deterrant to trespassers, and b) aren't into animal handling. Orc Dogs are pure carnivores which will not eat food that they did not kill themselves. They have no loyalties; anything moving is a potential meal. A number of these creat- ures have escaped domestication (usually through a messy end to their owners), and now roam the Low City in packs, attacking rats, cats, drunks, and lone or injured travellers. Geographic Range: The Low City General Attitude: Hostile Created by: Daniel Steven Reinker (dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu), entry submitted by Andrew J. Solberg (caz@owlnet.rice.edu) Availability: General Name: phu Description: The phu (never capitalized) are a race of smooth-skinned, hair- less humanoids, usually grey, although indivaiduals range from an albino white to a deep ebony coloring. phu of either sex dress alike, wearing shorts (no shirt) and a wide-brimmed hat, both woven from the pulp of plants. phu never wear shoes, as the soles of their feet are extremely tough, and their bodies seem equally comfortable in the freezing winds of the north and searing deserts along the equator. Travelling phu, known as trackers, carry sim- ple weapons as well, usually a spear or throwstick and a dagger made of obsidian or beaten metal. The phu are an ancient people in the Known Lands, but are not native to the plane of Nexus. Instead, they came here, as they claim, 'following the godslongpast' across bridges spanning many worlds. The phu were plentiful across every land mass of the Known Lands while the other races were still young. But as man, elf, drist, and lizardman became more 'civilized', the phu withdrew and dwindled, and now are only found in isolated valleys or on unchar- ted islands, gathering around natural wonders which they believe are the imprints of the godslongpast they seek. The phu possess a remarkable, though taxing ability to change their shape, and can interbreed successfully with any race, the child quickly assuming the form of the non-phu parent. Their tracking skills are also legendary. No creature in the Known Lands is their equal in this field. phu possess telepathy, and make use of a special ritual magic, in which they call forth the powers of the 'dream time' with music and dance, in order to replenish the lands around them. Geographic Range: When 'tracking', any. Otherwise, in isolated areas possessing unusual natural formations. General Attitude: Aloof, helpful, peaceful. Created by: Tim Huesman (tim@mik.uky.edu) Availability: E-mail creator before using Name: Rameshanders Description: A race of humans from the country of Rameshan, a de- sert land to the south of Generica. They are indus- trious diplomats and traders, who specialize in rare products such as spices, hardwoods, oils and balms, silks, carpets, and (most infamously) slaves. The culture and peoples of Rameshan can be compared to those of the Ottoman empire of the early Renaissance period. Whether slavers or not, Rameshanders have a reputation for unscrupulousness and greed. Geographic Range: Rameshan and major trading centers General Attitude: Greedy, Devious Created by: Dennis Brennan (djb6@midway.uchicago.edu) Availability: General Name: Scissormen Description: These extraplanar entities hail from the dimension of Orqwith, which has been described by reputed sages as "A very strange place..." Scissormen appear as faceless humanoids with scissors in place of hands, which they use as weapons. Their language is composed of seemingly random English words, and their motives, while inscrutable and nebulous, are always evil. Scissormen are known to be able to walk through walls and levitate, as well as being able to both sense and affect invisible and non-corporeal creatures. They may have other abilities, as well. Usually, sciss- ormen are only encountered as a result of being summoned by a mage or other powerful being. The only ones to have been encoun- tered in Generica recently were summoned by the mage Moriarty during an extremely destructive tavern brawl. It is unknown wheth- er this was an accident, or Moriarty knows of Orqwith and its strange inhabitants... Geographic Range: The Dimension of Orqwith General Attitude: Wierd, Evil Created by: Grant Morrison, an artist for the DC comic, Doom Patrol. Note that Scissormen are not an original creation of this group, but are in- cluded because I felt them to be obscure enough to warrant an en- try. Andrew J. Solberg (andsol@is.rice.edu) is responsible for bringing the Scissormen to Generica, but those of you who might be making books out of threads using them should be warned that copyrights may come into play... Availability: General (this group is non-profit :), so copyrights don't matter here! Use them at will...) Name: Shock Rat Description: Sages specializing in studying the variety of Nexic fauna often use shock rats as illustrative examples when discussing survival-of-the-species-through-mutation. A shock rat appears approximately the same size, color and mass as a large ordinary rat, but possess a talent which allows them to survive despite the agressive natures of the T-crocs and orc dogs, with which they compete for space in Generica's sewers. A shock rat is capable of discharging an electrical pulse or shock to any target in contact with its tail. This shock is powerful enough to stun a man (or T-croc), allowing time for many shock rats to overwhelm their prey and bite. Orc dogs appear to be immune to this shock attack (or are tough enough to ignore it). It is very unpleasant to be immersed in water in metal armour when many shock rats are near, as adventurers profess. Geographic Range: Generica's sewers, the Gaps, and the Underwurlde General Attutude: BZZT! Ouch! Vermin! Created By: Dennis Brennan Availability: General (Everyone should have one. Make great practical jokes!) Name: Tantoln Tree Description: Huge, oak-like trees, towing 20 to 50 meters in height, on the average. Tantoln trees only grow above vast underground complex- es such as dungeons, extending their roots into such catacombs to form a thick subterranean net. Tantoln trees are carnivorous, and when a living creature brushes against one of its roots, it will entangle the unfortunate victim and drain it of blood. Tan- toln trees always grow singly, with about a kilometer separating each individual tree. Thus, they stand out greatly from the aver- age. But aboveground they are no different looking or dangerous than any large tree you might encounter. A great forest of these trees blankets the Lands to the east of Generica, from the Mysty Mountains in the north to the marshes of the south, lending cree- dence to the rumors of a vast underground network in the area. Geographic Range: The Great Tantoln Forest General Attitude: Above ground: tree-like; below ground: hungry Created by: Jorma Pesonen (JPESONEN@viiki.helsinki.fi) Availability: General Name: Tunnel Crocodiles Description: Tunnel crocodiles, or 'T-Crocs', as they are com- monly known, are ordinary crocodiles which have ad- apted themselves to life in the sewers of Generica. T-Crocs have excellent night vision and tough hides, and move quite well on land as well as in water. Most importantly, T-Crocs are slightly smarter than their jungle ancestors; they have been known to co- operate, and hunt in large packs to bring down prey. T-Crocs hunt at night, and they dislike bright lights and large groups of people. They will eat nearly anything, but have a particular fondness for Denizar. The Denizar themselves have a fondness for T-Croc eggs, and thus they constantly battle and raid one another's territories. Most T-Crocs stay below ground all the time, but hungry or bold crocs will occasionally venture above ground to stalk prey. Geographic Range: The sewers of Generica General Attitude: Territorial, Hungry Created by: Andrew J. Solberg (caz@owlnet.rice.edu) Availabilty: General Name: Troll Description: The race of trolls found on Nexus appear much the same as human beings and have even adopted human dress. They are distinguished from people, however, by their deformities. Trolls' deformities differ from family to family and from troll to troll. Typical examples include Duke Elgar's deer-like antlers or the noted Troll priest Bicharundus, whose left arm is covered with gorilla-like fur. Trolls themselves find these deformities as repulsive as humans do, so many trolls have learned to disguise or conceal their deformities by dress or enchantment. Like their AD&D counterparts, Nexic trolls have remarkable regenerative talents, being able to re-bond or re-grow severed limbs. Many trolls also practice cannibalism, although those who associate most with the other races eschew this delicacy. Travelers and adventurers report the existence of a Troll nation, ruled by a king, but the loc- ation of this alleged state is disputed. Geographic Range: Any General Attitude: Any. Some trolls are "bad guys," others are not. Created By: Dennis Brennan (djb6@midway.uchicago.edu), although Nexic trolls are based on those found in Theresa Edgerton's fantasy novels. Availability: General Name: Twentlan Description: Tiny humanoids (about 10 to 20 cm in height) who inhabit the Great Tantoln Forest, making their homes and their livings within the huge trees. A single tree may contain from 1 to 5 Twentlan cities, which may or may not be of the same nationality, and each tree community is largely autonomous from the others, although trade does exist between them. The Twentlan are also known as Squichiik, or 'squirrel-riders'. This is not incidental to the fact that they have domesticated squirrels as mounts and beasts-of-burden. They are a private people, and rarely venture among the 'Big Ones', as the call the larger races of the Known Lands, except in thimes of direst need. Geographic Range: The Great Tantoln Forest General Attitude: Cautious Created by: Jorma Pesonen (JPESONEN@viiki.helsinki.fi) Availability: E-mail creator before using Name: V'rixx Description: The V'rixx are an ancient if somewhat rare race of insect humanoids, interested mainly in trading, and possess an unpar- alleled talent for the mastery of languages. While highly intel- igent, V'rixx are physically weak, and possess no talent what- soever in the magical arts, a shortcoming they make up for with their great lust for magical baubles and trinkets. Geographic Range: Anywhere, but prefer warm climes. General Attitude: Usually cautious. Created by: Jeff Barnes (barnejd@wkuvx1.bitnet) Availibilty: General Name: Zril Description: The Zrilin are new to the Known Lands and Nexus and come from a world 'sealed' to other planes. Their magic is foreign, dark, and bloody, and they have conquered and raided many other worlds be- fore their arrival in Nexus. Each world the Zrilin choose to raid has some sort of valuable 'commodity' the Zrilin wish, be it mon- ey, luxuries, or... slaves... A Zril stands anywhere from 4'6" to 5'6" tall, with veinous pock- marked red skin, and one eye. The mouth of a Zril appears to be more a raw wound than a device for eating and speaking. A Zril can have many arms, from one to seven, but only the first arm of a is natural; any others have been grown through artificial means. A Zril's second arm is usually located in the center of its body, and is made up of a latticework of borrowed sinew, fingers, and nails. The 'bones' of this arm are made of black stone carved with odd runes, and it is this second arm the Zrilin use to create and control their dark magics. Zrilin never travel alone, always carrying with them an entourage of slaves from various worlds. The duties of such slaves are well- defined, and a Zril will not travel with more slaves than it feels are needed. The Zrilin are sexless, and their reproduction cycle is a topic of great secrecy at this time. Suffice it to say that it is is sorcerous in nature, and is the greatest abomination the Zril- ins' homeworld of Zatur has ever known... Geographic Range: Zatur and many other worlds across the multiverse. General Attitude: Diabolic, decadent, and barbaric. Created by: Timothy C. Huesman (tim@mik.uky.edu) Availability: General (until mailed otherwise) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: [JOI] The large one speaks. Message-ID: <1993Mar30.034138.11941@ultb.isc.rit.edu> Date: Tue, 30 Mar 1993 03:41:38 GMT The large figure who had been sitting silently the whole time, nods his head in agreement. Starting early was fine with him, the sooner they were out of the city the better, there were too many people here and too many magic users. About the time that Quaeros sat down and stopped talking he began to feel uneasy. The feeling grew in him until he noticed its source. It was coming from the large cloaked figure sitting across the table from him. In fact as he looked around him, the rest shifted uneasily, catching sideways glances at the strange figure. He himself seems at odds with his surrondings. "Well it seems this is the time for introductions," speaking from under his hat and cloak, the voice is still deep and clear. "My name is Segoi, taken from one of the gods from which I draw wisdom. He is the creator of a realm in which I once dwelt, and who's teachings I follow. As before stated you may have need of my strength, and as to why I would join thee. Why Laurenth has given reason enough for any soul to tred the hellways; ADVENTURE!" This last word sends tingles down Quaeros's spine. Segoi was definitly one to be approached with caution, and there was something else more sinister hidden beneath that claok, something destructive, something unknown... ...but he was speaking again. "Pray tell me Laurenth, why do you cover the childs mouth so?" Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader From: peters@physics.ubc.ca (Dan Peters) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Kaalzic: "family" Message-ID: <1p9b4fINN3dl@iskut.ucs.ubc.ca> Date: 30 Mar 93 11:32:31 GMT Kaalzic was carving intricate designs in a log which he intended to set up as an ornamental pole in front of his cabin. Hearing a noise, he paused in his carving, turned around, and saw a grey she-wolf. No surprise there. This wolf (to whom he had given the name Zana) visited him frequently when her pack was in the vicinity. Usually her mate (Kaalzic called him Toric) was with her, but not this time. Zana seemed agitated. Kaalzic wondered what the trouble was. He didn't bother speaking aloud; he had long since concluded that these wolves, quite unlike the ordinary wolves of his homeland, could read his mind. ------------------------------------------------------------ This conclusion hadn't taken long to reach. Five years earlier, arriving at Generica after two years of searching, he had camped on the edge of a clearing in the woods, not far from the road. Awaking at first light, he saw a pack of large wolves on the other side of the clearing. One cub was injured, and the rest were gathered round protectively. His first thought was that it was a pity that the wolves would not let him near the cub (a natural assumption), since he could probably be of some help. Immediately one of them walked most of the way toward him, turned around, walked a few steps back, and turned to face him. Kaalzic didn't catch on immediately, but the wolf continued such antics until he realized he was to follow. He always carried several kinds of herbs, fungi, and other things, of medicinal value. Not much of it was for treatment of sickness or disease ('though there was some of this), rather most of them were for fighting infection, promoting healing of injuries (especially external), and dulling pain. Exactly the things he had needed himself. The pain killers in particular were what had kept his sanity intact - such as it was - for the year before his search began, and his knowledge of healing was learned from the old couple who had cared for him during that time - after the wizard had melted most of his face. The cub had a cut in her side, not too deep, but messy. Kaalzic wanted to build a fire and heat some water, but was afraid the wolves would react badly to this. Then before he realized what was happening, they were gathering wood for him. Later, after he had finished cleaning and stitching the wound (having liberally used some of his pain-killing fungus), he thought he might walk to the river to replenish his water supply, but immediately one of the wolves acted in the "follow me" manner which the first wolf had used, and soon he was led to a nearby small, clear brook. Since that day, the wolves had been the closest thing he had to family. He never did find out how the cub, Zana, had acquired her injury. The telepathy (or whatever it was) never worked in the opposite direction. He was inclined to envy the wolves for this ability to read his mind and each other's minds, but whenever he thought about the events of that day, he realized that he was much better off than they, in a way. He had hands. With thumbs. ------------------------------------------------------------ Zana quickly led him about twenty paces away, then sniffed the ground for a few seconds and led him more slowly in a different direction. They passed through a patch of mud and then climbed a rock outcropping, from which the cabin was visible. There were muddy footprints already there on the rock; booted feet, slightly smaller than Kaalzic's. , he thought. ------------------------------------------------------------ [ADMIN: I picture the Great Forest as coming within a mile or two of Generica's walls in some places. Please advise me if this contradicts established geography. I have no idea what significance, if any, these footprints have. Ideas are welcome. :-) ] Drin -- ^..^ / | Dan Peters | "I've got too much energy | /_/\_____/ | | to switch off my mind, | /\ /\ |peters@physics.ubc.ca| but not enough _ _ | / \ / \ | | to get myself organized...." -The The | MagicHutchHeader Date: Sunday, 28 Mar 1993 22:08:48 EST From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93087.220849344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] Rough Introductions [ADMIN: This is a repost, as the original attempt apparently didn't make it out worldwide. Large thanks go to Joe Carl Jr. and The Dreamer for their valued input into this post...] Lancos stood up, and vertigo came all at once, and with such intensity that he felt like lying back down. But he steadied himself, and the spinning room slowed down. His eyes adjusted to the bright morning light until the sharp piercing pain in his eyes wasn't so irritating. He finally looked around with competency, and noticed that he was alone. However, there was a note on the table, which Lancos picked up and read as such: Friend, I have other business to attend to, so I cannot be here now. And being an adventurer, I doubt you'll stay here and wait for me anyways. Although this is not my primary abode, it is a place where you may reach me, besides the Dragon's Inn that is. One final word before we separate. I have read the path of your fate (I can just see your eyes rolling into your head while reading this). Your path will lead you back to the location of your first encounter in your previous quest. Before, you may have gone there on a whim or in wandering, but perhaps you will go there now to satisfy your curiousity about my abilities. Nevertheless, history will repeat itself in a sense. I wish you luck... Enn. Lancos couldn't help but grin -- and almost laugh -- at this. Enn was right, of course; there would be a part of him that couldn't rest peacefully if he didn't do this immediately. He had gone through the Dragon Quest thinking it was _his_ choice to do so -- to come to Generica. Apparently the truth was it had been 'Raelf Elder or the PCD or whatever that had "chosen" him. So why not let pre-destiny determine what was to come this time also? He stepped out of the shack, and started for the Dragon's Inn, before correcting himself. The note said "first _encounter_", meaning his tete-a-tete with Krastin, not _too_ far from the Scrappy Ram. So he wound his way through the Low City, through the virtual maze of streets. It wasn't hard to feel nervous upon entering some of the emptier locales. To feel the danger of a surprise attack, or the despair of getting lost, or an increased menace from the shadows. But Lancos bolstered himself against these thoughts. Even with alcohol still in his blood, he felt competent for any battle that might appear, as any fighter must. And he had a photographic familiarity with the town and a ranger-esque -- even _he_ had to admit that -- way of tracking his location. Then, as he passed a collection of garbage cans at the entrance of a dead-end alley, he heard a soft muffled sound, coming from an area that was otherwise silent. It was a sound not worth getting worried about, but still curiousity got the better of him, and he moved in to investigate. After a few seconds, he determined that the sound was coming from _underneath_ an overturned container. He carefully lifted one end, and a small cat exited, and showed its appreciation by hissing condiscendingly, as if it was saying "It's about time you let me out". It had several scars on its skinny yellow-furred body, and had apparently become unwilling tailless via a weapon, which was no doubt also why it disliked people. Lancos took pity upon it, and took out a bit of food and poured some water into a bowl. When the cat looked wary of it, Lancos backed away until it had a chance to investigate the food. Either it trusted Lancos or else hunger got the better of it, for it soon supped upon the offering. Lancos sat in a crouch and watched the cat eat, enjoying his good deed. After the meal, the cat had a changed attitude towards the warrior, coming nearer and purring slightly. Lancos petted it -- her; he corrected himself. The cat reacted to the touch positively. Lancos then stood and began to move on, and the cat followed at a respectful distance. The warrior walked briskly for a bit, but still the cat followed. Lancos knew he wouldn't get rid of it easily, and consigned himself to its presence. Heh -- an animal companion. Now people would _really_ think him a ranger. 'So be it!' he decided, perhaps finally admitting the connection to himself. As a final approval, he decided to name her Bast. A smile crossed his face as he thought of recent events -- 'Raelf "revealing" himself to be a cat-man, Arienne's purr-like speech, and now this; it was amusing how these things connected to his life in such an obvious manner. He arrived at the area of Krastin's attack after what seemed a short period of time. Of course, that was the thing in Generica, the timestream was awkward. And the period in Ak'Irneg hadn't helped matters. How long had it been in Generica's time since he'd last been here: a month? About three- fourths of a year? Past the end of the world itself? The area was deserted, as it had been the last time, and a slight breeze blew through it like before. Lancos' mind drifted in remembrance; the parallel was unrefutable. It was almost as if Lancos could see the blood that had stained the streets after the battle. Could sense the footsteps of someone nearby. Could hear the scream Krastin had emitted. His focus snapped back to the present -- he _had_ heard a scream. From a young girl, and from a distance not far from his own, if his ears hadn't deceived him. He ran towards the sound, always willing to help the damsel in distress like the "hero" he was. * * * * >The Gutt Man rolled over and grabbed his leg. Blood trickled down his face >in a steady stream from a cut above his left eye. When he caught sight of >Little Rat, he forgot the chase, the pain in his leg, and everything else. >For months, he had been searching the Low City for this child and now he >had found her. The board Little Rat used had flown from her hand when she had whacked the Gutt Man on the shins, and she now stood face to face with every child's nightmare. Lissa had stopped at the sound of the board smacking into the Gutt Man's knees, and stood transfixed as he got up. His knife shined brightly, even in the shadowy alleyway. Gutt Man got up on one knee. The blood-encrusted knife rolled back and forth in his hand as he flipped it from edge up to edge down and back again. The flicker of light as it played off its edge was hypnotic. Gutt Man softly moaned an insane laugh, his eyes wide with joy. Here was the little brat he had hated more than all the others. His nostrils flared with excitement. "Run fo' you life!" Little Rat screamed, and both she and Lissa took off running as quickly as their little feet would take them. Gutt Man launched himself into a sprint after the two of them. He threw his head back and cackled an insane joyous laugh as he pursued, gaining with each step. Lissa was in the lead and didn't know where she was running. She was just going anywhere as fast as she could go. She didn't hear the little gril that had saved her screaming directions behind her. "Not dat way, it's a dead end". Little Rat had followed the older girl, thinking she knew a better route and only realized otherwise when it was too late. As Lissa and Little Rat turned to run out of the alley, Gutt Man slid into the alley opening. His arms opened wide as if expecting an embrace. Little Rat screamed her desperation, looking for something to fight with. Lissa shrank back up against the wall of the alley, cowering in fear. * * * * Both Lancos and Darvos heard this second scream, but from different places, and each had a similar reaction to it. Both knew it was a different voice, with Lancos feeling a tinge of familiarity about it. Both ran faster towards it, Darvos worried that Lissa might be too hurt to do the screaming _this_ time. * * * * Little Rat scanned quickly around the alley, looking for an escape route, or something to hold the Gutt Man off with. And she found temporary salvation in the form of a wooden board. Or thought she had, until the Gutt Man laughed. "Heh heh heh. Silly girl, you don't have that smelly troll Trawm to protect you, or that elf and his whore. And I know my knife beats your stick any time. Prepare for pain, child!" he said with a look of love on his face. Gutt Man was really enjoying this; his prey fighting back only added to the pleasure he got when he was proven superior by killing it. But the Little Rat hung tough through the words. She wasn't the type to give up, and if she were to die, she would do so fighting. She shook off her fear, regardless of Gutt Man's wicked smile, of his shadow filling the area behind him... 'Wait a sec' a back part of her mind realized, 'da sun's behind 'im, how's his shadow in back?' Something in the way Little Rat looked around him told Gutt Man there was someone behind him. Gutt Man spun to face the foe with sheer anger in his eyes. "They need to die, I must relieve them of their suffering!" he charged in, swinging wildly with his knife. He had closed the distance so fast that his foe couldn't use his scimitar properly and was dodging left and right to avoid the knife sweeps. Little Rat reacted to the opportunity, striking Gutt Man in the back of the head with the board she'd picked up. He paused in surprise, and she struck him again, sapping him to the ground. As he collapsed to the ground, her fear kept her from realizing he wasn't moving anymore, and she hit him again, and again, and again, and .... Lancos was impressed with the display. But when he saw who the child was, and that she hadn't recovered, he interposed himself and gently grabbed her, softly saying, "It's all right now... Everything's all right." The Little Rat screamed again at the touch of hands on her, half-convinced that the Gutt Man had risen despite her work. Then she looked at the man with a glimmer of recognition. "Yeah..., you know me. Lancos, remember? I was searching for that dragon..." he paused, realizing the girl would have no idea what sort of creature that was, "... er, lizard thing." And the Little Rat _did_ remember. The man even had a very minor part in her tale. She knew he was a friend of the Elfman, and knew she was no longer in danger. A small smile crossed her face as she said, "Thanx, mister knight." And for once, Lancos made no effort to discourage such a title. * * * * Darvos was nearly frantic by now, when he reached the area. He peered into the alley, still hearing the screams in his mind, seeing only a figure poised over a little girl. He yelled, "Get off of her!", his accent missing in the excitement, and cast a minor defensive spell on the child, pushing the man away. Being off-balance in the first place, it caused him to be pushed to the ground and away from the child. He readied an offensive spell that would cripple a normal man. "No, it's okay. He saved me." The Little Rat announced, motioning towards Lancos, and to the prone figure of the Gutt Man. Darvos was overswept with emotions. Surprise, in finding the girl's face was unfamiliar. Wonder, at where Lissa was. Shock, at seeing the third -- bloodied -- figure on the ground for the first time. Guilt, at seeing who he'd almost cast his spell against. "Lancos?!? I'm very sorry, friend. Are you all right?". His accent was back; he rolled the r's in his particular way. "Yeah, I'm fine." Lancos said, getting to his feet again. Actually, he was a bit sore, and possibly bleeding in one spot, but in a weird sense it felt good. If he had been wearing his medallion, he might not have been affected, but it was _good_ to be without it, to remember life's hardships without its "promise" of safety. Yeah, safety, and all he had to do was get rid of his morals and concern for others. "I'm more worried about her, and maybe him." "Is he dead?" "No, but he won't regain consciousness for a while. I'm just wondering what to do with him." "I want him alive." Darvos said in an authoritative tone. "In case he knows anything about Lissa. "All right, we can take him to the Keep or something." Lancos conceded. "And who's Lissa?" "A little girl under my care, a native of Low City. I think she came down here with some food, for what purpose I'm unsure of." At that moment Lissa came running out of the shadows. "Darvos, here I am" she said, trying to act bravely as she had seen Little Rat do. "You should have seen her, she saved my life. He came at me and was gonna kill me and she whacked him with a board and then he chased both of us and then we were trapped and she hit him again and then he was down." She looked at Little Rat with admiration. "Thank you, you're a hero." she said. Little Rat smiled at the praise, but didn't know what to say, having generally only received insults from people before. "Um, yes, thank you very much, miss." Darvos said. "Oh, yeah, you need introductions, how foolish of me.". Lancos slapped his head softly, expressing the feeling of stupidity. "Darvos, this is the Little Rat, a tough and wise person even beyond the Low City standard. And Little Rat, this is Darvos, a wizard of some worth, as I found out the hard way..." The Little Rat felt pride in the way Lancos had described her, and in that she had met a knight and a wizard in the same day. The only bad thing about the day lie at her feet. "So whats we do with da Gutt Man?" she asked. "Ummm..." Darvos pondered, still unsure what kind of name 'Little Rat' was. "We take him to jail, like Lancos said." Darvos didn't want to kill Gutt Man in front of this child, and wanted Gutt Man to suffer for even the threat of killing his precious Lissa. "All of us." Lancos added to the children. "You've got to help put him away, and you're important other ways, also." Darvos nodded agreement. He cast a spell on the Gutt Man to insure he wouldn't unexpectedly wake up, and the four began to carry him to the Keep. =========================================================================== Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader From: jclifford@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (jen/cliffy :)) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Laurenth's reply...and Darkin's contradiction Message-ID: <1993Mar30.143344.4887@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 30 Mar 93 14:33:44 -0500 NOTE: An explanation is needed--sort of--Laurenth has been asked a question and she's already in bed. :) So--we are assuming that this was asked before they went to care for their horses. Here goes!! After the question had been posed to Laurenth, Darkin bit her hand to speak for herself. "For !your! information I am !not! a child! My friend here believes that I speak my mind too freely sometimes, and say things that should be kept quiet. I, on the other hand, feel that honesty is a virtue..." As Darkin is speaking her voice level keeps getting quieter, but her mouth is still moving full speed ahead. It becomes apparent to Darkin that Laurenth is taking control of the situation once again. Darkin, grinning to herself, knows that Laurenth has just given away something which she did not intend. "As we said before, we believe we can be of some _small_ help on this journey. I may as well explain now--" and she directs a glare at Darkin's silent explosion of laughter. "I have lived most of my life in the control of a mage far to the west. I know nothing of family, only of service to her. Service that was not a burden--she was teaching what I wanted to know. Always, I have longed to be on my own, in company of my choosing. She was killed two winters ago. After her affairs had been put in order, and safeguarded, I began to wander, looking for something to challenge my training. I believe I have found that here. "I met Darkin last new moon. I had entered an inn, and there she was singing very bawdily at the top of her lungs whilst swinging from the chandelier. As I walked to the bar, the chandelier broke and crashed on to the floor in front of me. I helped her up, put out a few fires on her clothing and sobered her up. She was not happy that I wasted all that 'dark ale.' She demanded that I join her for a drink, on me, and we began to talk." At this point, Darkin yanked on Laurenth's sleeve and motioned wildly for the return of her voice. Resignedly, Laurenth did. "All this is ever so interesting, but we both have had a very long day, we need our rest. I will tell the true story in the morning." Darkin looked at Laurenth, she nodded and they went to their room. jen/cliffy :) "Life can be fine if we're both sixty-nine!" -and- --Monty Python }Z{ "Purple things have rights!!" --GURPS MagicHutchHeader From: hilanse@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Bossie:Takes Flight Message-ID: <1993Mar30.111951.6594@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 30 Mar 93 11:19:51 CST Bossie ambled back to her warm bed in the barn. Farmer J2BR had recently spread more hay on the ground, and she munched contentedly as it got dark outside. She looked around the barn with her muddy brown eyes, when she heard a high-pitched squeak. Bossie stared upwards into the rafters, the squeaking began to get louder. She saw small dark shapes, flitting about and part of her mind told her to be afraid, while another, darker part calmed her, and wooed her into quiet submission. Funny, she thought, that she hadn't heard the squeaking before, or noticed the source. She recognized that the small dark shapes were bats, and then she recognized her kinship with them. Bossie felt the dark presence in her mind come forward, but this time, she was not pushed back. When it arrived, she felt animal urges welling up within her. Bossie backed away from the Other, trying to squeeze her psyche into some dark corner of her mentality. The Other mind had not noticed her yet, and she felt a far stranger sensation than any she had ever felt before. She looked through her own eyes, and felt her own body, but she was not controlling it. Her detachment panicked her and her psyche pulsed with fear, the Other had seen her. The Beast leapt forward into the consciousness of its body, stretching and limbering after its long sleep. It looked into to rafters of the barn, emitting a high-pitched moo in greetings to its bat brethren. Licking its teeth it began to walk from the barn when it noticed the smell. Fear wafted through its nostrils, acrid and sweet at the same time. The Beast tried to follow the scent, but it was everywhere, driving it into a bloodrage. The Beast looked inward to call on its supernatural senses when it saw the intruder within its mind. A wave of rage passed through the mental battlefield, smothering Bossie in its path. She cringed when she saw the Other's form, its slavering fangs, ridged spine, and wings. Her instincts told her to run, but there was nowhere, and the Other was approaching quickly, Bossie knew what she would have to do. She leapt at the Beast, surprising it, and knocking it to the ground, but its counterpunch was worse than any she could imagine. The Beast fell back at the attack from the pitiful creature, its blow merely a scratch. The Beast hurled itself at its prey and knocked it to the ground. There it stood over the unconscious body, breathing heavily. It sank its fangs into the flesh of the intruder and began to draw blood from its body. The Beast drew back in disgust, however, as the blood was bitter and sour. As it pulled back the body of the intruder disappeared, and the Beast felt a new strength surge through its body. The intruder was no more. The Beast stepped out of the barn, spreading its newly formed wings and taking flight into the cold, black sky. It would never worry about losing control again. Wampires! (C)1993 Moos Brothers Wonko The Sane -Say, uh, how can a cow grow wings? --I dunno, man, just forget it. -No, really, I wanna know. --Leave it alone man, just get out the last bag of Plutonian Nyborg. MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: How about a storm? Keywords: question about a possible new thread entry Message-ID: <16BA112564.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Date: 31 Mar 93 02:51:48 GMT I am posting this to ask what you think about an idea I had today. Today in the town where I live in RL, there was a major storm sys- tem, with tornadoes in nearby counties. What I would like to do is bring such a system through Generica. Lots of thunder, lots of hail, lots of rain, maybe some property damage, etc. What I would like to do is write a description of this storm blowing up, then blowing into town. Then each person who was writing on a thread that took place in Generica would take note of this weather condition and have his/her characters take shelter, go to try to rescue someone, etc. I would leave property damage to the individual owners of the property. What do you all think? I would think it would be interesting to see how everyone reacts in an emergency, and see the effects of such an emergency on the town. Come to think of it, the intense electrical activity associated with such a storm could provide the perfect sit- uation for magical or alchemical experiments, if any wizard wanted to attempt it. Unless I get some strenuous objections within the next few days, I will start the ball rolling with a thread entitled [Storm]. What do you think? Heck, it could be FUN... -- Chris Meadows || "The Zetons look like beautiful CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || women, but their tissues are made CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || of paper, so they burn, like paper." CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || --Captain Harlock, Ziv's lame-o dub. MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] [Jiri] Doctor, Doctor, Give Me the News... Date: Tue, 30 Mar 93 22:15:03 CST Message-ID: <16BA1138E7.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: [AU] [Jiri] Andrea 'Raelf ra'Elya Sheryl Khyra Serene ADMIN: Thanks to Steve Hutchison, who wrote the majority of this entry, and to the following people for the use or mention of the following characters in the next few messages: Stephen Hutchison 'Raelf ar'Elya Kalhad the Blackk Khyra Jiriku Christopher Motherway Raoh And gods help me if I left anyone's name out or spelled any of the character names wrong. :) There was a pile of boxes. There were cardboard lids and plastic wrappers and paper and heaps of tags, cut off and discarded at random. A blond man in his twenties sat in an overstuffed chair talking to the pile of boxes. "Raye, you look fine, it's just the Dragons' Inn, not the Embassy." "Do I tell you how to dress?" "Yes." "Well, you should listen." "I don't WANT to buy all my clothes from GQ and Banana Republic." "Well, you're wearing the wrong gender for Victoria's Secret," the boxes replied, and rose into a tall heap, falling aside as the woman behind them tossed them away. She was average height, somewhat athletic but not hard, with red-brown hair halfway down her back. At the moment, she wore a silky blue-green dress with curves in all the right places. "I prefer to make my own clothes." "Then why did you set up the catalog-tap back to Earth? All the high fashion magazines and papers?" "I didn't say I like to look tacky, Raye." "Well, the surfer-jock look is fine when appropriate, but I want to dress up a bit for dinner. Besides," she pulled open another box, and held out a raw-silk shirt in an eastern-european traditional style, "You look really delectable in peasant garb." "Well, maybe. If you're going to wear that dress then I better get my semiformals." He grinned. "Hey, you suppose we'll annoy anyone by going into the Dragons' Inn in upscale-drag?" "I didn't see any semiformals in your closet." "They're in the 'bago. I haven't shifted all my stuff out of there." "Well, let's see 'em." <> WORKING READY <> Clothing fell from the air. The blond man dressed quickly, with some muttering and imprecation at the tight collar. "What's wrong?" "Oh, I've added some weight since I came here. That stone-golem. I haven't been this buffed-up for about three years, and the clothes are too tight." "Well, fix them, dummy." "Gotta get them (oof) ON first..." He sucked in, and fastened the pants. There was a fast flicker of colors, and things relaxed a bit--no longer too tight. "Looks very nice." "Shall we walk or gate?" "We'd better gate. I haven't 'garded this outfit yet." The sun was setting with the usual pyrotechnic display, when the door opened and two more-formally-attired-than-the-usual people stepped into the Dragons' Inn. Rowan looked over the bar at them, shrugged, and continued drying from the rack of freshly cleaned glasses he was stacking on the shelf below. They walked over to their usual table. Andrea and Sheryl were waiting, as expected: a dark-haired woman, olive-complected, wearing clothing colored to blend well into the shadows, and the traditional white-white-colored unicorn, albeit only about 3 and a quarter feet tall at the shoulder. They had been joined by a tall, husky, furry fellow of feline background, coloration somewhat tigerish, with bars and bands of black, white, and orange. "Andrea! How goes it," 'Raelf said, pulling up a chair at the far side of the table and holding it for ar'Elya. She sat, amused, and gave a careful slow look over the others at the table. 'Raelf crossed to the other side and sat, next to the big catman. "You don't mind if I sit, do you? Thanks." Andrea looked a little confused. "I thought you were here with a different woman yesterday." "Oh, no," ar'Elya smiled. "I'm a person of many facets, and I tend to change my appearance from time to time." "Well, Littlefair DID say you were magicians," Andrea said, doubtful, and toyed absently with one of the `tools' she'd picked up earlier. "Ask Sheryl. She knows." The unicorn just whickered and continued nibbling at the dried corn on the plate in front of her, then returned her gaze to Listener. Clearly the young unicorn was becoming infatuated. "Uh, Sheryl," 'Raelf stage-whispered, "I don't think he qualifies as virginal." She made a raspberry noise and continued watching. "Kids, what can you do with them," muttered Andrea. "Did you find anything?" She selected the grapple-arrow again--it was more seriously broken than she had thought, and she was trying to identify what needed fixing. "Just a sec. Hey, big guy, mind if I move the steins out of the way here?" Khyra the catman looked down at the comparatively fragile human with a toothy grin. He moved the pitcher and his beer stein aside, leaving the others for 'Raelf to deal with. "Go ahead. My name is Kyhra, by the way." "'Raelf. Glad to meet you, Kyhra. Not many folks from Kalnar around here." "You know my homeland?" Kyhra asked a little suspiciously, then shrugged. He'd had many dealings with mages before, and Jiriku had somehow known that upon their first meeting as well. The catman took a second look, then he extended a hand to shake. The blond man returned the grip, and proved surprisingly strong for someone the size of a Kalnarian cub. "Only been there once. Was a nice place, but I didn't have time to visit." "Too bad. I'd like to talk to you about it sometime." While they were speaking, the blond man had put a flat case out onto the table, something similar to a small book, only about ten by fourteen inches, and two inches thick, but covered in strange runes and patterns. He pulled a silk pouch out from inside his shirt--it was on a fine gold cord--and opened it, pulling out a blue stone, translucent and rounded, like a river-polished sapphire. "This is the recording I took of you and Sheryl earlier. Raye here did most of the in-depth work. My analysis program got caught in an infinite loop, doing part of the shape analysis." "Uhm, could you please repeat that in Common?" "It's easier to show you." He placed the sapphire onto a spot on the surface and muttered a few words in a very strange language. While 'Raelf was setting his equipment up, ar'Elya had spent a few moments looking at their companions. Kyhra felt his fur prickling under her gaze, and returned the stare. A momentary dizziness assailed him, looking into those sparkling black depths, and he was sure for a moment that he was looking into the eyes of a Kalnarese seeress. But the image of black fur and golden slitted eyes vanished, and she was just a human female again. "Milady? Is there aught I can do for you?" He felt the fur prickling again along the back of his neck, and reminded himself that this was probably another mage. "No, Kyhra, I was just admiring your coloration. Do you like the life of an adventurer?" "Aye, well enough, it serves to keep me fed and awake. What does milady do for entertainment, if I may be so bold?" "Please, call me ar'Elya. I dabble a bit in this and that. My real pleasure comes in watching those around me." "Hurm. I prefer action mysel'." At this point, the air between them was taken up by a glowing sphere of colors and twinkling lights. 'Raelf ran his fingers across the case in a sort of rapid tapping, rhythmic but not really musical, and the image of Sheryl appeared in the sphere, standing at bored attention. (Kyhra sipped off the end of his beer, and fidgeted. This wasn't necessarily stuff he was invited to see--he nodded to ar'Elya, who cocked her head, and smiled, rising. She crossed around the table, and the two of them went over to the small dance floor where four or five of the Rabble were beginning a chair-dance--a complicated foot and hand weaving that got its name because beginners needed to sit on a chair to do it right.) The image of Sheryl begae to glow, then became transparent, with fiery lines running throughout it in complex channels. The colors changed, and it was a solid image again, but then all the parts separated, muscle from bone from blood from tendon, and spun dizzyingly into little boxes, each box filled with runes. "So this is the basic biologicals. She reads as a Nexian Unicorn, but with a few minor differences. She's about seven points closer on the Karthak scale to the Unicorn fundamental harmonic, which just means," he grinned at Andrea's narrowed eyes, "that she has a few advantages. She's about at physical age forty-three, corresponds to a human age of 12 or so, which is just before puberty normally hits. She'll have a growth spurt later this year. If she was a normal Nexian 'Corn, she'd have to mate or bind with a virginal humanoid, or go through a second growth spurt and start feeling a strong aversion to places where humans dwell. But she'll probably just continue to grow instead, reaching her full adult size after about four years. It also looks like she'll feel the usual Unicorn territorial urges, want to find a forested area somewhere away from humans to guard, but her unusual background may allow her to choose a different path. Of course, if she wants she can choose to follow the Nexian Unicorn route, bond with a virginal type or mate with a stallion." Andrea frowned. Some of this was good news; she'd been afraid, after her first real success in finding Unicorn-lore, that Sheryl would be doomed to a solitary existance, or servitude to some airhead boy or girl. Even the Great Library of Generica had said much the same. "We did the full aura scans, and the karmographics, and came up with a bit of strangeness." (tap, tappity tappity) The image vanished, replaced by the glowing fiery patterns shown earlier. These separated into a half dozen different colored components, each with slightly different shapes and conformations. Each had a collection of runes hanging in the air beside it. "The red and blue ones are her magical and karmic auras. The magical flows are a little restricted, for a 'corn of her age, meaning she probably needs to use her powers more, or she might be developing some new ones. The karmic reading is a bit off the true innocent-animal, but it's well within tolerances for a creature which spends time around humans. The green is her mental web, and that's also typical of a 'corn her age and development, but see, there's these parts here," and two of the clustered swirls of green lines spun forward and larger, "inside the cognitive patterning. This first cluster is an abstractive mapping of her skills. She knows how to read, and she has speech and self-abstraction and memory typical of a humanoid, around 8 to 10 years of age--I'm not sure, but this COULD be a result of hanging out with you, especially if you have been teaching her reading. The second cluster, here, is her imago, the mental ties to the body. This is so perfect it's got to be unnatural--no Nexial creature short of a phoenix can have a self-image that matches that closely to its body, it's not normal here. Some kind of magic has to be behind it. So I looked, and there's some cross-ruffing into memory, and that's where the loop happened. The daemon which was set to analyzing this pattern just kept going in circles, here, at this point. I didn't want to examine the details of the memory itself without clearing it with Sheryl." The unicorn had hauled her front hooves up onto the table, careful not to scratch the surface, and was staring at the picture with large eyes. She wagged her head from side to side, barely not sticking her horn into 'Raelf's face (but he ducked). "I take it that's a `no' then. Well, my mate did some research, and she found some things over here, in the volitional crossings. There." The green whirls spun, and there was a small nest of sticks. Three of them were broken and gray, leading to a pattern that had been erased, and four quite hefty ones (three green and one black) led to a pattern that resembled a unicorn sculpted from glass. The black one had a sort of ...face? "What does that mean?" Andrea glared at the black image, wondering what it looked like that was making her so angry. It wasn't Raoh, certainly, but it had to be connected to that... Oh. It was HIM, Raykor, the bastard son of seven bastard sons, may his member rot off from the inside out. 'Raelf watched impassively as the emotions crossed Andrea's face. "The one who did it?" "Yes." "You know it took some pretty high powered magic to do this?" "Yes. I know." "Well, it looks like whatever Sheryl used to be, she definitely WANTS to be a unicorn now--ow!" 'Raelf ducked back away from the swinging horn as the young unicorn nodded her head vigorously up and down. "Oh." Andrea dropped the arrowhead. She hadn't considered this possibility. "Well, I think you ought to talk it over with her. Oh, and I ran the scans on you too. Nothing unusual, no curses, no ugly surprises. But you've got to be more careful who you `liberate' things from--you're picking up a bit of a smudge on the karma, and that's a majorly bad thing to have right now in this burg." "I'm sure I'll be very selective," she replied wryly--yeah, only bother to steal from those who have something worth stealing - around here, if someone had the goods, they probably at least got started with something underhanded. The image vanished as 'Raelf handed the sapphire to Andrea. "Don't give this to anyone else. When she gets a little bigger, feed it to her, it won't hurt her, it'll just dissolve. Unicorns in the wild eat raw gemstones for part of their diet, so don't worry." He picked up the non-functional grapnel. "Wow. Can I see?" "Sure. The crosspin's broken here, and the hook has been bent too many times, sure to snap if any weight's put on it." "Huh." There was a sort of `foomf' like a fire imploding into a forge, and the mage handed it back to her. "Looks good to me." Andrea examined the arrow suspiciously. As she inspected the repairs, ar'Elya and Kyhra returned to the table, as Listener began a new tune. "Rafe, if you're done playing with the lady's tools, could we order dinner?" 'Raelf shrugged. "Sure, why not?" He waved to Serene, and she came over and eyed Andrea curiously. Andrea returned the auburn-haired barmaid's gaze, noticing the small baby girl dozing in a sling across her chest. "I'd say you'll be having a glass of stout ale, eh?" Serene said to Andrea, whose jaw dropped. That had been exactly what she'd been about to order, having picked up a taste for the stuff during her training in the Selactican Thieve's Guild so long ago and far away. Serene nodded. "Thought so." She glanced over at Khyra, noticed that the large man-cat already had a drink, and then looked at 'Raelf and ar'Elya. "Your usuals?" she asked, and they nodded. "And what will you have for dinner?" "What would you recommend?" Andrea asked. "Well, the roast turkey is rather good tonight..." "That sounds good," Andrea said. "Indeed," Khyra said. "I'll take two. I've worked up quite an appetite getting here." "And a salad for 'Raelf," Serene decided. "In fact, you could probably all do with some vegetables." "But--" 'Raelf began weakly. "No 'buts.' You need to eat your greens..." Andrea shrugged and smiled. "Sounds good to me. Do you have any bleu cheese dressing?" Serena smiled. "Aye, that we do. And what will your wee friend here have?" She gestured to Sheryl. "Uh, she'll have a large salad, I think," Andrea said. Sheryl nodded, and Andrea said, "Yes, that's definitely what she'll be having." "All right, those will be here very shortly." Serene made a few notes on a pad she was carrying, then walked off behind the bar. "So, what do we talk about now?" 'Raelf asked. "The weather? It certainly is nice outside..." Andrea sighed. She'd come to a decision. "After all you've done for me, 'Raelf, you deserve to hear my story. You too, ar'Elya. And wait--" she said, stopping Khyra as he got up to go. "You can hear this too. After all, we've agreed to adventure together, have we not?" Khyra nodded. "Mmmm," he said, producing a noise deep in his throat. "Very well. I must admit, I would be interested to learn why a unicorn travels with a thief. I'll wager its a fascinating tale." "You may well find it so," Andrea said, taking a sip from the ale that Serene had just delivered. "As for myself, I lived it, so I can't properly say." Andrea took another sip from her ale, and began to spin her story. "A long time ago, in a town far, far away..." ADMIN: Flashback to follow. Stay tuned, true believers! -- Chris Meadows || "The Zetons look like beautiful CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || women, but their tissues are made CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || of paper, so they burn, like paper." CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || --Captain Harlock, Ziv's lame-o dub. MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Taredain departs Date: 31 Mar 1993 04:33:22 GMT Message-ID: <1pb6ui$s74@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> Effandir Taredain leaned back against the bar, considering. The danger ahead and the unknown abilities some of the party had in themselves were worth thought. Things could easily go either way, but apparently there was a lot of money invilved, and quite a few relatively innocent do-gooders. Travel also was a major factor. Visiting new lands has been a way of life for Effandir for almost fifteen years and never once had it not proved interesting. Always there would be something worth seeing or learning or exploiting. Each uniquely new place having no knowledge of the others, being too distant to care. Too distant for someone to follow. No. This was not how he wanted the rest of his life to be. He had chosen Generica and specifically this Inn as a place to reconsile himself with the enemies he had left behind. This group was just another indulgence that he could no longer afford. In silence, he walked out the door and began pacing Low City. [ADMIN: Sorry guys, it got a little too complicated and chaotic for my tastes.] Life is a Swamp, and above the Swamp, there if Fog. MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ºAUº Flashback: Andrea's Amazing Origin Story (Part 1 of 2) Date: Tue, 30 Mar 93 22:20:44 CST Message-ID: <16BA113A3C.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: [AU] Andrea Sheryl flashback origin Raykor Fujiko Phylus ADMIN: There are some new characters introduced herein. These are mostly NPCs; please ask my permission for their use. An exception is Raoh, who (as I said in my previous message) belongs to Christopher Motherway. New NPCs are: Father Phylus: Priest of Issek Raykor: Evil wizard, extremely powerful, one-time underling to Raoh Fujiko: Female thief and martial arts expert Father Sheraton: Head of the Temple of Issek in Selactica (high-level cleric) Guildmaster Robinson: Master of the Selactican Thieves' Guild Please email me if you want to use one or more of these characters. Thanks... Now, on with the story! Andrea could still remember that horrible day...if she just let herself remember, it was like she was ten years back in time, reliving that horrible incident without any power to change it... Andrea had been just a normal farm girl back then, the daughter of a moderately successful wheat farmer, whose responsibilities were to help with the annual harvest and to look after her younger sister, Sheryl. She'd led a relatively normal existance, except for her constant quest for knowledge. At the age of ten, she'd somehow managed to get a nearby cleric to teach her how to read, write, and work basic math. After that, as often as not, she'd be found in the hayloft reading a book or scroll she'd borrowed from somewhere when she was supposed to be working. At first her parents objected ("She's just a farm girl. She doesn't need an edjication, she needs to be working!") but they finally acquiesced. As for her younger, blonde-haired sister Sheryl, the two of them were nearly inseparable despite their age difference of about 6 years. They were constantly getting into trouble together (and Andrea's high intelligence showed her ways of getting into trouble that most kids her age wouldn't have dreamed of) and sometimes their parents had their hands full. One summer a travelling carnival came to down, and Andrea spent the ten copper pieces she'd saved from harvest work on two tiny color portraits of herself and Sheryl, which she put in a silver locket that her kindly cleric teacher had given her ("One of my adventuring apprentices donated it, and the Church has no use for such things..."). Little did Andrea know that this was to be the last normal summer she and Sheryl would ever have... That fall, Andrea was 14 and Sheryl about 8. It was harvest-time, and she and her parents were working in the wheat fields with their scythes, stacking up the sheaves of weat for later threshing, when it happened. There was a sound like a peal of thunder, and when Andrea looked up, there was a huge cloud of smoke coming from where the nearby village had used to be. "Quickly girls, you go and hide in the barn," Andrea's father instructed. "Your mother and I are going to go and see what has happened." As Andrea and Sheryl hid in the shed as instructed, their father strapped on a sword. The last thing Andrea's mother said before they left, the last thing they ever heard her say, was, "Always remember, that no matter what happens, we'll always love you." Then they were gone. After an hour had passed, Andrea was getting impatient. So cautioning Sheryl not to leave their hiding place, she ventured outside to see what was going on. As she ventured toward the village, she began to see that it, as well as all the neighbors' houses, lay in smouldering, smoking ruins. There were also bodies lying around--bodies of people she KNEW! Andrea clamped both hands over her mouth to keep from vomiting. Then Andrea heard the rhythmic sound of horse hoofbeats. Someone was coming! She dived into the bushes by the side of the road just in time...two horses rode up, stopped. From where she was, Andrea could only see the lower legs of the riders in their stirrups. One of the riders wore tanned deerskin boots; the other black leather. "Did you see something?" Black Leather asked. "Nooooo, don't think so," Tanned Deerskin replied. "Maybe it was a squirrel," Black Leather thought. "Or maybe another one of those snivelling townspeople. We've rounded up most of them...most of the surviving ones, anyway." "So what if one or two gets away? They'll have nowhere to go," Tanned Deerskin said. "My sentiments exactly. Let's go on to the camp and inspect the latest arrivals. Have we found anyone for our Master's experiments yet?" "No...none that is suitable..." As Andrea had been listening to their talking, she became aware of an itching in her nose. Then she realized that she was in the midst of a patch of wild dandelions, and their pollen was getting in her nose. She tried to grab her nose and stave off the sneeze she felt coming, but it was too late. KER-CHOO! "Hey, what was that?" Black Leather asked. "I think there's someone in these bushes!" Tan Deerskin replied. They climbed down off their horses. Andrea tried to escape but there was nowhere to run. She was captured, and taken to the enemy camp. There were only about fifteen people there--fifteen survivors, from a town of two hundred. One of them was Andrea's father, and as soon as she was released into the prison pen she ran up to him. "Father, father!" she yelled, embracing him. He embraced her in return, and said simply, "I know, girl." Looking at him, she could see that he was bruised and bloody in places, and his sword was gone. "Father, who are they?!" "The minions of an evil man named Raoh," Andrea's father said. "Not content with what he has, he's out to take over the entire land. And it looks like there's no one with the power to stop him." "Her! I want her!" The voice came from a man wearing magician's robes, standing a few feet away from the pen. He appeared to be in his forties, and his countenance, though free of malice, appeared incredibly evil. "Guards, get me the black-haired girl. I shall start with her, I think." "Daddy, who is that man?!" Andrea asked, fear showing in her eyes. "I don't wanna go with him!" "You won't have to," another man said, stepping in front of the two. It was Father Phylus, the cleric who'd taught Andrea reading and writing. "Raykor, I warn you, stay back." The mage laughed. "Your powers are no match for mine, old man." He waved an arm, and Phylus was knocked back twenty feet into the wall of the pen. He slid slowly to the ground, a rivulet of blood running out of the left corner of his mouth. "Now, guards." Though Andrea's father attempted to fight back, he was beaten down by the club-wielding guards. They grabbed Andrea by her arms and dragged her out to where the wizard was standing. "Ah, good. Release her." The guards let go and stepped back. Andrea tried to turn and run, but she found she could not--she was held firm by the gaze of the wizard. "What is your name, little girl?" the mage asked. Andrea found herself answering against her will, "An-drea." "Ah, good. That's a nice name, Andrea. My name is Raykor, and Raoh has put me in charge of this area while he goes on to conquer more. And he's said I can do my experiments here." He began making some gestures. "I wonder how you'll look if I...YOW!!!" The mage's control over Andrea had lapsed, and she gasped, staggering backward then falling over to land on her rear end on the ground. Andrea immediately turned over and started crawling, then running--she didn't know what happened, but she was going to take advantage of it. What had happened was that a fist-sized rock had hit Raykor in the side of the head, staggering him, breaking his concentration. As he began to bleed, he turned, vindictively looking for whoever had DARED to strike him. And he found her--it was Sheryl, who had left her hiding place and crept into camp, then thrown that stone to save her sister. But who was going to save her? Andrea, meanwhile, had run around the corner of the prison pen, and was panting with her fear and exertion. Then she tripped over something. Picking herself up off the ground, she saw what it was--a half-buried harvesting scythe, probably forgotten in last year's harvest. This area was farmland, after all. She reached down, pulled it out. It was half-rusted, but it was still sharp. While she didn't know how to use a sword or a bow, she had been taught from a very young age how to cut with a scythe. Now one of the guards had seen her and was coming after her. He didn't even have his club or sword out--how much trouble could a little girl be? Her back was to him, so he couldn't see the blade she held in her hands. As his footsteps got closer and closer, Andrea told herself, "You have to do this. Everyone's going to die if you don't." As the guard came up behind her, she swallowed hard, then spun around and swung the scythe as hard as she could at the guardsman's neck. Surprised, the man never had a chance. The blade embedded itself in his spinal column with a solid THUNK! Blood began spurting out of his severed arteries, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he collapsed. Andrea just stood there and retched. Then she got ahold of herself. She unstrapped the guard's dagger, club, and sword, and shoved them through the bars of the prison pen, followed by the keys on his belt. Her father, who had come up just in time to witness the guard's death, took them. "Thank you," he said. "Now get out of here!" Andrea turned to run, then saw--the mage had Sheryl! "You insignificant little WORM," Raykor said to the young girl, his voice oozing malice, as he held a cloth to his head to stop the bleeding. "I should KILL you for that..." Sheryl stood there, lower lip trembling, but she didn't cry. She had an inner strength that amazed even Andrea at times. "...but no, I don't think I will. No, I have a better idea. Yeeeessss. I shall make you wish you WERE dead. I shall CHANGE you. Not into a hideous creature like a dragon or a goblin...no, that's been done before. Noooo, I shall make you the most beautiful creature that ever was, so that you will be hunted the rest of your life. That will be a fitting sentence for you." Through Raykor's monologue, Andrea had been moving closer. Meanwhile, her father had unlocked the gate of the prison pen and he was leading the remaining villagers in a charge against the guards. Andrea was still about twenty feet away from the mage...could she distract him somehow? She looked around for a rock, but it was no good...the ground was plain, smooth dirt, not a pebble in sight. And Raykor was gesturing, pronouncing words that were never meant to be uttered by human tongue. The sky darkened, and thunder sounded, and even the guards were awed enough by this display of power to lose some ground. The mage raised his arms in supplication to the heavens, and the sky darkened still further. The earth shook. Lightning lanced down to strike Raykor, and he shaped it, bent it, and threw it at Sheryl. The static electricity played over the young girl, wrapped itself around her body and absorbed itself into her. Her hair stood on end, her spine arched, and her eyes glowed pure and blinding white. Then she collapsed to the ground, unconscious. The lightning vanished, and the skies returned to normal. Raykor cackled, then giggled. "Now all that remains is to see if it worked!" he said. Ignoring the danger, Andrea ran up to Sheryl. "Oh, no!" she cried, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Are you all right, Sheryl? Say something!" She looked up to see Raykor cackling. "Oh, no, she's not all right...but you'll find that out soon, won't you?" He giggled some more. "And that will be part of YOUR punishment as well. Hee hee. I'll look in on you from time to time, see how you're doing. Hee. But now, I think I shall leave before your stupid townspeople take it into their heads to try to kill me. Totally futile, of course. Hee hee hee. Farewell, Andrea. I'll be watching you!" He gestured, then disappeared. Five minutes later, it was all over. Raykor's guards had been defeated by the villagers, albeit barely, and only with the help of Father Phylus' healing magic. Only five townspeople still stood, Andrea's father and the cleric among them. "What are we going to do now?" her father asked, leaning against the outer wall of the pen as one of the other villagers bandaged his wounds. Father Phylus was busy binding the wounds of another of the townspeople. "We have to get the girls to Selactica, to the Temple of Issek there. Even though I am not of their faith, I can readily see that they have the most chance of being able to help young Sheryl." Andrea's father nodded. "Agreed. Let's--" He grunted with pain as he tried to stand back up. "Let's go." Fortunately they found a wagon that hadn't been destroyed along with the town, and a horse was running loose which they could catch and harness to it. As the wagon started moving out of town, a gentle rain began to fall. As the others rode in the front of the cart, Andrea and Sheryl huddled under a tarp in the back. As Andrea looked on in the dim light that filtered through from outside, she saw to her horror that something was happening to Sheryl! A fine white hair was appearing all over her body, a bump was pushing up through her forehead, and her fingers were growing shorter and melding together. Her eyes were growing larger, and the whites were disappearing as the pupils and iris grew. "Oh GODS, Sheryl," Andrea sobbed, "what's HAPPENING to you?!" Even as she watched, more hair appeared, Sheryl's blonde hair itself began to turn white, and the bump pushed out a little further. Then the next thing Andrea knew, there was a horribly loud BOOM!!!! then a CRRRRRRRRRASH!!!! and the entire wagon flipped over. When Andrea came to, she and Sheryl were lying in a puddle and the rain was falling into her face. She looked around, her head feeling as though someone had just been using it to break rocks. They were in a clearing, surrounded by forest. The acrid smell of smoke was in the air, along with a tinge of ozone. "Oh, gods," Andrea screamed, her gorge rising. "OH, GODS!!!" Lighting had struck a tree just as they had been passing beneath it. It had toppled over onto the front of the wagon, killing her father and two of the other men instantly. All she could see was an arm and a leg sticking out from the ruins of the wagon, with blood slowly seeping out to color the nearest puddles a light pink. As for the other two men, one of them had been knocked off and apparently trampled underfoot by the horses in their hurry to get away. He was very obviously and graphically dead. But Father Phylus was nowhere to be found. Andrea didn't know what to do, so she just sat there crying. In the space of a few hours, her entire life had been taken away. Both parents gone, her entire village destroyed, her sister magically cursed, cold and alone in the middle of a muddy road. Then Andrea's crying stopped as she heard a groan from behind her. She turned. It was Father Phylus! He had apparently been thrown off the wagon by the impact of the tree, and briefly stunned by his impact with the ground. Andrea hurried over to help him up. He groaned. "I'm not as young as I used to be..." Then he saw Andrea's face. "What is it, child? Your father--?" He saw the wreckage of the wagon, and paled. "This is a truly evil day," the aging cleric sighed. "Help me stand, girl. The least I can do is give them the last rites." So Andrea helped Phylus hobble over to the wreckage of the wagon. As he saw Sheryl, he gasped and made the Issekian equivalent to the Christian sign of the cross. The changes had progressed further, drawing the girl's little form into an eerie contortion, looking halfway between anthropoid and--equine? The bump in her head was now several inches long, and her body completely covered by white hair or fur. "Oh, Issek, what has been done to this one?" he breathed. "I had thought I had seen the worst that evil could do, but I guess I was sadly mistaken." He sighed. "Well, there's nothing I can do for her right now. Help me over to the wagon." Andrea did. As Father Phylus dragged the corpse of the horse-trampled man over to the wagon, Andrea tried to ignore him by looking at the pile of wood instead. "Do you think I--should I--?" He shook his head. "No, girl. Issek allows cremation [ADMIN: At least, I HOPE he does], and I think that in this case it would be better that way. Let this be their funeral pyre." He stood over the wreckage and raised his arms in supplication and began the Issek Last Rites. Andrea watched, tears in her eyes, sitting with the still-unconscious Sheryl. "Oh, Sheryl, what are we going to do now?" she said. As Phylus came to the end of the rites, he pulled out his tinderbox and set fire to a part of the wagon sheltered by the rest from the rain. It spread with almost preternatural swiftness, and soon the entire pile of wood was ablaze. Andrea and Father Phylus stood by it, watching. Then they heard the clip-clop of hooves coming up the road. Andrea looked around for cover and was about to bolt for a nearby tree, but Phylus held her arm to stop her. "Wait," he said. "It is only one horse, and its rider might be friendly. Besides, I'm too old and frail to run now." So the rider came around the bend into the open. Andrea's first impression was of a dark rider on a dark horse. Looking closer, she could see that the horse was completely black with a white star. Its mane had been braided, and it was well-shod--it seemed very well cared for. The saddle and bridle were plain leather, the only ornamentation being a gold medallion on the bridle in the middle of the horse's forehead. There was a sheath on the saddle holding a bastard sword, and two shorter swords were strapped across the rider's back. In addition to the two swords, there were daggers in each boot and a quiver strapped to each leg. The rider wore dark clothes--leather breeches and jerkin, and a rather plain helm with a visor that was currently down. The rider looked from right to left, pulled up the horse (which snorted nervously at the fire), and stepped down, making almost no sound. Then the rider reached up to the helmet and pulled it off, shaking out shoulder-length golden locks, and Andrea realized that she was female. She had a slight Oriental cast, and she appeared to be in her mid-to-late twenties or early thirties. "That fire is going to bring every creature for ten miles," she said. Phylus shrugged. "It couldn't be helped. It is a funeral pyre for four brave men from the village up the road. Now we, alas, are the only survivors, and that girl has been cursed by an evil mage." The rider looked at Sheryl. "That's a girl?" she gasped. "It's certainly like nothing I've ever seen." Andrea started to sob. Phylus put his arm around her. "There, there, girl. It'll be all right..." He turned to the rider. "We need to get to Selactica. Can you help us?" The woman sighed. "My name's Fujiko. I've been a number of things, but just recently I was a lady spy. I was, until the people I was spying for were killed by a man called Raoh." Andrea tried to stop sobbing. "He's the man--" she got out, "--the man who destroyed our village!" Fujiko shook her head, a grim expression on her face. "That tears it. I'll help you." She helped Father Phylus up into the saddle of the horse, then laid Sheryl across the saddle in front of him like a sack of potatoes. Then she lifted Andrea up onto its hindquarters and put the reins over the horse's head. "Come on, Wolf, let's get out of here before trouble comes." She led him nervously around the smouldering fire, then they walked on out of the clearing. As they rode along, the rhythm of the horse's steps proved hypnotic and lulling to Andrea, and after the day's events, she was only too ready to fall asleep. And fall asleep she did, leaning forward against Father Phylus's comforting back. The next thing she knew was when she woke up as they were making camp for the night and Fujiko was helping her down from the horse. Andrea looked around...this didn't look like her bedroom and she was horribly stiff...Then the events of the past day came rushing back and she emitted a little cry. "Sheryl--how is Sheryl?!" "I think you'd better have a look at this, kid," she said, lifting Sheryl down from the horse. Andrea and Father Phylus gasped, and Father Phylus once again crossed himself. "Oh, ISSEK!" he breathed. "She's--she's--!" Sheryl was now a small, white unicorn, about nine hands high at the withers. She was not the "classic" unicorn, per se, but the equine-with-horn kind, and she was beautiful in the way that only a unicorn can be--a symbol of purity that almost seemed to shine with its own inner light. Andrea sobbed, both at its beauty and the fact that it had been her sister. "Gods, Sheryl..." she said, then trailed off. Now Sheryl's eyes blinked open, and she got shakily to her feet. She looked around, taking in her surroundings, and Andrea just had to run over to her. "Sheryl...Sheryl...can you understand me? Can you?" Sheryl looked at Andrea and tried to say, "Of course I can!" but only a whinny came out. She tried again, but again only managed to whinny. "What's wrong with me?!" she tried to scream, but only succeeded in whinnying highly and shrilly. Fujiko tossed something over to Andrea, who barely managed to catch it out of midair. It was a small hand-mirror. Andrea gasped, half-sobbed, and turned it so that Sheryl could see herself. When she did, she rolled her eyes until the whites showed, reared, then turned and tried to run for the forest. Fujiko put her fingers in her mouth and whistled shrilly. Wolf took the signal, galloping over and heading Sheryl off before she could get anywhere. Andrea ran over to Sheryl and put her arms around her. "Sheryl! Don't run away! You mustn't!" Father Phylus walked over too. "Don't worry, girl," he said to the unicorn. "We're going to the Temple of Issek in Selactica. The men of my faith are skilled at reversing all sorts of ailments, including magical malaise. Surely one of them will be able to help you." This seemed to calm Sheryl, and together they walked back to where Fujiko was building a small, smokeless fire. "This does put a whole new face on things," Fujiko remarked, sitting back from the cozy blaze. "Travelling with a 'corn is going to be difficult. You know how valuable to black magicians their horns are, and the fact that this one used to be your little sister doesn't make any difference in that." Andrea gasped, putting her hands over her mouth. "But you'll help protect her, won't you?" "Up to a point," Fujiko said. "Once you're inside that temple, you're on your own." "We shouldn't need protection after that," Phylus said. "The Fathers..." Fujiko waved this aside. "Oh, I know what you said about your priests." She lowered her voice and leaned close so Sheryl wouldn't hear. "But you and I both know that there may not be a hell of a lot your Fathers can do. And what then? You can't protect them forever." Andrea gasped. "Then what can we do?" "Father Phylus, you may not like this suggestion, but here's what I recommend." She turned to Andrea. "Apprentice yourself to the Selactican Thieves' Guild in exchange for protection for Sheryl. It will work well for both of you--the Guild will gain prestige from having a unicorn under its roof, she will be protected extremely well (the Guild in Selactica is more powerful even than its militia), and you will pick up some useful talents in Guild training. You seem to me to be a reasonably bright kid." Father Phylus opened and closed his mouth. "That's blackmail!" he said. "Out of the question!" Fujiko shook her head. "No it's not...I'm just making a suggestion. A very eminently reasonable one, I might add." "The girl wouldn't steal. That's immoral!" Phylus said. "I suggest you leave that choice up to her," Fujiko suggested. "Anyway, we can table the discussion until after you see the clerics. I don't know what will happen. Neither do you. We'll just have to wait and see, okay?" Sheryl had wandered off by herself, away from the campfire, to where she could consider the situation. She stepped uncertainly, for she wasn't used to being a unicorn and actually trotting around as one was strange. She felt hungry, but the thought of eating human food (especially MEAT) made her feel slightly queasy. She stood there wondering what to do, and then noticed that Wolf had walked up beside her. The big, black horse put his head down to the ground and ripped off a mouthful of grass, then chewed it placidly. Sheryl, uncertainly, followed his example, and found, to her surprise, that grass actually tasted GOOD. She wondered why she'd never thought of eating grass before. She was so absorbed in this unique new experience that she forgot to worry, and was soon grazing like an old hand (hoof?). That night, Andrea sat awake a long time, watching Sheryl graze. "She's a unicorn," Andrea said, for perhaps the twentieth time that night. "I guess that's what Raykor meant by making her 'the most beautiful creature possible,' so that she would be 'hunted the rest of her life.' What am I going to do?" Fujiko came up behind her. "Get some sleep, it's going to be a long day tomorrow." "I'm not tired," Andrea said. "I had a long nap today, remember?" She just sat there by the dying embers of the fire, and Fujiko sat with her, sensing the comfort she needed. Andrea at last broke the silence. "Fujiko...what is it like, being a thief?" Fujiko got up and moved around to where Andrea was partially facing her. "It's great," she said. "One of the most exciting jobs in all the worlds." Her eyes stared off into the distance as she recalled some thrilling adventures. "It's a job about secrets, about finding out others' secrets. Money isn't everything, though it does pay the bills. The real commodity is what others know, and what they don't want you to know. You can go far with the right kind of information." "If I were going to become an apprentice, how long would it take? What would I learn?" In spite of herself, Andrea's hunger for knowledge was leading her on. Fujiko shrugged. "For me, it was three years. For you...who knows? You seem bright enough to me--you might learn even faster. And you would learn all the tricks of the thieves' trade--fighting, picking locks and pockets, climbing walls and opening windows--everything a thief needs to know. Everything YOU would need, to protect your sister Sheryl while at the same time earning a decent living for yourself." Andrea hesitated. "But--but isn't stealing wrong?" Fujiko shook her head. "Not always." "But how can you tell?" Andrea pressed. "Several ways. If you really need the money, or if the person whom you'd be stealing from doesn't, or any combination of the two, it's all right. If it's in a good cause, it's all right. If the one you're stealing from deserves it, then it's right. The only way that it ever could be wrong would be for greed alone." "But--but I don't know if Issek would--" "Forget Issek, child, there are other gods in the sky," Fujiko said, quoting a popular truism oft used after failed courtships. Andrea was thunderstruck--she'd grown up worshipping Issek, after all. "But--" "Oh, hush, girl," Fujiko said. "For all you know, Issek might smile on your ventures as long as they're in a good cause. You don't HAVE to steal from anybody, y'know. Just go through the training and pay your yearly dues." Andrea sat there, silent, for a few minutes, just watching Sheryl. The little unicorn looked so peaceful...Finally Andrea said, "Tell me about the Guild." Fujiko nodded. "Oh, they're wonderful," she said. "The best source of aid a thief could ever have. They're famous for the services they perform for their members. They'll provide a roof over your head, warm food, and a place to sleep. If you get in trouble, they'll get you out. You can buy equipment, fence stolen goods, get magical aid there. And..." Fujiko paused for emphasis "you can trade information there. It's an amazing place, like a great big surrogate family for thieves." Unfortunately, the word "family" reminded Andrea that she'd just lost all of her family. She looked over at Sheryl, sighed, and pulled out the silver locket that held the pictures of herself and her sister. She looked at the pictures, and felt the tears start to come. She closed the locket and clutched it tight, and bit her tongue to stop from crying. The time for crying was over, she told herself. It was time for firm resolve, and for planning what she was going to do. She had her whole life ahead of her, and it was looking rather empty without her family. Fujiko watched Andrea silently, surreptitiously wiping away the tear that glittered in her own eye from recalling when she'd been told that her parents had been killed by an orcish raiding party so many years before. She really wanted to help this girl, the way that she had been helped herself after that tragic time. But that old fool of a cleric Father Phylus was getting in the way! Well, perhaps after they got to Selactica... Finally Andrea got tired and went to bed. She slept restlessly for the first few hours, then she woke up and noticed Sheryl lying curled up on the ground beside her, her back against Andrea's. After that she slept better, somehow calmed by the close presence of the magical creature who was also her sister. The next day they set out once more. Andrea declined to ride this time, choosing instead to walk with Sheryl. Sheryl seemed quite upbeat today, for some reason--she was running ahead and capering all around, causing Wolf to snort, undoubtedly in disgust, at her antics. "Hey, what's gotten into you?" Andrea asked. Sheryl just nickered playfully in response. Fujiko chuckled. "I'd say that she's decided as long as she's going to be a unicorn, she might as well have a good time at it." All three of the humans had a good laugh at that, and they proceeded on their way to Selactica. On the way, Andrea and Fujiko had a chance to talk further (though Father Phylus didn't necessarily approve, he knew that he had asked for her help and had to take the bad along with the good). They discussed many things, but Fujiko tried to keep the discussion to neutral subjects. She actually didn't have any trouble in that respect, since Andrea mainly wanted to know all she could about unicorns. This was a subject Father Phylus could provide some input on as well. "Basically all _I_ know about unicorns is that their horns are much sought after as components for spells, and they're said to be able to purify water," Fujiko said. "There's also the old legend about their being attracted to virgins or something, but I tend to disbelieve that. Mainly because our friend here hardly has any reservations toward approaching me. Do ya, girl?" Sheryl nickered and showed that she had absolutely no reluctance at all to being approached by the lady thief and given a good scratch behind the ears. Then she pranced on ahead again, and Andrea was torn between running after her to play and staying to listen to the discussion. "It is sometimes hard to tell myth from fact in matters like this, where the principals of the legend have not been, ahem, available for close scrutiny," Father Phylus admitted. "Personally, I tend to see the virginity idea as a sort of a metaphor for purity of heart, or perhaps one's own intentions. After all, if it were true, it would raise some interesting questions--such as whether virginity is defined as actual--er, um, or just--ahem." Phylus had been getting a little carried away before remembering that there was a child present. Andrea was disappointed. She was FOURTEEN, for gods' sake, her body was changing, and no one had told her precisely what she was supposed to DO with it. She sighed. One of these days, though, someone would let it slip. Sooner or later. Or maybe she just hadn't found the right book yet... Fujiko just nodded. "I take your meaning," she said. "Tell us, do you know of any other powers unicorns are said to possess?" "One ascribed ability is that of teleportation once per day. I've heard some people claim that they actually saw it. Of course, there's no way of knowing if our Sheryl actually has any of these powers..." However, later that day they came to a small stream. It was full of silt caused by the recent rain. Sheryl walked up to it, put her nose to the water. "Hey, Sheryl, don't drink that!" Andrea said. "That's all filthy!" But then Sheryl dipped her horn into the water, and there was an odd sort of sparkling disturbance in it. The shimmering spread outward, and before she knew it, the stream was as clear as glass. "Wow!" Andrea said. "Sheryl, did you see what you just did?!" Sheryl nodded and nickered happily before putting her head down to drink from it. Andrea did likewise, and found it to be the purest, most delicious-tasting water she'd ever sampled. "What is--well I'll be..." It was Fujiko, leading Wolf with Father Phylus sitting on his back. "Did she just--?" "Yes, she did!" Andrea said proudly. "If she has to be a unicorn, it's at least a consolation to know that she's the real thing, not just an imitation." She hugged Sheryl, who snorted, tossed her head, and then proceeded to roll in the creek, getting all wet. Everyone had a good laugh at this, then they continued onward. -- Chris Meadows || "The Zetons look like beautiful CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || women, but their tissues are made CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || of paper, so they burn, like paper." CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || --Captain Harlock, Ziv's lame-o dub. MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] Flashback: Andrea's Amazing Origin Story (Part 2 of 2) Date: Tue, 30 Mar 93 22:29:06 CST Message-ID: <16BA113C32.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: Andrea Sheryl origin [AU] Fujiko Phylus Robinson Selactica The rest of the journey passed uneventfully. Sheryl got better at being a unicorn, and Andrea and Fujiko became very close friends. Fujiko was now Andrea's surrogate family, the big sister she never had, and she felt much the same way about Andrea, to her consternation. "You can't afford to get attached to this kid," she told herself. "If you do, sooner or later you always regret it..." But she did anyway. On the morning of the third day they'd been together, Selactica appeared on the horizon. By midafternoon, they had reached the city. Andrea was amazed! She'd never seen anything like this before--the largest human settlement she'd ever been to in her life had been her own small village. All she could do was stare and stare, trying to take it all in. There were cobbled streets, ramshackle old buildings with--they actually had 3 or 4 stories! There were dozens of people in the streets and even more animals. In the distance was some sort of seaport or riverport--she could smell the salt air on the breeze. And there were other buildings, too--pubs, inns, even open markets. The melange of smells was astounding! Fujiko looked around at all the people warily, then reached down to her belt and removed the sheathed dagger clipped to it. "Here," she said to Andrea, "put this on your belt. I should have given this to you sooner." "What?! What are you doing!" Father Phylus said, gripping the staff he'd cut earlier in the forest and now used as a combination walking stick and crutch. "You can't give the girl a weapon!" "I can, and I am," Fujiko replied calmly. "No one should be in this city without some means of self-defense. Especially a young girl with a unicorn to look after." Phylus backed down and conceded the point, while Andrea looked proudly at her new weapon. Sheryl stuck very close to Wolf, who she knew would protect her. With Wolf on her left, and Fujiko and Andrea on her right, she felt very safe indeed. But soon Fujiko had to leave Wolf at a stable, and they continued on into town on foot. It wasn't far before they had some trouble. They were in one of the town's open squares when it happened. Andrea didn't notice the start of it, she just noticed when Fujiko suddenly had her twin blades out and was dealing death with them. Actually they weren't twins, exactly, but Andrea couldn't tell that without getting a chance to examine them. They were a Daisho, katana and wakizashi. The katana was longer than the wakizashi; together they were a set of weapons often used by samurai and other warriors from the Orient. In the right hands, they could be very, very deadly. And Fujiko was apparently a master of the art. She used her katana to block a blade on the downswing from the left, then swung the wakizashi in a viscious arc that disembowelled an attacker on the right. She turned to face the assailant on the left, then lashed out with her left foot, sending another man reeling back against a wall. In the room directly above that man, a matronly middle-aged woman was doing some redecorating. She happened to be next to the window, holding a rather large potted plant. She looked from the plant she was holding, down to the stunned rogue leaning against the wall, back to the plant again, then looked away and "accidentally" let the plant go. CRASH! The stunned thug was now an extremely unconscious one. The woman walked away from the window, whistling off-key in a manner which suggested exaggerated innocence. Meanwhile Andrea and Father Phylus stood on either side of Sheryl, with weapons at the ready. Father Phylus bashed with his staff at any of the assailants who happened to get within range, and Andrea slashed out with her dagger (not actually hitting anyone, but at least keeping them far enough back to be out of harm's way until Fujiko could dispose of them). Sheryl just stood there looking rather scared. Fujiko used both blades to block a longsword slash, then bound the sword and wrenched it out of the man's hands. He drew a dagger and threw it, but Fujiko nimbly ducked out of the way and it embedded itself in the wall behind her, above the unconscious thug with the shattered pot, dirt, and plant on his head. She spun around and delivered a roundhouse kick to the guy's face, shattering his jaw and knocking him back, down, and out. Fujiko continued her spin, dropping her wakizashi, producing a dagger, and throwing it. It tumbled over exactly once and embedded itself quite neatly in the throat of a man who had been sneaking up on Father Phylus from outside his field of vision. She then dropped to her knees (avoiding a sweeping cut from a bastard sword that would have left her shorter by a head), caught her wakizashi before it hit the ground, and sliced a man's legs out from under him. Quite soon, the fight was over. About ten men lay leaking blood into the street, with swords and knives and assorted body parts lying everywhere. Fujiko wiped her swords and dagger on a dead man's clothes before resheathing them. "Who were they?" Father Phylus asked. "Just a bunch of young toughs who saw an opportunity for profit," Fujiko replied bitterly. She turned to Father Phylus. "See what she'll be up against?" she asked. "She'd be wise to take my suggestion." "The Temple of Issek is only a short ways from here," Father Phylus said. "We'll be safe there." "But you can't stay in that temple forever," Fujiko retorted. "We won't HAVE to," Phylus said, getting a bit angry. "Just until they cure Sheryl!" Fujiko nodded. "Right. Whatever you say..." She turned to Andrea. "Are you and Sheryl all right?" she asked. Andrea was still staring goggle-eyed at all the carnage around her. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?!" she asked. "An ancient master taught me," she said. "And I had some help from a fellow pupil. His name was Goemon." She reached out and tapped Andrea's dagger, which was back in its sheath without being bloodied. "You didn't do so badly yourself," she said. "But I didn't hit anybody," Andrea said, puzzled. "That's not the point. You kept them back, which was good. And the way you held the blade...you held it correctly without being told how. I think you may have a natural potential for this kind of thing." "Really?" Andrea asked. "Really," Fujiko nodded. "But come on. Let's get out of here before people start coming." As the three humans and one unicorn made their way out of the square, that matronly woman from the upstairs apartment came creeping out to collect her plant for repotting, and she pulled out the dagger from the wall while she was at it. THIS time she would have something really EXCITING to tell the members of the Garden Club. "Yes, a UNICORN!" she would say. "And it was THIS VERY PLANT! And THIS VERY DAGGER!" This was guaranteed to make her the toast of the club for a good long time! Andrea wasn't too impressed with the Temple of Issek from the outside. All these years she'd expected a huge cathedral, with gleaming spires and stained-glass windows, all the fancy stuff that she'd so often read about in the books she'd been able to get her hands on. But all it really was was a small stone building, with a couple of stained glass windows above the door. "This is it?" Andrea asked. Father Phylus nodded. "It is better to spend money on healing the infirm than to use it up on a handsome building." Fujiko shrugged. "If you say so. Now me, I've never had any problems with spending money..." She trailed off as Father Phylus glared at her. They walked inside, Father Phylus in the lead, Andrea and Sheryl behind him, and Fujiko bringing up the rear. On the inside, the decor was that of a church--very somber, very rigorous. There were pews here, and an altar at the head of the aisle between them. Sheryl, who had been prancing along on the city streets outside, was very subdued in here...something in the air seemed to DEMAND it. No sooner had they advanced halfway up the aisle, than a man dressed in the robes of a priest came running up, waving his arms and quite startling Sheryl, who looked like she was about to spook. "No animals in the church!" the man yelled. Father Phylus dropped his staff so that it rested across the aisle on a pair of pews, and the man was brought up short with an OOF! as he ran right into it. "Not so fast, brother," Phylus said calmly. "Take a closer look." The man did, and his expression of anger changed to one of amazement. "A unicorn--!" Father Phylus nodded. "Indeed. Only this little one is not really a unicorn; she has been cursed to it." He removed the staff, and the priest stood up. "I see, I see...well, now, we'll have to see what we can do." He walked back up the aisle. "I think we'll need Father Sheraton for this." He genuflected at the altar, turned right, and entered a small door leading out of the room. "Who is this Father Sheraton?" Andrea asked. Sheryl snorted, looking around. She seemed a little bit scared. "He is the highest priest of Issek in the region," Father Phylus breathed. "If anyone can help Sheryl, it will be him." For a moment, Andrea's hope surged, but then she said, "But what if Father Sheraton can't help her? What then?" "Hush, child," Father Phylus said. "We must have faith." Fujiko snorted, but didn't make any comments. The priest came back out the door. "Father Sheraton has agreed to see you. Follow me to his private chambers." Father Sheraton's chambers were not quite so large as to be called spacious, yet they were not quite cramped, either. Father Sheraton sat behind a table that was the sole piece of furniture in the room. A few dozen dusty books were stacked on the table, and there were a few scrolls lying around too. Father Sheraton was an elderly man. His robes were much fancier than those of the lesser priest who had conducted them in, and he appeared to be very old. Currently he was paging through one of the old books on his desk, then he looked up. "Ah, welcome. Let me see the problem." Sheryl stepped forward, a bit uncertainly. Father Sheraton adjusted the half-glasses that rested on his nose and peered through them at the unicorn. "Ah, I see." He chanted some words, held up a holy symbol. "O Issek, let me DIAGNOSE this problem that I might heal it for Your further glory..." Sheryl was surrounded by a soft golden glow that spread outward from the holy symbol. Sheraton closed his eyes, muttered something under his breath and the glow darkened to ruby. Sheryl's eyes flashed, and sparks started coming off of her hooves and horn. Sheraton opened his eyes and gestured. The glow faded. Sheryl sat down on her rump, eyes slightly unfocused. Sheraton shook his head slowly. "This must be a very powerful curse...to all my examination, she seems a perfectly normal unicorn." Andrea's breath caught, and she felt weak. She leaned against Fujiko for support. "Is there nothing you can do, Father?" Fujiko asked. "Hold on, let me try one more thing." Sheraton picked up another tome, blew dust off of it, and flipped through. "Ah, yes." He held up the symbol of Issek, chanted in some ancient language. A burgundy glow surrounded Sheryl, and then she was englobed by a shower of sparks. As the sparks faded, Sheraton turned a little pale from the exertion and promptly sat down. "Father, are you all right?" Father Phylus asked, going to the man's side. Sheraton waved him away. "Oh, I'm fine, fine, just a little weak is all. And I have managed to determine the nature of the curse." He shook his head. "I'm afraid there's nothing I can do." "What?!" Father Phylus asked, shocked. Andrea turned and buried her face in Fujiko's shoulder and started to cry. Fujiko embraced her and said, "There, there...it'll be all right. Let's hear what the good Father has to say." Andrea tried to control her sobbing and to some extent succeeded. "What do you mean, Father? Why can't you help her?" Phylus asked. Sheraton continued to shake his head. "Whoever or whatever did this must have been using an Artifact of some sort--the magic's much too strong for even Issek's healing powers." Andrea sobbed, "An Artifact?!" She'd read tales of objects such as these--extremely powerful magical or clerical items created by gods or demons that could be used for very great mischief in the wrong hands. Father Sheraton nodded. "Indeed. It would take a very powerful magician indeed to change her back, I'm afraid." Seeing Andrea start crying, he said, "Don't worry...we'll find a way, somehow..." This was little comfort to Andrea, however. Father Phylus showed Andrea a room in which she and Sheryl could stay for the time being. After he left, there was a knock on the door. It was Fujiko. "Can I come in?" she asked. Andrea sniffled. "Sure..." Fujiko sat down next to Andrea on the plain cot. "It's not the end of the world, you know." "What do you MEAN it's not?!" Andrea cried angrily. "My parents are dead, my village was destroyed, and my younger sister is a unicorn! All that I've ever known is gone." "You'll have to make a new life," Fujiko said. "Look, Sheryl doesn't seem all that unhappy." She pointed to Sheryl, who was currently sniffing at the rug at the foot of the bed. She looked up and whinnied, nodding vigorously. "I bet she hasn't legitimately been able to play around this much since she was 4 or 5." Andrea smiled through her tears. "Yes, she always did like to play..." "As long as she isn't unhappy, why worry about it?" Fujiko asked. "Just go with it. You have the rest of your lives in which to look for a cure. And the Thieves' Guild knows of many powerful magicians..." Andrea looked up. "They do?" Fujiko nodded. "Consider my offer. Here." She pulled a ring off one of her fingers and slipped it onto Andrea's. It was a beautiful gold ring inlaid with a large sapphire. "This is a little token of a favor the Guildmaster of this town owes me. Show it to anyone who tries to attack you and they should stop, recognizing the seal. Show it to any guardsman and he should know just where to take you. If they don't stop, then say the word FLASHBLIND." "Fla--" Andrea began, but Fujiko clapped a hand over her mouth. "Not NOW, silly! If you say that word, the ring will emit an extremely bright flash of light and blind your attackers so you can get away. Be sure to close your eyes before you use it." Andrea nodded. "It's magic?" "Yes, kid. It's magic. And it should get you safely to the Thieves' Guild." Fujiko clapped her on the shoulder. "I have to leave now. I'll be waiting at the Guild for you." "What--what if I don't come?" Andrea asked uncertainly. "Then I'll get it back from you later." Fujiko drew up close to Andrea. "I've told you all about the Guild. Only YOU can decide what's best for you, though. You know where I'll be." She walked over to the window, opened it, looked outside. "Bye! She jumped through the window. Andrea ran over to it and looked outside, all around, but she was gone. Later that night, Andrea decided to go downstairs to use the facilities. As she passed through the hall, she heard voices coming from behind a door that was ajar a crack. She was about to pass on by, but then she heard that one of the voices belonged to Father Phylus! Knowing that she shouldn't be eavesdropping, yet still curious, she stopped to listen. "--can't do anything about the curse, so what do you recommend?" "I just don't know." The other voice was Father Sheraton's. "I think it would be best for the girl if we sent her and the unicorn to a secluded abbey. I know just the spot, it's just over the moutains to the north." "Do you think we should?" "Oh, definitely, absolutely. There she'll be safe from those who would try to kill her for the 'corn--and she could get the kind of education a young lady deserves." Andrea couldn't listen any longer. They were talking about sending her to a PRISON! She would not be corralled into that kind of life, and neither would Sheryl. She was going to choose her own fate, not let it be chosen for her by a couple of old men! Andrea ran back up the stairs to her and Sheryl's room. She nudged the sleeping 'corn. "Hey! Sheryl, wake up! We gotta get outta here!" Sheryl shook her head, and opened one eye sleepily. She snorted. Obviously she did NOT want to go ANYWHERE at this hour. "Come on, Sheryl! We gotta go! If we don't get out of here, they're going to stick us in an abbey!" Sheryl got to her feet. She shook her head drowsily. Whatever Andrea wanted, fine, she'd do it...but she'd just BETTER get some sleep afterward! Andrea and Sheryl crept silently down the stairs. Obviously negotiating the stairs was harder for Sheryl than for Andrea--once Sheryl stumbled and almost fell, but Andrea caught her in time. Once they were on the ground level, it was relatively simple to sneak out of the church. Then they were outside. It was pretty dark--there were street lanterns and such, but these only provided dim pools of illumination in the otherwise black night. Andrea and Sheryl started walking down the street, Andrea fervently wishing Sheryl's color were anything but white and easy to spot. She just KNEW that they were going to run into trouble. And sure enough, before they had gone too far three lanky teens stepped out in front of her. They held knives, and the leader had a shortsword. "Well, I'll be damned," the leader said. "What have we here...a girl and a--what the hell, that thing's a unicorn!" "Do you know how much money those things are worth?!" the second one asked. Andrea held up her hand with the ring on it. "See this? Recognize it?" The three punks looked at each other. "What do you think?" the first one asked the others. "That's the Guildmaster's seal." "He doesn't have to know..." the third one said. "We can dump it in the river..." "All right, let's do it, then..." Andrea, sensing trouble, whispered to Sheryl, "Close your eyes now! I'm going to do something." Sheryl's eyes blinked tightly shut, and Andrea held the ring forward, covered her own eyes, and yelled, "FLASHBLIND!" There was a bright flash, visible even through Andrea's hand. "I can't see!" the leader yelled. "They blinded me! They blinded me!" The others were similarly affected. "Now, Sheryl!" Andrea said. "Run through!" They dashed past the blinded punks and down the street--and ran right into the arms of a town guardsman who had been attracted by the bright flash and was coming to see what was the matter. "Well, now, what's all this?" the man said in a thick Irish brogue. He fingered his nightstick. "What's going on--Oho, I see. You're wearing the Guildmaster's ring! And those young toughs just tried to mug you..." Andrea nodded. "They did, sir, they did! Can you take me to the Guild?" "Why now sure I can, little lassie. Well, now, and what's this? Is that a unicorn I'm seeing?" Sheryl nodded, sensing that this man could be trusted. She nickered softly as he reached down to pat her neck. "Well, now lassies, I'll see that you reach the Guild safely. And I think the Guildmaster himself is going to want to hear about this." He smiled. "Now you just follow me. I know right where you need to be going." The guardsman led them through several streets and back alleys for the next ten minutes or so. He was never challenged, though there were some people who looked greatly interested in the nature of the creature following him. At last they reached a large, nondescript building, with a sturdy, solid wooden door in front of it. The guardsman pounded on it with his baton. "Open up! Open up, I tell you!" A rectangular panel set in the door at eye level slid open and a pair of eyes appeared. "And what is the password?" a rough voice asked. The guardsman rolled his eyes. "'Walt sent me.' Now are you going to open up--?" The door swung slowly inward, and the rest of the man behind the door was revealed. He was a tall and thick individual, who probably moonlighted as an enforcer in his spare time. "Whaddaya want, copper?" The guardsman lifted Andrea's hand, with the ring on it. "I think the Guildmaster will be wanting to see this girl, don't you?" Just then Fujiko came running up, dagger in hand. "What--Andrea! I didn't expect to see you this soon! Come in, come in...I'll vouch for her." That last comment was directed at the thug, who stood their scratching his head. Fujiko turned to the guardsman. "Thank you, Officer Killian." The guardsman tipped his helm. "Least I could do, ma'am." Then the door was slammed shut in his face. Fujiko led Andrea and Sheryl to an office just a little larger than Father Sheraton's. However, this one was furnished much more nicely. There was a thick carpet on the floor (which Sheryl promptly curled up and went to sleep on), a fine mahogany desk, and several beautiful paintings and tapestries hanging around the room. On the desk were a blotter, paperweights, and a jade figurine that looked quite valuable. There was also a little frame with seven shiny balls hanging from it on strings. Andrea took a seat in one of the comfortable-looking chairs opposite from the desk, and looked up just in time to see part of the wall behind the desk slide open, and a man step out from a dark space behind. He was in his late middle age, with a few lines on his face, and his sandy-colored hair was a bit unkempt. He was wearing a nightrobe, and he looked a bit tired. As he sat down at the desk, a female voice called out from the space behind him, "Shall I get you some coffee, Guildmaster Robinson?" "No, woman!" Robinson roared back. "Wine is what I need, you know that! Get me a glass, immediately." "Yessir, Guildmaster! Right away..." There was a shuffling of feet, and the wall swung shut behind the Guildmaster's chair. "Fine woman, she is, but if she were just a little quicker on the uptake..." Robinson sighed. "Now then, what is the situation? I'm told you were wearing one of my rings...?" Andrea took it off and set it on his desk. "Yessir," she said, her eyes downcast. "Look at me, girl, don't look at the floor. I don't bite," the Guildmaster boomed. "Ah, that's better. "Where did you get this ring?" "Fu--Fujiko gave it to me, sir." "Ah, she did, eh? Well, I trust her judgement a great deal...what man wouldn't trust his own niece, after all?" As Andrea goggled, Robinson picked up the ring. "It's been used, and quite recently, too," he remarked. "Were you attacked?" "Yessir." Sheryl chose this moment to stand up. She had been lying right in front of the Guildmaster's desk, obscured from his view, and this startled him immensely. "Ho, what's this? A unicorn, in my office?" After recovering from the initial startlement, he said, "Well, I'm honored, honored indeed. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" As Andrea opened her mouth to reply, Robinson held up his hand and said, "No, wait...I mustn't get distracted from the business at hand. First I have to find out just who it was that attacked you." He held up the ring and pointed it at the wall. "This handy little device was crafted for me by the great mage, Kodak Land. PROJECTION!" he called out, and the ring flashed again. This time, however, it produced an image on the wall of the three punks just as they had been standing when the ring had flashed. As Andrea goggled and Sheryl whinnied in surprise, Robinson fingered his chin and said, "Ah yes, Miko and his friends. I've had some trouble with them in the past, but now I have a legitimate excuse...ignoring my seal of protection. This is indeed a red-letter day for me--first a unicorn shows up, and then I get proof enough to take care of that thorn in my side once and for all. Ah, thanks, my dear." The last comment was directed at the woman who had just come out of the secret door behind Robinson, carrying a carafe of wine and a goblet on a silvre tray. As Andrea looked up, she saw that it was Fujiko, wearing the dreary clothes of a kitchen drudge! She winked, then left the wine carafe and goblet and closd the door behind her. "Now, what brings you to my humble domicile?" Robinson asked, swallowing the wine and leaning forward attentively. Andrea told her story, punctuated by snorts and nickers from Sheryl at the proper moments. Robinson listened attentively, at times playing idly with the steel balls on the frame. He would pull one back and release it, and it banged into the other balls and one on the far end would fly off, then swing back, and send the first one flying again. Then he would pull two back, and, lo and behold, TWO balls from the other end would be launched outward. Soon Sheryl was completely mesmerized by this strange device, and she even forgot she was sleepy. When Andrea finished her tale, Robinson nodded. "I can see now why you have come. It will be a good deal for all three of us if you become an apprentice here. You will learn marketable skills, Sheryl will be protected far better than any bodyguard could hope to, and I will gain new apprentices because of having the only Guild with a unicorn under its roof. So what say you, Andrea? Is it a deal?" Andrea thought. This was it--the moment that her entire future rested upon. How would she determine the course of her future life--thief or not? She looked at Sheryl, but Sheryl just looked back. "You're no help," Andrea told her unicorn/sister. Sheryl just tossed her head. Andrea looked Robinson in the eye. "Sir, I will do it. I will become an apprentice." And thus did Andrea decide. Andrea's training commenced the next day. It was, of course, no mystery to Father Phylus where she had gone, and that day he came by the Guild demanding that she be returned to him. Robinson met him firmly and told him that Andrea had made up her own mind. However, only when Andrea told him herself that she had no intention of going to an abbey did he admit defeat. "I'd had such hopes for you, girl..." he sighed. "I'm afraid my hopes are rather different than yours," Andrea said pointedly. "Besides, with Robinson's decree, everyone in the area knows that to attack Sheryl would mean certain death." Phylus sighed again. "I guess my coming here was pointless, then." "No, Father, it wasn't," Andrea said. "I'll always love you, and I will stop in at your church. Just because I'm learning this trade doesn't mean we can't still be friends..." Father Phylus nodded. "I see. Well, you'll always be welcome in the House of Issek." He started to walk away, then stopped, turned. "Please come see me soon." "I will," Andrea promisd. Over the time that passed after this, Andrea discovered that she was even more talented than Fujiko had thought. She had a real gift for sleight-of-hand, which would come in quite handy for working with weapons up her sleeves and picking pockets. She had a dexterity that many thieves could only dream of. And she had the brains to figure out alternate plans when things went wrong. Andrea's combat teacher was Fujiko herself. Though it was hard at first, soon Andrea had mastered most of the moves Fujiko taught her. After this, Andrea's instructor became a monk whose fighting skills were different from Fujiko's--Fujiko was a brown belt (working on her first black) in Tae Kwan Do, he explained, while he taught Judo as self-defense. He demonstrated, by asking her to rush at him, then throwing her half a dozen times. This was where she learned the techniques that would later save her life half a dozen times (including, most recently, Callus' attack). Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, months into years. Before Andrea knew it, two and a half years had passed, and a lot had changed for her. She'd grown taller, smarter, stronger, wiser, and...better-endowed. She had proven to be an excellent thief, too, better than most in her class and some above her. And she knew instinctively that it was time to go. Sheryl hadn't seemed to age very much at all; Andrea had beeen assured that this was because unicorns generally had a much greater lifespan than normal humans or horses. Sheryl had made many friends in Selactica, and the Thieves' Guild had grown accordingly stronger because of her. Andrea knew that it probably would be hard on her to leave, but also knew that she would come. As a graduation present, Robinson gave Andrea a magical Dagger of Resource, a small dagger with studs on the handle that, when pressed, released various gadgets, including enhanced lockpicks, a hoof-cleaning tool (very handy with Sheryl around), and a couple of other implements. Also, it was magically enhanced, and thus more sure to strike the enemy. On the day of her departure, Andrea and Sheryl were met one last time by Fujiko and Guildmaster Robinson. Fujiko had tears in her eyes. "I can't believe how far you've come in just two short years..." Andrea nodded, her own eyes glistening. "It's been fun...but now, Sheryl and I have our lives to get on with, and I have some wizards to find." "You think that they'll be able to help?" Fujiko asked. "They can if anybody can..." Though Andrea did feel a slight pang, recalling the last time someone had used a similar expression. "Anyway, there's no harm in trying...and I will at least be able to learn more about what Sheryl has now become." Robinson nodded. "Who knows? Maybe you'll learn something about yourself in the process." Andrea looked him in the eyes. "You may be right." She turned to go, and Sheryl walked after her. They walked a few steps together, then Andrea turned and said, "We'll be back someday. And one last thing: Thank you." Then she turned and walked forward, and they didn't look back. Andrea wanted to remember them just the way she'd seen them last, and she hated long goodbyes anyway. For the next several years, Andrea and Sheryl wandered aimlessly through Nexus. Andrea would go to one place to see a powerful wizard, and no sooner would she find that he could not help her than she would learn another rumor of a more powerful wizard in another place and go off to investigate it. Of course, all this magical investigation required a great amount of money, so Andrea had to pull some jobs to keep the required amount of cash on her. Not that this was much of a problem for a thief of her talents. Several times she heard rumors of Raykor or Raoh, but no sooner would she investigate than they had moved on, gone elsewhere, or else the report was bogus to begin with. After several years, Andrea was still no closer to finding a solution or taking revenge than she had been when she had started out. Andrea never saw Raykor again, but she never forgot his face. There were several times that Andrea heard his mocking laughter in the night, coming from just outside the range of their campfire, but he never showed his face. It scared Sheryl half to death, but Andrea only clenched her jaw in determination. "One of these days, Raykor whoreson, you WILL die!" she yelled back. There was never any response. Eventually their journey led to a chain of islands out in the Great Blue, where she and a band of fellow adventurers had gone on a dungeon crawl through a series of catacombs that Raykor had supposedly claimed for his own. Things went rather badly from the first, with several of them getting killed right off, and by the time it was over, she and Sheryl had barely escaped with their lives. Of course, the fact that she was now several thousand gold pieces richer did serve to make up for it somewhat. However, her luck continued to change for the worse. As she and Sheryl were in the local town celebrating their gains and the fact that they were still alive, a horde of monsters swept down out of the dungeon. Andrea choked on her drink, grabbed her satchel (which, fortunately, contained her money) and Sheryl and ran for the docks. She bought passage on the first ship she saw (actually it was one of the last still in the dock, with that horde of monsters advancing) and they'd headed out to sea. However, late in the voyage, some of the sailors decided to try to take the unicorn's horn and get rich quick. Andrea had to kill the offenders and escape. Fortunately, the ship was just pulling into Generica dock when this happened and so they were able to escape. "And the rest you all know," Andrea finished, leaning back in her chair. She looked around, and noticed that their dinner had arrived but no one had noticed, they'd been so wrapped up in her tale. "Hey, everybody, let's eat!" This suggestion was greeted with much approval, and the conversation level at the table dropped appreciably as everyone tore into their roast turkey (and 'Raelf, with some reluctance, into his salad). ADMIN: If you like this thread, or noticed all the little in-jokes (or should that be "inn-jokes"? :) I put in, or whatever, please drop me a line! I like hearing from people about what I write. Later! -- Chris Meadows || "The Zetons look like beautiful CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || women, but their tissues are made CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || of paper, so they burn, like paper." CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || --Captain Harlock, Ziv's lame-o dub. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: [JOI] Segoi...and where to be found. Message-ID: <1993Mar31.133939.3622@ultb.isc.rit.edu> Date: Wed, 31 Mar 1993 13:39:39 GMT Looking over the supplies Segoi notices a few things missing that only he would need, and seeing as they were departing tomorrow, he saw no sense in waiting to get them. "I must go in search of a few items I need for the journey before us, do not wait for me, I will join you on the ship in the morning." So saying the great figure of Segoi walks away into the darkness of the coming night. Leaving the area of the Drift Inn and following the noises of the town Segoi wanders hither and thither looking for this shop and that. Being late much of the city is closed and only the Bizzar remains open for the most part. Finding most of what he needed at a herb stall, and seeing a weapons's smith stall moves silently over to consult with him on certain weapons. Then as the night wares on into the wee hours he wanders again back towards the Inn. Seating himself in an empty stall in the stables he closes his eyes and seems to sleep. As the first rays of dawn break the sky Segoi rises and walks in the fresh morning, down to the port. After a few inquires he finds the correct ship and speaking to her captain boards the slowly rocking vestle. Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader From: jmondak@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (JACK-SPRAT) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] "To sleep, perchance to dream..." Message-ID: <1993Mar31.104027.4888@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 31 Mar 93 10:40:26 -0500 Alarond, after quite an interesting evening, bids good-night to the company and retires to his awaiting room where he comfortably slips into a more comfortable form for sleeping.ryptic dreams. Pondering the day's events, Alarond drifts off to sleep and is beset by a series of cryptic dream. It's as if someone is trying to send him some message but somehow, along the way, the message was scrambled by a force more powerful and threatening than the first. The dreams all have a certain veil of extreme evil enveloping them as if they were a warning to not come any closer to their meaning than he is now. There is a hint of fear on the part of the sender--they fear the company, its powers, known and unknown--and will do anything to stop them on the way to realizing their quest. Alarond wakes up with a jolt. He knows that he had a horrid dream yet can remember only bits and pieces and can make no sense of what he _does_ remember. The only connecting thread in all of this puzzle is a face: dark, meanacing, preternaturally evil. This "face" is neither that of a man nor a beast. It is a thing that no creature in air, on land, under the land or in the sea could see--and live to tell the tale. Alarond, after composing himself, decides to keep vigil for the rest of the long night. /I'll ask Quaeros or Elanon in the morning. I pray that they can allay my fears concerning this dream or I fear that our happy company will be doomed./ MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu (christopher motherway) Subject: [Raoh] Thoughts of battle Message-ID: References: <1p85neINN8lu@shelley.u.washington.edu> Date: Wed, 31 Mar 1993 17:53:56 GMT > He opened his eyes wide, and the vision stopped. Slowly, his breathing > returned to normal, as he continued to stare at the man on the far side. If > this was the same amount of power as wielded by Raoh, then the team was in > serious trouble. And doubly so, if this man was not all he seemed. > There would be some tricks that Pantora knew he would have to try > upon this newcomer...it might give the team the slightest of edges, and in > facing power of that magnitude, they would need as many advantages as they > could get. > Quietly, Pantora thought about the future. > > Lance had been looking at Pantora. And, although he had no idea what this `mentalist' was doing, he felt that the man had his doubts about Ray. Lance, too, had his doubts. But he had a good feeling about this stranger. After all, his sister and brother-in-law-to-be were captives of Raoh. All he wished was for the team to be victorious, for Kassandra to be out from under Raoh's foot, and for the satisfaction of correcting what appeared to be the worst of injustices. With these thoughts, Lance went to sleep. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = The sun was blaring, but not as much as the battle. Raoh's troops seemed to appear from all directions. The only members of the team left breathing were Lance and Ray. Lance had no time to mourn over Blaze's death, for it was Raoh himself who killed her. And if destroying the man who killed his mate was the only justice he could grab...so be it! Raoh just sat upon his horse, laughing hartingly as, one by one, he deflected the fireballs shooting from Lance's sword. Ray was having a hard time tangling with Uygar, which was understandable since Ray was about 4 feet shorter. Finally, Raoh got the look that seemed to say, "Enough of this!" With a wild leap, he jumped off his horse and landed on top of Lance, who was caught completely off guard. Raoh then picked up Lance, cocked his fist and let it fly right in the middle of Lance's forehead. Lance flew through the air until he crashed into the Dungeon Tower. Lance was not unconscious, but his back was hurting tremendously. His head, however, did not seem to hurt. He looked down. The force of the impact had him `dug' into the outer wall of the Tower about six floors up. To his right, he heard screams of `RAY!! DEAR BROTHER, NO!! RAAAAAYY!' Lance figured that must have been Aliee. But before he could call for Aliee, his head started hurting. Hurt? This made migranes seem mild! Lance was in sheer agony. He felt where Raoh had puched him...and it seemed to be swelling. The pain felt like his brain was expanding but his skull was not! He tried to push it in, but it was no use. His entire skull was expanding. A second later, Lance saw blood splurting out of his head. He screamed with incredible pain, knowing that they had failed........... = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Lance awoke with a start. He was surprised he was not screaming, or even sweating. Everyone else was asleep, except for Ray, who was on the watch. Lance walked over to Ray and asked him, "Tell me about Raoh's fighting power. Certainly, he does not stay up on his horse all the time." Ray replied, "Raoh's hand-to-hand fighting abilities is second-to-none. They say that, were he to punch you in the head, your brain would shoot out so much blood, that you entire head would explode. Also, he can use he hand...no, all he needs is one finger,...as a burning knife. Unlike me, Raoh can jab his fingers right THROUGH a human's body. I've seen him do that more than once. If he doesn't feel like killing you, he just sticks his finger into your body and turns it. Much like turning a knife in your body. He then withdraws it, leaving you with a hideous scar, small but painful." Lance said, "Yes. I KNOW of painful scars." He then told Ray of his dream. Ray listened with fascination. When Lance finished, Ray said, "I don't know if this premenition is true, but I wouldn't worry. By the way, the silent one, Pantora I believe you call him? Does he not think well of me." Lance shrugged. "I know I don't look trustworthy enough. But I swear to you now; I want to help you destroy Raoh the Conqueror. I will not turn on you people. As long as Kassandra is not liberated, I will fight until my death to set my people free!!!!" They stood there for a while in silence. The Lance said, "Get some rest, Ray. I will take the next watch. Besides, I cannot sleep." Ray walked to the camp, saying, "I understand. Nightmares about Raoh keep ME up, too." Ray lied down under a tree and rested. Lance kept the final watch. At sunrise, they would continue toward Kassandra. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir) Subject: [Sorc] Departing Message-ID: Date: Wed, 31 Mar 1993 20:24:24 GMT Saoirse looked at Talon, observing his movements as he collected things form his own personal laboratory and rooms. She studied him. He was old, looked tired and weary of all this. He had no wish to go gallivanting off at his age. A retired Ambassador, but with no-one in his place. It had been four years since she had last seen Talon at the Academy, as he walked among the Council, telling them of the acheivements in the Guild. Talon was respected. He was friendly with the Council for the most part, quiet and unobtrusive, yet authoritative in his own way. He turned around, picking up a staff, with a golden jewel gleaming brightly at it's peak. Talon does not wish to return to Magira, that much was evident. Yet he is needed now more than ever. There was no-one that she could think of who would be better suited, or even at all suited to the job at hand. He was the only neutral in the conflict that she knew of. And so, she had fled to him with a wild sense that he was the only one who could help. How she knew this, she was not sure, but she somehow knew it. Surely, all the meetings in the Council had - "Academician, are you ready", a thought message interrupted her. She nodded to him, and prepared a transportation spell. "Where are we going in the city itself?", he was saying, as she read his lips. 'I believe that we must handle this delicately. I am not privy to the secrets behind this conflict, but the strife has been building for years now, Talon. Please, call me Saoirse.' "Very well. You know a safe place I trust?" Talon was nervous. War obviously wasn't his speciality. She simply nodded, and began the spell to take them there. We must handle this delicately, she said to herself. But what exactly could she do, or could Talon do, to save the city from war. Talon would know, she was sure of it. After all, he understood the real political motives behind the Council after all. Didn't he? She cast the spell, soundlessly, without words, but with agreat deal of movement using her hands. As the spell drew to a close, a harmonious melody of notes rang quietly throughout the area. Talon raised an eyebrow, but merely waited. The spell closed. There was a flash of light, and the sound of a church organ rang once with chord. Talon presumed it to be her sigil or somesuch. Then there vision changed. They were standing in a small alley way, and the sky was a riot of colour as several bolts of varying types winged their way in many directions. Saoirse looked around in shock. Talon echoed her thoughts in speech, "Gods above!! I have never seen such assembling of power for such waste!" -- 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 MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Dawn arrives...(finally!) Message-ID: <1993Mar31.201705.4899@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 31 Mar 93 20:17:05 -0500 It was still dark outside when Aleric opened his eyes. A trait born of many years of nervous sleep, he woke cold eyed and clear headed. Some internal clock told him it was about half an hour before daybreak. He stood, stretching like a cat. A muscle in his shoulder twinged, causing him to wince. He pulled his arm across his chest to relax the muscle. Aleric strapped on Xel-Ha's scabbard and made sure his three daggers were still in place. The one hanging at the back of his neck had a tendency to slide out of position at night. He picked up his pack and slipped down the stairs on silent feet. When he entered the stables he saw Segoi rising from his rest and collecting his gear. One by one their companions entered the stable and began saddling their mounts. Aleric loaded one pack horse with part of the equipment and cinched the straps tight. He turned and found Ildamar finishing up with the other horse. A quick glance around told him all had arrived except Laurenth and Darkin. Of course, none missed their entrance when they did arrive. Darkin swung into the stable without bothering to be quiet. "Good morning everyone! I'm glad to see you all managed to get here on time," she declared in a loud voice. Several horses snorted and shied nervously. She went for her horse and imperiously demanded Alarond (who was standing in her path) to move aside. He directed a sour look at her and his expression told the group he was preparing to be belligerent. Elanon, being the nearest, prudently nudged Alarond, defusing the impending comflict. Laurenth glided gracefully past the others murmuring apologies for Darkin's behavior. It didn't take long for the group to gather everything. The pink rays of dawn were just gleaming from the horizon when the company led their mounts into the Inn's courtyard. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac169@Freenet.carleton.ca (Darryl Farr) Subject: [JOI] Ildamar's dream (?) Message-ID: <1993Apr1.042832.9005@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Thu, 1 Apr 1993 04:28:32 GMT After bidding goodnight to the newly formed group of companions, Ildamar made his way up the rickety stairs and into the common sleeping room. He picked his way carefully over the reclining forms of several sleeping persons, and chose a small pallet near the window. He lay down, removing his weaponry and gear, and placed his small pack under his head. He stared at the sky for some time, longing for the wind, the smell of the trees around him, and the chatter of the nighttime residents of the forest. He was, however, anxiously anticipating the upcoming sea voyage. Years ago, he had spent several months on board such a vessel, and, though it could not compare with the sylvan peacefulness of the verdant wilderness, the open sea, with its salt air and tangy wind had much to recommend it. After a time, his eyes gradually closed, as he drifted off to sleep. Shortly after Ildamar lost consciousness, his form started to blur. A faint glow suffused his features, and his skin darkened to midnight blue. His hair turned dark black, and his features became almost blunt, but at the same time, startlingly beautiful. He started to dream. He was standing in a glade, surrounded by tall trees. He could hear the wind, calling to him, and he turned to follow. Suddenly, out of the growth, there appeared a majestic doe. She turned and fled, but stopped shortly and looked behind. He smiled to himself, and felt his form shifting. He now resembled nothing so much as a huge white stag, with a formidible rack of antlers, and a coat as pure as the fresh blossoms of a young apple tree. He ran after the doe, and they played tag for miles, always within sight of each other, but, teasingly, never within reach. Ildamar burst into a clearing, and froze at the scene before him. The doe was lying on her side, a black-fletched arrow piecing her flank. "Har-har-har!! I gots 'er, Bokk!" he heard, as an ogre, dressed in black leather and iron spikes marched into the clearing. He hefted the doe onto his shoulder and stomped off. Ildamar watched, frozen with terror, as his beloved, Tirana, was unceremoniously borne off by the huge hunter. As she disappeared into the bush on the back of the ogre, the doe lifted her head weakly and looked at him through glazed eyes. "Ildamar... I am near... hurry!" Ildamar felt, rather than heard the words. He awoke, drenched in sweat, the blankets wrapped around his torso. "Tirana! I-I'm coming!" he whispered. He closed his eyes and wept. After several minutes had passed, his eyes closed in exhaustion, and he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. -- Darryl Farr An old grey horse stood on the wall, The Grey Man As daft as he was high. He had no fear of falling down, ac169@freenet.carleton.ca He thought he was a fly. MagicHutchHeader From: hilanse@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Storm Thread Is A Good Idea. Message-ID: <1993Mar31.223315.6643@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 31 Mar 93 22:33:15 CST Storm sounds like a good idea, Bossie, Wonko, and Athorbalo could participate, any chance that this storm might be more than a natural occurrence? Maybe an evil archmage's attempt to wreak havoc upon Generica, or a particular person in Generica? I can deal with that, we could see how Bossie adapts to having wings, and dealing with a storm. And Wonko...well...you'll see. (Great Idea) Wonko The Sane MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [AU] Origins for Dinner Message-ID: References: <16BA1138E7.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> <16BA113A3C.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> <16BA113C32.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Date: Thu, 1 Apr 1993 08:23:09 GMT CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Chris Meadows) writes: [...] "And a salad for 'Raelf," Serene decided. "In fact, you could probably all do with some vegetables." "But--" 'Raelf began weakly. "No 'buts.' You need to eat your greens..." Andrea shrugged and smiled. "Sounds good to me. Do you have any bleu cheese dressing?" ( 'Raelf muttered under his breath. "Wait til I get you back into training, Serene Uhtsong, you are going to be SORE..." ) Serena smiled. "Aye, that we do. And what will your wee friend here have?" She gestured to Sheryl. "Uh, she'll have a large salad, I think," Andrea said. Sheryl nodded, and Andrea said, "Yes, that's definitely what she'll be having." [...] Andrea sighed. She'd come to a decision. "After all you've done for me, 'Raelf, you deserve to hear my story. You too, ar'Elya. And wait--" she said, stopping Khyra as he got up to go. "You can hear this too. After all, we've agreed to adventure together, have we not?" [...] Andrea took another sip from her ale, and began to spin her story. "A long time ago, in a town far, far away..." [ She told them about Raoh in his early days as an all-destroying conqueror, before his reputation had grown to the point that villages were surrendering before he could even reach them. While she spoke, Listener tuned down the music, and listened, mentally composing the dirge for the village of Yellow Wheat. A few other people from nearby tables also listened - they had been attracted by the "show" when 'Raelf explained what he'd learned of Sheryl's curse to Andrea. Most of these had been distracted when Listener started the chair-dance, but one in particular, a weary-eyed woman in a lace shawl, had seemed to feel no particular urge to go dancing. But now Andrea was telling the story, going on as if by telling it, she could make it a separate thing from her, so she could get hold of it and shake it loose and punish the ones who had done the deed. Raoh, the butcher, and Raykor, his toadying pet wizard. 'Raelf met ar'Elya's eyes when the transformation and curse was described. The reflection of terrifying revenger in one eye vied with the image of oppressive tyrant in the other eye, and he knew he didn't want either role. She smiled as he made the choice. Andrea told of her father's useless death at the lightning-struck tree, and ar'Elya whispered, with the voice of a secret whispered at midnight, <> Andrea told of the spy, thief, warrior woman Fujiko, and her aid and kindness when the Issek priests failed to break the curse. She told of her training, the way she learned the skills of the spy, the cutpurse, the street magician's sleight of hand. She told, with a bitter humor, of the failure to learn anything new from the many wizards and priests and libraries, and she told them of the expedition to gain wealth by pilfering an underground ruin that turned out not to be the empty ruins claimed by their enemy Raykor, but the abode of monstrous warped creatures who attacked the town she was in. She told of her escape, and the clever idea that Callus and his mates had about selling this pretty thief to the Rameshanders, cutting the horn off the unicorn for the black magic black market, and cooking the beast up for dinner. She was especially graphic about what she did to Callus' first mate, and recieved a small round of applause for the description, which she acknowledged with a brief bow. ] "And the rest you all know," Andrea finished, leaning back in her chair. She looked around, and noticed that their dinner had arrived but no one had noticed, they'd been so wrapped up in her tale. "Hey, everybody, let's eat!" This suggestion was greeted with much approval, and the conversation level at the table dropped appreciably as everyone tore into their roast turkey (and 'Raelf, with some reluctance, into his salad). "I wish they had something other than just lettuce," he muttered. After they had eaten, he mused for a few minutes. "You know, Andrea, it seems to me that we ought to do something about that curse. Sheryl is able to do without it now, she's got her own quite effective connection to the Unicorn shape. All it does is give Raykor an easy way to find you, and it keeps her from getting any of the really fun skills the unicorns can learn." "Oh? What do you suggest?" "Well, theres' several ways to disrupt such a thing. Either ar'Elya or I could try pulling it loose, but she's much stronger at that sort of thing than I am. My strongest specialty is making things, not the breaking of complicated curses. If I had the artifact Raykor used, I might be able to remove his curse. Raye can do a better job, right, sparkles?" He nodded to his partner. She gave him a _look_. "Sparkles?" She sighed. "Yes. I could disrupt the curse, but it's got some risk associated with it. The change in local gods means I would have to use the magical mode to do the cursebreaking, and there is more danger of her having side effects, like having the shape become stronger, or weaker. I'd prefer to prepare a ritual of some kind." "What would it cost me?" Andrea asked, prepared for the usual wizardly declaration of half a king's ransom. "Oh, exchange of favors. Your story was payment in full for 'Rafe's analysis of Sheryl's unicorn curse, for instance." "It was?" She looked at the blond man, who nodded, chewing on a stray leftover carrot stick, then offering the remnant to Sheryl, who sniffled it and took it delicately in her teeth. "Fer shure." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [Kardia] The Weavers' Guild Message-ID: <1993Apr1.063421.24176@data-io.com> Date: Thu, 1 Apr 1993 06:34:21 GMT After cooling off from the workout in the Public Gardens, Kardia limped back across Dragon's Lane to Merchant's Hill, and towards the house she remembered had the Weaver's Guild sigal. It looked different in the sunlight. The slate roof was now clearly multicolored, with the sigal repeated in a the subtle shading of slightly pink and slightly blue and slightly purple slates. The windows in the stone house seemed to have been placed wherever the stones most easily allowed them, with little regularity. Kardia liked the house on sight, and was amused to realize that each window had a lace curtain in a different pattern of cloth, though all of them were similar in physical make so that one that didn't know of the arts within wouldn't have thought any of them to be different. She walked up to the front door and knocked on the sun and weather bleached oak. A few moments later, the door was opened by a small, birdlike woman with bright blue eyes. "Hallo?" she said, cheerfully peering up at Kardia's tall, lanky form. "May I help you?" Kardia blinked, wondering if this really was the Weaver's Guild house or if those were just decorations these folks had found, then she remembered the curtains. "Uhm... I'm looking for the local branch of the Weaver's Guild..." The little woman beamed at her. "You've found her, deary. Come right on it..." Kardia stepped in past her, and she said, "My, you are the big girl, aren't you?" Kardia laughed softly, "It's from my father's side, his father was the youngest of seven sons and, at 6 feet tall, the shortest as well. My brothers are even taller than... oh, my..." as they came out of the cramped, dark, hallway into a Hall. The little woman giggled. "That's what most of the real spinsters say..." The Hall was 30 feet by 30 yards of sun filled, stone floored, wood panelled workspace. Workspace filled with standing looms, six different styles of spinning wheels, yarn winders, pickers for wool, gin and carders for cotten, combing setups, fully dressed distaffs, and the tremendous scents of a working spinning and weaving environment. The rich, animal scent of lanoline, the clean crisp grassy scents of flax, and behind it, underneath it the acrid traces of dyeing mordants. Even on this overcast day, the light from outside was clear and bright through a multitude of small windows spotting the entire wall. There were two women and a man in the area, using some of the equipment. One of the women, a tall brunette with her hair netted back, was teaching a young strawberry blonde girl the art of wielding wicked looking wool combs with staggered teeth, the longest blades was about 10 inches long. Kardia didn't blame them for not even looking up at their entrance. The man was spinning a flaxen thread fine enough that he had a contrast colored cloth in his lap to see it. He drew the thread, wetted the thumb of the front hand from a small dish of water and smoothed his work as it spun from the point of the flashing, needle slender spindle. He was built almost ridiulously big in comparison to the delicate work he was doing. He was dressed comfortably in a shirt with no sleeves to get in the way of his work and black pants. His hair was black, and his nose looked as if it had been broken at some time. He didn't stop spinning, only looked up at her with hazel eyes, nodded in her direction and at her returning nod went back to his work, tugging gently at the fibers from the distaff that loomed at his back. The little woman and Kardia exited the Hall at the other end. "Who were they?" asked Kardia. "The teacher is Journeyman Davida Laumer, the student is Cassie Lloyd, and the spinner is Master Peter Kroft. I'm Master Annie Torre." Annie laughed, "And you're...?" "Journeyman Kardia Xvaramene, first level." Kardia said. "First level?" asked Annie, sounding slightly puzzled, "I dinna know that there were weavers guilds that seperated levels out of the three basic classes. The Magician's Guild has something like that... but we haven't such nonsense here. Just gets too confusing and folks put on airs with too much political hoohaw. We're more a results guild." Kardia grinned at the words. "I think I'm going to like it here." They turned into an office. Kardia blinked in surprise at the metal filing cabinets that lined the walls. Annie laughed at the blink, "They're for patterns, techniques, a kinda library of membership knowledge made easy to look through and for things. One of the folks at the Mage Guild was... inexpensive enough to bring them over for us. Master Sally had gotten one once and pushed real hard for the Guild to swing a set. They've been most useful..." Annie went over to the desk, pulled open a drawer, and pulled out a thick, leather bound red book and a dip pen with a bottle of ink. She opened the book and wrote in Kardia's name, the date, and checked the 'arrived' column. While carefully writing in the entries, Annie asked, "You have any examples of your work so that we can judge who you should be working with?" Without a word, Kardia undid the tie on her pack and pulled out the cloth wrapped bundle, opened it and laid it's contents on the desk. She heard the indrawn hiss of breath. "My." said Annie and stroked the softness of the skein. Her hands did not catch on it, Kardia noted with some surprise. "What else do you have, Journeyman?" Annie's voice changed with the question, a kind of respect that Kardia didn't often hear simply on the sight of some of her work. Kardia pulled out three more cloth covered bundles and laid them on the table. She laid open one of them, unaccountably shy about seeing Annie's reaction, and pulled out a scarf colored pale gold. The lace was open enough for one to see the rest of the room right through it, and she knew that the 6 foot long, 18 inch wide scarf weighed less than half an ounce. Careful of any rough spots in the desk, she laid it across the darkly finished wood and the lace glowed. "Natural colored?" Kardia nodded, "A boiled finish." "Boiled?!" Annie flinched at the sharpness of her own voice and reaction. "You boil silk?" "No." Kardia said with a grin. "It's a variety of stinging nettle. Nettle cloth and thread. Plant grown, not worms." "Plant..." said Annie, wonderingly, stroking the scarf like a live animal. "Boiled for softness?" "And strength and pliability..." Kardia pulled apart the largest of the three bundles, and cascades of lace came out. "... when done in the thread." Annie nodded, pulled back with the bottle of ink, pen and put them away. Her eyes were intent and her hands well practiced when she handled the lightness of the fabric. "A tablecloth?" "Yes." Together, they spread a section so that the lace pattern could be seen across the darkness of the desk. The cloth had a spiky thistle as the center panel, with a border around the central rectangle that was diamond based. One section sprang from Kardia's hand and headed for the floor. Two big hands deftly caught the cloth. It was the man from the Hall. "How long did you ret the stalks?" he asked, as if he'd been a part of the conversation the whole time. Kardia blinked and thought, "Until they were done." she said and at their look laughed, "That particular batch took two weeks to get to the point where the stalks broke easily to the hand but the fibers were still strong and intact." "Water or dew?" "Water because I wanted the softer finish and the lighter color." "Hmmm... so it finishes exactly like flax?" his voice was polite and quiet. "Uhm... no, not exactly, there seem to be more joints in the stalks, so the resulting length of the fibers is shorter..." "And the shorter length also makes the finished yarn softer and more pliable?" he asked. Kardia nodded, relieved and finding herself relaxing in all the familiar technical talk, these folks knew their stuff, not just the whats of rote learning but the whys behind how their materials behaved. "Which would also make the retting process more difficult, with a finer balance between when the pith was rotted away and the finer fibers hadn't rotted away..." He just stood there looking at the froth of lace in his big hands. "By Issek, Peter, you could at least introduce yourself..." said Annie with a twinkle in her eye. He grinned at Annie a little crookedly and then faced Kardia straight on, "She told you my name already, yes?" Kardia nodded. "And your name?" "Kardia. Kardia Xvaramene. Journeyman..." she cut off before talking about levels. "Journeyman?" Peter frowned at the cloth in his hands, "Why in the world are you just a journeyman with work like this?" Kardia grinned a crooked grin, "Politics." "Humph." The single sound left no doubt as to what Peter thought of that. "Well, we'll have to see you in action, but I doubt that it'll be hard for you to get a master's rating fairly quickly if you can do work like this on a regular basis. Eh, Annie?" Annie was looking at the third, unopened bundle with a smile and a glint of anticipation, "Could be, Peter, could be. Why don't we see what other treasure she's brought us?" Peter and Kardia folded up the tablecloth and put it back in the bundle. Annie undid the third one and whistled softly. A vest as fragile seeming and transluscent at the other two pieces came out, glowing a blue as rich as it was deep. The juxtiposition of its fragility and the richness of the coloring involved made for an uncommon beauty, as of something ethereal. "Indigo?" Annie asked softly. "With a uria mordant." Kardia said. "Aged a week?" "Uhmmmhmmm..." "How hot?" "Just simmering, no roiling boil... spoils the fastness if it's boiled too hard." The two Masters nodded. "Damn, that took well." said Peter half to himself. For a long moment, they were silent, just studying the construction of the piece. "Can you sell these for me?" asked Kardia. Both of them looked at her, Peter started laughing hard enough he had to sit down. Annie rolled her eyes at him and said gently to Kardia, "How much do you want in advance?" * * * Kardia left the Guild House with gold tucked away in her belt as well as a few silvers and coppers in the bag on her back; and a receipt that showed the balance that was due her when the Guild actually did sell the items. She had left some of her already retted fibers for use by the Guild and a promise to take Annie to the plot that she'd planted the seeds at. She was entirely and utterly amazed at how easy it had all been. * * * "Lets's just spread it out on this old table... just to see how it looks when it's actually flat..." said Annie to Cassie as she pulled the tablecloth out of the careful bundle. It was the main table in the dining Hall of the Guild, an ancient, dark with use giant of a table. The darkness of the wood contrasted beautifully with the white cloud that slowly settled over it. The table crashed to the ground, one of the legs gone halfway to dust... Both women screamed at the crash. Kitchen staff and Guild members rushed into the dining hall at the huge sound. Peter first checked to make sure that Cassie and Annie were all right; and then he knelt to examine the the table under the shining web of the tablecloth. He frowned, thinking hard. Pascere, the cook, came up with a knife still in one big fist. The cook growled, "Damn hedge wizard, may the meal he got for fixing the table rot in his gut..." Peter blinked, "You had a *wizard* fix the table?" "Was lookin' for a meal in exchange for a job. Knew needed fixin'. So's had 'im do that. Much good it did..." growled the cook, nodding in the direction of the destroyed leg, "Looks jus' like it did afore he got to fixin' it..." ----- [ADMIN - Introducing, enmass, the Weavers' Guild as I don't think that they exist, yet. Masters Peter Kroft and Annie Torre, Journeyman Davida Laumer, and Apprentice Cassie Lloyd. Also the cook, Pascere, just 'cause it was a neat name. Plus a cast of dozens that I haven't really looked at yet. Most of these are NPC's, I'd like to know of any use of Peter and Annie, though. -PLR] -- Phyllis Rostykus | "... and how you feel can make it real aka Liralen Li | Real as anything you've seen... " li@Data-IO.com | Peter Gabriel _US_ MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hibschmn@roof.Princeton.EDU (Johann Allen Hibschman) Subject: [JOI] Quaeros prepares for departure Message-ID: <1993Apr1.003630.16957@Princeton.EDU> Date: Thu, 1 Apr 1993 00:36:30 GMT Seeing that the company is retiring for the evening, Quaeros returns to his room and begins to prepare for departure. He begins to lay out his usual travelling attire of elven chain, but pauses. Perhaps it is not terribly wise to wear metal armor on shipboard. He shrugs and stows the armor with his other equipment in a pack. Composing himself, Quaeros prays for a few minutes before finally collapsing into his bed and drifting off to sleep. His sleep is troubled, but he does not wake. All too soon it was dawn. It was a grey, uninspiring day, but Quaeros gathered his equipment efficiently and returned to the inn to meet the others. He was still unsure about the voyage, having travelled by ship only briefly before, but he did not let his mind dwell upon it. For what was there to fear but death, and death was not to be feared. Quaeros had heard these words over and over again at the Temple, but there was still something about the sea, something mysterious and disturbing. He had heard tales of the perils of the sea, of the storms and worse. Surely the worst tales were false, tales of tentacled monstrosities dwelling in the deeps, ruling over hordes of seaweed-festooned horrors. No matter, the company seemed prepared, and it was time to go. Elanon led the companions to the docks, where he had arranged for a ship to bear us across the sea. Quaeros followed, mostly in silence, pausing only slightly. Alarond's tale of his night terror had done little to improve his mood, for surely it was an ill omen. Quaeros refrained from suggesting the possible expanations which sprung to mind; there would be time on the ship, and he did not trust his mood. There is nothing to fear but death and death is not to be feared. He said nothing while the companions embarked. Once he was actually aboard, however, his mood improved considerably. He found a quiet corner on deck and pulled a long wooden case from one of his pouches. Removing his flute from its oaken case, he attempted to play a few Temple processionals, but his heart was not in it. He allowed himself to be swayed by the crew and the other members of the expedition to shift to a few popular sea chanties. Concentrating on the music, he began to forget his reservations as the bright tunes colored the air. [ADMIN: I tried to keep this vague to allow anyone to do just about anything on the way to the ship. Quaeros was not in a mood to notice much of anything. Let's get this show on the road!] MagicHutchHeader Date: Thu, 1 Apr 1993 09:33:07 EST From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93091.093307ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: Storm Thread Is A Good Idea. References: <1993Mar31.223315.6643@wkuvx1.bitnet> This is just to publically support the storm idea. I think it's great. -Dream- MagicHutchHeader From: dnichols@engr.latech.edu (Dennis Nichols) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [G] The Gateway Date: Thu, 1 Apr 1993 15:00:12 GMT Message-ID: This is a post for Thorr-kan. It may be a repeat. >"Flank him." the Minotaur shouts to Roger and Traveler, "The GateWay is only >several blocks away. I will deal with the Gold Elf who operates the device." >Moving forward as the others go alongside Wanderer, Thorr-kan leads them >forward to the GateWay.... As the White Minotaur strides away from the group, Gleep glances back at Wanderer. The pseudo-dragon turns to his large friend and chirps despairingly. He chitters away at Thorr-kan for several seconds, ending on a questioning note. "No, little one. I do not enjoy the prospect of being pawns once more. But we are forewarned. Besides, we are doing this for a friend. Anyone interfering with us will be quite displeased with the results." Gleep is silent for a moment. Then he chirps in solemn determination. Thorr-kan chuckles. "Thank you, my friend. Now, be silent a bit." Making sure his friends are following, the minotaur turns to the GateWay to the Worlds. It seems a small structure for such a place of importance. Thorr-kan approaches two metallic doors, looking at the statues on each side. Gleep hisses threateningly at the crystal. The minotaur halts. Are these perhaps guardians? Irrelevant. He has urgent business inside. ---------- A golden-skinned elf looks up from behind his desk. Many beings have passed through his office, but none such as this. Traveller askes, "May I be of assistance?" Thorr-kan looks down on the elf seated before him. Such a small creature. But he radiates a power that make the White Minotaur uneasy. Thorr-kan clears his throat. "My companions and I wish to use your portal. We have a friend in dire need who must return home immediately." Traveller thinks a moment, then says, "I cannot guarantee your safety. Several weeks ago, monumental magical forces were unleashed in Generica. The GateWay has been... unstable ever since. Are you certain this is wise?" "We have no choice. A life hangs in the Balance." "Very well." The elf rises. "How many are in you group?" Thorr-kan thinks for a moment. All the others have mounts. It might be wise to have mine ready before we leave. "Three humans, myself and my little friend, and four mounts. I have none of the local coin, but there are items I may be willing to trade." "Such as?" asks Traveller. Thorr-kan reaches into one of the pouches at his waist. From it he pulls a fist-sized emerald and a slightly smaller ruby. These are lain on the table. Then, the White Minotaur rummages through his pack for a moment and pulls out three items. Each joins the gems on the table. Traveller examines each gem, and finds them genuine. But the items are what get his attention. One is a small silver brooch, set with a pearl amidst delicate sculpting. The second appears to be a hairnet of some type. It is very finely woven, shimmering as light passes through it. Finally, there is a small key of quartz. The Gold Elf examines each in turn. The brooch he sets aside. "Useful, if not particularly powerful." Next, he examines the hairnet. "Ahhh," he whispers. "Sea-elf workmanship." Thorr-kan nods. "Very rare. And what is this trinket?" he says, referring to the quartz key. Thorr-kan points to the first two items. "These are each useful to mages. This key," lifting it, "is a token of the royal family of Sivanesti. If one presents it to them, that person will receive almost any aid necessary. I have never had use for any of these."Traveller gestures and the items disappear. Another gesture, and the front doors swing open, admitting Roger and Traveler (human, our companion) supporting Wanderer. "Payment is sufficient. Come, bring your animals and follow me." Roger and Thorr-kan gather the mounts of the three humans. "What did you have to pay?" whispers Roger in the moment the two are alone. "Enough," grunts Thorr-kan. "But we can settle that later." The two re-enter the building, pass through the front room into another, larger room in back. Here stands a platform at least twenty feet to a side. In its center rises a large gold oval. Space shimmers within, images cascade across its face, energy crackles from it. The Gold Elf turns to the foursome. "You must enter the GateWay all at once. I suggest you stay close together and be mounted. It will be a rough ride." He approaches Traveler and Wanderer. Gently, he lays both hands on the wounded man's temples. "I feel your agony. But you must concentrate upon your homeland so I can know where to send you." Wanderer nods slightly and grimaces. The energies of the GateWay start to hum, rising to a feverish pitch. Slowly, agonizingly, it settles on one image. Wanderer smiles slightly. "Home!" he whispers. Traveler nods slightly. "Aye, my friend. It will be good to return..." He helps his injured friend to his horse. Roger has already mounted, and Thorr-kan... Thorr-kan is setting a small statuette upon the floor. It flows for a moment, then assumes the shape of a horse of stone. "Hush, Demonwind, hush. It is time once more for us to ride," soothes the White Minotaur. He mounts up and joins the other three. Traveller (the Gold Elf) looks up at the three. "I cannot guarantee your safety. But I shall attempt to keep the GateWay open. If you wish to return, you must find your own way here. I bid you good fortune. May your gods watch over you." With that he steps aside. The four ride abreast into the GateWay... -Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Storm-- Who's for it? Message-ID: <1993Apr1.102252.4903@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 1 Apr 93 10:22:51 -0500 I don't know about the rest of the members in my group, but I think that the storm is a good idea. While Elanon's company is on board the ship I think I could handle encountering some bad weather. It would add a little excitement to an otherwise dull sea voyage. What do the rest of you think? Heather Sexauer (Aleric nhir'Lyorn) MagicHutchHeader From: bdavis@pepper.cray.com (Brent Davis {x67000 CF/ENG}) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Kal & Co] Watching Eyes Message-ID: <1993Apr1.115938.5350@walter.cray.com> Date: 1 Apr 93 17:59:37 GMT "How dare he!?," the witches howled watching as Kalendraf removed the necklace from his neck and handed it to Kevin. "Noooo...," they shrieked in unison. As Kal's hand let go of the charmed amulet, the vision ended instantly. The three figures surrounding the cauldron dropped their hand's breaking their combined and unified power. "Your suggestions weren't powerful enough! I knew we couldn't trust you." The hags began quarreling amongst themselves, two of them verbally attacking the third. Yet strangely, not one of them so much as lifted a limb to strike or even gesture. "When our new Lord finds this out, he will place the blame upon all of us! How could you fail us so!?" "My magic did not fail. The damned horn's power superseded the charm. You knew the risks, sisters. We all knew the risks. We will simply need to find another way." "There is little time for new paths. Why not use the necklace to control one of the others to accomplish our end? The lad Kevin seems a perfect choice to control and corrupt." "It is tuned for but one...the Isle Lord. It will not channel our voices into another's mind. We can only hope that when the time comes, the horn does not again interfere." "We cannot trust it. There must be another way to insure our aims." Long silence surrounded the trio of grossly disfigured women. Even yet not one of them moved. Only the constant swirling of the cauldron's vile brew provided any relief from the deathly stillness. "Perhaps there is a way. Do not forget sisters...all who have been touched by its powers are bound by its cursed fate. One of them may be perfect for our plans." "Yes...ripe is he for our influence...our guidance...a perfect choice sister." "Atone for your failure sister. Make him to follow our voice. Go now." Finally, one of the hags moved her arms, but only for an instant. That's all it took for her brief chant, gesture and disappearance into a cloud of sickly green smoke. -- / bdavis@cray.com | T | Given that 6 x 9 = 42, \ ( Cray Research, Inc. | 3 | then the Universe must ) \ Chippewa Falls, WI | D | be a base 13 function. / MagicHutchHeader From: jmondak@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (JACK-SPRAT) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Alarond gets his "sea legs" Message-ID: <1993Apr1.140125.4905@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 1 Apr 93 14:01:24 -0500 A few days had passed since the great company left the port, and now that Alarond had _finally_ gotten a hold of his queasy stomach long enough to joke around with the rest of the crew, he started to become his old jovial self again. "Well, everyone feeling chipper today?" Alarond chirped as he pinched Darkin's cheek, much to her surprise and great chagrin. A fight would have ensued if not for the calming hands of Elanon and Laurenth quietly smoothing the ruffled feathers of the rambunctious Darkin and the little sprite--who was not so little since he had started to change into a form a little more suited to fighting...and winning. After some force from Elanon, the reluctant changeling made the effort to apologize. He did as he was told, since he knew that Elanon would tan his hide if didn't. /I don't have to mean it however...She's been poking and prodding my the whole time I was heaving over the side, "Want some nice... runny...fish gruel Alarond?" Laughing all the while I resumed my prayers over the side! We'll see who gets the last laugh!/ Having cooled down a bit, Alarond sat down next Quaeros who was quietly weaving a solemn tune on his flute. "Tell me about this flute of yours and its purpose. It has unusual runes upon it and I would like to hear the story behind it if I may..." Jackie Mondak jmondak@vax.cns.muskingum.edu MagicHutchHeader From: jmondak@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (JACK-SPRAT) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: The Storm (con't) Message-ID: <1993Apr1.140604.4906@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 1 Apr 93 14:06:04 -0500 I think the storm will be an interesting twist to the plots that are running around Generica... Just An Opinion, Jackie Mondak (Alarond of the High Elves) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: cmeadows@nyx.cs.du.edu (Chris Meadows) Subject: Re: Storm Thread Is A Good Idea. Message-ID: <1993Apr1.193352.14381@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> References: <1993Mar31.223315.6643@wkuvx1.bitnet> <93091.093307ASG102@psu Date: Thu, 1 Apr 93 19:33:52 GMT I'm glad you like the idea...I've written the first entry in the thread; it involves Enn Piecy, so could whoever owns him please email me if he wants acknowledgement for the use of his character? I also encourage those of you who add to the thread to include your own thread iden- tifier in the header as well as [Storm]. (I know, you'll probably do it anyway...it's just the egomaniac in me who wants to see everyone else writing on a thread HE started... :) :) Anyway, I will post the first [Storm] entry as soon as I get the next couple of [AU] entries ironed out. Expect it to blow into your local newsreader sometime later today, tomorrow at the latest. Better make sure your storm shelter is prepared! :) (BTW...yes, there could be a chance that the storm is not entirely natural...the reason could either be someone wanting to wreak havoc on Generica, or perhaps an overzealous wizard who wants a chance to har- ness the terrific forces (lightning, winds, etc.) that can be found in great storms. Enjoy the possibilities...) -- Chris Meadows | Robotech/RIFTS/Palladium fanfic author/editor CHM173S@SMSVMA | They Might Be Giants about Star Trek aliens: CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU | "Everybody wants prosthetic foreheads CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU | on their real heads!" MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: [JOI] moving... Message-ID: <1993Apr1.163012.6530@ultb.isc.rit.edu> Date: Thu, 1 Apr 1993 16:30:12 GMT Admin[ quick question, where are we going on the horses, and is it to the port? or whould I just scrap that idea and ride along?] Segoi looks about a little confused. The horses look at him with skittish faces, and shie as he approaches, one even rearing away from him. "Alaron are we not going to the port yonder," he raises his arm towards the sea. "Or did I, in my hast miss something of import?" Upon saying this he moves back from the horses hoping they will clam down. 'The last thing I need is these beasts giving my nature away, bad enough the last group I was with thought me a werewolf!' He stands waiting patiently, eyeing the group from under his hat and cloak. Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolf@cheshire.oxy.edu (Clinton Richard Wolf) Subject: ADMIN: Frogs! Message-ID: <1993Apr1.212431.21226@cheshire.oxy.edu> Date: Thu, 1 Apr 1993 21:24:31 GMT ADMIN: Starting tomorrow, the new theme of APDI will be frogs. Everyone will become a frog, and I mean everyone. Frogs will rain from the sky. All buildings must be constructed from frogs, and in their description must say what type of frogs they are. The streets will be paved with frogs. It will rain frogs. The wind will be merely the sweet breath of billions of frogs. Frog ships will sail the Great Blue, which from now on will be known as the Great Green Frog. It will consist of infinite amounts of glorious, wonderful, beautiful amphibious frogs. Rowan Littlefair will now be known as Rowan Frog. So will everyone. Those with more than one word names must be known as [x] Frog, i.e., Lucas Frog... Sgt. T.E.Frog. One word names will simply be known as Frog. 'Raelf will be known as 'Frog. Serene will be known as Frog, but it will be pronounced 'Fuh-ROG- gah'. In accordance with this new official policy, all threads must con- tain the indication [frog] in the subject line. The Bestiary has been revamped and will now give explicit information on the over 367 kinds of happy, hoppy frogs living happy, hoppy lives in the Known Lands, which by the way will now be called the Known Frog. All other planes of exis- tance will be called the Unknown Frogs. Our plane is the Nexus of Frogs, which is the most important spot for Frogs everywhere. You have no choice in this matter. Nothing can prevent your becoming a frog. It is your destiny. Join us. Those who do not become frogs will be ruthlessly hunted down and destroyed by special Frog death squads. No execptions. Join, or die. Toads are not allowed. Thank you for your cooperation. -- Clint MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [AU] [Kardia] My Dinner with Andrea Message-ID: References: <1993Apr1.063421.24176@data-io.com> Date: Thu, 1 Apr 1993 21:29:22 GMT [ADMIN] This is posted for Liralen Li. Most of it is hers, but I added my own dialogue for 'Raelf at her request. Stuff in between the stars belongs to Chris Meadows. Mine you have to guess at. Sorry, Li, the title was just too hard to resist ;=} --------------- Kardia limped away from the Weaver's Guild, and looked up at the sky. The sun had slipped down near the horizon, and she realized that she had missed the noon meal. It would still be a while until dinner at Mrs. Cludne's. For a moment, she thought about going to the restaurant she had found on the Hill, but then shook her head. Where was it the guard had spoken of? Oh... yes... the Dragon's Inn. She got back onto Dragon's Lane and headed back toward the gate she came in on, and at seeing the Plaza, she looked for the corners and spotted the Inn and a large cat man walking in. Intrigued, she quietly pushed her way into the Inn. The first thing she noticed when in was the music coming from above her... She looked up and was shocked for a moment, thinking it was Alister so confidently and easily perched up among the beams of the place. His slender legs stretched along the joists and his pale hair brushing the roof. She looked a little closer and realized that his hair was not the silver white that Alister's was, instead, a creamier ivory. She saw his eyes and they were as pale as Alister's had been dark. She shivered and realized that she hadn't met enough elves, yet, if almost everyone reminded her still of Alister. She swallowed, realizing why she had thought as she had thought, the sweet singing voice was so like to almost be a twin. Confident and clear, and about the magic of music. Kardia suddenly blushed as she realized that he had focussed on her entrance and her face; and she wondered, a moment, if the stranger elf might have read her longing. She looked down, hurredly, and looked for a table. There were few empty tables, one was one away from the fireplace. A woman with an olive colored complexion was seated at the one by the fireplace, and the cat man was talking with her. Kardia's attention was caught by a small white creature also at the table, which was gazing, longingly at the bard in the rafters. She blinked again. It was a unicorn. A small unicorn, to be sure, but, nonetheless, a unicorn. She drew a deep breath in, and then let it out again, slowly. She went and took a seat at the empty table, and when the barmaid came up, with a baby in a sling across her chest. The barmaid smiled, "You look as if you could use a warm bit of cider and a hot dinner." Kardia smiled in response to the warmth in the smile she was given, "Yes, please." she said quietly, "What are you serving?" "How about roast turkey with fixin's and a salad?" "Salad?" blinked Kardia in confusion. Fresh vegetables in this technological level. Hmm... why look a gift horse... "Yes, I'd love a salad." As the barmaid bustled off, Kardia looked after her with amazement and shook her head at the food choices. Carefully, Kardia shrugged out of her gear, and laid the box on the table, the bag she hooked around her ankle and the staff she leaned against the wall. She sighed for a moment, just sitting on the bench, and then turned herself so that she could at least lean her tired body against the wall and see what the patrons of the place looked like. Her hand hesitated near the harp box and then dropped. She was tired enough that it would probably sound awful. Kardia closed her eyes for a moment, just resting. "Honey..." and a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Your food's done." Kardia sighed and opened her eyes, amused that she had remained seated even while sleeping. The barmaid shook her head at her, "Adventurers, never getting enough sleep. You should take care of yourself..." Kardia grinned at the tone and ducked her head. The platter that the barmaid carried smelled delicious. "Thank you..." Kardia said and looked a little lost as she suddenly realized she didn't know the barmaid's name. "Serene. I'm Serene." the barmaid said with a chuckle. "You certainly are, taking to sleeping patrons so easily." Kardia said slightly ruefully, "I'm Kardia. Thank you, Serene for the waking." Serene nodded and went on her busy way. At that point, Kardia was slightly startled at the appearance of glowing sphere of colors and lights. There were two more people at the table next to hers, far more formally attired than anyone else in the place. A young blond man was looking intently at the sphere, as was the olive skinned girl and the unicorn. The woman and the cat being went off, together to the dance floor. Kardia dug into her dinner, sipping the hot cider and curiously watching and listening to the conversation that went on before her. * * * While Andrea told her tale, Kardia listened quietly, her eyes narrowing just a touch at the tale of the transformation. She ate her meal quickly and neatly as she listened, paying more attention to her food with her eyes than she probably would have been doing if she hadn't been listening. At one point, she started studying the little unicorn and she frowned a little at what she saw. She finished her meal about the same time Andrea finished her tale and the other table turned to other talk. For a moment Kardia simply sat, frowning to herself. Then she smiled a crooked smile, took a deep breath, gathered her belongings and got up. She sighed at how stiff her body was after the workout of the day and her left ankle, calf, and leg were horrendously sore as they had compensated all day for the missing half of her foot. She leaned a little more heavily on the gnarled black walking stick than she usually did, as she stepped up to the neighboring table. For a moment, she just stood there, finally seeing up close the young woman who had survived the story told and her friends. Then they all realized Kardia wasn't leaving and looked at her. The blond man had a small, black stick he started to play with and Kardia saw the power about it and pulled the solid scarf closer about her throat. "Good evening." she said, unconsciously pushing back her dark red-brown hair to reveal her face a little better, "I overheard your story," she nodded in Andrea's direction, "and I think I might be able to help." Her voice shook a little with memories and at the steady regard of the people at the table, "I... uhm... I seem to have the capability to... well, undo magic..." *** Andrea looked up at her suspiciously, toying with a pen that she'd been fiddling with. She looked at Kardia cooly. "You can...undo magic?" she echoed. *** Tongue tied and looking for a way other than words to show what she meant, Kardia slowly picked up the grapple-arrow, gave a slightly nervous smile, and wrapped the end of her scarf around where the crosspin was. There was a small ping and she unwrapped the scarf to show the broken crosspin. The hook, however, was still shiney new and strong enough to hold the weight of a man. *** Andrea put the pin down and picked up the arrow, looking from it, to 'Raelf, to the strange woman who had just unfixed it. She handed it to 'Raelf. "What do you think of this?" She asked. Then she turned back to Kardia. "How did you do that?" *** "It's... I... well, I found out how I could do it after a... several brothers of mine went through something like what Sheryl went through. It took me a year to free them, but it shouldn't take nearly that long for someone Sheryl's size and there's only one of her." Kardia's grin was genuine this time. "I can't *do* any magic at all, I'm no great wizard or magician or anything, but I do now how to see what's holding a magic together and how to undo the parts I want to undo with a matching pattern. It's a little like what I did with the scarf and the arrow, the parts that are covered get undone and the parts that aren't don't... the patterns, though, with magic are... are..." Kardia shrugged in dismay a she couldn't find the words. *** Andrea looked at Sheryl, who was now peering at Kardia curiously. "So you can break magic...All this time, I've been looking for someone who could do that. Now it seems I've finally found her. The question is--" and she continued to gaze thoughtfully at the unicorn "--where do we go from here? *** 'Raelf had taken the grapple-arrow from Andrea, examining the broken pin. Finally a grin split his face. "Way cool! Raye, look here, what do you think?" He showed the two parts to the woman sitting across from him. "I think the lady should be invited to sit down," ar'Elya replied, and she pulled back a chair. "Please, be welcome to sit with us." "Thank you," Kardia said, sighing with relief when the strain was off her left foot again. She smiled at the woman, wondering briefly how she had gotten machine-woven raw silk around this town. Then her attention shifted back to the unicorn, who was sniffing at her scarf. "You'd better not touch, small one." Sheryl pulled her head back and gave Kardia a long, measuring look. "Milady disenchantress," 'Raelf said, placing the once-again-repaired grapple-arrow on the table, "I may wish to contract your services for another acquaintance of mine." "Disenchantress?" Kardia was taken aback for a moment. "I never sought such a title. Please, just call me Kardia." "I'm 'Raelf. My mate, who reminded us of our manners, is ar'Elya, and the tall furry fellow here is Khyra, you've met Andrea, and this is her sister Sheryl. Serene?" 'Raelf waved to the barmaid. She came over, Mista curled in her baby-sling on her hip. "What's your pleasure, oh good, you ate your veggies." "Yeah. Hey, howcome you keep showing up here, you're supposed to be at home, being all domestical." "Oh, but I like working, and Mary was so tired after the party that I thought I'd help her out. Besides, we haven't found a fulltime replacement for me yet, and I did say I'd work halftime until we found someone." "Cool. Could you please bring me a Catamount Porter?" She looked askance at ar'Elya, who sighed in disgust. "I can't help it if I react to the stuff. I promise I won't be drinking any, it's all for him." She pointedly took a sip of the elvenwine which she'd gotten with her dinner. Serene smiled and went away, returning in a moment with a glass of a stout ale so thick and black that it must have taken a spoon to serve it with. Kardia felt her mouth go dry at the sight of the stuff - bitters she could understand, but this liquid was on the edge of being a solid. "You're going to DRINK that?" she asked, and 'Raelf nodded and took a deep swig. Kardia noticed then that his eyes were changing color, going from sky blue to sea green, then to the yellow of candle flames, the brown of fresh-tilled loam, then black as the space behind closed eyelids. "For some reason this stuff works really well as a fuel for the kind of magic I do, and I'm kind of low on energy today. Anyway, here's the scoop on Sheryl. Andrea, could I please have the bio-scan record back? Thanks," he took the sapphire and, producing the flat box he had used earlier, he placed the stone on the center. The familiar globe of light sprang into the air, again showing the web of green lines that represented the spirit of the little unicorn. 'Raelf tapped on the box in a statacco fashion, and the web opened and focussed in on a particular image. "Techno-wizardry?" Kardia asked, and ar'Elya laughed and replied. "Not exactly. `Sufficiently advanced magic is indistinguishable from technology' - or so they say." 'Raelf waited for them to finish, and then nodded to Andrea - "If this is cool with you, I'd like to show her what we found out. You okay with this?" "I suppose. If Sheryl doesn't mind." The unicorn rested her head on the table, making her eyes all dewy so that ar'Elya would scratch her behind the ears. "Well, so far, no objections." "Way tube. So, here's the place where her original body-image was built, see how it's been completely removed? Did your brothers still go back to human sometimes?" "Once in a while." "Why does this remind me of something? Never mind. Anyway, I bet they still had their original body-images to revert to. But we'd have to build a new one for Sheryl, probably with Andrea as template, and it would most likely break down when your weavings got to it." "Perhaps not. It would be a difficult thing to work, though, making the pattern sensitive to one spell without disturbing a very similar spell." "Strewth, dudesse. Here, let me refocus - There, see how the Unicorn pattern connects in these four places? Well, this black one is the curse. The others are ones she grew, so they're natural to the way she is now. So if the curse was to go, she'd still be a unicorn, but she could be changed into other things if she wanted." "I see. Andrea, if you choose to have me remove the curse for you, then I can do it, but as 'Raelf said, it may not return her to human. Are you still interested?" Andrea sighed. "I think I need to talk to Sheryl for a while." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac169@Freenet.carleton.ca (Darryl Farr) Subject: Re: Storm-- Who's for it? Message-ID: <1993Apr1.230738.17715@freenet.carleton.ca> References: <1993Apr1.102252.4903@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: Thu, 1 Apr 1993 23:07:38 GMT In a previous article, hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) says: > > I don't know about the rest of the members in my group, but I think >that the storm is a good idea. While Elanon's company is on board the ship >I think I could handle encountering some bad weather. It would add a little >excitement to an otherwise dull sea voyage. What do the rest of you think? > > Heather Sexauer > (Aleric nhir'Lyorn) > I think this could be a good idea. It might provide at least a temporary common goal for the thread (JOI). Incidentally, I wonder if it might not be time to obtain a new title for the thread, as enough individuals seem to have "joined on in" to create a thoroughly populated story. The storm would have to be soon, however, as we will (probably) be leaving port quite shortly. Ildamar of Anaiatha -- Darryl Farr An old grey horse stood on the wall, The Grey Man As daft as he was high. He had no fear of falling down, ac169@freenet.carleton.ca He thought he was a fly. MagicHutchHeader From: albert@chain.ssctr.bcm.tmc.edu (Rick Jones) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [GaTM]/[STORM] Krupp [Ale House] Let's Make A Deal Date: 1 Apr 1993 23:11:55 GMT Message-ID: <1pfsrr$1o1@gazette.bcm.tmc.edu> Eventually, Farrel opened up shop and I zipped out the door. I had been doing some heavy thinking while I was in there. I had to find Numbers, Creft's ex-accountant. The problem was how. I had to act fast, before the rumor mill got into gear and people started finding out I was alive, or at least doing a bad imitation of it. That meant I had to find an info-broker. I couldn't hit my regular stoolies, they were cash-n-carry only, and I didn't have a quatloo to my name. However, right before I croaked, I had heard of one broker who traded in favors as well as cash. That I could do. It was a quick walk to the docks. I hadn't been there often. Most places in that part of town treated halflings as projectiles, not customers, so I tended to avoid it when I could. But, since I had no skin to lose, I was pretty confident I could stay out of trouble. I followed a group of sailors, fresh off the boat, and they led me straight to the Ale House. Nobody can find a cathouse quicker than a sailor. Must be how they find their way back to land. This place was pretty high class, considering the part of town it was in. I let the sailors go in, and waited a moment, casing the place. I straightened my hat, stuck the arrow in my coat, and walked in. I felt a tingle as I entered. It didn't feel particularly bad, but it definately made me a lot more aware. I hoped it was the house mage's weapons scan spell and not something dangerous. The cuddlegirl at the front wasn't half bad, for a human. Unlike most folks in her 'profession', she looked healthy. I guessed the Ale House didn't use Joystix as an inducement to remain part of the "family," unlike Creft's folk. She dimpled at me. "Hello, sir. And how may the Ale House serve you this evening." Obviously, she said it a zillion times a day, but she managed to put a little warmth in it. Rumors were right about the Ale House. "Krupp Faraway to see the Lady of the house." Her dimples faded. "She's a very busy woman." I made some dimples of my own and replied, "And I'm a busy man. Tell her I need her... brokering services." She shrugged, "Very well, why don't you have a seat in the bar and wait for a messenger. May I take your hat and coat?" I wondered if she could, then decided against it. "No thanks, miss." I walked past her into the main room. Personally, I've got nothing against Cuddlecribs, provided they're straight. The scum who pay the girls in Joystix are lower than Creepy Charlie, but places like this are okay. I hopped up onto a chair, and relaxed, as well I could in a chair ten sizes too big for me. A greasy Rameshander came out on stage, and shouted for the crowd to shut up. When the rowdies had calmed down, he said, "Gentlemen, the Ale House is proud to present.... Melina, the Enchantress." She must have been a crowd favorite, because they went ape. I pushed my hat back, and looked over to see what all the fuss was about. The crowd quieted down, as a small band on stage started up. A young woman wearing a strapless bathing suit walked out on stage, holding some kind of clear cape in front of her. She lowered the cape to neck level, and the crowd went wild again. I was confused, but then, I've never been too hip on human mating rituals. She lowered the cape some more, almost to her cleavage, and they went even wilder. She raised the cape some and started to dance around the stage, raising it a bit to "show" some leg. I was baffled. A little blue light flew in front of me and bobbed expectantly. I got up and followed it. It led me through a curtained off hallway and upstairs. The light bobbed in front of a think, oaken door. I reached out for the knob, not wanting to phase through the door. The door silently swung open on oiled hinges. Oppulance was the first word that sprung to mind, but it still didn't do the place justice. There were pieces of art from Rameshan to the Dark Continent, and a bunch of stuff even I didn't recognize. A semi-familiar voice announced from behind a painted paper partition. "So, Mister Faraway, what brings you here?" Oh Bog. Just when I thought it was safe. "Well, hello to you ar-" "Ale. Mister Faraway. In this place I am known only as Lady Ale." I didn't understand, but I didn't want to press it. "Lady Ale" came out from behind the partition, smoking a long, filtered cigarrette. "Now, Mister Faraway, how may I help you?" She gestured to a halfling sized chair. "Please, make yourself comfortable." I sat down. Why she was just one person here and a choir at home was her business. So I started to explain my business. "I need to find someone. Gnome named Numbers, kept books for Creft." "And what recompense do I received in return for this?" She took a deep draw on the cig, and blew the smoke out. It's a good thing I'm a dead halfling, or I'd be climbing the walls. Femme fatales never attracted me before, but she was doing something to me. "Well, I heard you often take trade. I can find out something for you, in return, or perhaps do some service. Surely you can find a use for someone with.... my abilities." She nodded, and took a breath. "This is true. Very well, I do have a need you can satisfy." I wasn't sure whether or not that was good. "There is an unknown faction developing in the Low City. It started among Creft's ex-employees, but is begining to spread. As of yet, my information network has been unable to penetrate their operation. However, someone with your... skills, should be able to it with little trouble." "Any sort of a time pressure on this?" I asked. She looked off into space, and thought for a moment. "Two weeks, for a status report. If you need more time, I can arrange it." "Done." I started to extend a hand and then jammed it back in my pocket. She smiled. "Numbers, former accountant of Creft is hiding out in the basements under the Twinfish Warehouse." "That's one of Creft's old warehouses." Shoot, I should have known. I started to stand, when a thought hit me. "Um, I'm no expert on what you humans do for fun, but what the heck is the appear of the dame with the transparent dohickey dancing around?" Ale laughed, and for a brief moment, I saw a little of her other selves. "That's free, my friend. It's not transparent. It's an invisiblity sheet. To the customers, invisible limbs and such are extending from nowhere. It's fool-the-eye. Dariel shows less skin than most my Artists, but the mystery draws them in. The sheet doesn't fool you due to your unique state." "Hmm. Well, I've got places to go, gnomes to see." I tipped my hat. "See you around, Ale." "Be seeing you, Mister Faraway." I slipped out a back entrance she opened for me. The weather had turned nasty while I was talking with Lady Ale. A big gullywasher of a storm was coming in from the sea. Boat folk on the docks were scurrying around battening down the mizzenmast, or something like that. The storm wouldn't bother me, but it might be useful. I stopped a harried looking sailor, and asked when the storm was to hit. "Half-pint, I don't have time for this. Two ships went down in the storm with all hands. The Sea Watch got caught with their pants down, and I have to make sure my boat doesn't lose it's rigging in the storms." He dashed down the street. I ignored the height thing. If my office was going to burn down, I'd be cranky too. If I had an office. It was going to be a big storm. Nasty too. I scrunched my fedora down on my head, and started off towards Twinfish Avenue. -- Rick Jones "You actually think you're a rebel? You're albert@bcm.tmc.edu not a rebel, you're psychotic." Systems Support Center "You say to-may-to, I say to-mah-to." Voice: 713-798-7352 -Veronica & Jason: Heathers MagicHutchHeader From: jclifford@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (jen/cliffy :)) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Bad food, good company Message-ID: <1993Apr1.183445.4911@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 1 Apr 93 18:34:44 -0500 horses, they're just _messy_. And I assume characters wouldn't deign to horses--I'm sure we could work something out--there is room on board ship for horses, they're just _messy_.] _walk_... :) ] Two days out, no land in sight. Not that this bothered Laurenth, she just missed the trees. And the petty bickering between Alarond and Darkin was enough to drive _anyone_ mad. Since Darkin started avoiding Alarond, an uneasy truce had been made. But something else had been bothering Laurenth, a nagging sense of something slightly out-of-kilter...something familiar. Every time she tried to pin it down, it escaped. Mealtimes were the worst--eating the beans, gruel and biscuits was bad enough. But what they called meat!!! She'd rather eat human. Not that she would, of course, but this ship's excuse for a cook was making bad ingredients worse!!! I could do better, she thought to herself. But then again, a babe of -five- could, too. After the latest bilge that passed for dinner Laurenth went on deck to try and calm her queasy stomach. She walked to the prow of the ship--the wind seemed fiercer there--and noticed another solitary figure. She heard the notes of a flute before she reached him. "Hello, Quaeros..." [ADMIN]...or note or aside or whatever. I am running out of time--I will finish this later, or someone else can take it and run with it. :) Sorry, y'all!!! :) jen/cliffy :) "It's better to laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints. The sinners are much more fun. Only the good die young." --Billy Joel MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Darkin?!?! Message-ID: <1993Apr1.183445.4912@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 1 Apr 93 18:34:44 -0500 Being on the ship with Alarond was not Darkins idea of a good time. He was always trying to pick a fight with her. So she lowered herself to his leval and started to pick back. This was not much to her liking, so she began to avoid him altogether. The ship was in fairly good condition and the feel of the wood was kind to Darkins hand. Leaning against the rail Darkin eyes followed the methodical roll of the waves. |I'm enjoing the adventure, I enjoy everything. I know I get on peoples nerves sometimes... but also I think that they get out of line too. Alarond had no business pinching my cheek. Its has been a while since I have been in the company of so many, maybe I have forgotten some of societies rules ... but I don't belive that that is acceptable. I don't think I am going to like this Alarond... he is so annoying!! I miss the land. This ship is too confining. Even Laurenth has found other company. I saw her earlier talking with Quaeros. They should get along fine. They have a lot of the same ideas about things.| The waves rolled on. The sun was setting over the water, but before it could touch the surface it fell behind a wall of clouds. "Another night passed away, leaving room for a new day." }Z{ "If life is a stage, I want more lighting!" MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] Quiet Time/"Cat" Burglar Date: Thu, 01 Apr 93 19:45:49 CST Message-ID: <16BA3115ED.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: Andrea Sheryl unicorn burglar inn 'Raelf ar'Elya ADMIN: I would like to thank Stephen Hutchison (hutch@hutch.intel.com) for his help. He's has helped me a great deal with my story, far more than just lending the use of his characters. He-- "Not that his characters aren't really nice, too." Huh? Hey, Andrea, you're not supposed to be on...the ADMIN note isn't over yet. "I don't care. I just want to say that I'm glad 'Raelf and ar'Elya have been helping me with Sheryl's problem, and that Generica is a really great place. I--" Andrea, you can't do this. Stop it. I-- >POKE!< Ouch! Hey, Sheryl, quit that! Hey-- "I'm taking over this ADMIN post." Andrea, put that dagger away. Andrea--! "While I'm at it, I would also like to say thanks to Kardia, she's really nice, isn't she, Sheryl?" >Whinny!< "And also--" (where's that DELETE key...ah, there) >ZOT!< Okay. Back in control. Ahem. On with the story. Once they were alone in their room, Andrea turned to look at Sheryl. "Well," she said. "'Raelf said that we should have a talk about what you wanted." She shrugged, smiling wanly. "Guess the conversation's going to be pretty one-sided, huh?" Sheryl snorted. Here she was, a unicorn, magical creature of purity and goodness, and she couldn't talk. It was one of the few great frustrations of her unicornish existance. "So, you like being a unicorn, eh?" Andrea said, in the manner of one who didn't know what she was supposed to say and was only talking to avoid an embarrassed silence. Sheryl nodded vigorously. "Why didn't you try to tell me, try to let me know how you felt before?" Andrea asked. Sheryl snorted and tossed her head, then fixed Andrea with a steady gaze. "Me?" Andrea touched her chest with both hands. "You didn't try to let me know because of me?" Sheryl nodded at this. Andrea sighed, and sat down heavily on the bed. "I see...I think I understand." She threw up her arms and collapsed backward onto the bed, staring at the ceiling but continuing to talk to the unicorn. "I guess you're right," she finally admitted. "These last several years I've been all but obsessed with finding the 'magical cure' for you, and never even thought that you not want to be 'cured.' If you had tried to tell me, I probably wouldn't have listened." Sheryl whinnied an affirmative, and stamped her foot as if to say, "Now we're GETTING somewhere." Andrea continued, "Even if the curse is lifted, according to 'Raelf, you'll still be a unicorn. So I guess that no matter what, you're pretty much stuck that way, and it would take another curse to change you back. And since you don't want to be changed back, it probably wouldn't stick anyway." Andrea got up off the bed and knelt before her equine companion. "Sheryl..." she asked, "are you sure this is what you want? I mean...just because you have a longer lifespan, magical abilities, and nothing to do except play and eat..." She trailed off. "Hell, when I put it that way, I wouldn't mind trying it for awhile myself." She grinned. "Yes, I think I see now. So where do we go from here?" Sheryl yawned, indicating that the only place SHE wanted to go right now was to sleep. "All right, all right...we can continue this discussion later. I have some more work to do tonight anyway." Sheryl cocked a curious eye at Andrea. "Don't worry about it, Sheryl. I just have some more stuff to fix tonight, that's all." As Sheryl closed her eyes and dozed off, Andrea pulled out her tool kit and looked at the remaining pile of equipment. While no artificer or tinker, she had taken several courses in equipment maintenance at the Selactican 'Guild and knew how important that skill could be. Andrea got to work, and gradually the pile of broken equipment shrank. She put a new hinge on the broken hand lamp, mended the torn strap on the leather housebreaker's harness, whittled a new handle to replace the broken one on a lockpick, oiled the glasscutter, and did whatever else had to be done to get her gear in top condition. By the time she was finished, it was about 10:00 p.m. "Hell, the night is still young..." Andrea said. "I might as well try out my equipment..." A couple of minutes later, Andrea had shouldered her backpack and walked out of the inn. In a nearby alley she pulled on her dark nightsuit and skin-tight gloves, and smeared black grease all over her face. She buckled on the newly-patched housebreaker's harness, and checked to be sure her climbing daggers and sharkskin gloves were where they were supposed to be. She wasn't sure what she wanted to do, but she knew that she wanted to do SOMETHING. For some reason, she felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. No longer did she have to worry about looking for a cure for Sheryl's condition...all she had to do now was stay alive. Andrea walked out into the Plaza of Glittering Steel. Most of the shops here had closed their doors already, and the owners had retired to their upstairs apartments. A couple of guards were in the square, but they were looking elsewhere. Andrea selected her prey. It was a large jewelry store across the square, with a sign hanging from it: "KARRIGAN'S QUALITY JEWELRY". Andrea grinned wickedly. It was always the larger places who could better afford a loss. Of course, they did tend to have better security, too...but Andrea loved a challenge. Keeping to the shadows, Andrea made her way around the square. The only danger zone would be the open, lit space she'd have to cross to make the building. From the shadows, she eyed the movement of the guards carefully...if they kept to their pattern, she should have a thirty-second opening about...now! Wasting no time or motion, Andrea dashed across the open space to an alley beside the jewelry store. The adrenalin started flowing, her heart started pumping. Had she been seen? She held her breath nervously. No, she guessed not. What now? She looked around. There was a side entrance to the jewelry store, off the alley, but it had been boarded up. "Probably some wise-guy troubleshooter's idea..." Andrea thought. No matter. This just gave her a chance to test some of her new equipment... Andrea unslung the light crossbow she'd purchased that day at Throcken's Armory to replace the one lost during her flight from the ship. The major grapple arrow that 'Raelf had fixed for her (and Kardia had re-broken) fit nicely, and a black-dyed cord attached to its end completed the ensemble. Now to aim it upward, and...>KA-THWUMP< >KLINK!!!< Andrea froze, thinking that the sound the arrow made must have been heard for miles, but nothing happened. "Nerves," Andrea told herself. "Still, it's good to have them..." She pulled on the line to take up the slack, make sure that it held. Okay, no problems there...She took the rope in her hands and walked up the wall. It was easy to do, and actually rather fun. Once she was on the roof, Andrea kept low, let she be seen silhouetted against the sky. She coiled up her rope, returned the crossbow and grapple arrow to their places, and looked around. There was a skylight in the center of the roof. Okay... The skylight was partially open. Andrea reached out to touch it, swing it open further, then decided against it. First she pulled out a flask of oil, poured it on the hinges, worked it in. Then she pushed the light open easily and silently. "Heh," she thought, "they ought to thank me for fixing this squeaky hinge." Andrea descended through the skylight utterly soundlessly, lowering herself down with her hands and then dropping with the grace of a cat to the floor. She could have used a rope, but didn't want it remaining there to give her away in case she had to go out a different direction. The room Andrea found herself in was some kind of a workshop. There were burners and pots for melting gold and silver, and spools of wire lying all around, and some magnifying lenses and jewelers' loups--the kind of thing you would expect to find where jewelry was being repaired. Andrea looked around, carefully. Okay...so far so good. She moved toward the door, keeping a wary eye out for traps, and picking up a couple of the loups along the way. Magnifying lenses were a very useful tool to thieves, and there were so many lying around that they might never miss them...ah! What was that--? Andrea stopped short of the door, and moved backward slowly. There, at ankle level...a tripwire. She followed it up the doorframe. Hmm, she couldn't see where it led, but it was better not to take chances. She stepped over the wire and continued onward, with the stealthiness of a shadow. Through the door was a corridor, and on the corridor a stairway. Also on the corridor were several other doors, presumably to the shopkeeper's quarters and other important rooms. Andrea made very little noise at all as she crept down the hallway and to the stairs. Her heart was pounding like a triphammer in her ears now... Andrea put her foot down, tested the first step carefully. No sound. She tested the next step. It creaked. No good. She tested the step after that. Creak. This really wasn't good. She couldn't afford to step on either of the next two steps--they would creak and possibly give her away. What could she do? Only one other option. Andrea grimaced, and climbed up onto the banister. A short (soundless) slide later, she was at the bottom of the stairs and looking around nervously for any sign of trouble. "Okay, no guards so far," Andrea thought. "Now, on to the showroom..." A few yards from the foot of the stairs was the entry to the showroom. Just a little bit farther... Andrea was about to creep into the door when the scrape of a chair leg on the floor alerted her that she was not alone. She froze, and faded into a nearby shadow as a heavyset man walked through the door, his hand scratching down the back of his pants, yawning, making enough noise to wake the whole village (or so it seemed to Andrea). How could she POSSIBLY have missed hearing him?! "Better be more on your guard next time," she scolded herself. The guard walked through a nearby door, and a splattering sound could be heard shortly after. He walked back out, fastening his pants, still oblivous to Andrea's presence, and went back into the showroom where there was again the sound of a chair scraping and wood creaking as the man settled into his seat. Hmmm, obviously this was a problem. But what could...? She had it! Andrea cupped her hands to her mouth and made a noise: "Meow!" "What?!" The guard got up, walked out. "Is that cat in here again?! Dammit, I hate cats..." He walked down the corridor. Andrea slipped into the showroom as he left. "Ah...this is perfect." The showroom was actually an addition onto the front of the original building. It had a high-vaulted ceiling with a huge chandelier hanging from the center. There were glass display cases lining the walls, and one in the central counter, too. The guard had been sitting on an old wooden chair in the center of the room, and a copy of the Generican Examiner lay open on the floor by his chair. Wasting no time, Andrea pulled something out of her pocket. It was a caltrop, a small, 4-pointed object usually used for tripping people up by injuring their feet. However, one of her classes at the 'Guild had suggested a different use for it. Andrea pulled a small flask out of one of her pockets. Holding the caltrop by one point, she poured a few drops of the contents over it. The fluid dried almost as soon as it hit the metal. Replacing the flask with one hand, she placed the caltrop on the chair with the other. Then she heard footsteps--the guard was coming back! When the guard walked in, ten seconds later, he yawned again, grabbed the paper once more, and sat down on the chair. A second later, he jumped up again. "Yow!" he said. "Something just poked...me...in the...but--" His eyes rolled up in his head. THUNK! Andrea dropped down off the chandelier and picked up the caltrop, grinning. "Heh," she thought, "that sleeping potion always does the trick. Lucky I never let that leave my person, woulda been hell to try to find another alchemist to make it around here..." She pocketed the caltrop, picked up the sleeping guard and set him down on his chair, and bent to her work. The magical lockpick on the Dagger of Resource, combined with her own natural skill, made the locks on the cases easy to pick. Of course, first Andrea had to be sure that picking them would set off no traps, and this she made sure of easily. These were just cheap locks, pure and simple. Why did the big stores always go in for the cheap lock-and-key bit? Andrea was very selective in her tastes, taking only the older, unnoticed gems, the ones in the very backs of the display cases that weren't quite as handsome as the ones in front. She hid these in secret compartments in her boots, her belt buckle, her dagger sheathes, and so on. Each gem she took, she replaced with a like-colored marble from the marble bag at her waist. Without close inspection, it could be days before someone noticed the loss. Not that it would matter all that much to them; they'd just chalk it up to fate and the insurance company would write it off. Andrea never stole from the little guy if she could possibly help it; it was always the big, impersonal places that got her attention. As she was done, she noticed the guard's eyelids flutter. Uh-oh, time to be gone. She locked the last case behind her and slid out through the door again, silently as a wraith. "What the--" the guard muttered. "I must have drifted off. Better go splash some water on my face..." He got up, walked out, looked around, yawned. As he walked into the washroom, however, there was another, "Meow!" Andrea's eyes widened. What--? She hadn't made that sound! The guard came out of the room, wiping water off his face. "What--Oh, THERE'S that damn cat..." He drew his sword. "Here, kitty kitty..." He walked forward slowly... Andrea looked where the guard was looking. There was a small, slightly scruffy-looking cat, a solid grey with three white socks, standing in the open. It looked around, confused, and mewed again. "Aw, hell..." Andrea thought as the guard walked right past her. "There's no way I'm going to let that brute..." So as the guard walked forward, intent on his slaughter, Andrea swiftly and silently stepped out of her hiding place, reversed her dagger, and clubbed the guard on the back of the neck with it. He went down with no fuss at all. Andrea looked around. "Great. Now what do I do?" she muttered. Fortunately there was an ornamental suit of field plate armor standing nearby. "Not a problem!" Andrea realized, dragging the guard over next to it. She grabbed his short sword, swung around, and struck it a great blow, making a horrific noise, then dumped the whole thing over onto the unconscious guard, making sure the helm was positioned on the base of his neck. She put the sword back in his hand. There was a noise from upstairs, a kind of combination of a scream and a "What in the hell--?!" Andrea permitted herself a quick smile, then ran over, scooped up the cat, and ducked underneath the staircase. From there, she watched the fun, and held the cat's mouth closed so it couldn't mew. A little man with a mustache, wearing a green nightgown came dashing down the stairs, dagger in hand, followed by a woman with her hair in curlers. "What in blazes is going on here?!" he demanded. "Lawrence! Lawrence!" He kicked the unconscious guard, who groaned and moved a little. "Look at--" He turned to his wife. "Look at this mess!" He picked up the breastplate of the fallen suit of armor. "There's a big dent here! He's ruined my suit of armor!" The guard groaned. "What the--hunh?" He looked up into the eyes of his boss. "Ow..." He fingered the welt on the back of his neck. "Who hit me...?" "Who hit you? You clumsy oaf, YOU hit my suit of priceless antique armor, it fell on you and knocked you out! Look at the damage!" "But--I was after this cat, and--" "Cats? Cats?! Don't talk to me of cats, you dolt! After what you've done--you're fired. That's it, you're fired. Get out of here, go, shoo, just get out." He waved his hands at the guard the way someone might try to fan away a disgusting odor. "I'll call a town guard to come in here and look after the place until I can hire someone else. Just get, go on, shoo." "But--" "But nothing! GO!" After the befuddled guard had stumbled out and the proprietor and his wife had returned to their room, Andrea managed to find a way back out of the building and into the alley. She put the cat down there. "You little devil," she said. "I guess my cat imitation was so good that you just naturally had to come and check it out, eh? Be off with you." She put the cat down, and started to make her way back to the inn. By the time she got there, Andrea had removed all her facepaint and suspicious gear and stowed it in her rucksack. She walked in, running her fingers through her hair, mentally calculating the night's haul. Probably three or four thousand gold pieces' worth, easy. She'd just have to wait until later to fence them. As she walked in, she saw that 'Raelf and ar'Elya were still at the table, talking to each other. Kardia and Khyra had apparently decided to call it a night. 'Raelf looked up at Andrea, then glanced behind her and said casually, "I see you've picked yourself up a new friend." Andrea turned, looked and saw that same grey cat was following her. "Well I'll be--I'd say I have at that." "What are you going to call him?" 'Raelf asked. Andrea picked him up, looked under. It was a him. Hmm, lucky guess on 'Raelf's part maybe? "Hmmm...well, he is a little thief, just like me, so I guess I'll name him after one. Yeah. Carson." "Hmm," 'Raelf said. "Kitten...Carson. 'Kit Carson'? I know I've heard that name before somewhere...or was it Johnny?" Andrea shook her head. "No, no...he's named for an old friend of mine from the Selactican Thieves' Guild. His name was Carson, too. First and last." 'Raelf shrugged. "Mary Littlefair probably has some scraps you could give him. Why don't you ask her?" Andrea nodded. "I will tomorrow. Right now, I think I'm heading for bed." She yawned. "It's been a tiring night." 'Raelf nodded. "Mm-hmm," he said. "Well, good night." "'night," Andrea said, going back to her room. Sheryl opened an eye and gazed reproachfully at her as she entered. "Oh, will you give me a break?" Andrea asked. "It's been a hard night." She unslung her knapsack and tossed it carelessly to the side of the bed, then set Carson down on the floor, made sure the door was closed so he wouldn't run out. "Look after that one for me, will you? I'm going--I can't--" She yawned, and collapsed across the bed. She was asleep within a few moments, clothes and all, leaving Sheryl to peer curiously at the little grey cat who was currently curling up to sleep on the rug at the foot of Andrea's bed. -- Chris Meadows || "The Zetons look like beautiful CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || women, but their tissues are made CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || of paper, so they burn, like paper." CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || --Captain Harlock, Ziv's lame-o dub. MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Storm] [AU] Storm Warning Date: Thu, 01 Apr 93 19:51:32 CST Message-ID: <16BA311744.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: [Storm] [AU] Sheryl Andrea unicorn Inn ADMIN: Here it is, the first message in the [Storm] thread. Remember to put your own thread identifier in the header with [Storm], if you have one. BTW, Enn Piecy is not my own character, but since I cannot find who owns him, I can't acknoweldge him personally. And now, let the rains begin! Out over the Great Blue, the weather happened, as it did always. Air patterns circulated, variated, acted on each other to produce precipitation or other effects. Only this time, something was different... Warm, moist air from the tropical regions of Nexus collided with cooler air from the northern glaciers. Gradually, a low pressure center formed, with high pressure areas swirling around the rim due to a shearing force that Terran scientists called the Coriolis Effect. Soon this disturbance gathered force, and it started moving toward Generica. <> Atop the Tower of Leviathan, an old, grizzled seaguard tamped down and lit his pipe. It had been a rather misty morning so far, but now the sun was beginning to shine through. But he observed the darkening horizon to the west with not a little trepidation. His bones had been acting up, and now this dark blot that was showing on the horizon only reinforced his suspicions. "'Morning, grandfather," the young man who emerged from the stairs onto the observation deck said. He wore a Seaguard uniform, but was probably little more than 18 or 19 years old. Of course the oldster wasn't really his grandfather; it was a title of respect that his advanced years had earned him. "See anything interesting out there?" The old man handed the wood and brass telescope he'd been using to observe the storm over to the young man, who took it with customary deference. "Look ye out over there," he advised. "At that dark blot on the horizon. What do ye see?" The youngster focused the instrument and took a glance. "It's getting pretty dark out there," he said. "Think maybe a squall is blowing in." "Aye, that's a squall. From the feel of these old bones it's going to be a big 'un." He took the telescope back and peered out at it some more. "I reckon we've got maybe an hour 'til it hits, maybe more." "But it looks closer than that," the young man said. "Maybe twice as near as all that." "Nay, sonny, that's not all that close. Don't confuse size with distance. It's big, that's what it is." "But at that distance...and that dark..." The youngster's jaw slowly dropped. "Impossible. It can't be that big--" "Aye, lad, it is that big. Bigger 'n any since long before you were born, I reckon. Come on, we'd best warn the townsfolk, that's what we're here for..." The oldster collapsed the telescope and stowed it away, then headed for the stairs. The young man took one more look, then followed rapidly behind him. <> Andrea and Sheryl had just emerged from their room after a suitably late night's work and long sleep-in. Carson the cat was still sleeping in--Andrea didn't blame him, it was past midmorning now and she still felt sleepy. When she'd awoken, Sheryl had still been staring curiously at him, and Andrea'd had to explain the whole story of how she'd gotten him before the unicorn would come to breakfast. Andrea was now ordering their breakfast from Serene as they sat at their usual table (which was 'Raelf and ar'Elya's usual table, too). Then it happened. A piercing noise sounded all throughout the bar. Several bottles and tankards of ale shattered, there was a sound of creaking timbers in the ceiling above, and some dust filtered down. The closest printed approximation of this sound would be, perhaps, "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" only much louder and more shrill. The noise was emanating from the 9th dark corner of the main room. One of the ubiquitous darkly robed and cloaked figure sat there, his hands clapped to his ears, a glowing crystal figurine of a male cow in front of him. "Who's that?" Andrea asked Serene. "What?!" Serene yelled, cupping a hand to her ear. "Who's that?!" Andrea repeated, as Sheryl desperately tried to hide under the table from the awful sound. "That's--!" Serene began yelling. Then the noise abruptly stopped, and Serene started over. "That's Enn Piecy. He claims to be a seer, and he often sits over in that corner." Andrea nodded. "Thanks, I was--" she began, but was stopped as a voice boomed out from Piecy's crystal bull. "Your attention please! This is a severe tropical storm warning from the National Wizard Service. There is a massive storm twenty miles southwest of Generica, moving northeast at approximately 30 miles per hour. This tropical storm system will strike with devastating force, with winds estimated from 70-90 miles per hour, tidal waves, and possibly severe lighting. I repeat, this is a severe tropical storm WARNING. This means that the storm has been sighted! "These types of storms have been known to spawn devastating tornados as well, and it is likely that there will also be severe flooding. All Generican residents are strongly advised to abandon your carts and hovels and seek some form of solid shelter. Acceptible shelters include basements, cellars, and reinforced stone structures such as towers or temples. Keep away from all glass windows! It is still possible for this storm to upgrade to hurricane force, which could be even more devastating, with winds in excess of 100 miles per hour. Take shelter, I repeat, TAKE SHELTER! Please stay tuned to this channeler for further information. That is all." The entire inn had quieted down at this announcement. Even Enn Piercy looked a bit shook. It took a few seconds for the general chatter level to get back up to normal, and as it was doing so, Andrea threaded her way over toward Enn, followed, as always, by Sheryl. "What was that?" Andrea asked. Enn shook his head, and pushed his hood back. "Why, you're only a BOY," Andrea said. Enn shushed her, looking around worriedly. "Don't go around saying that!" he said. "It's bad for business!" Andrea shrugged. "All right. But what was that announcement?" Enn shook his head again. "I think I tuned my crystal bull to the wrong frequency--I got the weather band." "Is that announcement legit?" Andrea asked, strongly resisting the urge to grab this young seer by the collar and shake him. "Huh? Legit? Oh, yes, the National Wizard Service doesn't lie. In fact, you might have noticed, if you'd been keeping an eye on it, that the barometer has been falling fast." He pointed to the ornately-carved wood and brass device that hung on the wall nearby, labelled with such conditions as "FAIR", "CLOUDY", and "CHANGE". And it was true, the needle was on the downswing, almost as they watched. "Hadn't we better do something?" Enn shrugged, and his mouth quirked into a half-smile. "I've been prophecying doom for ages and no one's believed me. Why should they believe me now?" Just then a Seaguardsman came running into the inn. "There's a big storm coming!" he yelled. "Everyone better take shelter, and we need volunteers to help reinforce the seawall with sandbags! It would hold against a normal storm, but this one is much bigger than any we've seen in twenty years!" As the inn customers looked back and forth among themselves in confusion, Enn took the opportunity to crow triumphantly, "You heard it here first!" Andrea walked over to the bar, and asked Rowan Littlefair, "Do you have a cellar?" Rowan nodded. "Aye, we've got the wine cellar..." "I suggest you open it up as a shelter. And any other underground rooms you have." Littlefair nodded. "Aye, it would probably be best. Womenfolk and children first, of course..." Andrea nodded. "Of course..." She walked back to her table and took a seat, humming an old tune she'd heard somewhere, probably from Fujiko. "Konya wa hurricane..." -- Chris Meadows || "The Zetons look like beautiful CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || women, but their tissues are made CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || of paper, so they burn, like paper." CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || --Captain Harlock, Ziv's lame-o dub. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: [JOI] on the way Message-ID: <1993Apr1.224955.12211@ultb.isc.rit.edu> Date: Thu, 1 Apr 1993 22:49:55 GMT Segoi stood silent for a while. Then slowly appraoching the horse he had chosen, extended his hand. Being as large as he it did not shiw so easily. In fact it just stood there and looked at him with wide eyes. After some coaxing and the offering of sugar cubes he mounted and rode after the others bringing up the rear. Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Ho Hum, are we there yet? Message-ID: <1993Apr1.203506.4916@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 1 Apr 93 20:35:05 -0500 [ADMIN] This is to clear up Cliffy's post which was cut short. Horses are usually stored in the hold of a ship and they do not make captains happy. But I added them because journeys of any length are by necessity elaborate ordeals involving much travel. Aleric stood at the rail amidship. The stiff sea breeze ruffled his hair, threatening to loosen the tie holding it back. For some reason the tangy scent of the ocean always invigorated Aleric. He stared out at the endless swells and allowed himself to relax briefly. In the bow Quaeros sat playing his flute. The notes of his melody drifted past Aleric, borne by the wind. It was in this manner that he heard Laurenth approach Quaeros. "Hello Quaeros. Do you mind if I join you?" she asked. Quaeros simply shrugged and gestured to the deck beside him. Laurenth sat, folding her legs beneath her. She listened while he continued to play. After a few minutes he stopped. "Okay. What is it? You wouldn't have sought me out if you didn't have something on your mind," he said without preamble. He carefully laid his flute in his lap and covered it to protect it from the spray. Then he leaned back against the ship's side. Quaeros had noticed the girl watching him at odd moments and particularly when he was praying. If she wanted a religious argument he would give her one. As it turned out, it was quite the opposite. "I am interested in your god and wish to find out more about him," she answered. "I would be happy to listen if you will tell me more of him." Aleric's eyes widened as he heard this. As Quaeros began his spiel Aleric decided to leave them alone. He crossed to the hatch and went below decks to the cabins. His companions were all relaxing in various occupations. Elanon and Ildamar were engaged in a friendly dice game. Segoi was off to one side watching the game, but keeping to himself. Alarond and Kyar were talking quietly about nothing in particular. Or rather Alarond was talking about nothing in particular while Kyar was listening half heartedly to the elf's monologue. Aleric smiled tolerantly and approached Darkin, who for once was not in the middle of everything. She was staring out a porthole gloomily. "What's the trouble little one?" he asked. She turned her head to look at him. "I am just bored I guess," she said with little of he previous vivacity. Indeed, she had been subdued for quite some time. Aleric had noticed that Laurenth had spent little time with her recently and the others tended to leave her out of things. He shrugged inwardly, /There can be no harm in showing a little attention to one who is so used to receiving it./ "Are you still quarrelling with Alarond?" "Not really. I just didn't like him picking fights with me. He wasn't being very companionable," she stated in an injured tone. "You two should at least try to be friends, you will have to work with each other for awhile. There may come a time when you'll need his aid," Aleric admonished. The worst thing that could ever happen to the group would be petty bickering among the members. He realized that Darkin would most likely be fine on her own, he was more worried about Alarond who seemed to be more than a little flighty. He hoped things would get better soon. Darkin flashed her usual impish grin and remarked, "He's more likely to need *my* aid before I need his!" Her spirits were lifting again, putting her in a better mood. Aleric spent the next hour cajoling Darkin into a good mood and allowing her to make jokes at his expense. It passed the time..... --Heather-- "Fire at will." hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu "Poor Will :(" --Anonymous MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hibschmn@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Johann Allen Hibschman) Subject: Re: Storm-- Who's for it? Message-ID: <1993Apr1.211407.17347@Princeton.EDU> References: <1993Apr1.102252.4903@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: Thu, 1 Apr 1993 21:14:07 GMT Sounds like a great idea to me. "The weather started getting rough, the tiny ship was tossed. If not for the courage of the fearless crew, the Minnow would be lost." Apologies to fanatics if I didn't get the quote quite right.... ;) Johann Hibschman (Quaeros, elven death cleric) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hibschmn@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Johann Allen Hibschman) Subject: [JOI] Quaeros tells tale of flute Message-ID: <1993Apr2.004750.9704@Princeton.EDU> Date: Fri, 2 Apr 1993 00:47:50 GMT Hearing Alarond's question, Quaeros stops playing and looks up. "The story of my flute? It has none, if you seek a tale of danger and daring. Its value to me is more personal." Quaeros holds the flute before himself so the faint tracery of runes running down its side is clearly visible. "These runes are pretty in their own way, are they not? I must confess that I do not know precisely what they mean, though I appreciate the beauty of their form and structure. I have spent many hours simply staring at the runes, fascinated, while trying to remember a song or thinking of the past. You see, this flute is the only link I have to my family or to my place of birth. Ever since I was but a young elf, living with my parents in the rooms above their woodcraft shop, I have had this flute. My mother gave it to me when I was barely old enough to comprehend its worth. I remember the day well, though I was but a few years old at the time. She said to me, 'Take this and let it help you through your life. Learn music, and rejoice in it, for it soothes the soul.' And then she said something that has mystified me to this day. As she gave me the flute, she muttered, 'I'm sorry.' When I asked what she meant, she turned away, and we never spoke of it afterwards. It was only a few years later, then, that the plague struck my village. Everyone I knew caught it, except myself, and everyone I knew died of it. I never get sick, and even this dread disease could not harm me. I forced myself to stack a pyre of my friends and relatives and to watch them burn. A few days later, Durkas, my mentor-to-be, arrived onto the scene, drawn by the rumors of the disaster. He found me sitting by the remains of the pyre and led me from the village. It was not until that night that I realized I had clutched the flute to my chest and carried it with me during the long ride. Durkas was the cleric who adopted me and guided me through my initiation into the service of Ronkel. The strangest thing about that plague was that it never spread elsewhere, although it was the most virulent pox imaginable within the confines of my village. It was as if the disease were targetted specifially on my family and neighbors. No matter, that was all long ago. I am here now, and I play my flute to calm my mind, to soothe my troubles, and to remember. The runes themselves are still a mystery. I only know that the style and some of the characters are the same as a line of runes I discovered on the edge of a drawing I found in a book on elven history. The book described them as an 'old runic script of the elves whose meaning has been lost.' Do you recognize them, Alarond? If not, perhaps someone else in this company might." Quaeros passes the flute over to Alarond, who holds it up to the light to examine the runes more closely. [ADMIN: If anyone in this group might be able to read these runes, email me, and we can chat. They may even have plot relevance. Well, at this point ANYTHING may have plot relevance... :) ] --------------------------------------------------------------------- Johann Hibschman | My brain hurts! Sorry! Shut up! hibschmn@phoenix.princeton.edu | Sorry! My brain hurts! Shut up! --------------------------------------------------------------------- MagicHutchHeader From: BGHO@MUSICB.MCGILL.CA (BGHO) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Jiri]: A Dream of Darkness. Message-ID: <01APR93.23086916.0124@VM1.MCGILL.CA> Date: 2 Apr 93 02:22:36 GMT [admin]: This takes place just after the post [Jiri] the Wolmage has come, and continues through the dinner that Kyhra, Andrea, Sheryl, 'Raelf and ar'Elya are having. Jiriku had left Kyhra in the Inn to sleep the Sleep of the Sylvan and walk the Dreamlands. The Wolfmage turned away from his furry friend and walked towards the shadows in the nearby corner of the Dragon Inn. As the shadows met with his form, he melded with them, darkening, then dissapearing. He walked through the Shadowhall for a short distance, then opened a door from the seemless wall. Stepping through, he walked from the shadows, just as he had earlier entered them. He was no longer in the Inn- in fact he was much further from it than the ten paces he had taken should indicate. A deer drank deeply from a silver brook that ran nearly through the middle of a clearing which was surrounded by dark and ancient trees. As the elf walked out of the shadows of the trees, the deer started, for no scent nor sound had warned of an approach. As the doe turned to bolt for the safety of the trees, a quiet hushing breeze blew round her head, calming her. She turned back to the newcomer to the clearing and a joyful light glinted in the nearly black eyes as she saw that the figure who had startled her was one of the Fair Ones. "My apologies, great mother, for my sudden appearance. I meant not to startle you," a gentle voice passed into her thoughts. The doe walked calmly over to the sender of the voice, who extended a graceful hand to scratch the spots behind the ears. "I am in need of answers, mother. The wind blows wrong, and the streams are no longer as clear. The air smells not sweet, and the shadows appear deep." The doe tossed her head in a sort of agreement as Jiriku continued to scratch her perpetual itch. "What causes the rabbit to start, and the bird to flee? What causes the fox to hunt the farmers chicken, and the eagle to fly so low?" The doe looked the Sylvan in his golden eyes. As she gazed into his shimmering depths, the eyes changed, first seeming to darken, then almost swirl as they took on a greenish blue tinge. The colour of the sea... "Ah, great mother, I see what you feel. The answer lies with the sea, though it causes question in the forest." Jiriku seemed not to be looking at the deer anymore, but at something only he saw, something within his own eyes. "Then I must go to the sea," he continued after a long moment. "The sea, for it is there that haunts the beast, there that ails the forest. Thank you, mother, for your insight. Ever do your kind know, and see, and ever have you shown the Sylvan. My people are ever grateful for your help, ever admiring of your beauty." The doe tossed her head once more, as if to wave off the compliment. "Go know mother, go to your children. Guard them well, for they are your greatest prize. I must go now, to another forest, and the sea. I go to walk the Dreampaths." Jiriku's hand fell away from the does ear, and she turned and ran smoothly from the clearing into the depths of the great trees. Jiriku sighed as he took a look around the clearing. Yes, he must walk the Dreams, and try to find that which was plauging him with ill forebodings. He walked to the brook and touched its waters, then drank deeply of its sweet depths. A moment longer he stood looking into the swirling waters, then he broke the gaze and walked to the clearings center. The Wolfmage touched briefly the amulet that hung around his neck, the Ahnk that Dargon had worn for all those centuries, the one that he had given Jiriku when last he had seen him. When he named me Wolfmage, Jiriku thought painfully. A day of pain it was, but of triumph as well. "Well my friend, you named me aright, and I hope that I have lived up to your expectations. I vowed that I would think of you always ere walking the Dreampaths, though it's not often that you are ever far from my thoughts. Where are you, Dargon? Where did the great Watcher go? Even the dragons know not where you be. That I find most strange. Ah, but I dally. Perhaps my best place to seek thee lies in the road ahead. My people have always spoken so, yet now when I seek something I listen not to their redes. Ah, but it has been long since last I dreamed." With that, Jiriku began to sing, his voice almost indestinguishable from that of the brook. As it grew in strength, slowly, it seemed as if the water itself did. The sad voice of the Sylvan carried quietly on the still breeze, and wherever the animals of the forest heard it, they paused and listened, for he sang the Lament of Ton'githala. The oldest of all musics calmed the forest, as the Wolfmage began to enter the sleep of his people. It is hard to say how long he sang, for even time seemed to pause to listen with the woods. But the song began to fade, and when it was no longer heard at all, though it still whispered and echoed in the mind, Jiriku Goldeies was gone from the living and waking world. - Dani Treutler. (will be continued soon...) MagicHutchHeader From: bgho@musicb.mcgill.ca (Kalhad the Black) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Storm] [Jiri] [AU] Darkness Hits Date: Fri, 02 Apr 93 01:03:34 CST Message-ID: <16BA4EE6.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: [Storm] [Jiri] [Wizard] Kyhra Jiri Andrea Sheryl unicorn ~Date: Fri, 02 Apr 93 01:14:59 EST ~From: Kalhad the Blackk To: ~Subject: [jiri] [storm] [au]: Darkness Hits [admin]: Thanks to Chris Meadows for the great storm idea, and the use of his characters, Andrea and Sheryl. I hope I didn't use them too poorly. ;) Cheers, Chris. [note from Chris]: Don't worry, Kalhad, you didn't. :) Kyhra groaned and rolled over, trying to escape the sliver of sunshine that kept snaking its way through the cracked shutters and into his face. Finally, after much tossing and turning, and much more cursing, he sat up, deciding that he'd get no more sleep that morn. Sitting up was a bad idea. The blood rushed out, then slammed back in as his head came up too quick, resulting in a deafening (for Kyhra anyways) crack on his sore skull from the inside out. After taking a moment to steady himself, the huge Kalnarian looked--slowly--around the room he was in, trying to place himself. Dammit, he thought, where in the nine hells am I? After a few minutes, his head stopped its throbbing and he was able to stand. His sword and belt lay across a chair that was in pitiful repair and his cloak lay crumpled on the floor of the tiny room. Kyhra muttered another curse at himself for not remembering where it was that he had spent the night, nor how he got there. He began to rise slowly, to be sure that he didn't get another head rush, and when none came, he stood up more quickly, only to crack his head on the low ceiling. A terrible roar of pain and rage was heard downstairs and out upon the street and many crossed themselves and shuddered, looking nervously around for its source. It's soure was, of course, a severely hung over feline warrior, who had smoked his acheing head against the very same beam on that low ceiling that he had before going to bed. That beam was the source of his headache in the first place, that and all the dwarven ale he had consumed at the Chimera last night. Gently massaging the tender spot, Kyhra sat back down and slowly the nights events came back to him. After the dinner he had had with Andrea, Sheryl, 'Raelf and ar'Elya, he had left the Dragons Inn to look for information--and more drink. He'd gone down to the Scrappy Ram first, but found little besides good ale. The 'Cobra didn't even have that, but he'd won some money on a fight. And a good fight it was that he had. That stinking troll had been far to sure of himself, and hadn't expected that the man-cat would have anywhere near the speed that he has. A big mistake, that many opponents make when facing the massive feline. After the fight, he'd headed to the Harbour. It was there that he found what he was looking for. He'd also won more money betting on the knife fights at one of those bars, though he didn't participate in them this time. It was at Ratty's that Kyhra had met a man who told him what he wanted to know. Cain _was_ running a ship, and it had left on a trading (smuggling, Kyhra immediately decided) run some time ago. It was due back in Generica soon, though it didn't ever run a discernable pattern between ports. Kyhra didn't ask the greasy weasel-like sailor how he knew what he did, but he could sense that it was the truth--as far as the sailor thought, at any rate. It was after he left Ratty's that Kyhra had run into his trouble. It was trouble of a good kind, of course, for it really wasn't a problem until the next day. Which is this morning, he reminded himself, even though his head was doing a good enough job of it for him. He'd caught a scent of dwarves on the breeze, and more importantly, dwarven ale. He followed it the the local dwarves hangout, a bar called the Chimera, or something to that effect. Kyhra had always had a taste for Dwarven Ale, and loved the company of its brewers, and his arrival in Generica had changed nothing of his tastes. (Except maybe for a better appreciation of mages, one certain female one in particular. That vision that he had seen in ar'Elya's eyes had startled him at first, but it also gave him a keen interest in her.) He had spent the rest of the night drinking with his favourite warriors and his favourite drinking companions, no less. It was almost as if he were in the company of Ballethor and Kroth, and their fellow dwarves of the Grimmhaven. They were a people that seemed to change little, or not at all, no matter which land of which world you where in. As it turned out, a bunch of them took to the feline warrior as well, and engaged in a friendly game of Orcbane with six of the other patrons. Orcbane was an aptly named game, for it entailed the drinking of enough stout harsh ale to turn even an orcs stomach. Not many people besides the dwarves themselves can handle vast amounts of their ale. Luckily, Kyhra was one of the few. He had even nearly attempted to take a shot of the legendary drink of the Chimera, but by the time that somebody suggested it, he was too drunk to hold a glass steady, and was lapping his ale with his tongue, the way cats do. The walk--er... stumble--home was a vague spot in his hazy mind. He remembered the walk itself, just not how he had known which way to go. He'd found a scruffy inn and decided to stay there for the night, instead of going all the way back to the Dragon. Groaning once more, Kyhra stood, more careful about the ceiling this time, and picked his cloak up off the floor. Putting his belt back on, he fastened his scabbard to it, and slung his scimitar around to his left hip. He fastened his cloak and straightened it out as he stepped through the low door into an equally low hallway. After a few short paces, the ceiling heightened as the slope of the roof rose to its' peak. A creaking, cracking stariway led down to the small tavern room on the main floor. Kyhra decided not to stay for breakfast--he'd get better at the Dragon, and probably cheaper too. He couldn't remember paying for last nights lodging already, but nobody made a move to stop him as he left. Kyhra looked around, and noticed that it seemed a little darker out than it had when he woke up. Looking at the sky towards the sea, he could see that it was much darker than it should be at this time of day, even though no clouds showed above the buildings. Yet, he thought, for he could scent that a storm was on the way, even if he couldn't see it. And the scent was not good. This would not be a little squall, or heavy thunderstorm. This was a REAL storm coming, the kind that he hadn't experienced since the Dargon of the Dragons had unleashed the rain that had been held back for months over Wvendon. Magic had created that drought, and magic had ended it. He thought that perhaps there might be magic involved in this one too, for it had a similar scent. The catman shrugged and began to make his way towards Dragons Lane. The storm was coming, and there was nothing that he could do about it. It didn't take long to find the Lane, and he was surprised at how close he'd actually been to the Dragons Inn last night. Now why did he choose to stay in that little ramshackle place anyways? Again he shrugged, for there was nothing that he could do about drunken decisions of the past either. Just as the Dragons Inn came into sight, he heard a shouting commotion down the street behind him. Men shouting. Sounded like they were spreading a message though, as there was no clash of steel. By the time he reached the Inn, a red-faced man of the Sea Guard had overtaken him. He entered right behind the man as he shouted his warning of the storm to those within. A young looking seer in the corner jumped up and shouted something about hearing it here first, or somesuch. Kyhra looked around the Inn, then spotted Andrea and Sheryl talking to Littlefair at the bar, and made his way over to them. "Good morn to you, milady. And to you, noble creature of Sievnaer," he nodded to the two sisters. Before he could continue though, he heard a crash, then as he turned to look someone called his name. No, not just someone, it was his friend, the Wolfmage. "Kyhra! By the gods I'm glad I found you," Jiriku said quickly as he hurredly made his way over to join his companion. The elf had a harried look on his normally exquisite face, and his eyes did not softly sparkle the way they normally did. "Hold on, Jiri! Calm down...and why the flashy entrance? You don't normally enter a place with a bong and a flash," Kyhra commented slyly. "This is not a normal time, my friend. I had to break out of my sleep quickly. You know not to have expected me for another day or two, but I had to leave the Dreampaths. I had to come warn you." "About the storm? We already know. I had smelled it before the Sea Guard came and warned everybody. Is it magical, Jiri? I scented something in it, almost like when Dargon called the rain at Wvendon." "Dargon didn't call the rain, Kyhra, he merely released it from the magik that held it back. No, this is different. I think it _may_ have been summoned. There is nothing normal about it, as far as I can sense. But that's not all..." "You're starting to worry me, Jiriku Goldeies. Let's take this one step at a time. I've found Cain." "You found him? Where is he? I don't sense him anywhere nearby." "No, he's not here," Kyhra explained. "But he will be soon. He's running a ship on trading missions. He's due back within the fortnight. Maybe even sooner." "Are you sure it's him, Kyhra?" Jiriku asked cautiously. He knew than to get hopes up on false conclusions." "You want to know the name of his ship?" Kyhra immediately countered. "The Soulstar." "Yes Kyhra, you're right. It _is_ him. It could be no other. Only myself and your ancestors have left for other worlds since then. Cain as well, and maybe Dargon, but not even the gods now where that old wizard is. Yes, only Cain could name his ship after the doomstar." Suddenly Kyhra smacked himself in his still acheing forhead, wincing slightly, as he saw a curious white equine looking in what was almost awe at his elven friend. "Oh, by Thrakcs two beards, Jiri! How rude of me! I forgot to introduce you to our new companions." The Sylvan was admiring the young 'corn with nearly the same look. Kyhra had never seen Jiriku in awe of any living creature before, and he knew that elves seldom were. "I am truly honoured, Fairest One," came a clear voice into Sheryl's head, even thought the elf hadn't spoken. "It has been a time beyond reckoning since Sylvan eyes set upon one of the Purest. As the Prince of the Sylvan, I welcome the return of such sight, though I wish that I could instead be welcoming your kind once more unto the Sylvanwood." Then aloud, he spoke, "I am Jiriku Goldeies, Firstborn of the FirstLord and the Lady of Dai'Seppa. I am honoured beyond reckoning." The elf bowed low before Sheryl, his graceful movements almost seeming to speak of the depths of the honour he spoke of. If it was at all possible for a unicorn to blush, Sheryl would have then, for she had never had such an important seeming person bow like that to her. "And your name, little horn?" Jiriku asked when he had straightened. Even as Kyhra opened his mouth to speak her name, Jiriku continued, "Please to make thy aquaintance, Sheryl." At a curiously gaurded look from Sheryl, the Wolfmage explained, trying to set her at ease. "Always have my people had a kinship with the fair creatures of the forests. Worry not, I cannot, nor would, read your mind. I'll only hear what you tell me." Sheryl realized then that she _had_ nearly been screaming out her name inside her head. She then turned and trotted back over to Andrea, who was still talking to Littlefair about preparations for the storm. Jiriku and Kyhra followed her, and waited for Andrea to finish asking about the cellars and other safe places to hide. Kyhra nodded to the lady thief and indicated his elven friend with a furry paw. "Milord, this is Andrea, a brave and noble adventurer." Andrea gave the elf a slight curtsey and a smile. "Andrea, this is my companion and my ward. The Wolfmage, Prince Jiriku Goldeies of the Sylvanwood." Jiriku performed another graceful bow, though this one was not so formal as the previous. "I am enchanted to make thy aquaintence, Andrea. And please, just call me Jiriku. Kyhra always does try to make me sound more important than I really am." Here he gave the Kalnarian a joking reproachful look. "And I am delighted to meet you too, Jiriku. But right now there are more pressing matters at hand. That storm's still coming." "Yes, it is," Kyhra agreed. "They need help bagging up the Sea Wall. I'm going to head right down, if Littlefair is kind enough to pour me an ale first. I've got a splitting headache, and I'll need to dull it a little afore venturing into the very heart of noise itself!" The bartender gave Kyhra a knowing smile as he obliged to pour a good stout ale for him. "Here's just what you need my furry friend. A good Faerick Stout. It'll dull any pain, drink induced or not!" Kyhra gladly took the offered mug and tossed a silver to his kind saviour. Jiri laughed and slapped the warrior on the shoulder. "Don't ever change, Kyhra. I wouldn't know what to do with you if you did." Kyhra and Andrea joined him in the laugh, but it only lasted a moment and then serious expressions were worn again. "I would go with you Kyhra, but I would be of no help. Leaving the Dreamlands so suddenly and urgently drained me of my energy, both physically and mentally. I'll need to rest, and my skills will better be used here with the injured who will definitely come. I can manage to muster the strength for a few healing spells still, and my knowledge of healing is enough to do some good even without magik." Kyhra nodded and knocked back his ale. "Aye, I think you have it aright there my friend. Leave the work to us hale men, not the old doddering granthers like yourself." Jiri scowled. "Why you...watch that tongue, or you might find that it turns into that of a dog, and you'll be panting and drooling all over yourself." The scowl quickly turned into a smile and the two friends shared another laugh. "Well, now to get to it. Fare thee well, Wolfmage. Look after him for me Andrea. He tends to get himself into trouble when I leave him alone." "Oh, and you steer clear of it yourself, Kalnarian?" Jiriku flicked his hand and suddenly Kyhra was reminded of the hangover that he was nursing "Stop it, Jiriku. I don't use magik to make _your_ hangovers worse." Jiriku laughed and waved his hand again, removing the throbbing pain he had put on his friends head. "Godspeed, Kyhra, and tread carefully." The catman left with a fierce smile on his face and joined up with some of the others who were heading down to help with the Sea Wall. This storm was going to be unlike one he had ever see before, that he knew. -Dani Treutler. [Final note: This message has been reposted by Chris Meadows, chm173s@vma.smsu.edu. I have attempted to set the address in the header to that of Dani Treutler, but in case replies to it fail, well, his email address is right above this paragraph. :) ] ---Chris Meadows MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Review / BB swap Date: 2 Apr 1993 03:04:55 GMT Message-ID: <1pgagn$447@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: archives ADMIN: Due to the way we read and post on A.P.D-I, Michael Sander and I have decided to swap ADMIN tasks relating to the Bulletin Board and the Review. Michael will post the Review when warranted, and will include a summary based on his reading (that I did not have time to do) in addition to the normal submissions and the thread summary. I will post the Bulletin Board weekly (something that Michael found harder to do than I). All submissions for the Review and new thread summaries should go to Michael Sander <344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu> and all new entries for the Bulletin Board to me ..sage There may be one more BB post from Michael, but no more Reviews from me. I will still post the MiniFAQ. Anyone listing who posts which ADMINs: could you please adjust your lists to reflect this fact. ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: [JOI] the voyage Message-ID: <1993Apr2.134642.2921@ultb.isc.rit.edu> Date: Fri, 2 Apr 1993 13:46:42 GMT Sitting as he had all day watching the waves crest and fall, tempers flare and subside, Segoi listened now to the notes of Quaeros's flute. Unlike his own made from some strange material, the sound of Quaeros's was soft and natural. Dakin wandered by, doubtless coming from a fight with her nemesis, and stopped to look inquisitvely at him, sitting alone at the stern of the ship. The stears man paid him little attention, and Dakin wondered why he was just so big? Half turning she spied Laurnth going up from the cabin with a sickly expression on her face. 'Hmmmm must have been the food.' Then another thought struck her, she had never seen Segoi eat anything. Pondering all this she walked on slowly keeping her balance under the rising swells. Segoi watched her go. He wondered at one so young, and so full of questions about the important things in life. So young...he looked forward across the sea. Storm clouds were building away off to the port side, and a flash of lightning lit the waves far out there. A lone bird flew over the ship and away again before them as if messanger. Reaching under his cloak with a gloved hand he retrieved, for some inner pocket, a book, leather bound with a iron clasp. Not a large book but a strange one filled with runes, scratchings and other characters. Silently he sat reading this. Waiting... Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader From: vaughan8670@iscsvax.uni.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [SQ]Radan finds His crew, Angus, and maybe Delmara in his room... Message-ID: <1993Apr2.033641.11996@iscsvax.uni.edu> Date: 2 Apr 93 03:36:41 -0600 Radan was heading towads the Dragons inn, which was his old haunt anyway, but he caught a glimpse of a pub that might be more of his style of need. The snow was still crunching under his boots, and the wind was picking up again. He passed a bar named the Net and Trident. There seemed to be a few sailors passing him into the bar and Radan figured that he might as well try. Shrugging, Radan walked into the Net and Trident, and was instantly greeted by a radiating warmth and baudy singing that wasn't too out of control. There was a plain dressed woman with a barmaid's apron on and delivering drinks to a group of sailors. The bar was interesting, there was a pit in the middle of the room, with sand and it looked like dried blood on the walls around the pit and in the sand itself. There was a barkeep that was a haggard looking man, with a patch over one eye. He was talking with a group of sailors at the bar, they seemed to be down about something. But The bartender tried his best to liven their spirits by telling a less than reputable joke, and they all laughed hartily. Radan had the inclination to head to the bar and order something and get some information. As he approached the sailors looked wearily at him, eyeing their drinks with a look of dull acceptance. Radan smiled and sat down at the bar and waved the Bartender over to him. "Aye' laddie, what might ye be wantin'?" He drawled out, in a thick sea lover accent. "Ah yes, I would very much like an ale please, and some information. I am an owner of a ship, and I need a crew to man her. I am willing to negotiate a price for a voyage to rescue a friend in need. It is minimal work, no fighting with any other vessels, and I am willing to pay well for it." Balthar looked at the gentleman that just casually anounced to him that he needs a crew. "Oh you say so, well now, let me see I think there might be some men here that can help ye. These men here have just come off a ship that was confiscated not too long ago, the owner was in debt up to his crew's ears!" He pointed to a group of 5 men mulling over their ale, and muttering to themselves. "Thank you my good man," Radan flipped a gold on the bar, "Keep the change for good luck." and shook Balthar's hand. He picked his tankard up, and walked over to the men at the end of the bar who were sullen when he first approached. "Good day gentlemen, I have a proposition for you..." *** A couple hours of drinking, and there was a crew that would walk the plank for Radan. A man named Blythe was the one man that didn't drink too much, and stayed pretty sober through the discussion. "Sire, what ship might it be that we're voyaging on?" Blythe had requested. "Ah, the ship's name is the Crimson Moon. I just pur-" "You're puttin' me on! We came from that ship! we know that ship like the back of our hands, we do. Any time we could oblige, we'll be on the ship first thing in the morning." "That's reassuring. That is very reassuring. I am going to be at the ship tomorrow morning just after sun up. I hope to see you there Blythe. Your position will be 2nd mate, for there is already a captain and 1st. Bring the men and you will have clearance to board ship when I get there. Payment will ocurr just before boarding. Half now, and half after the voyage is done and we are back in port. I will see you later, I have an appointment to attend to now, but thank you for accepting the job." Radan emptied his mug, and then headed for the door. Blythe in retrospective said to his comrads, 'Strange one there, never seen so much devotion in a friend; as well as an owner that is courteous to his crew.' Radan made his way back to the Dragons INN. It was getting to be around dinner time, and he hoped that Delmara would still be there. Delmara. Every time he looked at a woman, he saw her. Every time he heard a woman's voice, it was hers. He would close his eyes, and see her warm and supple body holding him. He could still feel what they had shared, and could still smell the lavendar in her hair. He had to get back soon. He started to head to the Inn as fast as he could... *** Angus was waiting in the common Room in the Dragons-Inn. he was drinking his spirits, and waiting for Radan to get back. He knew that his new friend had gone off to get a ship for hire, and he also knew that his new found friend needed him. It was strange why he was doing what he was doing, he wasn't sure what the exact reason was. It must be something about this Radan that had drawn Angus to him. Like a long lost friend or something. He sat at the Bar, looking around, enjoying the minstrel playing his music for the crowd assembled. Angus' stomache growled. "Littlefair! I would be most gracious if I could get a plate of beef stew and some potatoes. Thank you kindly." Angus put the little money it cost him for his meal, and thanked Littlefair for his service. Just about the time he was done with his meal, Radan practically burst in the door. He seemed a little wild eyed, but he caught a glimpse of Angus at the Bar and decided to head there. *** As Radan got to the door, he was worried that Delmara had left. He wasn't sure where to find her if she had. That bothered him greatly. He burst into the Dragons-Inn, it was hot with the fire hearth going, and the light from the lanterns caught him by surprise for a moment. He was about to go upstairs when he saw Angus at the Bar. 'Oh sh- well, I have to talk to him, damn I hope she's there when I am finished. ' He headed directly for Angus, and once he got there, he shook the man's hand. "Ho Angus! Well met, and glad to see you here. I have a ship that will take us where we want to go. I understand that you have certain abilities with Navigating a ship?" "Aye Radan, I do..." Angus replied, understanding what Radan would probably need. "Good, I need you to navigate my ship-" "What? Your ship?" Angus was a little astonished. "Yes, I bought one today. I also searched for hours in and around the dock area and no one would accept the mission. Said it was daft goin' out in weather like this. I finally saw a post going by the First Bank of Generica and it read that there was an Auction of foreclosed ships, so I went and found my ship. It's called the Scarlet Moon. I have most of the crew already, they were from the ship originally, and they trust me, I think. I do know that I need you, Merol, Bronwen, Mistletoe and the others in the group. They are the ones that can help recover Shade, I don't know how, but I do know that I can find him when we get into the approximate area of the battle. Where are the others by the way?" Radan finally stopped with his barrage of information and waited for his friend to answer. "Well, I have been here most of the day, waiting for you, I haven't seen anyone from the group you just mentioned. Then again, I might have been too involved with my drinking and headaches to have noticed. I only hope that the group would have come to see me if they saw me. If you understand what I just said." Angus replied. "I did. Oh, hey, you didn't see a woman leave with a red dress on did you? Wait, you just finished telling me that you weren't really watching too closely. So, a stranger wouldn't probably catch your eye, since, most of these people are strangers. I do have something to tell you though Angus. I think that I have found the woman that I will marry, if she will have me. I know that it's really too soon to say something like that, but I do know that this woman in Red, is the woman that I would live, and die for, if I had to. I am in a hurry, so, I will leave you to yourself, I will be back down in a short while, or so." Radan didn't really wait for an answer. He just sped off to his room. He only hoped he wasn't too late. He thought he remembered her say that she had a temple, the temple of Aditi. Down the way. If she wasn't here, he would try there. If not there, he didn't know what he would do... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: clayton@austin.ibm.com (Clay Colwell) Subject: [TW] [Storm] The Quest Continues? Message-ID: Date: Fri, 2 Apr 1993 18:31:07 GMT Eski listened carefully to Ixnaphior's and Moria's words, trying to figure out where he might be able to help in this quest, this royal rescue. As the two talked, he quietly ordered another dwarven stout. Time distortions. According to Ixnaphior's account, this new plane was lousy with them. "That might explain the explosion that wrecked my travelling device," Eski thought to himself. "It's too bad that it's not available; it could have helped us get to this swamp that everyone keeps talking about. I wonder how far away this is?" Moria spoke about the possibility of teleportation. Before Ama- chiak had an opportunity to speak, Eski broke it with "Teleportation! Is that like gating? If you have Faerie circles in this plane, I might be able to ---" Eski's ramblings were cut short by a piercing squeal that filled the Inn. Most patrons clapped their hands to their ears, swivelling un- friendly eyes to the source of the ruckus: a crystal figurine. A robed figure at the table upon which it sat struggled unsuccessfully to muffle the sound within the folds of its voluminous robe. Thankfully, the squeal soon stopped. The collective look of relief was replaced with concern, however, when a booming voice rang forth from the figurine, warning of storm and wind, lightning and hail. Eski turned his head back to the group. "Quick! Where is the swamp? If that Magic Mouth spoke true, then the entire swampland could be flooded, making our quest that much more difficult." Amachiak looked worried, as Ixnaphior and Moria glanced at each other, agreement and worry plain in their eyes. "If this storm strikes soon, and lasts for long, we could be trapped in this city for some time. Who knows what havoc may be caused in its wake?" Eski continued. "I may be able to get us out of its path in the meantime. Is everyone well-supplied for this quest? Rope, food, water, fire-making tools, the general adventuring kit?" Before anyone had a chance to answer: "All right, where is the nearest Faerie circle? With luck, I could get us to the swamp in a wink! Oh wait, you may not know of Faerie circles -- is there anyplace in this city fairly small, fairly round, and fairly unusual in nature?" [ADMIN: could the folks in the TW thread please e-mail me at archmage@vnet.ibm.com? I'd like to discuss where this is going; I've seen no activity in one or two weeks. If I could get your e-mail addresses, I'd feel better. I'd also like to get your approval for any use of your characters I may make.] MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: bshsiung@quip.eecs.umich.edu (Bernard Hsiung) Subject: [MG] Dariel takes the bait Message-ID: <1993Apr2.185306.7849@zip.eecs.umich.edu> Date: Fri, 2 Apr 1993 18:53:06 GMT [ADMIN: Well, yes, Dariel's perceptions are a wee bit unusual...] The air is crisp and the sun bright as the doors of the Guild slide shut behind me. A piece of sky detaches itself and comes to me, landing on my outstretched hand as I greet myself with fluttering wings. I open myself to then and forever, moving the bird to my shoulder as the images flow through me. There is making and unmaking and change not so vast: sacrifice and binding and transference, distortion and release and blending. Life and death ebb and flow, as always. The echo of a calling scratches at the corner of my perceptions and I let my feet follow as I look and see the alonegod, built all crookedly, facing down the man-cat 'Raelf het ae 25 who is holding five keys. The keys are jangled and a foresaying is torn and the crooked mask vanishes down newly-learned pathways, leaving me mulling over the words as my focus floats back to now and here. My wings are fluttering, wanting to come out, but this is not the place. The bird, my agent, stretches and leaves me. In time, I walk past Tushar, who holds a sword and wears a turban. He looks straight at me but does not see me. The vibrations in the air that I know are the sound of my name strike me in time with the calling. I come to a courtyard, where there is a cart drawn by figments of horses, and here are Hork and Stimsen, who I see have become hollow men, shadow men, taller and then wider and shallower than men should be and shifting fitfully in the light. They are saying my name. And here is Amaan, also saying my name, and his thoughts are murky and greenish-brown like damp grass in the mud. The cart is bounded by a sifting of singularity and there is a [I am standing like Agni at the center of burning, and it covers me and the cart and the figments and the men. A message is given to me. The shadows of men are no longer saying my name but their god, their murdergod, is talking, talking to me.] package nestled within. They are linked, the burning and the package and the message. I pass through the sifter and my vision is real. The calling is ended, the cart and the men gone in an eyeblink. I have time to lay my hand upon the package and impress the remains of its message for later when the murdergod comes and stands behind me in the heart of the burning. Its hand tipped with jagged razors rises up and then falls upon my back. I catch it as I turn and break its wrist, then break the silence of the burning. <> Its voice is a knife in the dark, a wire jerked tightly around a throat, and it raises its other hand which ends in fingers spraying poison and acid. I take it and turn it back on itself and ask it again, It strives against my grip and says, <> <> I withdraw my support and it smoulders, then flames, the burning consuming its outermost layers. <> And then my wings do unfold to sweep circles in the air, scooping up the essence of burning and stripping away the power of the god. The only sound after their passage is the clattering of the crystal lattice at the god's core falling to the floor. I pick it up and look at it. It is a thing of twisted beauty, finely translucent lines curled upon one another and bound. I hold it by a corner and pass it through the air. A film of power coats its ragged edges, like the reverse of a child making soap bubbles. I wipe it off, drop it, and grind it into less-than-dust under my heel. Certainly the work of a Reaverschild. Amaan lies at my feet, peacefully resting, shielded from the burning by the one who left the calling. But he concerns me no longer. I turn my attention to unimpressing the message I was given and, again, images wash over me: a puzzlebox with five sides each the same size and shape, and on one side there is the Beacon, where the fires of my creation still dance. It opens and the name "Shining Mirror" is written there in runes of ice. Reflected in the letters I see myself, lighting the lamp on the top of a lighthouse, and I am looking down on it and measuring its age, age on ages past when its light was first cast, and the light of the lamp burning illuminates the dancing crystalline mirrorshape. The reflections of myself offer an exchange of information, assistance, warning, invitation. I look again and see myself, the mirror behind myself, then the mirror alone, and I know whom I must see. Unbidden, the lighthouse- knowledge of my agent-bird converges with the lighthouse-image, and I know where I must go. My wings tense, then fold, and I am gone. -- Comments, compliments, and complaints can be conveyed to: Bernie Hsiung (bshsiung@eecs.umich.edu) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu (christopher motherway) Subject: [Raoh] The Battle Part 1: Arrival at Kassandra Message-ID: Date: Fri, 2 Apr 1993 18:16:17 GMT (To those in this string, just follow along) "There it is, gentlemen...and lady," said Ray. "The city of Kassandra!" The team was on a hill at the very edge of the forest. Ahead of them, several miles off, was the city, its massive Dungeon Tower reaching many feet above the ground. The city itself was all that big. It was just barely smaller than Generica. A few fires were still burning in the town, breaking the otherwise tranquil mood. "Hey," said Rustan, suddenly, "do you here that?" Everyone listened carefully. They DID hear something, kind of like a deep, two-part groan, arising from the city. Also, very faintly, the sound of a march reached their ears. Ray recognized it immediately. "Looks like Raoh is having another parade." he said. "A parade?!?" stated Tarkyn. "Whatever for?" Ray replied, "Every now and then, Raoh and his minions march down the streets of Kassandra, and all the people living must stand and watch, chanting 'KING RAOH' at the top of their lungs. All who don't attend are destroyed." Garol then said, "I wonder if we could get a look at those 'minions' of his. Y'know, find out what we're up against." Almost immediately, all eyes looked toward Blaze. Blaze said, "I have a 'Second Sight' spell, but _I_ was hoping to penetrate the Tower to see where Ray's kin are. Unfortunately, I cannot." A pause. Then Blaze's eyes opened, as if hearing a message that no one else could. She turned to Pantora, who was smiling. "Could you do that?" asked Blaze. Pantora nodded. Blaze then said aloud, "Pantora says he can use his telepathic powers to project my spell to penetrate the Tower and even to pinpoint where Ailee and Falco are!" Sir Lance simply nodded in agreement. Blaze concentrated, as did Pantora. Blaze spoke a few words and, suddenly, the air in front of the group opened up and showed the scene inside Kassandra. *Indeed, the people were lined up as far as the eye could see. And every man, woman and child were screaming, in unison, "KING RAOH!" One of the bystanders was screaming out of sequence. One of the underlings came up to him and screamed, "You're SUPPOSED to say it with everyone ELS, WORM!", and then bash him with his spiked club. Raoh was on his horse, which was marching proudly down the lane. Along side him, to his right, was Uygar, massive as ever, marching beside him. Behind them were his minions, who looked like ninja with red eye-masks.* Brycur said, "My God! There must by hundreds of them!!" "Don't worry about them," Ray replied, "They're as tough as oxen, but they're twice as smart. Getting through _them_ is no problem. It's those _underlings_ that'll give you trouble." *The image floated to the Dungeon Tower. Up six floors, directly in front, the window showed a young human woman, about 20 years of age, crying. Beside was a man, also in his twenties, stong build but a broken spirit.* "THAT'S THEM!" screamed Ray. "That's Ailee and Falco!!" The image faded and Blaze snapped back into consciousness, panting like she had run to Kassandra and back. Sir Lance asked if she was all right. She nodded, affirmatively. Tarkyn drew his sword and said, "I've seen enough! Let's get him!!" Sir Lance said, "Hold! I just thought of something. If we attacked, what would stop Raoh from using those prisoners to make sure we retreat? He might threaten to knock down the Tower itself if we proceeded to fight him." Firecat said, "Good point, Sir Lance. What do you suggest?" "We rest now. At midnight, Garol and Firecat will go into town and free the prisoners." "Why me?" "No offense, my friend, but you are the only one small enough to get past the gaurds. As for Garol, he IS a ninja, is he not? He will get you both in. The only thing I want you to remeber is this: whether or not you free the prisoners and get them to safety in one piece, at sunrise we attack. Perhaps we will catch them by surprise. If you are succesful, join us (I am CERTAIN you can find us!). If not, I will send someone to find you. Agreed?" No one said a word in objection. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = At midnight, after a long rest, Garol and Firecat got prepared to go. Shadow whined when Firecat said that the wolf would have to be left behind. Before they left, Blaze gave Garol the amulet she had around her neck, the one she bought in Generica. Blaze said, "I place a 'Flare' spell on the amulet. If you run into trouble, grasp it by its edges and squeeze it. A bright light will shoot above you. The team will attack immediately if the flare is seen. Please,...only use it in an emergency." Garol tucked the amulet underneath his shirt and thanked the sorceress. Then he and Firecat silently made there way to the city. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Time passed. Ray thought he spotted Garol and Firecat climbing the walls of the Tower and gaining entry. The team waited. Dawn. Light was showing to the team's left, but the sun had yet to rise. Brycur suddenly screamed, "FLAAAAAAAARE!" Everyone looked toward Kassandra. The flare was shining brightly near the rear of the city. Sounds of scuffles rose from the city. Sir Lance quickly commanded, "Everybody get your weapons and mount up! Ray, take my steed and lead the way; we need you to 'cut' a way through into the city. I will ride with Blaze. Baff, stay here until we can get to you! And, gentlemen, if you believe in a god, now is the time to pray to him!" He mounted Stardust and pulled Blaze up to sit behind him. He drew his sword and screamed, "LET'S GO!!!!!!" The team quickly mounted and followed Ray's lead. Shadow followed behind. "This is it!" Lance thought to himself. "Raoh the Conqueror, your time has come!!!!" MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kmwilcox@iastate.edu (Kevin M Wilcox) Subject: [Mr B][Storm] Mister Boddy Comes Back Message-ID: Keywords: storm mister boddy Date: Fri, 2 Apr 1993 19:01:33 GMT "The ship is ready. Dana's there checking on things," Evan told Mister Boddy. He looked at the display, and then at the shimmering portal. "Go join him. I'll be there as soon as Heidi arrives," Boddy answered. "I just hope we don't have to make another perfume run for a while. I want to finish my project." Evan nodded and stepped into the portal. Boddy looked at the clock and whistled impatiently. He heard a door close out in the hallway and sighed happily. "You'd better look at this!" Evan yelled, poking his head out of the portal. Boddy ran through and found himself in shin-deep water. The ship rocked, and he fell to one knee. A board above him broke, and he was drenched completely. "There's a huge storm out there!" Dana yelled. "We'd better get back immediately. The ship's begun to fall apart!" Boddy agreed. He stuck his head through the portal to tell Heidi to stay, but she wasn't there yet. He then tried to help the others secure things on the tossing ship, but there wasn't much he could do on that side. He started locking down a computer console when there was an extremely violent shake and the machine exploded, knocking him into the fall wall. The portal grew bright, then closed. "We were hit by lightning!" Dana yelled from the deck above. "The ship's toast! Let's head back!" He stumbled down the steps and crashed through the floorboards. "We can't! The portal closed when the controls blew!" Evan told him. He turned to Boddy. "He was at it when it went." "I'm fine. I'm just not sure I can get up," the prone man responded. "Let's get out of here." The other two lifted him to his feet and he limped ahead toward the stairs, falling in the hole Dana had made. "Are you ok?" Dana yelled down the hole. Boddy was treading water in the pool that filled the lower hull. "Yes! There's a huge tear in the port side down here! Use the portside lifeboat and pick me up!" he yelled back. Just then, the floor collapsed under Dana and Evan, and they fell into the sea as well. The three managed to swim out into the rolling ocean, and they floated within a few feet of the others and watched the boat sink in front of them. As it came close, Dana and Evan detached the port lifeboat, and everybody struggled into it. "I think Generica's that way," Boddy hypothesized, pointing into the storm. "Are you sure we should try it?" Dana asked, bailing as quickly as he could. "I have to agree with him," Evan countered. "If we can get within sight of Generica, we stand a much greater chance o f rescue." Dana conceded and took the first shift rowing as the other two bailed. "How are we going to get home?" he asked after a while. "Hopefully, Heidi knows what happened," Evan moaned. "She knows how to read the display, but by herself, there's not much she can do. I just hope that she can find my brother. He's about the only one who knows my designs," Boddy answered between yawns. Before long, fatigue claimed him and he fell fast asleep. -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* "What did I do?" the young man in the disheveled gray shirt and pants gasped. Standing in the doorway of the souvenir kiosk, the large, bearded man in the bright blue suit and blue bowler boomed, "I warned you not to look at Bambi when she's dressing!" The chuckling head and bare shoulders of a young woman poked around the side of the large man. "She was dressing in the control room! There was nothing I could do," the other man blurted. "I don't want to hear excuses! Goodbye, William Boddy!" the big man yelled. With that, he closed the door, and the kiosk faded from view. William brushed himself off and looked around him. He was in a protected area, within view of a town. He picked up a piece of litter near him and tried to read it. The only words he could understand were "Haven's Rest." *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* / K. M. Wilcox/ \Mister Boddy \ *-*-*-*-*-*-*-* "So, Professor Jenkins!... My old nemesis!... *-*-*-*-*-*-*-* \ We meet again, but this time the advantage is mine! Ha! Ha! Ha!" / *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* MagicHutchHeader From: vaughan8670@iscsvax.uni.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [SQ]From the past...dreams it may not be, but reality Message-ID: <1993Apr2.170300.12012@iscsvax.uni.edu> Date: 2 Apr 93 17:03:00 -0600 ADMIN:Shade asked me to forward this.... [SQ] As soon as Meelaun has left him Shade slips off his weapons and his shirt and carefully goes over his weapons... "Hm...they seem untouched...I wonder about this place...Meranung, the City beneath the waves..." A small frown crosse his face, then he smiles a little and drops the rest of his clothing and move into the next room for his bath. Sitting in the hot bath the Dark One starts to think about the next phase of these happenings. "Shanni is beautiful, I wonder how come they have purple eyes...? Meelaun is a Duke...hm, that implies some kind of feudal society.. I wonder...and this wizard Shuulaine seems to have his own ideas." The Dark One gets up and goes through the little livingroom to the bedroom....his eyebrows go up in surprise... "Clothing, how thoughtful....and my old stuff all gone, except for the weapons..." Shade finds the set of clothing to be loose and cool, all in blue and silver, it fits nicely. Looking at himself in a mirror he sees a tall, slim person with halflong dark hair and green eyes looking back at him. "Feels nice...clean and fresh, lets find out what they eat in this place..." He leaves his rooms through a small door leading out into the garden with the small fountain. As he crosses the lawn he looks up, to his surprise he sees the blue sky with the sun up and a few clouds softly floating... "By the Old Ones, what...how...got to be magic...but the power to create and maintain something like this...amazing..." -Are you looking out for birds, a soft voice interrupts the Dark Ones thoughts. -No, I just...., looking back down Shade sees Shanni standing a few yards away watching him, and feeling a little stupid he continues, -I was just thinking about the power it would take to create something like this sky. -I guess so, she answers with a small frown, but I do not know about those things. She smiles at the Dark One. -Well my father is waiting for you in the dining room, if you would care to join us for a meal. -Oh, yes. Of course, Shade makes a small bow and follows her inside. --- Having finished the meal and after some pleasant smalltalk Meelaun leans back in his seat and looks at Shade... -I guess you have a number of questions now ? -Hm, the Dark One answers. -Well, he continues, how did this City under the Waves ever come into beeing...? -A long time ago, Meelaun begins, the world above the Waves looked a lot different. In these days there where mighty Wizards and Priests who ruled the lands, but eventually they became possessed and cor- rupted by the powers they wielded...what then came is sometimes known as the Mage Wars, the Cataclysm, the Great Disaster etc...Here in Meranung we were ruled by the Council of Mages, they decided that they wanted no part in this War. And to protect Meranung from the forces unleashed over the world they raised the Great Barrier...., Meelaun stopped and took a small zip of wine then he continued..., The Great Barrier was a magical shield that surrounded Meranung on all sides like a sphere, even underground. So the Wars came and went, but Meranung became very selfsufficient. As the centuries went by we began to think that things had always been like this and would never change....hm...well... Eventually the Wars escalated to the extent that the world started to change its shape, and finally during a fierce battle fought on the plains outside the city a coven of wizards combined their efforts to destroy the enemy..., here Meelauns purple eyes grow hard,...the result was a giant explosion that destroyed everything for many miles in all directions and created a huge crater in the plain. All that was left was Meranung in the bottom of the huge crater. After the explosion heavy rains started and went on for weeks, and when it was all over the city was buried deep below the surface..... Silence descends in the room, the Dark One feels like he is caught in a web of fate...only a slight breeze coming in through the high windows break the calm.... -But what about today.., the Dark One softly asks. -Today we are ruled by the King and Queen, Meelaun answers, but there are still powerful mages around. -Like Shuulaine..., Shade smiles a little. -Yes...like him..., Meelaun answers. -So where may I go and what may I do while I am your guest ? -You may come and go as you please from this place, you may not enter the Royal Palace nor may you venture close to any of our exits. If you do and get caught you may be killed on sight by the guards.... -Is it possible to get some kind of guide to show me around..., Shade realizes that he is blushing a little as he says this. Meelaun laughs a little, -Well...if you don't mind I think Shanni would be happy to show you... he says with a straight face, but his eyes twinkle with amusement. -Well, thank you Your Grace...., Shade answers with a small smile, I would be honoured by your trust....and the company. -So it is settled then, Meelaun says as he rises to leave, see you two later. As he leaves the room the Dark One looks over at Shanni who looks slightly annoyed... -Any problem..., he carefully asks. -No, not really, I just wish that he asked me instead of taking me for granted..., then she smiles, come on lets go... When they leave the tall white building the Dark One feels better than he has in a long time.... -- HP : Morgan "the Dreamer" Broman mabr@sweden.hp.com SCA : Morgan deGrey, Master of the Freehold Ravens Crag APD-I: Shade ------------------------------------------------------------------------- What is life, but a sequence of fragments of time put together in a random fashion, to create eternity... [R] Shade ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Nothing stated here is an official statement by the Hewlett-Packard Corp. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan) Subject: ADMIN: Atlas of the Known Lands needs a new keeper! Message-ID: <1993Apr3.025443.21426@midway.uchicago.edu> Date: Sat, 3 Apr 1993 02:54:43 GMT The Atlas of the Known Lands requires a new keeper! I, Dennis Brennan, the current keeper of the Atlas, have assumed a number of responsibilities unrelated to the network which curtail the amount of time I am able to spend reading and working with Usenet. As many of you have surely noticed, the Atlas has not been appearing in anything remotely resembling a timely and frequent manner. I apologize for my dereliction of duty and hereby will willfully surrender it to anyone who wants the job. Proposing Nexic geographers should have: -Dependable, year round Usenet and e-mail access, -expertise in manipulating large text files, -an interest in Nexus, Generica and alt.pub.dragons-inn I will mail the current copy of the Atlas and the map to whomever requests the position. Thank you -- Dennis Brennan djb6@midway.uchicago.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac169@Freenet.carleton.ca (Darryl Farr) Subject: [JOI] The pipers two Message-ID: <1993Apr3.033948.19879@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Sat, 3 Apr 1993 03:39:48 GMT "Hah! Doubles again! You cheat as poorly as ever, Elanon," laughed Ildamar, as Elanon groaned loudly. The two men had been dicing for some time, and Ildamar was steadily raking in the coins, despite Elanon's somewhat surreptitious attempts to reverse the flow. "You can't _really_ be that lucky! I'm bound to win eventually," retorted Elanon. "Just you wait!" Suddenly, both men fell silent as the lilting strains of a sea chanty floated through the open door. "It sounds like someone is entertaining the crew up there. Do you still have those old pipes you used to have welded to your face?" "Never go anywhere without 'em," replied Ildamar, as he reached into his nearby pack. He blew an experimental trill, and grinned, "Perhaps they wouldn't mind a little accompaniment." Ildamar stood and left the room, Elanon closely following. He climbed the stairs leading up to the deck, and saw Quaeros standing by the prow of the vessel, holding a rune-covered flute in his hands. He was explaining the history of the remarkable instrument, and Ildamar listend closely. Shortly after leaving the port of Generica, Ildamar had returned to his natural form, and stood almost six and a half feet tall, with midnight blue skin, and straight black hair. When Quaeros finished his tale, Ildamar said, "I heard your playing, and I was wondering if you might be interested in playing a duet...see what we come up with." Quaeros smiled and said "I think I could live with that. Why don't you start and I'll just jump in." Ildamar promptly took a deep breath and started playing a tune, similar to tunes played on almost every ship in the world and beyond. It was light and lively, and had a springing quantity. One could almost hear the waves crashing against the shore, and the gulls crying within the song. Then Quaeros began. He played a counterpoint, and it was like a mermaid, singing on the rocks. The two flutes dove and swam around each other, their melodies interweaving seamlessly. They played for several minutes, and several of the crew members on deck paused in their work to listen, their duties temporarily forgotten. The companions listened, breathless, asea embodies in the music. Even the birds wheeling around the ship, and the waves themselves seemed to be listening. Eventually they stopped, building to a final crescendo as the waves came rushing back to shore. There was a moment of silence, and then the companions and the crew burst forth in spontaneous applause. Quaeros and Ildamar looked at each other, grinned, and bowed deeply, their arms sweeping out to their sides in synchronism. "Yeah," said Ildamar, "I could live with that." -- Darryl Farr An old grey horse stood on the wall, The Grey Man As daft as he was high. He had no fear of falling down, ac169@freenet.carleton.ca He thought he was a fly. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: breaking points part 1 Message-ID: Date: Sat, 3 Apr 1993 08:39:16 GMT Arienna waited for him to get up and stagger out of the bedroom. He was no drunker than usual, but this time he was meaner than usual, and he had gone after the kids. Now or never. She furtively tossed a few things into a rucksack, hidden under the edge of the bed: a change of clothing for her, a mirror, a toothbrush. No coins, he'd accuse her of stealing them and beat her again. Only what she had of her own when she came into his house. She heard him heaving into the chamberpot, and felt a wash of pity - he was always so helpless and gentle after he woke up, and he sounded really sick, but then some part of her remembered that he'd promised before, and before that, a litany of lies and betrayal going back four years. The tears started, again, but they dried quickly, as usual. He came back in, saw her curled under the covers, fell unconscious on his side of the bed. He started snoring. Good. Out of it. He wouldn't be awake for hours. She carefully sat up. He didn't wake. She pulled the satchel out from under the bed and walked, quiet, don't let the floor creak. A coughing snore ended suddenly and she froze in place. "Mmnn?" "Go to sleep, I'm just using the chamberpot." "Mn." The snores resumed. She pulled close the curtain between their room and the children's room, and opened the window so the moonlight could come in. Leoni was asleep, his thumbs both in his mouth. Her heart wrenched a bit when she saw the purple mottling of the bruise on his cheek, freshly applied when HE unexpectedly returned to find them eating without him. Dahlina was not asleep. Her eyes were large and red, and she whimpered a bit, but she helped gather her clothes, and her brothers, into the rucksack, and she carried the satchel as her mother balanced Leoni's two-year-old body on one hip and the rucksack on the other. They made it outside without HIM waking up. The woman from the square was waiting for them. Arienna wondered for a moment how she had known that this would really be the night. Maybe she'd come by the day before, or the day before that, and left when it was clear they weren't coming out. She looked at the house, one last time. It was a pretty house, she'd been happy there, at first, before things went sour. Sure, it was close to the Low Town, but they'd been able to afford it while he was working in the Guard, and she was in the Spinner's Guild. But then Dahlina had come, and she wasn't able to work, and things got harder, and he started hanging out with his old friends, and coming in late. She stopped the rush of memory - no time. "here. sit up here, the young one will ride better next to me." The woman's voice was a gentle murmur, barely reaching her ears. Arienna handed up the satchel and rucksack, and then helped the kids into the cart, finally getting in herself, wincing at the stretch as it pulled on the bruises on her legs. The cart moved on quietly. The donkeys pulling it were unusually placid, and their hooves were muffled. Arienna wondered at that - was it really so dangerous what they were doing? Probably. She recalled how he'd been the day she tried to return to her mother's house, five months pregnant with Leoni. She knew then that he would have killed her for leaving him. They moved away from the Merchant's Hill district along the road skirting the Low Town. Finally, they came to a stop, in front of a brick-fronted building on the edge of respectability, near the Fishermens' Bazaar. This wasn't really a good neighborhood. The woman took a bell from around her neck, and rang it - there wasn't a sound, but in moments, four large women in leather armor came out of the front door of the building, assuming guard positions; down the street behind them, Arienna heard an explosive curse and the slap of feet running back into the distance. She looked questioningly at the woman. "they're ramesh slavers, they like to go after women who look helpless after dark. we discourage them." The woman dismounted, and helped as Dahlina crawled down from the back of the cart. One of the guards escorted the girl and her still-drowsy baby brother into the building, and Arienna followed them in. It was quiet inside, but the yellow light of four candles in a sconce provided light for the small foyer. A woman in full robes, even to the full head covering, sat knitting by the door, and she nodded to the guards, who waited for the cart to move back out into the city before they closed the door and barred it. "Welcome to the West Side Hostel," the woman nodded her head, and put her knitting aside. "I'm acolyte Res-Verita, I keep this place going. You will be given a room in the upstairs back. I'm afraid we don't have room for you to have a separate room for the children, but you will have a kitchen and share a common room, and we have schooling for the children who are old enough. Here, Greta, please take these to room 24. Thanks." The woman smiled, lighting her homely face like a beacon. "I bet you kids are hungry, being sent to bed without supper like that. Would you like some cocoa and a sandwich?" She led them into a large kitchen and sat the children at a table. A half-a-peanut butter sandwich with jelly was on one plate, and a tuna salad on another. The kids sat, then began to eat hungrily. The acolyte moved with practiced, minimal motions, preparing hot cocoa from water that was already heated on the wood-stove. Arienna felt a knot forming at the back of her throat. "Here, you're hungry too, but before we start, let's have a look at you and see if we can't clean you up a bit." A nice, hot, wet cloth was produced, and the acolyte gently cleaned the blood and thrown food off of Arienna's forehead, tsk-ing at the injury. "Do you have a god or goddess you take to?" Arienna shrugged, it had been a long time since she thought the gods would do anything for her. "Very well. I entreat the gods of healing and freedom, the protectors of women and children, I call on the powers of light and good to grant me the healing touch." She stroked a finger, tingling-cold, across the cuts on Arienna's face, gently opening her mouth and touching the cracked and loosened teeth, leaving behind a sensation like waking up without a hangover, like spring thaw. She was very gentle, but thorough, and no part of Arienna which had been injured was spared the healing. "That will take care of the outer you. We will deal with the inner you at your own speed. Bodies heal easily, spirits are harder." Arienna accepted a cup of cocoa, realizing that she was hungry, and had been for days now. As she sat, stunned, wondering, the acolyte gently went over both children, wiping away bruises and injuries that Arienna had not even suspected. "Come. It's late, you need sleep. Tomorrow we can discuss what you can be doing, to begin your life again. See," she pointed. Both children were asleep, empty cocoa cups clutched tight. ---- The third morning was harder. She had met a few of the residents, but most of the women who paid for the use of the hostel were in and out, not staying around much, and the guards were guards. Dahlina was in the classroom, and Leoni was playing with the stuffed dragon toy they'd given him. He had declared it to be Gunk the Dragon, and wasn't ever parted from it, even when bathing. Well, it couldn't be hurting him - his bad dreams had stopped, he said that Gunk would chase them away. She had smiled at the very serious two-year-old face when he told her that secret, certain that the real cause was that Daddy wasn't hurting her here, so he wasn't going to sleep afraid. She pulled the child-gate across the door and went out into the hall. She wondered how HE was doing. They said he had gone to her mother's place and her mother had set the dogs on him. The guards had told her about his visit yesterday, and she was glad then that she hadn't seen him, but now she kind of missed him. Then she remembered the look on Leoni's face as his father's boot struck it. He would have been so sorry, the next day, but she knew that he could have killed the boy kicking him that way. No, it was better - but she was so lonely. Before she could repent, again, of coming there, she heard footsteps. "Good morning, res-Verita." She smiled as the acolyte mounted the back stairs into the hall. There were four women who were acolytes here, and res-Verita was the oldest. Then there was the Abbess, Sister El'n, but Arienna hadn't spoken much with her - she was a sour acting woman, with a very stern attitude. She taught one of the classes. "Arienna. We were wondering, have you considered what way you will be contributing to our community?" "Yes, maam. I will be spelling Rheann at the young-children's playroom on alternate days, so she can take her turn elsewhere. And I'd like to do more." "Good. Come with me. We need another person with good sewing skills. Rheann is across the way, she'll look after Leoni." She tapped on a door, and a short, roundish, redhaired woman of maybe eighteen, going on thirty, opened. "I need to show Arienna the sewing room, could you please take Leoni for a while?" "Sure." Arienna was led to a room downstairs, a sort of workroom-commons. It had three large plank tables, one covered in bolts and shreds of cloth and spools of thread and strange puffy white unspun cotton; one was laid out with scissors and paper patterns, the third was occupied by four other women, two older that her, the other two not much older than children, in her eyes. "This is our new resident in the back, some of you may have seen her. Arienna, please meet Dirina, Leanthe, Toriquel, and Vendra." The women nodded in their turns. Vendra was wearing the same robes and head coverings that acolyte res-Verita wore, but the other three were wearing just clean, common clothing very like her own. They were in the middle of assembling the strange stuffed toy dragons like the one that Leoni had been given. "Here, make a place to sie down and we'll show you how we do them." Vendra pointed her to an empty bit of tabletop. "Get a sewing kit from the supplies table, and pick out one of the cut-out patterns in a color you like. Then come over here and we'll show you how they go together." Arienna found a kit, next to a plum-purple colored stack of plushy fabric. She heard the others working, a quiet murmur as they talked to the toys they were putting together. She shrugged, and took the purple material, some matching thread, and her kit to the table. "This is awfully nice material for making toys out of." She looked hesitantly at Vendra, who nodded. "Yes, we got a very good deal on thirty bolts of velveteen from the weaver magicker, their mill made more than the contract called for, and we were willing to take the strange end pieces. We make do but we don't cut corners on any of the important things." Arienna nodded, comprehension growing. That explained the strange mix of finery and what could only be called "tired" furnishings and household equipment. Nothing was worn out or useless, but some pretty old antiques were still finding use here. Vendra continued speaking. "Now, there's a secret to these toys. As you put them together, you tell them what they're going to be like, tell them how brave they are and how smart and true, and how they're going to protect their children and keep them safe from evil dreams. When they get their hearts, and their eyes, and their teeth and claws and wings, then they'll be ready." The woman returned to her sewing, murmuring to her red-gold toy as she sewed the arm-seam: "this is going to be a very strong arm, so you can hold your child close, and protect it from harm." Arienna stared disbelieving. "Uhm, I don't know if I can do that." "Oh, but it's not hard. Pretend you're giving instructions to a sitter," Vendra smiled. "Here, you start with the head first, always, so it can hear you talking. Then go on to do the arms and paws, then go on to the tail, and then the hind legs, and then finish with the body, where it fastens around the legs. Oh, you've not got the heartstone. See, that purple rock you left at the table, that's the heartstone, and it has to be with the dragon as you put him together." Leanthe reached back and handed it to Vendra, who set it firmly before Arienna. "All right. This is kind of silly, though, talking to toys." "Dear girl. These aren't just toys. They're companions, confidantes, playmates, and friends. Our children here have all been hurt by the world in some way or another, and they need a friend they can hold on to who won't hurt them and who won't desert them. You look like you could use that kind of a friend yourself." "Well, I know I won't find it in a toy." "No, I imagine not, you've grown too adult to be helped that way. Some day your innocence might return to you, though, but for now, just trust me, for children, this works." "But it's not real." "Oh, but these ones ARE real. That's why they have hearts, and that's why they need to be told, while you make them, what they should be like." "Well, if you want me to do it, I will. But I still feel silly." "We should all do silly things from time to time, it makes us less boring." Arieanna sat down, and started sewing the head together, plush on the inside so it could be turned around later and the seam would be clean. She used small stitches, tight. "Dragon. They tell me you'll be a protector for a child. I hope that's true. If I could, I'd make you the kind of a real dragon who devours bad people, but not the good ones. One who doesn't scare children, doesn't steal cows or sheep, doesn't steal treasures." She finished the head, and poked it inside-out with her little finger. It needed nostrils, so she turned it around and made a small ring-gather with her needle, from behind, two places. Changing to a gold thread, she sewed in eyes, using a satin-stitch embroidery. "I think with gold eyes like this you could always see, even in the dark, so you could always know to protect your child." She still felt silly. The oval eyes didn't have pupils in them, and she wasn't sure about that, but the others were somewhat the same. "You're doing fine, dear. Just keep going." "Allright. Ears, for listening. Not for talking though. Good dragons keep secrets instead of treasure." She finished the neck. "Nice strong neck, so you can breathe lots of fire on the bad guys." She started on the arms and legs, stitching hints of paws and claws. "Good dragons only have sharp claws to fight with bad monsters, so be very careful with your child. And you have strong arms and legs so you can pick them up and carry them when they get tired." She finished the four tubes, then poked them inside-out with a long chopstick. "Good stitchery, nice seams," Vendra observed. "Should we be stuffing them now?" "Oh no, not yet. That comes later." "All right." She frowned. The dragon that Leoni had seemed to be jointed somehow, but this wasn't a jointed design. "Don't worry, dear, it'll work fine." "I thought they were jointed." Vendra merely smiled. "OK, now I do the tail. Hello, tail. You need to be a very long graceful tail so my dragon will be the best dancer of all. And you need to be very flexible and strong so you can reach under doors and into holes to fetch things the house-goblins have stolen." Vendra looked across the table at her, but she didn't notice. She was getting closer to the middle of the body, when she stopped. "Something else goes here, right?" She looked at Leanthe. "Yes, you need to make a small pouch for the heart stone to live in, and sew it to the body here." "Don't I attach the legs and arms first?" "Doesn't really matter, but yes, you can. You won't have to do as many blind-stitches that way." Arienne carefully set the arms and legs in. "You're a strong dragon, and your limbs don't break or come loose." She looked up again. "Where are the wings?" "Oh, don't worry. They get added later." "Alright, but it must be easier to do it now." "There's reasons, dear. Just fasten the arms so there's room for the wing joint, it'll look more realistic that way." "OK. I see, yes, mine were almost too close together." "That's why we cut the join-holes before we sew them." She sewed a small pouch from the scraps, and as Leanthe directed her, used more of the gold thread to connect it to the dragon's body, and to the ends of each toe and the tip of the tail and the nose and both eyes. "Won't this get in the way when we stuff them?" "Not to worry. The heart has to be connected. Well, you're almost done, love, all that's left is to turn the body inside-for-out and sew up the last hole." "Really? What about the wings and the stuffing?" "We'll see." Arienna frowned, but began turning things inside out, leaving the heart pouch inside. She gave it a final admonishment. "Dragon, you be careful with your child. Flesh-and-blood children are more fragile than a cloth-dragon." She blind-stitched the last bit, and stretched out the shape of the toy on the table. It looked kind of strange, flat and lumpy and purple, the sewn-in nose and large gold eyes giving it a comically serious expression. "You did very well, Arienna. You finished yours in about half the time it took us to do ours." She tried to shrug off the praise. "I used to sew fine work for mother when I was a girl. Anyway, I still think he looks foolish without any stuffing or wings." Vendra and the others smiled - shared secret jokes, which made Arienne blush and feel defensive. Vendra took pity at last. "The heartstones really are magical, love, and if you did a proper job of instructing your dragon, he'll be up and stuffing himself while we're out in the commons eating our own nuncheons. You know that toys aren't supposed to move around when adults are watching them." "Oh." They led her from the room. As the door closed behind them, she heard a faint fluttering noise. She wanted to look backwards, but Leanthe and Dirina each took an arm and pulled her into the kitchen. "We don't watch them eating, it's bad for the magic." ------ [admin] Amazing the stuff that can come to you when you're tired. This introduces the West Side Hostel, which is a hotel for women, run by a religious order. Women from abusive situations are taken in free. Women who wish a safe place to stay off the streets and who do not wish to stay at the regular inns, can stay for appropriate fee. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: magnus@brisk.ii.uib.no (Magnus Y Alvestad) Subject: [Mopper] Marux gets everything mopped up. Message-ID: <1993Apr3.115836.7712@alf.uib.no> Date: Sat, 3 Apr 93 11:58:36 GMT Marux Ariendel emerges from his shadow to mop up the place. In his hands, you glimpse the famed Ariendel mop as it mops with lighting speed. Two minutes, and the floor is shining. This is unique. Marux casts a glance at the guests, seemingly with a wish to mop out one and another of them, but returns mumblingly to his shadow. MagicHutchHeader From: zweldron@ruhets.rutgers.edu (Matthew Charlap) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [TW] [Storm] The Quest Continues? Message-ID: Date: 3 Apr 93 17:05:20 GMT References: clayton@austin.ibm.com (Clay Colwell) writes: >chiak had an opportunity to speak, Eski broke it with "Teleportation! >Is that like gating? If you have Faerie circles in this plane, I might >be able to ---" [warning omitted] > Eski turned his head back to the group. "Quick! Where is the >swamp? If that Magic Mouth spoke true, then the entire swampland could >be flooded, making our quest that much more difficult." Amachiak looked >worried, as Ixnaphior and Moria glanced at each other, agreement and >worry plain in their eyes. Ixnaphior turned to Eski, "The only problem is, if this storm is as bad as it seems it is going to be, travelling in the swamp would probably be much more dangerous during the storm than after it. If the storm is far enough behind us, we may be able to outdistance it. This, of course would be the best course of action. But if the storm gets here quickly, the only practical options I can see are waiting it out, or teleporting in, as Moria said she may be able to do. To answer your earlier question, teleportation is sometimes referred to where I come from as gating. I've also heared it called passing through dimensional doorways, bamfing- I have no idea where that term came from- and FTMS travel- Faster Than Magical Spell travel. However, the only references to Faerie's I have ever head of refer to small sprites and imps, and not to any physical construct- Or is a Faerie circle a circle made up of Faerie folk- in which case we still don't have one." Ixy repositioned himself to be looking at both Eski and Moria, "I don't know how good or bad your teleporting is, Moria, but if it isn't too dangerous, that seems to be our best option in any event. I know where I come from, teleporting is very dangerous unless you know EXACTLY where you are going, and have a good recollection of what the place was like. A second hand description, no matter how detailed- and I assume Amachiak could provide a very good one, is only slightly less dangerous. Moria, you have to decide how much of a risk there is, and then we will decide." > "If this storm strikes soon, and lasts for long, we could be >trapped in this city for some time. Who knows what havoc may be caused >in its wake?" Eski continued. "I may be able to get us out of its path >in the meantime. Is everyone well-supplied for this quest? Rope, food, >water, fire-making tools, the general adventuring kit?" Before anyone Ixy replied, "I don't think we should try out-running the storm, even though I mentioned it as one of the best things to do. We are almost certain to be moving slowly through the swamp, and then the storm will overtake us. The last thing we need is for a stray lightning bolt to knock a tree down onto one of us, or even worse to ignite a fire that will set the whole swamp in flames- those swamp gases are usually VERY flammable- we were only lucky that on the first outing we were not into the swamp proper yet, of course, the mages may not have used fire if we were. "As for supplies, I have all I need," Ixy pointed to his pack and patted his good 'dagger'. >had a chance to answer: "All right, where is the nearest Faerie circle? >With luck, I could get us to the swamp in a wink! Oh wait, you may not >know of Faerie circles -- is there anyplace in this city fairly small, >fairly round, and fairly unusual in nature?" "I do not know of such a place, althuogh now that I know what a Faerie circle is, I'll know what took look for. Perhaps one of the others, who has been here a while longer than I can help." Ixy looked straight at each of the other members of the group looking for someone with a hint of knowledge. -- --Matthew Charlap ------------------------------------------------------------- zweldron@ruhets.rutgers.edu zweldron@dorm.rutgers.edu What are you looking at!? You're looking at my .sig! Well I'm working on it! MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Storm][JOI] Thar' she blows! Message-ID: <1993Apr3.233449.4928@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 3 Apr 93 23:34:48 -0500 It wasn't too much longer before what was once a brisk sea breeze picked up speed and began tearing at the sails. The idle swells of the ocean were now sloshing over the sides of the great ship and threatening to wash the mariners overboard. Off to port side of the bow a massive weather system was moving quickly towards them. The clouds roiled an inky black and the temperature dropped rapidly. While it was still a good mile or so away, the storm was on the verge of attacking the ship. The sailors began calling commands to each other, shouting to be heard above the roar of the wind. They were desperately trying to furl the sails before the gale force winds ripped the masts from the deck. The members of the little company all rushed up on deck to see what was going on. Ildamar raised his midnight blue face to the sky and measured the storm. "It looks like this is going to be the blow of the century!" he called to his companions, pointing at the lightning bolts spearing down from the cloudbank. The haziness of the scene indicated that there was a driving rain accompanying the tempest. Elanon sniffed the air with a puzzled look on his face. "Does this look natural to you?" he shouted. The others shrugged, most not knowing the difference between a magic storm and a natural one. The captain of the vessel approached them with the rolling gait of trying to stay afoot while the ship pitched beneath them. He commandeered the aid of the group in rigging the ship for storm-running. Lines were strung between the fore and aft sections for guide and safety ropes. The various cargo hatches had to be securely tied down and the sails had to be removed from the masts. Already the deck planks were creaking from the force the wind used levering the masts. A man high wave crashed over the gunwale. One sailor, not so lucky as his fellows, was sucked over the side by the retreaing wave. All members of the group hastily grabbed onto the ropes strung for safety. With a loud >CRACK< a deluge of rain poured down soaking everyone to their skin. None had had either time or foresight to pull on an oiled cloak to keep the rain off. The thunder continued to peal overhead. Poor Alarond was looking a little green in the gills thanks to the change from the ship's usual placid motion. He clutched the rope line and tried not to look too miserable. The first mate staggered toward the group and called to them, "We've `ad a leak develop in the hull. Not a big one mind you, but I need all o' ye to hie yerselves to the buckets and bail! This tub `as a long way t' go `afore it clears this `ere blow!" All moved with alacrity. They formed a chain from the hull to the gunwale and did their best to stay ahead of the steady stream of saltwater from the leaky seal. If only the water could stop long enough for a tar patch to be slapped on the spot. Once the ship reached port it would probably be dry-docked and better caulked. But for now, stopgap measures would have to do. [ADMIN] If there is anyone in this group able to put a temporary barrier against the seawater so the ship can be patched, it would probably be welcomed by the mariners! Has everyone caught up on their Gilligan's Island reruns? ;) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: caz@owlnet.rice.edu (HWRNMNBSOL) Subject: [frogs] A Croak From The Past Message-ID: Date: Sun, 4 Apr 1993 04:38:50 GMT Characters Involved: FrogStar: Female mentalist/prophet Sir Jeremiah Froggington: Cavalier; lord of Froggy Bogs Taddy: His earnest young squire Pere Batroc: Renegade priest of the Inquisition "Leaper": Mysterious swamp barbarian; were-toad Flycatcher: Assassin; dark-skinned native of the Undermarshes **************************************************************************** The Frog's Inn is a mickle strange place: its walls seem to flicker and change shape as one watches; its fire is always well banked and its cellar well stocked; the flow of time gushes and trickles through the sturdy door with little regard for physics, metaphysics, or tradition. But, as all who know the ins and outs of the City of Frogs agree, the most downright peculiar thing about the Frog's Inn is its clientele. In this most disreputable of night-spots for all things batrachanalian, a bizarre admixture of guests, worldly or un-, can be found. See -- in that corner: a pop-eyed, warty specimen of a frog, dressed in direst robes necromantic, fuming over his gurgling brew and affixing his Evil Eye on all those who approach too closely? And there, on the stage: twin maidens of rare, emerald-skinned beauty, twining slender, bewebbed limbs in a captivating dance of allure and ecstasy? Ho, now! do not bump into that brutish-looking huge Visigoth of a croaker; that one is Frog-Hak of the Northern Fens, and his temper is legendary! What's that you say? That one, small, out-of-the-way table in the nine-and- one-halfth bedarkened corner, its occupants muttering and plotting to them- selves as befits only hoppers of a sinister or foreboding stripe? I know them not. But what of it? for they are clearly only a motley (not to mention mottled) collection of riff-raff, of no import to any amphibian of stature or reputation..... but come, Lord! Here is mosquito mead, and the sweet strum of the lute accompanied by froggy voices raised in song! Let us pass them by...... - * - "You FOOL!" Sir Jeremiah Froggington brings his tankard down with a clatter onto the table, making the other vessels jump. "How *could* you have LOST the map?! It was our only key to the tomb of the Leech-King!" He favors the grey-robed priest with his direst, haughtiest glare. Pere Batroc leaps to his feet, his eyeballs almost grazing the beams in his rage. "Carp-fodder! Dry-born! How dare *you* call me a fool?! Was it not *you* who blurted news of our windfall to a member of the Frog's Guild? It is YOUR fault that the map is stolen, not mine!" Froggington draws Storkbiter, its reddish glow barely visible in the torchlight. "I KNEW we couldn't trust this charlatan! He's probably delivered the map back into the hands of the High Ribbit AND sold us out to the agents of the Inquisition! They're probably on their way right now!" Batroc snarls and reaches for his Staff of the Earthworm...... "STOP!" cries FrogStar, rising from her seat. Her blinded eyes send streams of light glaring out across the table, temporarily dazzling the erstwhile combatants. They blink stupidly and turn to listen. "Fighting will get us nowhere," croons the seeress in her melodious alto. "Now is the time when Those Who Hate Must Band Together. So it is written in the _Book_of_Calaveras_." "How can you say that?!" demands Sir Froggington, his bulging eyes welling with tears. "Upstairs, faithful Taddy lies direly wounded from a poisonous sting, likely caused by THIS scoundrel" -- here he favors Batroc with a withering glance -- "and Leaper has disappeared to parts unknown! How can we trust this vermin? And how can the Quest continue without the map?" There is a rush of air, and the sound of metal biting wood. Ten frog-inches in front of Batroc's snout, an arrow quivers in one of the beams. Attached to it is a rolled sheaf of papyrus. Batroc unrolls it and gasps. "Sacre Bleu! It is the Map!" "Indeed...." comes a hiss from across the Inn. The adventurers spin..... "YOU!" shouts Froggington. "Yes....." whispers Flycatcher, his voice a sibiliant sussurrus. Batroc eyes him warily. "But -- you stole the map from us!" Flycatcher adjusts the hem of his robe, that the light from the torches may not irritate his sensitive eyes. "I decided to give it back." "Why?" demands Froggington accusingly. The ebony assassin shrugs. "My reasons are my own. All I ask is that I be allowed to accompany you on this quest." "No!" "NEVER!" "Wait!" FrogStar holds up a sinewy arm for peace. "Flycatcher MUST come along. It is so written in the stars." Froggington's tongue flickers in disgust. "Damn your stars, witch! Never shall I accompany this dark-skinned devil-frog anywhere, lest it be to the gates of the Frog Abyss itself!" The deposed lord turns on one web and stomps from the commons room. Batroc, torn, follows him. Flycatcher smirks wryly to himself and sits down at Froggington's chair, helping himself to the unfinished drinks. Meanwhile, FrogStar's sightless eyes follow the recalcitrant adventurers with a speculative gleam. - * - Outside the Inn, the night is dark and cold. On nights like this, the wise among frogs bolt the doors and fasten the shutters, for beasts roam the streets when the sun goes down. Beasts.......such as the Were-Toad. IT can smell its prey as they scurry from shadow to shadow, hoping to reach safety through stealth. But shadows do not hide smells -- oh no. IT can feel their fear as they note signs of its presence and begin to panic. Is this just jumpy nerves? campfire stories come true? Oh, no, no, no. IT feasts on their screams just as much as their flesh when, at the moment the prey realizes it is cornered, it bursts upon them, claw flailing, fangs gnashing! Oh, I must be dreaming.....a vision.....a nightmare! Oh, NO !!! No nightmare. No vision. The moon appears from behind a cloud, casting a dim, ethereal light on the mazy alleyways of Frog Town. This is where the dregs of frogs go when the dregs have cast them out. This is where Leaper awakens, as from a deep sleep. He sees the blood on the walls. He sees the blood on the ground. He sees the blood on his hands, his clothes, his mouth. He raises his voice to the winds: "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOooooooooooooooooo.............." - * - Batroc and Froggington meet outside the Inn, their heads nearly touching as they whisper quietly to one another. "I do not know what you are, priest, but I'm no puppet." "Nor I. My fate is in the hands of Amphibius (peace be to him), not in some dizzying, incomprehensible constellation." "For once we agree, traitor. I do not like to trust you, Inquisitor, but it's better than trusting that bait-chasing darkling." "The feeling is mutual, highpockets; even if I were still one of the damned theocrats, I would not betray you just to follow a drum-beat I cannot even hear." "I propose a pact. We watch each other's backs, and allow nobody to get the better of us. We trust each other." "For now, that is a bargain I will gladly accept." "For now." "Of course." They shake, and go inside. Soon, the moon sets....... **************************************************************************** ADMIN: Any and all frogs are welcome to join on in. -- HWRNMNBSOL MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: please.Princeton.EDU!hibschmn (Johann Allen Hibschman) Subject: [JOI] Storm front coming... Message-ID: <1993Apr3.222852.29217@Princeton.EDU> Date: Sat, 3 Apr 1993 22:28:52 GMT As Quaeros and Ildamar wove together the piping voices of their flutes, much to the appreciation of the small group which had gathered, a gust of wind swept across the deck and a chill spread through the audience. The slight cloud cover which had followed the ship all day had darkened, and a swath of utter blackness was visible on the western horizon. One of the crew who'd been listening to the duet offered, "Looks like there's a squall brewing. Sky looks mighty black yonder, and I bet its gonna get a bit rough up here pretty darn soon. Maybe you people'd wanna get down below deck." He clambered off the crate he'd been sitting on and walked back towards midship. Quaeros was not about to argue, so he quickly disassembled his flute and stowed it in its case, which he then returned to its spot on his belt. He stood slowly and stretched to relieve the stiffness which had crept into his legs. Glancing at the crew scrambling through the rigging, he suggested to his companions, "Perhaps it would be a wise to go below deck. I wouldn't know the first things about handling a ship in a storm, so I'd probably just be in the way if I remained up here. Perhaps we can continue our discussion below, though I don't know if I'll be in the mood for music in such cramped quarters." As it began to rain, Quaeros made his way back below deck, followed by the others. Outside, the rain began to fall harder, hammering the deck above and echoing through the cabins below. The wind sang through the rigging, and ghostly balls of blue fire flickered from the tip of the mast, as thunder boomed in the distance. As the company sat around a large table in the space below, Quaeros muttered, as much to himself as to anyone else, "This storm I do not like. Is this storm a natural storm, a weapon set against us, or a cover for another attack? Even if it is natural, it represents an opportunity for mischief for anyone set against us." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: [JOI][Storm] Master of Khaos... Message-ID: <1993Apr4.181839.5697@ultb.isc.rit.edu> Date: Sun, 4 Apr 1993 18:18:39 GMT Listening to the enchanting music waft back to where he sat, Segoi watched the weather with interest. [ Skip back to note -3 ] As the rain fell like bullets, and the winds pulled at everything that was not fastened down, Segoi stood one hand on the railing for balance. He looked into the heart of the storm with eyes that see beyond seeing. He saw the nature of it and smiled, and in the flashing to the lightning, that was a terrifying sight. Seeing the others go below with the first mate, Segoi moved to follow, then on seeing the stears man struggling with the wheel, decided to stay. The currents of the sea moved as though possessed themselves and were dragging the man around as he tried desperatly to hold the wheel straight. "Get you below, youngling, you have done your best, and yet the storm would take you," shouting over the howling of the wind, Segoi motioned to the helms man. "Nay lad, I canney do that," he replied shouting equally to be heard, "My place is here at the wheel, and I'll not be leaving her." "Very well then, I shall stay to lend my strength to her," so saying Segoi took hold of the wheel around the helms man and steadied it. Mean while down below in the hold the rest of the companions were having trouble with the horses and the whole in the belly of the ship. Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac559@Freenet.carleton.ca (Ian Clysdale) Subject: [JOI] A feeble try... Message-ID: <1993Apr4.223313.28736@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Sun, 4 Apr 1993 22:33:13 GMT Elanon looks out at the raging seas that confront the crew of his ship. He puts his hands on his head, and thinks a while in sorrow. Then he looks up, with a resolute and firm face. "I will now again take up those arts I so long ago forsake. Do not expect a brilliant casting, for my knowledge of the paths is rusty, and my link to the powers weak. Shortfellow! Search that box I keep in the corner of my room." The short servant returns a few minutes later; carrying a small red box with black runes covering it. Elanon looks up, giving a prayer of repentance to unknown Gods. Then he pulls out some equipment from the box, and looks around beggingly. "Is there any better suited to this task?" -Elanon of Ullswater- -- Ian Clysdale | "Honour thy word, Disciple of Great Cat | honour thy friends. Seer of the Stairwell | Honour thine self, ac559@freenet.carleton.ca | and honour revenge!" MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] The Laughter Message-ID: <1993Apr4.185821.4933@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 4 Apr 93 18:58:21 -0400 Darkin always loved a good storm. There is not much in this world that she doesn't enjoy but, as the rest of the group had been saying, this definitely wasn't natural. There was a subtle taste of metal in the air that is identifiable with this type of storm. She had only been through this once before, but she would never forget the last time. FLASHBACK-- It was about thirteen years ago on Darkin's twelfth birthday. A storm had hit her village and broken the sea wall. Water filled every house and many were trapped within their own homes. This was true of Darkin's family as well. There was only one way to escape, a small window near the roof line of the house. Her parents insisted that she and her brother squeeze through and try and get help, the window was too small for her parents. By the time they had returned, the house was too far underwater with no possibility of survivors. It was then that Darkin noticed to foul smell in the air, like rusted armor, and heard hideous laughter. The laughter seemed to be coming from inside her head, for her brother could not hear it. With her parents dead and only her insufferable brother as family, she decided to take off on her own. She had been a very happy child, but the laughter wouldn't leave her alone. Two years later the laughter dissappeared. It was strange, but now that it was gone it didn't take too long to return to her normal self. She no longer trusted anyone with her feelings, and only kept someones company for short periods of time... untill she met Laurenth--END People were shouting and running every where. Darkin was caught in the flow of things and found herself down below with a bucket that was thrust into her hand by a very angry sailor. There she found everyone bailing like mad. Water, it would have to be water. In the back of her mind she could here the laughter, or was it only a memory. Laurenth looked very intense. She had caught Darkin's eye because she was not bailing like the rest. Then all of a sudden the water stopped coming in, Laurenth patched the hole and then collapsed into the water.It all seemed to take a long time and yet such a short time. Darkin screamed but the other sounds covered it. She had to help her only friend but felt paralized, the laughter had taken over once again. }Z{ "Never try to boil shampoo" -David Batteiger MagicHutchHeader From: jclifford@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (jen/cliffy :)) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Patching things up... Message-ID: <1993Apr4.185845.4934@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 4 Apr 93 18:58:45 -0400 Laurenth had been listening to the impropmtu duet of Quaeros and Ildamar when they received the warning to go down below. On her way down to the room she shared with Darkin, she heard panicked voices shouting and the ominous sound of rushing water. The ship's pitching became more violent and Laurenth was flung against a crewman she encountered in the corridor. "What's going on? Is there something wrong with the ship??" she asked anxiously. "Naught that you can help with. Get t'your room, lest ye be in the way of men doin' their work. This is what comes of bringin' wimmen aboard. Nothing but bad luck, y'are." said the gnarled mariner, rushing off. Laurenth had never really been one to obey instructions to the letter, and this was not shaping up to be one of those rare occasions where she would. She decided to follow the sound of the voices. Weaving drunkenly down the corridor, she saw a very green-looking Alarond helping bail. She asked him what was wrong. "There's-a...hole-in-the...side-of-the-ship...and-we're-bailing...so.. they...can-patch-it-up." Every time he opened his mouth, he looked as if the past weeks' meals were all going to come up in one rush. Laurenth wisely chose to get out of the way and followed the line down to the hole. Horse's screams and sailor's shouts were co-mingled in the chaos below decks. A horse had been thrown against the wall, its leg cruelly twisted in its fall. The line was doing a pretty good job of getting water out of the main part of the cabin, but there was no way they could ever get ahead of the rush of water. "HEY! WENCH!! Stop gawpin' an' grab a bucket. Iffen yer too fine to do that, get yer butt outta here!!" one of the men screamed at her. "But I can be of more help! I can patch the hole!!" Laurenth screamed back at the man. "How?" "I'm a mage." "Aye, I'm not surprised, wimmen consortin' with daemons--be off with ye!!!" he screamed at Laurenth. But Laurenth had already begun. She clasped the amulet around her neck and closed her eyes. A moment passed. Two. Shouts of surprise came from the group of men nearest the hole. "It's gone--" " --closed over--" "--what happe.." Laurenth opened her eyes. Pale as a bleached sheet, she asked in a shaking voice if it worked. The answer reassured her, and then she knew no more. She collapsed into the water... take it an' run, y'all...:) jen/cliffy :) "Let the dance begin." --Genesis MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: aaron@atlantis.uucp (Aaron Humphrey) Subject: Delmara: A New Acolyte Message-ID: <1993Apr5.050037.27879@atlantis.uucp> Date: Mon, 5 Apr 1993 05:00:37 GMT ADMIN: Note the lack of thread markers. Well, this post is neither really in the MI thread or the SQ thread, although it's tangential to both... Delmara woke up with her head on Radan's shoulder, and his arm around her. She had years of experience disentangling herself from these kind of positions without waking her bedmate. What frightened her in this case was that she didn't really want to. There was something comforting in Radan's warmth, and the memory of the previous night... Definitely much too dangerous. She slid easily out of Radan's grasp, and he only mumbled in his sleep and then rolled over into the spot she had vacated. She donned her discarded clothing and slipped quietly out the door. She found herself considering breakfast in the Inn. Normally, after spending the night with someone, she would make a point of having breakfast in a different place, to reduce the risk of running into them again right away. She shook her head as if trying to clear it, and left the Inn with only a nod to Mary Littlefair, who looked at her half-curiously, half-knowingly. She made her way to the temple, which Queriche and some others had fixed up since the Demon Spiders had trashed it. There were a few haggard-looking people waiting outside the doors. When 'Raelf had given her the amulet to cure Joystix addiction, Delmara made sure the word was spread through the various Low City sources--Nirvan foremost among them. She wondered briefly how he and Jacinthe were doing--she hadn't seen them in a while. It had taken a while for them to start coming, because most of the addicts still had a few days left in their stash, and then the withdrawal symptoms set in slowly. But soon they were coming in dozens--some furtively, some brazenly, some threateningly, but they were coming. Some of the more grateful ones volunteered to serve as bodyguards, and she blessed them in Aditi's name. If nothing else, this was doing wonders for Aditi's profile in the Low City. The rest of the city neglected Her as usual, but Delmara was used to that. By now the numbers were starting to tail off. Anyone who'd held out this long had either had an extra-large stash, or was willing to go deep into withdrawal before coming to her. Or had been unable for one reason or another. The curing had become routine. She pressed the amulet to the foreheads of the addicts, murmured a prayer to Aditi--not strictly necessary, but she felt it couldn't hurt--and soon their obvious suffering seemed to ease. Not all of them were grateful, but some were, and those made all the difference. The ungrateful were there, those who rejected love offered--that was the heart of Aditi's teaching. The last case was less usual. Two children, a girl of twelve and a boy of perhaps five. The girl looked normal, scrawny like most Low City children, but lacking the emaciation of advanced withdrawal. No, it was the boy. Delmara was filled with a cold rage. Who would addict a child to Joystix? Many, she knew. Yirma would not have been above it, for instance. The boy flinched when she reached towards him with the amulet, whimpering and cowering. "She's not going to hurt you, Jad," the girl said. "It's all right." Whispering calming things into Jad's ear, she eventually calmed him down. "Is he your brother?" Delmara said as she laid the amulet on Jad's forehead. The girl nodded. "His name's Jadiman, but I call him Jad." She watched Jad as Delmara murmured the prayer. Jad's suffering eased visibly, and a smile crossed his face before he sank into unconsciousness. Delmara and the girl barely managed to catch him before he hit the ground. "We'd better take him inside," Delmara said. "He can rest there. He looks like he's had a hard time of it." "Our dad used to give him 'Stix to keep him quiet," the girl said. "He kept screaming when my dad would--would--kiss me." A sudden anger filled Delmara. "What kind of animal--" The girl looked at Delmara, her eyes clear. "He's dead. The Crew killed him." Delmara felt better at that. She wouldn't wish the Chaos Creating Crew on many people, but Jad's father would've been one. "What's your name?" she asked. "Aitreni," the girl said. "My mom named us both. My dad just called us Slut and Scum. He said it was easier to keep track that way." "Are you hungry?" asked Delmara. "I can make up some soup for you and Jad." "We don't have much money, ma'am..." "You don't need to pay me," Delmara said gently. "I'm a priestess of Aditi. That means I have to do kindnesses, and I don't expect to get repaid for them." Aitreni's eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Thank you, ma'am..." Then she started sobbing, and Delmara pulled the girl against her until the sobs quieted. "Let's go get that soup," Delmara said then. *** Jad was very weak, but he did manage to swallow some of the broth, and he was starting to look better with the drug purged from his system. Delmara didn't know how 'Raelf's amulet worked--he'd tried to explain it to her, but she hadn't grasped it--but it was a godsend. If only there were more such things in the world... "Ma'am?" Aitreni began uncertainly, then stopped. "Call me Delmara. Or Mara if you wish. You don't have to call me ma'am." "D-delmara? Can I be a priestess of Aditi too?" The question caught Delmara totally off-guard. It had been years since anyone had wanted to become an acolyte, and then they hadn't lasted too long. There were even few who came regularly to the services Delmara held sporadically. She sometimes felt tired, being the only one to hold up the cult of Aditi in the city--likely the only one on Nexus--and wished many times for one to share that with her. Elstree had been a godsend, literally, but now she was gone, or rather rarely available, having to share time with Alfvaen. "Are you sure, Aitreni?" Delmara asked. She didn't want her going into this half-cocked. Much as she wanted an acolyte, she didn't want one bound into the faith unwillingly. It had to be voluntary. Aitreni nodded. Still, Delmara thought, she was only twelve. At twelve she could be passionate about things that would have only evoked mild interest years later. Radan flashed into her mind, and she ruthlessly shoved him out. Time to think about that later. "Why?" Delmara asked. Aitreni hugged her arms to herself and thought. "'Cause you're so good and sweet and nice when you don't have to be. My mom was like that, but she died. I don't want to grow up being mean like everyone else." A mother-substitute. Well, there were worse reasons, she supposed. "Do you have any other family?" Aitreni shook her head. "My dad didn't have any, and my mom's went away to Specifica a long time ago. Before Jad was born." Well, she certainly couldn't throw them out onto the street. Which was where they had been living, she supposed, but she still couldn't refuse to offer the help if she could. (Which brought to mind Little Rat, who wouldn't accept help offered freely, without something in exchange. She'd have to ask about her, and see if Rat was okay. Maybe ask Nirvan next time she saw him.) "Okay, Aitreni. I'll take you on as an acolyte. That means you serve under me, and do what I tell you. I'll teach you how to serve Aditi. You'll be free to leave at any time if you want, no hard feelings, up until you take your final oaths. And that won't be for a while yet." Aitreni threw her arms about Delmara. "Thank you, Delmara. I'll be the best acolyte you've ever had!" "I think there should be room for Jad to stay here as well. He's too little to help yet, but he can when he's older. Aditi has priests too, you know." "Can we send Jad to school? He's almost eight, and mom always wanted him to go." Eight? Jad was much smaller than most kids, then. Probably the Joystix' effect on him. "I'll see what I can do. If need be, I'll teach him myself." Delmara's mind was whirling. Suddenly she seemed to have a family. And Radan? She faced the thought without flinching. She was bound by oath, she realized. If her love was asked for, she had to offer it, even if it was not returned. Even if, as in Radan's case, it was...or seemed to be. Even if it faded in time. For love was often hurtful. So the Lady taught. -- ---Alfvaen(1948 Books, 1090 Albums, And Counting) "How could I resist your American arms, and your French kiss?" --Julia Fordham Current Album--Tom Cochrane & Red Rider:Victory Day Current Read--Nicole Luiken:Mirror, Mirror MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: smurphy@unix1.tcd.ie (Mithrandir(S)) Subject: [Sorc] Stormy weather, Stormy thoughts Message-ID: Date: Mon, 5 Apr 1993 12:04:01 GMT Daytime. The citzens bussled about Generica, doing the chores and their work as citzens normally do. Guards guarded, sellers sold, thieves thieved. All in all, it was a pleasant day for all involved. Except one. There was a sea breeze, very stiff, unusually strong in fact. Citizens commented on it's strength and chill. The air was fresh, though, so there probably wasn't going to be any bad weather out of it. One person knew diffrent. In a small house, near the docks, there lived an elf. No ordinary elf. An Elf creature of the night. The sunlight was harmful to this elf so he slept in the darkness, all day. He dressed in grey silks. He was not the only one of his kind in the city, however. In the Northern areas of town slept a complete pack of Vampires. Calling themselves The Hunters, led by an ancient Vampire known as Alex, the Hunters had lived in a pleasant house for nearly six months. By night, they met with people, they killed, they also arranged deals. They had arranged a deal with someone. The Breeze grew stronger until it became a wind, then a gale. On the horizon, clouds slowly began gathering, dark as midnight, they began to advance, an army of destruction. There was rain out on the sea. In his basement, Silken tossed and turned in his sleep. The energy in the air was affecting him. The Storm. Memories of a man standing on a tower. The Storm The Man summoning tremendous magics. The Storm A Portal opening to Demonkind upon the face of Nexus. The Storm In Generica. The Storm. He leapt out of the bed in a frenzied sweat of terror and deja vu. The Storm!! It's happening now!! He quickly grabbed clothes, put them on, and strapped his sword to his side. But what was he going to do? In the northern part of the city, Alex, Anna, Tekuma, Barth and Khalid awoke silently, at the same moment. "Ladies and Gentlemen ", said Alex quietly, "today we will rise early. The petty mage Iglyarch needs his job done for him today. And so does his master." "Whoah, Alex", Barth interrupts, his Southern accent is light. "What is it, Barth?", asks Alex a little coldly. "It's still damn daylight out there. I can feel it. We have to wait until the Sun is covered before going anywhere." "Yes, Barth, I am aware of these things. For now, we must plan and feed. Khalid, bring the dinner from the cellar." The hulking form of Khalid, bronzed, tall and eminently muscular, rose from his bed and bowed once, without saying a word. He went out and down to the cellar. The elf, now dressed and ready, waited. The storm would cover the sunlight sufficiently, he was sure of that, so that he could go outside and try to do SOMETHING. He hadn't a clue WHAT he was going to do, though. He thought maybe the Dragon's Inn. But no, that would bw wrong. He had to do this alone. And the storm broke. -- To those trying to get in touch with Mithrandir, do not email to the Address in the header. It is borrowed, cause my newsfeed has exploded. Email:tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie Thanks. MagicHutchHeader From: fannicm@wkuvx1.bitnet (Master Hawk) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [TW] [Storm] The Quest Continues? Message-ID: <1993Apr5.094137.6708@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 5 Apr 93 09:41:37 CDT References: > Ixy repositioned himself > to be looking at both Eski and Moria, "I don't know how good or bad your > teleporting is, Moria, but if it isn't too dangerous, that seems to be our > best option in any event. I know where I come from, teleporting is very > dangerous unless you know EXACTLY where you are going, and have a good > recollection of what the place was like. A second hand description, no matter > how detailed- and I assume Amachiak could provide a very good one, is only > slightly less dangerous. Moria, you have to decide how much of a risk there > is, and then we will decide." "I got us back here, didn't I? There should be no problem if I can get an image of where I want to go directly from Amachiak or ChikChiak. It won't really be second-hand, so it'll be all-right, if Amachiak agrees?" > Ixy replied, "I don't think we should try out-running the storm, even though > I mentioned it as one of the best things to do. We are almost certain to > be moving slowly through the swamp, and then the storm will overtake us. The > last thing we need is for a stray lightning bolt to knock a tree down onto > one of us, or even worse to ignite a fire that will set the whole swamp in > flames- those swamp gases are usually VERY flammable- we were only lucky that > on the first outing we were not into the swamp proper yet, of course, the > mages may not have used fire if we were. Moria looked a little pale as she contemplated that thought. Obviously it had not occured to her. > "I do not know of such a place, althuogh now that I know what a Faerie circle > is, I'll know what took look for. Perhaps one of the others, who has been > here a while longer than I can help." Ixy looked straight at each of the other > members of the group looking for someone with a hint of knowledge. "I have no knowledge of such things as faerie circles. I do know that the members of my race are in the habit of calling surface elves 'faeries' as a term of derision. Perhaps they are constructs of elves and their minions. "As for being ready to go, what I do not have, I do not need. I am ready to go and exact my revenge." -=-=-=-=- _ _ _ _ , ' ) ) ) _/_ ' ) / / / / / __. _ / _ __ /--/ __. , , , /_ / ' (_(_/|_/_)_<__ Date: 5 Apr 93 10:14:18 CDT Kyar awoke with a yawn. Being aboard ship always made him sleep much more deeply. As he stood, he noticed the ship pitching and rolling in a violent manner. He scratched his head with some agitation. Although he new very little about sailing and sea travel, It seemed to him that the ship was acting quite peculiar. He debated on going back to bed, but decided to go up on deck and see for himself what was going on. When he arrived on deck, he was nearly washed overboard by what was in his own opinion an overly large wave. He was surprised to see also that very few of the sailors were on deck. He heard someone shouting something about a leak, and bailing, and moved to go below, but then noticed a very large figure (and a little guy) holding the wheel of the out of control vessel. "That can only be Segoi," Kyar said to himself. He moved slowly to the helm, holding on to ropes as he went to keep from being washed overboard. Segoi, however, had matters well in hand. In fact, the wood of the wheel seemed to warp against his great strength. Kyar concentrated, and reached out with his mind to the Phadra in the wood, strengthening it with his own. He felt the straining wood grow firmer, and then turned and focused his power into the storm, attempting to lessen its force around the ship. BAM! A flash of lighting hit Kyar, knocking him down off the poop deck. He took a long time getting up, and then climbed back up to Segoi. "What happened?" Segoi shouted. "The storm..." Kyar gasped, "It is not natural. Something didn't like me messing with it, so I guess that was a warning." "Yes, I know the nature of the storm is not natural." Segoi shouted, pulling against the wheel. "You would be wise not to interfere with it." "Yes, I would tend to agree with you!" Kyar shouted back, holding his still smoking chest. "Look!" Kyar shouted. "There! to the port! Another vessel!" Indeed, a black hulled three-master was about a hundred yards off the port bow. Kyar had never seen a ship like it before... ADMIN: Ok, somebody... what's on the ship? MagicHutchHeader From: peters@physics.ubc.ca (Dan Peters) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: ADMIN: Frogs! Date: 2 Apr 1993 04:28:47 GMT Message-ID: <1pgfdvINNic7@iskut.ucs.ubc.ca> References: <1993Apr1.212431.21226@cheshire.oxy.edu> Clinton Richard Wolf writes: >ADMIN: Starting tomorrow, the new theme of APDI will be frogs. Everyone will > become a frog.... > ... No execptions. > Join, or die. Toads are not allowed. > Thank you for your cooperation. Trust The Frog. The Frog is your friend. Those who disagree will be terminated immediately. Have a nice day. Drin -- ^..^ / | Dan Peters | | /_/\_____/ | | "Dragons is _so_ stupid." | /\ /\ |peters@physics.ubc.ca| | / \ / \ | | - Yosemite Sam | MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: Re: [AU] [Kardia] My Dinner with Andrea Message-ID: <1993Apr5.052743.15654@data-io.com> References: <1993Apr1.063421.24176@data-io.com> Date: Mon, 5 Apr 1993 05:27:43 GMT ADMIN - the >'ed lines are the tail end of Steven Hutchison's post titled "My Dinner with Andrea". Those keeping track of lines, please shut the door on [Kardia] as that one is now a part of the [AU] line. Also, I'm adding something to the bulletin board that says that Kardia's looking for a female roommate. Much thanks to Kelly Cooper for getting me into this, to Hutch for persisting in the face of idiotic mailers (and for the butterflies), to Chris for his amazing enthusiasm, and to both for their insane volume. Grin. It's actually getting me to write again... Liralen Li --------------- > "Why does this remind me of something? Never mind. Anyway, I bet > they still had their original body-images to revert to. But we'd have to > build a new one for Sheryl, probably with Andrea as template, and it would > most likely break down when your weavings got to it." Kardia smiled at 'Raelf's bet and nodded. Her brothers had actually changed back to human every night, which had made things a bit difficult then. Now she realized that this magician was quite correct in that their forms had been very much there for her to work to. The shirts she'd made for them had been fitted to them while they were human. Her eyes narrowed as she thought about the details of this working as she said, > "Perhaps not. It would be a difficult thing to work, though, > making the pattern sensitive to one spell without disturbing a > very similar spell." > > "Strewth, dudesse. Here, let me refocus - There, > see how the Unicorn pattern connects in these four places? Well, this black > one is the curse. The others are ones she grew, so they're natural to the > way she is now. So if the curse was to go, she'd still be a unicorn, but > she could be changed into other things if she wanted." > > "I see. Andrea, if you choose to have me remove the curse for you, > then I can do it, but as 'Raelf said, it may not return her to human. Are > you still interested?" > > Andrea sighed. "I think I need to talk to Sheryl for a while." Kardia nodded and smiled. She held her slender hand out for Sheryl to sniff and then gently scritched the tiny unicorn under the chin. "Can I find you here later, then? I'm staying at Mrs. Cludne's boarding house for this week and looking for a more open place to stay after that." She smiled, "A place that I could set up a wheel and loom, if possible, or even just a wheel." Andrea nodded, "We'll be here." ar'Elya said, "Littlefair maintains a bulletin board for ads, it might be a place to start to look for a long-term housing arraingement." Kardia nodded, "Thank you, I'll do that. I will check with you," she looked at Andrea, "as to any decisions, then, whenever I check up on wheither or not anyone's answered it... Oh..." she blinked as she remembered something. "'Raelf, you said you had someone else that might be able to use my capabilities? I'm pretty tired, right now, but maybe we could talk about it some other time?" She smiled, "It's been a pleasure to work with you and it'd be fun to look at some other curse that way. I'd never before seen what a curse looks like to someone else, outside of my head. The technology is fascinating." Carefully, she got up out of her chair, wincing a little as she stretched, and then bowing gently to all at the table. She left a tip on her own table and then limped over to Littlefair to pay for her meal. As she handed over the coinage she saw the board, looked it over once and frowned a little. More advertisements for adventures and hirings than something as prosaic as roomates. She shrugged and asked, "May I borrow a pen and have a piece of paper for your bulletin board?" as Littlefair handed over her change. "Sure." he handed them over. Kardia thought for a long moment, sighed, and then wrote: FEMALE ROOMATE/HOUSING WANTED Looking for a female housemate to share a house and expenses who doesn't mind late nights, no smoking... Kardia frowned, not having a clue what more to put on it, so that it would actually filter the kind of people that would answer it. Then she shook her head, grinned a crooked grin and added ... and Toad the Wet Sprocket on _Fear_. The one word is underlined. Littlefair didn't even blink at what was on it. He just read it and posted it and gave her a small nod. She grinned the crooked grin and limped out. It was dark now. Kardia breathed the coolness of the winter air into her lungs and let it go in a plume of body-heated steam and then turned back towards the Merchant's Hill and her bed at Mrs. Cludne's. The walk wasn't all that long, just a touch nerve wracking until she reached the Hill. That far of a walk managed to warm up all her stiff muscles, and she swung along quietly, thinking over the evening... remembering the colors that 'Raelf's eyes had turned, wondering if the Porter would have tasted anything like the guinesses that Alistair used to feed her, and being haunted by the silver web that was the patterns of power within the young unicorn. They had been so beautiful. She made it back to the house quickly, let herself in, locking the door behind her. She went to her room, quietly undressed, washed up and went to bed. All the while planning the making of Sheryl's cover. It would have to be in the shape of the unicorn as she was, to emphasize the shape that she was. Kardia fell asleep calculating the number of stitches she'd need to comfortably surround Sheryl's barrel... * * * It was with a sense of deja vu that Kardia realized she was dreaming again. A detached part of her mind worried over the fact that she was having this many lucid dreams in such a short interval. The rest of her was simply terrified by what she was watching. She didn't know why it terrified her so. The image was merely that of a dance of butterflies. She looked at the variety, the coloring, the flight pattern and saw that these were butterflies a continent away. Then she realized that what she'd first mistaken for sunlight was the presense of power. Power on a scale she'd never even imagined before, and with the kind of knowledge that is in dreams, she knew it was somehow connected to Generica. The realization of the source of her fear broke the dream. Kardia woke, drenched in sweat and looked out her window only to see brick and darkness. Not even the hint of either moonlight or sunlight. It was still night. She shivered and got out of bed long enough to pull some knitting from her bag, a thickly cabled pullover from plain wool. The terrifying flavor of that power was much like that in the dream that had first brought her into this city, but she still had no clue as to its source or its meaning. She lit the candle next to the bed and relaxed into the straightfoward task of putting one stitch after another onto the right needle. She would have to do Sheryl's unbinding in knitting unless she worked with the looms at the Guild, and she was reluctant to do her... she smiled at the word... disenchanting there. She worked at the sweater until the metallic taste of adrenaline faded from her mouth and she could relax enough to go back to sleep. -- Liralen Li | "... and how you feel can make it real aka Phyllis Rostykus | Real as anything you've seen... " li@Data-IO.com | Peter Gabriel _US_ MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac169@Freenet.carleton.ca (Darryl Farr) Subject: [JOI] [Storm] Damage Control Message-ID: <1993Apr5.213545.20311@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Mon, 5 Apr 1993 21:35:45 GMT As the last strains of applause faded, Ildamar turned to Quaeros to suggest another song, perhaps a ballad. The words died on his lips, however, as he saw the approaching storm. The wind picked up, and a flash of lightning rent the air. The crew leaped into action, swiftly climbing the rigging and taking down the sails, as a crew member ordered the companions below. Before they could reach the hatch, the skies opened up, and great torrents of rain poured down. The sky was almost completely dark, and the wind was howling fiercely. Ildamar made his way to the hatch and quickly went below. The next few minutes were a blur of action, as a sailor bellowed that the hull had been breached, and several crew and passengers hurried to the site of the break. The damage was in the stable area, and the horses were shrieking furiously as the water swirled about their hooves. Ildamar rushed over to the horses and whispered a few soothing words. They quieted almost immediately, but their fear was obviously shown by the whites of their eyes, clearly visible. While the horses were relatively relaxed, Ildamar grabbed a bucket and started bailing furiously. About half a minute later, Laurenth burst through the door and started arguing with a sailor. She clutched an amulet around her neck, and seemed to sink into a sort of trance. Shortly thereafter, the ship was tossed violently by the sea, and Elanon's horse pitched into the wall. Ildamar rushed over and inspected the animal. Its leg was badly injured, and appeared to be broken. He bent over the limb and muttered softly, as a light blue glow surrounded the unnatual bend. The leg straightened itself, and one could almost hear the bones stitching themselves back together under the blue skinned hands. With a lurch, the horse climbed back to its feet and stood quietly. Mailatha, Ildamar's horse, sniffed the healed animal, and nuzzled the leg, as the horses calmed down once again. Behind him, Ildamar heard a shriek above the sound of the storm and whirled around. Darkin was standing knee-deep in the water, with a bucket dangling from her hand and her mouth open wide enough that Ildamar swore he could see her stomach. She was staring at Laurenth's unconscious body, slowly sinking beneath the water, which no longer seemed to be rising. The crew was simply looking at the hole, or rather, the hull where the hole used to be. Ildamar rushed over and pulled Laurenth to her feet, supporting her weight almost entirely. She seemed to be dazed, as her eyelids flickered, and her eyes struggled to focus on something. "What happened! Why did she pass out?" Ildamar yelled at the crew. "Sh-she did sumpin' what fixed the hole!!" stammered a young sailor, desperately trying to pull his eyes back inside his head, "She just fainted!" Ildamar pulled Laurenth from the room, past Darkin, who was now silent and seemed to be in a state of shock. He pushed past several mariners in the corridor and ruched to Laurenth and Darkins room, where he carried her inside and placed her on her cot. She was starting to regain consciousness, and murmuring odd noises. Ildamar pulled a blanket up to her neck as Darkin entered the room "I'll watch her. You just go see what else you can do," she said, walking to the side of the bed. -- -- }{}{ When I was a little boy, I had but little Wit, Darryl Farr (}{) 'Tis a long time ago, And I have no more yet; The Grey Man }{}{ Nor ever, ever shall, Until that I die, ac169@freenet.carleton.ca (}{) For the longer I live, The more Fool am I. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac169@Freenet.carleton.ca (Darryl Farr) Subject: [JOI] [Storm] Damage Control (cont.) Message-ID: <1993Apr5.215156.25578@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Mon, 5 Apr 1993 21:51:56 GMT [Admin: Apologies for the abrupt ending to the previous post. I ran into... time restrictions.] "Are you going to be alright?" Ildamar asked, "You looked pretty shaken in there." "I'll be fine! Just go!" Darkin retorted. "I'll probably be up on deck if you need me," Ildamar replied, standing to leave, "Don't hesitate to call if you or Laurenth need anything." The corridor was pitching furiously as Ildamar made his way back to the hatch. He forced the trapdoor open against the wind, and hurriedly climbed through. Glancing around, he saw Segoi struggling to hold the ship's wheel steady against the fury of the storm, with Kyar standing nearby. The latter man seemed to be injured, from the way he was clutching his chest, but he was still managing to stand under his own power. Both men were staring of the port side of the ship, to Ildamar's right, and he turned his head to see what was holding their scrutiny. Off the port side of the ship floated a huge black, three-masted ship, apparently a galleon of some sort. There was a pennant flying off the pinnacle of the mizzenmast, but Ildamar couldn't make it out through the pounding rain. There were creatures scrambling through the rigging, about human size, but they were too pale, as if their skin had been bleached, or... as if they were merely constructs of living bone! Ildamar felt a chill run along his spine. He had seen a similar ship, many years ago, on another world. He had been the only survivor. -- -- }{}{ When I was a little boy, I had but little Wit, Darryl Farr (}{) 'Tis a long time ago, And I have no more yet; The Grey Man }{}{ Nor ever, ever shall, Until that I die, ac169@freenet.carleton.ca (}{) For the longer I live, The more Fool am I. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hibschmn@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Johann Allen Hibschman) Subject: [JOI] Quaeros aids Laurenth and... Message-ID: <1993Apr5.202150.1865@Princeton.EDU> Date: Mon, 5 Apr 1993 20:21:50 GMT Quaeros looked up from where he had been frantically bailing only to see Laurenth collapse, unconscious, to the deck. The deck which was under at least a foot of water. As Darkin and the crewmen looked on in shock, Quaeros dropped his bucket, waded towards Laurenth's crumpled form, and lifted her head out of the water. She began to cough immediately, but still showed no signs of returning to consciousness. /At least she doesn't seem to have inhaled too much water/ thought Quaeros. Aloud, he quickly urged, "Darkin! Please, help me. We have to get Laurenth to her bunk." Darkin shook her head slightly and made her way over to Laurenth's prone form and began to help Quaeros move her out of the hold, while the crew bailed out the remaining water. Just as they were leaving the hold, Quaeros felt first a tenuous mental contact, then a dim voice echoing in the back of his skull, whispering, "well, look who's here..." Quaeros shook his head, and looked confusedly over to Darkin. "C'mon! Don't just stand there, hurry up!" Quaeros shot a quick glance behind him, and then continued to help Darkin carry Laurenth to her bunk. Once there, they pushed Laurenth onto it and covered her with a blanket. Fishing around in his belt pouches, Quaeros pulled out a small stoppered glass flask. He opened the flask and held it beneath Laurenth's nose. Above, on the deck of the ship, Kyar and Segoi strove to identify the unknown vessel not approaching their own. Their watch was interrupted by a bolt of lightning which arced down from the clouds above, striking the deck behind them with no effect. The brilliant arc hung in the air for several seconds before dissipating. Below, Darkin watched in stunned horror as a bolt of energy emerged from the ceiling above to envelop Quaeros for several seconds. He then fell to the floor and lay there unmoving... Quaeros was home in the storm, beating his powerful wings, rejoicing in the rush of wind about his face. He looked down at his fearsome clawed hands and reached out to the lightnings, feeling their force caress his body. Looking down to the sea below, he saw two ships locked in combat. Dark figures from the black ship were overrunning the other vessel, slaughtering those on board. The blood of the slain was a gift to him, although he did not know how he knew this. It was an offering, and he saw that it was good. Another presence was there, one greater than himself. He heard a voice in his mind, saying /Yes. It can be as you see below. You are one of Mine, and the power you may weild has no limits. Join Me, aid Me in destroying your companions. They are not your friends; they cannot understand your nature. Have no fear, you will not be harmed unless you resist, and there is no reason to resist. Give in to your heart and help me.../ Quaeros sat up with a start from where he'd been lying on the cabin floor. With shaking hands, he took out his flute and began to play... for several seconds MagicHutchHeader From: zweldron@ruhets.rutgers.edu (Matthew Charlap) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [TW] [Storm] The Quest Continues? Message-ID: Date: 5 Apr 93 23:50:35 GMT References: <1993Apr5.094137.6708@wkuvx1.bitnet> fannicm@wkuvx1.bitnet (Master Hawk) writes: [description of exploding swamp omitted] > Moria looked a little pale as she contemplated that thought. Obviously >it had not occured to her. Ixy, seeing her shocked appearence quickly added, "But, of course that didn't happen, and we now know to avoid such a circumstance." > "As for being ready to go, what I do not have, I do not need. I am >ready to go and exact my revenge." "Yes, I'm ready. all we need now is a plan of action- and whether to go now of after the storm. How long do you think a storm like this will last?" -- --Matthew Charlap ------------------------------------------------------------- zweldron@ruhets.rutgers.edu zweldron@dorm.rutgers.edu What are you looking at!? You're looking at my .sig! Well I'm working on it! MagicHutchHeader Date: Mon, 5 Apr 1993 13:28:45 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93095.132845ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Storm][L&S] Old Friends Outside his house, in his garden of a thousand different plants, Luthor had set up a wooden table. He sat on one side of it, looking thoughtfully at the wooden pieces set out on the table. They were resting ontop of a checkerboard pattern of alternating black and red squares. At the opposite side of the table was what looked like a bright green set of bagpipes with an occasional leaf sprouting here and there. Luthor moved a wooden horse and said, "Check" The green bagpipes grabbed its queen and moved it to the horse with one of its tenticles. Then it took the horse and threw it in the top of its main body. A crunching/splintering/cracking sound followed. Luthor sighed and though, 'If you keep eating the pieces, we're never going to have a second game.' The creature squished/laughed a response. Luthor heard the sound of the wind behind him and said, "You're getting old, I thought you would be here sooner," without turning to look. "I am no older than when we first met Luthor," a young man in gray robes responded stepping up to the table. He could have been no older than twenty-five, but his eyes held a greater wisdom. The strong winds from the sea whipped his long blond hair around him wildly. "Hail and well met Erik, it is good to see you again." The two hugged in greeting, "What took you so long?" "Mark and I had another fight...it's no big deal. So, lets have a look at this storm." The two men walked to the other side of the house. Already, the waves had grown to twice their normal size. In the distance, a swirling pattern of dark clouds could be seen, punctuated by an occasional flash of lightening. "Have you tried turning it back?" Erik asked, staring into the storm with more than normal vision, "It should be around a ninth order probability by now, we should be able to do it together." "No, it's much past a ninth now. The damn Sea Guard sent runners all around town telling the townsfolk that it was GOING to hit. No, it's out of our hands. All we can do is minimize the damage." A look of worry wrinkled Luthor's brow as pictures of ShadeHaven being torn to splinters assaulted his imagination. "Luthor, we're going to need the gem. Get it out." Erik commanded him. Half a moment later, Luthor held the gem in his hand. Streaks of white glittered off of a hundred fascets as light finally touched it, out of the BLACKness of Luthor's cloak. "Now, you lead. First we'll save your house, then we'll work on the beach." "Stone column?" "Yes, that should do nicely...and clear your head. Do you actually think that the Fog will let anything happen to Serene and Mista? Now, focus." "THIS HOUSE COULD RISE" Luthor incanted, picturing a rising column of earth and twisting the laws of probability with the aid of Erik and the gem. The earth rumbled and shook. Pressures that had been building in the Nexian crust found a point of release and pushed. Luthor and Erik were thrown to the ground as the earth around them heaved upward. A huge column of stone rose 20 feet into the air, throwing debris into the yards of the neighboring houses. ShadeHaven's roots anchored it firmly to the top of the column as it rose...now to the 40 foot mark. At 50 feet, it stopped. Captain stuck his head out of a second story window. "Hey, stop that, you're making Mista cry and I just put her to bed," he went back in, but the two ShadowMakers could still hear him grumbling to himself, "Damn wizards, always making noise." Erik and Luthor looked at each other and shrugged. --------- Prakteus's arms ached, but this was no time to quit. No, he didn't much like the Low City, but it was his home and he was going to save every stinking inch that he could. He had lost homes before, to bandits, to fire, the thought of losing another home was unbearable. He reached for another sand bag and added it to the pile of a thousand others that he had put there himself. The bags were being handed to him by Talmos Blackletter, a local merchant who Prakteus normally hated. Talmos was a selfish and lazy man, but he had children who meant everything to him. For this reason, he was here risking his life. The bags that were being filled with sand were from Talmos's warehouse. The flour that they normally held was being dumped on the ground, such was their desperation. The wind was unbelieveably strong. Waves struck tirelessly against the fragile wall of sand and people. Again and again, smash, smash, smash. It was all hopeless, yet they struggled against the forces of nature herself to save their pitiful land. Captain Lorren had ordered the people away from the wall when it became obvious to her that it was going to fall. A few left, but most stayed and kept working. It remeinded her of a disturbed ant hill. The workers would stay rescuing the young without regard for their own lives. A huge wave gathered force and rushed the shore. It took Prakteus by suprise and washed him off the wall. For a moment, he held onto the seaward side of the sandbags, reaching desperately for Talmos's outstreached hand, but another wave struck, sending him under. A hulking figure, misshapen by fate and several hundred years of fighting, dove into the water after him. Shouts of, "Get him Trawm!" followed the Half-Troll into the watery depths. "It's gonna fall!" came a shout from the rear as the wall began to crumble. "THE SAND COULD FUSE!" shouted a man in BLACK as he ran toward the wall holding a black gem in his hand. A moment later, the wall stopped collapsing and held, having been turned to solid stone. Wasting no time to give thanks, Captain Lorren began barking orders to the dumbfounded people. Soon, the lines of sandbags began again. She turned to look for the man in BLACK, but he had already moved on. Nearby, Trawm pulled the gasping form of Prakteus from the raging sea, back into the world of the living. ---------- All around Generica, normal people did heroic deeds, but would it be enough? Love and Peace and Courage, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] [Storm] [Jiri] The Storm Builds Date: Mon, 05 Apr 93 21:32:05 CDT Message-ID: <16BA712ED5.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: Andrea unicorn Sheryl Jiriku Kyhra [AU] [Jiri] [Storm] ADMIN: As always, thanks to the other authors in this thread [you must know who they are by now]. Thunder was sounding close by as Kyhra arrived at the seawall, to help with the sandbag reinforcement. The Seaguard supervisor took one look at him and pointed down the wall to an area where only a few men were working. Kyhra nodded, and walked down the path. As he looked out over the wall at the sea, he observed that the storm front was much closer, and looked much more ominous now--a solid grey-black wall, reaching up into the sky and across the horizon in either direction, and billowing ominously as it approached him. He could see individual tongues of lightning flickering out between cloud and sea now, and saw the first rough breakers crashing against the shore and up over the seawall, splattering many workers (himself included) with saltwater. Kyhra shook, and swore to himself, sharing to some degree the feline aversion to getting wet. As the wind from the sea picked up, Kyhra felt a chill from that water beginning to evaporate. "Pile those sandbags!" the supervisor bawled out over the thunder and rising wind. "The storm's almost here--we don't have much time!" Obediently, Kyhra put his back into it. The elevated level of the city made the seawall four feet high here, though the sea itself was about thirty feet below it on the other side. During normal times, anyway. Right now, the wind was whipping it into a violent frenzy and it was lapping in, breaking against the wall about halfway up it and sometimes slopping over the side. Kyhra lifted sandbag after sandbag, piling them atop the seawall with other workers. It soon became apparent that he was the most capable worker there, for his mighty thews could lift the bags of sand like humans lifted sacks of flour. The storm crept closer and closer... <> Andrea looked nervously out the door for the umpteenth time. Most everybody else had gone below into the cellars, but she had stayed up here, with Sheryl, because she wanted to watch the storm. Also, she got slightly claustrophobic in cramped spaces, and the cellar shelter now certainly was cramped. The Dragon's Inn common room was dim, lit only by a single lantern above Andrea's table--all the other lights were out and taken down to reduce the possibility of the Inn catching on fire. Outside, the storm raged. Littlefair'd had to bar the main doors, to keep the wind from splintering them, but the side door that opened into one of the blockaded alleys was still open for the sick and wounded. Right now, Littlefair was down below keeping order, and Jiriku was in the back, getting ready to treat the sick and wounded who would surely begin to pour in as soon as the storm stopped. Currently, the sound level was frightening. The wind howled outdoors like a demon's shriek, and every so often there was a CRASH! as it blew something down. There was the occasional creaking of the timbers inside the inn, but Andrea wasn't worried--the Dragon's Inn was one of the better-constructed buildings in this part of town. Lightning was active too, sometimes striking nearby with a deafening boom, which startled Sheryl. Carson the cat had long since been frightened out of his wits and hidden under the bar. Andrea put down the book she was reading and vaulted over the bar herself, looking among the bottles and kegs for something she could drink. "Hmmm...mead, dark ale, Catamount Porter..." she muttered to herself. "Ugh. I like my ale stout as much as the next guy, but how 'Raelf can drink THAT stuff is beyond me. Let's see...ah, this looks like it might be good." She grabbed an expensive-looking bottle of ale, left a gold piece in its place, and jumped back over the bar to her table. She uncorked the bottle and drank deeply. "Ah, now, that's good ale..." As thunder once again boomed close by, she again took up the book. "Let's see..." she muttered. "Is it 'Tuar Nigma Sharlocht,' or 'Tuar Naga Sherlicht'? It's hard to tell in this light..." Then Andrea saw Sheryl look at something behind her, and she quickly shut the book and put it away in her knapsack. It was Jiri. "Greetings," she said. He nodded in return, going around behind the bar and appropriating some drink in much the same fashion as Andrea had, then came over to her table. "Mind if I sit down?" "Go right ahead," Andrea said, taking a long pull at the bottle. She eyed the Wolfmage curiously as he took his seat. "So, you think you can handle the storm's casualties?" He shrugged. "I hope so. I can, of course, use all the help I can get." He looked over at Sheryl, who was currently sniffing at the crack in the door. "She's right..." he mused. "What?" Andrea asked. "Sheryl knows it too," Jiri said. "This is no ordinary storm." "What do you mean?" Andrea asked. "It's all--WRONG. I don't know if I can explain it to a human, but all natural weather has a certain scent, a certain FEEL. This storm has an entirely DIFFERENT feel--a malign sensation, like something dead. There is evil at work here, I am sure of it." Andrea shrugged. "Hopefully it will pass." Jiri nodded. "Oh, it will pass all right," he said. "I just hope that Generica will still be here after it does." -- Chris Meadows || "The Zetons look like beautiful CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || women, but their tissues are made CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || of paper, so they burn, like paper." CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || --Captain Harlock, Ziv's lame-o dub. MagicHutchHeader From: jclifford@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (jen/cliffy :)) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] [Storm] Attack Message-ID: <1993Apr5.225927.4947@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 5 Apr 93 22:59:27 -0400 [ADMIN] Well, we have a fine predicament on our hands-- who helped Laurenth back to her room... Ildamar or Quaeros? Considering the fact that Ildamar is first we'll go with that... so he helps Laurenth to her room with Darkin close behind, he leaves and Quaeros enters. OK? That about solves our "Post at the same time" problem. Laurenth was slowly coming to the surface of conscious thought when she felt more than saw the bright light that engulfed the room. She opened her eyes and noticed Quaeros lying on the floor of her cabin. He looked stunned as he pulled out his flute and began to play. The last few minutes were blurry and it was hard to figure out what was real and what wasn't. As Laurenth had been patching the hole she had felt a mind probing hers, testing her power. She only noticed that Darkin had been in the room when she left in a hurry. Darkin had been acting strange recently, but why would she leave the relative safety of cabin to enter the chaos of the rest of the ship? Darkin, after a frozen moment, left her cabin in a hurry. What she had seen was not to be believed. Quaeros was there, a flash of blinding light, he was gone, a brief pause and he was back again searching for his flute. The laughter was continueing in her head, not as loud as it was before, but it seemed to be leading her up to the deck. Upon reaching the deck she could see another ship too close for comfort. Checking her boots she found her daggers to be where she kept them. It reassured her a little to have some of her weapons with her, if not all of them. Darkin spotted Aleric about ten feet away and proceeded to try and find out more information. "What's going on? Who or what are they and why are they after us? Do you think someone sent them after us? Is there anything I can do to help?" Darkin exclaimed. "As far as I know they are non-human. I am not sure who sent them, but my guess is that whom ever is responsible for this storm sent them with it." Aleric replied. "I have a feeling they are not the friendly sort." Darkins flippant remark voiced with a serious tone made Aleric smile. Although this wasn't a time for fun and games for the black ship was now along side. The creatures on deck were throwing ropes from their ship to the place where Darkin and Aleric stood. All of a sudden Quaeros was standing beside them, flute in hand with a peaceful smile on his face, Laurenth at his side. Men from below the decks of the Rhymand {our ship needed a name, if it had one I missed it} came pouring out to meet the onslaught of creatures. There didn't seem to be any point, the creatures were indestructable. Every time one was cut in half both halves would mutate into a whole. They were taking over and all the crew could think of doing was to continue to use their swords. [Anyone?] }Z{ "We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year." --Pink Floyd MagicHutchHeader From: hilanse@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Bossie][Storm] Farming Stinks Message-ID: <1993Apr5.230009.6721@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 5 Apr 93 23:00:09 CDT The Beast had been out of control since the first gale force winds had hit Generica. The exhilaration of flight had been marvelous, and the beast did not notice the oncoming storm, swept into its clutches, the beast could only attempt to miss objects in its path. The last gale had taken it close to the streets, and dangerously close to the walls of the buildings. It had shrieked in panic, narrowly avoiding death against the facades, but striking the human in its path, bruising the Beast, but not causing it serious harm. The winds had died down quite a bit, and the creature was drawn back to its old home. It flew in limping strokes until it reached the crushed farmhouse. It swooped down into the field and landed, giving its exhausted wings a rest. It walked the grounds, looking at the ruin. The horses, pigs, goats, and chickens were nowhere to be seen, but in the middle of the field, lying facedown, was farmer J2BR. Joe Bob Billy Ray looked up into the sunshine, and wondered. He could remember being swept from his cellar after his house was blown away, and then being flung to the ground. He thanked his personal gods for the fate that had befallen him, knowing a destroyed farm could be rebuilt, but a lifeless corpse could not do the rebuilding. He looked to where the barn had stood, and in the ruin he knew somewhere must lay his beloved cow Bossie. He mourned her loss as he would that of a family member, for she had been his family through the hardest years of his life. He walked towards the barn, hoping against all hope. The Beast watched the human rise from the ground and walk to the ruined barn, searching through the rubble. It made circumstances ideal for the beast. It slowly crept up to its prey, and as it neared the debris, it stepped carefully to avoid warning its victim. The vampire cow leapt, swooping its wings for added lift, to make the blow a crushing one, when the human turned around. J2BR heard the whooshing noise and turned to see Bossie leaping at him, his joy turned to terror as he realized the perversion of her body. The evil that pervaded her form had grotesquely altered her bovine shape. He fell heavily under the hoofs of the beast and was crushed to death, his last thoughts those of sickness, terror, and betrayal. The Beast suckled at the neck of its prey, gaining finesse in its vampiric attacks. It smiled toothily as a drop of blood ran from its chin. It had no remorse, and it thought happily of the expression that had been on the human's face. BEASTIES (C)1993 In the MOOd for Love Wonko The Sane --MAN! ---She killed Farmer Joe Bob Billy Ray, how coldhearted! --No man, I was talking about the really cool death scene. ---You're hopeless, man, just hopeless. MagicHutchHeader From: stegehe@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Eldarath: Revelations Message-ID: <1993Apr5.231110.6722@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 5 Apr 93 23:11:10 CDT Eldarath left the Dragon's Inn with a light heart. Telling Wonko of his escape from disaster had removed a great weight from his shoulders. Now he could get back to his real problem: the research of the strange artifact he had found in the Cave of Lost Souls. Thinking back, Eldarath stroked the small, gold ring on his right hand. He was thankful for this ring, for it had saved him from almost certain death at the bridge over the Bottomless Canyon. As he fell, he had activated the ring, which instantly teleported him to the nearest level ground. As luck would have it Eldarath had found himself in a large, musty cavern, cut into to side of the canyon. While exploring the cavern, Eldar had come upon a small stone altar on which rested a glowing green gem. Inscribed in the altar runes of an ancient tongue, long forgotten over the eons. Eldarath had taken the gem and had written down the runes, though they were quite baffling. He spent several days finding his way out of the cave system. Upon his emergence, he immediately consulted his old friend and mentor Balin, a sage. Balin, though one of the wisest in the land, could not decipher the runes. However Balin did suggest that Eldarath keep the gem in a Tupperware bowl which Balin provided him with. Eldarath burped the lid and set off on a mission which was to take up two years of his life. After much research in the most ancient libraries in the realm, Eldarath was able to translate the writing, which referred to the gem as the Stone of Power, a relic of immense magical strength. Though startled by his find, Eldarath decided he must find Wonko and tell him of his survival and latest adventures. While reflecting over this Eldarath was brought back to the present when a deafening noise shattered the air around him. "Must be thunder," Eldarath thought, then realized that he was again without his hat. "Damn that Wonko! He did it to me again, and he's still got my Tupperware bowl. Looks like I won't be eating noodles tonight." Lightning flashed across the sky, and Eldarath began to look for shelter as rain and hail pelted him. He finally ducked into an alley, where he was sheltered from the unnaturally violent storm which continued to rage on. Eldarath collected his thoughts, then peered out onto the street to find a more substantial shelter. Luckily, the Inn and Out was just down the street. "I'll just run over there when the storm lets up," Eldar thought as he surveyed the street. Suddenly Eldar saw a familiar figure racing up the street, apparently followed by some hellish nightmare of horns and wings. Eldarath tried to scream a warning to Wonko, who was almost to the door of the Inn and Out, but was stifled by another thunderclap. Wonko dived for the door of the Inn, and was apparently safe, until the Inn collapsed on top of him. Despair rushed over Eldarath as he saw the winged creature fly off into the darkness. Eldarath hurried over to the ruins to aid his companion. Howard E. Steger STEGEHE@WKUVX1.BITNET MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: [JOI][Storm] The ship of death... Message-ID: <1993Apr6.144633.4789@ultb.isc.rit.edu> Date: Tue, 6 Apr 1993 14:46:33 GMT "Kyar!" at the sight of the lightning striking him, Segoi almost left the wheel to run to his fallen comrade. However on seeing him rise up again, he remained fast to the wheel and the helms man who was by now stuck between him and the wheel without hope of going anywhere. As Kyar rose and saw the balck ship from the port bow he pointed, and following his point Segoi turned and looked. Not being able to make out much from the waves and the wind blowing in his face, Segoi strained to see. His hood was almost blown back, but he quickly steadied it with a hand that was replaced on the wheel as speedily. "I must see that ship," he muttered to himself. And so saying he turned his full attention on the ship. His eyes began to glow blue from beneath the dark hood, yet in the storm no one noticed with all the chaos that was going on anyway. The ship then appeared to him clear as on a smooth lake, and what he saw on it displeased him greatly. Scampering over the riggings were skeletons of sailors long since dead, their tattered cloths still clung here and there. A baleful yellow lantern hung on the bow of the ship, casting an eeire light over the waves. The crew, if one could call them that, seemed to be reading weapons, and canons for attack, he could see now the muzzles of the dire things protruding from the hull of the Black ship. The hull itself was riddled with holes and by all rights should not be afloat. But most terrifying of all was the figure on the bridge that caught Segoi's full attention. A black robed figure tall as himself, yet much thinner, with white hands, and carrying a... sythe. Segoi's eyes abruptly stopped glowing. He turned to Kyar, who was holding fast to the rigging. "We _must_ out run that ship!" he shouted to Kyar,"It is the Black Ship of Death!" Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] [Storm] Turning the tide Message-ID: <1993Apr6.104856.4949@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 6 Apr 93 10:48:56 -0400 The black ship had drawn up alongside the Rhymand and the...figures aboard it began casting lines to the ship. There wasn't much else to describe the things on the other ship. All the figures were deathly pale and gaunt. Some were in varios states of decay and flesh hung in tatters from their bones. The wraiths (as seemed the best word to use) moved in eerie silence. The only sounds were the shouts from the mortals on the Rhymand. As each line was cast and tangled on the rail, the mariners hacked at them and severed as many lines as they could. But the number of lines cut was no match for the amount that flung from the black ship. Soon enough of the wraiths had made it to the ship that the sailors were no longer able to cut them away. The wraiths grappled with those on the ship. Where each wraith touched it left a burn mark, though the wraiths' touch was one of arctic cold. The men fought back the only way they knew how, with steel. The blades cut through the wraiths easily, seeming to defeat them. But a few seconds after the pieces fell to the deck they either regenerated into a whole being again or, if the pieces were large enough, became two new wraiths. Morale faltered as the number of opponents did not lessen, but grew. For the members of the company, Segoi was still at the helm with the helmsman using his titanic strength to steady the wheel. He could not afford to leave the wheel or the sea would wrest control of the ship and send it crashing into the black ship or capsize it. Kyar could and did leap from the poopdeck into the melee below. Using his scimitar he tried to help the mariners repulse the onslaught. Darkin fought like a tigress at Aleric's side. Together, they worked their way to Kyar and stood shoulder to shoulder defending themselves against the wraiths' icy grip. The three were at the edge of the deck, pressing the wraiths before them against the gunwale. With a sudden shove that cost him near crippling burns to his left hand and forearm, Aleric knocked one wraith overboard into the raging sea. That one sank below the surface and did not rise again. Evidently their emaciated forms could not swim. Raising his voice above the shouts of the mariners, (for the wraiths fought in the same eerie silence they used on their ship) Aleric shouted, "Push them overboard! They can't swim!" Others took up his cry and all now used the flats of their blades to beat the wraiths to the rail. Unfortunately, for every wraith that fell to the waves, two more seemed to come from the black ship. Something needed to be done to remove the ship before the decks could be cleared of the wraiths. ADMIN: Okay you mages in our group, what can you do about that ship? And what are Quaeros and Laurenth up to? (i.e. are they posessed or something?) MagicHutchHeader From: fannicm@wkuvx1.bitnet (Master Hawk) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [TW] [Storm] The Quest Continues? Message-ID: <1993Apr6.103628.6730@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 6 Apr 93 10:36:27 CDT References: <1993Apr5.094137.6708@wkuvx1.bitnet> In article , zweldron@ruhets.rutgers.edu (Matthew Charlap) writes: >> "As for being ready to go, what I do not have, I do not need. I am >>ready to go and exact my revenge." > > "Yes, I'm ready. all we need now is a plan of action- and whether to go now > of after the storm. How long do you think a storm like this will last?" "I know little of storms and such, having lived most of my life below the ground, but I believe that we should leave as soon as possible. We have already been delayed once...and the sooner I get there, the sooner I can exact my revenge on those who would dare to attack me and those under my protection." -=-=-=-=- _ _ _ _ , ' ) ) ) _/_ ' ) / / / / / __. _ / _ __ /--/ __. , , , /_ / ' (_(_/|_/_)_<__ Date: 6 Apr 93 11:23:26 CDT Kyar drew his silver bladed scimitar, and, concentrating for several seconds, drew in the power of the Phadra from the boiling seas around the ship. With a mighty kia, he leaped a full twenty feet across the sea to the deck of the black ship, cutting down one of the corpse like attackers as he landed. His blade slid cleanly through the pale flesh, leaving a gaping wound from which poured a black sticky fluid. Another of the seemingly mindless creatures leaped for him, but a swift kick to the knee put it down. A second later, however, Kyar was dismayed to see his fallen opponents getting up again, their wounds apparently healed. He backed up to the rail of the deck, and when one of the beasts charged, he slipped to the side, whirling his short blade in a backwards arc that knocked his opponent over the side, in the narrow space between the two vessels. The second creature charged at almost the same instant, giving Kyar no chance to react. It sprawled into him, biting and clawing, and wherever Kyar felt the touch of its flesh it seemed to draw at his strength. He found himself flung face up to the black decking, with the creature atop of him, trying to sink its teeth into his throat. He struggled and managed to get one arm free, his left. He reached out with his hand towards his boot, and his silver dagger flew from its sheath to his hand. He plunged the blade in the back of the beasts neck to the hilt, stopping it for at least a few seconds. He then quickly stood, and dragged the creature to the rail, throwing it into the sea. Kyar suddenly was free from opponents for a brief moment. It seemed that most of the beasts had boarded, or at least attempted to board, the companion's vessel. He closed his eyes, and reached out with his mind to Aleric... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kmwilcox@iastate.edu (Kevin M Wilcox) Subject: [Mr B][Storm] The boat washes ashore Message-ID: Keywords: mister boddy storm Date: Tue, 6 Apr 1993 19:03:42 GMT The boat slid ashore, only one conscious figure aboard. "Wake up, you two," Mister Boddy told his sleeping comrades. He reached under the tarpaulin and shook Evan until the other sat up. "It's not my shift for two hours," Evan protested. He started to lie back down when he noticed. "Oh." Together they woke Dana, and the three of them pulled the boat onto the beach. Dana secured it, while Boddy and Evan searched for a place to hole up. "I found something down here!" Boddy yelled. The others joined him at the mouth of a shallow cave. "It's up awfully high, so it should be safe during a high tide." Boddy began piling the dry twigs and leaves into a small pile, and the other two searched around for larger wood which was still burnable. Eventually, a small fire was started, and Boddy took the first watch. Evan set his watch for the shift change. "It's been 60 hours since we appeared in the storm," he announced. Boddy looked out at the open sea. "I don't think it will let up soon. You two sleep, and I'll try to think what we are going to do." "I wonder if Heidi and William are trying to find us," Dana mumbled. Evan looked very concerned. "To them, we've been gone over a month now." Boddy pounded the dirt floor. "We have to do something!" Dana mumbled some more then rolled over and fell asleep. "Don't worry yourself. Everything will be okay. William's probably set everything up and is just waiting out the storm," Evan said, trying hard to calm Boddy, who was pacing in the rain. "And get in here! Worrying's not going to help." "You get to sleep. I'm going to try to find food. None of us has eaten in days, and I didn't have the reserves in the first place," Boddy told him, and disappeared around the side. -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* [ADMIN: Here is where the characters washed ashore. (From the Atlas)] ###########/ ######/~~~~*Generica #####|*<--The cave #####/ ####/ *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* / K. M. Wilcox/ \Mister Boddy \ *-*-*-*-*-*-*-* "So, Professor Jenkins!... My old nemesis!... *-*-*-*-*-*-*-* \ We meet again, but this time the advantage is mine! Ha! Ha! Ha!" / *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* MagicHutchHeader From: jmondak@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (JACK-SPRAT) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI][Storm] Nightmare...Revisited Message-ID: <1993Apr6.145435.4952@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 6 Apr 93 14:54:35 -0400 Segoi was not the only one who recognized that ship. As Alarond was rushing about helping bail the Rhymar, he jumped around to hone in the battle cries coming fom the upper deck. He raced up the ladders and was met by the sight of Aleric and Kyar fighting off the wraiths--with little success. They just kept coming at them from all sides. At the moment when Segoi cried out, Alarond looked to see the thing he had feared the most--his own dream fulfilled! The Dark shape that had caught his eye was the one from his nightmare. /Why can I not remember more of this dream?! I need Quearos but he seems to be under some evil enchantment. He is the only one who can save us. This much I know. These creatures have something to do with him. He did not bring them, but he can rid us of them. The Dark Man wants him and he must fight him and win...or all is lost./ Alarond then flipped around to go and find out where Ildamar had taken Quaeros and Laurenth, and to wait... MagicHutchHeader From: rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI][Storm] It gets worse Message-ID: <1993Apr6.134548.6732@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 6 Apr 93 13:45:48 CDT Kyar located Aleric, and began to fight his way to the other warrior. He climbed over the rail and jumped back over to the companion's ship. He was hard pressed to make any headway, when suddenly he was back to back with Aleric and Darkin. The three fought brilliantly, shoving the wraiths over the railing of the ship into the rough seas, but they were badly outnumbered. "We must get to Segoi!!" Kyar shouted. "He knows something of what we face!!!" Now even more creatures were climbing over the rail to attack. Some of these were different than before-- They had clear skin, through which all of their innards could be seen. They carried black greatswords, and wore black crowns. Several of the sailors were hacked apart before the trio could lock blades with this new enemy. The new attackers were working their way towards the helm... MagicHutchHeader From: zweldron@ruhets.rutgers.edu (Matthew Charlap) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [TW] [Storm] The Quest Continues? Message-ID: Date: 6 Apr 93 20:28:03 GMT References: <1993Apr5.094137.6708@wkuvx1.bitnet> <1993Apr6.103628.6730@wkuvx1.bitnet> fannicm@wkuvx1.bitnet (Master Hawk) writes: > "I know little of storms and such, having lived most of my life below >the ground, but I believe that we should leave as soon as possible. We >have already been delayed once...and the sooner I get there, the sooner I >can exact my revenge on those who would dare to attack me and those under >my protection." "I agree, Moria. We should start out again soon. Just one thing- we are all in each-other's protection, don't get caught up in revenge or you may cloud your own judgement. The others knew the risks involved- going against an unknown foe means anything can happen- so while it is good that you feel remorse, as do I, do not let it weigh you down, we will need to be at our best out there." Ixy turns to Amachiak, "It is your call. You know the swamps better than the rest of us. When do we go?" -- --Matthew Charlap ------------------------------------------------------------- zweldron@ruhets.rutgers.edu zweldron@dorm.rutgers.edu What are you looking at!? You're looking at my .sig! Well I'm working on it! MagicHutchHeader From: foleye@xanth.CS.ORST.EDU (Stilt Man) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] The price of a Shroud Date: 4 Apr 1993 10:06:12 GMT Message-ID: <1pmbukINNb86@flop.ENGR.ORST.EDU> [Kryalla, to clarify things up without kludging up the story, is still in the common room of the inn talking with nameless NPC listeners; she has just finished telling a story of Arcania Dorval's origins . . .] The youth stared at the Shrouded One in wonderment. "Surely the Dark One must hold some sort of grudge against you. Have you never had an assassin attempt your life for the grief you give your enemy?" Kryalla's eyes narrow for a second in suspicion. However, the youth's question is told with an innocent face. Her ebon eyes bore deeply into his visage, studying him with silent powers of precognition, for nothing can be allowed to stand in variables. However, the youth has no evil intent, and again Kryalla relaxes. What harm can possibly become of the answer to the question? The Dark One already knows of at least some of this. "In truth," Kryalla begins slowly in her soft voice, "once the Dark One did place a price on my head. It was no small sum, not in anyone's hallucinations. A giant ruby the size of the larger segment of a man's thumb, worth a small fortune, was offered for the bringing of my head to a selected spot in the Empire of Thyaris." "A price that still is open, as you are still here sharing the tale," said the youth. "Not so. An interesting story it was . . ." -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The wind blew hard on this day, and almost the old woman who strode along the rode to the city of Karishem considered turning back, awaiting another day to give over her prize. Her gray eyes watered with the harshness of the dust carried in the air, her equally gray hair was tattered and thinning. Few teeth were left in her mouth, but what she had was sufficient. The sack she bore over her right shoulder held a fortune's worth in it . . . if only it was delievered to the right people. The old woman drew her brown cloak around her shoulders, tightly wrapping it to try to hold out the autumn's cold. For all the trouble this took, it almost was not worth it. A crunch of a boot on fallen leaves sounded, a curse. The woman froze, one hand moving to her belt. She seemed frail in appearance, but her arms were still strong enough for what she must needs do now. The voice sounded behind her. "Stand to, old hag!" The quaver in the sound told of similar discomfort in the wind. But enough confidence to perform the robbery he intended. No one walked these roads, for Karishem had been on an island off the mainland ever since Arcania had unleashed the Cataclysm upon Turadni. This road once led from Karishem to the other cities of the Duchy of Turgay; now, it lead into empty waters. It had fallen into misuse as a lair for many whose pasts would not withstand scrutiny by the elements of the law. Such a man now accosted her now. "Stand and turn, and drop the sack, that I may see what you have there! Be it salt? You are foolish to carry such through these parts." "Have you any idea the autumns I have seen such as this," the woman began, her hand drawing the knife from her belt, "while practicing the trade . . ." she spun, and the man's eyes crossed as if to examine the hilt that suddenly protruded from betwixt them, " . . . of assassin?" The man fell. Her ears were still sharp enough to have correctly guessed that he was alone. Her reflexes were slowed, as age stole the vitality of all, but still she was deadly enough to carry out her lethal tasks. But now, she needed such work no longer, for riches beyond most mortals' dreams were close within her grasp. The highwayman never knew what a treasure he had come so close to claiming. So close and yet so far. After the delivery . . . ease would be hers. The woman retrieved the knife from the man's cranium, dried it on the sack she carried. The cargo she carried would not be damaged; it had sufficient gore about it anyhow. Her destination was not much farther; the meeting place was along this road but three leagues from the city. In fact, the hill in question was within her sight even now. She climbed it, agonizingly, wondering why she put up with this kind of thing. As soon as the question was asked within her mind, it was answered. The well. She set the bag down on the dry grass, and pulled on the rope that descended within the deep, dank shaft. It was light; she wondered what might be on the end. Sure enough, no bucket hung from it. But she had not pulled it up for water. The sound of wings beating drew her attention, and stated her efforts to be successful. The well was merely a summoning beacon; none who knew not of its purpose would know the use of pulling the rope up; all knew the well was dry and useless for water gathering. The daemon approaching her was huge, twice the height of a stout man. Bright red skin covered it, muscles tickly corded beneath. An impossibly long mandible gaped open from its skull, around which the flesh was drawn taut, such that no feature of its bone remained unrevealed. Whitish-yellow pinpoints of light sunken deep within dark, empty sockets regarded her, and short, curved horns rose from the top of its head. Pointy ears stood out, and long reddish-brown fur covered its shins, leaving only gnarled, clawed toes in triplicate to show. It had twice as many fingers, also clawed, on arms as thick as her waist, and she was no thin dandy. No trace of anything beneath its skin save muscle showed, and it looked quite capable of rending her neatly in two with a shrug. No mere knife would avail her against such, for this was a Balroq (note the "q"), the sheerest representation of brutality Arcania's daemonic creations could muster. The might of the Balroqs was such that their prime responsibility during peacetime was to keep the dragons of the mountains ringing the heart of Thyaris cowed into submission. Power they possessed enough to do so. Strangely, the woman showed no fear, as the creature landed before her. "I have brought her," said the woman. "Dost thou truly?" said the daemon, sarcastically. "Let us see her . . . many have bethought to deceive us with large stones instead of what we truly seek." The woman opened the sack, and drew out the head by its long ebon hair. The sable eyes were widened in an expression of surprise and shock, as her death was brought suddenly to her. Clearly, the assassin had done her work well. The daemon nodded in approval. "The head of the Shrouded One. The master will be pleased." "As will I, when you give me the reward," said the woman, holding the head away from the daemon's grasp as though she might actually defy the creature. "Courage thou possess, in plenty, it is truth. Methinks I find respect for thee, woman," said the daemon, as a fiery whisp of light formed around its hand. For a moment the woman thought it meant to betray her, to kill her and simply claim its prize. "Fear not," said the Balroq, reading her doubt. "The Dark One always fulfills her promises." The fire died out, and the prized ruby, worth a king's crown, appeared in its hand. He offered the ruby with one hand, and she placed the head in the other. She palmed the priceless gem and made it disappear into a pouch ere the daemon had even begun to take flight. Bearing its burden, the creature rose into the air, fading in form into mist as it floated away. The moment the creature had gone, the woman threw back her head and laughed hysterically. Her hair, her eyes, her cloak, all darkened in hue as she revelled in her mirth, her frame slendering out and straightening, muscles becoming firmer instead of hidden within folds of aging skin. The knife at her side became a long katana blade, as the form of the woman became that of the very intended victim of this entire scheme: Kryalla Simuel, the Shrouded One. "For all the vaunted power of the Balroqs, their stupidity remains unutterable," she said when she finally had enough breath betwixt giggles to form coherent speech. The daemon had spoken of deception with large stones; in truth, its fear had been nothing short of prophecy, for now that her illusion covering herself was bared, the "head" would again be a rock, and the moss by which the daemon held it in its belief that it was hair would tear in no great time. And by then . . . Kryalla was gone from the spot. To the west, a raven spread its wings in flight, cawing in glee as it began to pass over the sea. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= ". . . indeed, a reward was once offered for my head by Arcania Dorval, and was in fact collected, by the very one whom it was intended to engineer the demise of." The youth, too, had difficulty not laughing his very head off. +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ + Kryalla Simuel the Shrouded One + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ + foleye@xanth.cs.orst.edu + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI][Storm] Aleric hears Kyar Message-ID: <1993Apr6.163140.4955@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 6 Apr 93 16:31:40 -0400 The wraiths were still coming at them when Kyar, seeing an opportunity, leaped across the gap between the ships. Aleric and Darkin continued to beat back the deathless beings that assaulted them. Shortly after Kyar left them, Aleric felt him touch his mind. He turned and glanced at the other ship. Kyar stood on the deck, beckoning. Aleric listened momentarily to inward instructions, then whirled around and placed one boot on the rail of the Rhymand. With a convulsive thrust, he sprang away from the rail and allowed himself to fall between the ships. On the way down, he caught a rope, wincing as the rough fibers rubbed the burns in his left hand cruelly. He swung himself in an upward arc and landed on the deck of the death ship. Aleric looked at Kyar and nodded. "Okay, I'm here. Now what did you have in mind?" Aleric asked, glancing warily at the tall black robed figure standing on the upper deck half a ship away. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac559@Freenet.carleton.ca (Ian Clysdale) Subject: [JOI] [Storm] Taking a New Tack... Message-ID: <1993Apr6.222732.9766@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Tue, 6 Apr 1993 22:27:32 GMT Elanon, beating back the wraiths with a black runed sword, suddenly cried out, with some sort of bizarre thought. All of a sudden, he ran to the side of the boat, and jumped off, diving deep down into the depths of the rolling sea. On his way to the water, he cried out "Fear not for me; I know where I am going!" -Elanon of Ullswater- ADMIN: Yes, I do know what I am doing; No I am not possessed. I just want to see what Aleric and Kyar do; and to think about what I want to happen in this. However, for those who want to know; I am trying to get into the ship from near the cargo hold; by cutting a whole in the bottom; and then trying to sink it. -- Ian Clysdale | "Honour thy word, Disciple of Great Cat | honour thy friends. Seer of the Stairwell | Honour thine self, ac559@freenet.carleton.ca | and honour revenge!" MagicHutchHeader From: alden@coos.dartmouth.edu (Laurie F. Alden) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [Mopper] Marux gets everything mopped up. Message-ID: Date: 6 Apr 93 20:51:17 GMT References: <1993Apr3.115836.7712@alf.uib.no> In <1993Apr3.115836.7712@alf.uib.no> magnus@brisk.ii.uib.no (Magnus Y Alvestad) writes: >Marux Ariendel emerges from his shadow to mop up the place. In his >hands, you glimpse the famed Ariendel mop as it mops with lighting >speed. Two minutes, and the floor is shining. Serene smiles - she is in for a half-day, and pleased indeed to see the floor once again in its spotless condition, thanks to the efforts of Mopper Marux. A basket of salty potato bits and bowl of stew are brought to him. Mista gurgles at the mop and reaches to grasp its well-worn fringes... -- lfa@dartmouth.edu |I guess that's why Chief of Design - JourneyGarb |they call this the blues... Special Education - Norwich, VT |Time on my hands Instructor - University System of NH |could be time spent with you MagicHutchHeader From: flinx@stein.u.washington.edu (Brian Gray) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Raoh] Entering battle. Date: 6 Apr 1993 22:57:06 GMT Message-ID: <1pt1s2INNov9@shelley.u.washington.edu> Everybody is surprised by the sudden flow, albeit brief, of words from the mute, who has said little throughout the trek. Still perplexed, the team draws closer around the telepath, wondering just how he is going to pull this off. Iniside his mind's eye, Pantora expands his view to encompass the team, so taht he is slooking down upon them from above. To the outside, he is concentrating sternly, but he says nothing. From his aural viewpoint, Pantora works to dim the auras of all those around him. His own goees first, as he has had the most practice on aking himself unseen, but, eventually, the others dim as well. He knows this does not harm them--he has tried this before, once... Soon enough, the images of his teammates are reduced to mere dull flickeers of their former brightness. His brow furrowed, he knows this will be a tight strain on his resources, but hopefully he should pull through. The team moves easily, having spent the past days learning to move at a suitable pace for all. Ahead, as they approach a gate to the city, a squadron of mounted guards come out of the city. Quelling the worries of the others with a slight , Pantora continues on. Without pausing, the guards ride directly towards the team, and then strangely, splits in two, passing around the small group, not seeing anything. MagicHutchHeader From: fannicm@wkuvx1.bitnet (Master Hawk) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [TW] [Storm] The Quest Continues? Message-ID: <1993Apr6.200207.6742@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 6 Apr 93 20:02:07 CDT References: In article , zweldron@ruhets.rutgers.edu (Matthew Charlap) writes: > "I agree, Moria. We should start out again soon. Just one thing- we are > all in each-other's protection, don't get caught up in revenge or you > may cloud your own judgement. The others knew the risks involved- going > against an unknown foe means anything can happen- so while it is good that > you feel remorse, as do I, do not let it weigh you down, we will need to > be at our best out there." Just for a moment after this, Moria's hand clenched into a fist and her eyes narrowed, as if she were angry, but that moment passed quickly, and her shoulders fell, her hand relaxing. "As you wish, Ixy." There was confusion lingering in her voice, but Ixy, caught up in his preparations, was already turning away and did not catch it. > Ixy turns to Amachiak, "It is your call. You know > the swamps better than the rest of us. When do we go?" -=-=-=-=- _ _ _ _ , ' ) ) ) _/_ ' ) / / / / / __. _ / _ __ /--/ __. , , , /_ / ' (_(_/|_/_)_<__ Date: Wed, 7 Apr 1993 04:01:32 GMT Ildamar whirled, bringing his sword around in a tight circle and neatly decapitating one of the mysterious undead creatures. To his continued dismay, the creature continued to claw madly at him, flailing wildly as its disembodied head snapped at his feet. The tall Irda kicked the annoying cranium, and was momentarily heartened as the screeching head flew over the railing and plopped loudly into the frothing waters below. He struck the torso of the creature with the flat of his blade, and with repeated blows, forced the wraith to the side of the ship, and thence over the restraing barrier. He glanced around to see how the others were faring. Kyar was nowhere to be seen, and Quaeros was rapidly dismantling those wraiths foolish enough to attack him with what looked to be magic. His eyes set upon Elanon, who was standing lightly on the railing, just before bellowing loudly and jumping over the side. He made a loud splash as he struck the water forcefully, and swore just before turning feet up and diving downwards. By Paladine, the old fellow must be out of his mind! thought Ildamar as he ran to the edge and peered down at the spot where Elanon had disappeared. He needed rescuing again. So what else was new. Ildamar sheathed his weapons and took a deep breath. He climbed up on the lurching rail and executed a graceful swan dive, striking the water with nary a ripple. Under water, he concentrated on altering his form. The outlines of the ranger's body blurred, and took a more streamlined form. His skin turned a deep grey, and his clothing seemed to melt into his hide. He swam to the surface and exhaled forcefully through the newly formed blowhole on top of his head, then headed down, away for the surface. Listening carefully, he detected a loud thumping sound, seeming to emanate from outside the attacking ship, close to the stern. Ildamar let out a high pitched squeal, far above the hearing range of humanoid life. Listening carefully to the echoes, he "saw" a man sized form, about 10 metres away, but almost invisible in the cloudy water. He seemed to be attacking the ship! Swimming nearer, Ildamar could see that the form was, in fact, Elanon, who was attempting to burrow his way through the hull of the vessel. Seeing no other recourse, Ildamar nudged Elanon away from the hull, then pulled back to about 20 metres, and charged at the now-damaged hull. Just before hitting, he turned slightly, and struck the vessel soundly with his side. There was a loud crack, and thin fractures started to appear in the rotted wood of the hull. Elanon started to attack the wood once more, and shortly had opened a large crack in the wall. The current of the water rushing into the hull of the ghost ship was now quite strong, and was dislodging fragments of wood as it filled the empty space. Suddenly, claws latched on to the jagged edge, from inside the vessel! Large chunks of wood were pulled loose, and soon the forms of several more undead warriors became visible, struggling to stand upright against the force of the water. They appeared to have small fins on their arms and legs, and were treading water easily, waiting for the bulkhead to fill. Ildamar and Elanon looked at each other, and headed for the surface. [Admin: Can we say "lacedon"?!?!] -- -- }{}{ When I was a little boy, I had but little Wit, Darryl Farr (}{) 'Tis a long time ago, And I have no more yet; The Grey Man }{}{ Nor ever, ever shall, Until that I die, ac169@freenet.carleton.ca (}{) For the longer I live, The more Fool am I. MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Storm] [Jiri] [AU] The Storm Continues Date: Wed, 07 Apr 93 00:06:47 CDT Message-ID: <16BA9197.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: [Storm] [Jiri] [AU] Andrea Jiriku Kyhra Sheryl unicorn ~Date: Tue, 6 Apr 1993 23:48:03 -0400 ~From: Kalhad the Blackk To: ~Subject: [Storm][Jiri][Au]:The Storm Builds... In article <16BA712ED5.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Chris > "Pile those sandbags!" the supervisor bawled out over the >thunder and rising wind. "The storm's almost here--we don't have >much time!" > Obediently, Kyhra put his back into it. The elevated level >of the city made the seawall four feet high here, though the sea >itself was about thirty feet below it on the other side. During >normal times, anyway. Right now, the wind was whipping it into a >violent frenzy and it was lapping in, breaking against the wall >about halfway up it and sometimes slopping over the side. > Kyhra lifted sandbag after sandbag, piling them atop the >seawall with other workers. It soon became apparent that he was >the most capable worker there, for his mighty thews could lift >the bags of sand like humans lifted sacks of flour. > The storm crept closer and closer... > > < Lightning strikes start fires in the dockside > warehouses, and other buildings are pummelled by hail > or torn apart by the wind. Many shanties in the Low > City collapse, and heavy waves sweep over the dockside > areas. However, the sandbag barriers continue to hold > back the water from the other areas of the city--though > for how long is anybody's guess.>> > Kyhra swore as he wiped the water and wet fur from his eyes once more. Without pausing even for breath he took up another sand bag, then another as soon as the first was piled. The wall had already broke in many spots, and the men piling the sandbags had already been ordered to withdraw. Some did, but not he. The Kalnarian now worked at the spot that had fallen several times, despite constant attention. Most of the workers had abandonned it already, but six others stayed to help the catman. They piled bag after bag, and every time their part of the wall broke, they began a new, not seeming to notice how futile their task was. Kyhra had lost count of the number of bags he had piled long ago, as well as the number of hours he had been piling them. Kyhra looked up briefly to see how the rest of the workers were doing, then let out a horrible oath upon seeing that besides he and his six fellows, there were very few men left at the wall. Further down, there was a larger knot of men who also still worked. A merchant dumped flour out his sacks and filled them wil sand, watching his profits wash away in the rain without a second thought. It was there that the mage with the stone had fused the falling sand earlier, Kyhra recollected. Suddenly, his attention was snapped back to the task at hand when a huge crash split the storms noisy air. The wall of sandbags in front of him began to bulge, then burst inwards as a wave hit it with a furious force. The unnamed man ahead of him yelled. The cry was cut short as the water of the retreating wave gathered him in it's wake and pulled him under. Venting a battle cry of his home people, Kyhra dove towards the wall and the man that even now was being pulled over it. "Vrie-ahh! To me! To me!" Kyhra's massive paws cut through the retreating water and latched onto the man's collar an impossible instant after he had begun his leap. It would not be the only time that the feline's speed would save another that day. Growling in fury and pain, the Kalnarian began to heave the choking man back up over the breach in the sand bags. He was weary beyond measure, but he would not give in. Almost there... Fear showed in Kyhra's eyes for the first time that day as he saw the wave coming back for a second try at the victim that it had lost. Kyhra knew that it would take two in return for it's spoiled first attempt. Still he didn't give up, as he looked death in the eye and gave a last mighty pull. He wasn't going to make it, he knew, but he would not drop another into the pits of hell to save his own skin... {meanwhile, back at the ranch... er, Inn...} > "Let's see..." she muttered. "Is it 'Tuar Nigma Sharlocht,' >or 'Tuar Naga Sherlicht'? It's hard to tell in this light..." > Then Andrea saw Sheryl look at something behind her, and she >quickly shut the book and put it away in her knapsack. It was >Jiri. "Greetings," she said. > He nodded in return, going around behind the bar and >appropriating some drink in much the same fashion as Andrea had, >then came over to her table. "Mind if I sit down?" > "Go right ahead," Andrea said, taking a long pull at the >bottle. She eyed the Wolfmage curiously as he took his seat. >"So, you think you can handle the storm's casualties?" > He shrugged. "I hope so. I can, of course, use all the >help I can get." He looked over at Sheryl, who was currently >sniffing at the crack in the door. "She's right..." he mused. > "What?" Andrea asked. > "Sheryl knows it too," Jiri said. "This is no ordinary >storm." > "What do you mean?" Andrea asked. > "It's all--WRONG. I don't know if I can explain it to a >human, but all natural weather has a certain scent, a certain >FEEL. This storm has an entirely DIFFERENT feel--a malign >sensation, like something dead. There is evil at work here, I am >sure of it." > Andrea shrugged. "Hopefully it will pass." > Jiri nodded. "Oh, it will pass all right," he said. "I >just hope that Generica will still be here after it does." >-- >Chris Meadows || "The Zetons look like beautiful >CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || women, but their tissues are made >CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || of paper, so they burn, like paper." >CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || --Captain Harlock, Ziv's lame-o dub. >. >. Andrea look sharply at Jiriku, then her eyes relaxed a little and she shiverred. "You could at least be a little more optimistic, Jiriku." "I _am_ being optimistic Andrea- and honest. I'm not sure what you think of this storm, but frankly, it scares me. I didn't have the chance to tell you earlier what it was that I saw in the Dreamlands. It was terrible. I should have been walking the 'Paths for another two days or so, but shortly after I arrived I felt a malevolence in the 'Forest. I came across a black and crooked path, and I followed it. Long did I walk through a diseased and twisted forest ere coming to the sea." Jiriku paused to take a pull from his ale bottle while trying to decide how to explain a Dream to a mortal. "The sea was... well, WRONG. It was black, and pulsating. I can only describe the sights to you that a mortal would see, but it wasn't just what I saw. As I said before about the storm, the scent was wrong, and the _feel_. I felt a terrible foreboding as the black sea heaved and moaned. It was almost like a giant black slug, and something rose out of the sea in the distance. It reeked of death, and it was as if the sea _had_ become a beast, though much more evil and powerful than any mere slug, no matter what the size. Now you must know why I ran back into the 'Forest and broke out of my Sleep. The Dreams told me what was coming- death upon a black sea, in the wake of a storm, and I had to come warn Kyhra. And you, and the rest of Generica." The Wolfmage fell silent and took another long drink. Andrea just stared at him, fear beginning to creep into her own face now. She shook her head and tried to clear the thoughts from her head, but the image of a black beast rising from the water- of the water- would not leave her. The wind howled and distant crashes could be heard- well some of them actually weren't distant enough for Andrea's liking. The two sat there for some time in silence, drinking their ale. "Actually Andrea, it's 'Tuar Naga Sharlocht, if I remember correctly. What is that that you were reading anyways? I don't mean to pry, but I did recognize you're mumblings, and can't place them exactly. Are you trying to learn a bit of simple magic?" The Wolfmage raised his eyebrows as he studied Andrea's reaction. "No, I'm NOT trying to learn magic, not that it's any of your business." Her face had turned wuite red, but Jiri thought it was more from embarassment than anger. Anyways, it was obvious that she didn't want to talk about it. He shrugged then quietly added "I could help you out if you wanted. Once this is over..." Andrea didn't seem to hear him, but he thought she did. Suddenly the elf smiled and a brighter look crossed his face as he change the subject. "Andrea, this waiting is awful, and I'm worrying too much about Kyhra. I think maybe a song might be of help. It would ease the tensions all around, and I think I saw Listener head down below with the others. Would you care to join us for a tune?" Andrea just grunted as she finished her ale, but Sheryl suddenly appeared from nowhere, as did Carson, both with gleaming excited eyes. Jiriku produced a small silver lute almost from nowhere and tuned it as he turned and walked towards the cellar entrance humming a cheery tune, the unicorn and the cat happily following him. Andrea shrugged and set the empty bottle down, then got up to follow as well. [NOTE] This was posted for the author of the [Jiri] thread. His address is at the top of the article. As always, if you want your characters to bump into our characters, all you gotta do is ask! -- Chris Meadows || NOTE: I will be at home for Easter CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || from Wednesday April 7 evening to CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || Monday April 12 morning. Sorry for CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || any inconvenience this may cause... MagicHutchHeader From: corleyj@helium.gas.uug.arizona.edu (Jason D Corley ) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Storm] Back to Generica [new][sorta] Message-ID: <1993Apr3.052851.5784@organpipe.uug.arizona.edu> Date: 3 Apr 93 05:28:51 GMT The storm dumped its load of rain like a bucket out of a washer- woman's window. It was a hard, blattering rain, where you knew you were going to get soaked the moment you stepped in it. The streets were dark, but there was nobody out tonight. No thieves to speak of. Not where I was. Not where I was going. My boots sloshed and slurped in the runny mud. It had been a long time since I felt that mud under my feet. Or at least it seemed like a long time. Every once in a while, torchlight or lamplight would come streaming through a window and make puddles in the puddles in the street. I would hear laughter, but I didn't go inside. I was going to work. I was going _back_ to work. The door was open. The front room was dark, and in the dim glow, the shadows looked blue as clean steel. I closed the door. MagicHutchHeader [ADMIN: That's right, Jake Pitzar, ace reporter is back in town. The Generican Examiner is starting up as a Dragon's Inn staple once again. As some of you may remember, the Examiner can be had on any street corner every morning, and twice a day on weekends for one silver piece. Also, it contains advertisements and articles. Any of such ads or articles should be submitted to corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu, though you might want to remember that the editorial staff at the Examiner (Old Man Heartwell and whoever he shanghais into doing it) is more interested in selling papers than in providing the truth. The more lucrative the headline, the bigger it gets.] -- "Meetings are an addictive, highly self-indulgent activity that corporations and other organizations habitually engage in only because they cannot actually masturbate."-----------------------------------Dave Barry Jason "corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu" Corley is Wanted for Impersonating a Student MagicHutchHeader From: jclifford@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (jen/cliffy :)) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] [Stormish] Going down... Message-ID: <1993Apr7.010215.4971@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 7 Apr 93 01:02:15 -0400 [ADMIN] No one else has said--is the storm continuing?? I don't think it could be turned off just like that, so it's still raging all around...yes?? "What happened?? Where am I?? Wh--" Laurenth regained conciousness to see Quaeros engulfed in a ball of light/energy [can't quite remember]. He sat down and had started to play his flute when Darkin burst through the door and shrieked: "WE'RE BEING ATTACKED!!" and ran back upstairs. Dazedly, Laurenth followed Quaeros up on deck. *****************other posts happen...*************************************** Since Elanon had apparently decided to voluntarily drown himself, Kyar and Aleric were no where to be seen, Darkin was busy making more of the enemy, and Segoi was trying to hold the ship steady, Laurenth decided that it was about time to do something constructive. Problem was, she couldn't think of a damn thing. Quaeros was still reeling from the bolt of light/energy, and Alarond was engaged in being sick over the opposite side of the ship. So, Laurenth told herself, think quicker!! She walked to the side of the ship and peered cautiously over the edge. A good ten feet or so separated the ships. Fire could cross that, couldn't it?? Anything else would harm us as well--tornado (we've got enough weather anyway), ice wouldn't work...maybe destroy?? She walked back, past Quaeros, near where Alarond was and cleared her mind. She clutched her amulet, closed her eyes, and started to concentrate... when a cry arose from the crewmen and company. "Their ship is going down!"... [ADMIN] Just a question--wouldn't our ship go down with it????? jen/cliffy ;) "Faudrait que j'devienne plus sage, Que j'sois plus raisonnable a mon age J'sais bien, j'sais bien, j'sais bien. Je commence demain." --J.-J. Goldman MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: [JOI][Storm] They begin to bother me... Message-ID: <1993Apr7.133340.3941@ultb.isc.rit.edu> Date: Wed, 7 Apr 1993 13:33:40 GMT At the sight of the boarding undead, and the struggle of him comrades Segoi was torn with indescision. He could not leave the wheel else the ship would founder, and if he didn't the rest of the ships crew and the party members would be cut to pieces by the hord of ...things... The wheel growned under his pull, but thanks to the strengthening of Kyar it held, as he turned the prow towards the open sea away from the black ship seeking to break the lines that held her. This however was to little avail, the lines help fast and more were thrown. Aleric had lept over to the other ship where he joined Kyar, Darkin was wildly fighting off two of the bladed halfmen. Where were Laurnth and Quaeros? At least Quaeros was a true cleric and could in some way effect these foul beings. Segoi gritted his teeth and kicked violently at a wraith who got too close for comfort. He sent it sailing out over the stern of the ship to the clashing waves below. This was getting intolerable, the feeling of helplessness! 'By the gods this is not how I would wish it to end!' thought Segoi. Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: nealk@maths.tcd.ie (Neal Kidson) Subject: [Raoh] The Rescuers Message-ID: <1993Apr7.143300.20675@maths.tcd.ie> Date: Wed, 7 Apr 1993 14:33:00 GMT [I hope this was worth waiting for] > Garol tucked the amulet underneath his shirt and thanked the > sorceress. Then he and Firecat silently made there way to the city. Garol and Firecat crouched at the foot of the wall surrounding Kassandra. As luck would have it, the guard on the wall had been changed a few moments before they arrived. Firecat scanned the wall, searching for other guards. Seeing none he nodded his head. Garol swung a light line with a weight attatched to the end of it a few times. Then he sent it snaking up towards the guard standing directly above him. The line wrapped itself around the surprised guards neck a few times and with a sudden jerk from Garol the guard was pulled from the wall to land with a CLUMMPH on the dense grass at the foot of the wall. Garol retrieved his line and hid the corpse as Firecat cast a small grappling hook onto the top of the wall. A few sconds later they were both on top of the wall and inside Kassandra. Still no guards had seen them. Now the hard part began. As they moved through the streets, they saw no sign of anyone except, occasionally, a squad of Raohs crimson clad minions. The object of their mission the Dungeon Tower, was constantly visible towards the rear of the city. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Tower loomed above them both as Garol slid on a peculiar pair of leather bracers with metal claws in the palm. "Shuko.", whispered Garol, catching the curious look in Firecats eyes. Garol braced himself at the foot of the tower and leapt upward, getting a grip on the tower with the shuko and his feet. Quickly and stealthily, Garol scaled the tower to the sixth storey cell of Ailee and Falco. Looking in he saw that Falco was asleep and Ailee awake. "Ailee,", breathed Garol, "Ailee." Ailee turned to face the barred window of the cell. Her eyes widened as she saw the black-robed form of Garol outside. "Who-" she started "I'm working with your brother, Ray,", said Garol,quietly, "We're going to get you two out of here. Be ready in a short while." Ailee nodded. Garol then quickly scaled the remaining two floors to the unbarred window they had seen earlier. A quick glance inside showed it to be a storeroom with broken shutters. Garol quickly climbed inside and fixed the rope he had carried up with him to a beam in the roof. He then dropped the rope down to Firecat. Firecat saw the rope come snaking down from above and, checking once more for any guards, he climed up to the storeroom. Firecat pulled the rope in after him and, standing on a chair, untied it from the rafter. Garol opened the door a crack and peered out. The corridor outside was fairly large and well-lit. Garol opened the door silently and the intrepid rescuers emerged from the room. "The stairs are over there." whispered Garol pointing to a turn ahead. The two continued cautiously down the stairs. Two floors down the corridors were not as well maintained. Still they had encountered no guards. They slowely walked around the curve of the Tower until the heard a voices ahead. Firecat peered round the corner. Two guards sat opposite each other, talking, ignoring everything else. Faint moans could be heard coming from behind the row of heavy doors on one side of the Tower. Two throwing-stars appeared in Garols hands, as if from nowhere. Garol crouched and the two stars flashed through the air to embed themselves in the guards necks. One slid sideways to the floor, the other remained in his seat. Firecat grabbed the set of keys from one of the guards and raced toi Ailee and Falco's cell. Garol remained at the end of the corridor, listening for more guards. Hearing none he joined Firecat. Ailee and Falco were both awake and ready. Falco still looked like his spirit had been broken but there was a faint gleam in his eye. "There are forty other prisoners in this tower," said Ailee, aggitated, "You've got to set them free!" Garol and Firecat looked at each other. "We can hardly leave them there." said Garol. Firecat nodded. "How we're going to get forty-odd people out of here...." murmured Firecat. as he headed back towards the cells. "This is going to be fun. Keep everyone here for a few minutes. I'm going to clear the way." said Garol to Ailee and Falco. thought Garol as he started towards the stairs. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The guards hands went to his throat as Garols arm locked in a vice-like grip around his neck. Too late. The guard was quickly dragged to the ground and a few seconds later he was unconscious. Garol twisted his head sharply and heard the vertebrae seperate. thought Garol. Garol scanned the streets outside the Tower entrance through the partly open door. Nothing. He turned and waved to Firecat and the ex-prisoners. Some of them had equiped themselves with weapons from the bodies of the guards Garol and Firecat had left behind. About five or six looked as if they would even be of some use in a fight. Included in this group were Ailee and Falco, who had lost the crushed look he had had in the cell. The rest were either physically unable or wouldn't know what to do with a weapon. Those that wanted to be were also equiped with a mix of whatever armour fitted them. "So far, so good." breathed Firecat as they exited the Tower. "But for how long?" replied Garol, listening to the noise. "The best place for all of you is probably outside the city, what's the quickest way out?" Garol asked Ailee. Ailee quickly outlined a route out and they started off, with as little noise as possible, through the twisting streets. It was as they were turning up ani alleyway close to the centre of the city that the inevitable happened. One of the armed prisoners dropped his sword with a clatter that seemed all the louder for the silence that preceded it. Five guards turned the corner not ten feet away a few seconds later. Cursing under his breath, Garol leapt into action, his katanna and wakizashi making blurred circles as he slashed two of the guards to pieces. Firecat shifted into his blazing tiger form and swiftly disembowled another two. The last guard blew a shrill blast from a whistle before Garols katanna decapitated him. The call was answered quickly with guards pouring out of a building a few hundred feet away. "GO!" yelled Garols at the escapees as he pulled out the amulet Blaze had given him. thought Garol as he squeesed the edges of the amulet as Blaze had shown him. The resultant flare stunned the guards for a moment. In that moment Garol and Firecat were off after the escapees. The guards gave chase a few seconds later. [Anyone know how you spell slowley? :-)] [ADMIN: Could Firecats controller please e-mail me since my mailer won't accept your address] -- Milamber ================================================================================ I know you Believe you understand what you Think I wrote but I am Not Sure that you Realise that what you Read is not what I Meant MagicHutchHeader From: jmondak@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (JACK-SPRAT) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI][Storm] Round and round we go... Message-ID: <1993Apr7.104842.4974@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 7 Apr 93 10:48:41 -0400 After Alarond had regained his composure, he began to notice that the water was swirling violently. As a result of the storm and the worl of Elanon and Ildamar the company had something else to worry about--a whirlpool! "Well that will take care of the wraiths alright--and ourselves as well!" shouted Alarond into the howling of the winds and wraiths. "Laurenth, you're a mage, *do something*! Elanon, Ildamar and the others have taken care of the wraiths, but we have neglected the storm; that is the true evil in this little episode!" Alarond then turned toggo and find Segoi and to tell him what was happening (as if he couldn't seee it himself) and to see if there was something that the mysterious giant could do to get them out of this situation. Jackie Mondak "What a long, strange ride it's been." Muskingum College --The Dead @)---'---,--- MagicHutchHeader From: rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI][Storm] Kyar and Aleric start to sink . . . Message-ID: <1993Apr7.100312.6748@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 7 Apr 93 10:03:12 CDT ADMIN: How things stand-- Kyar and Aleric are now fighting on the deck of the black ship, Segoi is still steering the Rhymand, I'm not sure about Darkin (We have some crossed up posts again), Ildamar and Elanon just punched a big hole in the hull of the black ship, Laurenth is fixing to cast some kind of spell, Alarond is looking for Quaeros, and Quaeros is acting really weird. "We have to get to Segoi!" Kyar shouted. "He knows something of what we face!" Kyar and Aleric had no chance to act however, because the black ship suddenly shuddered and began to list badly, away from the Rhymand. This was bad, since the grapples holding the two ships together were still in place, and the ropes were now drawn very tight. The black robed figure that Aleric had noticed on the foredeck seemed to be laughing at them, but made no sound. "Aleric! We have to cut the ropes, or the Rhymand will break up!" Kyar yelled, then leaped towards the railing, hacking down several of the clear skinned warriors that stood in his path. He managed to hack through one of the ropes grappling the two ships together before the creatures he had cut down got up and began to attack him again. He was then forced to back to the rail and defend against five of the beasts. Their black blades hacked all around him, but he ducked and parried and slipped past them. He manage to cut a second rope, but then was fenced in again. Aleric looked as if he was torn between attacking the black robed figure, or trying to free the Rhymand. . . MagicHutchHeader From: stegehe@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Shargugh: Forest brownie on the town Message-ID: <1993Apr7.104941.6749@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 7 Apr 93 10:49:41 CDT Shargugh the brownie strolled through the sunny woods, admiring the beauty of the summer day. The sunlight filtered through the trees creating a moving pattern on the forest floor. Shargugh sighed, for carefree life was beginning to bore him. He longed to travel the lands, searching for adventures, meeting new and interesting people. A nearby city had recently piqued his interest. He began to wonder what the city would be like. It had many stone and wooden structures, which seemed to serve a variety of purposes. It would be interesting to see what mysteries some of these buildings held. His mind made up, Shargugh headed out of the forest towards the city. As he approached the gates, he noticed a few of the tall humans were carrying large bundles filled with many different items. Noting that one old man was resting by the roadside near his pack, Shargugh seized the opportunity and hopped in. The pack was crowded with several large loaves of bread and a variety of beaded necklaces. Shargugh situated himself as best he could and stuck his head out of the pack to observe his situation. The old man groaned as he hoisted the bundle to his back and headed into town. Shargugh was amazed at the images which met his eyes inside the gates of the city. Humans were milling about a large, open area which was surrounded by tables covered with anything one could ever wish for. Shargugh had never seen so much stuff in one place in his entire life. The old man arrived at an empty table and proceeded to remove his pack and chat with the nearest person, a young buxom blond woman, about how lovely the weather was and whether or not she would like to join him in a nude frolic through the forest. Shargugh, realizing that the old man was quite occupied, hopped from the pack and hid himself underneath an old blanket which happened to be lying under the table. He lay there for a while, trying to decide how the humans would take to a being of his miniscule stature. He soon noticed that the crowd in the marketplace was thinning, people apparently heading home or to inns for a bite of lunch. Shargugh, with his excellent sense of timing, decided that this was the time to make his exit. He quickly slipped out from under the table and made his way through the dark alleys running through the city. Eventually, he spotted a sign: Dragon's Inn. Dragons? That sounded quite exciting. Shargugh crept up to a window and peered inside. His hopes were shut down though, for there were no dragons in here, only a few humans having lunch. Shargugh was about to leave when the sky darkened and rain began to fall. He decided the best thing to do now was seek shelter. He crept up into the eaves and immediately fell asleep. Howard E. Steger STEGEHE@WKUVX1 "De gustibus non disputandem est." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: cmeadows@nyx.cs.du.edu (Chris Meadows) Subject: [AU] [Storm] [HouseStorming] Adventures in Real Estate Message-ID: <1993Apr7.175948.16900@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Wed, 7 Apr 93 17:59:48 GMT ADMIN: This introduces the [HouseStorming] thread, called such for reasons which you will see vrey shortly. This installment takes place the day after the events described in the [Storm] thread. The storm is gone, and the rebuilding has begun. I am continuing to use the [Storm] identifier, because this post is also concerned with some of the storm's aftermath (and suggest that everyone do the same with similar posts). However, by no means should anyone who enjoys the storm take this to mean that they should wrap it up. I'm posting this now because I have to go home for the rest of the week, and so that people will have time to see it and respond. Oh, and whoever is keeping the Dragon's Inn bulletin board up to date, there is a bulletin board posting contained within. If you respond to the bulletin board posting, please email me a copy of the message you leave; I might miss it by accident. Okay, that's it! On with the show! Andrea sat in the Dragon's Inn common room sipping grapefruit juice and working on a Danish. She was watching Sheryl playing with Carson out of the corner of her eye. Carson would run up to her, bat at her leg with his paws, then scamper off again before Sheryl could get him back. As she watched this game of tag, Andrea also saw the busy activity going on in the street outside. Through the open doors, she was able to catch a glimpse of piles of lumber being carried down the street by busy workers. It seemed that the rebuilding process had already begun. One of the workers came in and ordered an ale, and Andrea asked him what was happening. "It's the Temple of Aditi's doin', 'at's wot it is," he said. "Them an' all the others. But they's the ones wot I'm working' fer." "Doing what?" Andrea asked. "Cartin' this 'ere wood, 'at's wot." He jerked a thumb out at the pile of wood sitting outside the door. "Them Buffers, 'ey're rebuildin' 'eir 'ouses, 'ey are. And 'ey let the Temple of Aditi pay for 'eir wood." He looked around and lowered his voice, as though about to reveal a secret. "And I 'eard tell 'at it took a lot to even get 'em to let the temple buy the wood for 'em. You know the Buffers, 'ey don't take charity from anyone." Andrea nodded. "Hey, Rowan--" She tossed him a silver coin. "This man's next drink is on me." She turned to him. "Now, why don't you tell me where the local Temple of Aditi is...?" Fifteen minutes later, Andrea and Sheryl walked down the Arcade of Unforgotten Heroes, toward the Temple of Aditi. Andrea was carrying Carson, who didn't seem to mind. It was a nice sunny day, blue sky, fleecy white clouds overhead--an ironic counterpoint to the previous day's weather. In fact, if not for the debris and rubble strewn everywhere, Andrea would have had a hard time believing that the storm had actually happened. As Andrea walked down the street, avoiding puddles and the remains of various buildings, she thought about what had happened over the last couple of days. It seemed that her life had finally been coming together--she'd made new friends, found someone who could remove Sheryl's curse (though not reverse it), and discovered new opportunities for self-enrichment. It had to be a sign. "I like this place," Andrea decided, and then said it out loud. Sheryl looked at her curiously. "Do you like Generica, Sheryl?" Sheryl tossed her head and whinnied vigorously. "Good," Andrea said. "Y'know, we're going to be living here for awhile, what with getting that curse removed from you and all. I think I might not mind settling down here. You?" Sheryl looked incredulously at Andrea, who got the feeling that if Sheryl could have spoke she'd have said something like, "Are you sure you're feeling all right?!" But after about a second, she tossed her head and whinnied even more vigorously. "Good. Then after we're done at the temple, we'll go on up to Glorshanned Keep and see what the real estate office has to offer. If they don't have anything, I'll check at that furniture store, whatever it's called. I think I can afford a decent home, don't you?" About five minutes later, Andrea and Sheryl were standing in front of the Temple of Aditi, Lady of Hurtful Love. As with the few temples devoted to Aditi that she had seen in other towns, this one was pretty plain, and it had Aditi's symbol, a silken whip, hanging above the door. Andrea sighed, and shuddered. Aditi's doctrine was that all love was hurtful, and thus it seemed that her priestesses went out of their way to hurt themselves through love. They had to give themselves to any man who wanted them, for instance. What a morbid cult. Andrea was truly glad that she'd had the help of two great men, Father Phylum of the faith of Issek and Guildmaster Robinson of the Selactican Thieves' Guild, to keep her from falling victim to her own sadness and coming to feel the same way as those who worshiped Aditi. But Andrea didn't really have anything against the church--they had done many good works in all the towns she'd been in. Even if they were, as some people charged, little more than prostitutes, then at least they were responsible ones--more than could be said for the red light districts in most places she'd been. Andrea knocked on the door, and it was opened by a woman who wore a miniature silken whip as a pendant about her neck. "Ah," Andrea said. "You must be Delmara. May we enter?" Delmara looked from Andrea to Carson to Sheryl, and her eyes widened. "A unicorn," she said. "That's a sight we don't often see around here." Andrea nodded, smiling. "I know." "Oh, yes, of course, come on in," Delmara said. "I mustn't forget my manners." "Thank you." They walked in, Sheryl acting subdued as she always did in a place of worship of any kind, Carson looking around and meowing confusedly. As Delmara and Andrea walked up the aisle, a young, thin girl in the dress of an acolyte came running up the aisle. "Mara, I finished--" Then she caught sight of Sheryl and stopped mid-sentence. "A--a unicorn!" she breathed. "Oh, it's so beautiful." She walked up, slowly, never taking her eyes off of Sheryl. "Oooh, can I touch her?" she asked. Delmara looked at Andrea, who grinned and said, "Sure, why not? Her name's Sheryl." The girl looked just a little older than Sheryl herself had been when the curse had come upon her. Andrea turned to Delmara, still grinning. "Sheryl loves kids, and kids love her. Let's leave them here...this way we can talk in private." "If you say so." Andrea and Delmara walked on up the aisle, leaving the girl kneeling next to the unicorn. "Hi. My name's Aitreni..." she was saying. When Andrea and Delmara were alone, Andrea reached into her backpack and brought out a bag that jingled. She handed it to Delmara, who nearly dropped it--it was heavy! "There's 200 gold coins in there," Andrea said. "I want you to use it to pay for the lumber you bought for the Buffers, and for any other storm reparations that you can do for the Low Towners." Delmara gasped. 200 gold coins was a larger donation than any the church had received in...in...well, in too long a time. Delmara did some quick calculations in her head. This would enable her to pay for all that lumber, plus perhaps enough new shingles to cover half the roofs in the Low City...Then reality caught up with her, and she looked evenly at Andrea. "Why?" she asked. "Let's just say that I'm doing an act of kindness and expect no repayment for it." At Delmara's startled expression, she grinned. "That's it, and I want to hear no more about it." Delmara shrugged. "If that is what you say." She thought it was more likely that Andrea was salving a guilty conscience, but she said nothing. With the matter thus closed, Andrea walked back up to where Aitreni was petting Sheryl. To Andrea's amusement, Sheryl's mane was now completely braided, her tail mostly so. Andrea giggled, causing Aitreni to look up with a start. "Oh, I didn't see you coming, ma'am." "Call me Andrea," Andrea said. She smiled. "What is it about unicorns and young girls, that whenever a young girl sees a unicorn, she has an irresistable compulsion to braid its mane and tail?" "I'm sorry," Aitreni began, "I just--" "No, no, no need to apologize," Andrea said. "I wasn't complaining, just making an observation. As a matter of fact, I kind of like it." Sheryl rolled her eyes in an expression that clearly said, "Oh, puh-LEEEZE," but Andrea ignored her. "Oh." Aitreni went back to her task. Delmarra, who had come to watch, felt her heart lift at seeing the girl actually half-smile. When she was finished, she stood back to admire her handiwork. Sheryl dutifully looked like she enjoyed the whole rigamarole. A few minutes later, they were on their way back up the street (after promising Aitreni that yes, they would come back soon). Sheryl nudged Andrea. It was obvious that she wanted Andrea to undo the braids. "Oh, come on, give me a break," Andrea replied. "I've got this cat to take care of. Besides, I think you look kind of cute that way." Sheryl snorted. After making similar donations at other temples, Andrea and Sheryl walked on up the street toward Glorshanned Keep. It took them a good hour to make the walk (especially with Sheryl stopping every so often to sniff at everything she saw). They walked back up to the arcade of fountains, where they found an unusual spectacle. Dozens of people were lining up at the fountains for water. Apparently their own sources had been wiped out by the hurricane. As she came up closer to the fountains, she saw how brown and muddy the water was. But these people were taking it just the same, because it was apparently all that there was. "Hey, what's going on here?" Andrea asked. One of the people carrying buckets answered her. "We need water...But all that's left is this." "Well, that we can fix," Andrea said. "Here, let Sheryl through." The people parted, albeit somewhat reluctantly, and then a great deal of chattering started as they noticed the horn sticking out from the braids on Sheryl's head. Sheryl advanced to the fountain, inclined her head, and plunged her horn in. There was a sparkling, shimmering disturbance that spread outward along the pool, and then all the mud was mysteriously gone. There was complete and utter silence in that line for the next thirty seconds. Then everyone else started yelling, "Hey, come over here!" "Do this pool next!" "Here! Here!" "Take it easy, there's enough of her to go around..." Andrea said. Fifteen minutes later, all the pools had been purified, and a very grateful crowd now filled their containers with fresh water. Andrea and Sheryl continued on up the street. The Mages' Guild had not been hit too hard by the storm, Andrea noticed. Or if it had, it certainly didn't show it. Across the street from the 'Guild, Andrea noticed, the library had undergone some unforeseen structural alterations. Namely, a large portion of the roof had fallen off. However, there were some people over there, most wearing voluminous, flowing robes, standing around the fallen roof part, raising their arms, and chanting. One man standing on top of the roof waves his arms as if supervising. The piece of the library's roof slowly rose into the air, oriented itself, and slid into place. Andrea could have stayed around to watch the reconstruction for another hour or more, but she knew she had a job to do. She continued on up the hill, toward Glorshanned Keep. When they finally reached the Keep, it took a little doing to find the Office of Public Real Estate--the reception secretary seemed never to have heard of it. But once Andrea flashed some gold around, the secretary suddenly remembered that there was an office that had something to do with real estate on the second floor. The Office of Public Real Estate was a cramped and crowded little place, with scrolls lying everywhere and a little bespectacled man sitting behind the desk with a quill pen. "What can I do for you, madam?" he asked as she entered. He didn't look up at her or Sheryl, he just continued scratching away with that pen. "I would like to look at your houses for sale." At this the man did look up. He noticed Sheryl, and peered over the rims of his spectacles at her. "A horse? We don't allow animals in here, young lady. I'm afraid you'll have to--" "She's no horse," Andrea said. "And if you want to get your hands on any of this..." She dumped a few scrolls of the man's desk and dropped a fistfull of gold coins onto it "then she stays." The man blinked twice at the money on his desk. "Very well, I'll make an exception. What can I do for you?" "I want to buy a house." The clerk pawed through all the scrolls on top of his desk, came up with one in particular, and passed it over. Andrea sat down and started to read, while Carson batted at a loose scroll on the floor and Sheryl sniffed curiously at the rug. The minimum price for all the houses seemed to be about 5,000 gold pieces, and the average size about 1500 square feet. Obviously overpriced for undersize. Andrea had read over the entire list twice, and still she almost missed it. But then she noticed the last entry on the list, in small print. It was a 150,000 square foot home, for only 5,000 gold! "Hey." She called the clerk's attention to the last entry on the list. "What's this?" He took one look and said, "Oh, you don't want THAT...it's been unoccupied for several years and is starting to show its age." "It can be fixed. But that still wouldn't make it this cheap. By all rights this ought to be at least a hundred times this much. What's the catch?" Andrea asked, fixing him with her steady gaze. "It...er, well, it's a Jonah." "A Jonah?" Andrea was familiar with the term, it came from the holy book of some obscure religion. "Why?" "Well, er, the house was built about, um..." He opened a drawer and pulled out an officious-looking scroll. "...twenty years ago, by Shalovere Darian, a, man of, ahem, less-than-savory means..." Andrea resisted the temptation to grab the clerk by the neck and shake the facts out of him. "Give it to me straight. Was he a thief, or was he not?" "Uh, ahem, yes he was..." "Ah...this is getting good." Andrea sat down, and now Sheryl was paying attention too. "Pray continue." "He, ahem, designed certain, um, safeguards into the building--" "Traps," Andrea corrected him. "This gets better and better." "Er, um, traps, yes," the harried clerk went on, "and retreated into it. From what I understand, he had tired of, um, the, how-you-say--" "Guild politics?" Andrea suggested. "Yes, that's it," the clerk says. "He, uh, ahem, wanted to get away from it all. To return to the subject at hand, once it was built he destroyed the blueprints and um, made sure the architects and contractors were, ahem, indisposed." Andrea nodded. That was the problem she would have had with building her own house; she couldn't kill innocent people yet she didn't want the plans or know-how to break into it remaining around either. "Good, good. Go on." "The house had, ahem, magical and nonmagical defenses. The only people who knew how to, ah, work them were Shalovere Darian and his manservant, Jarl. And, er, ever since Darian was killed by an assassin, and Jarl soon after, um eh, heh heh--" "Nobody's been able to get into the house," Andrea finished. "This is GREAT!" she said to herself. "I hadn't expected to find a deal this good. With my first five grand I can buy the house, and with the rest I can hire some people to help me clean it out. This is GREAT!" "Ah, ma'am, I would not recommend that you buy this house. It has killed close to twenty people who tried to take possession of it already..." "I'll be the judge of that," Andrea said. "And I'm sure I'm better at finding traps than they were. Hand over the papers." She began counting out platinum coins--more coins than should actually have fit into that small a satchel! "I'll sign them right here and now." The clerk seemed to be developing a nervous tic in the right side of his face. "I really don't think that's wise--this house by all rights shouldn't even be on the list any more. It--" "The papers, you obsequious toady," Andrea said, her patience almost at an end. "Here's your 5000 gold." The man sighed. "I tried to warn you. All right. In addition to the title form, I'll need you to sign these two disclaimers." "And what are they?" Andrea asked, looking them over. The man pointed. "This one is a statement that you cannot get your money back--this sale is final. This other one absolves our firm of all liabilities resulting from accidental deaths involved with this house." Andrea smirked. "Typical." She paused just long enough to read the fine print, then signed. Fifteen minutes later she and Sheryl walked out of there, with the deed firmly in hand. The clerk watched them go, then scribbled a brief note to his supervisor. It went, "Sold the Jonah again. Expect it back within a week or so." They'd made more money off that one house so far... Andrea checked the position of the sun. By that, she and Sheryl had just enough time to rent a horse and cart to go out to the house and see what they could see. It might be foolish, but then, it was now her house, she felt she at least ought to be able to inspect it. The house had the proportions of a mansion. It was situated atop Merchant's Hill, but in a location far removed from most of the other houses. Andrea took the time to appreciate the irony of a thief's home on Merchant's Hill, took a good look. It was a rather large home. Definitely large enough to live in comfort in, perhaps large enough for two or three or even four. It did look to be a bit out of repair, especially since the previous day's hurricane had torn off a lot of shingles and a few shutters, but that could easily be fixed. Even the gate hung on one hinge. It creaked when she pushed it open. Sheryl, mane and tail still in braids, walked up beside Andrea and looked inside. She glanced back at Andrea worriedly. "Don't worry, Sher," Andrea said. "I'm not THAT big a fool. I just wanted to take a good look at--" WHIZZZZZ--THONK!!! Andrea froze, as did Sheryl. Slowly, she looked around. And saw that a rather nasty-looking dart had embedded itself in the gatepost, about six inches away from where she was standing. Andrea stepped back, pausing only to slip on a thick glove and remove the dart for closer inspection. It was about four inches long, and the tip was a steel spike coated with some sticky-looking substance. Andrea was NOT about to touch it. Instead, she wrapped a handkerchief around it several times and stuck it inside a spare glove. She looked back at the house, its hanging door and broken windows seeming to stare back at her with the unsettling gaze of a bleached skull. "The dart gun must have been set in the door or a window, or something, and set to shoot people in the gate. But it's become a bit unsteady with age, so its aim is off. Hmm, that could mean that a lot of the traps might not work, which chould make our job a whole lot easier..." She turned, and walked back to the carraige. "Come on, Sheryl, let's go back to the Inn. I have an advert to post." An hour or so later, the following message appeared on the bulletin board at the Dragon's Inn: --------------------------------------------- ATTENTION ONE AND ALL!!! ANNOUNCING A HOUSE-STORMING PARTY!!! I have just purchased a house which is riddled with booby-traps, magical and mundane, and mysteries and secrets untold! I need brave adventurers who can help me unriddle its secrets and make it into a fit place to live! As payment, I can offer some gold pieces and a share of whatever treasures may lie within! After my house is rendered safe to live in, I shall then be ready to move in. I hope to host some sort of a party at that time. Please contact me at the Dragon's Inn if you are interested! --Andrea-- --------------------------------------------- -- Chris Meadows | Robotech/RIFTS/Palladium fanfic author/editor CHM173S@SMSVMA | They Might Be Giants about Star Trek aliens: CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU | "Everybody wants prosthetic foreheads CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU | on their real heads!" MagicHutchHeader From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Storm] What can you do about the weather? Message-ID: Date: 7 Apr 93 19:02:49 GMT [ADMIN] This is a long one. Any characters used herein are copyright to their originators, all rights reserved etc. In a field a continent away and weeks in the past, something evil played games with butterflies. For a god fresh-torn from chaos, this trick was simple, and so rewarding, because the storm that would grow from this small meddling would kill all but a handful of those in its path. Generica would fall like wheat before the harvesters' scythe, and the god's brethren would be left without the food they craved - those lovely delicious deaths would, instead, feed power to Itself, the god of devastation and relentless misery. The storm would run out into the Great Blue, and spinning past the Fist of the Gods, it would tear power from that devastating permanent storm, and raise a surge of wind-driven water fully four hundred feet high. The wave would wash across the city, back across the farms and up even to the hills. It considered, for a moment, whether Its purposes would be well served by a pressure on that fault offshore, then It decided to wait, until It had fed, and more power was available. It could use that later, to build up destruction against the fools in their desert land to the south. It checked Its plans again, and noticed with something analogous to pleasure that there were other beings, noticing the storm, who were plying their own machinations to make it grow larger - not realizing perhaps, just how immensely powerful it would become. It checked the path of the nascent storm, and then moved to the waste places, where the storm would first begin to build, and It planted there a seed that It had stolen, at great price, from the heart of the City of Brass. The god gloated and planned, then, happy with the seed It had planted, It faded back to the place where the gods were kept away from the damage that men could do to them. A hummingbird blinked into view in the field, then two, then four, then eight, sixteen. Each of them was a flame of red and green. Their wings perturbed the air, muddled the careful construction. The storm would be less - the seed was blighted. Sixteen beaks stabbed out, catching the powdery wings. Over and over, they crushed butterflies, each body vanishing in a wash of flame. Then, as with a single thought, they vanished again. The storm built. ---- Traveller the Gold Elf had locked the door to the WorldGate building. Therefore, when the stranger appeared in the middle of his sparse lunch, he was more than a bit surprised. "We're closed, the coming storm has destabilized the gate, please leave." He began the gestures that would eject the intruder, then stopped as the intruder stepped out of the shadows, countering with the identification signs for the Travellers' College. "'Raelf! What are you doing here?" "Well, two things. First, I'm your repairman. I got assigned to put in a web-restabilizer for the location booster subsystem. Second, I wanted to talk to you about the emergency power tap." "Well, we can do both at the same time, right?" "Awesome. OK, damp the Flames." Traveller walked over to the Brazier in its well in the center of the room, and performed the complex gesture that caused the flames to subside. The wormhole became visible in the archway, its convolutions wandering around the containment field. 'Raelf was on his knees digging his hands through the brazier, scooping the still-hot coals out into a small metal box. After a while, he came to the webwork of mithril and orichalcum that held the hundred hundred small gemstones that comprised the control system. "Dude, in the blue box, you'll find a glass tube. The five gems in the tube are upgrades, please to do your standard attunement and then hand them down to me?" The gold elf complied, casting the spells of Impression at the strange stones in the tube - he wondered what they were. "Ready. Here you go." "Thanks muchly." There were some PING!s and five stones were replaced. "Will it stop wobbling now?" "Should. Hey, I need to have the emergency power tap online today, I'm surfing the storm in about fifteen minutes." "You're WHAT?" ----- Down in the Buff. Go where the buildings aren't even crappy little shanties any more. Go where anything new is put up, turns decayed and rotten in about an hour. Shunrunners there. Gotta run because the Press gets you, squeeeezes your brains out your nog - or squeezes your bones or crushes your liver. Gotta run because Creepy Charlie lives in the Shun, and Creepy Charlie gonna mess you up. You lucky, he messes you up and you croak it. You not, you turn INTO Creepy Charlie. Pos. I tell no ducks. Look for Drew. He's the oldest one. Nineteen years and he's been a Shunrunner for most of them, knows almost how to dodge the Press, knows more about Creepy Charlie, how to 'vade and where to bolt. He'll tell you pos how we got thru the Storm. Nobody better. Money? You got money? So I'll tell you then. Was just a week, two weeks, after the Press stopped for a half a day. Weather was shaftin grots, first snow, then cold nights, then this big shaftin hurcane. Just as it got started blowing, I get the call, and kip in ta the meets. Drew was auding this big blond guy, vid ta me like his big bro' 'cept he don't have any. Drew calls us all, we gotta skip off ta all the other runners, get us and the fems and the fams all together, bring all our bestest 'jeckts an' any eats we got with. So we get 'em. Then the shivvy phenom haps. Blondie rips a hole right there in the air. Drew jumps, but Blondie pips him to the ledge 'bout the Safe Hole, and he goes in the hole his own self, comes back. Drew can't back off, gotta show he's pos masc, so he goes in, comes back. So we all go in this hole in the air. Other side, is this shaftin' big room, like in the uptown. We all sit around, no noggin what the haps are. Well, Drew pips up Blondie, tells him this is shaftin' rude to cap us all in this room an' not tell us what's the haps. Blondie vids at Drew and his ocks go all flickery-like, and he pulls this 'jeckt out his aud, like a big Charliewhacker stick, only it was really in his very aud, and he hits it gainst the wall. Wall goes all shiny wet like it was water, and outside is this storm. Man oh man. I still get nervy ta pip about it. Big whirly snake things, like the time Creepy Charlie got hold of a buncha rats and took their legs off and made 'em fly around. Shaft, I dunno why he did that. He's Charlie, that's what he does. So we got ta watch the whole thing. After a while some of the ruggers got all shivvy and Blondie did somethin' with his Charliewhacker, an' the wall went all white again. 'Cept Drew sayz it din't but I think he's jacked in the nog, cause him an' Largo was the only ones that sayz that. Oh, and Blondie had some pos plenty eats. Almost got sick. ----- Rowan Littlefair was packing the glass breakables in barrels, while outside, Mary was locking down all the shutters. 'Raelf came in, accompanied by his huge barbarian-looking friend with the red hair. They nodded to the folks who were still in the Inn, and went straight to the bar. "Rowan, we need two kegs of Catamount Porter, right now." "This isn't the time." 'Raelf vaulted the bar. "Man, I can't argue." He lifted a keg in one hand. Rowan's eyes widened - that thing weighed over two hundred pounds. He tossed it across to the barbarian, who poked holes in two sides of it, with a big finger, and then started swigging out of one. 'Raelf lifted another barrel, and with short, sharp striking motions, knocked holes in his, then said "No fair, you started first." The barbarian tried not to laugh as he drank. He lifted his keg and a stream of the black syrupy liquor began foaming down into his mouth. As it poured in, he started giving off first a gentle heat, then light, glowing a brighter and brighter yellow, like looking into a fire. Rowan squinted, and looked away, his sight settling to focus on the barbarian, who was just finishing his keg. He looked, if anything, wilder than ever, but his belly wasn't distended with the gallons he had downed. A shudder ran down his massive frame, and first, dozens of small, kitten-sized dragons started appearing around him, then a blond-haired Enchantress ... stepped out of his body as if he were a doorway. She smiled at Rowan, and gestured, and vanished, the dragonets scattering out the door, through the walls, and away. An older woman, in nun's robes, stepped out, followed by a younger woman in similar attire. "Come on, then," the older said to the younger, and they walked toward the door, vanishing like mirages partway through. They were followed by a slinky woman in a painted-on silk sarong. She gave Littlefair a look that made Mary frown, then snapped her fingers. Two huge thugs arose from dark corners, and flanked her, going to the door. A palanquin was waiting outside, and she got in, thugs running alongside, and vanished down the street towards Merchant's Hill. A tall, redhaired woman stepped out of the barbarian, looking like his twin sister. "Hurry it up," she snapped, and a wolf leaped out and went with her out the door. A youngish man wearing clerical robes stepped out, then an older man in the same garb. The young man dragged impatiently on the sleeve of the older. "Come on, man, we've got to get to temple district. Worry about cleaning the stain of the city off your soul later!" Rowan flinched aside. 'Raelf had finished his keg, and was too uncomfortably hot to stand near. "Sorry, Rowan. Keep two more kegs of Cat Porter out, please, we may need to refuel." There was a wash of cold and he vanished. "Cheater!" the giant barbarian shouted, and another older man stepped out of his shadow, the aura of mystical power crackling around him, and he raised his staff and vanished in a pouf! of smoke. The barbarian started towards the door, leaving behind him a man in his mid thirties, nondescript, kind of average in appearance. "Forgotten again, as usual," he complained, and he went towards the door. Another harried official came in, brushing past the man, and came up to Rowan. The man stepped out the door, reading a scroll. "Sea Guard is declaring state of emergency. All able-bodied persons are conscripted, by authority of the Wyeriun." He reached into his sleeve for the official notification scroll to wave around and stopped short. "I know I had that warrant here somewhere." Rowan just growled. "There's the door. My guests have all gone to help elsewhere. Get on with your business." The official left, flustered. The door was barred behind him as the first gust of wind hit. ----- Johan Farmer watched as all the animals went to ground. This was not good. The sky was still clear, the wind from the west. The sunset had been blood-red yesterday, and he was worried. The coming storm promised to be a bad one, and he'd just plowed the fields. "Sir Farmer." "GAH!" he jumped - there was a woman, riding on a white horse, behind him in the fields. He wondered later how she'd gotten there without him hearing her approach. "There's no time, sir. You must take your family and your livestock, and get to the hill stockade at once." "Orcs?" "Worse. The biggest storm you've ever seen, the wizards sent out the warning just now." He dropped his rake and ran for the house. In the distance, a bell was ringing the all-assemble warning. The woman on the horse smiled grimly and rode on. There were still half a dozen small villages nearby who hadn't heard the warning. ----- Mrs. Cludne wrapped her strong bony arms around another grandkid and dragged him off to the inside shelter rooms. The blonde woman with the dragons had been very clear: Get under cover, this is the big one. She'd even dragged Kardia off to warn some other folks, some weaver types. Mrs. Cludne wondered to herself if she had the time to make some bread before the storm hit, and decided agin' it. ----- In the heart of the Fist, a sphere of Air stood, impossibly calm. The spirits of the storm played together, mindless. The demons that drove those elementals noticed the walls of the sphere, and approached, but then left when they saw the sigils of the Masters. Inside the sphere, a white-haired man stood, staff outstretched. His eyes blazed with power. "Now, Rafe, open the walls." A figure made up of mist and air gestured with a staff shod in silver-steel, and the sphere thinned, the sigils of warding vanished. "Come to me. By Ethros and by Oberon, by Incandantulus and Theriant, by Blitzesh and Djin-marid, by the twenty zephyrs and the four winds of the world I call you to me. By Coriolis and by Centripetus, come to me." The demons that drove the elementals heard the voice, and screamed in their rage as they were compelled to obedience. They came. They crowded around the sphere of stillness, and their perceptions saw through the walls of air and through the flesh to the crystalline shape behind it, and they observed their images reflected therein. They saw themselves, obedient to the will of the entity, and the image entrapped them. _What would you have us do?_ they asked. "There will be another storm, sent by a god, which will pass by this storm in which you dwell. It will try to steal power from this storm into itself, and if you allow this to happen, it will take sufficient power to rip the heart from this storm. You are to give it just enough extra impetus to spin it off northwards, without feeding it." _We comply. When will it come?_ "It will be here in three days. Go now and prepare." _____ << This is station K-A-N-I bringing you all the hits you can STAND! >> Raucous noises erupted from the speakers - squacking and bleating and the sound of a chorus of tuned chainsaws. The big red-haired man on the surfboard paddled farther out - there, it was starting to swell, the storm winds were coming. He got up on his board and waved, signalling to the slightly shorter but equally massive blond man following him. The noise from the soundbox stopped as the etheric turbulence of the storm began to drown out the music. He sent the soundbox back into storage and waited for the other to draw closer. <> <> <> <> <> <> their boards began to glow, faintly, runic indicators running up and down the sides. They began moving forward, balancing comfortably, and split up, fantail wakes behind them as they began to move across the water at just under the speed of sound. The storm noticed them, and threw lightning. After the fourth bolt was absorbed it decided not to waste the energy. It was disappointed, the sister storm had rejected it, refused to feed power to it, and it wasn't able to raise the swell more than a paltry two hundred fifty feet. It felt the tremble at its roots as its perturbing winds stirred the water deeply, driving it before. It spun in place, pulling deep with its syphon. The water whirled, sucked up high into the sky as the storm drew more power from the heat differential between the water and the cold stratosphere. Water froze in the upper air, in large chunks with fish caught in them. No human could have seen the heart of the storm and survived, the half-mile-diameter tornado reaching five miles up into the air, and the hundreds of smaller children spun off by the center syphon, the wind alone would have torn them into shreds. The heat and cold fed it more power, as each sought its place... <> <> The wavefront of the storm was a surge constrained by unnatural forces to face the eastern continent. The continental shelf would soon impact with the wave, and it would break into impulses of water, each reaching almost halfway down to the shelf itself, a series of breakers that would send water washing over the southern swamps, obliterating the humans and ripping loose the forests; washing over Generica and sending a surge of water up the Cerupthon that would even flood things in Specifica of the Furs. There was something itchy happening along the leading waves. Something was moving up and down along the surge, carving into it - but where it carved, the wavefront was collapsing into dozens of smaller waves. The storm looked, but somehow it wasn't able to see what was doing this. It fumed and threw lightning around in rage, but its most destructive waves still fell apart as it watched. ----- The back door had been barred shut, now that the winds had reached the alleyway. Andrea and Sheryl sat up in the Dragons' Inn, not wanting to go downstairs until it was necessary. There was a gust of fresh air and 'Raelf appeared from nowhere, looking paler than she'd ever seen him. He was wearing a strange black bodysuit, looked like whaleskin, and Andrea blinked - he seemed lots bigger, somehow. "Cat!" he muttered, and lifted a keg from behind the bar, one handed, and with a blinding-fast serpent-strike, poked a hole in it. He put his mouth to the opening and began swallowing. Sheryl made a sort of bleating noise as she watched. Andrea just stared, mouth open. Carson the cat just played with his string mouse. "'Raelf?" He didn't respond. What did happen was that he began to glow. Then another man appeared from nowhere, a huge red-haired barbarian type. He wasn't wearing the traditional fur jockstrap though, but a black body suit like the one 'Raelf had on. He did have a jumbo economy size sword in the traditional over-the-back sheath though. "Beer! NOW!" he moaned, and did much the same thing 'Raelf had done. 'Raelf finished his keg presently, and tossed it aside. He stood, eyes flashing color, and looked at Andrea with faint aureolae of fire around his edges. "See ya after the storm. Work to do." He vanished again. The barbarian grinned at her, tossing aside his drained keg. "Refueling." He vanished too. "What do you make of that?" Andrea asked. Sheryl did a creditable imitation of a shrug. ----- "Mommy, looky, another dragon! Just like Draggy!" "Not now, dear." Sahrae tucked her mop of grey-and-blond hair back into her house-scarf and looked out the window. The western sky was growing ominously dark. She felt a tug at her apron. "Not now, I said!" She looked down, and saw her giggling daughter standing at the door holding her dragon toy. She shrieked - the tugging at her apron was a - a DRAGON, pulling on her dress! "Get OFF! Shoo!" The dragon snorted miniature flames, and buzzed around behind her, bumping against her like a maddened bird. "Mommy, he says we hafta go to the temple now." "What?" The buzzing creature stopped bumping against her. "The dragon, he says the storm is gonna ... in-dun-ate Low City. Is that right?" the girl asked the little dragon. "Yes, he says it's gointa flood." "Gods. Get your warmest dress from your room, honey, right now." She started tossing their few valuables into a scarf, and looked wistfully at the spinning wheel. Well, the spindle and thread, anyway. She started a second scarf filled with dried fruit and then grabbed the small brass pot they used to cook in. This will have to do, then. She tied everything onto the staff her husband had cut for her to use on thieves. "Honey, are you ready?" "Yes, mommy. The dragon said to hurry, then he went away." "Well, you bring your Draggy with you, then. Come on, we're going to go down to Issek's temple. "OK." They half-ran down the street, joining a small mob gathered outside along the Street of Temples. "What's happening?" Sahrae asked a woman she knew, from down the street. "The priests won't let us in. The temple of Aditi is full, Issek is full, the Fellowship won't let non-members in. Even Ilmater has no room left. What are we going to do?" "I don't know. Have you heard from your husband?" "All the dockworkers are shoring up the dikes and reinforcing the seawall." "Oh gods, I hope they get to safety before the waves hit." ----- Three weeks ago, atop the middle peak of a triple mountain, a man and a woman are sculpting clouds. The mountain is far to the north of Generica, and halfway down the mountain the sun blazes brightly on the Diamondgate. Somewhere to the east, Raoh the Conqueror is deciding to expand his empire again. South, some small kingdoms have been taken by yet another Dark Master, but it will eventually fall, as all the others have. The man aims his staff like a bazooka, "Pow! Zap!" and large chunks of cloud vanish as extreme turbulence hits them, and the sunlight falls on the ground below, and the heat increases the air pressure. The woman arches one brow and shouts out incomprehensible words, and three clouds run together, moving south. They keep up their contest. After the first hour, the clouds to the south have become an angry mass, snow forming in their upper regions. Where they've been pulled away, the chinook winds are growing. After the twelfth hour the man and woman are just the far side of exhausted. Two and a half weeks later, a freak snowstorm rolls south and west, and behind it follows a ridge of high pressure, a nearly insurmountable wall to deflect the oncoming hurricane. But it breaks, and blows west and south again, and though the swamps to the south will be somewhat protected, Generica is still naked to its onslaught. ----- The West Side Women's Shelter was packing in full. Sister El'n was very unhappy. She couldn't let men into the place. It pained her, but the fact was, there were women here whose only contacts with men were with brutal husbands and abusive fathers, as yet unhealed, and she dare not risk their safety. She prayed, here in her small cubicle, for a solution. Unfortunately the solution was at hand. "You'd think we weren't the same under the skin," Lady Ale said in dry measured tones. "You know I can handle the overflow." "Yes, but I don't like what happens to the men who go into your house." "Ale House is a very safe house, and no man, or _woman_ for that matter, who goes inside, is ever coerced into what they do there." "I know that. Still, the whole situation encourages the continuance of the oppressive relationships." "It comes with the body, darling. Hairy ape creatures all, with hairy ape instincts, however much they deny them." "Sometimes I am appalled at your attitudes." "It's one face of truth, m'dear. As is yours. Well, I must off. Ta." She faded into the shadows, leaving behind the wisp of smoke. "I wish she wouldn't smoke that stuff around me." The priestess returned to the work rooms. Forty more women had been fitted into the small space. It would be hard to get more in, without doing something rash. Well, if necessary, she'd do something rash. "Arienna, how are your children?" she asked a quiet woman, who was in the kitchen peeling tubers for the evening meal. "Very well, thank you. Leoni is very happy with his Gunk Dragon." "I understand you've become quite an animal artist, yourself." "Yes, sister. It satisfies my need for revenge quite nicely." "Arienna, you surprise me. You create such gentle loving toys, and you say this is for revenge?" "Yes, sister. It makes me feel like I have destroyed everything they wanted to make out of me, when I make a really good one." "That's very interesting. I'll have to look into that." "Sister, some of us in the hostel have come to a decision, we'd like it if you could move the paying guests into our inner quarters. We can all fit in one or two rooms while the storm is here, since it's just for a few days at most." "That's very kind of you, Arienna. We'll probably have to accept your offer. Things aren't looking good." "Sister? I'm afraid Toriquel has gone." "Gone? You mean, back to her family?" "Yes. She saw her mother yesterday when we were at the market, and she snuck away to talk to her, and I think they convinced her to go home. She took the baby, too." "Oh no. This was not the time for her to do this." "What can we do?" "Pray, Arienna. The storm will be here too soon for us to go after her." The building shook, as the first gusts rolled up the valley. Inside Ale House, the crowds were still growing. Something about the place, though: there was still room, barely, to move around through the crowds. The stage had been pulled back, and there were benches and most of the tables had been removed, but since the larger part of Ale House was the underground room, there was little to fear from a blown-off roof. Someone had managed to make room for a small hospital, in one of the viewing rooms. Two young women, acolytes of some nameless faith, were caring for the injured, setting broken bones, purging the last water from the lungs of workers that had been saved from the tides, sealing cuts and punctures and abrasions. The bouncers at the door were still dragging people inside. Somehow the news had gotten out to the docks - come to Ale House, if you can't get elsewhere. Leave your name on the bulletin board, and families can get back together later. ----- "You're the temple of Issek, you can't refuse to open." "No more, old man, you can't come in here. No room." "Father, can I hurt him, please?" "No, Kachin, remember our vows. You, behind the door. _ADMIT ME_" The door flew open momentarily, then closed, catching Kachin outside. He shrugged apologetically as the crowd started to surge towards him, then stopped as they saw the doors were shut. Inside the temple of Issek, the crowding was severe. At the far end, past the crowd, a small raised dias was occupied by a gentleman in severe robes. Howard walked towards him, the crowd parting around him like grass in a wheatfield. "You, up there. I require your assistance!" "I'm sorry, there's nothing more we can do, it's all we can handle to keep the Temple secure against the coming storm." "You call yourself a servant of the gods with such a feeble faith? You get down here, and come with me. You can get back up and cover your ass when you've finished serving the people of this town. _COME DOWN_" The prelate of Issek stiffened in shock, and found himself stepping down into the crowd behind the old hermit, following him outside past the Guardian of the Vestibule into the crowd outside. Meanwhile, Kachin had finally understood the Plan, and was gleefully making his way through the gathering crowd to the open doors of the Temple of the Goddess of Hurtful Love. He saw at once why nobody was crowding to try to get inside - there wasn't room. The sanctuary was full, injured and sick people lying everywhere possible. Nobody was trying to drag any of them outside - the raver gods hadn't been able to get anywhere near this place yet. Kachin looked across the room, and on the far side, Delmara - he remembered her from the brief meeting at Luthor's party, though he hadn't been himself at that moment - so he called her name out. "Delmara! Come here!" She looked up, resigned. "This isn't the best of times." "There isn't a better one. Come, I need you." The priestess carefully navigated through the sea of people. "Where to?" she asked, carefully keeping the disgust from her voice. He handed her a ball of scarlet silken thread and smiled. "Follow." ----- { Incoming priority ethermail. } "Rivy, why does this always happen when we're in bed together?" "Oh, just answer it." "Move over a bit. Thank you." "Go ahead, etherdaemon." { Urco, good buddy, get out of the sack, force thirty storm coming in, eta 4 hours } "Force WHAT?" Rivy gasped. "That's off the scale!" "Etherdaemon, open all channels, voice only, emergency announcement." {{ Attention. This is an internal security emergency override. All weather workers are to report to Duty Mage. Strike teams go to alert status. End transmission. }} "Etherdaemon, forward my alert and the last message I received to Supreme Archmage Delalle, and open a reply line to the sender." {{ <> <> 'Raelf, what the hell is going on? <> It looks like - oh SHIT what is that? <> <> <> }} "Urco, what was that?" "I think someone's created a marid." "Oh no." ----- Sahrea held her daughter closer and rocked back against the stone of the wall. Her neighbor, next to her, was simply crying soundlessly, letting the rising wind blow her shawl awry without trying to stop it. The crowd had grown, mostly filling the street, people who had nowhere to go. They knew that there wasn't a chance in the world that their fragile buildings would withstand the storm - hell, they fell apart all too easily in the regular storms. The sound of bells came from the center of the street, and she stood up, craning her neck to see. "_Hear_Me, _People_of_the_Lower_City_ ... Join us in prayer as we consecrate this street to the gods of mercy, of protection, of light. Join your prayers to ours and we will call down the protection of the gods." Red silk streamers shot into the sky, landing along the length of the street, crossing around. A chant began, and Sahrea found herself joining her voice to the chant. Light have mercy Shine on us, defend us from the evil in the dark Defender have mercy Guard us, protect us from malice and from disaster We consecrate this street to thee Gods of mercy have mercy on us We consecrate this street to thee Gods of protection, guard us from harm We consecrate this street to thee Gods of light protect us from the evil living in darkness Gods of light protect us from the evil that abides the light The chant continued, the cleric of Issek taking the part of Mercy, Delmara taking the part of Light, the high priest of Ilmater leading the crowd in the part of Protection. Father Howard and Initiate Kachin walked the perimeters, chanting in counterpoint, touching the streamers to each of the supplicants in the crowd. Each round of chanting wove the red streamers tighter, into a wide ribbon that wound around the temples and cordoned the street. The first wind struck as Kachin on one end, and Howard on the other, tied the final knots in the ribbon. It paused, puzzled, and wandered away, unable to figure the path to take to find its way into the street. And when the rains came, they fell elsewhere, and when the lightnings struck all around, the flames never reached, and the eye of the storm never saw the light that kept it away. _____ The seawall was crumbling. Five men were trapped on the far end, and the foreman was screaming orders over the roar of the wind and surf. "GET ME MORE SANDBAGS - GET A LINE OVER HERE!" The tall redhaired barbarian on the sandbag line shouted something inaudible, as he continued throwing bag after bag to the top of the dikes. A blond man appeared, looking as if the sea had thrown him forth: his skin gleamed black like whaleskin, and St Elmo's fire ran around him. He said something to the barbarian, nodded, and dove into the water, vanishing below the surface. The lighting was visible in the oncoming storm front - it began focussing on one point, then with a flare, a blinding flash shot to the shore. When the foreman could see again, the barbarian was missing, but a strange woman, surrounded by tiny dragons, was doing some sort of magical ritual - she sent a shaft of light into the water beside the seawall. One second went by, two, three - and the rocks that made up the seawall began to grow. The grinding noise was louder even than the storm and the waters pounded without success as the wall grew wider and higher, spiky and sharp as only fresh-thrown rock can be. The men at the far end of the seawall had all but given up, the surf and wind pounding at them. Then someone came up out of the water carrying a black staff. "MAKE A CHAIN AND FOLLOW ME" he shouted, and began walking across the seawall, tapping the staff on the surface - the rocks levelled out under it, forming a flat road on top of the seawall. They reached the shore. "WHERE'S THE SEA MAGE? WHY HASN'T HE TURNED THIS STORM?" The barbarian was back. He nodded at Luthor, who had just fused their sandbag wall into solid stone. Now for the river. He ran. ----- The Wyeriun was collapsed over the great horn - It wasn't fair, the gods had given that naif Kalendral into his hands, him and his horn, but the damned thing still resisted him. ::WYERIUN!:: Gods - that was Delalle's voice! The Supreme Archmage himself! ::WYERIUN, COME FORTH!:: He frantically cast the sealing and the binding, the horn would not be touched until he returned. With a splash like waves on the rocks he vanished, reappearing in his council room atop the Kraken Tower. The wind was whipping through the open windows in excess of thirty knots, and he staggered against the force of it to reach the lever that closed the shutters. ::Wyeriun. You will be required to cast the Vortegei spell at the point when the storm syphon reaches the harbor. We must not let the marid enter the city.:: "Marid? There's a marid in that storm? Gods! It must be immense! Marestasi, hear me! Light the magefire beacons, all towers! We have no time to waste!" The Wyeriun's order was heard in each of the towers. The ordinary lights were extinguished, and the emerald floods were raised into position, then the metal sticks ignited by the secret command words. Five towers began glowing with the energies of sea-against-shore, and their beams lanced out to sea, pushing against the storm. The storm screamed in pain and threw down curtains of rain to protect its heart from that light. Six towers rise along the ridge that shelters Generica from the Great Blue Sea. Five of these are owned by the Marestasi, the Sea Wizards and the Sea Guard of Generica. The Great Harbor curves gently and along its open curve, these five are the center. A lighthouse marks the rocky shoal north of town, and a much older one, an ancient lighthouse, marks the south point. The ships never go on the older route, now that the sea wall is in place, and so there is no hazard from the rocks that the ancient lighthouse warns of. Atop the lighthouse, a young man stands. He is garbed in white robes and does not feel the wind and the rain, he is unconcerned by the sight of the great storm. He sees the brazier with the coals banked and warded from the rain; he sees the great lens, and behind it, the cupola and shield; he sees the empty basket at the focus of the cupola. He reaches into the brazier, barehanded, and picks up one of the coals, a fist-sized sapphire that bleeds power. He stanches its wound, and places it into the cupola. It begins to glow. Something speaks. The voice is unhuman, speaking in the oldest of languages, and Dariel turns - the entity which has appeared beside him is a crystalline shifting, reflecting him in his past and his future. He sees in its eyes as the Aedile tried his obedience, sees in its facets as Ranos falls at his hands. He looks deeper, and sees behind the reflections. It is scattered across the now and the past, fighting the storm for lives. It has won a few, perhaps more than a few. <> "I am. I greet you, Reflecting Stone, warrior of Creation." <> "Warrior? Yes. I suppose that I am, now. What do you want from me?" <> "I know. The murdergod was created by a Reaverschild. Was it new?" <> The stone in the cupola began to glow, brighter and brighter. The woman-crystal moved a hand into the light, and smiled, feeling its texture and its power. <> "The flows of Power in the ground, certainly." <> The sapphire glow of the stone became a blazing flame which shot out into the storm. Deep within, something screamed. The rain curtains parted, and the dozen dozen lesser waterspouts were illuminated by the unearthly glow. The waves were lit up - line after line of white capped water, each one sufficient to swamp half of Generica. The bay began to churn as the Wyeriun began the Spell of Vortegei. And then the storm front overtopped the ridge, wind and spray that tried to tear loose the beacon, topple the lighthouse. Trees screamed in agony as they were torn loose and hurled through the air. <> The wards rose around them, and the walls grew bright. She smiled, the human shell outside the heart of crystal, and laid a hand on the cupola, pivoting the beam on its gimbals, crossing beams with the other towers. And the lesser waterspouts began to die. The beams from the six towers lanced out and wherever two crossed, the lesser spirits of air and water were banished and the winds died down a little. By the time the syphon of the heart of the storm crossed the continental shelf, it was alone, no other waterspouts with it. By the time it reached the mouth of the bay, it had been ripped countless times. It was only a quarter-mile across. But rage and humiliation drove it to attack and destroy the miserable humans who had used their despicable magics to lessen its glory. It stood over the bay, and the Wyeriun's spell siezed it. The waters swirled - clockwise against its own counterclock turning. It writhed, shrieked, and the massive inertia of the bay, the turning of the world around its axis, twisted and shook it. And it died. The stormheart vanished, the syphon spun down to nothing, leaving behind it only the forces of a natural storm. The waves crashed, but did not overwhelm the sea walls. But then the rains, restrained before, came down. ar'Elya looked around her. The emissary of Hope had departed while she fought the storm. She sighed, and returned down the stairs into the lighthouse to watch the storm with Rafe, through the sea window. She found Dariel there, in conversation with her mate. ----- Under the city, a forgotten people live. They're despised by the dwellers above, even despised by those who live down here in the muck and the tunnels. Uptop, the storm has yet to strike. A ratty looking man has gotten into the sewers. He splashes along, ignoring the muck sticking to his pantlegs, heading directly along the route they take most often. His name is Errol. Let's watch him for a while. He ignored the T-crocs. Well, no, that wouldn't be smart. He tossed a cigarette behind him, leaving it to smoulder on the surface of the muck. A coughing roar behind him let him know he'd snared one, and it sounded like it was losing a lung. He smiled and lit another clove-and-hemp. splash splash splash There, one of those hedge-wizard types. He waved. "Hey, you, how far am I from the gelunkencentre?" "Now you die, interloper! Prepare to face ... The Wedgie of DOOM!" the wizard started waving his arms extravagantly. Errol frowned and threw the stub of his cigarette at the man. "WEEE-na-chak-ah DEEN an (cough) chak (cough cough) GAK! CAwahhhhagk! Blearg! hak hak hak hak wheeeeeeeze thud" the wizard was on his knees gagging and choking. "Wedgie of doom. Gods. What next?" He ran further down the tunnel, coming up behind a motley group of dwarves and a strange furry fat man. "Hey, Bakr! You guys better get to someplace watertight. Big gullywasher coming real soon!" He splashed on past, while behind him one of the barbarian ratcatchers watched. "That looked like a rat to me." "Nah, just a thief, if it was a rat it wouldn't have knowed Bakr's name." "You sure?" splash splash splash splash The ratty man came across a more motley crew, resting over the corpses of about twenty T-crocs. "Hey HO! You in the cyber-armor! Tell Meshtak, get your bunch to shelter, there's a big storm uptop, lots of flood water coming!" "WHAT THE HELL - Hey you, wait up. Damn, he's gone." splash splash splash splash Twang-thok. An arrow, sticking out of the wall in front of him, a very skilfully made arrow. Black shaft, black feathers, shiny on the end. The smell - yes, Silent Death. Damn, he was in Drow territory. "Hold it right there, sewer rat." The voice was vaguely familiar, one of the Demon Spiders gang. "You guys better get going fast." "You are in no position to give orders." "Have you been uptop lately? There's a storm up there. It's big. It's going to flood these tunnels out. You better get going." "Right. And monkeys might fly out. Grigor, cover me. "I don't have time for your games." He vanished into the shadows around him. "SHIT! Where'd he go?" "You were watching him." "Now what are we gonna tell Noctu?" "Nothing. What he don't know won't hurt us." splash splash splash splash "This is the place." The ratty man had arrived in a large empty cavern, faintly lit by glowmoss. On the far side, one of the bottomless chasms lay between him and the sewer outwash gates. "Now how to get them here. Heh. He'll hate it." The man smiled evilly as he lit up another clove-and-hemp cigarette. <> He grinned, making his face almost look pleasant. The air grew momentarily fresher and 'Raelf stepped out, in full speed-skate regalia. "What's up?" "We need you to be someone." "No duh. Who?" "You won't like it." "Probably not. Who?" "Euprhastes." "Oh gods no, why HIM?" "Because you need to be able to call the sewer dwellers here, this is the only really safe spot in the undercity." "Oh man, I'm gonna GET you for this." "Promises, promises. Just do it." "Merde." 'Raelf shuddered in distaste, then FLICK changed - where the blond surfer had stood was a wild-eyed fellow with goats' feet, six foot three of hairy muscle and flagrantly naked, the image of Pan himself. He leered at Errol, who just blew smoke at him. His broad, flat nose dilated. "Hey, give me some of that," he demanded, and swiped for the cigarette. "Not until you get out those pipes and play." "Boring git. Fine." He lifted a set of panpipes to his lips, and began blowing into them. The music wasn't so much something you HEARD as FELT, grabbing you in the crotch and in the feet, calling and compelling. The wildness siezed him, and he began to play with growing ferocity, hot and cold desire and impulse, overriding thought with instinct. He played louder, and louder, and after a few moments, they appeared: first one, then ten, then fifty, the gully dwarves of the sewers of Generica. More kept coming, all of them crowding around, dancing and playing, children and adults. After a while the edges of the crowd were full of other things, humans, elves dark and light, the legendary half crocodile offspring of the gully dwarves ... And lots of rats. The music kept playing, and they responded with eager abandon. They hardly noticed it when the storm roared uptop, nor did it concern them some minutes later when the rush of waters erupted into the chamber and down the bottomless pit, pushing some random detritus before it. One or two of the bits of detritus were able to get away and joined in the ongoing orgy. Euprhastes kept playing. Errol watched. Uptop, the storm passed, devastation in its wake. ----- Fear is an instinct common to living things. It isn't normally part of the experience of a god. But then, gods are rather limited in what they can and can't do, at least, the lower-case gods are. They don't usually have real emotions, the sweaty mixture of five dozen different hormones and the pang of hunger and need; they don't have bodies in the physical world, and the bodies they carry in the Real world are only subject to the pure archetypes of feeling, no subtle shadings. Only when they manage to create an avatar, or when they succeed in their occasional attempts to be inborn into another kind of body, do they really experience the feelings of the physical beings that feed them, by worship and by those actions which reinforce their spheres of power. The god of disaster and relentless misery was only a month old, and that month had been a disaster. It had been very subtle, spawning a storm, intending to sieze the food that would have been taken by Its siblings. But It failed. Somehow the storm had been blunted, not once but five times, and only Its frantic dancing on the edges of Its Power had made the thing come off. Now the Others pursued It. Refuge. It hid ItSelf, deep in the field of flowers where the first mistake had happened. A hummingbird appeared. It flinched - birds don't just appear, they have to fly from place to place, they start in eggs, not in twists of fire and air. The hummingbird swirled around It, and chimes sparkled sourly against its skin, leaving a bellowing fragrance behind. <> The god of disaster felt its power turning in on itself - this was indeed a disaster, and It felt an ache of misery as the Others found out Its hiding place. But the misery didn't last - It was torn to pieces and eaten, by Illness and Pain, by Lethargic Sorrow, by the twin faces of Obsession and Mania. It ended. The newly hatched godlings looked around themselves, trying to find a trace of what had called them, but they found nothing. They vanished along the roads of Thought to the place where the gods are imprisoned from the world. The hummingbird flew up from inside the bell of a flower, and vanished. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hibschmn@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Johann Allen Hibschman) Subject: [JOI] Quaeros enters the fray... Message-ID: <1993Apr7.154912.21777@Princeton.EDU> Date: Wed, 7 Apr 1993 15:49:12 GMT Following close behind Laurenth, Quaeros emerged onto the deck into the sounds of a pitched battle. What he saw burned through the mental haze still weighting him down from his ?vision?. The dead, recklessly desecrated, doing battle with his fellows. Any doubt in him evaporated, leaving only a cold rage, which only grew fiercer when he saw the robed figure commanding the dead. Who was that creature, to mock and violate death in such a way? He drew his daggers and, holding one in either hand, began to walk towards the conflict. His voice was raised in an eerie, melodic chant which seemed to rise and fall in time with the combat around him. He gestured, and three wraiths encircling Aleric exploded into dust. Aleric quickly moved to help Darkin force a wraith into the roiling sea below. Quaeros saw that the dead were still avoiding him, so he began his chant once more. Hearing the elf's voice raised once more over the fray, the robed figure on the deck of the black ship turned to watch Quaeros. Two wraiths detached themselves from the general melee and stumbled towards the chanting cleric. The wraiths lashed out at Quaeros, striking him in the arms and chest and leaving burning wounds behind. He staggered back, gravely wounded, but his voice did not falter. The wraiths exploded into shards of bone and scraps of flesh. He lowered himself into a defensive crouch and began to chant again, while fending off the assault of another wraith with his daggers. The wraith before him stumbled and fell, and the wounds across Quaeros's body faded away. Quaeros smiled and pushed the weakened undead thing over the side of the vessel, then lifted his voice in supplication to his god yet again. The tide of battle was turning, but the robed pretender on the other ship had not yet interfered. [ADMIN: The dreaded net.lag rides again! Undead. I hate these guys. Funny how those clerics of gods of death turn out to be gosh darn effective agains undead. :)] MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: [JOI][Storm] The nature of the Beast... Message-ID: <1993Apr7.175810.7742@ultb.isc.rit.edu> Date: Wed, 7 Apr 1993 17:58:10 GMT ADMIN[ What was the post about shutting off the storm directed against? I didn't follow you.] On seeing the other ship list to one side and begin to sink, Segoi could wait no longer. Reaching behind him he grabbed some rope from his pack and began tying up the wheel. "Don't ye worry laddie, I've got her," cried the helms man clinging to the wheel that was now straining against the ropes Segoi was placing about it. Leaping with a crach from the bridge, Segoi half fell, half rolled, to the side of the ship near the prow. Muttering words under his breath, he drew from his back a long(for him it really is)sword. The lightning played along the blade as he held it aloft. Then with a shout he ran along the deck in a single motion severing the lines attatched to the ship there. A few lines still remained in the rigging, and as the other ship was sinking fast, there was little time. "Quickly Captain! Get thy men aloft to unfasten the crused lines before we are all drowned!" so shouting to the captain he turned to check the helm. Seeing it to be holding he breathed a sign of relief. At that moment he felt a pain in his side. Looking down he saw a black sword protruding from his side. Segoi let out a roar of pain that could almost be heard over the winds. With that roar he brought his hand down on the sword shattering into two pieces. The ...thing... looked stunned giving Segoi time to take the black blade out of his side and hurl it back at its owner. It sturck the thing in the chest and now the time had come for it to loose its dead voice in pain. Taking hold of his sword with both hands Segoi brought it down on the shoulder of the beast, the force of the blow severing the body in two. The now again lifeless halfs lay at his feat, even as he staggered and clutched his own side. Mean while Darkin seemed to be having a lovely time. After defeating the three who were originally attacking her he had moved on to fight with Ildamar, and the others before they had either disapperaed over the side or spun off into other combat. There were still many creatures on the ship, and the cry of pain from Segoi seemed to have unerved them some, if they indeed had nerves at all. They were at least not so savage now, but more cunning. Segoi fell to one knee clutching desperatly at the side where blood ran like a river out across the deck. To Laurnth's and Darkin's discust some of the creatures stopped fighting to bend down and lap up the warm liquid. "Oh my god, escaped her lips." 'It will not end like this...uhhh...the pain is only in the body.....arggggg...the mind is stronger than the body...and I control my mind ...ALONE' the sudden rational cut through the pain like a winter breeze in the mountains, his mind cleared, he could see again. Slowly the form of Segoi rose looking like one of the wraiths them selves now, a large gash now visible to all at his side, the blood now only slowly seeping out. His eyes glowed, and the lightning flickered on his face, and it was not human. A number of the remaining undead rushed him where he stood. As each came at him he delivered a blow too quick for the eye to follow, that sent them realing over the edge or into the cabin walls. Where they fell, those who did not go over, as before began to rise up but stopped and clutched their heads. The heads of those he struck swelled up, pain and madness expressed on the faces of the damned, their motions became jerky and sparaddic until with a popping sound, their skulls simply exploded from the force that had hit them. Segoi took a step, or was it more of a lurch forward as three more rushed him, one with a blade. The two unarmed were infront and attacked first giving the bladed one enough time to hack again at Segoi this time cutting into his arm. The other two clawed and bit the exposed wound in his side causing more blood to flow freely out. Ignoring the blows as if in a trance, Segoi lifted off the two and cruched them together, throwing their bodies overboard. The last drew back and thrust with the sword straight through Segoi's right side, grinning evily as he pushed it up to the hilt. At this Segoi raised his head and let out a gasping cry. Dropping his own sword he raised his hands and brought them down on the wraith. His fingers cut through him like butter, staggering away the armless wraith growled and drouled. Segoi looked down at the sword had now run him through. Grasping the hilt he slowly dragged it back out, blood and sinues trailed from the wound as he drew it out. The wraith howled and ran at him again only to be met by Segoi's huge hand about his head. Lifting him off the deck the squeezed the skull of the lost soul. A cracking and splintering could be hurd as the head gave way and the black ooze flowed out even as the blood of Segoi joined it on the deck. With a final agonizing crunch of bone Segoi closed his hand and threw the body across the gap between the ships on the deck of the other. In so doing he fell forward with the force of the throw heading for the rail of the ship... Mr. Sinister... p.s. (help...) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac559@Freenet.carleton.ca (Ian Clysdale) Subject: [JOI][TDS(That Damn Storm!)] Raindrops falling on my head... Message-ID: <1993Apr7.231056.1965@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Wed, 7 Apr 1993 23:10:56 GMT After piercing the enemy ship, Elanon finally came up, and started panting heavily, drawing in oxygen after heaving spent so long underwater. Suddenly, as he was recovering, he felt the heavy form of Segoi fall upon his head, coming off the side of the ship. Elanon dived down and recovered the giant form of Segoi, which was now reddening the storm-incited water around him; with giant waves of crimson running over his head. Ripping off his cloak, he bandaged up Segoi as he could, and began to think about how he could get him to safety, and to healing. He climbed around the boat, trying to find an area where the wraiths were still not in full force. Finally, at the stern, he saw an area devoid of the enemy, and pulled Segoi aboard. Then, panting at the exertion it had taken both to pull himself and the huge warrior out of the water, he looked around for Quaeros. He eventually saw the cleric down at the other end of the boat, and temporarily wished he was here... until he remembered this particular one's views about healing. Then he wishes those views were not here. Eventually, the tall albino kneeled down on the ground beside a bandaged and now very hurt Segoi, and prayed to his own unknown Gods. -Elanon of Ullswater- -- Ian Clysdale | "Honour thy word, Disciple of Great Cat | honour thy friends. Seer of the Stairwell | Honour thine self, ac559@freenet.carleton.ca | and honour revenge!" MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac169@Freenet.carleton.ca (Darryl Farr) Subject: [JOI] [Storm] Growing Pains (!!) Message-ID: <1993Apr8.000041.17410@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Thu, 8 Apr 1993 00:00:41 GMT Their task finished, Ildamar and Elanon bobbed to the surface of the water and gasped for breath. "Good work!" panted Elanon, gulping down waterlogged air. Ildamar chirped modestly, then squealed loudly as the hulking and bloody form of Segoi lurched over the railing, following the inert corpse of one of the attackers. "Ouch!" Elanon exclaimed as the large man landed on his head. The pale man put his arm around the now unconscious giant, and started paddling towards the stern. Ildamar dove under the water and came up underneath the pair, towing them towards a dangling rope. With great effort, Elanon managed to carry Segoi up the rope and over the railing. The black ship, now listing dangerously, released a loud crack as the severely damaged hull gave way under the strain of the rushing waters. The bow of the ship started to rise as the vessel began its (hopefully) final trip - to the bottom of the sea. The Rhymanth (?) is too close! thought Ildamar. She'll be pulled under by the suction. Thinking quickly, Ildamar once again entered his semi-trancelike state. Again, his form became indistinct, then rapidly expanded. His back became a dark, shiny black, and his stomach a pale white. His snout shortened and sprouted huge, sharp teeth. As his shape once again became clear, Ildamar swam beneath the tossing sea, only his broad, dark back visible above the water. He beat his tail, surging towards the front of the ship. Once there, he flexed his immense flukes, forcing his forebody above the water. He bellowed loudly, frightening Alarond, who was leaning over the side, a distinct greenish cast to his complexion. Suddenly, comprehension dawned on his small, grass-coloured face, and he turned, looking for the anchor. "Here! Ildamar's going to move the boat! Someone help me move this humungous fishhook!" he yelled, stomping his foot in exasperation. Several sailors, resting nearby during a lull in the battle, helped the sprite lift the anchor over the rail, dropping it to the orca waiting below. Ildamar gripped the iron hook in his enormous mouth, and surged forwared with a burst of power. As the rope played out and became taut, the anchor recoiled with amazing force, and Ildamar's jaws exploded in pain. The ship lurched forward, then slowly picked up speed as Ildamar continued to pull. His flukes churning up great white waves of water in his wake, the gargantuan beast exerted his energy reserves to their full extent. After several minutes, he could pull no more. The now half submerged ghost ship was barely visible in the distance behind the ship, and Ildamar was exhausted. He opened his maw, letting the anchor fall, and started swimming towards the drifting Rhymanth. Reaching the ship, he released the form of the great whale, his own body quickly reforming. He grasped the anchor rope, and pulled himself up, hand over hand. About 3 metres above the water, he could pull no more. With a heave-ho!, the remaining crew members leaned into the handle of the great winch holding the anchor. Ildamar started to rise, clingling desperately to the thick rope. As he neared the rail, strong hands grasped his sopping wet jerkin and pulled him onto the deck. He promptly collapsed, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep. [Admin: Ildamar's in no immediate danger, but he'll be out of it for a while. A day, at least.] -- -- }{}{ When I was a little boy, I had but little Wit, Darryl Farr (}{) 'Tis a long time ago, And I have no more yet; The Grey Man }{}{ Nor ever, ever shall, Until that I die, ac169@freenet.carleton.ca (}{) For the longer I live, The more Fool am I. MagicHutchHeader From: fogelinc@pt.Cyanamid.COM (Carl Fogelin) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Storm] Observing the mayhem... Date: 8 Apr 1993 00:33:42 GMT Message-ID: <1pvrt7INNq6h@c3po.jvnc.net> The sky was turning overcast and people were running, looking for shelter, or just boarding up wherever they were, hoping that the building would withold the anger of the storm. Anger was the right word. It had been an age and a day since Crombie Knaks had seen such a fierce storm headin' towards the city. Crombie was down on the wharf, watching the storm build in malevalence. He watched the effort of some townsfolk who were trying to reinforce the seawall with sandbags. Looking back towards the storm, and then at the wall, Crombie just shook his head. THAT storm would just blow over the wall unless something was done to lessen its effects. Sighing heavily, Crombie stood up, flicked his cheroot butt off the pier and headed back towards the "Lucky Grouper", his fishing vessel. There was work to do and sittin' around would not help. With one last look towards the storm, he clambered down into the small boat and headed towards his cabin. ***** About 10 minutes later, Crombie emerged from his cabin dressed in a navy blue jumpsuit, army boots, utility belt strapped around his waist, and a large backpack strapped to his back. On his head he wore a wireless microphone and an old Angels baseball cap. After making sure no one was around, he reached down and removed a simple silver ring from his left hand. Suddenly he looked 40 years younger, his silver hair turned jet-black and his craggy, tired face turned into that of a handsome youth. The image of the "Lucky Grouper" flickered from that of a fishing vessel to some sort of hazy platform. Crombie quickly hopped up onto the dock and strode towards the city. When he was 10 feet away from the "Lucky Grouper", the platform disappeared and the familiar vessel was back. Reaching for a box on his belt, he turned a knob and flicked on the microphone. "CHECK. CHECK. One - two - three. CHECK. This is Crombie Knaks, aka Judd Mercomb, Generica's observer on this date of..." Crombie frowned, started counting on his fingers, and then continued "45181.378 alpha, Scirliun Regestry. A gale is headed into the city, rated 7.4, varying. Have started to observe local reaction and will begin personal survey. Initial analysis indicates 87% likelihood of total destruction if no action taken." "This city shows one of the highest ratings on the Raltov Scale. Anticipate Mage Guild, independents, and Temple influence for controlling situation. Sense presence of avatars, possibly lower-gods. Entropic damper field enabled. Starting to scout and observe." Crombie flicked his mike off, pulled out a box with meters and antennae on it, and started to fiddle with the knobs. He headed off, roughly towards the mage guild. [ ADMIN: Hope the storm doesn't disappear before Crombie really shows off. ] [ If you have a character which employs a magical device or is magical and ] [ plan on coming within 10 feet of Crombie, or attempt to scry him, please ] [ contact me first. ] --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Carl Fogelin (fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com) "All opinions are strictly mine" Up the long ladder and down the short rope, To Hell with King Billy and God bless the Pope. -- traditional MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] [Storm] The laughter continues Message-ID: <1993Apr7.222538.4978@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 7 Apr 93 22:25:38 -0400 [ADMIN] This is just an aside for all of you who do not attend Muskingum College... two are gone, and two are leaving tomorrow for a short Easter break. We will not be posting therefore untill monday and may miss a lot of what will happen to our characters. I am the novice of the group here and I am computer stupid... so if there is a way for the postings to be saved somewhere to be read at a later date I would appreciate it. Another note... Mr. Sinister I am from Rochester and was curious where you reside currently [in or out of school] Darkin had been fighting for what seemed like hours, but the exhileration of it all kept her moving. Now that the Rhymand had moved away from the black ship the fighting seemed to lag a bit. Looking around Darkin was trying to figure out what had happened to all of her companions. Aleric and Kyar were nowhere to be seen, Quaeros was blowing up those un-godly creatures, Elenon was doing his best to patch up Segoi, Ildamar was passed out, Alarond was fighting off creatures as well as sea sickness and Laurenth was currently heading over to Segoi and Elenon. The storm seemed to be building strenght. The winds would have been strong enough to blow Darkin over had she not been holding on to one of the Rhymand's masts. She had suffered a few minor burns, some cuts and a blow to her right shoulder. Physically she was fairly well off, but mentally the laughter still echoed like a scream in an empty cave. Straining against the wind she made her way over to Alarond to help him with what seemed to be the last of the stinking, black oozing half dead creatures. "Looks like you could use some help." Darkin screamed into the wind. "I don't need any help. I can hold my own." was the reply. Darkin knew he was barely holding his dinner let alone six un-dead. She joined in the fighting anyway, why give up a good fight for the sake of anothers pride. "Well, I may need some help..." At least by saying that Darkin could help Alarond without hurting his fragile male ego. Although she knew that statement would haunt her. Laurenth was kneeling next to the wounded Segoi. She clasped her hand around her amulet and slowly blocked out her suroundings and concentrated on the gapeing wounds in the large man's side. Reaching out with her mind she felt the pain and dulled it in his brain. The muscles in his face relaxed and his jagged breathing became a little less sporatic. Next she touched his damaged organs with her thoughts willing them to heal. The patch up was not as the great ones were able to do, but he would live./ The recovery period will be the hardest for him. A man of his size and strength will not like being under the weather. [Where do we go from here?] }Z{ "There is no such thing as darkness, only a failure to see the light." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hibschmn@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Johann Allen Hibschman) Subject: [JOI] Cleanup Message-ID: <1993Apr8.041020.7302@Princeton.EDU> Date: Thu, 8 Apr 1993 04:10:20 GMT The Rhymand was finally being cleared of the undead. Quaeros circulated onboard, dispelling any remaining undead he encountered, except for the last few. These he drained, magically leaching away their indecent lifeforce, until he was surrounded by a flickering red aura. Chuckling in exultation, he looked out to the rapidly-sinking enemy ship and spied the black-robed figure calmly standing on its decks. Why not? Quaeros chanted, reaching out with his spell to drain away some of the life of that mysterious figure. Mistake. Quaeros realized his error as soon as he finished his spell and the frigid life of the black one reached him over the conduit. The lifeforce was _wrong_, unlike even the stolen life animating the undead. The power was cold and unclean, yet he felt something in the depths of his very being rise to accept it. The conduit widened, involuntarily, and more and more of the foe's life flowed into Quaeros, until finally it stopped abruptly. The black robes on the other ship fell to the ground, empty, and Quaeros heard a faint voice in the back of his mind, laughing. Feeling nourished in some dark corner of his soul, Quaeros checked to make sure that he was still holding some of the power taken from the wraiths. His reddish aura was still in place, so he wandered the deck, healing the wounded. As he did, the aura diminished, until finally only a faint remnant remained and he was standing before Segoi. Quaeros knelt and sent the remaining energy into the sorely wounded warrior. Segoi's wounds closed, but not completely. There was not enough power left. Feeling the eyes of Laurenth, Elanon, and the others upon him, Quaeros looked up to address them. "There _are_ a few loopholes. Though I cannot cure from thin air, nothing keeps me from...ah... _redistributing_ life energy. My god, Ronkel, is a patient god. All things come to Him in the end, so as long as the scales of harming and healing balance, there is no difficulty. Segoi's life is still at risk, but I heal quickly. I should be fine by the morning." With that, Quaeros mumbled a quick incantation. Segoi's wounds closed almost completely, and Quaeros toppled to the deck, unconscious. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: aaron@atlantis.uucp (Aaron Humphrey) Subject: [SQ] Hidin' Out Message-ID: <1993Apr8.052912.1038@atlantis.uucp> Date: Thu, 8 Apr 1993 05:29:12 GMT Characters involved: Remi, Vanshar, the Kelsie, Bronwen, Maleiu, Trawm "How much further do we have to go?" Vanshar asked. "The smell is getting to me." The Kelsie refrained from commenting on the Rameshander's own bodily odour and said only, "We can't go out the way I came in. It's not safe, particularly dressed as you are." Remi was wearing the bloodied garb of a prison guard, and Vanshar still only his prison loincloth. "Once we get to the southside, we can get back aboveground. Bronwen is waiting for us. She'll have clothing for Remi, at least." "Good enough," Remi said, cutting off any further objections Vanshar might have had. Thus far the trio had been fairly unmolested, although the Kelsie could sense the presence of Denizar, T-Crocs, orc dogs, giant rats, and other unsavoury sewer denizens. She wondered how much longer their luck would hold. It held long enough. They reached an exit, a ladder up into a darkened alley out of sight from either Dragon's Lane or the Arcade of Unforgotten Heroes where, if all went according to plan, Bronwen and Maleiu would be waiting. "Who first?" Remi asked. "You," the Kelsie said. "Bronwen should be able to recognize you. Vanshar last, because he has the torch." "Nothing doing," the Rameshander said. "Once you're up, the others can trap me down here until the torch burns down and the T-Crocs are nibbling at my heels. You go last." The Kelsie sighed. "All right." *** Bronwen fretted in the alley. "Where >are< they?" she whispered to Maleiu. "Calm yourself, Bronwen," Maleiu whispered back. "There are hundreds of things that could have happened to delay the Kelsie. She might have to wait for changing of the guard, or something similar. Or there might have been trouble in the Gaps." Bronwen sighed and nodded. One part of her was thinking that so much of their plan to rescue Shade was resting on getting Remi to captain their ship. Another part was thinking how much it was putting them all in jeopardy, helping a known pirate to escape from the dungeons of Glorshanned Keep. But by far the largest part was thinking of Remi, and how he had picked her as the trophy of the Arcas... "I hear something," Maleiu whispered. Bronwen listened, and could hear voices arguing. The dark-skinned warrior's hearing was good, but her elven hearing was easily a match for it. Still, he had been paying attention and she had not. One of the voices was definitely the Kelsie's. Another was Remi's. She sighed in relief. But there was a third voice that was unfamiliar... Remi's head was the first to poke out of the hole in the alley. Maleiu looked at Bronwen for confirmation, and she nodded. "Greetings," Maleiu said. "You are Etienne-Remi de Revimer, former captain of the Cote d'Azur, I presume?" "You are well-informed, m'sieu," Remi said, pulling himself out of the hole. "But I do not believe I have made the pleasure of your acquaintance." He squinted, for in the darkness he had trouble even making out Maleiu's shape. "Remi, this is Maleiu, a good friend of mine. He's coming with us." "Ah, yes. The motive behind this endeavour. What exactly is he joining us in pursuit of?" "It's a long story," Bronwen said impatiently. "We have rooms at a nearby inn, which would be a much more comfortable place to talk than here. Can you wait that long?" Remi shrugged. "It would seem quite strange to free us from jail just to gain revenge on us. Your Kelsie could have done that quite easily without bringing us all this way." "Us?" murmured Maleiu. "Us," agreed the unfamiliar voice. Another form, skin darker than Remi's but not the black of Maleiu's, was pulling itself out of the hole. The voice's accent was faintly Rameshander... Then Bronwen recalled Remi's first mate, whatever his name was. "Maleiu, Bronwen," Remi said, "this is my first mate, Vanshar bes-Vanshar. I refused to come unless the Kelsie freed him as well." "It's true," the Kelsie said, rising swiftly out of the hole as Vanshar pulled himself free. "He was quite ornery about it, too. They were in the same cell and everything, too." Bronwen sighed. She didn't trust the Rameshander, but apparently he and Remi were inseparable for the time being. "This will complicate matters," she said. "We only have clothing and supplies for one of you. And this isn't the Low City--walking around in a prison uniform isn't going to be all that inconspicuous. Were you seen?" "They killed a guard," the Kelsie said. "Remi's wearing his uniform, but it's a bit bloody." "Well, a little bit of blood we may be able to get away with," Maleiu said. "It's too dark to make out more than a dark stain, and if anyone asks you had a nosebleed. But we'll have to make sure it's not recognizable as a uniform." A few judicious alterations with a dagger accomplished that. Bronwen took the extra clothes--a loose-fitting tunic and a cloak--from a sack and handed them to Vanshar, who took them ungraciously and donned them with a grimace. "You said something about an inn?" Remi asked. *** None of the inns in Generica had been quite perfectly suited for this plan. The Dragon's Inn was out of the question, being too well-lit and frequented by too many adventurers with suspicious minds. The Drift Inn had seemed a likely prospect, but the makeshift quality of its accommodations ruled it out, not to mention the fact that it was very busy that night. The Net & Trident brought with it the risk of running into a sailor who knew one of the pirates. The Scrappy Ram was out because Verdigren would probably remember Maleiu and all hell would break loose. The Nesters Inn was not too bad, but was a bit far to walk, and the innkeeper too likely to report anything suspicious. That left the Spitting Cobra, whose main drawbacks--being in the Low City and only having Grakma(a.k.a. "sewer rat surprise")on the menu--were offset by the fact that people were rarely noticed there. Or, at least, nobody came forward with any information that they noticed. Certainly not to the Guard. Maleiu had met Trawm through Delmara a week or so earlier, and had earned the half-troll's respect by taking part in a particularly spectacular brawl, and being one of the few standing at the end. Trawm had eagerly extended an open invitation to return anytime. He'd been a bit disappointed when Maleiu had approached him that evening and asked if he could put up a few friends there for the night, strictly hush-hush. After extracting Maleiu's solemn promise to come back for a real wing-ding sometime, he agreed. Maleiu had also gotten a bit of a reputation in the Low City as someone not to be messed with, both from his adventures with the Kron Questors and the brawl at the Spitting Cobra. Thus, their passage was relatively unmolested. Bronwen blushed at a few of the comments that were made from the shadows, but made no outward response. She was secretly pleased at the darkening of Remi's features on hearing them, though. At the Cobra, the main brawl of the evening was just ending, a half-orc with an already-bloody dagger against a couple of drunken sailors being the only ones still fighting. Trawm, upon seeing Maleiu, walked to the door, clubbing the half-orc absently with his fist, whereupon the sailors collapsed on each other and started snoring. "Hey there. These the guys?" "Yup," Maleiu agreed. "It okay if we just take them right up?" "Sure thing. You want something to drink, or some Grakma?" Vanshar and Remi, who had been told about Grakma on the walk over, paled. Bronwen said, "Uh, no thank you, sir. We brought some food of our own." Trawm shrugged, not especially disappointed. "Oh, well. More for me, then." He grinned. *** Once upstairs, Remi said, "Okay. You said something about an explanation?" "And some food?" Vanshar added. Bronwen dug the food out of her sack. "Well, you see, one of our friends was lost at sea. He was on the Cote d'Azur when it went down, you see." Remi's face went still. He'd been mostly unconscious when his ship sank, but he could still see the flames that had crowned it. "I see," he said, his voice flat. "And you want my help in this?" "Don't you see, Remi?" Bronwen said. "We need you to captain the ship. You'll be at sea again, not locked up for the rest of your life in a dungeon." "On one condition," Remi said. "I keep the ship. When we recover your friend, we drop you off-->not< at Generica, but somewhere close by--and we go our own way." Bronwen shrugged. "You'll have to work that out with Radan. It's his ship." "Radan?" Remi hissed. "The wizard?" Bronwen was about to say that Radan wasn't a wizard, but thought better of it. Maybe Remi'd be less inclined to start trouble if he didn't know the limits of Radan's capabilities. "Radan's the one in charge. He knew Shade best. I was the one who suggested that you captain the ship, but he agreed to it. He's a man of honour." All of which she hoped was true--she didn't really know Radan that well, either, but he'd been unfailingly polite to her. "All right. Pending discussion with Radan, we'll help you." "Not good enough," Maleiu said unexpectedly. "We rescued you from prison. You owe us at least a service for that. If Radan is willing to part with his ship, and feels you deserve it, then he can. But you have no right to require it of us." "No right, he says," Vanshar said bitterly. "Listen, blackie-boy, whose fault is it that we got into the dungeon in the first place? Who burned our ship and got us captured?" "Who attacked us without provocation?" Bronwen shot back. "You attack us, we capture you. That's even. We rescue you from prison, you help us rescue our friend. That's also even. We can part ways after that--if you wish. We've risked a lot for you. We could all join you in prison if we get caught. I think we deserve a little consideration for that." Remi barked a laugh. "The woman's right. It does balance out, in a strange way. All right. If nothing else, after this, we'll have our freedom. But if you turn on us when the job's done, and put us back in prison, we'll see you in Hell." "Agreed," Maleiu said. He extended his hand in the gesture that the people on this continent used to close an agreement of honour. Remi spit in his hand and waited while Maleiu drew his hand back and did likewise. Then they shook hands. Maleiu extended his hand to Vanshar as well, but the Rameshander shook his head. "Remi's my captain. Any oaths he swears, are mine as well." Until inconvenient, he thought. He was already full of plans to take the boat from them as soon as the opportunity arose. "How do you know this Shade friend of yours is alive?" Remi asked. "No idea," Bronwen said. "I don't even know if Radan knows. He just can't bear the thought that we left Shade behind, dead or alive. Besides, Shade was pretty mysterious. Who knows what he's capable of." "How many are coming?" "Let's see..." Bronwen ticked them off on her fingers. "Me, Maleiu, Mistletoe, Radan, Angus, maybe Merol...you two...and, of course, whoever Radan gets as crew." "A crewed ship," Vanshar said. Better and better. "So it's a real ship, then," Remi said. "Might make it easier to pass the Seaguards' scrutiny, but will make it easier to escape. Besides, I heard gossip from one of the Seaguards that captured us, that the Wyeriun is a bit distracted lately. All the better for us." He yawned. "Now I don't know about you, but I could use some rest. I've been getting a bit behind, the past few days." There were two rooms available. Remi and Vanshar took one, and Maleiu and Bronwen another. Maleiu lay awake on the floor for a long time, thinking of Mistletoe. Bronwen lay awake in her bed for a long time, thinking of Remi. Remi lay awake in his bed for a long time, thinking of Bronwen. Vanshar dropped off to sleep on the floor almost instantly. He knew better than to let love cloud his mind. -- ---Alfvaen(1948 Books, 1097 Albums, And Counting) "The word 'semen' is included in the word 'basement'." --Gooley Current Album--Belinda Carlisle:Belinda Current Read--Marion Zimmer Bradley:Sword & Sorceress MagicHutchHeader Date: Thu, 8 Apr 1993 09:19:51 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93098.091951ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] Demonic Intervention Even with magical aid, carrying the Gutt Man through the streets was an awkward and somewhat tiring process. Fortunately, Darvos remarked, none of the few people around seemed to pay them any mind. They probably thought the Gutt Man was in a drunken sleep, a common condition for Low City denizens, and thus paid them no more heed than anyone else. Darvos paused to look back at Lissa and Little Rat. The two girls were talking as if they were old friends. And in a sense he supposed they were, both living most of their lives in this area. Slightly behind them, and off to Lancos' side, was a yellow tailless cat, one Darvos had seen near the alleyway with the Gutt Man, but had disregarded then. "I think we're being followed." he said, an accent on the "r" sound per usual. Lancos was momentarily worried, but that passed. After all, it was the girls that had been set up as rear guard -- and what a good idea _that_ had been, to allow them to feel the correct amount of importance --, and they hadn't given the warning. The warrior almost laughed when he realized to whom Darvos referred. "Oh, she's here to protect me." he said sarcastically. Bast raised her head as if to say "You got _that_ right." When Lancos had his attention to things behind him, he saw the two girls talking, and caught snippets of their conversation. It was an exchange of adventures and awe: Lissa at Little Rat's bravery, Little Rat at Lissa's living quarters. Lancos felt sorry for the Little Rat, who had never really known the true definition of the word "home", and apparently no one she could even pretend to call "family". And worse yet in his eyes was the possibility that he could do little about it. He wondered if he could correctly take care of Bast right now with the adventuring career he didn't yet want to give up, let alone another human being. Perhaps time would tell. * * * * In a nearby but private spot, BBD pondered the situation. 'The problem, per usual, isn't the lack of choices, but the correct path to take. 'One way would be to simply blast the entire group. But I need no villian's school to know it's better to _use_ these readily-provided materials; both I and my minions have plans for them. And besides, such a move would bring the unwanted attention of _someone_ on my heels. 'I could also allow them to take this "Gutt Man" to jail, and allow them that satisfaction. But it's better to use this fellow as a sculptor would his tool. And to break him out of the Keep, magic would be called for, and people would suspect it wasn't "just" Gutt Man they had to deal with. So let someone else do _that_ sort of thing... 'Instead, I shall take brief control over Gutt Man, and wake him up... Hmm -- he's easy to manipulate, especially whilsty unconscious. I can also get some information from him, which confirms that the older girl is whom I seek. Now, after I cast a spell or two, the stage will be set.' Still carried, Gutt Man suddenly found himself awake and aware of what to do. A hiss suddenly came from the back of the ranks. Lancos shifted his view to see what might have grabbed Bast's attention. He was thus surprised when the Gutt Man's hand pounded his back, initially gripped as if he was still holding his knife -- which had of course been removed earlier -- and then extending to a shove. Lancos and Darvos were both pushed forward due to the force and their lack of preparedness. It was perhaps only luck combined with their dexterity that prevented a collision. The Gutt Man started towards them, as if to find his weapon. 'No...no. Do what I wish -- you shall be rewarded...' BBD commanded. And like a zombie, Gutt Man turned away from the quickly-recovering duo and faced the girls, who looked at Gutt Man with unbridled terror. As the adults finally faced their foe, the Gutt man grabbed Lissa -- whose screams and squirms couldn't fight against strength -- and headed towards an alley. The group wasn't about to let this happen unchallenged, however. The Little Rat reestablished some of her courage at her newfound friend's kidnapping, and tried to trip Gutt Man, by diving in his path. Moving with a speed that she didn't think possible, the Gutt Man jumped high over her and ran in a blur Lancos fired his bow and Darvos cast a spell. Both hit, but neither seemed to stop the Gutt Man for more than a second. Nevertheless, the group showed determination despite this sudden lack of success, and followed after the Gutt Man. 'Interesting,' BBD thought to himself, 'So these _are_ of the adventurer subtype, as I figured. Though they do not compose a threat to me, I shall be my normal cautious and deceptive self, lest I bring some faction of this town down upon me. But I know others plan to gain power while Great Mother is weak, so by the same means I cannot be too slow in using my tools. And speaking of which, it is time to speak with my newest pawn. 'You see?' the thoughts of BBD entered Gutt Man's mind. 'A little dispelling of that other's magic, some added strength... speed... "reason", shall we say, for you can work wonders. I'd bet none of them have any idea what truly happened. I know you enjoy your powers; all you have to do to keep and increase them is do a little favor for me...' The Gutt Man nodded agreeement quickly and decisively. His crazed mind figured he had caught the attention of a god who approved of his "good deeds". For that was how _he_ saw it; he was freeing the children from their suffering and sending them someplace better. 'Good. You know Skimer's store, just southeast of Ratty's? Take her there, and await further instructions.' Then when Gutt Man started off, BBD switched to private thoughts. 'Excellent. The people with that girl no doubt think the Gutt Man escaped on his own. And yes, they will be after her, but they won't reach her until after the ceremony. The ceremony that would put her -- and the Gutt Man, though why tell him that? -- totally receptive to my will. 'Then _let_ them have her back, until such time when things cool down a bit. When most of it is forgotten, _then_ shall I -- and she -- strike.' MagicHutchHeader From: c164-ez@po.berkeley.edu (Chua Hak Lien) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [RATS!] WHAT? THOSE GUYS ARE STILL HERE???? Date: 8 Apr 1993 14:46:15 GMT Message-ID: <1q1drn$fq1@agate.berkeley.edu> [ Uhh.. yes, we know it's been a while, but all of us have been busy.. and.. and... oh, never mind... ] .. as our brave heroes battle against the foul T-Crocs.... The sorcerer was plotting away. "Pah! Next time, I will have to use a larger scale!" He said, as he moved the triangle along the x-y axis. Then the room shook. "........". The mage shuddered.. "What a disapointment you are to me!" "Oh master, I know, I know. I am sorry, master, but I was outnumbered!" "And it appears unclothed, as well..." "Well, yes. Don't tell anyone that I'm wearing the same pair of undies as I was yesterday,you know, those blasted idiots took my other pair..." "SILENCE! You must teach these bunch of idiots a lesson! I will supply you a familiar to aid you against them!" "A familiar? A f-f-f-amiliar? Why, THANK YOU, master! THANK YOU! Could it be a nice quasit, or an imp, master? Maybe even a small fire- drake..." There was a * POOF *, and white smoke covered the room. The mage coughed. "There it is. It will aid you against them well!" "Thank you, thank you, master! Thank you!", the mage looked around. "Uhh.. master?", he looked up at the vision. "Where is my most precious one?" "Why, he is at your feet! Guard it well!" "Oh, thank you, master, thank you.", the mage said, brushing his burnt beard and scratching the plasters that covered his face. "Ahh.. my own familiar.. now where is it.. now where..." * RIBBIT * The mage came face to face with a small green toad that blew up in cheeks in greeting. "A TOAD, MASTER? A .." The stare from his deity prevented further argument. "Yes, anything?", said the god. "Nuuuu... No.. master, how generous. A toad! Just the kind of familiar I had always wanted! No longer will I live in fear of flies, or seek for warts! Thank you, master. You are most kind and mighty.." The Dark Master smiled. "Very well then, be off. The party is off to catch a rat, so plan accordingly...." Back to the party.. [whoops. that's it for now... ] Higar ----- MagicHutchHeader From: rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI][Storm] The black ship goes down... Message-ID: <1993Apr8.105958.6772@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 8 Apr 93 10:59:58 CDT Kyar saw Segoi hit the water, wounded, and prepared to dive in after the giant, but then saw Elanon and Ildamar help him back aboard the Rhymand. He and Aleric had their hands full against the undead, especially with the combination of the badly listing vessel and the fury of the storm. Kyar felt a jolt tense through the hull of the black ship, and looked again towards the Rhymand. Somehow, the Rhymand began to pull away from the black ship!! The few remaining lines holding the ships together grew taught and began to snap, and the listing of the black ship grew to an even greater angle. Kyar started to get a little tense. "Aleric!!!!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, "we have to get off this ship NOW!!!" Aleric, in the meantime had nearly fought his way through to the black robed figure that seemed to be controlling the undead, by simply hacking the creatures into so many peices that it took quite a while for them to regenerate. Just as he reached the figure however, it collapsed into a pile of black robes (ADMIN: Courtesy of Quaeros). Aleric quickly moved to the railing, grabbing at one of the few ropes still grappled to the Rhymand's rigging. He grabbed the rope with one hand, slashed it with his blade, and repeated his earlier performance, swinging out over the sea to the deck of the Rhymand. Kyar, however, was not faring quite so well. He was hemmed in by the undead, and could not find a rope near enough to him to reach in time. He knew he would have to jump again, but could not concentrate enough to draw in the necessary power for such a feat with all of the undead attacking him. He could draw on the Phadra at least a bit, however, even in the midst of combat. He did so, and jumped, not for the Rhymand, but up, into the rigging of the black ship. He hung for a second on a tattered rope, then managed to pull himself up onto the crosspiece of the mast. He noticed with dismay that the Rhymand had pulled to nearly fifty feet away from the black ship. Even from this added height, Kyar didn't know if he could make the jump, even with the adrenaline burst the power of the Phadra could give him. What else could he do? He reached out and drew in all of the power he could, then leaped from the rigging of the sinking vessel. Even as he jumped, there was a loud splitting noise, and the black ship broke up and slipped beneath the waves. Several of the mindless undead leaped after Kyar, falling into the sea and sliding beneath the dark waves. Kyar didn't think he was going to make it... he reached out... and barely caught the aft rail of the Rhymand with his free hand. He screamed in pain as all of the muscles and ligaments in his shoulder ripped out of place, and he nearly lost conciousness. Somehow he managed to hang on, and cry out "Help me!!!", just as his grip began to fail... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan) Subject: Re: ADMIN: A keeper has been found Message-ID: <1993Apr8.174015.4933@midway.uchicago.edu> References: <1993Apr3.025443.21426@midway.uchicago.edu> Date: Thu, 8 Apr 1993 17:40:15 GMT ...sage has graciously offered to be the new keeper of the Atlas and Map of the Known Lands. Submissions should now be sent to pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au Thank you to everyone who contributed to the Atlas during my tenure as its keeper. Special thanks go to Aaron Humphrey, the father of the document, and to Thomas Kettenring, who created the Dragons Inn ASCII graphic and improved the ASCII map. -- Dennis Brennan djb6@midway.uchicago.edu MagicHutchHeader From: jcp@bazooka.usacs.rutgers.edu (Jonathan Petersen) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Ga] The Storm Hits Home: Hawksholme Message-ID: Date: 8 Apr 93 18:49:06 GMT Zebron led the group to the mouth of the cavern. As each walked out onto the steep trail leading down the mountain, each was overcome by the sheer beauty of the picturesque view. From here they could see for miles. And as they watched, they saw a terrible storm rushing through the skies of Generica. Dark, evil looking clouds spoke of their power in thunderous claps as lightning played across their black forms, occasionally spilling forth onto the ground as monsterous arcs of energy. The clouds were approaching with increasing speed, but behind the first clouds was a sea of blackness in the heavens, letting all know that this storm would not be over any time soon. "We best get inside," cautioned Alaric, and none contradicted the wise words of the ranger. One by one they turned around and headed back into Jaru's cave until only Khisanth and Zebron stood watching the awesome spectacle before them. "I hope Mathew is alright," murmured Khisanth, half to her drow companion and half to herself. "I'm sure he is," the dark elf replied, "His path led him elsewhere, for now. I'm sure we will meet him again. And perhaps we will all be a bit wiser from our separate journies." Dusk settled himself against Zebron's neck as the wind picked up. The storm was coming closer. "I hope you're right," said Khisanth as she turned to join the others inside. "I hope so, too," muttered Zebron. The dark elf stood and watched the storm for a few more minutes, enjoying the wonderous sight that he would never have seen had he remained in his native Underdark, deep in the bowels of a far away world. But that memory, combined with the scene before him, brought a vivid image to the drow: the mountain range where his home was, where he first emerged onto the surface, surrounded by black clouds of energy. The dark elf did not understand exactly what the image meant, only that he should return soon to investigate. Slowly Zebron turned and entered the cave. As he did so, Mardan, Brent, and Alaric closed the sturdy wooden door and barred it with a stout beam. The drow could not help a smile from coming to his face. Here they were, holing themselves up against a storm in a cave with a powerful hermit who obviously knew more about what was going on than they did. The proverbial rock and a hard place? Or maybe out of the frying pan and into the fire? Whatever it was, Zebron was being forced to choose between the lesser of two evils. To a renegade drow, he was most comfortable with the situation. Zebron walked to the small fire where some rock lizards were being roasted and Jaru told his tale to the random cadence of the crackling of the fire as each warmed himself against the chill winds that heralded the great storm. -jak MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan) Subject: [Mrs. Cludne's Boarding House] A traveler's tale... Message-ID: <1993Apr8.195136.10314@midway.uchicago.edu> References: <1993Apr8.105958.6772@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: Thu, 8 Apr 1993 19:51:36 GMT It was an ordinary Wednesday evening at Mrs. Cludne's boarding house at the foot of Merchant's Hill. Guests lounged on the porch, sipping chilled Rameshander tea and enjoying the springtime breezes blowing off of the Ceruputhon. Less prudential visitors gathered in the parlour to participate in the hostess' legendary card games. The house, sometimes known colloquially as "The hole in the wall" for its peculiar geometric relationship with the neighboring estate, was a magnet for out-of-town merchants, especially those of intermediate means who eschewed the elegant lodgings near the Plaza or disdained the filthy dives a few blocks from the wharf. It was a meeting place for those purposeful wanderers who scanned the ports and posts of the world in search of elusively alluring commodities and trinkets. Sitting casually on the porch railing studying the streetlights on the opposite bank of the river was one Aloysius Herod. His apparel was a cunning synthesis of the local Generic fashions and his native Alasyrian. His breeches were loose, and tucked into the top of his boots in the northern manner, but his shirt and vest were close-fitting. On his head he wore the tricorn hat which was beginning to become popular in the maritime towns, and his hair was pulled back into a ponytail. With the conclusion of the card game a light supper was served. Mrs. Cludne's credo was never to go to bed on an empty stomach. Aloysius assisted with the setting of the table, apparently igniting the candles with a snap of his fingers. "Do ye know a way of producing a flame from your bare hands, ye man of Alasir?" inquired one fascinated Specifican sea-captain. Aloysius grinned boyishly and displayed a pair of rings which he wore on his right hand. "These rings act like a small tinderbox and can throw a spark. Quite a useful little device. I picked them up in a village in Vascondy by the name of Evermeadow." A bearded Parahander caravan-master interjected, "But what use is there of such toys when the simplest of enchantments may duplicate the effects dependably and without need of encumbering your hand so?" "That, good sir," Aloysius responded, "is precisely the point. Dependably, you say? Today, perhaps. But I have learned that the powers of spellcraft are derived from an exhaustible source." Notwithstanding the incredulous eyes of his audience, he continued. "Imagine, if you will, a river turning a waterwheel. Where does the water come from? Perhaps a lake upstream. The lake is filled by rainfall. And the rain, as sages have explained, comes from vapourized water which is dried out, like puddles in the sun. "Now suppose that our waterwheel withdraws some water from the river, and somehow transforms it into something else. Then the cycle of vapour and rain, river and sea is deprived of that much water. Build more waterwheels and withdraw more water, and eventually you will have a drought. "And that, good friends, is what appears to be happening to the akasa of the magical arts. Every spell, every enchantment removes some of the akasa whenceforth it is lost forever. In time, all of the great enchantments and dweomers we know will fade and be lost. "If you will be patient with me, allow me to elaborate on my remarks with an illustrative anecdote. In the land of Rameshan they have a number of old legends and stories concerning the heroic exploits of their Ahmeyan ancestors and other such tales as can be crafted to give the people a sense of historical destiny. One of these tales describes the life of a hero known as A'Maan the Navigator, a sailor who plied the waters of the Great Gulf in the ancient days. A'Maan had a companion by the name of Cyrus, who was his first mate. Cyrus carried with him a bell which he would ring when there was an important instruction or warning to be conveyed to the crew of the ship. In a fierce storm, the doing of the malevolent god Bhaelros, poor Cyrus was washed overboard and lost to the sea. "Later in the story, A'Maan is shipwrecked alone on a remote island in the sea. He explores the island and finds his old companion Cyrus still alive. But Cyrus had been beguiled by the hag Aviraa, and had taken her as a mate. The hag had enchanted the bell to lure seamen to the island, where Cyrus would kill them to be eaten by his fearsome wife. And so Cyrus tried to capture his old captain and chased him around the island. But A'Maan found the bell, and pulled out the clapper of the bell. He uttered a plea to the sea-goddess and filled the bell with seawater, as a cup, then struck it on the rocky shore of the island. The bell sounded, louder and sweeter than ever, and Cyrus awoke from his enchanted trance of submission at once. "At any rate, this legendary bell became reverend as a symbol of the miraculous intercession of the Rameshander sea goddess. Later the bell was stolen during the Parahander wars and found itself in a number different hands- some which honored the bell and some which merely coveted it as a thing of power. "It is a modest bell, about this big," he said, holding his hands about a foot apart. "Here, it looks like this." From a fold in his cloak Aloysius produced a clapperless brass bel and displayed it to the guests assembled. "This is Cyrus's Bell. I came upon it whilst in the treasure chamber of a notorious collecter of other people's possessions. I intend to return this artifact to the temple of the Sea Goddess in Rameshan, for nor is it mine to possess. "I took the liberty of showing this bell to an artificer of magical items of my acquaintance. He assured me that it is indeed the genuine Bell, and that at one time it did possess fantastic power. But over time its powers have faded, until now it is only this device of historical and religious interest. "So you see, friends, that magic is impermanent, and the fantastic items which we hear about in stories did exist, but have become decrepit and powerless over time. And who hears about new items of great power being created? Nay, truly great magic of the scale of this Bell and the other legendary artifacts is a thing of the past. And, in time, even the more ordinary magics will too come to pass." -- Dennis Brennan djb6@midway.uchicago.edu MagicHutchHeader Date: Thu, 8 Apr 1993 13:37:41 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93098.133741ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [L&S][Storm] Shoring Up the Walls Scene: The city of Generica is under attack by the most wicked storm that the multiple writers of APDI could describe. In one of the wealthier sections of the city, stands a young human in a grey cloak. The wind is whipping about him furiously making his long blong hair frame his head like some insane crackling aura. Erik spread his arms wide and bent the forces of probability with a thrust of his finely tuned will. Air was his element and it WOULD obey him. A gust later and he was tumbling upward through the air, blown by the storm's own force, across the waters, to its heart. True, it wasn't the most graceful way to fly, but we all make due with what we have. Once he was away from the prying eyes of a million Genericans, the forces were easier to manipulate. His wreckless tumble smoothed into a bumpy flight. Now stable, he continued to the center of the storm. Bolts of lightening crashed around him, barely avoiding his prone form, but they did miss and that was all that counted. He could waste no extra energy on finesse. To his suprise, he found that he was not the only being in the storm's midst. He spotted two others below who seemed to be taunting it, making it waste its energy on them instead of the city. He paused for a moment to admire their chaotic attitude and a smile crossed his young face. The two rode the waves, a matched pair of warrior types, one blond, the other red. For a moment, he worried, until he picked up a net of protection runes covering them. Yes, they could take care of themselves. Silently, he wished them luck and moved on. He flew on, dodging and redirecting the storm. He came across another being. This one was a woman whose body seemed to be made of the very clouds them- selves. She crackled with lightening energy absorbed from the storm. When Erik approached, she smiled, waved, and absorbed a bolt that was heading his way. Erik waved back. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering about Generica. It seemed to pull strange creatures as a magnet pulls iron filings. Now near the center of the storm, Erik began his work. He subtly shifted the wind patterns, a fraction of the storm against itself. Winds met winds; two powerful walls of air crashed together and were thus nullified. Of course a side effect of this was increased lightening from the air's friction. The storm chose to throw these bolts at the two figures below. Those who teased it, not fearing its might. They fell harmless against the towering waves and with a brief smell of ozone, they were discharged. Erik continued to work for half an hour, taking a small chunk of the strength out of the hulking mass of the Storm. Afterwards, he was exhausted and forced to retreat to the relative safety of land. No, he had not been able to turn it away, but maybe he had saved a life or two, and that was enough. --------------- In the Low City, the storm was now at its full fury. Luthor had been up and down the docks fusing bags of sand as best he could. Now, with the storm threatening his own life, he decided to seek shelter and perhaps help others at the same time. He headed toward one of the temples close by and found, to his horror, that they were letting no one else inside. As he thought about his options, he saw what he considered to be a miracle. A group of priests, a priestess, and the crowd began chanting. As they did, they wove a protection about the street itself. Still, there was not enough room for everyone in the area, so Luthor called out, "TO THE SPITTING COBRA!" ------------- Trawm was sulking. Most of the patrons of the Spitting Cobra had left to seek shelter in safer areas. He had asked them to stay, and some would have, until the Sea Guard came in and said that it wasn't safe. That had been the end of it. Anyone who could walk left and those that were passed out couldn't pay for more drinks, so business was bad. On top of all of that, the ancient walls of the tavern began to creak and moan alarmingly. Never before had he seen such a storm. He shuddered thinking how powerful it must have been BEFORE it broke through the Sea Wards. For a while, he had walked up and down the shore, helping build up the walls, but when the storm REALLY hit, there was nothing more he could do. So now, he stood alone behind his bar, waiting for his home to be destroyed. A knock on the door heralded a visitor. Trawm bounded over the counter, thinking optomistically that he would make a coin or two from a confused patron seeking shelter. The sight that greeted him made his old heart skip a beat. A man with golden skin in a BLACK cloak was standing in the doorway. Behind him was a crowd of at least a hundred desperate looking people. "Master Trawm, are you open?" asked the man in BLACK. Trawm was overcome by shock and couldn't answer. "Please sir, we have no where else to turn," Luthor pleaded. "Sure thing. Yinz guys cin come in. Da Spittin' Cobra is open!" Trawm shouted. A cheer rose from the crowd and they quickly filled the place. Luthor took a seat at the center table and pulled a black gem from his cloak. Then, while staring into its depths, he said something in a voice that carried above the crowd and the background noise of the storm, "THESE WALLS COULD HOLD!" There he sat, unmoving and silent, lost in the power of the gem and fighting the power of the storm with the force of his will. And those in the Spitting Cobra were safe. ------------------- Love and Peace and Friends In Need, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kmwilcox@iastate.edu (Kevin M Wilcox) Subject: [MrB][Storm] The rescue Message-ID: Keywords: storm mister boddy Date: Thu, 8 Apr 1993 21:40:55 GMT [ADMIN: I guess the storm's over, so this starts shortly before its end after, oh, about 120 hours.] The alarm beeped and Dana arose. "What? Is it my turn?" he mumbled. Evan nodded. "Wake him. He wants to try to move this time." Boddy sat up on his own. He looked around the cramped cave, staggered out, and stood on the beach below. "Come down here!" he called. "There's blue on the horizon!" The others gathered their gear and followed him. "I've been exploring the beach, and it seems to me we're south of Generica." "I came to the same conclusion," Evan agreed. Dana tossed Boddy his bag and they began hiking along the shore. After several hours of walking northeast, the beach turned east. They could see something in the distance, but it was still many hours away. The rain was a great deal lighter, but they were completely soaked and tired and hungry. As evening and night fell, they continued to trudge forward, more from stubborn determination than anything else. The lights of town were distinguishable when Boddy passed out. The other two paused and tried to lift him on their shoulders, but there was just too much height difference. Dana held him on his back, and Evan walked along behind. Then they saw it. A large rowboat with about a dozen men was coming toward them along the shoreline. "Hail, there!" one of the men in the boat called. It came to a stop near them, and Dana and Evan weakly ran into the water at it, dropping Boddy, who moaned as he landed. Dana and Evan lunged into the boat, tearing into a basket of fruit. Two of the sailors helped Boddy to it, and he started eating faster than the others, grabbing pieces from them. The sailors heaved their legs into the boat, and it was almost to Generica before the three had consumed all the food and fresh water and noticed the rest of the universe. "How did you know to come for us?" Boddy asked. "Someone spotted you from a distance. For a while, they weren't sure what you were. How long had you been trapped in the storm?" one of the rescuers returned. Evan snuck a peek at his watch. It was almost dawn. "Almost six days. Three on a lifeboat, two in a small cave, and one walking." "Heck of a day to skip breakfast," Boddy quipped. There was some nervous laughter. The last bit of the trip was spent recounting the journey from the lightning strike to the walk. They were careful to avoid mention of why they were on the boat, saying only that they were on their way to Generica from across the sea. Once in port, they waved to the sailors and went to meet the one person they knew in town, Eustace Crimpin. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* / K. M. Wilcox/ \Mister Boddy \ *-*-*-*-*-*-*-* "So, Professor Jenkins!... My old nemesis!... *-*-*-*-*-*-*-* \ We meet again, but this time the advantage is mine! Ha! Ha! Ha!" / *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: bdavis@pepper.cray.com (Brent Davis {x67000 CF/ENG}) Subject: Ezrin: Back on his...foot Message-ID: <1993Apr4.143454.5239@walter.cray.com> Date: 4 Apr 93 14:34:54 CDT ADMIN: Ezrin's last post was a couple months ago. In the meantime he's been recovering from his lost leg suffered in the Seawatch thread. (Posting summaries about that seemed a little too dull, even for Ezrin!) --- Being bedridden for all these weeks had taken its toll on Ezrin. As the day wore on, he'd found himself sitting frequently on any available bench, or chair he could find. His armpits were raw from the use of crutches, and even his good leg was beginning to ache. Earlier in the day while he was taking a breather, he'd seen an elderly man, also with only one leg, easily hopping down the street with a cane. Something in that sight both inspired and appalled Ezrin. For though it indicated that with some effort, even his out-of-shape physique might overcome the recent loss of a leg, he also saw himself in that man - old, unwanted, unneeded. Those thoughts of uselessness had haunted him relentlessly for the last several weeks. What good was he? With all that extra time to do nothing but think, he'd taken a long look at his life trying to justify his continuing existence. Those same two voices that had always been in his mind argued relentlessly - one preaching hope and the other hopelessness. Was it the same for all people? Or was Ezrin somehow different? Half of him wanted to be different - special, while the rest of him longed to be the same - accepted. Whatever the answer, the conflict raged on inside Ezrin's head. In a few of the more intense mental battles, he had gone so far as to try to smother himself. He found that no matter how hard he tried, he always lifted the pillow too early. He'd even tried killing himself with a sharp knife, but again something held him back. All he could manage to do was to make a shallow wound in his chest. *Wimp,* the hopeless voices shouted. He hated that word, as it had been tagged on him ever since he was a child. Was there no escape from his anguish? He looked up at the darkening skies, and decided to continue on. With great effort he stood and hobbled on toward his destination. At least walking, or rather hobbling, left less time for his mind to battle. Within a few minutes, he'd reached his destination, Olter's Cloth & Woodcraft. Inside, Ezrin was immediately impressed by the detail and fine carving on the crafts that Olter's had for sale. He could see why this was the place recommended by the Seaguard's for making various wooden odds & ends... ...including peglegs. -- / bdavis@cray.com | T | Given that 6 x 9 = 42, \ ( Cray Research, Inc. | 3 | then the Universe must ) \ Chippewa Falls, WI | D | be a base 13 function. / MagicHutchHeader From: bdavis@pepper.cray.com (Brent Davis {x67000 CF/ENG}) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Ezrin: Peglegs and More Message-ID: <1993Apr6.130033.15198@walter.cray.com> Date: 6 Apr 93 18:00:32 GMT "Can I help you?," the woman asked. Ezrin was startled, not having seen or heard her approach. He must have been looking too closely at the products to notice her. As he turned to face her, he fumbled for words, "...uh...I'm here to get a...uh...peg... pegleg fitting." He tried to close his jaw, but he was sure it was still somewhere on the floor. She was gorgeous and probably about his same age. Ezrin never had been very good at impressing women, and he was probably failing about the same way this time around. "My name is...Ez...Ezrin... Ezrin U'tharnus," he stuttered. At least he'd managed to get out his name without mispronouncing it. "Just one moment, let me check our appointments." She turned and walked through a curtained doorway. Ezrin turned to look at a carved plate, but all he could see was the woman's face, and her long black hair. He then realized he was breathing heavily, and his heart was pounding. Something didn't feel quite right...his vision narrowed...he felt dizzy. All he could think of was to grab onto a nearby clothing rack to stabilize himself. As he passed out, his grasp toppled the entire rack onto himself causing a loud thud as the bars hit the floor. The clothing hanging on it was the only thing that cushioned Ezrin from the blow. He lay there for several seconds trying to figure out what had happened. He must have been even more out of shape than he'd thought. "Are you all right?" The embarrassment began to register as Ezrin looked up at the beautiful woman. "What happened?" "I haven't been feeling very well. It's my first day up and around since...I lost it," he stated, pointing to the stump below his right knee. "Sorry about this. Let me help pick it up." Ezrin tried pushing the rack upwards, but it was far too heavy for him to lift. "Oh no, that's quite all right." She grasped the clothing bar and easily tilted it back into place. Ezrin was shocked. Either he was really weak, or there had to be some type of a leverage advantage for her lifting position. He seriously hoped it was the latter. Luckily, only a few of the garments had fallen onto the floor. As Ezrin struggled to his feet, he spied a black cloak laying near him, and picked it up. He looked at it briefly, wondering how it might appear on him, but then handed it to the clerk. "I think you should try that on," she suggested, eyeing the cloak and then Ezrin. "Haven't you heard about the big storm coming through? You'll need a good cloak like that if you're planning on going anywhere over the next few days." "Really, I just need the pegleg. I've got a cloak back home." 'You really should pay more attention to the weather forecasts,' added one of the voices. Ezrin proceeded to try on the leg, and noticed a few points of discomfort as he tried to walk with it. "It feels too high in the front, like it's cutting into the skin right here." Ezrin pulled off the artificial limb and indicated where the problem was. "Let me get another one for you," she said and headed back through the curtains. Ezrin waited for a few moments, and then decided that it might take a while for her to find a replacement. Allowing his curiosity to get the best of him, he re-attached the leg and then donned the black cloak. Then he wandered over to a full-length mirror and gazed at himself. 'Wow!' *All you need now is a hook and an eyepatch and you'll look like a menacing pirate.* That thought scared him. Losing one limb was bad enough. He'd hate to lose any more. "It really becomes you!" The clerk had returned with the other pegleg. Ezrin hurriedly removed the cloak and the other limb. "Just thought I'd see how it looked. It's really nice, but I'm afraid I can't afford it." As it was, the only reason he was getting the pegleg was because it was covered by the Seaguard's for loss-of-limb in the line-of-duty. After attaching the other leg, Ezrin tried walking on it. It felt much better, although he realized it would take time for him to grow used to it. "Yes, this one fits quite well." "Now, there are several specialized models in this size. They offer secret compartments, pop-out blades, quick tip exchangement for differing surfaces and so forth," she stated very matter-of-factly. "If you'd like to take a look, I can show them to you." It was all so fascinating: secret compartments, spring-loaded points, and everything else. 'Why in the world do you need all of that stuff?' one of the voices questioned. "It sounds great, but really, I think that this one will suit me just fine." "I've got an idea. The purchase order will cover all of these other more expensive models as well, so why don't we use the difference for that cloak." She smiled and winked at Ezrin. "uh...that seems kind of underhanded. I'd hate to get you or anyone into trouble." "Don't worry - they never check on these forms that closely." "All right then. Thanks a lot. You've been really helpful." Ezrin turned and started walking out, then had an idea. He stopped and turned his head part way. "Could I...uh..." His throat tightened. "Could I take you out for lunch sometime to pay you back and all?" There - he'd said it. He finished turning around to face her and hear her response, but she was already gone. "Oh well." He never liked to deal with rejection anyway. *You're both better off this way.* This time the hopeless voice was probably right. Ezrin walked out of the shop, and donned his new cloak as the rains began to fall. There was no way he'd make it all the way home in this weather. 'Looks like you're going back to work a day early,' the other voice observed as he proceeded to head toward Leviathan tower. -- / bdavis@cray.com | T | Given that 6 x 9 = 42, \ ( Cray Research, Inc. | 3 | then the Universe must ) \ Chippewa Falls, WI | D | be a base 13 function. / MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: bdavis@pepper.cray.com (Brent Davis {x67000 CF/ENG}) Subject: [STORM] Ezrin: First Wave Message-ID: <1993Apr8.124605.11428@walter.cray.com> Date: 8 Apr 93 12:46:04 CDT After falling twice, Ezrin wisened up and went back to relying on his crutches. The middle of a rainstorm was no place for learning how to walk on with a pegleg! By the time he'd reached the gate to Leviathan tower, the showers had increased to heavy rains and the skies were thouroughly darkened. As he approached the posted seaguard, he drew back his hood and smiled. "Grav!," he saluted. "Did they transfer you to this shift?" "Ezrin!? We didn't expect ya back 'til tomorrow. We're all working double-duty with the storm and all. They can probably use a hand up in the Hall." Ezrin began to walk by him. "Hey, that's a great cloak. Really looks good on ya. Must 'a cost a bit, eh?" "Thanks, I got a good deal." He started toward the cloak room to drop it off, but a voice in his head whispered, %Leave it on.% Was that the hopeful or hopeless voice? Either way, he liked the idea of making a big entrance with his new black cloak. Ezrin turned and continued on up to the steps leading up to the halls. He was just now realizing how long it had been since he'd last set foot in the tower. Not much had changed - same decor and the same faces in the halls. The noticeable difference was the charged atmosphere of scurrying guards and raised voices. Then again maybe this was normal and just never happened on his assigned midnight shift. Passing through the arched doorway into the Hall of Nautica brought back a rush of memories. The last time he'd been here there'd been that strange sign on the Chart. He'd gotten transported along with the Wyeriun and ended up in the sea. That's where he'd lost his leg. As he stood near the passage reminiscing, another familiar guard entered. "Ezrin!," the supervisor exclaimed. "Glad you could make it back. We could really use the help. How'd you like to man an open Telemirror?" Jolriq spoke quickly, his voice seeming a bit strained. "Well...I would, but I don't have the right spells memorized. I really wasn't planning on coming back 'til tomorrow, but the storm caught me away from home. The tower was closer, so I came here." "Hmm...then why don't you relieve Ol'qera on the Chart. He'll go blind if he stares at it much longer." Jolriq turned and rushed through the hall to another passage. Ezrin walked toward Ol'qera's slouching figure. Of all the Merastasi, he was probably the only one Ezrin disliked. His long hair was a mess, and his unbathed body stank horribly. 'No wonder no one's come to relieve him! The others probably couldn't bear getting close enough to tell him.' "Olq! You look like hell. Go take a break." Ezrin normally never addressed anyone that way, but this wasn't just anyone - it was Ol'qera. Being such a slob, it was a wonder how he'd ever made the merastasi ranks. Deep down Ezrin felt envious of Ol'qera for having afternoon shift, while he was forced to work nights. Ezrin felt he was more talented, even if he did have less experience. Something about that seniority thing... "Huh?" Ol'qera turned to face Ezrin with two bloodshot eyes. "Oh, yea, I'll go take a break." He took several seconds stretch his body, and then stood up. Then he turned to leave. "Olq! Anything I should be aware of?" Ezrin knew the proper protocol was always to inform the new watchman. "Keep an eye on 'em all. Watch the storm. Not much else." Ol'qera turned and stumbled toward the exit. Looking down at the Chart of Seawatch, Ezrin now realized the full magnitude of this storm. It was enormous, stretching past the charts edges in three directions. Thankfully, most of the ships appeared to have turned landward. The few that hadn't were supposedly being warned or help was being sent to them. Miraculously, only a few fishing craft had been lost thus far. Within a few minutes, Ezrin had re-acquainted himself with all of the Chart's manual controls, and he began a tighter sweep. Red-white-green- blue-flicker: it was a vision out of his past. He tightened the sweep. Sure enough, there it was. The same signal he'd seen month's ago which had led him through all that pain. But this time it was much smaller limited to one place up the coast north of Generica and a location in Generica's harbor, near the docks. Could it be the same magic causing this storm? %Don't concern yourself. Widen the sweep to full.% Which voice was that one? *It doesn't matter.* That one he recognized. Ezrin decided to widen the sweep. He hesitated as he brought the Chart back to its original position. %FULL!% It was rare that the Chart was ever advanced past its current limits, but it could be done for brief periods of time. Something about its magic limited its range, and caused it to go blank afterward for a few minutes before tighter sweeps could again be performed. 'Careful.' one voice warned. Ezrin closely examined the map, and made sure all the craft were temporarily out of danger. Still he paused. %DO IT!% He couldn't resist, and his fingers worked the controls to fully widen the Chart's image. After a few seconds it stabilized. "My god!" Ezrin looked at the chart in disbelief. His words caught the attention of the other merastasi in the Hall, who quickly gathered around the chart. All of them stared in awe at the sight. The current storm, huge as it was, looked dwarfed by the second storm close behind it. All of them recognized a tell-tale sign - its eye. "Upgrade the warnings. This is only the first wave. Looks like we've got a hurricane right behind it." One of the merastasi issued orders to the other mages. "Good work, watchman!" That's what he wanted to hear. Ezrin smiled, feeling proud of himself. He looked around the room to catch any other praises that might be offered, but there were only a few nods and winks. Then he realized that he had probably just caused a lot more work for the entire bunch, including himself. "Oh well," he muttered, as he took off his cloak and sat back in his chair. "Looks like I'll be working all night." --- ADMIN: Sorry for any problems this post may cause with other timelines. The hurricane may or may not move closer, depending on the Will-o'-the-Net. Any ships that are supposed to sink, can do so following the timeframe of this post. E-mail me if you'd like to have Ezrin notice any notable watercraft going down. MagicHutchHeader From: 344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU (Michael Sander) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: This Week in Review Message-ID: <93098.113333344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Date: 8 Apr 93 15:33:33 GMT [ADMIN: Here we go, with my first TWIR. Wish me luck {partial ;-)!}. I'm introducing a new feature, a mini-review of all the threads I see that don't have anyone send me anything. However (operative word), for them to be in any depth, or even possibly complete (due to time lags, some things reach my site days late), it's best to just e-mail me a summary. Anyway, as per my days in the BB, any additions/comments/corrections are welcomed... Also, _NO_ violence in the Dragon's Inn is permitted -- any violent actions performed in the Inn will be considered a dream (or to happen in the Drag On Inn in Ak'Irneg, if you want to follow Stephen Hutchison's explanation). No matter how fast the attacker, Littlefair and Listener are faster; no matter how strong, they are stronger. Hey, it's the only thing we really ask besides not bringing in unbeatable gods as PCs/main characters, so please try to be considerate. Newbie posts are forgiven (and overall forgotten), but it does not validate any actions therein. This Week In Review -=-=-=-=- Dragon's Inn and Newcomers Review: This week most of the activity was response to the massive storm that hit /is hitting Generica. It's good to see this group "work" together and react to one event, for possibly the first time since what, the mob attack, 10 months ago (of a.p.d-i's nearly 11 month history)? Well, I _did_ have about a dozen people respond to the "traitor poll" _way_ back, and several "noticed" the snow that the [KQ] had fall after the setback of Great Mother, but otherwise, it's been few and far between. I want to thank Chris Meadows for the idea (I've already done so privately). And thanks for passing it by the group first, a not really "necessary" measure (as people will generally pick up on/reference things they like, and ignore things they don't), but an appreciated one. -=-=-=-=- Those in the Inn (or at least PCs, as last I saw.) Lifilis Kloote, Kryalla, Amachiak & ChikCha, Eski Boseni, ...sage, Andrea&Sheryl, Serene, Mopper Marux (good to see him back) -=-=-=-=- Thread Catalogue (in alphabetic order; for those who've submitted them) [BBD] Contact: Mike Sander (344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu) Notes: Thread named after the villian. Just starting, with room for growth (other PCs) now/soon. See reviews below for updates. [blade] Contact: Daniel Reinker (dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu) Involved: Meshtak, Arcadio, Chip, Gortok, Max, and Sir Tyrone Notes: Battling the minions of Hendrix the Motherspawm [DS] Title: Demon Spiders Contact: Aaron Humphrey (aaron@atlantis.uucp) Involved: Dark Blades (Morgan Broman), Nercrum (Chris Steiner) Notes: Follows the exploits of the Demon Spiders gang, since they have separated for the [MI] thread -- although they may merge back together at any time. [GATM] Title: Ghost And The Machine Contact: Rick Jones (albert@bcm.tmc.edu) Notes: Krupp Faraway, ghostly halfling private investigator is solving his own murder, and discovering a plot that threatens Generica. [Kal&Co] Title: Kal & Company Contact: Brent Davis (bdavis@cray.com) Involved: Denner Train, E'Karam, Kalendraf, Kevin, Meran Quicksilver Notes: Members banded together after being kicked out of Dragon's Inn following a drinking contest that nearly turned into a fight. [L&S] Title: Luthor and Serene Contact: asg102@psuvm.psu.edu, alden@coos.dartmouth.edu Official characters: Luthor, Serene, The Captain Primary Themes: Love, Family, Adventure, Enjoying Life, Good vs. Evil, Loss, and Revenge Secondary Themes: Meteorology, strained carrots, colorblindness. [MI] Title: Moriarty Investigations Contact: Aaron Humphrey (aaron@atlantis.uucp) Involved: Dariel (Bernard Hsiung), the Mage Guild (common property), Jameson (Kelly J. cooper), ...sage (Pete Calvert) Notes: Moving towards story-telling mode. Mostly an ego-tripping thread. :-) Touches on [DS] thread, may brush with the [SQ] thread. Will do anything for a reasonable price. :-) [RATS] Title: Rat Catchers Contact: Hak Lien Chua (c164-ex@po.berkeley.edu) Involved: Higar (Hak Lien Chua), Git (D Morgan), Firgun (Scott Bradburn) Bakr (Thomas Kettenring), a duck (NPC) Notes: Searching the sewers for a real big rat and some fungi. [TW] Title: Twentlan Rescue Team Contact: Jorma Pesonen (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Notes: Leader of the Squiichar came to the Inn to gather a party to rescue the Queen of his people. Due to some space-time-continuum fluctuation the party left and vanished. Amachiak has returned to form a new group to find his queen. -=-=-=-=- Submitted Reviews: [AU][Jiri] Submitted by: Chris Meadows Andrea arrived in town aboard a ship, having to kill some crewmen to get herself and Sheryl, her unicorn travelling companion, safely away without loss of horn. They made it to the Dragon's Inn, where later on they met 'Raelf and ar'Elya. They saw a poster advertising for a quest for Roah, and the name brought back painful memories which combined with Andrea's fatigue to cause a breakdown. The next day Andrea awakened in a roon in the Inn, which 'Raelf had paid for. Andrea and Sheryl went to the Mages' Guild, to thank 'Raelf and ask for his help in a matter regarding the curse on Sheryl. After that, they stopped briefly by the library, then Andrea went shopping, sans Sheryl, in the Low Market. That evening, Andrea met Kyhra, a large man-cat, and they were instant friends. 'Raelf and ar'Elya came by to give Andrea their diagnosis of Sheryl: She was a perfectly healthy Nexian Unicorn, but some things didn't match. She had been changed by a powerful magic curse, and her new shape-identity had supplanted and erased her previous one. In addition, Sheryl did not want her shapeshift "cured"; she was perfectly happy as a unicorn. In return for the scan, Andrea told 'Raelf, ar'Elya, and Kyhra (since he was there at the time) her and Sheryl's story; how their village had been wiped out and her younger sister Sheryl shapechanged into a unicorn by Raykor, a malevolent magician and then-underling of Roah (there is no telling what he might be doing today). They had fled to Selactica, helped by their local Issek cleric Father Phylus and a lady thief named Fujiko. The local Issek high priest hadn't been able to help Sheryl, and, rather than be sent to an abbey, Andrea and Sheryl fled to the Selactican Thieves' Guild, where Andrea took training as a thief. After the tale, a young lady named Kardia came up and demonstrated her ability to undo magic. She offered to help remove the curse from Sheryl, though removing the curse would not now affect her current shape. Andrea talked with Sheryl regarding what Sheryl wanted, and Sheryl managed to make it known that she would be willing to try having the curse removed, but she removed, but she wanted to remain a unicorn. Later that night, Andrea went out and used the equipment she had recently purchased and repaired to burglarize Karrigan's Quality Jewelry, a large store across the Plaze of Glittering Blades. In the process, she rescued a grey alley cat, which she then named Carson. The next day, a storm began brewing, and Andrea was present when a storm warning arrived in a rather...unorthodox manner. Kyhra returned and introduced her to Jiriku, an Elven friend of his who had a remarkable affinity for Sheryl. He then went off to help reinforce the Generican seawall, leaving Jiriku at the Inn to help attend to whatever wounded might come in when the storm hit. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ [BBD] Submitted by: Mike Sander This week in the [BBD] was a relatively slow one, as I personally had a week that even finals might not catch up to as far as business. Nevertheless... I believe when last we left off, Lancos was asleep at a place of Enn Piecy, while Darvos was trying to track down Lissa, who was currently being chased by the Gutt Man, and then temporarily saved by the Little Rat. Lancos was "instructed" by Enn to return to the spot where he had first met Krastin (from waaaay back in the [DQ]). He did so, along the way untentionally picking up an animal companion in the form of a yellow, tailless (though apparently not _born_ that way) cat that he named Bast (an inane reference; I do a lot of those :-)!), and reflected a tad on his time in Generica. However, that was before he heard what would prove to be Lissa's scream. The Little Rat and Lissa had tried to escape the Gutt Man, but Lissa accidently led herself into a dead-end alley. The Little Rat tried to stay brave and fend off Gutt Man with a board, though inwardly feared for her life. Lancos showed up a few seconds after, but didn't surprise Gutt Man as expected. Instead, the Little Rat clobbered him. As Lancos consoled the Little Rat into thinking all was right again, Darvos came on the scene. Feeling only rage; seeing only a man clutching a little girl, he magically separated the two. Only when he saw his mistake and found that Lissa was safe did he calm down, and apologized to Lancos, who shrugged it off. The four decided to take Gutt Man to jail. However, it would be a pretty boring thread if it ended there, as shown in a post I can only hope is on. BBD interfered and awoke the Gutt Man, imbuing him with powers, and the promise of more if he would take Lissa to an arranged place and "oversee" a ceremony. Not knowing that his own will was also in the balance, Gutt Man agreed. The others pursued, not knowing of BBD's involvement. -=-=-=- Mini-reviews (alphabetically) [G]: The group travells through the GateWay (pre-storm), on their way to help their companion Wanderer. [JOI]: Too much for _me_ to summarize. Several newcomers joined together under Elanon's quest/leadership, and departed Generica via a ship on the Great Blue. All was not peaceful for long though, as they encountered first the storm and second a ship with a skeleton crew (literally). [L&S]: Luthor and Erik deal with the storm in a way perhaps only Shadow Magi can. Unfortunately, that can't include destroying it before it started, but IT COULD INCLUDE SAVING MANY LIVES AND HOUSES. What do you know, it did {;-)}. [Mr B]: Mr Boddy finally makes it to Generica -- sort of. Last I saw, he and his companions were waiting out the storm in a cave outside the town. [Roah] The participants have finally arrived at Kassandra, and set out to rescue prisoners -- at first just Ray's friends, but then all enjailed. [TW] This thread is reforming, it seems, with most of its "old" people, as well as Esi. It will (apparently) restart when the storm is over. [Wonko (et al)]: The surreal adventures continue, as Bossie falls to the Beast inside her and kills farmer Joe Bob Billy Ray. If the vampiric cow treats friends like this, you sure don't want it for an enemy (I guess)... -=-=-=- That's all for now -- see you probably next Friday, as I'll run this essentially as ...sage did (get your reviews in by Thursday <,please>, and I'll put everything on Friday), save this week... Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader From: c164-ez@po.berkeley.edu (Chua Hak Lien) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [RATS!] Whoops!! Let's try again... Date: 9 Apr 1993 00:07:58 GMT Message-ID: <1q2eou$st9@agate.berkeley.edu> As we rejoin the four companions, they are fleeing from the T-Crocs... "Pah. We could have had them.. if only you hadn't blocked my view, Bakr", said Higar. "Yeah, right", said the mage, sewing up a rip in his pants. "As if you could hit a wall while standing an inch away from it..." "I thought the combat was going quite fine... until the T-Crocs started pouring that salt and pepper on us...", added Firgun. "Do you think they were overconfident.." "Nevermind. What we need to do now is to go somewhere and regroup and find that darsted rat, and get out of here..", mumbled Higar. "Git.. Git,", said Bakr, "You can put all of us down now." "Oh.. ok", said the barbarian. He let go of all of them. "No.. SLOWLY??!! Oof!" The three others landed in a heap on the sewer floor. "next time, Git, drop us down s-l-o-w-l-y..." Meanwhile... .. as our brave heroes try to disengage themselves..... The sorcerer was plotting away. "Pah! Next time, I will have to use a larger scale!" He said, as he moved the triangle along the x-y axis. Then the room shook. "........". The mage shuddered.. "What a dissapointment you are to me!" "Oh master..." "WHEN YOU ADDRESS ME, PLEASE CAPITALIZE THE PRONOUN!!", came the voice. "Oh. sorry. Oh Master, I am sorry, but I was outnumbered!" "And it appears unclothed, as well..." "Well, yes. Don't tell anyone that I'm wearing the same pair of undies as I was yesterday,you know, those blasted idiots took my other pair..." "SILENCE! You must teach these bunch of idiots a lesson! I will supply you a familiar to aid you against them!" "A familiar? A f-f-f-amiliar? Why, THANK YOU, Master! THANK YOU! Could it be a nice quasit, or an imp, Master? Maybe even a small fire- drake..." There was a * POOF *, and white smoke covered the room. The mage coughed. "There it is. It will aid you against them well." "Thank you, thank you, Master! Thank you!", the mage looked around. "Uhh.. Master?", he looked up at the vision. "Where is my most precious one?" "Why, he is at your feet! Guard it well!" "Oh, thank you, Master, thank you.", the mage said, brushing his burnt beard and scratching the plasters that covered his face. "Ahh.. my own familiar.. now where is it.. now where..." * RIBBIT * The mage came face to face with a small green toad that blew up it's cheeks in greeting. "A TOAD, MASTER? A .." The stare from his deity prevented further argument. "Yes, anything?", said the god. "Nuuuu... No.. Master, how generous. A toad! Just the kind of familiar I had always wanted! No longer willl I live in fear of flies, or seek for warts.. thank you, Master. You are most kind and mighty.." The Dark Master smiled. "Very well then, be off. The party is off to catch a rat, so plan accordingly...." Higar ----- [ There was an mess-up with an earlier post, so you're not seeing double... I canceled that one.. =) ] MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: asgds@acad2.alaska.edu Subject: what is this group? Message-ID: <1993Apr8.191915.1@acad2.alaska.edu> Date: Thu, 8 Apr 1993 23:19:15 GMT What is this group? MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Pitzar] The Office Message-ID: <1993Apr7.223347.2324@organpipe.uug.arizona.edu> From: corleyj@helium.gas.uug.arizona.edu (Jason D Corley ) Date: 7 Apr 93 22:33:47 GMT We wrote and printed all night. The few news imps that turned up the next morning got doubly-thick wads of paper shoved in their hands and slaps on their rump. The sun over Generica blazed out like a sudden torch in a dark room. I hadn't seen the sun in a while. But we had done it. That morning the Examiner hit the streets with a dozen stories of the damage of the storm. We wrote the stories during the storm, and had no way of knowing what had really happened, but there was no way for us to know that it _didn't_ happen the way we told it. Not much sense in printing "Storm Hits, We Stay Inside All Night and get Shaken To Hell By Wind And Thunder." Sometimes the truth gets in the way of the story. But sometimes the story just grabs truth by the collar and shoves it right in your face. That's what it did that morning. Papers were scattered everywhere. Some of the back issues had been ruined when a window in the archives had been ripped open and rain had slashed in like a kid with an inkwell. We had to toss them, a total loss. The notes, the books, the maps, everyone's desks were thrown across the rooms like a child's toys. It would be days before we were fully cleaned up. I just tipped my desk back upright, and pulled the bottle of Dragon's Red out of the bottom drawer. Broken. I threw it out. At least the wind that had blown through the building had cleared the dust away. Even as it was, the papers were yellowed and cracked from sitting in the sun for so long. I rested my head on the cool wall and closed my eyes just for a minute, inhaling the dank, moldy smell of Generica after a storm. I heard footsteps and opened my eyes. There, in the empty doorframe, was Dawn. She stood in the frame very stiffly, her eyes a total blank. Dawn was one of two female reporters for the _Examiner_. Some people talked, but never around her. She was tough, and anyone who thought any different was in for a nasty surprise. I thought different, once. And for a while, she thought I was right. But she had looked out the small grimy window one morning, and turned to me with a look that said more than a hundred articles, words skittering out of the quill. And there she was, standing in my doorway as if someone had planted her, watered her and let her take root. I thought, suddenly, for no reason, that I had seen her before. Of course I had, but somehow I again felt that I was home. Even though I knew I wasn't. I finally spoke. "Dawn." She looked at me. "You're all right, then..." she said, reflectively, almost to herself. Then she added, "You're all right, Jake? Helluva storm." I nodded. "Helluva storm." She swallowed hard. "Yeah." She pushed her hair back out of her face, and for a moment the sunlight glittered on the soft gold ring on her third finger. Plain gold. "Well, I'll see you around." Her footsteps clattered away even as my lips opened and no words came out. -- "Meetings are an addictive, highly self-indulgent activity that corporations and other organizations habitually engage in only because they cannot actually masturbate."-----------------------------------Dave Barry Jason "corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu" Corley is Wanted for Impersonating a Student MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BH] Amberle babbles about Miscrir Date: 9 Apr 1993 04:56:42 GMT Message-ID: <1q2vmb$875@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> Amberle watched Artimian talk about himself. Her attention was wandering though and soon she was completely out of the flow of conversation. their words just flew by like birds in the breeze. The sun was rising outside and she realized how tired she was and suddenly remembered the dull ache from where her shoulder was hit by the arrow during the nights adventure. As if the conversation had come full circle, Amberle looked up and noticed that the others were looking at her as if expecting her to say something. She smiled. "What?" Artimian returned the smile. "I was curious that since we seem to know a bit about each other if you could shed some light upon your companion. I was sure he was going to die last night but then, well ..." Amberle laughed slightly. "It truly is a very long story but well here goes... In the deep south, an evil wizard was born who in the usual way of his kind sought to sieze power and in short control the world. Also, as typical of the kind, he achieved brilliance in one kind of magic, that being the magick of fire. His name was Silthurer Mazur but that is not important. His short rise was cut even shorter by another man who was noted for not being able to control his temper. Silth was caught in a bar fight with this other man and lost his magic due to a severe blow to the head levied by this other man. Silth was understandably upset and proceded to spend his remaining spells on anything and everything in sight. A trial insued where the man who started the fight and Silth were sent even further south into exile. Silth had been very good at Fire magic and in the years following created a religion worshiping a deamon of Fire. With Silths former abilities redirected this religion became a large power in the deep south. Silths followers were granted almost unatural abilities with fire the price is that they cannot bear children since the child would have the same powers and kill itself in it's ignorance. The other man was the great great grandfather of Miscrir's mother. His followers became fanatical fighters and their tempers became legendary. They continued to fight with Silth's followers becoming renown for their skills with their swords and that one just doesn't ever get on their bad sides. Miscrir is the product of some raping and pillaging. Even though the wizards kids would blow themselves out of existance, Miscrir survived. He was almost a teenager before the powers sufaced and he learned that the power was linked to his temper. Being the supposed heir to the king, he had lived a sheltered life and never blown his cool before. He one of the luckiest men alive. Unfortunately luck comes in two varieties good and bad. having a lot of luck is not necessarily mean good luck more often it means bad luck, but in Miscrirs case its both. The bad luck gets him in trouble and the good luck keeps him alive. I you want to know more why don't you just ask him. Amberle nodded in the direction of Miscrir who was emerging from the stair case. Artimian turned to look at Miscrir and when he moved Amberle noticed someone who was hovering near their table. Amberle spoke up. "Friend do you wish to join us at this table. I think it will only cost you a story since you seem to have been listening to ours." MagicHutchHeader From: jlowrey@skat.usc.edu (John 'Fritz' Lowrey) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Silverlocks Bonded Warehouse and Trade Center Date: 9 Apr 1993 03:38:23 -0700 Message-ID: <1q3jmvINN1lo@skat.usc.edu> [ADMIN: New character intro and Dragons Inn Bulletin Board Post] Things were beginning to return to normal since the storm had passed. People still drank, ate and cursed the IRS. This last was a pastime which was presently very popular in the Dragons Inn... until a stranger arrived with a box. Not that the box or the stranger were truly remarkable, nor was it that people weren't occasionally seen carrying boxes into the 'Inn, but... "A half-n-half please." the cloaked man said as he sat down at the bar with a sigh, setting the box at his feet. It clanked. "A what?" asked Littlefair. "Something light and bubbly on the bottom, and something stout and bubbly on the top. Sorry, maybe it's a drink not heard of here." "No sweat." shortly a tankard of the mixed ales was brought, chilled and perfect. A smile crept across the strangers face as he sipped the mixture. As he drank he turned and sized up the crowd here at the 'Inn: elves, cat-man, unicorns, muttering mages, storm-warn sand baggers, tinkers, tailors, and candlestick makers. A fine crowd. As the stranger checked out the crowd, the other patrons had their chance to size up the new arrival. Human, fairly tall, muscular without the bulging body of warrior, travel warn but apparently still in his youth. A fair amount of brown hair was tied into an unruly ponytail which was now partially tucked into the hood of his cloak. The box he had carried in was nondescript: wooden, nailed on the sides and hinged on the top, and covered with a bit of dust and patches of mildew stains. After a bit the stranger turned back to the barkeep. "Scuze me, but I hear that this Inn has the best bulletin board in town. I'd like to take advantage of that to advertise my new business." "Sure thing. Just write it down, and we'll post it with the rest. What sort of business are you about?" this was a question that several of the others in the room were hoping to get answered as well, they leaned in to hear as subtly as possible. "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Silverlock al'Horg and I have just opened a bonded and insured warehouse on the street of Avenging Angels. I also have a great deal of active trade in odd and novel items from this and many other lands. Here is my ad for the board." saying this he handed over a sheet for posting. Silverlocks Bonded Warehouse and Trade Center Street of the Avenging Angels If it doesn't bite, breed, or blow up: WE WILL STORE IT! If it does: WE WILL NEGOTIATE! ......... BUY! SELL! TRADE! Unusual Items from all over the... Place! Reasonable rates for short and long term warehousing. (Enquire about our magickly secured services) A nearby sailor asked, "Why Silverlock? I don't see any gray hair or anything." "Blame my parents." said al'Horg with the grimace of one who was answered this question far more than he would like. "Indeed, to open relations with this establishment and its patrons, I have here a free sample of what I can offer, or arrange, in the future." With this, he knelt down and opened the box, lifting out a squat, long necked bottle. Turning to the gathered people with a flourish, he said in a strong confident voice, "Ladies, gentlemen, creatures magical and mundane! I have here a case of the finest fourty year-old, single-malt Glenlivet whiskey you will find in Generica. It is only an appetizer of the sorts of things that I have or can get. Madam Littlefair, it is a gift to the Dragons Inn in the hope that it might bring about a lucrative mutual arrangement." A collective sigh was heard from the listeners. This was the real stuff. As Silverlock was leaving, the bar was mobbed by those trying to get a taste of the peaty juice of the barley. al'Horg left the Inn feeling that he had certainly made friends, transient though they may be, and perhaps had stirred up some business as well. /Well/, he thought, /that went pretty well./ Whistling a nameless reel, he sauntered back to his place of business. He had more crates to deliver... [ADMIN: Well, that's my intro. Silverlock is an honest trader and will store nearly anything for a price. He is a minor mage with skills in packing, finding items in obscure places, moving cargo about, and figuring out the odd items he digs up. He can be found around most areas of town conducting business, or at his warehouse/home inventorying new acquisitions. There may be a couple of NPC assistants at the warehouse when he is not in. The building itself is externally unpresuming, but appears to be in a constant state of clutter and confusion within. It faces the street of Avenging Angels and abutts the river to its rear (the better to load in or out cargo from ships).] -- "I'll gently raise and softly call, | J. "Fritz" Lowrey Goodnight my friends, and joy to all."| Internet: jlowrey@usc.edu Clancy Brothers | MagicHutchHeader From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI][Storm] Hidden things... Message-ID: <1993Apr9.123438.16940@ultb.isc.rit.edu> Date: 9 Apr 93 12:34:38 GMT As Elenon tended to the wounds of Segoi, he somewhat regained consciousness. Opening his terible eyes slowly he reached up in a reflex motion to pull his hood over his face. He grasped feebly for a while, and not finding it there, turned his gaze on Elenon. "Well," a weak smile parted his lips, "you see me now as I am. Do not let the others see this body and face, they cannot understand my curse..." In so saying those eyes that cut like fire closed and the head rolled sickeningly to one side. Elenon, now having time to look, did so in shock. What manner of creature was this? Turning he saw Laurnth coming towards them, and quickly pulled his cloak over the bleeding body of Segoi. Tucking his clawed hands under the sides so as not to be seen. Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac559@Freenet.carleton.ca (Ian Clysdale) Subject: [JOI] My name is Elanon, and I'm a painaholic... Message-ID: <1993Apr9.152148.28761@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Fri, 9 Apr 1993 15:21:48 GMT Elanon looks at Segoi's lying form, and breathes a sigh of thanks to Quaeros. Then he covers Segoi with his own cape, and returns Segoi to his cabin; keeping him away from the other crew of his ship. He gives the giant a smile of comprehension, and then he returns to the deck of the ship. Suddenly, he heard agonizing, if quiet, cries of pain coming from the side of the ship, running over, he found that he had already been beaten there by Darkin. He looked, and saw the unconscious form of Ildamar. For a while his battle-stunned brain accepted this as the explanation for the cries, until he realized that unconscious men make no cries. Then he started searching for the cause, until he saw Kyar, with the last of his strength, trying to hold onto the side of the ship. He called Darkin over, and the two of them together managed to pull Kyar on board, who then immediately collapsed beside Ildamar. "Well," said Elanon, "that's one of the two who were on that ship. Now we merely have to find Aleric, and hope that he can stay alive in that water until we can return. Darkin and Elanon carried back the prone forms of Ildamar and Kyar, and laid them out to rest in their respective chambers. Then, they mounted back up to the deck, and gathered around the remaining adventurers. Elanon quickly got to the crux of the matter. "We have two choices to us: we can take the whole boat and head back looking for Aleric, and hope that we have enough precision with the winds; or someone can make the swim again and look for him. I am at the limits of my strength, and can no longer do anything." With this, Elanon went down, and joined the three others in the lands of sleep. ADMIN: Well, currently we've got Segoi, Kyar, Ildamar and myself gone far gone. Ildamar'll be a day or so to recover, he's told me; I just need a good night's sleep (ie. I've just dived to sink a ship; killed a few nasty undead; and had to carry Segoi a far stretch -- you'd be exhausted too), and I can't speak for Segoi or Kyar. -Elanon of Ullswater- -- Ian Clysdale | "Honour thy word, Disciple of Great Cat | honour thy friends. Seer of the Stairwell | Honour thine self, ac559@freenet.carleton.ca | and honour revenge!" MagicHutchHeader From: c164-ez@po.berkeley.edu (Chua Hak Lien) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [RATS!] Finally, we meet the big guy... Date: 9 Apr 1993 17:08:29 GMT Message-ID: <1q4aid$5re@agate.berkeley.edu> The four feathered heroes and their brave duck companion settled down to sleep. { WAIT! WAIT! You GOT IT WRONG! } { GOT WHAT WRONG? } { The heroes and the duck. You got them mixed up! } { Oh.. Ok. I see... } { Ahem. } The brave duck and it's four feathered companions settled down to sleep. Sleep in the sewer, isn't that disgusting, you say? Well, it didn't seem to matter to them, for the group had bought hammocks to hang between the battered, dirty walls, so they would not have to make contact with the foul sewage that flowed through the tunnel. But actually, they just found a nice dry cavern that someone conveniently built 50' below the earth for no particular reason whatsoever except as a handy plot device. ( Not that it mattered to Higar, of course, who could pretty much sleep anywhere. ) And so the five souls plopped down and got ready for some winks. "Shouldn't we put up a watch?", said Bakr, sleepily.. "What for? We don't have anything anyone would want to steal. Unless you'd want to volunteer." said Firgun. Higar by now was snoring away. The duck stared at the dwarf in a irritated away, squinting almost as if in annoyance. It quacked quizzically. "Why did I waste my earthquake potion when all I needed was to make him sleep...", thought Firgun. Git patted the floor and then lay down. "Good night!", he said. Then he gave the other adventurers a big hug. All at the same time. When they managed to extricate themselves from each other ("BAKR! GET YOUR FINGERS OUT OF MY NOSE!" "FIRGUN, THAT'S MY FOOT! THAT'S MY FOOT!" ), the companions then started to get some winks. They put off the light from their mining lantern, set up their equipment nicely, brushed their teeth, flossed, changed into their pajamas and tucked themselves in, all ready for some good, well-deserved rest. Then Firgun felt himself being shaken. "Hmpph... wot..." "Firgun?" "Yes, Git?" "Tell me a bedtime thtory." Firgun stood up in bed in disbelief. "A bedtime story? You, a full-blooded barbarian from the fierce North who is the offspring of the greatest warrior race ever to walk the Known Lands want a *BEDTIME* story????" Git nodded. One learns not to argue with 7 foot barbarians about much. So.. "Alright! Alright! A bedtime story.. a bedtime story..." ( I wonder if Red Sonja ever had this problem, thought Firgun. ) "All right. Here we go. Oncetherewasthisprincesswholivedinacastleandtherewasthisdragon whowasreallymeanthatateanyoneandallthecowsinthefieldsandthelittle bunnieswunniesItkidnappedtheprincessonedayandstuffedherinitscavern andthekingpromisedanyonewhomanagedtoslaythedragonandsave theprincessherhandinmarriagehalfhiskingdomandticketstotheannual dwarftossingtouramentsoknightafterknighttriedtokillthedragonbutto noavailastheyallgotcreamedbythedragonwhobarbecuedthemintheirplate mailthenonedaythisgnomecamealongandcastagreatspellofafemale dragon. ( Dramatic pause ) "Thenthestupidmaledragongotfooledandfellinloveandchargedatthe femaledragon( dragons rarely meet. You should see the personal columns of the Generican times. Lots of them look for the right wyrm.. ) butitwasactuallyaclifffacesothemaledragonranrightintoitandcrushed hisheadanddiedsothegnomegothalfthekingdombuthedidn'twantthepr- incessbuthestillwantedtheticketstothedwarftossingtourament. "Ok?", said Firgun, breathless. He fell back down upon his blanket, all ready to get some rest. "Could you repeat it? I liked the part about the bunny-wunny." A few hours later.... Bakr was awakened by something stirring upon his chest. He opened his eyes to see two red pupils staring at him. "Higar? I know that's you. If you're still angry about me getting my finger stuck up your nostrils all I can say is that there was nothing I could do about it." The eyes continued to stare. Bakr felt something wet drip onto his chest. "Higar! That's disgusting!" "Yes, but it is Higar, Bakr!" said Firgun. "You forgot who you're talking about." "Get off, you demented little dwarf from the depths of the undercities!" Bakr tried to lift himself and twist to the side, but the load on his chest was too much. "Pah... get off!", then Bakr took out a frying pan from his backpack and slammed it down hard on the thing on his stomach. The pan struck the thing squarely on the head and the two eyeballs did a quick circular dance. "Quiet, Bakr! I'm trying to get some sleep!", said a voice to the left. "H..H..Higar, was that you?" "Yes! Who else could it be? The tooth fairy?" "Then.. then..", the mage struck a match. Standing on his chest was the mother of all giant rats, so large it must have weighed 300 pounds easily. It did not seem amused to have been attacked by a kitchen implement. "Uh... oh..", said Bakr. He blew the match out. "Nice rat... now.. go away. Shoo.. shoo.. there's some cheese to the left of here, you know. Nice, big cheese larger than a house! I can tell you, I don't taste half as good as cheese! Not even a quarter as good! Not even a twentieth! I taste horrible.. " "BAKR! Will you shut up??", said Firgun, who then lighted the lantern and squinted in the light, Firgun. "Firgun..Firgun..", Bakr moaned, the eyes of the rat were getting closer to his face and it's warm breath already upon him. "You're not needing a bedtime story, are you?" "The..the..r-r-e's a-a-a- r-r-r-" "Spit it out, man!", said the gnome. "r-r-r-ah-ah-ah-et-et-et-et o-o-o-on-on-on m-m-m-my-my s-s-st- sto-sto-stom-ark-ark-ark-ark..." "Oh? Is that all? Tell him to come back tomorrow. Take some antacid and call me in the morning. Good night, Bakr." The gnome extinguished the lamp and went back to sleep. "Ii-i-t-'s-'s-'s-s-s-s n-o-o-t-t-t-ot a-a-a-a s-s-s-small one..., Firgun." "Whatever. Sweet dreams." Then Bakr wailed. The companions jumped out of bed. "What? What?" They were all in the dark. { Is that literal or figurative? } { Does it matter? } { Well, don't confuse the readers.. } They were all in the dark. Higar grabbed his crossbow that was still chained to his belt. Firgun readied a powerful spell. Git drew his two-handed sword. They were all prepared for battle. ......... Ahem. They were all prepared for battle. ......... I SAID. THEY WERE ALL PREPARED FOR BATTLE. ......... Look. Are you waiting for the duck to light the damn lantern? ......... Firgun took out the tinderbox and lit the mining lamp. Then they saw the giant rat upon Bakr. "THE RAT! THE RAT!", shouted Higar, jumping up and down. He licked his lips in anticipation. Git stepped forward, his axe drawn. "Hmm.. do you think if it ate Bakr first before we killed it, we could get more gold? I mean, this is a silver for pound thingie..", said Higar. Bakr howled in abject terror. Tears flowed from his eyes. "There there. I was only kidding..." The duck looked on, not too interested in the proceedings. { What? YOu're ending it? Why now? Why here? } { Well, I have other work to do, you know, and it's someone else's turn to write now.. harumphh... } Higar/Git/Firgun/Bakr --------------------- Written primarily by Higar: c164-ez@po.berkeley.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: Re: [JOI] My name is Elanon, and I'm a painaholic... Message-ID: <1993Apr9.235603.4178@ultb.isc.rit.edu> References: <1993Apr9.152148.28761@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Fri, 9 Apr 1993 23:56:03 GMT > >ADMIN: Well, currently we've got Segoi, Kyar, Ildamar and myself gone far >gone. Ildamar'll be a day or so to recover, he's told me; I just need a good >night's sleep (ie. I've just dived to sink a ship; killed a few nasty undead; >and had to carry Segoi a far stretch -- you'd be exhausted too), and I can't >speak for Segoi or Kyar. > ADMIN[ I'm gonna be laid up for a while] Segoi saw the wood of the cabin roof and felt the bunk beneath him. He closed his eyes and slept. Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader From: fogelinc@pt.Cyanamid.COM (Carl Fogelin) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Storm][Observing] Losing that magic Date: 10 Apr 1993 06:04:29 GMT Message-ID: <1q5o1eINNd26@c3po.jvnc.net> [ ADMIN: I won't let the storm die yet. How come [L&S]'s party, which was ] [ suppose to be one night lasted a couple of weeks in posting material, but ] [ this storm, which is suppose to last several days, is being counted as ] [ over in less time than it's actual length. I for one will not let it die ] [ so quickly. ] Crombie climbed up into Merchant's hill before he turned his mike on again. "I'm in a wealthier section of town now, known locally as Merchant's hill." Looking to his left and right, he continued "Seems some have taken the pre- caution of boarding over their windows, although most seem to be depending on the better construction of their domiciles than those found in the surrounding neighborhoods." "Hey! Whatchu looking at." One of the guards by a set of wrought iron gates was walking towards Combie, gesturing, and mumbling. "Hmmm. Seems I've caught the attention of one of the owners guards." Crombie turned off his mike and turned towards the armored fellow who was coming his direction. Taking a small meter from his belt, Crombie aimed it in the direction of the guard. The needle swung high to the right. "Hey, Yo, puffkin" called Crombie, "I'd stop there if I was you." "Who you calling a puff?" The guard took out his sword and charged. When the fellow was about 8 feet away, he suddenly stumbled, and fell like a heap to the ground. His sword hit the ground and the blade separated from the hilt. The fellow got to his knees and looked real funny at Crombie. Crombie looked down at him and tsked. "Sorry about that, but I warned you." "Whhaa yuuu dooo taa meee?" The guard stopped and felt his face. A huge scar had appeared and his jaw seemed dislocated. Peering up at Crombie with fright in his eyes, the guard said one thing, "Nooooooo..." Crombie quickly moved away from the fellow, hoping that the fellow's features would return to normal when he was outside Crombie's dampening field. They didn't. ***** "I'm now by the Ceruputhon. The water is high and choppy. The sky is completely overcast, and the edges of the front I'm sure are near. I'm sending a weather probe up and casting drift buoys in the river." Crombie's backpack was on the ground and he was fiddling with several small spheres. Comparing the output on one of his devices with the light flashing on the spheres, he noded his satisfaction. He chucks a couple into the river. The remaining three he flings into the air. They sail about twenty five feet up, then flash bright gold and streak up into the clouds. "I've set Channel B to recording telemetry and feedback from the probes." Looking back at the roiling clouds, Crombie mutters "this doesn't feel right. Something unnatural about it." The bolt of lightning had caught Crombie off-guard, which explained the prone position he was in now. Looking around, he could see pellets of ice, hail, bouncing off the ground. Some looked to be about the size of golf balls, but none were hitting him. None! Flicking his mike on, Crombie said "The storm is NOT natural. Repeat, NOT natural. Probably induced via magic. Dampening field is filtering out its effects." he reached down and picked up his pack. Looking around him, the hail was giving way to rain. But none of it hit him. A hazy field surrounded him, keeping the effects of the storm at bay. "Jeez, I stick out like a sore-thumb. Better make sure that I'm back in disguise before the storm breaks" he muttered. --- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Carl Fogelin (fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com) "All opinions are strictly mine" Up the long ladder and down the short rope, To Hell with King Billy and God bless the Pope. -- traditional MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: B7P7 Subject: [Storm][Jiri][AU]: A Song in the Storm. Message-ID: <10APR93.22983324.0092@VM1.MCGILL.CA> Date: Sun, 11 Apr 1993 02:16:51 GMT [Admin]: When last we left Andrea, Sheryl, Carson and Jiriku, they were waiting in the Dragons Inn for the casualties to come in. Jiri had suggested joining Listener downstairs for an elven song about the Wind and Rain to ease the tensions. Meanwhile, Kyhra had been helping at the Seawall. He'd made a heroic leap to save one of his fellow Sandbaggers form being swept over the wall, but found that he had not the strength nor the time to pull the man to safety, for the Wave was coming back to claim its' victim. Thus did Kyhra stare into the eyes of Death upon the Sea, and knew that She would take him unto her dark domain under the waves... Humming a cheerful tune the Wolfmage led the Unicorn, the cat and the Thief into the cellars below, where most of the patrons of the Inn were holed up. The tension in the air was so thick that it almost seemed difficult to see across the cellar. After a moment of searching, Jiriku spotted the other elf accross the room softly strumming his lute. He made his way over as quickly as he could, for the room was indeed packed fairly tight. "Hail and well met friend," Jiriku began. "I am Jiriku Goldeies of the Sylvanwood. I noted earlier that you are one who practises the musical arts with great skill, and I thought maybe that I could add my humble voice to thine in a Song of Rain and Winds." The Sylvan smiled his peculiar smile and attempted a bow in the cramped quarters. The other smiled a return grin. "I am known as Listener. I would be happy to join you in a song, friend. It would be good for all of these worried hearts." The Wolfmage nodded. "Yes, that's what I was thinking. In the Sylvanwood we have many songs to raise the spirit, but I think the best one of all is the Stormsong. It is a Song of Wind and Rain, and many is the time that it has heartened the souls caught in a great storm. Know you it?" At the shake of the other elf's head, Jiriku smiled. "All the better. It is not diffilcult for one of your skill, and always have my people said that a Tale or Song is strengthened by adding the magic of others to it." Jiriku took a seat on top of a barrell beside the other elf and began to quietly strum his silver lute, speaking of melodies and harmonies to the bard. After a minute, Listener smiled and called for attention. "Friends and Travellers! Jiriku Goldeies and I would sing you a song to put your fears at bay and ease the tension in your hearts. It is a song of hope in the winds and rains, as sung by the people of the Sylvanwood. Please, listen and let your hearts fill with our joy." Quite a few of the other people clapped approval, but there were many still who looked none the cheered by the news. After one last final check of tuning, the two elves leapt into a strange and beautiful melody. For long minutes did they play thus, Jirikus lute seeming to sound the wind, and Listeners' the rain. The song built in power and strength, and it seemed to all that the two elves played the very storm itself- which, in a way they did, though their storm was much gentler. Now every ear in the cellar listened to the song, and all of the talk ceased as Jiriku began to sing, his sweet voice the sound of a forest brook and the gentle spring breeze at the same time. "When come the Wind, when come the Rain, The Storm that promises loss and Pain. When come the Fear that brave hearts taint, Then do we sing this sweet refrain. "When fall the Rain unto the ground, When blows the Wind with fearful sound, Then is the Song of Storming profound, And courage and hope is once again found. "I sing to you this song of Hope, So in the darkness you do not grope, Take from me this silver rope, And climb back up to the heights of Hope. "The Rain falls down to soothe the Mind The Wind blows hard to steel the Heart. Look deep within and you shall find, That the Storm outside is not as dark. Upon the forests and on the Sea, The weather comes to clense and clean. Be strong brave heart and you shall see, Upon the morrow the Sun's bright sheen. "When fall the Rain and blow the wind, Then is the time for souls to be kind. When the storm without is full of sin, Then is the time for us to unwind. "We'll sing and dance and feast all night, While outside the Storm is full of spite. We'll deny the Weather it's terrible right, And raise our hope to it's full height. "We'll laugh and smile and sing a song, And let the Weather do us no wrong. For our hope is high and our hearts are stong, And we are singing the Storming Song." (This time Listener and even some of the others joined the Wolfmage in the chorus.) "The Rain falls down to soothe the Mind, The Wind blows hard to steel the Heart. Look deep within and you shall find, That the Storm outside is not as dark..." Listener took over and made up several new verses, and the song continued for some time. Before it was finished, everybody in the cellar was singing along with a brave and cheerful voice- especially Sheryl, though only Jiriku heard her, who was in absolute heaven listening to the two elves sing and play upon their lutes. A great rousing cheer went up from the crowded cellar, and even the little brownie sleeping in the roof's eaves was awakened by the hopeful sound. Listener began another cheerful jig, and Jiriku happily accompanied him. Some people even did a bit of a dance where there was room to do so. But it was as this second song finished that the golden eyed, silver haired Sylvan suddenly dropped his lute and let forth a cry of utter despair. Everyone in the room looked worried again as Jiriku fell to his knees. "NOOOOOO!! Kyhra!" Even as the cry finished, he was on his feet and rushing for the stairs. Andrea gave Sheryl a worried look and ran after her new companion, even while Littlefair and Listener tried to get the other marrooned patrons into another song. Andrea made it up to the main floor just in time to see Jiriku draw forth a strange amulet and begin to work his magik. Even as he began, there was a pounding on the side door and several gaurdsmen poured in carrying wounded men from the Seawall. Andrea quickly directed them to the back room that the Sylvan mage had earlier prepared to deal with the injured. She tried to the best of her ability to help the men save the wounded ones. Many had had swallowed lungfulls of water and a few of them were bleeding profusely. Andrea cursed Jiriku and worried over Kyhra at the same time. She _needed_ that damn elf in there! Yet she also sent her blessings to the magik that would save the Kalnarian. As she reached to pull tight the bandage she was working on, a delicate hand stilled her arm and deftly tied the cloth around the wound. She looked up, and saw Jiriku standing there, his normally golden eyes misty and dark. Tears streamed down his delicate face, and the raven streak in his hair had grown, so that all that remained of his silver locks was a similar streak running the length of his hair. "I couldn't save him," Jiriku said brokenly. "I couldn't save him Andrea." A shocked look came upon the dark haired thiefs face, and she burst into tears as well as the elf burried his face in her shoulder and cried for the loss of his friend. --Dani Treutler. [note]: I just borrowed this address, as mine is low on funds, so if you want to respond to this, mail me at the one right above. Chris and I will welcome newcomers, so if you want to hook up with our characters, mail one of us. Oh, and if you happen to have a mage down at the 'Wall, a certain feline warrior I know would appreciate any help he can get... (just mail me first.) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [Party] [AU] Kadrys: Many Meetings Message-ID: References: <1993Mar30.001200.11940@atlantis.uucp> Date: Sun, 11 Apr 1993 03:26:22 GMT aaron@atlantis.uucp (Aaron Humphrey) writes: >ADMIN: Okay, after this the party is over, right? I'm just tying things up, >and I've been putting off writing this post because of Civilization, and my >feed died for a few days...okay, enough apologies. On with the prose. Oh, >and I really >do< need another character. I was running low... No, because there's still some of us at the ends of the earth who have EVEN SLOWER net access than others. So this is posted for Andrea Evans. === As the daylight strengthened, glinting in countless tiny sparks of colour in the carpet of dewdrops on Luthor and Serene's lawn, the last few party guests took their leave. Kadrys slipped away silently, having no desire to trouble his hosts further. Luthor was considerateness itself and Serene was unfailingly cheerful and open, but it had been a very long day and night for them both, and they deserved to be left in peace. He threaded his way on foot through the streets of the Elvish quarter, along elegantly meandering avenues whose curves were dictated by the lie of the land and the patterns of growth of the trees, rather than any preference for an imposed geometric street grid. Passing so many elves on his way, the local elvish language rippling in his ears at every turn, Kadrys could not prevent himself from wondering about the elf he had met at the party: such an odd name, just 'sage', and always with that pause in front of it, a pause that had the sound of words unsaid. And this '...sage' was evidently an archmage, no less a person than Mage Guild's chief Librarian. Kadrys had, in sheer self-defence, learned a surprising amount about magic down the ages (though he was no practitioner of the art). He knew very well that running a magical library offered rather more mental and physical hazards than would a stint in Trawm's fighting pit, capped with a game of chess with Finvarra, the lord of Faerie. But it was none of these attributes, remarkable as they were, that drew Kadrys' mind back again and again to their meeting. No, it was the terrible precision with which ...sage's face had revived, in the cruel mirror of youth, the visage of an elf dead countless years, the one true friend Kadrys had ever known as living man. ...sage's eerie resemblance to Elirivar, right down to those blank and blinded eyes, had shocked something deep within Kadrys: in itself no usual event. Again the image of the original rose to the vampire's mind: Elirivar, his foundling, his partner in crime, his tatane'ya (foster father). Kadrys shook his head in impatience. Useless to speculate, for now. Interestingly, ...sage had in turn seemed eager to speak privately with him, and had said that he would get in touch with Kadrys as soon as business permitted. Kadrys resolved with a mental shrug to let matters rest there. --- Absorbed in his own concerns, he had not paid much attention to the fading of the stately avenues of the elvish quarter into Generica's more commonplace streets, the thronging of the ways with ever more traffic, the littering of the cobbles with less picturesque things than dead leaves. But soon the odd restlessness that he had experienced upon rising from his recent "sleep" gradually made itself felt once more. His introspective mood faded, and he found himself taking a keen interest in the jostling activity, in the people that surrounded him on all sides. Yes, it was noisy, crowded and not all that clean. But, unlike the Elvish district, these were streets he understood in the marrow of his gutter-born bones. Human streets. Low streets. Though there was nothing remotely comforting in them to the eye, their familiarity, from the whores in the upper storey windows to the beggars underfoot, made them seem almost homely to Kadrys. A small knot of urchins spilled out of an alley, falling into a brawling knot at his feet. He stepped around the obstruction and moved on, not looking back. When the tiny grubby hand reached for his pocket he grabbed it without breaking stride, compelling the lad to scamper to stay afoot. If the boy had expected help, he was due for a disappointment. At the first sound of his howl of surprise and fear, the others vanished like water on red-hot iron. Though the boy had the wiry strength of hard living, though his body was covered with a thick layer of greasy dirt that had helped him wriggle out of a 'nab' in the past, his struggles were in vain. Beneath his first panic, his flood of venomous swearing, the worrying realisation struck him that the hand was not even gripping hard enough to hurt him. It was just not possible to loosen those fingers by a hair. It was like trying to break the hand of a statue. Kadrys dragged the boy into an empty side street before finally glancing down, studying the urchin's face with mild curiosity. "What is your name?" Kadrys murmured. Nothing in those quiet tones suggested irritation or even surprise at the attempted thievery. His immovable grip on the child's wrist did not tighten, but neither did it loosen. The boy continued his frantic wriggling and kicking and scratching, all of it entirely without effect. Only when he tried to bite the imprisoning hand did the man's other hand clamp itself to his head, push it away. "I said, what is your name?" No change at all in the even tones. The lad ceased his struggle, bracing his bare feet and standing as tall as he could. His pinched, grimy face was full of defiance. Only his rapid breathing, the sound of his pounding heart, the scent of adrenalin and sweat told Kadrys of the boy's terror. The boy drew a deep breath, summoning all his courage, then suddenly spat on the cobbles at Kadrys' feet, the old street gesture meaning 'You aren't even good enough to spit on!' Kadrys nodded as if the gesture confirmed something. "Good. You've learned at least that much. Names are power. Never give yours to strangers." After a pause while he studied the boy's face, he continued. "You've also learned not to make a show of your fear. So. At least you're not _totally_ incompetent." At the word, the hand on the boy's wrist tightened for a moment, just hard enough to make the joints grind without causing real pain. "That was the most sadly bungled attempt at a dip that I've seen in quite a while." Kadrys resumed, his tones oddly reminiscent of a schoolmaster, lecturing an errant pupil. The boy took in the words and the manner, and frowned in bewilderment. 'Th' mark ain't stropped 'bout gett'n dipped? He's frothin' cuz I crutched it up? Mus' be a pick short of a kit. Or else, ohshit he's a Guilder 'n' he's gunna cut me f'r freedippin'...' Kadrys' voice interrupted the boy's thoughts. "Because you've learned to hide your name, and more because you've learned to hide your fear, I'm going to give you a very precious prize. More precious than any purse, to you at least. Your life..." Hearing these words, the boy released his breath in inaudible relief. "_Don't_ relax! Not _ever_!" Kadrys snapped savagely, lunging low and thrusting his face toward the boy's. He watched in satisfaction as the wariness, the guarded terror rushed back. He hissed rapidly, viciously, sparing the boy nothing: "Frankly, I don't think you'll hang onto your useless life more than a year if you don't pick up a clue or ten. So listen, scum. Learn your craft, and you just might live. Fail, and die. Oh, not fast though, not pretty. Choking out your own black tongue on the end of a hangman's rope. Gutted on a guard's sword. Dissected slowly by a mage with an interest in anatomy, or in pain..." Hearing the words, somehow the boy knew, _knew_ in the depths of his being, they were the whole, brutal truth. Street truth. Watch, listen, learn, and live. Laze, skive, bignote, and die. Learn, live. Laze, die. Without warning, Kadrys opened his hands, spun the boy around and shoved him out of the alley into the street. The lad fled in a blur of skinny limbs, running without looking back. Kadrys leaned on the alley wall and watched the boy out of sight. The savagery had vanished from him without trace, and he nodded to himself in sombre satisfaction. 'He'll live now, and prosper, because of that lesson. Fear can be a gift of life, wherever carelessness means death...' He walked out of the alley, grinning whitely as a thought struck him: 'I wonder if he'll ever look back on that gift with the gratitude it deserves? Hah, perhaps I should've called out after him "You'll thank me for that someday..."' Shaking his head and chuckling acerbically, Kadrys walked on, until the streets of the Low City were left behind. --- Kadrys sauntered down the Arcade of Fountains, listening with a grin to the incongruous snatches of conversation that drifted past his ears. ... "So I said to him, 'If your fruit can't stand up to a little squeeze, then it's too ripe to buy anyway!' Made him go more purple than his grapes, _I_ can tell you!" ... "That's the third godsdamned arrow that's splintered on me this month. And it's always the same old excuse: 'You can't get the wood, you know'" ... "Well I up 'n' told 'im straight, 'If you cut that ale any more, Tomtom Thunderbuster, me 'n' my axe'll cut you!'" ... "My dear, you simply _must_ come to Lady Fen-Higshaw's At-home next Fiveday. Yes, I know about your camellias, and lovely they are I'm sure, but you'll just have to trust your gardener with them this once!" ... "Get that animal out of my fount-... oh, uhm... sorry..." That last one made Kadrys turn his head, look back down the street towards a garden behind a high stone wall. Suddenly, a white shape came vaulting effortlessly over the wall, to land with only a light click of hooves on the cobbles. Kadrys blinked in disbelief. A unicorn! Instantly he slipped aside into the shadow cast by a widely-spreading oak near one of the stately homes. Kadrys believed in discretion where unicorns were concerned. They had a distressing tendency to try to impale him on their horns: a danger perhaps even more, well, _grave_ than any wooden stake. Still, as he watched, the wariness ebbed away from his stance. _This_ unicorn was no more than a filly: barely half the size she would be when adult. She was evidently quite unaware of his presence: dancing round on tiny cloven hooves, leaping in and out of fountain after fountain for all the world like a carefree child skipping in rainfilled guttering. As he watched her leaping and prancing in yet another one of the arcade's fountains, the air around her filled with glittering droplets as pristine as diamonds, he found himself actually smiling with shared happiness. Watching her antics, basking in the sheer, simple pleasure in living that poured from her, his own spirits rose in response. Now he remained in hiding, not to protect himself, but to protect her, her joyousness, from the blight of his presence. He stood and watched her as she dwindled into the distance, before continuing on his own way. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: v2:[Jiri][Storm]: The Soulstar Sails... Message-ID: References: <10APR93.22983324.0092@VM1.MCGILL.CA> Date: Sun, 11 Apr 1993 03:29:31 GMT The sleek dark vessel sliced roughly through equally dark waves as it headed full out for the port of Generica. Over head the sky tossed and turned, insane black clouds billowing and growing. Thunder roared as the clouds screamed in rage, spitting bright forks of lightening down upon the sea. Not good weather for those aboard ships, the captain of the vessel knew. But there was little that he could do, for what man could coerce the weather? For long moments he stood thus, oddly delicate hands for a sailor gripping the rail with an unsuspected strength, steely blue eyes seeming to pierce through to the very heart of the building storm. Finally the captain of the Soulstar turned away from the rail and walked back towards the aft, shouting an order as he walked. "Ho, Taylor!" he called to a large man climbing in the rigging overhead, fastening clamps and tightening sheets. The man nodded as he finished up what he was doing, then barked a few short orders to the other sailors who helped him in his task. Leaving the others to finish up, the first mate climbed down and joined his captain on the aft deck. "Aye, Cap'n. She's almost done. We'll 'ave 'er up ta full in no time. What with the winds a comin', we'll near fly 'cross these thrice cursed wave. What 'n be yer fancy, Cap'n?" "No fancy Taylor, just worry. I know my ship, and I know my crew. No finer could I ask of either, and I know you'll have her running tops. But I also know that we've not a chance of outrunning that." The captain gestured at the black monster that even yet seemed closer then when last he'd looked. "Aye, Cap'n. I share yer thoughts. 'Tis no storm like any e'er seen by m'eyes, I tell yer that for nuthin'. We canna let our fears n' worries inta the men, though. We got no other choice but to try." The big man shuddered as he looked at the approaching storm front one more time, not that it was easy to NOT look at it. "You know what to do Taylor. I'll be in my cabin if you need me. I have a feeling that I'll have no time for rest later. You should probably get a little rest too, when the preparations are done. Make sure all hands are rested and ready. We'll use a clockwise rotation." "Aye Cap'n. Start a three way shift, then?" At the captains nod, Taylor turned and relayed the new orders to the men. Three way shift, clockwise rotation, three hours per shift. At least until the storm hits some of the crew can get some rest, he thought. Himself included. A few minutes later, the blue eyed captain of the Soulstar was sitting in his room, a glass of wine poured and a meal on his table. He ate in silence, his thoughts as dark and gloomy as the sky overhead. When his meal was done, he called his squire to clear the plates and call his two mates to him. He stood and looked out the small window set in the rear wall, watching the unholy weather. After a time, he turned away, crossing over to his closet. He stripped off his jacket and the white shirt underneath, choosing another in his customary black. He chose another jacket too, and then donned his cloak, fastening it by the black stone butterfly clasp that he had used for countless years. In memory... Just as he pulled on a pair of well used black leather gloves, there came the expected knock at the door. "Enter," he said in a strong but soft voice. The door swung soundlessly open, and Taylor entered, followed by another, much smaller, brown haired man. "Ah, Taylor, Magarth," he nodded to each, "I've been expecting you. We must go over some things." "Things, Cap'n?" Taylor raised an eyebrow. "What're you gettin' up ta, sir?" "You'll hear soon enough my friend. Please, sit down." He indicated two chairs in front of his table which his two mates gratefully took. He waited for them to sit, then went once more to his closet, taking forth a small black iron bound chest, which he placed on the table. He took a key from his jacket and unlocked the casket. Slowly he opened it, being very careful not to set off the trap contained in the lock. He found the secret catch and smiled as the dart slid slowly from its' slot, the spring behind it still unreleased. His mates didn't seem surprised at all, for they had often watched their captain open his chest, though neither would have dared to try and do it themselves, especially without his permission. As small and harmless as the dart looked, it was coated with an invisible and very effective poison. He laid the dart aside, being careful to wrap it in a cloth first, then reached inside pulling out a smaller black box which seemed to be made of shiny black stone, though it could have easily been a foreign metal or hardwood. Now Taylor and Magarth both raised their eyebrows, for this box neither had been privvy to before. The black clad man set it on the table top as carefully as he had set the dart. He pulled a thong from around his neck and held up a key, which seemed to be made of the same material as the box. "Now, gentlemen, comes the part I called you here for. I do hope that you still wear the pendants a gave you?" Both men nodded and pulled forth the gold chains they wore around their necks. Their captain took them, removing the odd shaped pendants from the chains are pulling forth a similar one from his own neck. He fit the three strange shapes together, and they clicked place like pieces of a puzzle. The first and second mate of the Soulstar both gasped in surprise, for they beheld a clever key. The captain pushed the three part key into a slot on the other side of the black box. He waited for a count of three, then placed the first key, the one that matched to box, into another slot in the middle of the lid, one that had appeared as the first key was turned. He waited a count of five this time, ere pulling the lid straight up in a quick and practised motion. A green mist floated up from the box, and the man in black waved it aside. "An explosive and very flammable gas," he explained, noticing the question on his first mates face. "If the box isn't opened in the right way, and at the right time intervals, it is ignited, destroying the contents, and likely the clumsy openner as well." He pulled from the box two scrolls and three matching keys, these ones carved from a strange white stone. He handed a scroll to each of his mates, along with one key each. The third key he placed around his own neck. "You doubtless have seen that storm, and what it portends. Lives will be lost, possibly our own. If the ship survives," he said with a pained voice, "and I do not, she is yours, to be split equally between you two." He held up a hand to stall the protests that Taylor and Magarth both began. "No arguing with me gentlemen. If I die in this storm, you two shall take over command and ownership of the Soulstar. You can deal with the cargo as you see fit, though I suspect that our current plan would still be the most profitable. On the other hand," he continued, his voice once more tight, "if the ship does not survive, and you do, follow the instructions on the scrolls I have given you. They will tell you where to go and what to do. The keys I have provided will allow access to a certain place where I have, ah, stored some goods that might be of use. You will notice that I also carry a key, and if we all live through this storm, we shall go together. The scroll does not give directions. You will have to speak to a certain man indicated to find out more. He will know what has happened when you show up. Show him the key and speak the words that I first said unto you when I made you my mates. I trust you did not forget them?" "Of course not, Cap'n. You said..." Taylor was cut off by a sharp wave and look from his superior. His face turned red as he realised his near fumble. Words that were spoken once and never repeated aloud were done so for a reason, and saying them would only hurt their purpose if others overheard. After a moment of silence, he looked his friend in the eye and saw again the troubled look that had set in since the storm was first sighted. "Why do ye speak of yer death so?" Taylor asked, concern in his voice. "What was it that you saw? E'er since you first set eyes upon that black weather ye have been as dark and gloomy as it has." The other turned away to look out the window again and it was long before he answered. "I know not what troubles me Taylor. I only know that when I saw that storm I had a deep foreboding and knew that death was coming. She rides the waves upon white frothy horses, and She will reap the fields of men with her cursed scythe. The feeling of doom has not left me- it's only grown steadily as the storm came closer." The captain shuddered, then turned to address his mates once more. "Please, leave me and go about your duties. I would be alone, and we have not much time ere the storm o'ertakes us. You know what to do." He turned back to the window and waited for Taylor and Magarth to leave. Taylor started towards his friend, wanting to speak some more, but Magarth layed a restraining hand upon his arm and whispered, "Come on Taylor. Leave him be." The large sailor reluctantly turned and left with the second mate. When the door shut behind them, the captain sighed and touched the butterfly shaped cloak clasp at his shoulder. Even then the rain began to fall outside. Thus did Cain of Kilrahh stand, looking out at the angry sea and waiting for Lady Death to come riding upon the crest of the Storm. -Dani Treutler. [admin]: Please do not use Cain and the Soulstar without emailing me first. If you would like to help me write the Flight From the Storm, I welcome you- just mail me first and we'll talk. Thanks to Hutch for posting this for me, and for the excellent insight regarding the nature of this storm. [You're welcome] MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [Storm] Kadrys: The Wind Beneath My Wings Message-ID: Date: Sun, 11 Apr 1993 05:14:35 GMT [ADMIN] This is posted for Andrea Evans Kadrys' footsteps were now more rapid, his heart beginning to beat harder. His previous vague restlessness had steadily deepened, intensifying into an urgent, eerily driven mood. He felt charged with energy, with the life he had absorbed from his deep and restful sleep in the earth, the life he had witnessed on the streets. The same urge that had sent the young unicorn dancing in celebration of life now thrummed in his taut muscles. The stolen blood of countless victims pounded relentlessly in his veins, radiated fever heat from his skin. At that moment, the streets darkened subtly, and he looked up to see the early outriding wisps of iron-grey clouds, banked high and wide, still very far away but drawing steadily nearer. As he gazed out to sea, into the heart of the approaching storm, the first touch of breeze caressed his face, ran icy, teasing fingers through his black hair. Kadrys hearkened to the secrets of the wind, tasting its bitter tang, breathing deeply of its rumour of cold and salt and distant driving rains. The breeze lifted leaves and papers, sent them hurrying away down the street with an uneasy, skittering motion, like harbingers. But Kadrys paid them no heed. He was listening with all his ears to the song of the wind. It spoke to him of a dream of flight, of becoming a part of the storm's winds, of speed beyond even his strength, of the mighty gales as servants to his wings rather than barriers. A wild light glittered in his eyes as he yielded to the unearthly lust that rose within him: a lust not for blood, but for flight, for speed, for driving his body to its uttermost limits and beyond, for riding on the wings of the storm. 'Yes...' thought a calm, detached corner of Kadrys' mind, 'It'll be a wonderful way to burn off my excess energy...' And then even that thought subsided, and Kadrys' whole mind and soul was given over to enjoying the experience, this strange and rising need. And then he could bear to be still no longer. He began to run. As the stormwinds rose, and the people scattered, scurrying away to bolt themselves behind their fragile wooden doors and imagine themselves safe, Kadrys ran along the empty street, straight into the growing force of the wind. It caught at the open neck of his shirt, billowing then shredding the silk until it was flying from him in tatters. He ran on, unheeding, his eyes wide and wild, staring, his pale face exalted as he revelled in this rare indulgence. His speed increased until he was running faster than any horse could gallop, and then faster still. As a silent blur of speed too rapid for human eyes to behold, he reached the end of the seaward road, the T-junction where it curved away along the top of a seashore cliff. He didn't even slow down. Bringing both feet together at the brink, he leaped out into empty space. Arms widespread, he arched outwards, lying for an endless moment crucified on empty air. Time itself seemed to slow with his motionlessness, so sudden and so complete after all his reckless speed. And then, his outflung arms slowly warped and altered: fingers lengthening, stretching out to caress the air, black webbing spreading over them, turning them into wings. He transformed leisurely, deliberately, for once taking the time to savour every tiny detail of the transformation rather than using the instantaneous change that prudence dictated. As gradually as if the deadly fall had no power to harm him, the plummeting human form shrank and changed, until at last a bat swooped low over the sands. Arcing out of the dive, it arrowed away over the waves in a sudden burst of speed, dwindling until its dark form was lost against the backdrop of the boiling black thunderheads far out to sea. --- Kadrys clawed at the turbulent air with his wings, reaching for more height. Already, the coastline of Generica was lost to sight, far below, far behind. Ahead the storm loomed across the heavens: it massed like the smoke from all the fires of Hell. Luridly lit from within by flickering lightnings, it engulfed the entire westward sky. Kadrys had been striving against the rising headwind, beating toward the storm, for hours. The first heady blaze of anticipation had begun to ebb in the face of that sustained, fruitless exertion. But now he was close enough. He spread his wings wide, gliding in a tight circle, holding his place in the sky. Soon the storm would be close enough for the real winds to reach him. Soon. He swivelled his head as he circled, keeping an assessing eye on the towering spires and gaping abysses of roiling black thunderclouds, their windy chasms lit now and again with blinding bluish flares of lightning. Higher and closer the roaring thunderheads loomed. Kadrys faltered in midair as the breeze he was riding suddenly failed, leaving him in a spot of dead calm air, warm and chokingly humid. Then it hit. A solid wall of wind fell on Kadrys like an avalanche. His piercing bat-shriek of pain was torn away from his mouth and swallowed in the screaming of the wind. Had he been on land, his broken body would have been ground into its own grave. As it was, he was smashed downward several thousand feet, the snapped bones of his wings ripping the veined membranes to shreds. Blood sprayed from torn wing-arteries, the droplets swept away like red rain. Kadrys hauled his shattered wings in and dropped helplessly, his mind reeling with pain and noise and disorientation as the winds played with him, hitting him from side to side like a ball. Then, the torn wing membranes started to draw themselves together, healing. The light strength of the splintered bones returned. Soon they would be whole. But would it be soon enough? Now he was thankful for every wingbeat that had brought him to his earlier, dizzy elevation. The wildly spinning surface of the waves was rushing closer, closer. The winds seemed to scream with laughter at their maimed plaything. There. The last gash in the crucial membranes had healed. The bones still hurt like hell, but there was no time. No time. He strove for control, holding his wings half-closed as a falcon will when stooping, allowing only the tips of his wings to extend fully into the ravening blast. Slowly, his unnatural muscles howling stress at him with the effort, he strove to turn, pull out of the breakneck dive. And somehow the blistering turn held. A mere hundred feet above the slate-hard waves, a black streak arrowed past followed by a roaring blast of wind. In the calm instant at the top of the arc, Kadrys paused. Incredibly, a feral grin bared his needle fangs. Now. He flung his wings wide just as the front of the winds caught up to him, and swatted him on before them. But this time, instead of a lifeless, helpless leaf, his movement was like an arrow, like a peregrine: full of purpose, of direction, incomparably faster than both. Inside his skull, Kadrys laughed maniacally. 'Got me by surprise last time, you hellwind. I know you're here now. I'm healed, I'm strong, I know what to expect from you now. Cmoncmon, FASTER, I'm still flying, you can do better than that!' His mental voice scaled up into a wild shriek of ecstasy as the wind impossibly picked up speed, faster, faster, until he was screaming toward land at an unholy speed: a ravening pace far beyond anything a winged creature should ever know. He never saw what hit him. A blinding white flare of agony, and Kadrys was spiralling down, one wing ash and a stump of charcoaled bone, half his chest blown away, his labouring heart bared to the icy whip of the rain. Now, he was no longer fighting for flight. Now it was all he could do to stay conscious. Pain. Yes. There. Pain is precious. Fight for it. Hold onto it (the burning, agony roiling in my guts) hold onto it tight. Pain means I still have a body. Pain means I'm still alive. Somehow, amid the sickening torment, the reeling shock, the word bobbed to the surface of his thoughts and floated there. Lightning. I've been struck by lightning. Ridiculous. The storm is leagues away. That bastard reached out and hit me. What bastard? That storm. It's alive. ... Then I'm dead. (In the whirling world outside his mind, winds toyed with a falling scrap of charred flesh, taking it by its one remaining wing, idly shaking it to and fro as a cat will shake a mouse.) Yowling low, like cats, the winds listened with casual approval to the silent screaming of their prey. For far away within the heart of the storm, a marid, frustrated and slightly bored, was amusing itself in the way all thoroughly nasty infants do, by pulling wings off insects. It had already ripped off one wing, but carefully, ever so carefully. It wouldn't do to have the insect die just yet. It was so much more fun to watch it squirm as long as possible. The marid had some time yet before it would get to play in the big sandbox and have REAL fun. Still some time to kill. Pick up the insect, get it away from those waves. Don't want it smashed. Not while it wriggled and squeaked so well. (The winds scooped up the falling body and it shot upward in a dizzying funnel of screaming air. The semiconscious thing hovered, spinning with delirious slowness, in the eye of a whirlwind. The air was warm and still and dead, thrumming with static electricity and anticipation of pain.) Now. Why not play wishbone? Grab the wing, grab the body and make a wish... Kadrys felt a sudden burst of air pressure clamp down all over his body. Though he fought it with the last pitiful rags of his strength, slowly his sole wing was unfolded, dragged out by rushing air until it was at its fullest stretch. With terrible deliberation, the air pressure increased until it almost splintered his remaining ribs. Then, the crushing body of air started to shear: slowly but surely, Kadrys was being pulled limb from limb. He spent the last breath in his body in a savage scream of hatred and defiance. It mattered not at all. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [Storm] Kadrys: Bat Out Of Hell Message-ID: References: Date: Sun, 11 Apr 1993 06:04:23 GMT [ADMIN] For you who don't remember what came just before: Kadrys felt a sudden burst of air pressure clamp down all over his body. Though he fought it with the last pitiful rags of his strength, slowly his sole wing was unfolded, dragged out by rushing air until it was at its fullest stretch. With terrible deliberation, the air pressure increased until it almost splintered his remaining ribs. Then, the crushing body of air started to shear: slowly but surely, Kadrys was being pulled limb from limb. He spent the last breath in his body in a savage scream of hatred and defiance. It mattered not at all. [ADMIN] This is posted for Andrea Evans A black and tattered scrap of flesh was dropped, forgotten utterly as the marid was distracted from its game. The broken thing fell toward the thrashing waves, a toy instantly discarded as soon as the marid saw new playfellows. Two of them. Spoiling its fun, kicking holes in its watercastle. Gonna hit them hard. Make them pay. --- Awareness rushed back to Kadrys in a roar of wind and a sickening sensation of falling. But the terrible sense of crushing air pressure, of a mind, vast in might but somehow petty, taking idle pleasure in his pain, was gone without trace. Even the winds had faded away, and the airs were for the moment no more than naturally turbulent. 'Great.' Kadrys thought, 'Now all I have to worry about is the stopping.' The phrase echoed ludicrously through his head: "It's not the falling you have to worry about, it's the stopping..., it's the stopping..." 'Damn your soul, Gytr,' he laughed, weakly, hysterically, as the world spun round and the waves rushed up to meet him. 'The last thing I think about is NOT gonna be one of your bad jokes...' Sobering, he estimated the nearness of the waves from the hazy blur of grey water and grey sky, then looked over at the red ruin of his chest, his lung only now starting to regrow, his other wing still little more than a melted spike of bone. 'Not enough time. Not even close. I'll just have to risk it. At least the winds're gone. Hell, it isn't as if I've got a choice.' He gathered his strength, concentrating. Fifty feet. Ten. Five. One. >From out of the sky, a falling shape, a dark, winged thing, strangely crippled, plunged like a stone. It struck the surface of the waves, vanishing in a burst of spray which swirled in the air like mist. Mist. He had made it. He had transformed, and the winds had not returned. Kadrys had not resorted to the mistform earlier, despite all his pain, for he knew that as a mist he would be utterly vulnerable, helpless in the grasp of the demon-winds. There would not have even been the chance to outfly them that the bat shape had afforded. As mist, he would simply have been dispersed across all the airs of the world, losing himself atom by atom to the relentless force of the wind. And it might not even have ended there. Who knows, had he died as a mist, perhaps such a being as that storm could have somehow enslaved his essential self, or worse still, absorbed or destroyed his soul completely. But he had no time, and no cause, for feelings of relief. He had to heal. He had to feed. And he had to get out of the reach of that storm, before it caught up to him and decided it wanted to finish playing with him. An onlooker, had there been any amid the deepening gloom and rising waves, would have seen a wisp of white sea mist, hovering in place over the water for some time. Then in an instant the mist vanished, replaced by a bat, which flew fast but low and somehow furtively, almost wave-hopping in an effort to stay out of the wind. The path it took led directly toward the shoreline that still lay beyond the horizon to the east. --- The outriding breezes, natural echoes of the unearthly winds that lay behind them, helped Kadrys on his way. He pounded onward, no more than a wingspan above the whitecaps, at once taking advantage of ground-effect and also hopefully remaining unnoticed. The knotted wingmuscles on his chest and back were by now burning slabs of concentrated fatigue, his left wing and chest were both still throbbing from their recent regrowth. After his recent exertions, his earlier superabundance of energy was now quite exhausted. Though he could never have survived had he not been so charged in the first place, he was now aching with desperate thirst. And from horizon to bleak horizon, there was no living thing in sight. Until that fleck of white on the rim of the eastern sky. A ship. Kadrys blinked in disbelief as he drew nearer. 'A heavybellied trader. With all sails set. Trying to ride the winds in to port, the blind fools. They've taken it for a normal storm, close to, when it's hell's own hurricane, far off now but coming in like a dragon on the stoop. The way that storm's roaring east, unless they drop their sails, their rigging, hell, their masts, they're not going to have a hope. Any winds travelling at that speed, malicious or mindless, will grab anything projecting above deck and use it to shove her under...' Kadrys' bat muzzle snarled in hunger and impatience. 'So what? I drink my fill, I leave, they get what's coming to them. Stupid, to have their sails up. Stupid to mistake it for a normal storm. What're they out here for, a joyride?' And that last thought stopped him cold in his attempts to assuage his guilt. 'A joyride. Well that's what _you_ were out here for, wasn't it, Kadrys? Yeah, it'd feel great to ride the winds of the storm. Suuure did feel good, didn't it. For a moment. How did the rest of it feel, ehh? Well worth the trip out, wasn't it? Wasn't it? And now, when you went out _looking_ for excitement, though you bloody KNOW better, and damnnear copped more of it than you could live with, _now_ you're gonna come over cautious and wise? Now you're out of the worst of it, you'll just run and let a shipful of poor sods drown?' He sighed. If he was healed enough to feel that sort of self-loathing, he'd just better help them. Or he'd never quite let himself hear the end of it. 'I _am_ a damned fool.' he sighed wearily inside his head. 'What am I, in training for paladinhood?' But this time, his mental tone was one of ironic self-parody, rather than bitter excoriation. --- The two-masted trading vessel "Gentle Zephyr", returning from Rameshan with a full cargo of spices and oils, drove before the wind. It was making good speed, said the captain. No cause for concern. The Zephyr'd be in port saf and sound before the storm hit, the captain had said. But Deray the cooper sighed uneasily, putting down his mallet and leaning his weight absently on the mended barrel of cinnamon. Wrapped in his own vague forebodings, he didn't notice a faint wisp of mist forming behind him. He heaved another elaborate sigh, a luxury you didn't get up on deck where the mates could hear you. He muttered aloud: "Well I dunno. I dun' care _what_ Cap'n said, I didn' like th'look of tha' storm. Looked like a rarin' bad storm t'me..." "You're right..." a thready voice whispered and Deray spun round to see a - a monster, a dead thing, a lich standing behind him, clothed in tattered finery, but starved as no man could be and live: no more than a skeleton clad in skin and wasted strings of gristle and great writhing webworks of veins. Deray would have screamed at the sight, but their eyes had met, and now there was no need for sound. No need even for fear. Under the monster's burning stare, Deray relaxed and the horror faded from his face, replaced by a strange expression: a look of - of need, of desire, almost a look of love: a dim and dreaming echo of the emotions shining on the monster's face. In the galley, in the fo'c'sle, elsewhere on board it was the same: a man working alone, a stranger's quiet voice, startlement burned away in a fiery gaze. Until, swiftly, five men slept, pale and weakened but still alive. Until Kadrys was whole and well and strong for the efforts that yet lay ahead. He flicked into bat shape, flew straight for the mainmast. There was no time to explain to the captain, no time for talk at all. When he switched back to his true shape, there was a pause of silent disbelief, then a rising chorus of cries and curses from the men on deck below. Silhouetted against the lowering sky, his black hair and the white tatters of his shirt both flying ragged in the wind, he looked every bit the harbinger of doom. Without a pause, balanced on the rocking spar like a cat, he reached down and grasped a loop of cable holding the topsail to the spars. He snapped the cable like thread, then hurried along the spar to the next loop of cable, snapped that in turn. One by one, in less time than it takes to tell, the lines holding up the topsail were broken until the last few loops tore loose, the sheet of canvas billowing out into the air and away. When the sail was gone, Kadrys began kicking and wrenching frantically at the horizontal spars that had supported it, splintering and then snapping them off one by one before hurling them overboard. When the men realised what he was doing, their shouts redoubled, though no-one seemed eager to approach a man capable of such strength. But then, with the topsail and its spars gone, Kadrys had to move lower on the mast to deal with the mainsail. Down there, he was within easier reach of the men. The captain, a swarthy Rameshander, had vanished below, but had reappeared with a scimitar and was screaming curses at his men, threatening them with the drawn steel until some of the boldest were driven to climb up towards Kadrys. These unfortunates he simply froze, held with his mind before they could get close enough to be injured by the falling rigging. Soon, the mainsail and its spars had gone the way of the topsail. The captain, demented with rage, was pacing at the foot of the truncated mainmast, howling for Kadrys to come down on deck and be butchered in repayment for butchering his ship. Tempting as it was, there was no time to play his fool's games. No time at all. Flicking into bat shape, Kadrys swooped over to the foremast and snatched hastily at cables, ripping down the sails and kicking with ever- increasing desperation at the spars, splintering them gradually and heaving the fragments overboard, following them with chunks of the masts themselves. In the end, only two jutting lengths of mast each a little higher than a man could reach, were all that remained of the "Gentle Zephyr"'s rigging. Standing somewhat unsteadily on the highest remaining splinter of mast, Kadrys drew breath to explain his actions, and realised belatedly that it was no longer necessary. As he watched, the captain was 'sedated' over the head with a belaying-pin by the ship's doctor, who prescribed the patient enforced bed-rest in his cabin. Kadrys smiled his gratitude to the doctor. 'Thank you, Varner,' Kadrys thought, 'I knew you were a man of common sense. Glad to see you awake again so soon afterwards...' The first mate cupped his hands round his mouth, and shouted over the rising wind while pointing at the now visibly approaching mass of stormcloud. "We understand! Storm coming fast - too much for ship! Had to ditch rigging or we'd sink!" Kadrys smiled and nodded, allowing himself to slump against the mast in a moment of relief and weariness, gathering his energies for what lay ahead. He remebered the knowledge he had seen in his victims' minds: that the crew were seasoned men, unlike their captain, and had been through storms before. Kadrys had done what he could. The task remaining, riding out the storm, the crew could handle on their own. Now, it was out of his hands. If the ship sank despite his efforts, there would be nothing more he could do to keep so many men alive. "That's no ordinary storm!" he warned them. "Do everything you can!" He could of course have told them more, but he knew that there are times when you can say too much. Telling them about the evil and power of the thing inside the storm could well destroy their already fragile hope, make any attempt to survive seem doomed to inevitable failure. The mate nodded without surprise at Kadrys' words. Grinning with bitter sarcasm directed at the Zephyr's 'indisposed' leader, he transferred the man's title ironically to Kadrys: "Aye, _Cap'n_! Everything's secured..." And indeed as Kadrys concentrated he could hear the rest of the crew working like devils belowdecks, lashing the cargo firmly in place, sealing hatches and locking doors. Good. That left only those abovedecks who had seen his face at close enough range to recognise him again. "One last thing, everyone!" he cried. The words were meaningless of course. However, they had the desired effect: the eyes of all those on deck moved to his face. His eyes blazed suddenly, a single pulse like twin red novae, and one command was burned into all their brains: *** Forget me! *** Then the flash faded, and the men were left looking dazedly at the stumps where the storm had swept away the masts of their ship. A scrap of fog or stormcloud was torn away from the ship by the wind and vanished unnoticed amid the flying spray. Later, dark wings dwindled into the distance, heading for the shore. MagicHutchHeader From: jclifford@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (jen/cliffy :)) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Where are we?? Message-ID: <1993Apr12.112715.4987@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 12 Apr 93 11:27:15 -0400 [ADMIN-ish] just a query--does anyone know what is going on? I'd like to post but I haven't the slightest *clue* what is going on any more--Easter break and a fifteen page paper will do that to you, I suppose. Last I remember we were in a whirlpool... jen/cliffy ;) "But if you don't stand up, you don't stand a chance." --Genesis MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [storm] A Boring Basement Message-ID: <1993Apr12.171155.6247@data-io.com> Date: Mon, 12 Apr 1993 17:11:55 GMT Kardia awoke to the sound of the earth crying. She opened her eyes, her body still as she listened for the sound again. She saw that she was in a house, and when she heard the boom and then the groan she realized where she was. In Mrs. Cludne's boarding house, under a wall of brick and stone; and she was hearing Wind hunting for death. There were loud voices in the house. Kardia dressed quickly, packed all her things and put them back on her back. She went down the stairs, jumping once as a gust found its way around the wall, boomed as it hit the house, and rattled all the windows. The solid hiss of rain finally was recognizable, closer to the front of the house. She saw the ordered chaos of all the Cludne grandchildren and the other guests who were up as they gathered provisions and water to bring down to the cellar. "Kardia!" even over the hubbub of all the others on the lower floor Kardia recognized the imperious voice of Mrs. Cludne. "Get the other guests!" Kardia nodded and turned to sprint back up the stairs. She missed the first step because of the missing ball of her left foot and banged one knee hard against the stairs. She swore as the pain bloomed, but managed to get up and hobble up the stairs. She was still swearing as she reached the top landing and started banging on all the closed doors. Pale bulbous eyes amid paler face looked out at her from behind the chain of the door. Kardia calmed herself in the face of the fear in those eyes. "Sorry about that." she said a touch contritely, "But there's a monster of a storm coming down and Mrs. Cludne wants us all in the cellar, where it'd be safer." Quietly, the pale head bobbed in acknowledgement and the door closed. A touch subdued, Kardia went around and knocked on all the other doors and was rewarded with three other guests that grunted, nodded, and went back into their rooms to pack up. She went back down the stairs, grabbed a roll off a basket of bread one of the kids was carrying down and, while chewing on it, picked up another basket and headed down the stairs to the underground rooms. The ceilings were just barely tall enough for her to stand upright and not bang her head; but Kardia still bent her neck and back just a little, not used to the ceiling being quite that close. "Does that not hurt?" asked a quiet, accented voice below her. Kardia stepped out of the way of the folks behind her and looked over, into wide eyes as pale as ice. Eyes that could easily see in the shadows of these underground rooms. Eyes that belonged to a girl with skin whiter than the bread Kardia was eating and with the wider bone structure of one of the digging races. A dwarven child. Kardia blinked and nodded her head, "If I keep this up it's gonna hurt something awful in a while... but I'm worried more about hurting my head against the ceiling..." The child only smiled and said carefully, as with a different language than the one that she was brought up with, "You are..." she held up her hand and squinted, "four fingerwidths from ceiling. You cannot... hurt head on it." Kardia looked quietly at the solemn child and then blinked, sighed and, carefully, straightened. The child giggled quietly to herself at the look on Kardia's face when she didn't hit anything. Kardia gave the child a disgusted look at the giggling and the child quieted instantly. A little shocked at how quickly the kid quieted, Kardia smiled in apology and said, "It's O.K. Sometimes I need a push..." She only got a blankish look, "I need someone to tell me when I'm doing something silly." The smile she was rewarded with warmed her. "Hmmm... I'm going to help with carrying things down here, could you watch my things?" The child took a moment to translate and then said carefully, "How you know I not steal?" Kardia laughed softly, "Because you ask such questions... Here... What's your name?" "Tourmaline..." said the soft voice so softly Kardia had to bend down to hear. "Tourmaline Rose. Mam names me Linny ..." "I like Rose." said Kardia then she laughed softly at the wrinkled nose. "All right, Linny... here." Kardia piled her bags around the child, and placed her harp box in her hands. "Oh." said Linny, her eyes wide. "You play?" Kardia nodded and said, "I will." Her eyes slanted into a smile, "If you're here when I come back for it..." Kardia strode off with the basket to a peal of giggles... * * * Only an hour later Kardia was half regretting her promise. She hadn't played for months before this, and the metal picks were starting to create blisters on the fingers they were supposed to be protecting. The new denizins of the cellar seemed to have decided that since she had a harp she must be the entertainment for the day. She'd quickly run out of Generica and Nexus related music as her data stores hadn't been that fat on something that was regarded as purely entertainment. In fact, she'd been a little frightened by the intensity with which they'd paid attention to a song that, under her stores, had been simply labled 'folksong'. To her ears it had been nothing more than a formula god creation story; but it seemed to have more meaning to the folks here than she really knew. She sighed and her hands wandered over the strings. Her mind came back to focus as she saw fear in the eyes around her. She then realized that her wandering mind had started accompanying the most evident sound. The sounds of the storm outside. The notes were eerie with the treble of wailing rush of the winds and the bass boom of the thunder. She shook her head, stilled her fingers and the strings. She was surprised by the scattering of applause through the tightly confined group. She grinned her surprise and then nodded her thanks. Then folks split up into small, talking groups. Kardia sighed and then grinned in self-deprication. They'd just been polite, waiting for her to be finished. Kardia took off the metal picks from the tips of her fingers and gently rubbed the places that had started to get rubbed raw. "Strong hands." said a gruff voice. She looked up into eyes almost exactly like Linny's but in a body that had completely fulfilled what was only a promise in the child's. "Strong enough to carry the story of MoltenHeart through to its true ending." The pale eyes narrowed just a touch and then the dwarven woman spoke words as harsh as the splintering of rock. In the face of Kardia's incomprehension the woman smiled a rueful smile and shook her head, "And doesn't even know the language used to write that song into the Stone in the Dark. Blood Child of the Moon's Heart, you were caring and careful of the telling, even in your ignorance. Such memories are best kept with care." Kardia's eyes widened at what the dwarven woman called her, and at the warning she didn't really know what to say, so she simply nodded, all the while cursing the person who'd put that song in a datastore without any notation as to its origins. The dwarf woman nodded back and smiled, "Good." she said and stepped away. Kardia sighed a deep sigh; and to take her mind off the near call, she pulled out her knitting and she calmed herself with the steady, slow work. * * * Six hours later, she was entertaining Linny again, this time with a couple of drop spindles and a ball of wool roving. She pulled a section of roving off for the child, and then a section for herself. Watching the child emulate her movements, Kardia thinned the roving for a length about as long as her forearm and then rolled it up her leg, putting a clockwise spin into that bit of roving. When it was spun tight enough to hold together, she tightly tied the end of the newly formed yarn at the base of the spindle, against the whorl, brought it around under the whorl to catch on the stub end of the spindle, and then back up to a half hitch near the top of the knitting yarn thick spindle. Very different from the thread slender spindle that Peter had been using. Kardia suspended the spindle from its yarn, gave it a twirl with her fingers, and drew fiber from the roving at an even width for a knitting yarn. The twist went up into the draw, the yarn formed over the still spinning spindle, and she kept drawing until the spindle stopped. She deftly caught the still spindle before it could spin in the opposite direction, flipped the half-hitch off the top with a practiced thumb, uncaught the bit under the whorl, and wound the resultant yarn onto the shaft of the spindle. Until she had about the length of the spindle plus the amount it would take to catch it under the whorl again. With a flick of the wrist and thumb, she had the yarn caught underneath and the half hitch in place and she was spinning another length of yarn. Linny tried to emulate the smooth actions of Kardia. The yarn she started with was too loose, so when she tried dropping the spindle to twirl it the whole thing dropped to the floor. A quiet scowl and and some twisting later, Linny tried again and suceeded in getting the spindle to drop and turn, but in the wrong direction. The spindle hit the floor with a clack. "Sorry," said Kardia a little contritely, "you have to spin the new yarn in the same direction as the yarn you start with, otherwise, you undo the spin in the starting yarn." She showed Linny what the difference was in the clockwise and counterclockwise directions and sent her on her way. More twisting and time and the spindle made its slow way down the floor. A smile from Kardia and the lumpy yarn was gently twirled onto the shaft. Again and again and soon Linny had a lump of yarn that was getting more and more even with each arm length. Kardia was fascinated with the dwarven child's patience and persistance. She hadn't known many who could sit this still and concentrate for this long. After three hours Linny's spindle was full. Pulling the resultant cone off the spindle, Kardia took her first cone as well. She put the two ends together, tied them to the base of Linny's empty spindle, hooked it, hitched it and gave it a wild twirl in a counter clockwise direction. The yarn plied beautifully. The two plys evened out the bumps in Linny's and with the opposite twist for the ply, the yarn softened as well. The spindle filled and overfilled with the two plies, but as neatly as Linny wrapped the yarn around the spindle, the yarn still held its shape until she finished plying both cones onto it. Kardia smiled to see just how full it was and wound the yarn into a ball bigger than two fists put together and gave it to the girl. "For you." Kardia said. Linny smiled, took the ball and turned to run off. "Wait." Kardia said, and the girl froze like a frightened deer. Kardia extended the simple, wooden drop spindle, "Don't forget your tool, Mistress." The widened eyes asked the question that couldn't be voiced. Kardia simply nodded and the girl took the spindle as well and ran off with a small burst of laughter. Kardia grinned and went back to her spinning, the sweater needed more yarn before it could be finished. The memory of the small laughter drowned out the keening of the wind, the crash of the thunder and the steady pounding of the rain over her head. * * * The rest of the interminatable time in the cellar was only punctuated by two or three crashing falls of something in the house above. They slept when the clocks said that night had fallen, though the darkness was no different, and spent more time entertaining themselves. The card tables had been brought down along with the provisions and a card party was begun by the various patrons of the house. Kardia spent the time finishing her sweater, first. Then she pulled out a needle slim brass drop spindle and a small brass bowl. She pulled out the last bundle of moonsilk fibers from her pack, pulled a small section of it away from the main body of fibers; and put the rest back into her pack. The section she pulled off she spread in a towel, a thin layer of shining gold fibers, and rolled the towel up with the fibers snug between the layers. A makeshift, easily travelling distaff that still controlled the fibers. No matter what Andrea's answer might be, Kardia still needed the thread to do either her bidding or, perhaps, something for 'Raelf. She could always use the thread. The dampness in the air helped make the fibers easily managable and a bowl used to catch the drips from a single leak in the 'roof' of the basement held plenty of water to wet the tips of her fingers with. She started it much as she has the wool spindle, but with a thread too fine for most to see in the candlelight of the basement made of three of the fibers twisted together between thumb and forefinger. The spindle spun while supported by the bowl, so the weight of it would not break the thread, and spun as quickly as a top to put enough spin into the slenderness of the thread. Since the fibers were so much longer, the draw was almost as long as her forearm. So, quietly occupied, Kardia watched the card games and the conversations. * * * Kardia woke suddenly. For a long moment she just lay in her travelling bedroll, completely disoriented in the total dark. She did the mental flip she'd learned at 18 and the room glowed red from the body warmth around her. She sighed softly was startled to hear the sound of her own sigh. She smiled into the dark silence and went back to sleep knowing that the worst of the storm was over. -- Liralen Li | "... and how you feel can make it real aka Phyllis Rostykus | Real as anything you've seen... " li@Data-IO.com | Peter Gabriel _US_ MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Help! I'm not a merman! Message-ID: <1993Apr12.202709.4993@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 12 Apr 93 20:27:08 -0400 [ADMIN: Well, it seems that Aleric is in a fix. As far as I can tell, Kyar left him on the deck of the Rhymand, but the others seem to think him lost at sea. So I will go with that assumption with this...] Following Kyar's hand pointing at the Rhymand, Aleric saw that the ship was pulling away from the sinking ship lest it be caught in the pull. Aleric glanced around and saw that he was momentarily free of wraiths and able to leave the black ship. He turned and quickly leaped from the poopdeck to the lower decks and the rail. Grabbing one rope still tying the ships together, he slashed the line and swung out over the waters. Unfortunately for Aleric, just about the time he was midswing the mariners in the rigging of the Rhymand cut their end of the rope, not knowing he was on the other end. Aleric gave a surprised cry as the rope suddenly fell and he with it. He splashed down into the waves and was tugged under them by the undertow. Holding his breath, Aleric flailed briefly before his head broke the surface. Quickly before he could lose it, he sheathed Xel-Ha and fastened it tighter to his back. He was doing all he could at the time to keep his head above water. The storm continued to churn the waves making it difficult. In addition the death ship was still sinking and would soon pull him under to a watery death if he didn't get out of the immediate vicinity. Stroking with all his might, Aleric pulled away from both ships into the relative safety of the open waters. Not five minutes later the death ship fragmented and disappeared below the surface. Of course Aleric was too busy staying afloat to notice this. The Rhymand continued to move away at a brisk pace. Aleric thought. Though his black shirt and jerkin clung to his body making swimming cumbersome, his strong arms held against the sea. He tried to make to most use of the waves, letting them help carry him closer to the ship. He somehow managed to stay about a hundred yards behind the ship as it forged through the deeps. Aleric was tiring quickly, and his pace slowed. He had already spent much of the night fighting the undead wraiths, sapping his energy. But it was either continue or die. When he was almost at the point where he could swim no further, the Rhymand slowed and put down anchor. Aleric felt his heart leap in hope. The hope lent strength to his limbs and he continued swimming for the ship. By the time he reached the stern he was exhausted. There was no way he could ever climb one of the heavy hawsers linked to the rudder. So Aleric simply wrapped one leg around the tough fibers of one rope, and floated on his back, using the last of his waning strength to keep his head above water. If the ship moved, it would drag him with it. A sudden inspiration hit Aleric like a flash. He fumbled within a pocket on his jerkin and removed a cloth wrapped object. He carefully unwrapped the object to reveal a clear blue stone. It shone with an inner light, like a miniature star. Aleric thrust the cloth back in his pocket. he thought to himself. He held the starstone on his chest, directing its brightest glow upward. Now he just had to wait, and hope.... [ADMIN] Okay guys, HELP! Aleric is dead tired and can't do anything else to save himself. You put him there, now get him out. MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] [HouseStorming] A Familiar Face Date: Mon, 12 Apr 93 22:14:00 CDT Message-ID: <16BAE138A9.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: [AU] [HouseStorming] Andrea Sheryl Unicorn Raykor ADMIN: Okay, once again I'd like to thank all those people who have contributed, either in writing or through lending the use of their characters, to my thread. I haven't acknowledged some of them in the last few entries, but they include people like Delmara, Serena, etc. And I-- "Excuse me..." Hey, what--? Not again. Andrea, not during the admin note! "Sheryl and I aren't satisfied with the way you've been handling the story up to now." >Whinny!< "We feel you've just been messing around, and we want you to get to the ACTION! Let's find Raykor and kick his--" I'll GET to that! Now go on, get out of here--Hey, what are you doing?! Andrea, put that dagger away! "We're taking over as authors." But that's unheard of! You can't--Hey! Stay away from the computer! I'm warning you...I wrote you into this plotline, and I can darned well write you out agai--" >Fwip!< "Eyaaaugh!" >Gurgle< "Oh, darn. Now see what you've made me do. Sheryl, you call an ambulance. I'll clean the blood up off the carpet." >LongDial< >ShortDial< >ShortDial< "Greene County Emergency." >Whinny! Nicker! Snort!< "All right, got it, we'll send an ambulance right down." >CLICK!< "Darn, this blood just won't come out..." >Nicker!< >Snort!< "Huh? Oh! OH! We're on! Ahem. Hi, I'm Andrea, and this is Sheryl. Our author is, ummm, INCAPACITATED right now. So we're filling in for him. We trust you'll find the following entry satisfactory. Hit it, Sheryl." Silence reigned where only hours since had been roaring winds and rolling thunder. It was the night of the day after the storm had ceased, and the stars were actually visible outside. The clouds that had covered the sky had dissipated with astonishing rapidity as soon as the storm itself had died. Two eyes looked out at the sky from a window where no eyes should have been. These eyes were all that was visible of the face until the person whom the face belonged to moved out a little closer to the window, into the meager light cast by the overhead stars. The face was a weathered one. It didn't look OLD exactly, merely weathered. And evil. It was as though every evil deed this person had done over the last hundred years or so had its own reflection in this face. And from the look of the face, the evil deeds must have been many. To the casual viewer, it would be hard at first to tell whether the face was male or female in the dim light cast by the heavenly bodies in the skies. Yet after some observation of its features, it would perhaps become evident that this was a man. The window was set in an old house atop Merchant's Hill. An old house that had been decaying over the last decade, for none could pentrate past the astonishing array of deadly traps and magic wards which kept their silent guard over the years. It was indeed the same house which Andrea had purchased earlier that day, and even paid a visit to. Though Andrea hadn't seen him, nor had Sheryl sensed him, he had been there, been watching, shielded both from Andrea's view and Sheryl's uncanny perception. In fact, he had even saved Andrea's life, though she would never know it, by deflecting the poisoned dart from its course directly toward her into the gatepost. He didn't want her to die. Not yet, and certainly not from something as impersonal as a poison dart. The man laughed mirthlessly into the night. What was it that somehow attracted himself and Andrea to each other? He had encountered her in his travels many times over the last decade, sometimes intentionally, yet other times not. It was the curse, he knew. The curse that he, Raykor the Mage, had laid upon her more than a decade before. His magic had been powerful even then, with the help of the Mystic Ring of Eldnik. Since then, he had continued his magical researches, and had found a ritual to absorb the magical powers of the Ring into himself. He was now Raykor the ArchMage, even more powerful than before. "That curse..." Raykor muttered to himself. "Oh, yes, that curse was even more powerful than I thought at the time." He smiled, and it was not a pretty sight. How could he have known at the time of the casting that the spell fueled by rage and pain would be the most powerful enchantment he had cast before or since? But powerful the spell had been, and Raykor had only been unaware of to what extent until years later. Now he knew that the curse acted in several ways. First of all, it had completely erased the young girl's shape-identity, replacing it with the unicorn form. This in itself had been quite a feat, but its subsequent actions had been even more amazing. The curse somehow manipulated fate so that Sheryl (and thus Andrea) and Raykor were drawn to each other--their paths would eventually cross no matter how they tried to run away from each other. And if one was actively hunting for the other, it worked even better. In this way, it could be said to be something of a curse on Raykor himself, for several times Andrea and Sheryl had nearly caught up to him, though he had managed to escape unseen each time. However, whenever Raykor wished to find THEM, it was an obvious boon. And finally, whenever Raykor was within a few miles of Sheryl, he could actually tap directly into the enchantment's power, and receive a jumbled flow of data, information about the young unicorn's surroundings, feelings, sensations, and bodily functions. With the aid of his Runic Processor, he was able to sort these impressions out into useful data. In fact, he had been doing this through several years of encounters, and the knowledge of basic magical theory he had gained from this had enabled him to grow even more powerful. It was a source of unending irony to Raykor that none of his experiments--magical transformations, potions, magical torture devices--which he had thought would be the path to true power, had provided him with as much of it as had that one, almost accidental transformation, cast in the heat of the moment at a young girl who'd just thrown a stone at him. "Fate has its oddities," he was given to muse. "Through little accidents is true greatness made." Then the object Raykor had been holding in his right hand cheeped, interrupting his reflection. He held it up, looked at it, irritated at having been disturbed during his moment of solitude. His irritation soon changed to interest, however, at what he saw. The object was a glowing green orb, about the size of a baseball, which was patterned with red runes. One rune in particular was blinking, and it was this that had gained Raykor's interest. He touched it, and it was replaced with several smaller runes, which Raykor examined and nodded. "I had sensed several harmonic disturbances present within that storm. Hmm, maybe this helps to explain it." He nodded. "Interesting...I would like to meet the one who crafted this. Or the one who crafted the one who crafted this." He smiled. The curse alone had not been what had drawn Raykor to this place. He had been conducting research specifically on transformation curses for the last two years, and re-examining Sheryl's would enable him to fit the last lynchpins of the master spell he was crafting into place. This curse would be his crowning achievement. So far, anyway. It would be the most powerful magic spell he had ever dared to cast. Raykor had arrived in Generica a week before, knowing that Andrea and Sheryl wouldn't be far behind, and had set up shop in the well-equipped magical laboratory within the house (it had been a most fortunate discovery). He had been most careful with his scrying, only doing so on nonpeak hours and using his weakest probes to avoid detection by the local mages. All that he had been able to see was their approximate location, and interactions with a few bar patrons. Anything more complicated would have risked discovery. "Ah, well...I must get back to work. I would like to be ready when Andrea and Sheryl try to enter. With what I have learned, I have nearly finished my Master Curse. This one much more powerful than the one that I cast in anger. And with any luck, Andrea will be its unwilling recipient." His voice trailed off into an evil laugh as his footsteps echoed through the empty house. -- Chris Meadows || Pity me, I live near Branson!!! CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || ----------------------------------- CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || THIS SPACE FOR RENT CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Pitzar] A house is not a home. Message-ID: <1993Apr13.014123.28368@organpipe.uug.arizona.edu> From: corleyj@helium.gas.uug.arizona.edu (Jason D Corley ) Date: 13 Apr 93 01:41:23 GMT My boarding house had been torn down, and the vacant lot turned into a giant mud puddle by the storm. I thought of it as 'my boarding house', even though it had been a rathole of a place that I spent less time at than I did in jail, which wasn't a lot. So I was on the street for a night, looking for a place to live. The night sky over Generica makes you think about a lot of things. The town smells like rot, but the stars look like diamonds. They make you think about things you could have done once, but can't anymore. They made me think for a long while, because there were so many things that I couldn't do anymore, not because I couldn't do them, but because they wouldn't be the same things. I ran my head around in circles until I needed a drink. I headed for Low Town. I didn't realise until halfway there that there wouldn't be a Low Town after the storm. But I went anyway. When I got there, there were blazing torches set high on poles, and as far as I could see, workers gathered in the dim light, hoisting planks of wood on their shoulders, hammering them into place, shouting out to each other in the cool night air. I found a vantage point and stared down...the whole area was a buzz of activity, but it wasn't people running down streets yelling at each other and it wasn't smooth-talking punks hustling wise-ass hookers. There wasn't anybody down there except carpenters and builders. There wasn't any Low Town left. "Nice view, eh?" came a voice behind me. There was a sharp prick in my back. "Lets see that bag at your belt there, huh? Turn around." I turned around, and said "Hello Milton." because that's who it was. Milton was a small-time second-story man who had run across just enough stories to keep him in the file cabinets at the _Examiner_ instead of the Guard reports. He lowered his arm. "Jake? I thought you was...I thought you was gone!" I nodded. "I was gone. I was gone for a while." Milton nodded. "Jeez, I'm sorry Jake. Things have been pretty tight since the storm." I turned back around and sat on the edge of the curb, looking out over Low Town. "Not too many second-stories around anymore." He sat next to me. "Yeah." The light from a thousand torches reflected in his eyes as he stared down at the workers. "Gonna be better than new, they say." I squinted down at the mess of rubble and wood. "Better?" Milton nodded vigorously. "Oh yeah, it's gonna be clean and new and there won't be any rats or roaches or slimes or anything like that." "I see." "I know it's hard to believe, but..." "No, I believe you, Milton." "All right." The workers poundings echoed up like a knock at a distant door. "Milton?" I asked, "Who's paying for this? I can't see any of the fat cats uptown doing anything like this." Milton still stared down into the rubble. "Naw. It's one of the temples. You know, the one with the women." "Aditi?" "That's the one." "Milton...have you been..." I began. "Well so what if I have? They say they took a vow-- anyone that wants them, gets them." I turned back down to the scene below. A group of workers were pulling up the first side of a framed house. The wood looked strong and had no holes. "You know it hurts them, Milton." There was never any houses like that in Low Town. "Yeah, Jake, I know." We were silent for a long time. The second frame was pulled up beside the first one. It was going to be one fine house. I stood up. "I have to go find an inn before it gets too late, Milton. I'll see you around." He just sat there, looking down at the city. "Yeah. See you around, Jake." My foot caught on a loose cobble, and it skittered away down the street, as I stepped away from Milton. I heard his voice again. "It's never going to be like it was before, is it, Jake?" I pretended not to hear him. -- corleyj@helium.gas.uug.arizona.edu -- (@=k) ************************************************* Eh? Markian Gooley is a Zulu judge, cur! ************************************************* MagicHutchHeader From: zweldron@ruhets.rutgers.edu (Matthew Charlap) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [TW?] Oh, no, not again! Keywords: Ixy Message-ID: Date: 13 Apr 93 04:17:34 GMT Ixy looked around him. THe others seemed to be totally inactive, not responding to his actions, attempts at conversation, or anything. "NO! not another time thingy! AAAARRRRRGGGGHHHH!" HE took out his new and improved ring, and thought to himself, I hope this works! Then to Moria, "Hello!? are you there!? If you can hear me, help me get through to the others!" [ADMIN: since these problems exist, might as well work them into the story!] -- --Matthew Charlap ------------------------------------------------------------- zweldron@ruhets.rutgers.edu zweldron@dorm.rutgers.edu What are you looking at!? You're looking at my .sig! Well I'm working on it! MagicHutchHeader From: rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Breaking into the clear... Message-ID: <1993Apr12.230457.6833@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 12 Apr 93 23:04:57 CDT Kyar slowly and painfully regained consciousness. He looked around, noticing that someone had carried him to his cramped quarters in the Rhymand. The last thing he remembered was Elanon and Darkin hauling him onto the deck of the ship, his shoulder nearly torn from its socket. He could hardly feel his left arm now. He looked down at it lying next to him like a seperate entity. He could not move it, no matter how hard he tried, although truth to tell he had little strength to try with. He stood slowly and stripped himself of his clothing. He reminded himself to clean the leather soon before it was ruined. He donned a fresh pair of cotton breeches and a thin shirt, taking a very long time due to using only one arm. He also tied on a cloth belt, using his right hand to stuff his lifeless left through it. The great storm still rocked the fragile ship, although it seemed to be weakening some. Kyar had a great deal of trouble climbing the ladder up onto the deck, and finally had to be helped by one of the sailors. He saw Aleric and moved to speak with him. "How long have I been out?" Kyar asked. "Three days. Segoi was also wounded, somewhat severely, and Elanon and Ildamar were both worn down badly. Quaeros healed Segoi and rendered himself unconscious as well." "WHat of the others?" "Darkin, Laurenth and myself have been trying to help crew the ship. Alarond is around somewhere, doing who knows what. The storm has been knocking us around the whole time, so the navigator has no way of knowing our position, at least until the storm breaks. It is a good thing that Segoi lashed the wheel, or the ship would have surely broken up by now." Kyar saw Darkin on deck and walked over to her. She was busy lashing one of the sails that had started to come loose, and cursing one of the unfortunate sailors unwise enough to get in her way. "I wanted to thank you for helping me get back on the ship," he said, "I would have drowned if it wasn't for you and Elanon pulling me in." Darkin smirked just a bit. "Its a good thing for you I was there to save your hide. Maybe you should be a bit more careful." "Maybe I should." Kyar replied, smiling. Just then the sun broke through the clouds, and the seas around the ship seemed to calm just a bit. "We're coming out of it!" someone yelled, and the sailors cheered. It seemed the companions had weathered the storm and its perils, somewhat the worse for wear, but alive none the less... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: clayton@austin.ibm.com (Clay Colwell) Subject: Re: [TW?] Oh, no, not again! Message-ID: Date: Tue, 13 Apr 1993 16:44:23 GMT References: Keywords: Ixy [ADMIN: I've gotten two posts -- one from you, and a garbled one from Moria. I'd like to see some initiative in this thread, too. Amachiak, WHERE ARE YOU?] "What happened?" Eski thought, as he shook his head violently. He tapped the heel of his hand against his skull, trying to shake cobwebs loose. Everyone in the Dragon's Inn seemed to have shifted places all of a sudden. He looked around the table; Amachiak, Chikcha, Ixnaphior, and Moria were all still there, but Ixy had an intense look on his face, as if he were thinking hard about something. Eski scanned the rest of the Inn; no one was in their original place. There were new scents in the air: the bitter tang of ammonia, the musty scent of mildew faint but detectable, the pungent scent of alcohol and other medicines, and the flowery smell of potpourri trying vainly to cover up the rest. Here and there were lying injured people, wet and miserable, being helped by those better able. "What?" said Eski. "Is the storm here already? What happened?" To himself, he thought, "Time is truly working in strange ways. Perhaps it was the explosion. Perhaps it was the nature of this storm announced by the Magic Mouth. Are the others affected as well?" To test this question, he put out a hand to Amachiak, pressing lightly on his shoulder. "Amachiak? Amachiak, are you all right?" There was no response. Eski looked worriedly at Ixnaphior, who had shifted his intense gaze to look back at him. "Was this how his Queen was taken? Put under some spell of timelessness and just carried off?" [ADMIN: Shall we set a hard deadline to move this thread along? Say, by April 20?] -- Clay Colwell Profound quotes? Feh! archmage@vnet.ibm.com Disclaimer: The post above does not necessarily IBM Austin, TX reflect the views of IBM. These are *my* opinions! MagicHutchHeader From: jmondak@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (JACK-SPRAT) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Alarond lends a "hand" Message-ID: <1993Apr13.153109.4998@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 13 Apr 93 15:31:08 -0400 The storm finally being over, and most off the danger passed, Alarond started to relax and begin to clean-up some of the debris that was scattered about the deck. Bending over to pick up a rather large piece of driftwood, Alarond spotted a light shining out in the water. The light was small but intense, as if a star had fallen from the sky and was sending a distress signal from the water. "A distress signal!" Alarond cried. "Has anyone seen Aleric?" Not waiting for an answer, Alarond jumped into the icy waters, shifting into a more appropriate form as he splashed into the blue darkness. "Aleric! It's Alarond! Say something so that I can find you!" Aleric was too tired to answer, having expended much of his energy trying to keep himself afloat. Sensing this, Alarond focused on the Elven Star that Aleric had clutched tightly in his grasp. As he was getting close enough to make out the shape of the floundering warrior, Aleric began to lose hope and began to sink into hte deep, void of the ocean. Alarond raced towards Alarond and scooped him out of the waters. "Try not to move too much my friend, it will make my job a lot easier." Alarond got Aleric to the Rhymand and called to those on deck. They had seen Alarond fly off the deck of the ship and had gathered at the edge to help them get to safety. Kyar shouted,"Alarond, tie this rope around Aleric's waist and we'll pull him up." Kyar threw it down to Alarond just as Alarond shifted out of his dolphin form back into his more, comfortable, and more useful, elven form. When they had gotten the waterlogged warrior out back on deck, Alarond then joined the rest of them and proceeded to follow the company as they took Aleric off to a warmer, drier place where he could be taken care of more efficiently... MagicHutchHeader From: zweldron@ruhets.rutgers.edu (Matthew Charlap) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [TW?] Oh, no, not again! Keywords: Ixy Message-ID: Date: 13 Apr 93 21:02:04 GMT References: clayton@austin.ibm.com (Clay Colwell) writes: >"Amachiak? Amachiak, are you all right?" There was no response. >Eski looked worriedly at Ixnaphior, who had shifted his intense >gaze to look back at him. "Was this how his Queen was >taken? Put under some spell of timelessness and just carried off?" Ixy looked back at Eski. "I don't know. I never thought of that, but it seems like a possibility. If these lapses occur too often, then one who is either aware or unaffected by them could become a master thief. Or kidnapper, for that matter. This poses another question: who can resist these time shifts. What allows people like us to resist, while others," Ixy gestures towards many of the immobile patrons of the Inn, "are locked in stasis? "I am going to again try to get through to one of the others, don't worry, I think I can avoid the trap, now that I know it is here." He began again to concentrate on seeing into the minds of the others, whose thoughts, he just started to notice were also incredibly slow, if they had any at all. >[ADMIN: Shall we set a hard deadline to move this thread along? >Say, by April 20?] [ADMIN: yeah, 4/20 sounds good- one week should be enough for anyone to post something] -- --Matthew Charlap ------------------------------------------------------------- zweldron@ruhets.rutgers.edu zweldron@dorm.rutgers.edu What are you looking at!? You're looking at my .sig! Well I'm working on it! MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] ADMIN NOTE Message-ID: <1993Apr13.165914.5000@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 13 Apr 93 16:59:13 -0400 [ADMIN] Okay, this is strictly and admin note to clear up any discrepancies in the text. Let's say that Kyar's post happens later after Aleric is rescued from the water and has recovered from his ordeal. And in Alarond's post we'll say that it is Darkin who tosses the rope and calls to Alarond since Kyar is unconscious from *his* ordeal. And as a note, the light Aleric used is not an Elven Star as Jackie incorrectly surmised. It is simply a matrix, otherwise known as a starstone, as in Marion Zimmer Bradley's Darkover. It may or may not be able to focus telepathic power. I haven't decided whether or not to allow Aleric to have some small amount of latent telepathy. Probably not, but if I do it is limited to communication and nothing else. As to the time frame... Question: I am assuming we have been at sea for about a week now. (Using Kyar's awakening as a reference point, three days after we encountered the death ship.) We were at sea for several days, then encountered the storm, and three days later the storm cleared. Is that right or am I just totally clueless as to the time elapsed? Heather MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac559@Freenet.carleton.ca (Ian Clysdale) Subject: [ADMIN] [JOI] Atlas... PLEASE? Message-ID: <1993Apr13.220349.1181@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Tue, 13 Apr 1993 22:03:49 GMT Okay. This is another purely admin post. I said it in my subject line, I'm not going to bother with more. Now, could whoever has been keeping up the Atlas of the Known Lands send me a copy, please? We are wondering quite a ways from Generica, and I don't want to contradict the past history and geography of this place. Everything that has happened so far has been 'somewhere out at sea', and there is no problem with that. However, we should be landing soon, and I want to keep in sync with what has come before. If any of the Joiers want a copy too, that don't already have it, send me a note and I will forward it to you. I'll keep it in my work directory for a week after I get it. -Ian! -- Ian Clysdale | DEATH TO FANATICS!!! Founder of the God-Blessed and | DEATH TO FANATICS!! Only True order of Anti-Fanaticism | DEATH TO FANATICS!!! ac559@freenet.carleton.ca | DEATH TO FANATICS!!! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kmwilcox@iastate.edu (Kevin M Wilcox) Subject: [Mr B] Meeting an old 'friend' Message-ID: Keywords: mister boddy eustace crimpin Date: Tue, 13 Apr 1993 21:20:28 GMT Eustace opened his door and looked at the three men before him. They were tired, dirty, and unrecognizable. Without saying a word, Eustace closed the door. There was another knock. "All right, what is it?" he sighed. "We need a chance to clean up," Boddy said. "Well, go somewhere else and... huh? Mister Boddy? You look terrible." He stood aside and let the men enter. "What kind of facilities does this place have?" Boddy asked, peeling the fedora from his head and ruffling his hair in front of a mirror. "It's very nice. In a room down the hall is a tub, water pump, and stove." "Who's going first?" Dana asked. The three turned to each other. "One, two, three," Boddy counted. Dana swore a bit, and Boddy repeated. "Okay! I go first, then Evan. Do you have a towel?" -*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*- *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Half an hour later, Boddy returned, looking very clean, though his clothes seemed a bit heavy. "What took so long?" Dana asked. "I had to start the stove and boil some water," he answered. "Don't worry. I have more boiling now, so Evan should get cleaned up a lot faster." Evan nodded and left the room. "How have you been since our last visit?" Boddy asked Eustace. Eustace opened a chest in the corner, and a cold wind covered the floor. He reached into the box and took out a bowl with some white substance in it. "This is a food from back in Cornea. How I make it is a secret." He handed the bowl to Boddy. Boddy took a spoonful and winced. "Ugh. I hate yogurt." "What? You've had lurdle before?" Eustace asked, surprised. "Did you have some in Cornea?" "Lurdle? No, we have it back home, where it's called yogurt," Boddy explained. "What have you done to market this stuff? Do you have a storefront? I wonder..." He turned to Dana. "Do you think they have ice cream here?" "I don't know," Dana answered. "I wouldn't see why not." "Why? You want to market this like ice cream?" Eustace queried. "It could work," Boddy said. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* / K. M. Wilcox/ \Mister Boddy \ *-*-*-*-*-*-*-* "So, Professor Jenkins!... My old nemesis!... *-*-*-*-*-*-*-* \ We meet again, but this time the advantage is mine! Ha! Ha! Ha!" / *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* MagicHutchHeader From: fannicm@wkuvx1.bitnet (Master Hawk) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [TW] Moria awakens. Deadline established. Message-ID: <1993Apr13.174812.6848@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 13 Apr 93 17:48:12 CDT References: In article , clayton@austin.ibm.com (Clay Colwell) writes: > > [ADMIN: I've gotten two posts -- one from you, and a garbled > one from Moria. I'd like to see some initiative in this thread, > too. Amachiak, WHERE ARE YOU?] [ADMIN: Garbled?? Joy heaped upon joy. ] Moria blinked away the feeling of time-lost that she had been caught in as Ixy said something to her. After a quick look, she could see that Amachiak and his friend were in the same condition that she just snapped out of. Checking the room, she noticed that nothing was the same as she remembered from before and a strange tension pervaded the room. She looked at Ixy for quickly, "How long have we been like this?" > [ADMIN: Shall we set a hard deadline to move this thread along? > Say, by April 20?] [ADMIN2: I can agree with that. If there are no posts by the originator of the thread by that time, we will consider what action we should take. To whom it may concern, this was the exact reason that the TW thread was originally declared dead (by myself and MC).] -=-=-=-=- _ _ _ _ , ' ) ) ) _/_ ' ) / / / / / __. _ / _ __ /--/ __. , , , /_ / ' (_(_/|_/_)_<__ Message-ID: <93102.132846344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Late TWIR additions... [ADMIN: Here's some more summaries, given to me over the weekend by people responding to my "call". This should be a one-time thing, with the TWIR normally only appearing Friday (or so). So, please get any summaries in by Thursday, or very early (say, before noon EST) Friday...] [JOI] Submitted by: Jason Rosenberger (rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet) The cast: (in order of appearance) Elanon, a large pale skinned, red headed warriot with taste for adventure. Kyar, a warrior with no memory of who he is or where he is from, carrying only a silver bladed scimitar, and a platinum necklace that he cannot remove. Aleric, a warrior from the south, seeking adventure, carrying a great two-handed broadsword passed down through his family for generations. Alarond, a mysterious sprite, with a fun-loving attitude and alwyas some word of wit, also a friend of Elanon. Ildamar, another friend of Elanon, a blue skinned guy with a taste for fruit juices, with shapechanging abilities. Quaeros, yet another of Elanon's friends, a cleric of the god Ronkel, god of death -- Quaeros seems to stress the balance of life and death. Laurenth, mage, who joined the party after hearing of the quest from a table away. Darkin, thief companion of Laurenth. Laurenth seems to be the conservative one of the two, while Darkin has a bit of a wild streak. Segoi, who also joined the quest after overhearing about it, a very (and I do mean VERY) large figure dressed in a concealing black cloak. The adventure begins with the appearance of Kyar in the Drift Inn. Elanon is there waiting, after leaving a note for Kyar at the Dragon's Inn. Aleric and Alarond arrive next, at almost the same instant, and the four sit down and begin to tell each other about themselves. Ildamar arrives next, and tells Elanon what he has been doing since the last time they met. Quaeros arrives as well, and joins the group. Kyar is interrupted by the arrival of Semian Peltor, a Phadran knight, who restores Kyar's lost memory and leaves him with some clothes and equipment. Then Kyar and Aleric leave the Drift to buy equipment to outfit the group. While they are gone, Laurenth and Darkin join the group, as well as Segoi. Elanon reveals a bit of information about the quest, which is to save his homeland from the opression of its evil ruler(s). The next morning the companions meet, and board a ship, the Rhymand, to travel to Elanon's homeland. The ship debarks, and the companions each find an activity to pass the time. Quaeros and Ildamar begin to play sea chanties, Quaeros with a flute, and Ildamar with a small set of pipes. Most of the compnions enjoy the music, while Kyar goes below to sleep. Then the storm hits, and the ship gets hulled below the waterline. Segoi moves to the helm and uses his great strength to hold the ship on course, while many of the others go below decks to bail water. Laurenth however, magically patches the hole in the side of the ship, saving them from sinking, while Darkin and Quaeros both experience some type of contact from something in the storm. Kyar, who slept through all of this, is awakened by the wild rocking of the Rhymand. He moves up on deck, surprised to see only Segoi and the helsman on deck, holding the now warping wheel of the ship. Kyar uses the Phadra to strengthen the wheel, and then to reach out into the storm to lessen its force around the vessel. He is then hit with a blast of lightning that knocks him several feet. Kyar (when he recovers) and Segoi next spot a black ship off of the port bow, heading for the Rhymand. Segoi somehow recognizes the vessel as an evil ship of death, and warns Kyar, while attempting to steer away from it. Many of the other companions come up on deck, spotting the black ship, which by now is very close and attempting to grapple the Rhymand. Hordes of corpselike figures charge from the undead ship, attacking the sailors of the Rhymand and the companions. Kyar uses the Phadra to jump across to the deck of the black ship. Aleric cuts down several of the undead, which unfortunately regenerate and get up again. He grabs a rope and swings across, joining Kyar on the deck of the undead ship, and they both see a large black robed figure directing the attack against them. They move to attack it. Meanwhile, Elanon dives into the water, and attempts to cut a hole in the hull of the black ship. He is joined by Ildamar, who shapeshifts into a (I think it was a dolphin, not sure) and helps Elanon to smash a hole in the bottom of the ship. Quaeros comes up onto the deck of the Rhymand, and begins to destory the undead by draining the forces that are animating them. Segoi is attacked by several undead, but he merely throws them into the sea with one huge arm. He feels the pull of the now sinking black ship against the Rhymand, and begins to lash the wheel with the help of the helmsman. Darkin and Alarond begin to fight back to back, knocking the undead into the dark sea, while Laurenth begins to focus energy for a spell against the black ship. Quaeros begins to drain energy from the black robed figure on the deck of the black ship. Kyar and Aleric and jolted by the hole rammed in the bottom of the black ship, and nearly lose their balance as the vessel begins to list to one side. Kyar attempts to cut the ropes grappling the ships together, while Aleric hacks his way through the undead to the black robed figure. Quaeros, however, succeeds in dispelling the figure, and the empty robes fall to the deck. Segoi draws a huge broadsword and runs down the deck of the Rhymand, cutting all of the grapples attached to its rail. He is badly injured, however, and falls overboard, only to be rescued by Elanon, with help from Ildamar. Ildamar now shapechanges to the form of a great whale, and Alarond and Darkin throw him the anchor of the Rhymand, and he begins to pull it away from the sinking black ship. Aleric sees the Rhymand moving, and he and Kyar move to swing back over to her deck. Aleric grabs a rope and swings over, landing smoothly on the deck of the companions' vessel. Kyar is blocked from the rope by undead, and is forced to use his powers again. He jumps across to the Rhymand, barely catching hold of the rail with one hand, and ripping his shoulder out of socket. The black ship slips under the water, and the companions recover, although they still must deal with the fury of the storm... --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [Mr B] Submitted by: K. M. Wilcox (kmwilcox@iastate.edu) Mister Boddy, Evan, and Dana attempted to return to Generica on a minor errand, but got trapped in the storm and lost both their boat and their way home. After a couple days at sea, they reached land several miles south of Generica and holed up in a tiny cave. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- That's it for now -- see you Friday (I hope). Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader Date: Tue, 13 Apr 1993 20:20:15 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93103.202015ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [STORM] A Child In Danger Feverish thoughts ran aimlessly through a confused brain. Images appeared and faded faster than his mind could turn to see. He lay there sweating despite the early Spring chill, hot to the touch and possibly dying. He thought of gods and devils and the adventurers' inn, where they all went to play. He had looked in there once and the image was burned in his mind, brought forth due to the poisons of a million tiny creatures who attacked his body as well as his sanity. He had seen a room with too many corners, each filled with a being darker and more sinister than the last. In their midst sat a man with pointy ears. Sweet music came from his lute and his voice, combining into a heavenly melody. Here, in the darker portions of the boy's sickened mind, the melody twisted into a horrible form, a cruel mockery of its devine origin. The song told of everything that he feared: starvation, the death of his mother, the rats, small places...oh how it sung of small places, too tight to move your arms, constrained and hot and bound, where breathing takes all your energy and escape was a forgotten dream. There he wrestled for his life with unseen forces, tossing and turning in fits. Long ago, he had soaked the blankets with his sweat. Now, his lips cracked from dehydration. Beside him, holding his damp hand, was the loving form of his dear mother. She had tried to feed him water, but he would not take it. She dared not move him because of his weakened state, but she could not stay. Again, she looked outside her window, long since liberated from its glass pane by a street urchin. She saw the looming clouds of midnight darkness approaching faster than she had seen before. For a moment, she thought she saw the laughing face of a skull there, mocking her childs lost laughter. 'Nay, this is but the echoes of my child's madness that I see before me, but this vision holds truth. This coming storm holds disaster in its folds. It will be all I can do to survive it. But what of my son? Is it better to abandon him here to die of the storm's wrath or take him out to die of the sickness. In either case, he dies, but is it my mother's duty to stay with him. Oh, if only the fever would break...' She gathered up all her remaining hope in a plea to the forces of fate themselves. "To yee who hear this mother's call, the forces of nature have turned themselves against this city. My sense tells me to flee, yet I can't. I ask that you once be kind to this woman kneeling before you. Whilst no other eye is looking, could you do me this small favor? No mortal shall know the difference. There is a small chance, is there not? HIS FEVER COULD BREAK!" These last words echoed strangely around the hollow shell of a building. She feared that her hasty words had angered the gods themselves, but her worry disappeared when she heard her son call out to her, "Mom?" "Erik, you have returned to me," she swept him into her embrace and ran into the night seeking shelter. ...but that was a night long ago. ------------- Love and Peace and Strange States of Mind, -The Dreamer- Disclaimer: Sorry, Spring's here and I'm feeling good. If you have any complaints, I can't help it, I was programmed this way. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [Jiri][Storm]: Flight From Darkness Message-ID: References: <10APR93.22983324.0092@VM1.MCGILL.CA> Date: Wed, 14 Apr 1993 05:47:41 GMT [another post for Dani] It was dark. Dark and wet. He didn't mind the wet all that much, nor the dark. What ired him was the fact that it was still not yet even noon. Those infernal clouds! He swore again as he tried to get a firm grip on the crank handle. "Pull harder, damn you!" Taylor shouted to the two men at his side. The second jib had slid out, and the sheets needed to be tightened. The wind was howling a fury now, and the rain lashed brows with equal wrath. The Soulstar was still on a beat, heading into the wind. It was going to be tricky. Soon the wind would shift, as the main front of the storm caught up with them. They'd need to come about fairly quickly then, and hope the winds were stable enough to start long reach. The captain hadn't decided what tack to take yet. It was up to the Winds, and what They decided to do. Taylor grunted and heaved, and the crank began to slowly turn, as sail gave way and let itself be brought it a little tigher. CLACK! CLACK! One more pull... CLACK! There! The jibsail quit it's luffing as it was pulled in as tight as it could possibly go. The wind stayed on it's starboard face, and it no longer flapped back and forth, slowing them down. With a stern warning to the sailors to watch for the sheet slipping a second time, the first mate of the Soulstar turned and headed aft. He looked up to the telltale set on top of the main mast. It was beginning to waver, indicated a shift in the winds. A quick look to the white capped waves confirmed that a gust was coming- tiny ripples were forming on the backs of the waves. No need to shout warning though, he thought with pride. The rest of the crew was as sharp as he was that morn. The helmsman was steadying the tiller, and the men manning the sails were readying to act. The big man smiled as he climbed the stairs onto the poop deck. His captain had come out from his cabin only minutes ago, but already Cain knew everything that was happening on his ship. He gave orders sent the runners scurrying awat almost as soon as they presented him with a problem or question. The old skipper stood beside the black clad captain, overseeing and offering his advice. He was almost a part of the ship now, and Taylor seemed to think that the old man had been with the 'Star before Cain had come in possession of her. Of course, she was nothing like the ship she was now. She'd been completely overhauled and pretty much rebuilt. The only thing that hadn't changed about the vessel was Old Skip, as he liked to be called by the younger sailors. Skip had been offered the prestige of second mate, but he had declined, saying he was too old for such an important duty. He was content to just advise his captain, and so Cain had named him the ship's skipper, even though he wasn't first mate, and rarely took the helm, saying he'd leave it to the younger more hale lads. Taylor shook his head, for he sincerely doubted that Skip would have any trouble with the helm, whatever his age. He was a great sailor, and Taylor admired him even more than Cain did. "Ho Skip! Cap'n Cain," he nodded as he approached. "The second jib's been fixed in tight, but I deem she might slip again if the winds are too rough on 'er. I dinna know what's wrong with't, but seems the sheets as is 'ad a bit too much wet 'n strain." Cain merely nodded, then turned to look once more at the telltail. "What do think this wind's up to Taylor? She's jumpier than a cat in a whorehouse right now. We're going to have to change our tack soon, but which way? What is the beast thinking? Will It change quickly, or bide It's time?" Taylor looked up to the black clouds swirling overhead. "Cap'n," he began, "I dinna know the mind of the Beast, but I've seen 'er heart many a time. She wants ta strike, fast n' furious as the hellcat she is. I deem the wind'll shift quick. If n' an' she does, we might be best to come about afore the shift, and start a run." Cain nodded, then turned to Old Skip, who seemed to be chewing Taylors' words up as he usually chewed his tobacco. Old Skip looked to the clouds as well, then to the waves. "Brace yerselfs," he said, and a moment later, the gust hit. The ship rocked for a moment, as it seemed to leap a bit. The helmsman turned a little to starboard, then headed back up into the wind as the gust steatied. "Aye, ye may be right Taylor. But what if She doesn't shift quick? We may be caught in irons as we wait for her to slowly come around. And you know how hard it is to get out with a ship this size. And which way will she turn?" He looked Taylor, then Cain in the eye before turning his gaze back to the waves ahead. "We need to change tack, that's a right. If the wind changes enough, I'd like to try a broad reach. If we're lucky, She'll pop up near behind us if we head straight for Generica. Right now we're headed near square with port, only a little in, but the wind's not letting us do anymore, not until we're over enough to cut back th'other way. But I think that before we get a chance to do that, the wind will change. That storm's coming up hard on us. I think by noon we'll be right in the middle of it. Aye, the heart will miss us, for that black demon is far to port right now. That's why I wanted to beat, and you all agreed with me. If we'd have stayed on the course that dawn found us, we'd have made better time, but the center of the storm would have swept right 'cross us. By turing up into the wind, we've managed to run away from it. We were lucky to have been able to, sailing straight into the wind like this. We'd never have made it th'other way though. Now the storm has seen that we've near escaped Her clutches, and She'll try to bring us back to Her. I think the wind's going to shift and cut straight across the starboard stern. If we time our jibe right, we'll be able to enter a starboard reach, then turn back to a port reach after we've put a little more distance between us and Lady Storm." "Jibe?" Taylor nearly choked. "If we jibe in this wind, we could tear the ship apart! The boom won't be able ta handle it, not ta mention the sails!" "And if we come about before the shift?" Skip countered. "The wind could have the same effect as a jibe, only worse when it does hit, for we'll not be moving with it! And if it doesn't shift fast, we'll be stuck in irons." "Better stuck unmovin' than tryin' to move without a mainsail! I dinna know 'bout ye, but I'd rather be stuck and let the storm pass us by, then try and head it off!" Taylor was nearly livid, his face red with fury. But before he could continue, or Old Skip argue back, Cain spoke so softly that it was a wonder that they both heard him. "Normally I'd agree with you Taylor, but now we don't have any choice. We have to run now. Look." The two sailors followed Cain's black gloved hand, and hissed in their breath when they saw what he had spotted. Behind and to the port side came a ship, sailing straight out of the storms black heart. Skip pulled his spyglass to his eye, and his face hardened. He handed it to Cain, who looked long at the black ship bearing down on them. "Captain, that tack shouldn't be possible. At least not at the speed she seems to be going." Skip's voice was tight and grim. "I know, Skip, I know. She's gaining on us. I'm not too proud to admit that the Soulstar isn't the fastest ship ever built, but she's no slouch, and _NO_ ship could muster that speed sailing straight into the wind. From her angle, she's not even beating. She's coming straight into it. Did you notice the sails? They're set up for a run, BUT THERE'S NO WIND COMING FROM BEHIND TO FILL THEM. Yet, the ship sails." Taylor couldn't suppress a shudder as he at last was given the spyglass and got his first good look at the other ship. "Well Cap'n, yer right. If we come about now, n' get stuck in irons, she'll catch up with us. I said before to Magarth, 'tisn't an ordinairy storm. Seems as is I was right. 'Tisn't an ordinairy ship niether. Look. She's got a huge hole in 'er mainsail, and she's blacker 'an those thrice cursed clouds o'erhead." Cain nodded as he quietly spoke, his eyes never leaving the fast approaching vessel. "I said Lady Death came riding upon the waves. Now we see how she comes. Riding her vessel, a ship of blackest sky, a ship that sails with no wind to blow it. I do not intend to get caught in irons. There is no doubt that that ship has hostile intent. See the flag? 'Tis not the skull and bones flown by pirates, but the Skull of Bone flown by Deaths Legions. That unholy sigil burns at the eyes, and sucks at the heart. We must jibe. To do otherwise is to welcome Her, and I have no intention of taking that fell Lady as my lover yet. We have to take the chance, Taylor. When will that damn wind change? Will it be in time, Skip?" "Cain, that ship comes from the Storm. The beast wants us, for we ran from it. If it can give wind to the dark sails of that black vessel without changing the directions of the winds it sends to us, then there's no telling what it'll do. It just might hold the wind where it is, or it might turn to send us back to It, and has merely sent that foul ship out to herd and chase us. As Taylor said, 'tis no ordinary storm. This beast, is alive." Cain nodded, his eyes still studying the Ship of Lady Death. He motioned for a runner, and sent the wide eyed lad off to wake Magarth and the second watch and third watches. All hands were to be ready, for they may all be needed on deck very shortly. The black clad captain turned back to look at his ship, tearing his eyes at last away from the dark flag flying from the mast of the pursuing vessel. It was strange, he thought, that the flag was visible so clearly when the ship was still too far away to see the crew scurrying on it's deck. Strange indeed. For a long time the three men stood thus, waiting on the wind, and praying to whatever gods they still believed in. The second mate joined them shortly, and Magarth took on a steely look when he viewed the pursuing vessel. It was rather comical, Cain thought absently. That hard look on Mag's face, while his fine brown hair was still crazily shaped from the bed. That brief moment of respite was to be the last one for the captain of the Soulstar for a long time to come. A quarter of an hour they waited, then two, as the storm plotted Its' strategy. The Beast smiled as it looked upon the helpless ship that had dared to defy It's might. Other ship's had also tried, but they were being dealt with as well. The black ships had taken two down already, and pursued three more besides the Soulstar. The Lady had asked to take that ship, and so the beast had complied, holding it's winds so that the 'Star could leave the path of the Heart. How it angered the Beast that it could not take the vessel for Itself, but She had let it have other ships, and promised that there were more to come. She had even agreed to sit back awhile and let the Beast hammer at Generica when they arrived. This had pleased the Storm, for the City and the lands beyond were Its' true goal. Let the Lady take the helpless ships now, and then She would have to stand in the back and take the leftovers of Its' feast later on. Let Her satisfy Her lusts now, then let her beware if she tries to interfere with the Beasts hunger later. It would feed off the land, and spit out the dead for Her to collect when It was finished. Yes, let Her send her Black Ship's out, for the real feast would be left to It. Even as the Storm gloated, even as it plotted Its' foul design, It made a mistake. It let down Its' guard, and at that moment the first attack was made. The Beast howled in rage as the Magic slammed into Its' heart. It lost Its' hold on the wind, and the waves lost strength as part of the Storm was diverted by an unknown magical attack. Who dared to attack the Beast? No matter, it howled, for I shall take you all in time. The Beast cursed as it tried to gather the wind back into Its' foul grip, and tried to scare the waves into building again, cracking Its' whip and driving the frightened sea before it. It had lost a bit of Its' power, but that could easily be regained. There was still time before it hit Generica. Plenty of time. Skip let out a hollar as he saw something happening in the clouds. To the rear, the swirl momentarily slowed, then a part of the storm splintered off. The wind began to itch as it felt the thorn prick it in the rear. It started to squirm, then shift, trying to get rid of the prick in its' side. "HO THERE! PREPARE TO JIBE! THE WIND IS WITH US AGAIN!" Men scurried all over the ship as they turned cranks and loosened the sheets holding the sails. Cain looked at Old Skip and tensed. He could feel it too. Skip shouted a few more orders at the captains nod, then turned to look back at the waves. The ripples began to form once again on the wave backs, but this time not on the waves to the fore, where the wind blew from, but to the starboard aft side. Slowly the ripples increased, then died. A moment later they returned, then died again. Skip looked expectantly at Cain, who held up a hand. A third time the ripples appeared on the white capped waves, this time stronger. The gust was building, and the wind ahead began to slowly die as it shifted directions. "Captain?" Skip inquired. Cain kept his hand up. "Wait, Skip. Wait. We're not going to jibe right away." "We're not?" Skip's voice held surprise, but he told the runners to stand by to await the new order. Cain looked once more at the Black Ship of Death, then back at the waves. "We'll start a starboard reach," he told Skip and the Helmsman. "I want that ship to keep guessing. They'll expect us to put the wind across the port bow and try beam reach. We'll keep going the other way for now. When I give the order, bear off, and let the sails out. We'll reach across starboard still, then jibe when the other ship is making it's change to follow us." Skip started to protest, but Cain held up a hand. "Nay Skip, the wind _does_ affect the other ship. Did you notice their sail? It blew into the wind. At least, what is into the wind for us. I think the storm has sent out wind just for that ship to use, wind that wouldn't touch us. See how the clouds almost seem the part above her? The low ones, there. Whoever, or whatever, is controlling this storm, sent that ship after us, and diverted a small strong wind to sail it while not benefitting us. I know not why she still sails with that hole in the sail, but she does, and she needs wind to sail her. When we change to a starboard broad reach, she'll have to come about to follow us. They will wait a few minutes, to lessen the angle, then come about. But while they're doing that, we'll jibe over to a port beam reach. The jibe will be quick, with not that much of an angle to jibe through. The other ship, on the other hand, will lose speed and wind for a minute or two while it comes about, confident that it has us. Well, I have no intention of complying with their will. While they flounder about, we'll slip out of their grasp. Hopefully, if they make the mistake I'm hoping for, they'll try to change tack right away to follow us, and get in irons with no wind in their sails." "Hah!" Skip laughed and pounded Cain on the back. "I knew I'd made a sailor out of you lad, but you learned much more than what I taught you! You use the tactics of small craft racing, something that most ship captains either never knew, or long forgot. Hai, but we will surprise them. And if we don't then they have a captain who is much better that you or I will ever be." "That's what I'm praying against, my friend. That's what I'm praying against." Cain took one more long look at the waves, then waited still longer as the wind swayed back to starboard. He didn't drop his hand though, and was rewarded when the wind swung back to its' original direction as the two breezes battled. It swayed again, then suddenly swung around far to the starboard side. Cain dropped his arm and shouted. "Now! Bear up starboard! Let the mainsail out! Hold the Jib, hold it. Wait, wait. Now! Jib out! All sails half way!" The crew scrambled to obey the orders, and the Helmsman turned the wheel, swinging the ships nose around to the port side, but holding it after but a slight shift. The sails were let out, then snapped to attention as the wind caught them, straining againts the sheets that held the sails only halfway out. The Soulstar leaped into a broad reach, the new gust streaming across the starboard bow from behind, almost at a 45 degree angle to the length of the ship. Cain and Skip smiled, and Taylor hooted from where he was up front as the black ship behind them kept it's course. After several minutes, it became clearly apparent that they were readying to come about to follow the Soulstar on a starboard broad reach. Cain held up his arm once more, and Skip, Taylor and Magrth shouted more orders, getting everybody ready to spring into action. They didn't move yet, for to act to soon would be to give their plan away to the opposing captain. The black ship slowly turned away from the wind as it passed the point that the Soulstar had sailed through before the wind had changed. True to Cains' word, they were coming about. His crew stood poised. "Captain?" Skip asked. He looked to the other ship, now almost halfway there, the wind beginning to fall from the impossibly torn sails that her crew was madly pulling in from their fully extended running position. "Captain?" He asked again, worry in his voice. Still Cain did not move. "Cain?!" Skip was getting very worried. They wouldn't be able to jibe quick enough. It would be too late. But still his captain waited, his eyes on burning holes through the other ship. "Captain! We must act now!" Cain ignored the old sailor, his black gloved hand still raised high in the air. Every pair of eyes on the ship was riveted to that hand, waiting. The Black Ship of Death was almost halway about. The booms began to shift, gathering speed as they swung across the deck to catch the wind from the other side. The keel had turned quite a bit, and was almost at the new angle. Not a sound was made from any on the Soulstar. All eyes were watching, all breaths were held. And every man began to sweat in worry and fear. Just when it seemed that Cain had become entranced by the foul flag atop the other ship, his arm came sharply down and his crew sprung into action, like coiled snakes that had waited, muscles bunched until unbearable, to strike at the mouse. Even as the sail of the black ship swung past the midpoint, the booms of the Soulstar began their slow swing across as the Helmsman, now aided by Skip, turned the tiller franticly, bringing the rudder in the dark waters below hard to the left side, and the bow of the vessel began to slowly swing about. Skip swore as he saw the other ships' sails filling with air, swore because they would be too late. Then, of a sudden, the booms hurtled across the bow and the sheets and sails snapped tight with a huge shaking boom that rocked the ship. Another gust had sprung up, and the added wind had swung the sails across far quicker than they would have gone on their own. The gust had not reached the other ship, and they stalled in surprise as their quarry suddenly changed direction. The captain of the black vessel, whoever he was, had acted as Cain and Skip had hoped. He began to come about too soon, before his sails had come across fully. The jibe had been as, as jibes always are, and the Soulstar even now flew madly across the waves on her new port reach. She hovered between a broad reach and a beam reach, keeping the ship between 90 and 45 degrees to the wind from the rear. Meanwhile, instead of holding course and changing after a minute or two, the black ship was trying to jibe into a port reach as well, but her sails had not the wind, and so when the bow swung around, her sails began to luff and lost the wind. The crew of the Soulstar cheered loudly, and a fierce grin crossed Cains' face as he watched the pursuer lie in irons. It would be long miutes before they managed to get back around far enough to start the reach, and so it sat, barley moving, trying to find the wind that howled past it's sails from a bad angle. The captain of the black ship had been impatient and overconfident, and now payed the price, for the winds were no longer its' ally anymore than they were Cains'. They had reached waters where the wind had broken from the Beasts' foul grasp. They were safe, for the moment. Cain turned and saluted his crew, who all cheered loudly then stood at attention and returned the salute. They pulled away, leaving the black ship floundering among the waves. The Ship of Death was almost just a dark spot among the waves behind, its' fell sigal no longer visible before it found the wind and filled its' torn sails again. Cain could swear that the wind carried a terrible howl of rage, and his skin crawled as the hairs of his neck rose. He turned back around, raising Skips' spyglass to his eye, and air hissed through his teeth. "Skip, how long have we been on this tack?" His voice was tense, and the unease spread to the old sailor. "Near a quarter of an hour, Captain. Why? What is it?" Cain simply handed him the spyglass. Old Skip aged visibly beofre Cain's eyes. "Damned curs of Hell, Cain! They're gaining on us!" Skip quickly turned and barked orders to the crew. He had no need to ask Cain for approval- there was no other choice. It was risky in those high winds, but he ordered the spinnaker up anyways. The crew didn't question the judgement either, for they knew how important speed was. The look on Old Skips' face was enough to tell them that the other ship was gaining. The spinnaker was pulled up by the incredible rigging that Cain had designed for it. Skip still wondered that the black haired man called himself a thief and an assassin, for he was the greatest ship captain that Old Skip had ever met. He had never even dreamed that a spinnaker could be raised and lowered so easily in a ship the size of the 'Star, but Cain's fancy rigging had proved itself many times in the past. The large black sail billowed out like a parachute, a silver star seeming to shine in its' center. The spinnaker team played with the sheets and steadied the spinnaker pole. The sail took, and the Soulstar leapt ahead with a new unleashed fury as it cut through the fierce waves. It would be tricky indeed to keep it flying well in this wind, but the men manning the spinnaker sheets had gotten a lot of experience over the last year and a half while outrunning warships after stealing their cargo. Even with the added speed, the ship of Lady Death still gained on Cain and his doomed vessel. Cain paled, then gave the order to start dumping cargo. Magarth went below to make sure that the heaviest and least valuable cargo was brought above to be dumped. He made sure that the crates containing the speacial lode remained, but near everything else was dumped. Every inch of speed was squeezed out of the 'Star by Skip, Taylor and Magarth. Upon the deck of the black ship, a hooded and cowled figure let out a hideous laugh as it watched the helpless men dump throw crate after crate over the side. The hood slid back, and the hideously beautiful Lady of Death licked Her lush lips in anticipation. Her captain had failed Her those moments before, but now She was glad that She had stayed Her wrath until his next mistake. She'd coaxed the foolish Beast into giving Her more wind. The fool had done so, letting go of some of the power It held in the Heart. Even now one of her other ships was boarding another vessel of fool mortals. Her emmisary reported that a fierce battle raged on the deck of the Ryhmand, just as one would soon rage on the decks of the Soulstar. Even so, She would not make the mistake of underestimating the human again. Even now, a huge black monster of the deep rose up out of the angry sea to bar the flight of Her prey. She felt a heat of lust run through Her being as the humans saw the great monster loom up before them. They had just the time to turn once, but the monster obeyed its' mistress and moved to herd the doomed ship into a position for Her to take it. Cain of Kilrahh would be Hers, and so would all his crew. --Dani Treutler. [admin]: Again, thanks to Hutch for posting this for me, and to Jen/Cliffy and the rest of the [JOI] crew for the black ship idea. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir) Subject: [Sorc] Behind some scenes. Message-ID: Date: Wed, 14 Apr 1993 16:01:33 GMT In the city of Magira, there was a house. This house was sequestered away in a lower area of town, where many mundanes lived while away from the magicians' needs. This particular house looked run-down, decrepit, even a bit old. As far as anybody knew, nobody lived here. But, beneath this house, there was a hidden trapdoor. Beneath this trapdoor, there were stairs. Beneath these stairs, a lab. This is the lab of things best left unsaid. It has many foul and disgusting effigies and corpses. It is the laboratory of Darmal. Darmal sat in the study, ruminating on all that he had done. The Council, divivded and weak as the had become, had finally, after years of his hard work, manipulated the Council into hating each other. Powerful mages they were, mightiest on this rock of a planet, but Darmal had seen lifetimes before as the lieutenant of Sorceror. Miniondom did have it's rewards after all. Darmal knew that in his current human guise, his master was able to cause much strife in this most important city. Sorceror would not have left such an important task to one as idiotic or simple as Iglyarch the mortal. Pah! Iglyarch indeed. If only that power hungry fool KNEW what was happening, and what was to be intended for him at the last. Which reminded him ... A quick and simple spell, Darmal reached his mind out over the continent. He had to contact Iglyarch and make sure all was going to plan. 'Iglyarch ...' he called. 'Who is it?', Iglyarch was frightened. 'Iglyarch, something interferes with my transmission. Something strong. What is it?" 'Oh, Darmal, there is a hideous storm approaching. The city is black as midnight' So soon, Darmal thought privately. He had to contact the Master on this one. ' ... and buildings fallen over. I've had to take shelter' 'What? Oh. I understand, Iglyarch. Now, is the elven matter in hand?' 'Yes ... I have dispatched five more of his kind after him. He will not trouble us much longer' 'Iglyarch, the elf is of particularly potent Blood. This is dealt with?' 'Yes, Alex, leader of the Pack, is also of fearsome Blood. The elf will trouble us no longer' Iglyarch repeated the phrase emphatically 'Excellent. Now go. We will speak later' Darmal broke contact. The aura of magic in Magira was increasing by the minute. Soon, a critical mass may be attained. He had to contact the master. The only way he was going to be able to that was to burn some of his precious Primal Energy to completely mask and create a powerful communication spell through the noise all around. Primal was VERY powerful stuff. He willed it done. A crystal clear communication was forged instantly between himself and Sorceror himself. 'Master, the Storm. It starts this soon ?' A feeling of anger passed over Darmal, blocking out everything else. In the pit of his Minion Stomach, Darmal knew fear. - T H E S T O R M I S N O T C O M P L E T E L Y O F M Y D O I N G, M I N I O N- 'Yes Master. What caused it?' Darmal just gained a mental image, a packet of knowledge went to the fore of his mind. 'The Fist has moved South. The Portal to hell must be opened on the island in the center of the Fist.' 'The storm will last?' - F O R A L I M I T E D T I M E O N L Y . A D A Y , A T L E A S T- So that was it. Darmal had a day to get the Magiran war climaxed and ruinous, and to get to Generica. His senses picked up something. Two mages had just teleported into the city. The deaf one, and the old Ambassador. Trouble could be caused here. He moved to deal with it. -- 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 MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: asgds@acad2.alaska.edu Subject: New Kid In Town Message-ID: <1993Apr14.081328.1@acad2.alaska.edu> Date: Wed, 14 Apr 1993 12:13:28 GMT Azariah walked the streets of the new city. He enjoyed new places and this place was one he was sure he had never been before. The storm that he had ridden was still going strong. He liked that, storms and thier aftermath alway had so many possibilities. Looking around him he realized that this was a large city. He closed his eyes, inhaled, and then exhaled slowly. Opening himself to the energies of the where where he was. Someone made storm...WHY?...fears...people fearing for their safety...magic in the air...possibilities...close This was an interesting here and now. Azariah looked down on his form, one with the wind and the rain. Had anyone been bothering to look in the alley near the harbor they would have seen what appeared to be a whirlwind gather into the form of a young man 5'11" tall and about 190 lbs. He had dark hair and very bright blue eyes. He would have appeared to be wearing a light green tunic, dark green pants, and a pair a black leather boots. Around his waist was a belt with a sword a dagger and several pouches hanging from it. On his shoulders he wore a purple cloak pinned with what appeared to be a shell. The young man looked around himself, smiled and then left the alley starting down the street... MagicHutchHeader From: markk@vax.cns.muskingum.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [ADMIN] [JOI] Intro of new guy Message-ID: <1993Apr14.122150.5012@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 14 Apr 93 12:21:50 -0400 Hi. This is just an ADMIN note to Ian. I will be joining the group shortly as a human ranger named Tarquin. My name is Mark and you should see my character within the next few days. I think Heather is adding in my character in her next post (maybe Jen). I am also a student at Muskingum. I would appreciate a copy of the atlas in addition to a bestiary if possible. Please post or mail to the above address. Both would be an extreme help to any postings I might make to this group. (Sorry about the disorder in the writing--it was kind of a stream-of-conciousness thing) -Mark (aka Tarquin,soon) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hibschmn@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Johann Allen Hibschman) Subject: [JOI] [ADMIN] Collecting email addresses... Message-ID: <1993Apr14.014051.5256@Princeton.EDU> Date: Wed, 14 Apr 1993 01:40:51 GMT ADMIN: To reduce the amount of organizational chatter on the group, could everyone email (that's EMAIL) me their name, their email address, and their character's name. I should be able to compile a list from saved messages, but this way I can make sure I don't miss anyone. Once I get a message from everyone, I'll put the list together and mail it to you all. -Johann Hibschman aka Quaeros, the death cleric who's fun at parties hibschmn@phoenix.princeton.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [storm] [MG] A Restoration Message-ID: <1993Apr14.192906.11612@data-io.com> Date: Wed, 14 Apr 1993 19:29:06 GMT They emerged from the basement as if coming up from a cave. Kardia blinked at the sunlight in the house, with the rest of the guests. She didn't want to see Mrs. Cludne's face, so she just looked at the hole in the roof and the jagged edge of the brick wall above it. She heard the intake of breath and then the long sigh after it. She walked through the house, feeling a little as if she had just survived a war. Most of the windows had been blown in, there were two nasty brick falls from the overhead wall, and the haste of the exit down into the basement had left most of the house forlorn looking. Kardia's knee hurt after the long, enforced stillness and now the climb up the stairs. The room that Kardia had been staying in was the one that took the second brick fall. Kardia looked up at the small patch of sky outside, the white clouds puffy and big against the blue and shook her head at the mess of the interior. The bed had been crushed by the fall. Kardia took two pairs of gloves out of her bag and put the doubled protection on her hands and started gingerly gathering an armful of splintered boards. "No." Mrs. Cludne's decisive voice stopped Kardia. "Lass, there are plenty of burlies that can do that work. Your poor hands would be torn up in no time at all, doin' work like that. Perhaps the Guild could use your capabilities better'n here..." "But..." Kardia gave a helpless look at the destruction, almost hugging the boards to herself. Something relaxed in Mrs. Cludne, "Aye." She seemed to finally look at the destruction, "I know... but you'd be more use elsewhere..." Kardia gave a shivering sigh and nodded. She grinned a wry grin at the boards in her arms, "I'll take these down, though. Should I look for a room as well? You were full when I came in." Mrs. Cludne shook her head, "No, child, there'll be room here for you, if you want it. With the storm there'll be fewer places to stay, not more." * * * Kardia realized the truth of Mrs. Cludne's words as she walked towards the Guild. Even on Merchant's Hill there were houses that looked as if they'd been leveled. A house broken open by a falling tree. One house that cradled a tree in the midst of what had once been a roof. There were few windows intact anywhere she looked. Everywhere there were carpenters, haulers, garbage collectors to take the debris away. The sheer destruction apalled her; but it was also heartening to see, everywhere, people working together to rebuild. She limped up to the Weavers' Guild and was somewhat surprised to find 'Raelf there, dressed in the skimpy work clothes popular amongst carpenters and roof-workers in every culture she'd seen. He had waved down to her from the ?surfboard? he was standing on, floating in mid-air as he rehung slate shingles on the roof. She waved back. When he turned back to his work she watched him for a long moment, then smiled and went inside. Inside there were far more people than she'd seen the day before. Peter, looking harried, said, "Why don't you just wait in the reception area? We'll think of something for you to do here, later?" A little crestfallen, Kardia nodded and carefully sat down. Peter grinned, "Don't worry, there will be plenty to do once we're sure the roof's safe in the work area." Kardia gave him a smile, which he returned before disappearing back into the Guild. After a while 'Raelf showed up inside, pulling on a black tee-shirt with a picture of a pale woman's face, kind of gothic in appearance. "You still interested in doing some contract work for me?" he asked. "I suppose so. Depends..." "Well, standard Guild fee for cursebuster is 1000 guilder per rated level of the breaker plus 2x hazard if applicable plus a personal bonus if rated or required. You'd be on my contract so I get to charge them at my rating, which is 11, and you need to determine whether hazard is there or not, and I'll provide personal bonus anyway." Kardia chuckled at the rapid-fire legalese. "The money seems more than fine, 'Raelf, but what's this about `personal bonus'?" "Well, if you will put up with Archmage Dasham long enough to help me get rid of the curse she's carrying, we'll do something about that limp of yours." 'Raelf nodded to one of the passing weavers. "All done." "I see. When do you want to start on this?" "No time like the present, eh?" Kardia blinked as 'Raelf took off her shoe and the wool sock underneath. She leaned back as he studied the cauterized stump, knowing too well how it looked. It hadn't been sewn shut and all the ragged, glossy and wrinkled bits of skin over the now healed, rather lumpy flesh and skin covered bone. 'Raelf was muttering to himself. "Fer shure. Lessee..." Gentle, strong, impersonal hands along her skin, "Seattle foot's out, there's too much structure still in place. Besides, they tend to break if you gain weight..." Kardia blinked at the word "Seattle". Something a little like worry and fear flashed for a moment behind her eyes. Then 'Raelf rambled his cheerful way on, "How about something a little higher tech? Hope you don't mind a bit of magic as part of the fab. Marcel didn't want any, but then Marcel was a peasant." Kardia giggled at the cheerful comment and 'Raelf protested, eyes wide in true innocence "No, really." Kardia shook her head and laughed softly, "I don't doubt you. And I don't mind having magic in the making... it would be most interesting to watch." "How about a - wait a sec. The tech base here is high enough to support ... hmm. I was thinking of that as a cure for Dasham anyway, but it's so much easier if it's not the full Sternberg internal refit..." Kardia blinked at the name, but kept quiet, fascinated by 'Raelf's mental gymnastics. "Here." 'Raelf produced two blocks of foam from nowhere. "You don't wear any of those nettle-weave socks, do you?" Kardia shook her head. "No? Good. Let me fit this to your foot." The foam substance blorped as it reshaped itself around her foot. Kardia suddenly started giggling. "Yes, of course it tickles. Hold still." Kardia frowned horribly at 'Raelf as she tried to hold still but then broke down into another giggle fit as 'Raelf took the mold off her foot. "Now. Let me go play with this." 'Raelf flickered out and then in in less than a fraction of a second and held something out to her. She blinked power dazzled eyes to look at it. "This is a prototype. See if it fits." He held out a clunky-looking foot-shaped boot-thing made out of what appears to be metal bands. She turned it over in her hands and then strapped it around her foot. The surface against the tender scar tissue was so soft she found she could nearly ignore it. It fit around her foot quite well, but she looked a little bit unhappy with how clunky it was. 'Raelf didn't seem to notice. "OK, now stand." Kardia stood a little uncertainly, having that extention to her left foot was now strange in and of itself. But she felt so much more solid it amazed her. "Good." he said. Encouraged, she bent that foot experimentally and then put her weight on it, front and back. 'Raelf's eyes narrowed, "Hmm. Readings a bit off, and of course the cyber isn't installed. OK, sit again." Kardia sat and 'Raelf removed the boot thing. He flickered again. Kardia was a little dazzled by the wake that appeared to her when he did that. He held out a delicate left foot that shone like gold. The only similarity that she could see it shared with the previous piece was that it was as hollow as a boot. She carefully put it over what was left of her left foot. "This is the second prototype." It fit her foot as perfectly as the other had. Then the stub of her foot started to tingle. After a few moments, Kardia's eyes went wide as she felt the hardness of the wooden floor beneath the 'toes' of the gold foot, and the toes started to wiggle at her command. Carefully, slowly, she bent her 'foot' up and then down again, and she shook her head slowly, her eyes wide. "Thought so." Said 'Raelf, "Now, this is shielded, so you'll be able to put your funny weavings on, but don't let them get at the inside, and be sure to take it off every few days. Let me see it in a few hours, I'll adjust the adapt. Yeah, it's slightly magical, but it's mostly tech, the magic is just in the initial control interfaces. No jacks required, uses a resonant receptor over the nerve bundle." Kardia blinked up at him in wonder. Even with the receptors she'd known at home, there were weeks to months of training the nerves to do the what the user wanted. "You want some color other than shiny gold? I can do matte-black dullkote, or match it to your leg color, or leave it. Just takes a second..." Kardia couldn't help it, she threw her head back and laughed. Probably the first completely carefree laugh she'd had in a very long while. She didn't even want to think how long. In the face of 'Raelf surprise at her laughter, she got up and carefully hugged the big, blonde mage with her face turned away from his. "It's perfect." she said when she let go of him. "It's absolutely perfect." she whirled, once on her left foot, caught her balance, just barely and then laughed again, this time with a slightly hysterical note. Then she sat down, pulled her sock over the bright metal, and tapped her toes on the floor and shook her head at the sensation of it. When she turned her face towards him, there were tears running down her face. "Thank you." was all she could say before the tears choked her voice. "Hey, dudesse, you O.K.?" She just nodded, and tried to choke back the sob that came up. Then she was just crying hard enough to shake her slender body. 'Raelf sat down next to her, not touching her, and just waited. The sobs peaked for a moment and then subsided slowly into hiccoughs. "It's... (hic)... It's just that... awww.. shit. (hic)" A softer giggle than the laughter that had gone on before. "I never thought... (hic)" Then in a rush, "I didn't think I'd ever get it back." 'Raelf shifted on the bench. She hurriedly said, "I know, I know... it really isn't a foot. It's just a (hic) prosthesis... but do you *know* what it's like to lose...?" She looked up at him and went silent. "Yeah... well. Thanks... such an inadequate word that..." she trailed off and hicccoughed. She took the sock off and looked at the shinyness. "I think I'd like it to stay the way it is, so I remember it's not real and maintain it right." She looked up at him. "That make sense?" The hiccough broke her solemness and she shook her head and smiled. "Yeah. I do know what it's like to lose a part of yourself, and know it'll never be back, and then have it returned by an impossible chance. Thank _you_ - it isn't often that I can repay that particular debt to the universe." He smiled back. "So now, let us go walking, so the foot can learn you better." -- Liralen Li | "... and how you feel can make it real aka Phyllis Rostykus | Real as anything you've seen... " li@Data-IO.com | Peter Gabriel _US_ MagicHutchHeader From: fogelinc@pt.Cyanamid.COM (Carl Fogelin) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Storm][Observing] Guilt of the observer... Date: 15 Apr 1993 00:12:59 GMT Message-ID: <1qi9abINNisf@c3po.jvnc.net> Crombie had wandered around the river for the better part of the last hour, recording his observations on how the storm was progressing and how the locals were reacting. Since his initial observation that the storm was unnatural, the winds had picked up at least eight fold, and the streets were starting to flood. He had seen people running, a hopeless expression on their face as most of the flimsy wooden domiciles near the Ceruputhon crashed in on themselves. Like the lightning which had tried to hit him and missed, none of the rain nor wind penetrated his dampening field. Of course that didn't mean he wasn't inconvienanced. He still had to slough through the flooding, and that chunk of roof which barely missed him as it broke off would probably have killed him. Currently he was crouched under a stone arch near the Plaza of Glittering Steel looking at the electronic images that his weather probes were sending back. Looking at the images, Crombie thought 'Its a monster'. Never had he seen such a large and ferocious storm. His probes were rated to be stable in 120 mph winds and the feed he was receiving was shaky. He tuned in an area, its origin at the harbor with a 80 mile sweep. The storm's loci looked to be about 60 miles out, which meant the brunt of the storm would hit in a half hour. He started to narrow the focus when... Looking up, he saw that a pole (some kind of railing) had implanted itself into the stone wall of the building across from him. He shook his head in disbelief. Carefully peering out from the arch's protection, he saw pieces of debris flying around, dust devils feeding trash from out of the alleys into the raging wind. He'd have to be careful walking in that! He started to go back to reviewing the storm's data when he thought he heard crying. He stood, straining his ear against the incessant noise of the storm and waited for the sound again. Hmmm, maybe nothing... wait... what... over there! The sound seemed to be coming from the building which had just been impaled. Quickly gathering his equipment up, he made a dash over to the building and climbed over its broken sill. The place was a wreck. It seemed to be some type of store, maybe a woodworking shop, but it had been trashed. Bits and pieces of furniture had been haphazardly thrown around the floor like from a drunken barroom brawl. Add to that the foor was flooded. What a mess. Crombie started to explore the room, checking trash heaps, in the hopes of finding the source of the crying he had heard. Suddenly the building shook and the sound of crashing stone could be heard from upstairs. Instinctively Crombie slipped into a doorjam for safety and looked up at the rooms roof beams. 'This place is going to collapse soon' he thought. Just then he heard some whimpering. A child! That pile there! He hurried over and started to pull junk aside. Suddenly a hand appeared. He started to quicken his pace, not knowing how long the building would stay up. Now there was an arm, and if he moved those stones, he should be... a face! Staring up at him was the bloodied face of a small elven child. He started to reach down, to pull her out when suddenly he stopped. ***** "You people are the best of the class, some of the best I have ever trained. It has been my honor, no my privilege to work with each one of you. Now you begin THE journey. Each of you will be sent to another world to observe. One where things are different. One where your very soul will be challenged. You are our Emperor's eyes. Observe. Learn. You are now Erehwon. Go forth and excel." Each of the graduates started to celebrate, congratulating each other. Out of a class of 420, only eight had made it to this point. They were very proud. "And remember graduates" the instructor's voice broke in, "you are only observers. You will not interfere with those that you observe. You are Erehwon, you are the Emperor's eyes." ***** The words rang in his subconscious as he reached for the child. Poised in mid action, he was confounded by the situation. Inaction probably meant the death of this child, and further guilt on his part. Action was in violation of all he had been taught. Observers don't react. He was Erehwon, he was the Emporer's eyes. He was... Looking quickly up, he saw that a ceiling beam had cracked and was slowly breaking free. 'Dang!' Quickly he reached down and grabbed the child. He lifted her battered body to his chest and turned to dash out into the street. When he was almost there, the ceiling collapsed in, shortly followed by the building folding in on itself. Miraculously, the two escaped with little more than a few more scratches and the knowledge that they had just brushed clothes with Lady Death. --- --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Carl Fogelin (fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com) "All opinions are strictly mine" Up the long ladder and down the short rope, To Hell with King Billy and God bless the Pope. -- traditional MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: asgds@acad2.alaska.edu Subject: [NKIT] durring the storm... Message-ID: <1993Apr14.181528.1@acad2.alaska.edu> Date: Wed, 14 Apr 1993 22:15:28 GMT This storm is a thing of evil. I don't like it. There is magic in this where and when, there is also some great evils. Generica, that is this cities name. I am near a where called the Buffer. Azariah looked about himself. The storm had reached its height and he had rarely seen such destructive power shown through weather. The streets had become varitable rivers. buildings were toppling and people were dieing. This was bad. I must do something... "You there, boy, come out of the storm!" a worried looking man was calling out to him from a very sturdy looking stone building. The building looked out of place. He entered anyway. This was a being of power. As he came into the building the old man saw that the sprites hair was not black but a dark purple. His eyes were a bright blue. He was SO young. "I am Azariah." he said looking at what appeared to be an old man. "You know me for what I am don't you?" Azpiazu asked with amusement and wonder. "You are one of Power." Azpiazu smiled, beings such as he were so basic. "What are you?" "Azariah. I am a traveller." "From?" "Otherplace." "Come you must help me to help the unfortunates being hurt by this storm." Azpiazu smiled, this was going to be interesting. "Alright." said Azariah. This being is good. For the rest of the storm many of the poor and the homeless of Generica were saved by entering a stone building that they had never noticed before. At the time nobody had bothered to talk to one another, they were too busy trying to survive. But latter when they met in the aftermath of the storm, they realized that they had all seen a different building, and a different host. The only thing they realized was a common point was the strange purple-haired lad with the blue eyes, who had helped the host feed and care for the refugees. His name was Azariah. MagicHutchHeader Date: Thu, 15 Apr 1993 09:54:52 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93105.095452ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [STORM][L&S] Promise of a New Day "I don't know what he's doin'. All I know is dat my place ain't fallen down no more an' dat's all dat matters. Let him be," Trawm told the customer. "Yeah, but that gem he's got must be worth a fortune. We could build a new bar, the two of is, near Merchant's Hill with the gold that thing would get us." The dark-clothed human had a sinister look in his eye as he glanced again at the large black gem. Above it, staring into its midst, was a golden-skinned half-elf in a BLACK cloak. The expression on his face told a story of concentraction and mental exhaustion. Luthor had sat there unmoving for hours while the storm raged around him and the inn he was protecting. When the dark-clothed human turned back to Trawm, he was greeted by a meaty fist which connected soundly with his jaw. *POW!* And everything went black. Trawm picked up the human's limp form with one hand and opened the door with the other. With a quick toss, he threw the man out of his bar and into the storm. "I TOLD you to leave him alone!" ------- Luthor was shaken awake. He opened his eyes and looked into a horribly misshapen face of greenish tint. Startled, his eyes opened wide and he let out a gasp of suprise. "Hey elfie, hows it goin'?" The misshapen face twisted into something that could have been a grin. "You done saved my place last night. I owes you a lot for dat." Luthor stood and brushed off his clothes. He reached a hand inside his cloak, deeper than should have been possible. When he pulled it out, he frowned. "Where is the gem?" "Oh, dat thing. Some guy was talkin' about stealin' it, so I kept it safe for you. Here it is. I thought 'bout keepin' it, but I owe you at least dis much." Trawm handed the large black gem to Luthor who put it into his cloak. "Thanks. What about the storm? Has it blown over?" "Yep, 'bout four hours ago. It was movin' so fast you can't see it on da horizon no more." To illustrate, Trawm opened up one of the shuttered windows revealing a bright blue sky. A gentle wind wafted through, bringing with it a fresh, clean smell. The Low City hadn't smelled this good in the past hundred years. Wanting to see more, Luthor walked to the front door of the Spitting Cobra in long, quick strides. On the way, he passed a few patrons who looked the image of despair. When Luthor opened the door, he could see why. Most of the Low City was in ruins. Twisted piles of wood and some stone were all remaining of the shanties. Over them, Luthor could see all the way to the Shunned Center, standing as if untouched by the disaster. He shivered and turned away from the sight. As he did so, he caught sight of a fading rainbow. It shored up his hope; an idea struck him. Trawm joined him outside the Spitting Cobra. It was one of the few buildings still standing. Quietly, Trawm thanked the gods that he had insisted on a stone building: his original idea was that stone would be more bar-brawl resistant. "Trawm, I would like to talk to you...about some business." They walked back inside the bar. Occasionally, throughout the rest of the afternoon, Trawm's booming laugh could be heard across the ruins of the Low City. ADMIN: More to come Love and Peace and Hope, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader Date: Thu, 15 Apr 1993 13:18:53 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93105.131853ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [L&S] Hello, Is Anyone Home? After his meeting with Trawm, Luthor left the Low City for his home by the sea. He did not think of what sight might greet him there. He just walked... he would find the truth soon enough. There it was, safe and sound at the top of a 50' high pillar of earth, leaning slightly to one side, but unharmed. From the look of the watermarks, the sea had risen about 20 feet during the storm. Briefly, Luthor thought of the other Elven houses in this district and how much damage the water had done to their precious art. He dismissed the thought. If the were smart, they would have wardings against water since they lived only a few hundred yards away. Luthor's thoughts were interrupted by a shout of greeting. He looked up and saw Trina waving to him out a second-story window. "I'll be up in a minute." He walked out of her view and into a shadowy area. "Hey, where are you...AAAAAHHH!" Trina screamed when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She spun around and instinctively reached for her knife despite its absence. She thought a curse and tried a combat roll that Captain had tought her. It was slow and clumsy, but effective. She had tumbled close to her attacker and as she stood, she hit him hard in the stomach. It was then that she bothered to notice who it was. "Oh my, I'm so sorry Luthor. I didn't know it was you...." "I'm... *gasp* ...fine... *cough* Just let me get my...*gasp*...breath back," he said doubled over. "Hey, how did you get up here so quickly anyway? There's no stairs or a ladder or anything. I tried looking for a way down as soon as the storm left, but there is none. It's a good thing I'm not afraid of heights." She spoke in a lightly scolding manner. "Where's Serene?" Luthor was no longer in pain, but his face had turned from its usual gold to a deep red. "She left to help out at the Inn. She should be okay there. She told me to tell you that she will return as soon as things quiet down and that you shouldn't worry." "I'm going to work on getting this house back to normal after I get some sleep. Wake me if Serene gets back or if you need to get down." Trina nodded and with that, Luthor left for his own room to get some much earned rest. Love and Peace and Quiet, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader From: rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Sailing on... Message-ID: <1993Apr15.182725.6882@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 15 Apr 93 18:27:25 CDT Kyar spent most of his time alone on the foredeck of the Rhymand. The companions (At least, those who were awake) had watched the storm drift away behind them over the horizon. Only then did they feel truly safe. Kyar had been worried that another black ship might appear to drag them back into the evil storm. The damage to the Rhymand was extensive, and nearly half of its crew had been killed in the battle, most of their bodies taken by the storm. Although Laurenth had patched the major hole in the hull of the little ship, there were numerous small leaks that had opened from the pressure of the stormy seas against the ship. The companions helped the crew with repairs as best they could, and did their best to carry out the duties of the missing crewmen. Kyar felt useless, so he stayed out of the way. His arm was healing, but very slowly, and he still couldn't close his left hand into a fist, much less use it in any kind of manual labor. He instead meditated and practiced focusing his control of the Phadra. Unfortunately this was difficult as well, for nearly all of his inner strength was focused on healing his wounds. An aura of depression seemed to be centered on the ship. The crew mourned over the loss of their comrades, and the companions were concerned about their wounded friends. There was something more, however... It was as if the aura of death that had surrounded the black ship had followed the Rhymand out of the storm. Even Alarond seemed to be affected, as he was quiet and withdrawn instead of his usual jovial self. All of this made Kyar uneasy. On top of it all, he felt... something. Something seemed to be wrong on the ship, but he didn't know what. He couldn't focus enough inner power to find anything, and it worried him. He tried to convince himself that it was merely shock from the horrible battle the companions had fought against the undead, but he couldn't shake the feeling of dread that hung with him. Yet he said nothing to the others, thinking it best not to worry anyone. Besides, if no one else in the party had noticed anything, there was probably nothing wrong. But still... He tried to take his mind off of it. He did the katas of the snow leopard style, although there was little room on the ship, and his left arm hung loosely at his side. He practiced his mental disiplines, trying to remember all of the lessons he had had when training with his master in Ra Kati. He pushed himself as far as his depleted strength would let him, yet he had trouble sleeping... He still felt like something was wrong... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [ADMIN] Re: [storm] [MG] A Restoration Message-ID: <1993Apr15.170440.14262@data-io.com> References: <1993Apr14.192906.11612@data-io.com> Date: Thu, 15 Apr 1993 17:04:40 GMT Hmm... this seems to have dropped of into the ether when I posted that last bit... [ADMIN: This was written by Stephen Hutchison in a conversation, fleshed out by me, framed by Hutch, and then intro'ed by me. 'Raelf is Hutch's, Kardia is mine, and the whole thing was a really cool meld of writing. That was a *lot* of fun, Hutch. And, yes, Chris, I'm getting to the conversation between Andrea, Sheryl and Kardia. Sorry it's taking so long... I have a demo deadline tomorrow. [actually, today... 15 Apr 1993 - plr]] -- Liralen Li | "... and how you feel can make it real aka Phyllis Rostykus | Real as anything you've seen... " li@Data-IO.com | Peter Gabriel _US_ MagicHutchHeader From: kjc@aramis.rutgers.edu (Kelly J. Cooper) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Jameson W. Walker about town Keywords: money, mapping, munching, musing, meandering Message-ID: Date: 16 Apr 93 01:03:17 GMT "A human being should be able to change a diaper, plan an invasion, butcher a hog, conn a ship, design a building, write a sonnet, balance accounts, build a wall, set a bone, comfort the dying, take orders, give orders, cooperate, act alone, solve equations, analyze a new problem, pitch manure, program a computer, cook a tasty meal, fight efficiently and die gallantly. Specialization is for insects." - Lazarus Long (as transcribed by Robert A. Heinlein) I'm sorry. I'd love to, but...I promised to help a friend fold road maps. - 101 EXCUSES FOR ALL OCCASIONS Jameson twiddled her change with the tips of her fingers, listening to it quietly jingle as she walked. She was pretty near broke, at least by the standards of this world. There was definitely a need for more cash. Moving smoothly through Generica she didn't look as if she were taking random lefts and rights -- just as the occasional touches searching for her coin didn't seem to be thieving. She had a specific purpose, just no particular direction. Eventually, what looked like a blind alley twisted and opened onto a small cul-de-sac of odd shops. The one that caught her eye was the Generican Guild of Cartographers. Smiling, she pushed open the door to the small building... ...and was greeted by a huge cloud of dust in an even larger room. The walls were lined with cubbyholes and between the walls at the back half of the room were towering shelves made up of hundreds more cubbyholes, all filled with maps and more dust. Above the shelves Jameson could see a second level with more storage area. A spiral staircase was off to one side, connecting the upper level to the floor. Directly before her, in front of the shelves, was a jumble of tables, or at least Jameson supposed they were tables since she couldn't see them under the many burial mounds of maps. In the middle of the room amidst the chaos a grumbling dust-covered dwarf was sitting at a drafting table and scribbling furiously. Pulling his grimy bifocals down his nose he looked up at her and chuffed dust through his mass of facial hair. "Well? Whaddya want?! Don't just stand there ..." he fell silent watching Jameson's right hand sketch a quick symbol in the air. He returned the greeting, his thick fingers moving with surprising deftness, and hopped off his stool. Walking over, he squinted up at her and something that might have been a smile crossed his face briefly. "Well, siddown, ye great lump. D'ya expect me to get a stiff neck jes' fer the privelege of speaking with ye?" Jameson stepped forward and snagged a stool out from under one of the elevated map piles. Settling on it, she leaned her pack against her leg and folded her hands. The dwarf looked at her a moment, then trotted to a particular pile of maps on one side of the room and dug around in what might have been a desk. Having found what he wanted, he returned, dragging his stool over with him. Settling on the stool he opened the book, courteously blowing the dust off to his left, away from Jameson, and pulled a pen out of his tangled beard. He scratched a few notes in his book, then handed her both book and pen. She noted her name, station and the signature of a Walker, then handed pen and book back. The dwarf looked at her entry a long time before blotting it and closing the book. Looking up, he said in a quiet but gruff voice, "Grumbli Blisterthum's the name, Walker." Jameson smiled and held out her hand. As he clasped it, she replied "Jameson. And thank you." He waved away her thanks. "Duty, Walker. Never forget one's duties. Now, what does an emissary of the Onari want with a dusty young child as myself?" Jameson ducked her head, "I'm sure your beard's older than my mother, sir." "Yes, yes. I'm honored." Grumbli hurried over the respect, "Just call me Grumbli and tell me what I can do for you." "I've come to offer maps, Grumbli, in exchange for some coin. I don't know how much they'll be worth to you -- the Mage Guild refuses to certify them." The Dwarf's eyes opened rather wide. He yelled over his right shoulder, "Slim! Git down here! Now!" A tall, bone-thin elf looked down at them from the upper level and nodded. During the time it took him to arrive, Grumbi had regained his composure, recovered his mug of ale and drunk half of it. "Slim, this here is Jameson Walker, emissary of the Onari. I need for you to get some clean parchment, a new pen and good ink from the back." Slim ambled off. Grumbli cleared his throat, "Now, Walker ..." "Jameson, please." She interrupted quietly. Grumbli cleared his throat with a growl. "Jameson, tell me, who refused to certify your maps?" He took another pull from his mug. "Archmage Fateuil." Grumbli almost spit out his mouth full of ale, then had an apoplectic moment of nearly breathing it. "Th' old fool! Bloody idiots we 'ave, wrapped up in th'most blind projects, makin' nothin' worth attention, couldn't recognize a dragon if it bit 'em on the nose... Well, I don't give a rat's arse! I'll certify any bloody thing you give me, Walker, and that's on my honor." Jameson grinned and they got down to negotiating the which,w the where, and the how much. * * * The passing of several hours found Jameson leaving the Cartography Guild with a bit more coin than when she'd entered. She'd added major detail to a local map covering the road from Generica out to Verland and over to the Barony of Stifer. She had been careful to add more specifics to the Bottleneck pass between them -- it could be a dangerous area, especially in bad weather. Finally, she'd sketched out some more information on the layout of the Great Heath, recording some of the most recent political re-arrangements of various baronies. She'd also secured temporary part-time employment until she ran out of Nexus-specific information. Grumbli had even implied he might keep her on retainer for low-level exploration of both Nexus and local planes. He wanted to both verify maps he already had and expand his library with new information. Feeling a bit more secure, Jameson made her way back to the Inn for a late lunch. She ordered something light from Littlefair and settled into the dwindling lunch crowd. When her food arrived, she began eating, only to be distracted from her lunch by an odd flash of light. She looked up, blinked several times at what she saw, then finished bringing the food on her fork to her mouth where she chewed absently, not noticing its taste at all. A couple of tables away, a group of people that included a man, three women, a large cat-man and a small unicorn were looking at a hologram-type image that greatly resembled Jameson's own star map projection style. The deck from which the image eminated was smaller and slimmer than her own. Oddness and odder still. The group dispersed, a tall woman limping over to the bar, the cat-man disappearing and one of the other women and the unicorn going upstairs, leaving the man and one woman at the table with the deck. Jameson finished her lunch and leaned back against the wall of the Inn to think. There was a chance these people might be of a similar technological advancement to the Onari. In which case, there might be a lot to learn from them. Then again, they might be ... well, trouble. There were a million things that they could do or be that would put Jameson in jeopardy. Quietly, she watched the couple. The woman was beautiful and the man very handsome and ... something tugged at her memory. She thought hard for a moment, trying to pin it down, but it was gone. Sighing, she wondered what the hell a bloody advanced memory was good for if it didn't always work. She looked back at the couple. They appeared ready to leave. She leaned forward, then settled back. They seemed to be on familiar terms with Littlefair ... her hands fiddled with the strap of her pack, but stayed where she was. Finally, Jameson chose to remain silent. There would be other chances to speak with them, once she'd asked around and checked ... suddenly, she started listening to herself and smiled privately at her own paranoid whining. She had survived thus far and would survive again. Or not. She was idly thinking of getting up and speaking with Littlefair when she suddenly had the urgent feeling that someone wanted very badly to speak with her. Concentrating, she suddenly heard Nescie's voice loudly in her mind's ear: "JAMESON! Oh! There you are. I'm not going to be able to make dinner. I've got a huge amount of work to coordinate before the meeting of the Archmages and I'm really trapped. I'll speak with you soon, right?" Then the presence was gone before Jameson could respond. Rubbing her eyes distractedly she stood, leaned over and scooped up her pack, then wandered over to the bar. On her way, something on the wall distracted her -- a bulletin board. She blinked. In a medieval bar there was a cork board, complete with pins and notices written on parchment. She changed direction and angled toward it. Some of the notices were well-worn, some ill-composed. One, possibly the most recent, caught her eye: FEMALE ROOMATE/HOUSING WANTED Looking for a female housemate to share a house and expenses who doesn't mind late nights, no smoking and Toad the Wet Sprocket on _Fear_. She softly murmured, "I love the wings of butterflies" and ran a hand through her rumpled hair. Distractedly, she wandered over to the bar. "Sir?" Littlefair looked up from the glasses he was stacking and smiled at her. "Littlefair's the name, lass. Might as well use it." Jameson smiled back. "I wanted to ask about the notice, looking for a female roommate? Who posted that?" Little fair blinked a bit, "Tall girl, walked with a limp. Not been around long. 'Raelf, the big blond mage? He seems to know her." "Uh, yes, um, who exactly is Ralph?" Jameson smiled up at the barman. "'Raelf. Softer, like. He's a good one. All in trade, everything he does. His friends are a bit odd, though." Littlefair nodded his approval and Jameson felt oddly relieved. Interesting things, instincts. She thanked him and returned to the board. Rummaging through her bag, she pulled out a slender black rod and shook it before using it to draw the shape of a butterfly on the woman's notice. The ink came out a rainbow of five or six different colors. Then she wrote "JAMESON" across the bottom and tucked the pen back into her pack. Now that she was somewhat solvent, she wanted something more private in terms of living space. She headed out the door, intending to pick up a few items she needed. In a tanning shop she paid a bit extra to have heavy gloves made for her while she explored a nearby small store filled with random junk. She secured a pen with an ink cartridge and extra inserts, some loose paper and a blank book before returning for her gloves. Then she spent the next few hours at a smithy, a little too near the heat of the forge, sketching outlines and designs on the loose parchment she'd brought. It took some time to get the journeyman to take her seriously enough to let her speak with the shop's Smith. But the older man's eyes gleamed when Jameson described a process for making lighter, tougher metals. She offered to teach more in return for a custom job. The man had a nephew who would be able to carve the pedals for her and he himself would do the fine gear work. She promised to return early the next morning, ready to get dirty. The Smith thanked her respectfully and cheerfully recommended his nephew when Jameson asked about staves. He even had his journeyman escort her over and secure a reasonable price for a solid fighting staff. By this time, dusk began to fall and Jameson returned to the Inn for a simple supper and quiet rest. She wanted to get to sleep early, to get up early. She leaned her new staff against the door, hoping it would be undisturbed all night, and sank thankfully into the bed. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Kelly J. Cooper \ Whistling in the dark... Tragically Hip Waif \ Comments appreciated. ...individual at large... \ kjc@cs.rutgers.edu --------------------------------------------------------------------- MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Andrea and Sheryl (Chris Meadows)) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] [Jiri] [Storm] A Stormy Evening Date: Thu, 15 Apr 93 22:43:15 CDT Message-ID: <16BB113F83.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: [AU] [Jiri] [Storm] Andrea Sheryl unicorn Jiriku Kyhra ADMIN: Hi, this is Andrea and Sheryl again! >Nicker!< Our regular author, Chris Meadows, is temporarily, ahem, indisposed. So we're filling in for him. This post is supposed to bridge the gap between the [AU]/[Storm] thread and the [AU]/[HouseStorming] thread. It may not be much, but heck, gotta keep the story going. Expect more from me around maybe Monday or so. On with the story! This takes up right after Jiri has just been unable to help Kyhra. Once again, thanks to Dani Treutler for letting us use his characters! Andrea stood there, a bit confused. Kyhra was...? Should she try to comfort him? No, she didn't have time for this right now. There were people in the back room who were close to choking out their last breaths, and the last thing that they had time to do was mourn what they couldn't change now anyway. Andrea pushed the weeping Jiriku back, then crossed the fingers of her left hand even as she hauled off with her right and fetched Jiri a hefty slap across the face. "Snap out of it," she said. "You can cry later. Now you have lives to save. Get to it." Jiri shook his head to clear it. "You're--you're right," he gasped out. "The needs of the dying outweigh the needs of the already--" He choked off the last word. "Come, we must do what we can," he said, walking past Andrea to the back room, the tears still wet on his face. Andrea was alarmed to note that the silver streak in his hair had all but disappeared. Andrea uncrossed her fingers (you never know what will happen when you slap a mage) and followed Jiri. She would help with bandages while he healed with magic. Sheryl followed her, looking quizzically at Jiri. She nickered an interrogative at Andrea, but Andrea just shook her head. "Not now, Sheryl. Ask me later." As Andrea prepared bandages and poultices, using skills taught her by Father Phylum in the days before the curse, she looked at the little unicorn and wondered. There had been some legends about the healing powers of a unicorn's horn, but they'd never worked out with Sheryl. Andrea wondered if it was the restraining magic of the curse that kept Sheryl from developing other powers such as healing. Perhaps when Kardia removed the curse they would be able to find out. The time was perhaps 8 or 9 p.m. now. It should have been still light outside, but it was pitch black. Andrea used a lantern to find her way into her room. Sheryl and Carson were already waiting there--Sheryl was curled up on the bed, and Carson was hiding under it--the thunder made him even more nervous than Sheryl. Jiriku, after enough clerics had arrived that he was no longer needed, had gone off somewhere and was now nowhere to be found. "What a day..." Andrea groaned, putting the lantern on a bedside table and running her fingers through her hair. She was extremely tired, yet also stiff from the day's work. "Get off, you," she said, shooing Sheryl off the bed and sitting down there herself. As Sheryl snorted, Andrea lay down and started running through her muscle relaxation/deep breathing exercises. Within a few minutes most of the stress of the day had left her, and she just felt tired. And she was worried. She had blocked it out earlier, when there had been people to be taken care of, but now it came back in full force. Kyhra--what had happened to him? Jiriku seemed to think that he was dead. So what if he was? Andrea had lost people she cared about before--gods, she'd lost her entire FAMILY before going through puberty. So what was so special about Kyhra? She'd only known him for a day or so... This question was the last thing on Andrea's mind as she drifted off to sleep... [ADMIN NOTE: The entry "Adventures in Real Estate" comes next, chronologically.] -- Chris Meadows || Pity me, I live near Branson!!! CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || ----------------------------------- CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || Andrea & Sheryl CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || [AU] thread, alt.pub.dragons-inn MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Andrea and Sheryl (Chris Meadows)) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] [HouseStorming] A Game of Solitaire Date: Fri, 16 Apr 93 00:06:25 CDT Message-ID: <16BB2182.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: [AU] [HouseStorming] Andrea Sheryl Enn Piecy Kardia unicorn ADMIN: Hi! It's Andrea and Sheryl again, with yet another post tonight! This one takes place AFTER "Adventures in Real Estate." Now that the timeline is completely unbroken once more, we can get on with things. Those of us who have already been through the storm, anyway--Sheryl and I have noticed a couple of people, like Jameson, who have yet to experience it! Not that you should hurry up or anything. The last thing we want to do is force people to rush their posts. Anyway, here it is. We would like to thank everybody. More complete thanks may be found in the weekly review of the [AU] thread...I'm not going to retype the whole thing here. For now, we just want to say thank you, you know who you are. Oh, and we almost forgot...the last part of the entry was written partly by us and partly by Liralen Li (Kardia). Thanks! On with the storyline. Hit it, Sheryl! That afternoon, Andrea was sitting in the common room of the Dragon's Inn. She didn't have anything particularly pressing that needed to be done--all those who had been injured by the storm were now under the care of healing clerics--so she was playing a game of solitaire to pass the time while Sheryl was lying down over near Listener, who was sitting on the mantel singing and playing. The game was called Klondike--Fujiko had taught it to her during her time at the Selactican Thieves' Guild. The setting involved seven piles of cards of varying height, stacked from one card high on the very left to seven cards high on the far right. The top card of each pile was turned face-up, the rest were face-down. Cards were taken from these piles, as well as the draw pile, and placed in ascending order on the suit piles, and also placed in descending order alternating red and black on the top of the setting piles. Sometimes Andrea would win the game fairly, other times she would have to resort to "sneaking" a card out from the bottom of one of the layout piles to finish the game. Currently, the only card that was holding Andrea up was the 4 of spades. It wasn't in the draw pile; she'd been through it twice already. It had to be in one of the setting piles. "You're good with the cards." Andrea looked up, startled. "Huh?" The voice had come from that adolescent seer, Enn Piecy. Without asking, he sat down across the table from her. "It's this card here, you know." Enn tapped the second card in the pile at the right end of the layout, relative to Andrea, under the up-turned 6 of spades. "That's the card you want." Andrea grunted, putting a 7 of hearts from the draw pile onto an 8 of clubs, then moving the 6 of spades over onto it. She flipped the card beneath it--the 4 of spades, just as Piecy had predicted. "I'm good with cards, too," Enn said matter-of-factly. Andrea finished the game, putting all the cards onto their piles and then shuffling them together. Just for fun, she shuffled them into order without looking--A,A,A,A,2,2,2,2, etc.--and fanned them out. Enn nodded. "Wish I could do that," he said wistfully. "Just practice, that's all it takes," Andrea said. "I can show you the basics sometime, if you want." She finished shuffling, cut the deck, and flipped it at Enn, who plucked it from midair. "As long as I'm here, I might as well do a reading for you," Enn said, dealing out some cards. "Don't you have to use a special deck?" Andrea asked. "Like tarot or something?" Enn Piecy shook his head, laying out more cards. "Only if the customer wants to be impressed," he said. "Otherwise, I just use whatever method is most convenient. There are dozens of ways to read fortunes. Tarot, standard deck, casting coins or sticks, signs in nature, numerology...I can even read tea leaves, though I rarely ever do that." "Too hard?" Andrea asked. "No, it's just that I never could stand to drink the stuff." Enn concentrated on the layout for a few minutes. "Hmmm," he said at last. "You and some companions are about to embark on a perilous undertaking--" "The house!" Andrea said. "It has to be the old house!" "Could be..." Enn admitted. "But then again, it might be something else entirely. You never can be sure, with the cards." "What else do they say?" Andrea asked eagerly. "Is there anything else that can help us?" "Patience, ma'am, patience..." Enn Piecy drew another card and examined it. "You will face great danger, but if you persevere, the end will hold both triumph and reversal." Enn sat back in his chair, crossed his arms behind his head. "That's it." "That's IT?" Andrea asked incredulously. "Nothing else?" "Hey, if I told you everything, it would take all the fun out of living through it. Nobody should know his own future too well. That's why I rarely do readings for myself. But still..." He pulled out a couple more cards, examined them, and his face turned grave. "I think I had better give you this." He pulled a small silver ring out of one of the pockets of his robe. "Wear this on your right ring finger," he said. Andrea slipped it on. It felt warm against her finger, even though it hadn't been worn. "What is this for?" "You'll know when the time comes for it," Enn said. "Just whatever you do, don't take that ring off." He looked very worried. Andrea noticed Enn's worry. "Well, if you say so..." She adjusted the ring on her finger. "Thanks...I have a feeling that soon I will need all the magical help I can get." "This doesn't mean we're engaged or anything," Enn Piecy explained hastily. Andrea grinned and chuckled. "Of course not. Well, thanks for your reading, and for the gift of this ring." Enn nodded. "That's why I'm here. Just remember me later on, okay?" He looked around. "Excuse me--I'd better return to my dark corner." He put the rest of the deck down, stood, and walked away. Andrea watched him go, then looked at the ring. "Huh." Just then, the door swung open and Kardia walked in with 'Raelf behind her. 'Raelf went to join ar'Elya at their table. Andrea waved to 'Raelf and called out, "Hey, Kardia, over here!"as she swept up the laid-out cards, squared the deck, and put it up. Kardia walked over to the table with a smile on her face about a mile wide and a slightly strangely elongated stride with her left foot. Andrea wondered momentarily how she was able to walk now yet earlier had been forced to hobble about with the aid of a staff, but dismissed the question because it wasn't polite to pry. "Nice day for a walk." Kardia said with that smile still on her face. "Yes, it is, isn't it?" Andrea said, regarding her enigmatically. She pursed her lips and whistled for Sheryl. The little 'corn got up, nickered, and trotted over to Kardia, who petted her on the neck. "Braids?" Kardia asked, noticing the state of Sheryl's mane and tail. "A little girl down at the Temple of Aditi did it," Andrea said. "I think it's rather cute, don't you?" Sheryl snorted in disgust, causing both Kardia and Andrea to laugh out loud, to her consternation. "So, Andrea, have you and Sheryl decided just what you wish to do about the curse?" Kardia asked, shifting her legs under the table, still smiling. Andrea nodded. "We would like you to dispel the curse, as long as doing so would not interfere with Sheryl's current shape-identity." Kardia nodded. "Is there somewhere we can talk in private and I can get a full set of measurements?" Andrea nodded. "Our room in the back." "Okay, good. I need to discuss this operation with you." Andrea and Kardia got up, their chairs producing a scraping sound as they pushed back from the table, and walked toward the corridor, with Sheryl right behind. Enn Piecy watched them go from his corner. He grinned. The cards never lied, no matter whose deck they were from. The coming events were going to be very interesting, to be sure. He was glad he would be around to watch them. -- Chris Meadows || Pity me, I live near Branson!!! CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || ----------------------------------- CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || Andrea & Sheryl CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || [AU] thread, alt.pub.dragons-inn MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Bulletin Board Date: 16 Apr 1993 06:28:43 GMT Message-ID: <1qljmr$mo0@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: archives NEW THIS WEEK: Posted by: Kardia (Liralen Li, li@Data-IO.com) Content: FEMALE ROOMATE/HOUSING WANTED Looking for a female housemate to share a house and expenses who doesn't mind late nights, no smoking, Toad the Wet Sprocket on _Fear_. OTHER ACTIVE NOTES: Posted by: Imports, Exports, and Arms (Jeremy Nelson, gujn@uniwa.edu.au) Content: WE apologize for any time distortions in the local area, however, due to testing of a device (Henceforward known as 'The Thing'), the local timestream has become dislocated. There is no danger, however some people may undergo slight disorientation. Some people may apparently find themselves in multiple locations at one time. We assure customers that this is not dangerous, and all time lines are in fact continuous, and will straighten themselves out in time. We recommend leaving early for any important appointments. Normal service will be restored tomorrow, yesterday, in three weeks' time, and in three hundred and thirty years. All complaints should be forwarded to: Imports, Exports, and Arms. We thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Moriarty (Aaron Humphrey, aaron@space.ualberta.ca) Content: |-------------------------------| | Moriarty Investigations, Inc. | | | | Magic and muscle at your | | service! No problem too large | | or small! Reasonable rates! | | | | 15A-Gamma Cor Caroli Lane | | Just off the Arcade of | | Unforgotten Heroes! | |-------------------------------| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Trawm (The Dreamer, asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Content: Attention all Real Men: If you is reading this then you is in the rong bar. Come to the Spitting Cobra were you can have a good time at a good prise. FITING ENKOURAGED. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Posted by: Scott Gillig (David Chase, starride@silver.ksu.ksu.edu) Content: NOTICE: I am currently looking for and at different types of employment. In brief I am a Mercenary. I have many other skills and have worked with many different people: Areas that I have a working knowledge of: Fighting Seigecraft Horsemanship (raising, riding, training) Blacksmithing Weaponcrafter Armorer Carpentry Ships mate Ship Pilot Ship's gunnery Water Nav Bodyguard (personal, and group) Caravan teamster, Roady for Carnival How wizards/mages work (not how magic works) Archery, Fletching, Limited Hunting I can and have dealt with the Otherside (underground) I know how to deal with nobles and wizards/mages I will always keep the best interest of my job and/or employer in mind in all my actions. If anyone is interested in possibly hiring me I will be here at the Dragon's Inn. Scott Gillig I am Scott Gillig. I am "Dwarf Friend". If you are interested in having a good warrior and human who knows the dwarf way, contact me. I have lived with the dwarves for one year learning your way, and have travelled with my best friend TAK (dwarf) for 8 years. I am Scott Gillig. I am "Elf Friend". I have travelled with different elves for over 9 years. I am knowledgable in your ways and customs. I am a good fighter and honorable man. I know the ways of the world and wood. The above note is still good. I have currently found temporary employment with a group needed one of my skill as a mercenary. I should return here in two weeks and will be seeking employment at that time again. Post any messages here or leave a message with Littlefair at the bar. Scott Gillig ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Malthus Dela Noeuze (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Content: **************************************** ** Perfumerie Grand Veneur ** ** Is Seeking a Person To ** ** Find and Bring Back a Great ** ** Blooddrinker or Souleater ** ** For Perfumeric Substances ** ** All Contacts Considered ** ** ** ** Master Perfumerist Malthus ** ** Dela Noeuze ** **************************************** SPECIAL STATUS: Posted by: Zenith (Mike Bavister, mrhyde@netcom.com Content: ANNOUNCING THE A.P.D-I ARCHIVES I have been carefully recording all that has transpired here at the Inn and in Generica. I estimate that my archives are missing less than 1 in 100. The archives contain over 4600 chapters (articles) in 20 huge volumes (MB). Currently the archives are only indexed by Subject (Subject line), but my trusty scribes are hard at work attempting to compile a keyword-index by name, place, and "thread". Alas, this task may take a while. There are two methods by which you, the citizens of Generica, can access the archives (and their indexes). Via the Post-Office or by Magic. Via Mail: Send mail to the address below, with your request in the body of the message. I will then search the index(es) for you, and either mail you the matching "chapters" or a list of matches (if there are too many "hits"). Until the keyword index is compiled, I will be very reluctant to search the actual archives for your requests. TO: mrhyde@netcom.com. EXAMPLE: Dear Zenith, Please search your archives for all occurance of "Lancos" or "Zebron". Thanks. Via Magic: I have set aside a portion of my personal library for the Indexes and other materials of interest. If you know the powerful "FTP" spell, you can access the indexes directly. The arcane formula is listed below. This archive is "read-only", you may retrieve anything you like from it, but you can't place anything there. If there is something you'd like placed there for the benefit of all Generican citizens, let me know via mail. Do not forget to use "binary mode" for all not in ".txt" format. The FTP library currently contains: Subject indexes (no.1-no.3999) The Directory of Generica (latest edition) JourneyGarb flyer/catalog APDI FAQs (full and mini) And coming soon: The DragonQuest Saga *note* All ".zip" files are compressed using the latest state-of-the-art compression magic. Older uncompression magic may not work (use "zip19" or "pkzip2.04"). If you have any difficulty with either the transfer of files or decompression, please let me know. ftp netcom.com(192.100.81.100) login: anonymous password: (your e-mail address) cd /pub/mrhyde/APDI Cheers and happy reading ____ / __ __ o _|_ | / |__| | | | | |__ /___ |__ | | | |_/ | | Head Librarian of the Great Library of Generica _________________________________________________________________________ ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Atlas : in transistion Date: 16 Apr 1993 06:32:29 GMT Message-ID: <1qljtt$mo0@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: archives Due to formatting differences between Dennis's machine and mine, the Atlas won't be out this week. If anyone else has a RTF of the most current version I wouldn't mind hearing from you. ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader Date: Thursday, 15 Apr 1993 12:47:17 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93105.124717344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD][Storm] Neither rain nor snow nor gloom of night... [ADMIN: Again I (we, actually; many thanks again to Joe Carl Jr. and The Dreamer) reply to a Generican disaster _after_ it's really over. Oh, well, que sera sera...] [ADMIN2: A little background, as even _I_ {:-)!} forgot the events: When last we left, Gutt Man had just been arisen by BBD, kidnapped Lissa -- Darvos' ward --, and starting running through Low City...] The sun slowly lost its prominence, not only as the day turned into night, but also because of a quick gathering of clouds. A storm was coming to Generica, with an unnatural speed and intensity. People throughout the town saw the signs or heard the warnings and headed for the safest place they knew, to avoid the storm's fury. By the time the hard, chilling rain began to fall, all were sheltered as best they could manage. At least, those did who were competent about the situation, or felt they had a real choice. The Gutt Man was one who didn't have a choice, though it could be said that he didn't have the mental competence to come out of the rain, either. He had been running to escape his pursuers with inhuman speed. Over his shoulder was slung a limp little body, Lissa. She was unconcious from a blow to the head delivered by the Gutt Man when he had made his escape. This was an unusual situation for him; he usually dispatched the wretched soul as soon as he could. But if the voices in his head wanted her to stay alive for a while, and he was going to be given more powers to serve the cause, he would entertain the voice a little longer. His pursuers also felt little choice in not seeking shelter from the storm, though it was for more heroic reasons. Between Darvos' amulet link, Lancos' tracking, and the Little Rat's knowledge of Low City, it wasn't hard to follow. This combination was a fortunate one, since the Gutt Man, with his new-found powers, was fast eluding them, and the storm's heavy raindrops were cleansing the trail quickly, making it difficult to follow him. And they wouldn't have received any help from the Low City denizens either, due partly to the storm and the large survival instinct -- survival by not interfering with what might kill you -- they had. They had long since lost sight of the Gutt Man, but the efforts of this newly-formed group didn't give the Gutt Man many hiding places that would elude them. Lancos was far from falling to overconfidence though, and everything remained all business. This was helpful when the lead by the Gutt Man was lengthened even further, when signals as to the path he had taken conflicted with each other. Lancos saw indications that he had taken the side alley merchantile district, while Little Rat knew a better route for escaping pursuers was straight ahead, and Darvos' divination rod attuned to the amulet Lissa wore indicated the left alley, leading deeper into the Low City. They decided to follow the latter, and soon the divination rod indicated she was close by. They rounded a corner and nearly literally ran into a woman. As she faced them, and drew a weapon in surprise, they could see she was dressed as a fighter, with curly black hair and darker skin. "Whoa. We mean no harm." Lancos said, trying to be diplomatic,"We're just trying to find a little girl, who was wearing this magically trackable amulet." He pointed to the rod, which was now vibrating wildly. "Er... I might have picked that up; I just found something. I sort of collect jewelry, as a hobby." And when she produced Lissa's adornment, they saw she spoke the truth: she also had on a seven-pointed star, with three interlocking silver trees sculpted upon it, and a blue runic bracelet on her arm. She swept the amulet back and forth in the air, in several directions and speeds. When the rod followed so fast it almost seemed it anticipated her moves, she frowned, and handed it to Darvos. "Sorry about that." "No problem. Just take care; it's not safe to be here alone." Lancos said. He wished he could give more of an apology, but they had to leave. "Don't worry." she smiled. "I'm protected." They ran back to the spot they had recently left. The choice was down to the safer route indicated by Little Rat or the trail that was fast dissappearing in the rain indicated by Lancos. Darvos cast a spell to determine Lissa's location and found her to be far to the right, well into the merchantile district of the Low City. Darvos discarded the divining rod and put the amulet in his now-drenched cloak pocket. The Gutt Man had lost his pursuers a while back and was finally beginning to relax. As he arrived at the store the voice had told him to go to, his only real concern now was to get out of this rain. ======================================================================== Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader Date: Thursday, 15 Apr 1993 13:40:38 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93105.134038344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD][Storm] Neither rain... (cont.) [ADMIN: Subtitled "Couldn't Stand the Weather". Due to Circumstances Beyond My Control {tm} (probably The Thing :-)!), I had to abruptly end the previous post. This'll fix _that_. Let's see, where was I...] >The Gutt Man had lost his pursuers a while back and was finally beginning to >relax. As he arrived at the store the voice had told him to go to, his only >real concern now was to get out of this rain. * * * * Borret Skimer was the owner of this store, and he ran it along with his family and a few trustworthy helpers. It was a store containing various wares, and despite being more expensive than one might expect, was somewhat popular. This allowed the Skimers to afford a house outside of Low City, and live there comfortably. Borret would smile a bit when he thought about that, since he was among many in thinking that being distanced from Low City was a good thing. However, that smile never grew too big, for despite his attempts at affluence, he didn't own the building. Borret didn't know the landower but occassionally got instructions from him via a messenger. Borret didn't care much as long as the landlord wasn't an overdemanding one. The instructions he had gotten just before the storm broke was close to trying his patience, though. But he didn't dare say a word to the deliverer; something about this man indicated power. This helped explain two things. First, why the store was closed, even if Borret was still there. And second, why someone strange was in the building. The visitor was tall, standing almost 6' 4" with perfect posture. He looked to be very young, but it was hard to tell exact features because he had a cowled cloak up over his head. He had a weird smell to him that made Borret uncomfortable; it reminded him of an Undertaker's parlor. And the man never left the shadows of the store. A hard pounding came at the locked back door. The other man motioned with a subtle flick of his wrist that Borret should let the person in. Borret unlatched the back door and the Gutt Man burst in with a soaked Lissa slung over his shoulder. The Gutt Man behaved as if he were cornered, but could still tell the voice in his head was with him and grew confident again as no one made any attack on him. "Ah, finally you arrive." a voice from the darkness said, "and none too late, I might add. The storm is reaching its height, and when it does, it will be the precise time for the magics to begin." The speaker lit a torch, and pushed back his cowl to reveal his face. It was a young face, barely into his twenties, or so it seemed. Something was odd about his face that wasn't discernable at first, but upon closer examination one realized he had no eyebrows. Looking to Borret, he said, "You may leave now.". Borret scampered out of the store, still grumbling a bit. Though when he thought about it a bit, he wondered _why_. He remembered the last time Generica had been hit with weather this bad. He had been ready to take shelter in the back, but people still came in, as if the weather was fine or they didn't have someplace better -- safer -- to be. He didn't want to have to go through something like _that_ again. Particularly when the landlord would pay for any damages that occurred. * * * * Inside, the man flicked his wrist towards the door, and it slammed shut and locked itself. "Please follow me this way." he said to the Gutt Man as he turned toward the back room. This room was better lit, and was set off by a large table which had candles surrounding it, and various symbols painted upon its surface. "Put the child on the table. I shall do the rest.". When the Gutt Man complie, the wizard nodded, the muttered the words of a minor spell. "Good, all is as it should be. Now while the storm builds the energies that bolster the chance of success, I shall give you the reward you so deserve." The wizard produced a metallic bracelet with several engraved runes, and handed it to the Gutt Man. "Put this on. It will sustain your powers and ... connect us." The Gutt Man looked at the bracelet warily for a time. He enjoyed his abilities, all right, but had always been tentative when it came to magic. After a moment's hedging, the wizard finally snapped the bracelet on Gutt Man's arm, and said, "There. And now, even though you were reluctant, I shall give you a weapon, as I know you have need of one.". The wizard handed The Gutt Man a long, black bladed curved dagger. The Gutt Man grinned happily and took a few swings in the air around him for practice. It appeared to be even better than his old knife. Or would be, once he was used to its grip. "Now for her.". The wizard moved over to Lissa's prone form and cast the first of a series of spells, the final word ironically punctuated with a clap of thunder. The wizard cut a small gash in her arm, and let some blood flow into a small vial. He added a few pinches of some strange herbal mix that glowed with a dark red flourescent light to the vial. It began to bubble and smoke. The wizard smiled broadly and murmured, "Yes, she is the one that will make me immortal." He turned to the Gutt Man and explained, "You see, about 40 years ago I was working on becoming a Lich. When in my haste I took a short cut which was almost catastrophic. Instead of being transformed, I now age backwards and am truly over 100 years old now. At first it seemed like a blessing until I started forgetting my powers relative to the younger I got. You see, the younger I get, I forgot what I learned during those years. Oddly enough, I seem to remember just fine what has occurred during the years of my regression, though. But my mind is missing 40 years of history starting 80 years ago. Now those years are starting to get into when I first learned wizardry and I am in jeopardy of losing my skills all together." "Through the years I have re-taught myself my wizardly skills as I loose them. It's not so bad, as long as you still have the basics under your belt. But now I'm about to lose the basics too. It's dangerous to know how to cast mighty magic but not understand what you're doing anymore." He turned back to Lissa's prone form on the table and resumed his work. Why he had told the Gutt Man what he did, he didn't know, but it wouldn't matter much soon anyways. He squeezed the girl's flesh wound to cause it to start bleeding again, and drew some more blood. The rain intensified further as the magic ritual began. ============================================================================ Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu (christopher motherway) Subject: [Raoh]->[AU][Housestorming] Returning home...or what's left of it Message-ID: Date: Fri, 16 Apr 1993 17:13:22 GMT ADMIN: Okay, the [Raoh] string ends here. To all involved, thanks. You've done phenom. Now, it has been a little under two months since the team left. The [Storm] has passed, and the team are just about to arrive back at Generica to pursue their own lives again.... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "...And so Rustan showed up and help the prisoners out of the city, and Firecat and I ran to help you, chopping some underlings along the way." The team listened to Garol talking of his adventure getting the prisoners out of the Tower Dungeon of Kassandra. Only Lance was not listening with a full ear; he was busy composing "The Conquering of a Conqueror" on his mandolin. This was the first time he had to write a song for a good while; the last one he wrote was a love song to Blaze. "It will certainly be great to get back to Generica again." said Firecat. "I suggest a tankard of drinks to all of us once we return to the Dragon's Inn!" All agreed, even Lance. The Murduk Whiskers in Specifica of Cod could not compare to the one Littlefair mixed. "Well," said Brycur, "I want to check on my store first. I haven't been away from it this long for quite some time." Lance re-slung his mandolin across his back and said, "Gentlemen, again I want to say thank you for assisting us. Your rewards were well deserved and you have my gratitude fore..." The last word stuck in his throat. The team had arrived at the valley on the north edge of Generica. Looking down, they saw the city. It was a mess. Rustan said, "What happened here?!?" Lance replied, "I do not know, but we had better find out!" The team raced, at full gallop, to the North Gate. The gaurd outside halted them. "Hold, adventures. Why the hurry?" Lance said, "Forgive me, sir, but we saw damage from the hill up there. We have been away a while. What has happened?" The gaurd looked more carefully and said, "Oh, yeah! You guys went to kill that Raoh character. Well, anyway, a vicious hurricane-type storm hit here about a week or two ago. Trashed a lot of buildings, but the overall damage was not that bad." As soon as Blaze heard the word "storm", she started weeping a little. "Oh, Lance," she cried, "this could have been the after-effect of my reviving you." Lance quickly replied, "No, Blaze! If it were, Generica would not be here at all. This is not your fault, beloved. Believe me. I can feel a little evil in the air, and if I know anything, it is that you are definitely not evil." Blaze wiped her tears and said, "I..I suppose you are right, my love. I also feel the evil." "Oh, it was an evil one, all right." said the guard. "Speculation said it could have been a wizard storm, but, then again, no one is absolutely sure." Lance turned to the group and said, "Go where you must, my friends. Blaze and I are headed for the Dragon's Inn...it IS still standing, I hope." "Oh, sure it is. Like I said, t'wasn't any major damage." With that the gaurd allowed them to proceed into the city. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Lance and Blaze arrived at the Dragon's Inn. Littlefair noticed the two immediately. "Sir Lance! Blaze! You're alive!" All the patrons turned to see the twosome enter the inn-proper. Some remembered that day Lance sung about Raoh and announced that he would go after him. These folks cheered as they approached the bar. Serene, hearing the racket, came out from the kitchen and, seeing Blaze, expressed her relief to her. Littlefair hand Lance back his will and said, "Another day or two and I would have sent it. Do not worry, friend, I didn't open it these past two months." Lance replied, "Thank you, Littlefair." He turned to Serena and said, "How did Shadehaven survive the storm?" Serene told the story of how the house was saved by Luthor's gem. "But don't think that Blaze's blessing didn't have anything to do with it." she added. "Those winds and rains were fierce, but, after it all, there was barely a scratch on the house." Blaze smiled as Serene went to another customer. Littlefair then told about the storm and how the Inn faired in it; how it was changed into a sort of hospitial/shelter for whoever stumbled to it. "If not for Andrea, the Inn would look have looked far worse." "Andrea?" said Lance. "Oh, yes, you HAVE been gone long, haven't you? Andrea's this nice kid, about 20 or so. Came in here about a month-and-a-half ago. Don't know much about her story but...hey, there she is now. Hey, Andrea could you come here a sec. And bring Sheryl, too." Lance and Blaze turned to see the young woman, smile on her face, as Little fair introduced them. Then Blaze looked at the creature by her side, and started to cry again. She knelt down to the animal and said, "I..I don't believe it... Lance, it is a...a...a unicorn! A true unicorn!" Andrea said, "Well, sort of..." Lance was amazed as well. He had always thought of unicorns as fables. Even when Blaze tole her of a time her father claimed to have played chess with such a creature and even had a painting to prove it (The painting was never recovered)! Then he asked, "Sort of? What is `sort of' a unicorn?" Andrea said, "This is my sister, Sheryl. She was changed into a unicorn by Raykor, a powerful wizard." Lance replied, "I know of powerful wizards. I just returned from destroying probably the meanest of them all: Raoh the Conqueror!" Andrea's eyes lit up. "You...you killed Raoh?!?" "Yes." She walked to him and squeezed him tight, saying, "Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Lance was wincing because her head was pushing against his scar. He politely pushed her back and said, "Hold on. A _group_ of us killed him. I believe Tarkyn was the one who actually slew him. Why are you so happy about this?" "Because that bastard killed my family! And Raykor was a minion of Raoh who controlled our city after Raoh left!" Andrea relayed the story of when Raoh visited, how Raykor changed Sheryl, how she became a thief. Blaze petted Sheryl and said, "Such a pity; to be transformed into such a creature that all would hunt her. That is truly evil!" Andrea said, "Sheryl doesn't mind. In fact, 'Raelf is already working on a curse lifter. She'll still be a unicorn, but, at least, the curse is off her back." Sheryl whinnied and nodded in agreement. Lance looked at Blaze, but Blaze said, "No, beloved, I cannot lift curses. I have never learned." Andrea was about to ask, but, by the way Sheryl was almost attracted to Blaze, she knew Blaze was some sort of magician. Just then, she had an idea. "Hey, I just bought this house which seems to be haunted. Perhaps you two could join me in `de-haunting' it!" Lance and Blaze looked at each other. Then they looked back and Lance said, "M'lady, we would be honored. After all, we have something in common...er, rather, HAD something in common: hatred for Raoh. Littlefair? Two Murduk Whiskers and whatever drink Andrea wants." After a pause, he added, "And...and in a small salad for Sheryl." Sheryl neighed in delight, having not have eaten for a while. Blaze said, "Whenever you want to get going, head up to room 13A. One of us is bound to be there, and we will join you." = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = ADMIN: I didn't elaborate at first to give SOME sense of suspense. I will join the [AU][Housestorming] string until the house is `de-haunted'. Chris Wolvie ------------------------------------- "The only good dragon is.....a GOLDEN dragon!" -Eric the Cavalier DUNGEONS & DRAGONS MagicHutchHeader From: fogelinc@pt.Cyanamid.COM (Carl Fogelin) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Storm][Observing] Healer wanted, stat! Date: 16 Apr 1993 21:29:48 GMT Message-ID: <1qn8gc$du4@c3po.jvnc.net> Crombie quickly scampered over to the stone arch he was under before and laid the elven child carefully down. Reaching into his pack, he pulled a small deflated weather balloon out and stuck it under her head. Then, reaching back into his pack, he pulled out his First Aid kit. 'Now what' thought Crombie. Looking into his kit he saw bandages, gauze, iodine, smelling salts, a small bottle of alcohol, a snake bite kit, and a tourniquet. Looking back at the child, he muttered "Are elves physiologically different than humans?..." A puzzled expression suddenly came to his face. 'Are Genericans similiar to me?' Sighing heavily, he grabbed some gauze and the alcohol and dabbed her face. 'At least I can care for the cuts and lacerations.' Suddenly the childs eyes fluttered open and a small whimper could be heard. A combination of fear and pain was evident in the child's eyes, and she tried to escape. Crombie grabbed her and quickly replied "You're ok. Shhh. Shhh. Calm down, I'm trying to help you. You do understand me? Good, good." Now that she had stopped fighting him, he continued with his ministrations. "I'm Crombie, what's your name?" he asked casually. "Arkk......" "Shhh, your just tired" said Crombie. "When you're more rested, we can introduce ourselves more properly. Now tell me, where does it hurt?" She gestured towards her head. "Yes, I know. You got a nasty cut there. I'm cleaning that out now. Sorry, I know it hurts. Any place else?" She pointed towards here stomach. "Stomach huh?" Crombie gently pressed on her abdomen and asked "Does this hurt?" She winced and nodded YES. 'Hmmm' thought Crombie, 'maybe just a bruise, but it could be something more serious.' She needed professional help. Looking up, he wondered where he was -- Plaza of Glittering Steel. 'Where to bring her?' he wondered. He could take her back to his ship... no, too many questions and the Doctor wasn't programmed for locals. Hmmm, most healing in Generica was done via magic -- either through mages or clerics. The mage guild was probably real busy with this storm. Nodding his head in silent agreement, he decided he'd bring her to one of the temples. "Ok" he said to her, "I'd like someone with healing magic to look at you." "Stooo..." "Storm? Don't worry, you're safe with me. The storm has no effect." She suddenly noticed that no rain nor wind nor anything was hitting them. Her eyes widened in surprise. Crombie just smiled, carefully picked her up, and started walking towards the temple district. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [ ADMIN: Is there a kind soul out there that will heal this child? Crombie will ] [ walk down to the area where the scarlett ribbon dome is, seeking help. If you ] [ are willing to help, contact me or just post the help. Remember Crombie's ] [ "magic dampening" field. BTW: I'll be off-net this weekend, so I can't respond ] [ until monday. ] ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Carl Fogelin (fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com) "All opinions are strictly mine" Up the long ladder and down the short rope, To Hell with King Billy and God bless the Pope. -- traditional MagicHutchHeader Date: Friday, 16 Apr 1993 11:34:46 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93106.113446344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: This week in review [ADMIN: Please note, due to time lags, some things reach my site several days late. Therefore, while I'll provide a "mini-review" for all threads (that I see) if I'm not sent anything, it's best to just e-mail me a summary (by, say 11:00 EST Friday) for completeness' sake. Also, no violence in the Dragon's Inn is permitted -- any violent actions performed in the Inn will be considered a dream (or similarly retconned). No matter how fast the attacker, Littlefair and Listener are faster; no matter how strong, they are stronger. Hey, it's the only thing we really ask besides not bringing in invulnerable god-types as PCs/main characters, so please try to be considerate. Newbie posts are forgiven (and generally forgotten), but it does not validate any actions therein. This Week In Review -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Dragon's Inn and Newcomers Review: Again, mainly reactions to the storm. Of course, for some it's just starting, while for others it's completed. Heh, timelines, who can figure them out? Opinions vary, but most follow the idea that the storm is/was a fierce one, one not to be around as far as the general public (of course, this doesn't include most adventurers) is concerned. And the consensus seems to be that the aftermath is a brutal one: destroyed houses -- and lives -- everywhere. Also, in misc. news, we have a new person named Azariah in Generica, and looking for adventure (and no doubt eventually sure to find it). -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Those in the Inn (or at least PCs, as I last saw) Kryalla (& the unnamed listener to her tales),Amachiak&ChikCha, Eski Boseni, ...sage, Andrea&Sheryl, Jiriku, Serene, Mopper Marux -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Thread Catalogue (in alphabetic order; additions welcomed) [BBD] Contact: Mike Sander (344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu) Notes: Named after villian, and the "chase" for him. Room for growth (aka other PCs) now/soon. See reviews below for updates. [DS] Title: Demon Spiders Contact: Aaron Humphrey (aaron@atlantis.uucp) Involved: Dark Blades (Morgan Broman), Nercrum (Chris Steiner) Notes: Follows the exploits of the Demon Spiders gang, since they have separated from the [MI] thread -- although they may merge back together at any time. [GATM] Title: Ghost And The Machine Contact: Rick Jones (albert@bcm.tmc.edu) Notes: Krupp Faraway, ghostly halfling private investigator, is solving his own murder, and discovering a plot that threatens Generica. [Kal&Co] Title: Kal & Company Contact: Brent Davis (bdavis@cray.com) Involved: Denner Train, E'Karam, Kalendraf, Kevin, Meran Quicksilver Notes: In search for help for Kal's condition ("curse"/too-intense link with a magical horn). [L&S] Title: Luthor and Serene Contact: asg102@psuvm.psu.edu, alden@coos.dartmouth.edu Official characters: Luthor, Serene, The Captain Primary Themes: Love, Family, Adventure, Enjoying Life, Good vs. Evil, Loss, and Revenge Secondary Themes: Meteorology, strained carrots, colorblindness. [MI] Title: Moriarty Investigations Contact: Aaron Humphrey (aaron@atlantis.uucp) Involved: Dariel (Bernard Hsiung), the Mage Guild (common property), Jameson (Kelly J. Cooper), ...sage (Pete Calvert) Notes: Moving towards story-telling mode. Mostly an ego-tripping thread. :-) Touches on [DS] thread. Will do anything for a reasonable price. :-) [RATS] Title: Rats Catchers Contact: Hak Lien Chua (c164-ex@po.berkeley.edu) Involved: Higar (Hak Lien Chua), Git (D Morgan), Firgun (Scott Bradburn) Bakr (Thomas Kettenring), a duck (NPC) Notes: Searching the sewers for a real big rat and some fungi. [TW] Title: Twentlan Rescue Team Contact: Jorma Pesonen (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Notes: Leader of the Squiichar came to the Inn to gather a party to rescue the Queen of his people, and (apparently) battle space-time problems. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Submitted Reviews: [AU] Submitted by: Chris Meadows (chm173s@vma.smsu.edu) I can't remember EXACTLY where I left off with the last summary, so I'll take a guess. The storm blew in, and Andrea was up in the darkened common room of the Inn trying to make out the words on a mysterious tome. Jiri came up, she stashed the book in her backpack. Jiri cautioned Andrea about trying to learn magic on her own, but she ignored him. They went down to the basement, where Jiri and Listener played a duet to calm those taking shelter from the storm. Then Jiriku gasped, ran upstairs, tried to work magic, and then said that he had been unable to help Kyhra, that he was dead (he'd been pulled into the flood-water). He was about to go to pieces, so Andrea slapped him and set him to work on the wounded who were pouring in. After healing the wounded, he went off somewhere by himself. The next day, Andrea went out to make a couple of donations to various temples, and see about buying a home. Sheryl was a big hit with Aitreni, Delmara's acolyte at the Temple of Aditi, and got her mane and tail braided by Aitreni (much to Sheryl's disgust and consternation :). Then they went up to Glorshanned Keep, to the Office of Public Real Estate [Could whoever manages the tourist guide add a little note about said office under Glorshanned Keep?] to purchase a house. They ended up buying a 150,000 square foot mansion (for 5000 GP, a real steal) that was so booby-trapped that it had killed over 20 adventurers already. Andrea went out to see this house atop Merchant's Hill and was nearly hit by a poisoned dart. They went back to the Inn and posted a message advertising a House Storming. Unbeknownst to Andrea, her old nemesis Raykor, the wizard who had originaly cursed Sheryl, was currently hiding out in the house she had purchased, and he had caused that poisoned dart ot miss Andrea. Raykor had been using the curse on Sheryl to aid in his researches on curse magic, and was creating an extremely powerful curse, the most powerful spell he would ever cast, to lay on Andrea when she and her friends stormed the house. Later that afternoon, Andrea was playing a game of Klondike solitaire when Enn Piecy sat down at her table, told her fortune, and gave her a silver ring and told her not to take it off, no matter what. Then Kardia entered, walking on a newly-healed foot, and asked for Andrea and Sheryl's decision on the matter of the cursebreaking. The decision was "yes", so they decided to go back to Andrea's room at the inn and talk about it. ADMIN: We (Andrea and Sheryl; we've taken over for Chris Meadows while he's, ahem, inconvenienced) would like to convery our thanks to all the other authors in this thread--Liralen Li (Kardia), Steve Hutchison ('Raelf,ar'Elya), Dani Treutler (Jiriku, Cain, Kyhra (R.I.P.?)), and to those who "own" all the minor characters we've used with or without asking permission--Serene, Enn Piecy, etc. Also, we would like to say that we appreciate the ready cooperation found by all those who participated in the [Storm] thread (or let the [Storm] participate in their own threads, as the case may be :), and last (but DEFINITELY not least) all those people who have 'mentioned' our thread in their entries and will hopefully join in soon--people like Andrea Evans (Kadrys) and whoever it is who writes Jameson. Seeing our own events reflected in the posts of others really makes us feel welcome here. As always, if you want to get involved, just email us! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ [BBD] Submitted by Mike Sander (344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu) The thread finally got productive again at the end of the week, just in time for the TWIR (Gee; how'd I manage that :-)!). The Gutt Man carried Lissa to the meeting point BBD had arranged, pursued by Darvos, Lancos, and the Little Rat. The group was far behind, and lost even _more_ ground when they ran into a woman who had picked up Lissa's amulet -- one of the ways they were tracking her -- after it had been apparently disregarded. While the heroes got back on track, Gutt Man arrived at the designated spot, and met (along with the NPC owner of the store, Borret Skimer) a as-of-yet unnamed wizard. The wizard dismissed Borret, and began work on Lissa. He drained a bit of her blood, pronounced her apt for his experiment, and told his Life Story{tm}. Or should I say bi-life story, considering he's growing younger, and losing powers accordingly as he once learned them at that age the first time around. For his efforts, the Gutt Man received a new weapon, and a runic bracelet which the wizard claimed would sustain his new powers, and snapped on the Gutt Man when the child-killer showed some hesitance. The storm intensified; the ritual continued; the heroes still pursued. Now comes a wait to see exactly what happens next . -------------------------------------------------------------------------- [JOI] Submitted by: Jason Rosenberger (rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet) Correction from last summary: Aleric did NOT make it onto the deck of the Rhymand, but his rope was cut as he swung across and he fell into the sea. In a tremendous feat of endurance he somehow managed to keep up with the ship in the rough seas, until someone realized he was not aboard and dropped the anchor. He was able to signal the ship using a glowing gemstone, which Alarond saw. Alarond shapeshifted into the form of a dolphin and with the help of Darkin, got Aleric back aboard the ship. For about a week the companions spent their time recovering from the battle, and attempting to repair the ship. They are still at sea, but the Rhymand should reach land soon. ADMIN: There was also a crossover this week with the [Jiri] thread, dealing with the black ship and the storm. Don't miss it. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- [Pitzar] Submitted by Jason Corley (corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu) Jake Pitzar, ace reporter for the _Generican Examiner_ arrived home mysteriously during the storm and is still coping with the changes in Generica since he left. He's also run head-on into the reconstructions of Low Town. It's about to become a lot more important to him. ADMIN: The _Examiner_ is accepting articles and (for a huge price) advertisements for future issues...it can be found on most busy street corners for one silver coin. To get into the _Examiner_, mail corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Mini-reviews (alphabetically) [L&S]: We get a glipse into Erik's past, to another storm long ago, and a close escape, a no doubt influencing event in his life. [MG] 'Raelf, that ever-helping, multi-placial, surfboarding mage, makes Kardia a prothetic replacement for her left foot, in payment for helping him with Dasham in the future. Kardia is (understandably) overjoyed about the gift. Personally, I really enjoyed the post I saw, and not just because of the [DQ] reference... [Mr B]: Mister Boddy, Dana, and Evan make it to Generica, and pay a visit to their friend Eustace. While they dry off, Mister Boddy begins to form an idea about marketing yogurt in Generica . [TW] The Rescue Team again experiences an unexpected period of stasis, despite their best efforts. They decide to try to press on nevertheless. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= That's all for this time -- see you probably next Friday... Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hibschmn@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Johann Allen Hibschman) Subject: [JOI] Visions and forboding Message-ID: <1993Apr16.174709.24600@Princeton.EDU> Date: Fri, 16 Apr 1993 17:47:09 GMT On the third day after the encounter with the undeath ship, Quaeros emerged from his cabin and sought out the others. He had spent the past days in contemplation and prayer, offering no more than monosyllabic replies to any inquiries. He found his companions discussing their plans around a low wooden table. Their voices sounded strange after his seclusion, but it was good to be with others once again. "Good day, all," he offered, "Anything of world-shaking importance happen while I was indisposed?" "Well, look who's finally bothered to get out of bed! Have a good rest?" scowled Darkin sarcastically. Quaeros smirked at Darkin and continued, "I've been thinking. If that little encounter was specifically directed against us, I think it revealed something about the nature of at least some of our foes. That figure who was commanding the undead was some kind of demon or magical being or something. When I tried to drain some of its energy, as I had drained the wraiths, the spell went out of control and ended up sucking all of its energy away. But, once that was done, there was _nothing left_. It was all magical/spiritual energy, not a normal mortal being at all. I'm not sure what that means, but someone with rather unusual resources is opposing us." "There's more. At the very beginning of the fight, I experienced ... a vision. I felt another mind speaking within my own. It was somehow involved with the storm and the ship, I don't know exactly how. But it _knew_ me. Not just as someone on this ship, but from sometime before. I kept feeling flashes of suprised recognition, bemusement, and familiarity." "I've been contemplating that mental voice for a few days now, and I think I might know it as well. Over the years I think I've felt its touch a few times, but nothing this concrete. I have no idea why it could be interested in me, but I suspect it had something to do with the apparently magical plague which devastated my home town. Admittedly, I'm a slightly unusual elf, but I fear there could be more. I don't get sick. Poison doesn't affect me. I heal unnaturally quickly. I don't know why any of these things are, but I'm beginning to fear that I've been somehow blessed, cursed, or manipulated by something else." "The worst part is that I somehow got the impression that this thing _liked_ me. It tried to convince me to stand back and let the wraiths overrun the ship. It promised I wouldn't be harmed and would be granted much power if I would only do as it asked. But I refused it." Quaeros turned to face Alarond. "Alarond, I fear that this being or demon was one of the evils in your dream. Perhaps the storm itself was the other. The storm was obviously extremely magical, and, although I don't know much about this, it seems logical that the fury of a magical storm building could scramble messages sent from the other side. Perhaps you saw the true face of this creature in your dream, or perhaps it was a deliberate sending to frighten us away. I do not know. I've had a slightly forboding feeling over the past few days, as if something were watching me and waiting. I hope it's just nerves." --------------------------------------------------------------------- Johann Hibschman | My brain hurts! Sorry! Shut up! hibschmn@phoenix.princeton.edu | Sorry! My brain hurts! Shut up! --------------------------------------------------------------------- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: jcarl@jabba.ess.harris.com (Darvos Metnar) Subject: [BBD] Stop those fiends... Message-ID: Date: Sat, 17 Apr 1993 14:50:54 GMT [ADMIN: Thanks go to Mike Sander, and the Dreamer for all the help they put in to generating this story line. Mike Sander deserves a lot of credit. Thank you both!] [ADMIN: What has gone before Our 4 heros (Little Rat, Darvos, Lancos, and his cat Bast) have finally tracked down Lissa's whereabouts after being abducted by the Gutt Man.] The wind was reaching gale force now and the rain was coming down like a water fall on the trio of Darvos, Lancos, and Little Rat. Amazingly Bast was still following Lancos even though it now looked and felt like a drowned rat. The heros felt little choice though and only through the aid of Darvos' magic could the still pursue the Gutt Man. Darvos had feared the elven vampire that had attacked Lissa in the first place would try to seduce the child again one night, and he had taken the precaution to link her soul to his in a minor fashion so as to be alerted should something go wrong. Little Rat was soaked to the bone and feared she'd catch the sniffles after this, but continued on for her friend Lissa's sake. Vision was limited, particularly with the coming of night. Flashes of lightning lit the alleys they were trudging, and the clap of thunder reverberated down the corridors. Wind blew in their faces, and crept inside their clothing, chilling them to the bone. Nevertheless, they moved on, slowly, but with determination and fortitude, spurred on by the need for shelter as well as the desire to rescue Lissa shelter. It wasn't too much longer when Darvos' spell had led them to a store. The proximity indicated by the spell indicated Lissa was inside. The front door was locked, and Little Rat had trouble picking the lock due to the storm's fury Finally the reassuring click of the lock as it unlatched brought a smile to Little Rat's face. Which was quickly replaced with a frown when the door still wouldn't open. Darvos spoke up "Allow me". He balled his hand up into a fist, and bent his arm and wrist in towards his body. Then with a violent lashing out as if with an underhanded blow, his fingers flexed in the extension a flash of lightning punctuating the motion, the door flung open. Almost at the same time Darvos screamed out in pain, "AAAAaaahhh". He crumpled to the ground wracked with pain. A massive backlash of magical energy had traveled back down the fragile soul-link between Lissa and himself. The link was destroyed and Darvos could no longer tell if Lissa was nearby. Before Lancos or Little Rat could do anything to help him he said "He's hurting Lissa with Magic, quickly _you_ must save her" Little Rat and Lancos looked through the now open door into the building. It appeared deserted at first but when Lancos moved in warily, he noticed a strange flickering light under the door across the room. Apparently the storm's range had drowned out the sound of the door being blown open by Darvos' spell. Little Rat helped Darvos to his feet, the effects of the other wizard's spell backlashing through the soul link was wearing off, but he was still weak. Using hand signals, Lancos indicated there was someone on the other side of the door. Pointing to where he wanted the others to take up positions he kicked open the door and caught the people in the room by surprise. The wizard was in the middle of an incantation, but had little choice but to finish it. He had to trust that the Gutt Man with his new powers would be able to hold of the intruders until he could finish. The Gutt Man was caught by surprise, as he was enjoying the show the wizard was putting on. The slow cuts that were being ministered to Lissa's body was exciting him and he was unprepared for Lancos' attack. Darvos put a restraining hand out to tell Little Rat not yet, as he prepared a spell. Using two weapons, short sword in his left hand and scimitar in his right, he charged in towards the Gutt Man. Using the moment of surprise, Lancos swung his short sword, cleaving it into the Gutt Man's right knee. The Gutt Man was quick to react and the scimitar went high. The Gutt Man's new black dagger flicked up into a defensive position, but now it glowed with a blackish light. It seemed to shimmer with heat, both the Gutt Man and Lancos looked at it with surprise. A split second latter they both resumed the fight, but Gutt Man had a grin of superiority on his face despite his wounded knee. The Gutt Man's magically increased speed kept the two evenly match and the dual reach a stalemated pattern of defensive swipes and swings. The Gutt Man flashed his knife back and forth and dodged with a wild abandon feeling the vigor of his new powers. Lancos parried and tried to take advantage of the holes in the Gutt Man's defense, but they closed before he could make good the blows. Bast, Lancos' new friend, avoided feet and swiped a paw at the Gutt Man when it could, hissing anger the whole time. Lancos had the advantage in attacks even thought he couldn't match the Gutt Man's speed. And seeing as he already had given better than he got, he felt he could outlast the child-killer's speed and wildness, if he did things correctly. Darvos used the same tactics he had the last time someone stood over Lissa. Separate the man from the child, and then cripple him. Only this time he knew he would use deadly force. The first spell hit as expected, and the other wizard was shoved back almost at the same time he had completed his incantation. With an evil grin, he prepared a defense to Darvos' upcoming attack saying "You're too late, I've got what I want now". He ran his fingers in front of a series of vials full of blood. "Join me friend, and revel in immortality." Darvos eyed the vials trying to decide whether to blast the vials or the wizard in front of him. His eyes turned to Lissa lying on the table. She was pale but still breathing, the incision marks all over her body made up Darvos' mind, and the other wizard saw his decision in his eyes. Darvos flung a bolt of power straight for the chest, but he was ready. A small shield appeared right in the bolts path and it absorbed most of the deadly bolt's energy. Some of the energy spilled over, and flickered over the wizard's body though, and he grimaced in pain. "You'll have to do better than that my friend, unfortunately I do not have time to indulge your petty attempts". Picking up the rack of vials he smiled viciously at Darvos saying "Till we meet again" and flung a crackle bolt of blackness towards Darvos, striking him full in the chest. As Darvos crumpled to the ground by the doorway, the other wizard laugh aloud and disappeared. Little Rat ran to Lissa, and untied her. She staunched the blood flow with some cloth found nearby. Since the spell keeping Lissa unconscious no longer was being sustained by the other wizard, she was slowly coming round. Little Rat helped her down from the table. But that was about all she could do until Lissa was fully conscious. Little Rat looked towards the battle, and saw that her friends weren't doing as well as she hoped. Courage suddenly welled inside her, and she decided to act. She withdrew the knife they'd taken from the Gutt Man, and threw it at the Gutt Man. It stuck into his left leg, just above the knee. The Gutt Man flinched with in pain and felt what was close to panic, as he realized his helper had deserted him. That left him facing three opponents. Four, he corrected himself as Bast's claws cut into his right calf. But things look darkest before the dawn; this time, the dawn of an idea. He felt that he too could teleport out of the store. He broke off his attacking and ran across the room and concentrated on the effort. By the time Lancos reached the area, there was nothing left but thin air, and an unfollowable trail. Lancos scowled, but then turned his attention to the children. He found Darvos cradling some tender ribs over by Lissa. He was carefully tending to Lissa's wounds and trying to bring her to full consciousness. He was soon successful, and upon seeing Darvos Lissa hugged him with all her might. Darvos smiled broadly with joy. He hadn't felt so good in all of his life. Darvos returned the hug, and as soon as he was satisfied Lissa was well again, he asked Lancos "What do we do now?" in his peculiar accent. "We wait; we heal" Lancos spoke matter-of-factly. "We're all too tired and wet to get anywhere safely in that storm. We can spend the night here if we have to; it should be safe now". Lancos removed his drenched shirt, motioned for everyone to come out into the main room. He started to build a fire in the fireplace. Bast wasn't too far from Lancos the whole time. Darvos followed Lancos out with Lissa in his arm, Little Rat followed right behind. Darvos nodded agreement, his ability to control the magical energy was near gone. "Fine with me, it's probably best not to move Lissa after her head wound anyway." He looked at Lissa and saw that she sort of agreed, as she had fallen asleep -- this time a natural one -- in his arms. As the fire began to roar and they began to dry out themselves and their clothes, Lancos move over to Little Rat and said, "Let's leave these two alone. Besides, I want to speak with you." Little Rat followed him. Once they had their own privacy, she asked. "What izup?". "Mainly I wanted to thank you for helping us. And to give you a dagger, to replace the weapon you lost in the combat." "Why?" "Because you need it". When Little Rat didn't respond positively, Lancos decided to try another track, "and because you deserve it. For saving Lissa and facing that evil fellow." "hokay, if youse says it like dat". Little Rat took the offered dagger, and then headed next to Lissa, and prepared to sleep. `Favor swapping' Lancos remarked to himself. `I should have guessed. Still, she needs safety'. Then an idea hit him. He knew how to make her safe yet make her feel important. That would have to wait, however, until after the storm passed over. * * * * In another part of the city, BBD smiled. The storm had been very helpful to him, as he had convinced several people that all they needed to do to save their homes or businesses from destruction by the storm was turn them over to him, and he would protect them. Some were charmed, some were intimidated, others were just happy for any source of hope. And BBD didn't even lie, either -- he protected his investments well with magic, and it would take more than this squall to harm them. His revelry was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Velric. The mage's clothes had blood all over them. Velric began to speak, but BBD cut him off. "Don't bother. I can tell things weren't successful. What happened?" "Those friends of hers found the place and intervened" Velric said. "Myrnien did her part, why couldn't you do yours?" "I was drained from the ceremony... and outnumbered." "The ceremony... then I take it you were at least successful with that part of your mission?" "Yes!" Velric announced, glad to be getting on BBD's good side again. "I got a sample of her blood to be used for the immortality experiment, and as far as the Gutt Man..." As if in continuation of the sentence, the Gutt Man popped into the room. His old knife still sticking out of his his left leg, and other knife wounds criss-crossed his body. BBD smiled again. "Ah, my wonderful servant. Already I can feel you attuned to my will. That's the cost of that bracelet -- you see when you put it on of your own free will, you also lost that ability to choose to me." The Gutt Man wasn't sure how to respond. Of course, he _hadn't_ put it on himself, so he still had some free thought. But the voice was so compelling, he couldn't help but be enthralled by what was said. Besides, he instinctively knew this man could probably take away what had been given him. So for now, he would listen, and obey, but be ready for anything. -- Joe Carl Jr. "It ain't what a man don't know that makes him a jcarl@jabba.ess.harris.com fool, but what he does know that ain't so." -- Josh Billings MagicHutchHeader From: rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Kyar responds to Quaeros Message-ID: <1993Apr17.133205.6899@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 17 Apr 93 18:32:05 GMT References: <1993Apr16.174709.24600@Princeton.EDU> > Quaeros turned to face Alarond. "Alarond, I fear that this > being or demon was one of the evils in your dream. Perhaps the storm > itself was the other. The storm was obviously extremely magical, and, > although I don't know much about this, it seems logical that the fury of > a magical storm building could scramble messages sent from the other > side. Perhaps you saw the true face of this creature in your dream, or > perhaps it was a deliberate sending to frighten us away. I do not > know. I've had a slightly forboding feeling over the past few days, as > if something were watching me and waiting. I hope it's just nerves." Kyar sat up straighter. "I, too, have experienced this foreboding feeling. I had thought it to be the effects of the battle, and tried to dismiss it. But if you have felt it as well, Quaeros, then there must be something to it. What of the rest of you? Have you felt this sense of doom as well?" MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Status... Message-ID: <1993Apr17.171645.5028@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 17 Apr 93 17:16:45 -0400 [ADIMN] Here's to refresh eveyone's memory since we haven't posted recently. This will occur just before Quaeros joins the group after his meditations and continue to afterward. The storm's wake left much to be done on the decks of the Rhymand. Myriad leaks had sprung and the repairs took longs hours. Those able bodies left after the battle were pressed into service, including the adventurers still awake and moving. Almost half of the sailors had either been injured or killed and every hand available was needed. Ildamar had awakened a day after he fell unconscious after regaining his strength. Elanon had also slept the better part of a day and was now moving about the deck aiding in the repairs. Kyar was still unconscious in his cabin, the skin around his dislocated shoulder a vivid purple from the bruising and swelling. He looked like he'd be out a little while longer. Aleric was still sleeping, recovering from the battle and his struggle to survive the storm swept waves. Of Segoi there was little sign of improvement. Elanon refused to allow anyone to enter Segoi's cabin, so only he tended the gravely injured man and saw to his recovery. He periodically brought reports to the others keeping them informed to Segoi's condition. Aleric woke on the second day and groaned in pain. Someone had healed his burned arm and hand but all his muscles were stiff and cramped. He stood gingerly and pulled on his black pants and boots. Aleric began to stretch and limber up the aching muscles as best he could in the cramped room. A light tap on the door alerted him to someone's presence. The tap was immediately followed by Alarond pushing open the door and entering. "Ah, good. You are awake. How are you feeling?" he asked soliciously. Alarond crossed the chamber and sat on the bunk. He watched while Aleric continued to work out the cramps. "I wanted to thank you for rescuing me from the water," Aleric began. "I was beginning to despair of anyone noticing my starstone when you found me." Alarond preened at the words slightly before answering, "It was nothing. I must admit we were all a little worried when you were nowhere to be found on the ship. There were so many who were down from the battle it would have been difficult to find you if you hadn't kept up with the ship. I was fortunate to have noticed your light when I did." Alarond filled Aleric in on the events on the ship after his disappearance and the state of affairs at the present. He concluded by hinting Aleric's help could be used in repairs as well. "Well, toss me my shirt and let's go," Aleric replied. The next day, Kyar woke and climbed the ladder to the decks. He hailed Aleric and asked for the news. The two talked for some time before returning to the common room below decks. Aleric watched as Kyar struggled to climb down the ladder, offering his help. Once they gained the cabinway Aleric frowned slightly at Kyar. "You should see if someone can do something to fix that," he said, gesturing to Kyar's shoulder. "Has anyone popped that back in it's socket?" Aleric's eyes were a dark shade of blue in his concern for his friend. Kyar looked like the shoulder was causing him more pain than it should have been. Kyar shrugged with his good shoulder and nodded his head in the direction of the common room. Aleric followed him and they joined their companions at a large table in the center of the room. Plans were being discussed for when the ship reached the shore. The two warriors pulled out chairs and sat down to join the discussion. Quaeros entered the room a few minutes later and told of his experiences before the storm and his misgivings. Things were definitely not looking good despite the appearances. [ADMIN] And so we join our friends as the continue to discuss events and plans for the near future... (Do we have any yet? Like maybe a quest or goal?) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: asgds@aurora.alaska.edu Subject: [NKIT]>-[AU][Housestorming] Message-ID: <1993Apr17.144931.1@aurora.alaska.edu> Date: Sat, 17 Apr 1993 22:49:31 GMT Azariah looked about himself. The city had fared badly in the storm. He found himself walking along a great avenue. There was a feeling of hope in the energies of the people, the worst was over and now it was time to rebuild. Azariah stopped suddenly. The stones in front of him had changed, they were now metal. Looking around he felt himself pulled towards a building to his right. Dragon's Inn, that is the name of this place. There is much magic here, many possibilities. As the young man entered the pub there wasn't much notice. People had been entering and leaving all day. This is a nice salad... hey somethings up?! A Unicorn! Azariah hadn't seen a Unicorn in many where's or whens, so naturally he called out to it. Someone's talking to me in UNICORN! Sheryl wheeled around, then she saw the young man with the dark hair and the blue eyes. He was making horse-like noises that while most of the people around her were looking at him as if he were daft, too her it was a song of greeting and joy. She jumped over in front of him and began to speak to him in kind. A Unicorn but not a unicorn! This is certainly in interesting where and when! As the Greeting Song stopped he looked up from his kneeling position and found that he and the Unicorn had caused quite a stir. The companions she had been eating with had come over and were looking at him with a mixture of wonder and interest. "Greetings, I am Azariah." he said as he stood. MagicHutchHeader From: kjc@aramis.rutgers.edu (Kelly J. Cooper) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Jameson finally in the [storm] Keywords: Things are gonna change, so fast ... Message-ID: Date: 17 Apr 93 23:30:09 GMT "When you gonna make up your mind? When you gonna love you as much as I do?" -Tori Amos In the morning, Jameson rose with the sun and, after a light breakfast, made her way past the marketplace into the working district. The forges were already hot when she got to the smithy, and had been for some time. The journeyman, whose name was Kam, greeted her cheerfully and showed her where she could leave her things undisturbed. "Master Corder will be along shortly, ma'am. He's off getting some of the materials you told 'im about yest-tiday." Still cheerful, he showed her around the shop, naming tools in his almost imperceptible accent, both to let her see where and how they kept things and to test her knowledge of the craft. Jameson agreeably startled him a few times and when Corder returned, he found her and Kam on excellent terms. Jameson had in Corder an excellent student, with a quick brain. Anything he missed, Kam seemed to pick up and Jameson could see why they worked well together. Half the day passed by without any of them noticing the passage of time until their stomachs told them, loudly. They stopped for a simple meal, made for them by Corder's wife, and while they ate, Corder lamented that Jameson had never had become a full-scale smith. "'Tis a waste. You're an artist, girl. I would pay money for the things that could come from your forge. I know some able women, all right, but ne'er a smithy of 'em. With the right training, you coulda be better than more'n half the men I've knowed, even with these arms. You'd finesse what you couldn't pound." He poked roughly at her right bicep and turned her forearm over to press on the muscles there, forcing her hand to close. His skin was dark and hard, and half resembled leather. He had the requisite oversized arm, but for him it was his left and Jameson suddenly realized that much of the smithy had been modified to handle that. It interested her, but Corder deflected her questions smoothly. Shaking his head, he muttered "Too late, too late," presumably talking about her. Presumably. She smiled at Kam who shrugged and they returned to the forge. Not too much later one of Corder's sons came barrelling into the smithy, yelling, "Da! Da! Come quick! It's a storm an' the guards' declared a mergency!" Corder, Jameson and Kam stepped out of the dim smithy blinking like owls. Jameson realized that she'd been hearing a quiet murmur of voices for some time -- the streets were abuzz with talk of the storm as people scurried about taking care of last-minute business, buying food and boarding up windows. The three of them waded through the crowds into the wide lane in front of the smithy and looked up where various people were pointing. Dark, angry clouds hung low on the horizon and Jameson could hear klaxons sounding in the distance. Criers were walking the streets shouting for the able-bodied to sandbag the sea walls. After standing quietly for a few moments, listening to the dissonance and murmuring fear, Corder nodded curtly and moved purposefully back to the smithy. Jameson and Kam followed. None of them spoke. Jameson nailed boards to the small windows of the smithy while Corder shut down the forge and Kam secured the chimneys. They locked up the tools, to keep them out of the hands of looters and moved on to work on Corder's house. The house was a solid affair. They bolted the heavy shutters and secured the few fragile items in the house. A number of Corder's nephews and young cousins cycled through the house, begging on behalf of their parents for Corder's help. Leaving his wife and children to to get themselves set in the basement, Corder went out and helped gather some of his older relatives to weather the storm in his basement. Jameson and Kam followed him, tools in hand, and secured the various houses as best they could. Few were as well-built as Corder's own. By the time the storm was strong enough to whip the board from their hands before they could nail it across a window, both Jameson and Kam were beyond exhausted. They were ordered into the basement by Corder, to maintain peace there and rest themselves. Corder himself disappeared back into the storm while his wife sat with their youngest in her lap. She did not watch him leave. About fifteen of them sat quietly in the basement, listening to the house above them creak quietly as the wind screamed and furiously slammed rain and hail against everything exposed. In the flickering light of the hurricane lamps, Jameson looked around, noting Kam's pale and drawn face, Danna Corder's implacable features, and the tired and scared expressions of her four children. Then she quietly scrutinized the various older relatives, mostly aunts and uncles to the Corder parents. They seemed weary, beyond complaining. In answer to her question, Kam quietly told her that Master Corder's parents had died in a slavers' raid years ago while Danna's father had passed away in his sleep two years back. A loud banging on the cellar door made them all jump. The banging paused, then began again, six rhythmic thumps, pause, six thumps, pause. Kam had leapt to his feet when it started, and went quickly to the door once he recognized the pattern and, with Jameson's help, heaved the bars up. The wind flung the door open violently and the continuous lightning flashes both half-blinded them and backlighted a hulking outline. The shadow resolved itself to a wet and bleeding Corder, carrying the limp form of an old woman. Danna made a small noise as Corder stepped numbly into the basement. Stumbling down the steps behind him were suddenly visible a young woman, hanging onto Corder's belt and being half supported by a man behind her. He, in turn, was carefully holding something that had been secured to his chest. Once they were inside, Kam and Jameson threw their weight into closing the door and barely succeeded and slamming the bars home. Kam muttered "Danna's mum," and staggered across the room to where Corder and the old woman were lying upon blankets and being tended by Danna. Jameson began to shuffle forward only to catch the anonymous young woman as she collapsed. Wincing as she swung the woman up into her arms, Jameson continued to step very carefully toward the others. Kam looked up and his eyes widened. He grabbed more blankets from the pile they had brought downstairs and helped Jameson put the girl down. Kam began chaffing the girl's arms to bring back circulation and Jameson turned to the man. He stood, eyes glazed, gently rocking the bundle in his arms. Jameson pushed him through the older people, away from the door, over toward the makeshift triage blankets. At a sharp word from Danna, the eldest child ran to the furnace and began feeding it more wood and stoking it up. Jameson sat the man down on a bench and began gently unwrapping him. He looked at her sightlessly, and barely resisted. As she suspected, Jameson found a baby, less than a year old, cold and blue in the man's arms. The man hummed tuneless lullabies, eyes rolling and flickering. Kam eased him down beside the woman and stripped them both of some of their wet clothes, then wrapped them in blankets. Absently, Jameson noted Corder had a scalp wound and dozens of cuts all over his body. Danna's mother's face was badly bruised and her hands were swollen. Jameson held the still form of the child in her arms, then set it down gently on one of the benches. She checked the child over, looking for a pulse and finding nothing. Gently, she lifted it up again, cradled it on her forearm, and began pushing on its chest in a steady rhythm. Every so often she blew softly into its mouth. The room was still as each person worked or prayed quietly. The only noises were ragged breathing and an angry storm. In the midst of the deafening stillness, there was a convulsive gasp and the weak cry of an unhappy baby. One of the elders made a holy sign and muttered, "witch." The rest were silent. At the cry the young couple both sat up, confused and dazed, unsteady because of the blankets wrapped around them. Kam quieted them and settled them back down, while throwing a look of wonder over his shoulder at Jameson. She herself didn't notice. She was quietly murmuring to the child in her arms as she rocked and bobbed and walked around, smiling at someone Kam couldn't see. --------------------------------------------------------------------- Kelly J. Cooper \ *Nigh* invulnerable ... Tragically Hip Waif \ Comments appreciated. ...individual at large... \ kjc@cs.rutgers.edu --------------------------------------------------------------------- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [AU] [~storm] [~MG] A Nice Day for a Walk Message-ID: <1993Apr17.195327.25938@data-io.com> Date: Sat, 17 Apr 1993 19:53:27 GMT [ADMIN - This is rather long, but of a piece... Thanks to Hutch for letting me use 'Raelf and for his feedback. Thanks to Sheryl and Andrea for their part and their writing for the last part of this. And the reason for the ~'s is cause those lines are just a little bit peripheral to this...] ------- The tallish, almost boy-slender figure of a woman with dried-blood red hair walked out of the Weaver's Guild with a look of wonder on her face. She walked funny. Hesitating at odd points in each step, rolling her weight along the entire length of her left leg, then consciously all along the foot in it's worn travelling boot. A blonde man with eyes that flickered all the colors there are and a few that there aren't watched her quietly. He smiled at her explorations as he walked with grace that echoed that of a hunting cat's. As they exited the Guild he glanced around, getting his bearings and then said, "Hey, let's go to the Dragon's for lunch - I'm supposed to meet Raye there in a few minutes anyway." Kardia nodded, only half hearing. She felt muscles she hadn't known she'd had unbunch and stretch for the first time in almost two months. Ever since the slaver had hacked off the front half of her left foot after an attempted escape, she'd felt crippled. While it wasn't as bad as those who had lost an entire limb and she'd at least been able to walk, she'd lost the freedom of walking without thinking. Lost the grace of movement that had been a little like breathing. So now she breathed and walked. At first, she was so occupied with the sheer sensation of walking that she wasn't watching where she was going, trusting 'Raelf's presense for guidance. When she looked up she found that they'd gone east of the south east corner of Merchants' Hill, into a far less wealthy portion of the city. The storm had flattened a lot of the wooden structures that were there. There were workmen out like a swarm of ants, cheerfully calling out to each other, pulling broken things even further apart to put on the mounting pile of debris in the streets, and banging away at frames that were gradually getting erected into houses and rooms. It looked as if it were going to be a far nicer place than it had been, Kardia thought as she saw broken, grafitti'ed and hole filled walls being replaced with new walls. She snapped back into awareness of her body as she caught herself in the old familiar rhythm of her old limp. She scowled to herself and concentrated on walking with slightly longer strides. Then she realized how fast she was going and started to slow, but, out of the corner of her eye, she saw that 'Raelf was keeping easy pace with her. And grinning at her. She rolled her eyes heavenward and kept up her stride; but with a little more attention to her surroundings. "'Ware!" a voice sung out, and she stopped abruptly as a bundle of broken shakes dropped from the rooftop in front of her. She grinned at the ease of the stop and the consequent start. The alleys were getting more crowded, and Kardia was having to look where she was going as she worked her way around men carrying loads of lumber, shakes, roofing paper, cans of tar, bags of nails, and wall board. She found herself using her new found balance to move more quickly and easily even through the center of the crowd instead of hanging around along the edges of the walkways. The quickness she was moving with delighted her. She found herself smiling at people, looking a few in the eye, and realizing just how long it had been since she'd done that. She soon found out why it was getting more crowded as the small street spilled out onto a main causeway. Most of the traffic on the main causeway turned onto this side of the city. It seemed that here was where most of the repairs were needed and headed. There were statues that lined the main causeway on both sides. The rain had washed most of them clean and white, though many of them were broken or defaced. Some were missing heads, hands, and the bodies were cracked or chipped. A flowing cape ended in a stub of broken stone. She went on tip toe, just because she could, and traced the jawline of a stone horse with no ears. Someone bumped into her, and she felt the tug at her bag. She hesitated the moment it took for her to remember what she had, and her leg swung out in a roundhouse kick that landed her shin in what should have been the softness of the thief's belly. Kardia hit more bone than she was expecting. Coins rang as they hit the cobblestones. "Ooof!" said the thief; but the teenage girl didn't drop or fold over Kardia's shin. Instead, the thief simply grimaced and started to run. Kardia took two quick leaps and grabbed the back of the thief's collar. For a moment, Kardia was amazed that she's managed to catch the girl. Then she caught a shining blur of movement. She dropped her hold on the girl and jumped back. It was only when she watched the little thief vanish into the crowd that Kardia consciously realized the blur had been a knife. She then noticed 'Raelf looking at her with another look after the girl. "It's O.K." Kardia said, fingering the neat slit in the bottom of her money bag. She went back to him and knelt easily to pick up the coins that had dropped. She laughed breathlessly, as the adrenaline flooded in. "Actually more than O.K. She didn't get anything more than a couple copper and silver off me. Most of my money's safe and deep in my stuff at Mrs. Cludne's." Kardia stood and glanced into the crowd, remembering the feel of bone, "She could probably use it more than I could... and compared to what she gave me back..." She grinned and did a single front kick with her weight on her left leg. The toes of her right foot were about level with her shoulders. "Yowch." Kardia grimaced at tendons popping with the movement and then laughed, "Looks like I'm going to have no more excuses about not being in shape..." 'Raelf laughed. "Not bad for a gimpy lady. Hey, I'm getting a place set up to practice, since Serene needs some work after having her kidling ... you interested?" "Practice? You mean, martial arts?" Kardia asked with wide eyes. "Yeah, I'm second Dan aikido and rated competent-to-teach in Stone Monkey and Drunk Monkey styles, and I studied Jeet Kune Do in Hong Kong for a while, but never examined for a rating. Oh, and I do know how to use sword and staff, at least forty different styles." "Goodness." she said, "I've always wanted to learn aikido." Then she thought for a few steps, "Why?" "Camoflage, mostly, and magic isn't always appropriate or even possible. And sometimes it comes with the body. Besides, it's fun." At the last she grinned and said, "Yeah... That would be fun." ------- They reached the Dragon's Inn without futher incident and as she walked in the door, Andrea waved at 'Raelf and called out "Hey, Kardia, over here!" 'Raelf kept going to his table by the fireplace. Oh, right. lunch, thought Kardia and realized she could probably get measurements and such done in time to join them again during the meal. Kardia knew she was stretching the still unfamiliar feelings in her newfound foot as she walked over, but only smiled as she reached Andrea. "Nice day for a walk." she said trying not to smile too hard. Andrea whistled for Sheryl and the little 'corn got up, nickered and trotted over to Kardia. Kardia gently ran her fingers over the silky softness of the little unicorn's neck. "Braids?" Kardia asked as she ran a finger down the smooth, neat intertwining of Sheryl's mane. "A little girl down at the Temple of Aditi did it," Andrea said, "I think it's rather cute, don't you?" Sheryl snoted in disgust, causing both Kardia and Andrea to laugh out loud. "So, Andrea, have you and Sheryl decided just what you wish to do about the curse?" Kardia asked. Andrea nodded. "We would like you to dispel the curse, as long as doing so would not interfere with Sheryl's current shape-identity." Kardia nodded, thinking hard. "Is there somewhere we can talk in private and I can get a full set of measurements?" Andrea nodded. "Our room." "O.K., good. I need to discuss this operation with you." Kardia swung her legs back around and got up to follow Andrea and Sheryl to their room. When they reached the little room, Kardia asked, "Is it O.K. for her to stand on the bed? It'd be easier for me to reach..." As Kardia spoke, Sheryl bounded onto the bed. Kardia chuckled and said, "This might tickle a little, but I gotta be accurate on these." She pulled a fountain pen, a piece of parchment, and a piece of string with a number of colored knots on it. She sketched a stick figure of the 'corn on it, with a rectangle for the body, and four legs, the neck and head. "All right, what's up?" Andrea asked, as she craned her neck to see what Kardia was drawing. Kardia then took the string and wrapped it around Sheryl's barrel, read it and wrote a number on the figure with a circled arrow around the stick figure's barrel. Another back just before the rear legs, and a different number and another circled arrow at the back of the figure. Then from the middle of Sheryl's chest to juet below her tail. Then down a front leg, down a back leg, and both of those measurements were split at the knees. In front a measurement from the shoulder to where the leg joined her body. In the back from the top of her rear hip to where her rear leg joined. Then around the top and bottom of each leg. Around the neck just above where it joined with the body, then up near Sheryl's jaw. Then from the top of Sheryl's head to her withers and in front from the crook of her throat to the center of her chest. Then from the center of her chest to the point just between her front legs. And on and on and on... it seemed an innumerable number of measurements that seemed to cover every single inch of the little 'corn. A few of the measurements looked as if she were taking them from the air around the 'corn. By the end of it Kardia had half a dozen different strings on the bed and two other drawings with more scribbles on them. They were details of Sheryl's head, a hoof, one front leg and one back leg as well as one which looked like an abstract line drawing of a pattern web. As she measured and wrote, Kardia said, "Sorry 'bout this, I know that 'Raelf has an easier and quicker way to do this, but I'm not exactly sure how his measurements convert, so I thought I'd be absolutely sure and do it my way so I know exactly what's going on. "What I'm going to attempt to do is make Sheryl a cover out of the same stuff as the scarf, but it's going to only cover the parts of her that are affected by the curse. It's a fairly regular pattern," Kardia squinted at lines only she could see, "but seems to be intertwined with all of her senses as well as her bodily functions, so it's going to have to cover all of her. Each thread, though, is going to be based on the pattern of the curse. The cover is going to have to fit her self-image of herself, so it emphasizes what she physically is. " Kardia carefully picked up a hoof and measured it's diameter, thickness and where and how it split. Sheryl nickered almost like a giggle when Kardia touched the ticklish frog of her foot and when the 'corn pulled back at the ticklishness, Kardia let go and grinned at her. "'Raelf mentioned that the curse was also messing with Sheryl's magical expression of her unicorn capabilities. And, right here..." Kardia ran a light finger around the base of Sheryl's horn, "there's a concentration of both the curse and Sheryl's magic, and that's going to be the really tricky part. What I'm going to do is make the bulk of the cover with the measurements that I get today. Then I'm going to come over and make the section that concentrates right here with Sheryl. One thing you two have got to know is that while I'm working on it, I am not going to be speaking to anyone, and that's going to be easier if I'm just closeted with Sheryl." "What do you mean, not speaking to anyone?" asked Andrea. Kardia grinned, "I don't know if it's necessary, but it's what I did when I broke my brothers' curse. While I'm actively working on the weaving or knitting of the cover, I just don't speak to anyone. It might be good if you could run interference for me. I can write, and I do bring around a notepad when I am doing that; but it's easier if folks know that I can't speak while doing the curse breaking. It's going to be at least three days of work, one of them with Sheryl." She finished with the last of her measurements and the whole paper was covered with arrows and lines and numbers. "If you like, we could start tomorrow. I have a few things I want to finish up, today, before I go into silence." Kardia started to pack up her things. Andrea looked at the detailed drawings and frowned, "All right. Since you haven't brought it up yet, how much is this going to cost?" Kardia blinked. "Cost? Hmmm... I'd appreciate it if you could do my room and board and run interference while I'm working on her. That might be a rather boring three days for you. The cost of the materials is going to run about four gold, as it takes some time and work to process the stuff, but as small as she is, I'm not going to need more than four ounces of fiber and that's my running rate. Other than that..." Kardia shrugged, "I guess it's up to you what you feel like paying." Andrea burst out laughing. Kardia stopped packing to look at Andrea, and Sheryl turned her head to look at her. "I spent years and years searching, and amassing thousands of gold coins to pay off whatever great wizard would agree to lift the curse for me," she explained when she had calmed down enough to speak again. "And now, when I finally find someone who will lift the curse, what price does she ask? Four gold pieces, and a little of my time." She laughed some more. Kardia grinned at the laughter, "Well," she said, "I told you I wasn't a wizard. I'm just a spinster, charging for the work I do. So am I to take it the four gold coins are not a problem?" "Hell no," Andrea said. "I just spent five thousand gold pieces on a huge old house, four gold pieces is POCKET CHANGE for me. Right now, anyway." Kardia looked up. "A house?" Andrea nodded. "Yes, a house. Great big thing, 150,000 square feet or so the deed said." Kardia whistled, "150,000 square feet? Why, that's a mansion!" Andrea nodded. "It certainly is. And on top of Merchant's Hill, too. Can you see the irony?" "Why so inexpensive?" Kardia asked. "Well, it has a few problems that need debugging..." Kardia nearly dropped her fountain pen. "Debugging?" Andrea nodded. "It's a magic term--some new spells have problems in them, called bugs, and they have to be rewritten to get rid of the bugs. What, did I say something wrong?" Kardia shook her head. "No..." she laughed softly, "It's just that they used the same term for a similar meaning where I come from, and I was suprised to hear it here. Tell me, what 'bugs' does this house have?" Andrea explained briefly about the manse's past history as Kardia put away the string and paper. "and the clerk said it had killed over twenty adventurers already," she finished. "Not that I believe him, of course. Anyway, I'm trying to get a party together, a Housestorming party, to go in, disarm the traps, and make it a livable place again. I hope we can start in a week or so." Kardia nodded. "So what are you going to do after that?" she asked. "150,000 square feet is a mighty big house..." Andrea shrugged. "You know, I hadn't thought of that. I suppose I could offer rooms to all my friends...Hey!" Andrea looked up. "That could be how I could repay you beyond the terms you've asked. How would you like free room and board at my house, for as long as you want to stay?" Kardia considered. Staying with a friend would be better than rooming at Mrs. Cludne's...and what better way to avoid being burglarized than living with a thief? "All right. That sounds like a good deal." "Shake on it?" Andrea extended her hand. Kardia started to reach out, then realized she was still holding the pen. She put into her bag and then shook hands with Andrea, sealing the deal and their friendship. As Kardia tucked her drawing bag in her pouch she said, "So, how long have you been studying magic?" Andrea started. "Huh?" "You seem to know some things about magic," Kardia said. "Your use of the term 'debugging,' for example." And she pointed to the dresser beside the bed where Andrea's knapsack was lying half-open. "And I don't mean to pry, but I couldn't help but notice that old book in there. It looks like some sort of magical text." Andrea sighed. "Oh, I guess for ten years, off and on. I guess I thought that if I learned more about magic, it might help me in my search for Sheryl's cure." "Did it?" Kardia asked. Andrea shook her head. "I never really got very far in it," she said. "In ten years, all I've really learned are a couple of cantrips." Actually she was being a bit conservative; she actually knew two or three small but highly-useful spells. "I can cast them okay when I remember to memorize them. But I never really bothered to study full-time--I don't want to become dependant on magic rather than on my own skills." Kardia nodded. "Wise of you." They stepped out, walked back down to the main taproom. Kardia's step was still pronouncedly strange, almost as if she hadn't used her left leg properly in a long time. Andrea sat down at her table and ordered an ale. As she sipped from it, Kardia went to the bulletin board, looked at her notice for a moment, then pulled it down with an odd look on her face. "My," she said softly and then looked at Andrea. "Could I also impose upon you to share some of your house's room with another person? I think this is going to be a very interesting person..." She showed Andrea the butterfly in the colors of the rainbow and the word Jameson written upon it. "Would that be all right?" Andrea examined the notice. She wasn't sure what "Toad the Wet Sprocket" meant, but that didn't draw her attention. What did was the rainbow-colored ink that this Jameson person had used, and the smooth, even, feminine handwriting in which she'd signed her name. "Hmm. I'd be inclined to say yes, but on one condition, I think. I don't want any of my guests owing me favors, so I think that I'll agree if this person is willing to help somehow with the housestorming. Whoever she is, she's certain to have some kind of skills that could be of use, whether it's a sharp mind or a sharp sword. Given the form of this person's handwriting, I'd say it's more inclined to be the former." "You can tell this?" Kardia asked. "I've read some on handwriting analysis," Andrea said. At Kardia's raised eyebrow, she added, "It's useful for forgery and also for reading scrawled spell formulas in old musty tomes." Kardia grinned. "Of course." She looked over toward the table by the fire, where 'Raelf and ar'Elya were sitting, along with someone else. "I'm going to go eat with 'Raelf," Kardia said. "Join us?" Andrea shook her head. "No, we've already eaten. I think I'll go back to my room and study some more, maybe plan for later. I'll see you around." Kardia simply nodded. Then she walked over to 'Raelf's table as Andrea took her tankard of ale and went back to her room. -- Liralen Li | "... and how you feel can make it real aka Phyllis Rostykus | Real as anything you've seen... " li@Data-IO.com | Peter Gabriel _US_ MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [oneshot Sandra] Have Mercy Message-ID: <1993Apr17.232416.773@data-io.com> Date: Sat, 17 Apr 1993 23:24:16 GMT "When I was just seventeen I ran away from home To be with all the pretty people To be on my own Bright lights and trains and bedsit stains And pavements paved with gold And I believed in everything that everybody told me Have mercy Have mercy on me." - "Legend in My Living Room" on _Diva_ * * * Fuck this, thought Sandra savagely as she flew through the air. She relaxed and curled her body forward just before she hit the wall. She didn't even try to keep back the cry of pain when she hit. Instead, she shook the hilt of her knife into her hand. Her forearm hid the blade from the pig. She heard him laughing as he moved in. She didn't look up until she saw the rags bound to his feet with rawhide thongs. When she did, she threw all her weight forward, launching herself at her focus. She didn't focus on his face. She focused on his chin. She felt something crack when her fist hit the bearded chin, but with all the weight of her body behind it, his chin lifted enough. Her hand moved a precise fraction of a inch and the pig's throat went red. Blood hit her face. The man screamed, gurgled and tackled her with his great weight. Her head hit the cobblestones and the world went dark. * * * Sandra woke screaming from a dream about being buried alive. She couldn't move her arms even after she woke. She felt the coins still clutched in her right hand. The hilt of her knife in her left. Well, most of her left. She couldn't feel two of the fingers. Broken, probably, from the strike to the chin. The weight of the body was still on her. Seemed that the Watch was too busy with other things in the city to have gotten to her, yet. It was dark out. And she was alive, still. She wriggled out from under the dead and closed the pig's eyes with two fingers, half jealous of his stillness, of the peace that was no more pain. Her gut still ached from where the mark had nailed her with a shin. Her left breast felt like it was burning from where the pig had hit her. She was sticky with blood and her head felt a little like she was floating. She opened her hand, the two silvers shone and the three coppers glowed. The coinage and Sandra's smallness had prompted the attack. It was barely enough to feed her for a week. It had only gotten worse since the storm. Pickings were very slim in Low Town; and the small fish were getting eaten. Sandra knelt there, numb, shaking, and hurting. She started crying, great, big, gulping sobs that she tried to choke down for fear of sound. Then she gave up as her body tried to throw up; but there was nothing in her stomach to throw up. Eventually, her body slowed its violent reaction. Her mouth tasted of acid and metal from the bile and stale fear. She shook as she stood, but she stood. That was a victory of sorts. She took long, slow, deep breaths, and felt better for it. Even in her fuzzy state she realized that she wasn't going to last the night if she stayed out on the streets. Part of her didn't want to care. The rest of her kept her to the shadows as she walked and dictated a direction. That part of her kept her hidden as the Watch went by on their rounds. A different part laughed bitterly at the Plaza of Glittering Steel. Out in the country Sandra had heard of pavements of silver. The cruel hardness of the steel echoed her laughter sharply. The other part ignored the laughter and urged her across the bridge over the Ceru, and to not look at the deep, dark depths of its waters as they rushed out to the Great Blue. The beauty of the fountains got past even her befuddled bitterness. The walk was deserted this late at night, but even so, she picked a fountain well hidden by the trees that grew above and around it. The water in the filtered moonlight sparkled cleaner and clearer than she'd ever seen it before. She touched the water and it flowed dark beneath her touch. Sandra remembered the blood and her body retched, once. When she wiped her mouth with her hand, there was darkness on that as well. Then she stepped into the fountain, unmindful of her clothing. Under the moonlight a stain spread from her through the clarity of the marble fountain. By the time she realized it, it was too late to do anything about it. The coldness of the water and several long drinks to convince her empty belly that it wasn't empty anymore cleared her head a little. She scrubbed her hair, her face, the worst of the blood out of the clothes, and then her hands, careful of the now swelling hand and fingers. She climbed out and was relieved to see that the stained water in the fountain drained steadily away as more clear water flowed in. As she watched, she turned over an option in her mind that she had never really liked to even think about before. She tried to stretch out her left hand and winced. The bump on the back of her head was a lump almost as big as an egg. There was a small stain on her hand when she was finished exploring the bump. For all she knew, there might be something worse than a bruise to the fire in her chest and gut. They would feed her, fix her up, give her safety as long as she was there. She'd have to put up with their bullshit about getting a job. No woman could get a job that paid as much as thieving (used to pay... part of her said) in this city other than by selling her body. And that wasn't something she'd do as long as she was alive. She'd have to put up with the screamingly boring sewing and spinning, but with her hands scrapped like they were, she might not have to do that. She stood, dripping water, as she thought over the path to the Women's Hostel and a sudden dizzy spell had her kneeling on the ground before she even knew what hit her. When it ended she knew her eyes were leaking slow tears. She'd never make it past the ramesh slavers in this state. It'd be better to die than to get caught by them. Unbidden, the smooth darkness of the Ceru came to her mind. She wiped the tears from her eyes and walked back toward the bridge. This time in the middle of the Arcade of Fountains. A Watch man walked by and she just smiled and nodded at him. He looked at her, but kept going. Sandra laughed softly and walked onto the huge expanse of bridge. She'd never seen its beauty before. Not like this. The river moved quickly far, far below her. The false dawn showed her the ripples and streams under the surface of the broad, fast moving current. She carefully climbed up onto the railing, wincing a little at the pain in her gut. She shivered as a breeze blew through her soaked clothing. She grinned at the realization and the thought that now she wouldn't have to worry about catching cold. For a moment, she was simply poised there. A cramp in her gut grabbed her and she knelt, fiercely willing it away. She didn't want it to win. As she knelt there, she carefully stacked the two silvers and three coppers on the bridge railing beside her. Someone else could use them, she thought. I won't need them anymore. When the pain finally loosened its claws on her, she stood, arms at her sides. Sandra, remembering diving lessons she'd once had in a pond on the farm, carefully bent her knees, and then leaped into the air, her arms coming forward. So this is what flying is like... ... and the darkness rushed up to engulf her. ----------- [ADMIN: I hate it when bit players grab my mind. Anyway, this simply *had* to be written. It is standalone. If anyone wants to save this little thief even after this, go for it. Or just let her die in peace. Please don't add Sandra to the directory. I'm not all that sure I want to get into this kinda mindset very often. -li] -- Liralen Li | "Dying is easy, it's living that scares me to death." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Cold" li@Data-IO.com | on _Diva_ by Annie Lennox MagicHutchHeader From: albert@bcm.tmc.edu (Rick Jones) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [GATM] [storm] Krupp [Low City] Trying to Reason in Hurricane Season Date: 18 Apr 1993 03:57:32 GMT Message-ID: <1qqjjc$mck@gazette.bcm.tmc.edu> [ADMIN: This segment starts before the STORM makes landfall. I'm running behind, unfortunately.] Well, as I made my way across Low City, the storm was getting worse. The Guardsmen were running around under the orders of the Sea Watch placing bags of sand, and depositing magically dohickeys in crucial areas. Fortunately, the rain went through me, and the rapidly rising winds didn't bowl me over. I reached the Twinfish warehouse just when the storm was really getting nasty. The evening sky was black as midnight in a coal mine, and the rain was coming down in sheets. I started wandering around the building, trying to decide the best way to take the joint. Then, I smelled something. Or at least, it seemed like a smell, but one I didn't recall smelling before. Whatever it was, it was making me hungry. I started sniffing deeply, and tried to find the source of the odor. I started towards a pile of garbage, that seemed to be producing the smell, when the garbage sneezed. "Hey, who's in there," I asked. "Zip," answered the garbage. I looked closer, and saw a snuffling little kid in the garbage. He stank, but overlaying the stink of garbage was a pleasant smell. I walked closer, and put on my best friendly face. "Zip, why are you playing in the garbage?" "S'warm." Aw, sheeze. He's gonna catch the icky-awfuls there. "My name's Krupp, Zip. Would like to go to a warm place? A clean place." The kid got up and started to shiver. "Ten copper, same as Joy Street," he said defiantly. I realized what the smell was. Despair. And my 'body' was eating it up. I wished I could throw up. "No, no, no. This's straight up. No Cuddleboy. No thatch." "Wut den?" "I'll give you a silver, if you take a jekt to Res-Verita at the West Side Hostel, and wait for me there." The kid's eyes lit up. "Silver? Not shiv?" "Not shiv. It's bigbig." I knew the Low City kidspeak. Nobody pays attention to 'em, but they see everything that goes on. "Where's the Wet Side Hostile?" asked Zip. Sigh, for all her work, the WSH still needed better advertisiing. I gave the kid the arrow and directions and told him to scoot. The Sisters would keep the kid dry and clean him up at least. I just had to remember to scrounge a silver before picking up the kid. Since I no longer had to worry about the arrow blocking me from going through the wall, I simply walked in. It was pretty dark in there, but whatever my eyes were made out of seemed to be handling it it okay. There were a couple of heavies wandering around, looking for trouble. Fortunately, there weren't looking for ghosts, and so they didn't see one. The uglier of the two (and it was a close call), leaned back against a rack of crates, and lit up a cigar. "Balefires, Mick, why we gotta guard tonite? Listen to that storm. Nobody but nobody is going to be out." The walls creaked, and the wind whipping through the alleyways started a wailing cry. Mick yanked out the cigar and stomped on it. "Goob, we're here cuz we're paid to be here." "That was a good cigar," complained Goob. Mick threw up his hands in disgust. "You got someplace better to be?" "Spittin' Cobra's nice. One of the wenches digs me." Mick laughed, "you and everyone else. Look, I'm going downstairs for some caff. Want some?" "Nah." Mick picked up a crossbow and started walking farther into the warehouse, between crates and racks and other piles of stuff. I glanced at some of the labels, nothing too interesting, but I made a note of 'em, just in case. A crash of thunder rattled the building, and a small trickle of rain started dripping down from the roof onto Mick. "Damn rain," he cursed. He reached a large crate near the center of the building and pulled up the side. Inside was a stairwell down. Damn if this ghost business made some things easier. The stairwell went down into a basement. Mick busied himself with a pot of caff, and poured himself a cup. Looking both ways, he pulled out a cigar of his own, and started puffing on it. I smirked at him, and decided to explore further on down the passageway. First room was empty, except for some locked chests. I poked my head inside. Full of silvers, plus a few gold. Nothing that interested me, especially since I couldn't take 'em through the chest wall. Another echo of thunder reverberated through the cave. That one was louder. The storm was getting worse. Good. The next door had a sliver of light poking out from the bottom of the doorway. I poked my head through, and there he was. Numbers was hunched over a huge ledger. Sitting next to him was a small bottle with a tiny figure in it. Numbers adjusted his glasses and scratched his huge nose. My uncle Dunkan said once that all gnomes' height was squished out into their noses. I agree with him. Anyway, Numbers mumbled. "two thousand five hundred forty six, marked up twelve percent." The figure in the bottle glowed, and a high pitched voice squeeked out. "Two thousand, eight hundred fifty one point five two." Numbers kept feeding the critter bookkeeping stuff, and it spat back numbers. The critter was obviously bored. I decided to take a closer peek. I walked all the way through the door. I sat down on a pile of books and watched him work. Boring. So, I had the guy who bought the arrow that killed me. So what did I do now? I stood up, and walked around the small desk, to read over his shoulder. "Give me a sum of the following figures," started Numbers. I looked down over his shoulder. The critter, which I saw was an imp of some kind, looked up at me and screamed in panic. Numbers started and fell backwards on his chair, knocking papers everywhere. He sat up on the floor and looked around wildly. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary (just your average invisible ghost), he looked irately at the bottled demon and said, "Lotus, you little wanker. What the grot was that for?" It sputtered. "The guy, right there." It pointed it's tiny finger at me. I smirked and waved back at it. "The hobbit." I heard a crash of thunder from upstairs. It was getting noisy up there. Numbers looked straight at me. Didn't see anything. I mentally tossed a coin. Heads. I picked up a piece of paper and started waving it around. Numbers' eyes bugged out of his head. I started thinking visible thoughts, and faded into view. "Hiya, Numbers. I think you dropped this." Numbers started scrabbling backwards on the floor in a crabwalk. I walked towards him slowly. "You... you..., you're," said Numbers. "Alive," I lied. "And with magic using friends. I didn't figure that the thing in the jar could see me." I gestured at his chair. "And don't try to call for the guards. The door's spelled to block your screams." I concentrated on scaring him. He started to smell of fear, and sat down. Good. This dead stuff was good for something. I hopped up on his desk and sat down on the edge, facing him. The imp was looking at me funny. Damn, I didn't want the little booger to rat on me anymore. "So," I continued, "who tried to snuff me, Numbers. And no lies, pall. I'll know." "Look. Krupp, it was just business. Creft said you were going to blow his dockside lines to the Keepers. Nothing personal." I frowned, and he blanched a little. "I take people shooting at me very personally." I looked around nonchalantly. "So, who was the archer?" Numbers laughed self-consciously. "It doesn't matter, Krupp." "Why not?" Numbers jiggled a pencil across his fingers. "Well, it's like this, Krupp. You were causing Creft problems, right?" "Right, right. Get on with it." I was getting impatient. I thought about using the whammy on him some more, but held off. Didn't want him faint away. Besides, I didn't like it. "Creft saw your were getting close to his smuggling ring, see? But he didn't want it traceable to him." "Why the then? I knew about the connection." Numbers made a feeble attempt at smiling. "But not many others did. Besides, they'd figure the Demon Spiders did it. And who'd miss a little gumshoe?" "Watch the 'little' crack, shorty. You're not so big yourself." I hopped off the desk, and straightened some papers. "So, enough of the stall. Who did it?" "It was-" Numbers stopped, and looked down at his chest, which had just grown a crossbow bolt. I whirled to see Mick, holding a two shot crossbow and smiling a grin of pure malice. He looked at me in shock. "Krupp?" he muttered. "But that's impossible." He pointed the crossbow at me, and fired. -- Rick Jones albert@bcm.tmc.edu Barney is the Lizard King, Systems Support Center he can do anything. Voice: 713-798-7352 -Sean Pogue (on talk.bizarre) MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Andrea and Sheryl (Chris Meadows)) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] ADMIN: Please Email First Date: Sun, 18 Apr 93 03:26:15 CDT Message-ID: <16BB4305C.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: Please email us before posting to our thread, okay? Hello! This is Andrea and Sheryl. We've sort of taken over for our author temporarily. Anyway, we'd like to mention a couple of things. A couple of people have posted to our thread without emailing us first. Now, while we fully appreciate new people joining into our thread, one of these posts had, well, a few inaccuracies (we've rewritten the inaccurate part of the post, and will be posting it shortly when we get the author's approval). We really would like to avoid this sort of thing, and I'm sure that the potential authors would, too. So, I would like to ask you, if you want to join the [AU] thread or have a potential post for it, please email us first. We will read over your post and offer suggestions and corrections, and possibly rewrite part of it if it is too badly off the track. It will help avoid any errors, and keep the thread on track. Thanks! -- Chris Meadows || Pity me, I live near Branson!!! CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || ----------------------------------- CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || Andrea & Sheryl CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || [AU] thread, alt.pub.dragons-inn MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [Jiri][Storm]: A Tale in the Dark- FFD II. Message-ID: Date: Sun, 18 Apr 1993 22:08:28 GMT [ADMIN] posted for Dani Treutler Swirling mists dance and weave, enclosing, carressing. Twisting tendrils of mist, twining round the mind. Loving touches from sweet lips of mist. "Funny what you feel, when sitting in the dark." The heart lurches, fear pounds through veins. The voice, the voice. It's of the mist, it is the mist. Now silence, only the touch of the mist remains. Then now, it comes again, the cold dark voice. "I once heard, while sitting in the dark... I heard my my soul, speaking softly, subtle whispers. Then the mist came, caressing me as it caresses you now. What it said, I don't really know. But when next I lived, I was black and cold." The voice, mingling with the mist... "Oh, I know what you wonder. I taste your fear, your questions. You would know where you are. And more importantly, who am I, that speaks to you in the dark. Listen, little bird, and I will tell." The mists billow, expanding, yet there is no pressure. Only... presence. Fingers of mist, encircling the throat, tightening. But not hurting, not yet. "Doomed, am I, to walk the Halls of the Night. Through twisting passages of labyrinth dark. I stride the ways to pursue the Art. The art of darkness, the ways of the Blacke. For that am I, now and ever. My fate was sealed in the Halls of the Nether. The Netherlord spake, and I did pledge to follow the Way, through darkness tread. It pulses through me, causing my heart to beat. 'Tis the drink of my essence, my very blood. Flowing through my vessels, is the Power and the Dark." Now the mist and the dark are one. It can no longer be seen, only felt. The Dark takes shape, as did the mist. Folding in on itself, then growing back out. Almost as if the Dark was made of mist, the way it moves, the way it seems to breath. "Funny what you see, while sitting in the dark..." The voice again. The voice of mist, the voice of dark. Malicious it is, but not frightening. Almost beautiful, as is the Night from whence it comes. "But you would know my name, yes? Ah, names are a powerful thing. Would you tell me yours? I didn't think so. Then let me ease your fear by telling you mine. I am the one, who waits in the dark. I am the one, who stalks the night. A beast say some, a fiend of the most vile origins. Both are right. I am he, who purity does lack. I am he, Kalhad the Blackk. Once a god of Kalladahn, my altars ran with the blodd of the damned. Thousands of years, thousands of lives. All fell down under the ebon knives. Then the Light came to me one night. The days they fled, dawn brought the darkdays. The Godslayer came with the armies of Light and his spear clove deep, cursed weapon of bright. I was slain, as well as all Kalladahn. We were denied the day when came the bloody dawn. And so I reigned, in my prison of night. Denied the day, and forbidden the light. So did I wait, the Darks' foul spawn, for many morrows' lights, and morning dawns. Did I murder the Day, or did it kill me? Another time, I'll let you see." The darkness moves as it chuckles silently. A laugh that is felt, not heard. For a long moment, the darkness laughs in silence. It is almost as if it isn't alive anymore. But it is- do not doubt, not ever. The voice then speaks again, but does it speak aloud? "Now that I've told you who I am, you'll want to know the hows and whys. I brought you here so I could ask. Do you know of life and death? Of course not," the darkness seems to shake, "for you are mortal, and what mortal knows that? Ah, there are some. Indeed there are. I will tell you of one, so that you may see. Why you? Don't ask. Just know that I shall share with you this rare glimpse for reasons of my own. There are tales that some have told, of adventure and heroism so true and bold. There are tales that I have heard, of men who braved hells foulest curs. There are tales that many enjoy, for they tell of victory o'ver deaths dark void. But there are also tales that do not. Tales that show how death is wrought. I will tell you one that is so." The mist appears again, separate from the dark, which even now catches the tendrils in a blackened hand, weaving them together. A knot is tied, and for a moment it holds. After that moment, it bursts apart in a quick flash of dark. Kalhad the Blackk swirls the mist around until it becomes a terrible black mass of evil clouds. Clouds? Yes, that is what they are. And underneath them runs the terrified sea... "Lystyn close, and I wyll tell. The Tragedy, the Soulstars' Tale." ******************************************************************* The wind howled in fierce fury, and almost, it seemed, in triumph. The Black Ship of Lady Death clove brutishly through the darkened waves, gathering a speed of unholy magnitude as it bore down upon the ship of sea-doomed men. The Lady herself stood at the bow, smiling upon all that She had wrought. Long black tresses She had, hair that was so full and beautiful it was almost alive. And Her lips- so full, so hungry. Of Her eyes most cannot speak, for to look into the eyes of the Lady of Death is to bare your soul to Her. I, though, know those eyes. I know them well. Of the deepest black are they, and bright in a dark sort of way. They _shine_ darkness, just as the blue eyes of the Soulstars' captain shine bright. It is those eyes, those doorways to the Nine Realms of Hell... [Is she not beautiful, little bird? She is my lady, my love...] The Lady curled her lips into a evil smile, and an equally hungry tongue ran along them as She did. Her captain was making up for his previous mistakes, the Soulstar now being caught between Her ship, and Her beast. A melodious laugh escaped Her as She watched the men scramble across the deck of their ship, as if there was something that they could do. ******** A scream escaped Magarths' lips as he saw the huge black shape rise up out of the sea in front of them. The shrill call was actually an order, but even had it been distinguishable it would not have been obeyed, for they other sailors at the bow were also as terrified as the second mate was. It took a crucial moment for him to get over his initial panic and call again for the spinnicker to be pulled in. He knew that a quick turn would be necesarry, and it would be disaster to come about with the parachute like sail still flying. It would simply tangle up in the riggings and with the other sails as it collapsed. The men manning it began to frantically obey, trying to pull it in, their eyes now on the work, and not the monster. The black sail began to come down. Cain looked briefly at it, witnessing the silver star emblazonned upon it fall from the glorious position it had flown at moments before. The soulstar falling, he thought. That was the most evil of omens... He tore his dark thoughts away from the spinnaker sail and thrust them towards darker subjects. A huge black shape had begun to rise up from the deep, straight in their path. There would be time enough to come about once. That monster better not move fast. The black haired man tried to get a better view of what it was that rose in there path. Even as the sail came down, the dripping black water began to fall from the sea risen shape. No, he thought, not just water, water and kelp. Cain knew fear when he looked upon the horror before him. He knew then what it was to be afraid. The beast that rose up was terrible indeed to behold. Fully as high as the ships' mast it rose from the water. Under the black weed and kelp it was a deep dark blue, with a green underbelly. Cain couldn't decide if it looked more like a snake or a dragon. Or something completely different. The creature of the deep had two baleful red eyes that glowed in the halflight of the storm. It's maw was even more fearsome, for many long fangs did it hold, each as long as a mans' arm, but much thicker around. Two, no three, rows of these teeth did it have. Here was a beast that could bite a ship in twain. And I tell you now, that is exactly what it had done many a time in the past. This was a beast that should not be. Cain hollarred the order to come about just as the spinnicker sail was hauled in. Skip and the Helmsman laboured with the tiller, trying to turn the wheel as fast as they could. Even with both men working on it, it was taking too long. Cain quickly lent his strength to theirs, and the combined might was enough to turn the rudder sharply through the thick sea below. The men held fast to the wheel, not letting up for an instant. As the ship turned past the turning point, Taylor shouted "Helms a lee!" and the sailors frantically pulled at the riggings and sheets as the sails caught the wind from their new angle to it. Even as the new tack set, the beast howled in rage and slowly turned to head the Soulstar off. "We'll not outrun them both Cain!" Skip shouted over the noise of beast and storm. "We must choose the lesser of the two evils." "I know Skip, but I don't think that there is much choice for us. Whoever, or whatever, is controlling this unholy storm sent this evil ship after us, and now has called up a daemon of the deop. They never intended to give us a choice in the matter. Our hand is forced." The captains' blue eyes took on a fierce glint as he took a long careful look at the ship now closing the distance between them. They were the cold and calculating eyes of a killer, of an assassin. After his mental calculations were complete, Cain turned back to Skip, a fierce and evil grin splitting his hard face. "Skip, they force our hand, but we'll not go along with their plan." "We won't, captain?" Old Skip was puzzled, for he could see no way out of their predicament. "No, old friend. We won't. See now, the daemon seeks to head us off again. If it were left to it, we'd be clinging to splintered wood right now. Whatever master keeps such pets has this one on a tight leash. They want us, Skip. The Black Ship wants us. Well, they shall have us, but not as they want us! We're going to board them." Skip nearly choked on his tongue. "B-b-board them, captain? Surely you can't actually mean.." "Yes I mean it Skip," Cain interupted. "They won't expect us to take the initiative and attack them. Hell, when did the merchantman ever turn round and attack the pirates? We've got no other option but to die- and we may not even have a choice in that matter. But if we're to die this day, we do it on our own terms." Skip felt the fierce pride that so often came up when his captain was concerned. Never did Cain back down. Never was he afraid to face death. And never did he like to accept life on it's own ground. They would die alright. But they would put up one hell of a fight. Skip turned, his face beaming, and called to the sailors that even now made ready to fire on the beast. They were wheeling the cannon that Cain had designed into position on the starboard side to fire on the seademon. They were puzzled by his order, but moved the long strange gun to the bow anyways. It fit easily into the metal grooves set in the deck, and was lowered into them with an audible click. The wheels folded up neatly to the sides of the guns' base, and they swivelled it around to face the fore. They didn't load it with an iron cannonball, but with strange steel shards that Cain called 'shrapanal' or something like that. Once the gun was in place, the Soulstar did the unconceivable. The Lady had watched them wheel their gun into place, laughing at their futile attempt to kill Her fiend. Its' life was nothing, once its' purpose was fulfilled- and it would be soon, for there were only a few two hundreds of meters separating the ships now. She was becoming very excited now, for soon She would feed and satisfy her wild lusts. She felt the heartbeats of every man aboard the other ship now, and they pulsed through Her, giving Her the feeling of having Her own heart for a fleeting moment. Oh, but She would have her fill today. As She stood on the deck of Her flagship, The Black Aria, She searched carefully for the life-feel of the one She sought. Ah, there it was- unmistakable, with its' fire and its' vibrance. It was always pleasing to find a death dealer that was so... alive. She was pleased when Her greatest servants were like that- it was so much more pleasurable to take one of them. They fought untill the very end, and even as She took them, they still defied. She had no doubts that Her current quarry would put up such a fight. Ah, there he was. She could see him now upon the deck of the Soulstar. Clad in black breeches, shirt and cloak, as was appropriate. Even as She smiled once more in anticipation, the mortal surprised Her again. The Soulstar prepared to turn again. But where to? There was nowhere to go... The Lady of Death howled in rage at her ships captain, even as she smiled inwardly, for the humans' ship was turning to face them! Oh but the wonders of wonders. Mortals never ceased to surprise Her. When it seemed that they were left no choices, they always found a way to take their destinies into their own hands. Their destinies they could take, She laughed, but not their fates. Their fates were Hers to mold. Oh, but this would be pleasing. And pleasure was what she sought... Cain took his sword from the young sailor who had fetched it and strapped the sword belt round his waist. His hand gripped the pommel until his knuckles where white as the Soulstar came round completly to face the Black Ship. He studied the other ship carefully. There was less than a kilometer between them now, and this distance closed quickly as both ships hurtled cross the waves at each other, the one still on a starboard broad reach, the others' tack now a port beam reach. The black ship did indeed have a huge tear in her mainsail. The other sails too were tattared and torn with age, yet they still all caught the wind somehow. The ship was completely black. It wasn't painted so, Cain knew. It _was_ black- its wood, its bones, its very soul. Even the sails and riggings were of that colour. It was strange- Cain dressed always in black, but the black of the other ship was not just in its' colour, but its' very nature. Cain gasped aloud, a chill hand running up his spine as the crew of the other ship became visible. They were not men. This did not surprise him, for he knew at first glance that the ship was evil. But they were far more so than he had imagined. Skeletal wraiths scrammbled over the riggings. Animated corpses scurried across the deck. The spinal remains of long dead sailors sailed that ship of death. A figure in a black cloak and hood climbed up onto the poop deck to stand beside a large behemoth manning the wheel. Another corpseman stood there as well, obviously the captain by the looks of his tattered hat and cape. The hooded figure seemed to look right at Cain, and even though he could see no face, he knew that eyes long dead, nor ever alive, locked with his own blue orbs. The Lady laugh a casual and almost carefree sound, if not for the malevolent undertones, as She locked her prey with Her black eyes. Even as the deer freezes when seeing the wolfs' eyes, Cain was rooted to the spot upon where he stood. He tried to call an order, but his lips moved not and no sound escaped him. He tried to turn away, but his muscles would not obey his mind. The hooded figure tore at his vision even more than the black flag flying above had earlier. He screamed inside his head, straining to gain control of his body. A dim part of his mind registered a concerned query from someone. Skip. It was Skip. His heart thudded dully in his ears. His breath seemed laboured and ragged. Cain saw long black tresses blow out from under the hood of the dark one. It is the Lady of Death upon the seas. She has come for me. How he knew this, Cain could not fathom. But, he had known so earlier, when the storm was first sighted. When he had said the She would ride the black waves of the storm, he could not have possibly known how right he had been. Where the knowlwdge came from would never be known, and it mattered not. All that mattered was her... NO! Cain strained hard against the unseen eyes that held him. I will not fall so easily, his mind screamed at his tormentor. I will not be your toy. With a finally audible cry, Cain tore his eyes away from the gaze even as Old Skip stood in front of him and began to shake him by the shoulders. "I'm... I'm all right Skip. What happened?" "You sure Cain? You went all funny like. It was as if you were frozen." Skip was feeling relief flood back into him as Cain regained his composure. "There was something there Skip. Something with eyes that burned right through me, into me..." Cain shook his head once more to clear it, then risked another glance at the black ship, careful not to look at the aft end and the figure in black that he knew was there. The two ships were only five hundred meters apart. He saw no cannons on the other ships deck, only the swarming skeletal wraiths. Quickly he directed his attention to his gunner. At his nod, the man turned and called his orders. A moment later, the cannon shook and spit out its steely breath. Cunks and shards of metal torn into the other ship, shredding sail and sailors alike. As they turned to reload, Cain held up a hand as all on board gasped in horror. The corpses that had fallen stood up again, some missing arms and leges, others cut nearly in half. Before astonished mortal eyes, the legion of the dead began to heal itself, new limbs sprouting, and new corpses growing from the severed limbs. Cain quickly gave the order to load with 'ball, and the gunnery crew lowered the angle of the long cannon, now aiming for the hull of the black ship. They had forsaken this a moment ago because of the danger of having the other ship list in front of them. They had to take that risk now, for the shrapnell hadn't done what it was supposed to do. ANother shout, and the cannon fired again, hitting the other ship high up on the hull. Black wood splintered well above the water line as the missle hit right below the rail at the bow. The men scrambled to readjust the angle and reload for one more shot. They ships were less that three hundred meters apart now. Once more the silver dragon spit it's steel breath, another 'ball hurtling towards the oncoming ship. This one struch lower down, and further along the port side. The small hole it made was low enough that water flow in as the ship hit the crests of the higher waves. The crew of the 'Star cheered as they prepared for one more shot. Would they have enough time? Two hundred meters now. One hundred and fifty. The angle was ready. The deck of the other ship was filling steadily with more corpsefoe as they came up from below or down from the rigging. One hundred meters. Taylor gritted his teeth as he saw the thick black ropes being brought to the fore of the skeletal crowds. Some of them even readied crude bows. There wasn't much time left... A crashing boom as the dragon spit forth another bolt. Time seemed to slow as the cannonball flew from the mouth of the cannon and on to it's target. It was a little high, as the ships continued to close. Wood and flesh splintered as the deadly steel ball crashed over the railing of the ship and struck the center of the deck, right at the base of the mast. Several of the wraiths that had been in the missles direct path did not stand up this time. There was not enough left of them to regrow. The mast creeked, then shook as a huge crack began to run up its length. The missed shot had actually done more good than harm. The mast of the black ship began to splinter and break, and slowly swayed back in forth as the relentless wind continued to tear into it, heedless of its' weakened and damaged state. The black ship was crippled, for it could not move without a mast to support its' sails, no matter how well they worked in their torn condidtion. Yet as the deck of the black ship began to crack, a jolting thud rocked the Soulstar. Men flew headlong and barrels below strained and broke their lashings as the sleek vessel shuddered to a grinding halt. Amid cries of surpirse and shock, new sounds of horror sprung up as the first sailors saw the forgotten sea daemon. The scaly monster had gripped the 'Star in four massive arms. Claws sunk deep into the wood, locking into the sides of the ship. Even as Cains' ship slowed to a rough unnatural stop in the creatures grasp, the Black Ship of Lady Death also slowed as it's mast began to topple. Strangely, it toppled not with the wind, but in the opposite direction that the wind should have blown it. An unseen hand guided the mast to fall directly in the path of the Soulstar. Only fifty meters now separted the two ships. The black ship moved on as it quickly lost speed, and the 'Star inched forward at only a fraction of its' previous speed. The blue and green beast let go of the Soulstar with one arm and held it out to brace his mistress's ship. The mast fell lazily, not at all worried, as the Soulstar slid forward through the waves. Her crew looked on in helpless horror as the ship moved into the path of the toppling mast. Sailors scrambled across the decks to get out of the way of the black mast. With a resounding crash that was loud even above the howling storm the mast connected with the deck of the Soulstar, crushing the railings on either side of the deck, the evil black sigil flying now above the waves on the far side of the 'Star, where the masts top extended. Cain swore an unholy oath as he rushed down to meet Taylor on the deck. The monster now held both ships side by side, and they both shook one final mighty shake as they were locked in together in the grip of the hideous behemoth of the deep. As the men struggled to their feet, so too did the Legion of Death on the other ship, now but twenty feet away, and alongside. Black ropes began to fly across the gap and grappling hooks took seat in the railings of Cains' ship. The black clad captain drew the sword of the Kaladh'ran and readied to face the corpse foe that even now began to soundlessly flow across the bridge made by their ships' mast. The men of the doomed ship drew their swords and advanced to meet the onslaught with grim looks upon their faces. The only sounds that could be heard were those made by the wind and waves. Ropes and timbers creeked and moaned. Even the great seabeast had fallen silent. Of a sudden, the sailors began to scream their battle cry as one, but still the undead army held its' oath of silence as the first of them swarmed over onto the deck of the Soulstar. ****************************************************************** "I see that I have caught your interest, little bird. Would you like to hear more? Hehehehe... It matters not what you would like, for I will tell you the tale anyways. But it amuses me to ask you. Do you see? Do you see how futile mortal existance can be? When the Lady sets out to satisfy her lust, and I tell you that lust is great, men shall fall and men shall die. She will reap her harvest from the fields of the earth, and cut men down with her great reap. No mortal hand can stay the HAnd of Death." The mist seems to pour back up, and the scene dissolves. Kalhad the Blackk gathers the mist up into his blackened hands again, playing with it for a moment, then sending it to snake back round the mind, and the throat. Malevolence incarnate is his dark voice. "Oh sweetest darkest Lady of Death, Give unto me thy icy breath. Let me taste thy lips so cold, Of mine soul thou doss take hold. Squeeze me tighter in thy grip, And hie thee now to Cain's doomed ship." Fingers of mist, twining and circling. Tightening round the mind, taking root in the now pure soul. Probing, questing, searching, the tendrils of mist feel through the mind until they find what they seek. Now, they have it. The sweet lips kiss softly, carressing and teasing. Then suddenly, they are gone, and the snakes of mist are biting the soul, injecting their dark venom through fangs of Night. Slowly, ever so slowly, the body shudders as the poison of the Dark begins to taint the soul. "Funny what you hear, when you're sitting in the dark." --Kalhad the Blackk, master of Mists and Walker of the Dark. [ADMIN]: Thanks to Hutch for posting this for me, and again to Jen and the rest of the JOI crew. And of course to Andrea and Sheryl for inspiration. ;) Dani Treutler. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Pitzar] An End... Message-ID: <1993Apr19.024241.11243@organpipe.uug.arizona.edu> From: corleyj@argon.gas.uug.arizona.edu (Jason D Corley ) Date: 19 Apr 93 02:42:41 GMT I spent the night in an alley halfway up the Arcade of Unforgotten Heroes. The statues hadn't seemed to have been touched at all by the storm. I didn't sleep. I spent the night staring at the cobbles, counting them slowly. The next morning I crawled up out of the muck, brushed myself off and knocked on the door to the Temple of Aditi. "How can I serve?" the girl at the door asked. "May I see Lady Delmara, please?" I said, trying not to meet her gaze. She nodded, and let me in. She didn't say anything about the way I looked. Lady Delmara settled herself down in the chair across from me. "Good morning, sir." "Hi." "How may I serve you?" she asked. I unslung my knapsack. The sudden movement made her flinch. I wondered exactly how many times she had been hurt, or hurt herself, because of her religion. I pulled a mass of damp parchment from the knapsack and grabbed a quill, too. I looked at her closely. She had relaxed again, and looked very at ease, comfortable, and desirable. "I'm from the Examiner", I said. "Could you answer a few questions for me?" "As you wish." she said. "Where did you get the money to build a new Low Town?" Her face was impassive. "I can't tell you that." I looked at her. "Was it a parishoner? A regular? Did you know him? Male or female?" Her face twitched again. "I can't tell you." The pen scritched to a halt on the page. I knew what I should do. I should thank her for her time and stand up and walk out. Just stand up and walk away from her and the temple. But I didn't do that. I didn't walk away. "Tell me." I said, my voice filled with a sudden anger, the anger of two days building quickly. She shook her head, staring at me suddenly. "N..I can't." I tried to keep my voice even, but it sounded too loud in the small room, "Tell me who gave you the money." Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. I leaned forwards as I got to my feet. She still sat there, she looked so strange, this strong, beautiful, confident woman cowering in her chair. It was my turn to be left speechless. "Sorry." I said, and coughed. "Sorry." I left quickly. Outside the sun blazed down and made my eyeballs hurt. I was breathing heavily. I looked out from the top of the temple steps across midtown. The city was alive, moving around. And it was moving around without me in it. Everything I once had, disappeared in a few words and a single storm. "Sure, I'll cover the Blackhawk story for you..." and a lance of lightning coming down from the sky right into the heart of the city. My city. My heart. And it was like I had never been here, never stepped in the muddy streets. My footprints were gone. The bottle in my desk was broken. And Dawn... I knew what I should do. And I did it. I stepped into the office and I guess I had a look in my eye, because Steve took out a sympathetic parchment and laid it on the top of the desk. I stuck my head into Heartwell's office. He had some third-rate noble up against the ropes. "See you around, Mr. Heartwell." He started to say something. I just looked at him ans said "Steve can clean out my office." Heartwell looked at me and said, "All right." I left Generica. I split from the whole fucking city. There was a long road towards a horizon and a sky filled with stars right outside that gate. And I knew, somehow, that I wouldn't be any happier there. But at least I wouldn't be back there. In the city. A city of pain and a hundred thousand memories, of chances that someone offered you once that you didn't take. As I my boots touched the mud outside the city, 12 more on horseback rode in. They were all talking excitedly. They were all seeking their fortune in the big city. As I watched them, they disappeared around a corner and soon I couldn't hear them in the low humming of the city. Generica goes on, sure. But it goes on without me. ********************************* At the _Examiner_, in Old Man Heartwell's office, there is a box. Inside this box are 15 scrolls of parchment, the receiving end of 15 other scrolls that receive information from correspondants all over Generica and the world. One of them has no name at the top. Sometimes Heartwell picks up that scroll, unfolds it carefully, squints in the dim light of an oil lamp for any words, then closes it up and returns it to the box. It is always blank. [ADMIN: I am leaving the net indefinitely. The Generican Examiner is now open property. And when Jake comes back, I come back. Simple as that. ;-) ] -- ****************************************************************************** "The difference between the military and the Boy Scouts of America is the Boy Scouts are allowed to carry knives and they have adult leadership."--Anon. Jason D. "corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu" Corley might have posted this. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: aaron@atlantis.uucp (Aaron Humphrey) Subject: [MI][AU][Storm] Teonyl: Shelter From The Storm Message-ID: <1993Apr19.030803.23661@atlantis.uucp> Date: Mon, 19 Apr 1993 03:08:03 GMT Characters involved: Teonyl, Alfvaen, Mary Littlefair Characters involved peripherally: Sheryl, Rowan Littlefair, everyone else currently in the Inn Teonyl woke with a warm body beside her in the bed. The bed was not made to hold two, and others may have called it cozy, but Teonyl was used to her space. Usually she found it easy to get to sleep when sharing a bed, in the afterglow of lovemaking, but waking up wasn't as pleasant. Carefully she disentwined herself from her companion. What was his name again? Alfvaen, that was it. "You awake?" he mumbled. "'Time is it?" "Just a sec," she said. She opened one of the shutters and peeked out at the sky. It was still quite dark out, but the noise of the city sounded like late morning. The gloom came from overhanging dark cloud. "Morning sometime. The weather doesn't look so great." She sniffed the wind, but couldn't tell much. Being used to inland cities, she was doubly disadvantaged, not having either the coast-dweller's or countryman's sense of weather. Still, she knew what looked like a storm in the air. Alfvaen moaned slightly. She recalled him making a point of not having a drink the night before, so he couldn't have a hangover. Maybe he was just cramped, like she was. She started going through her morning's stretches, trying to ignore the morning-after-a-one-night-stand awkwardness. At least she hoped that was all it was--she wasn't ready for too much more than a one-nighter. She didn't want to put down roots anywhere until she felt sure she was safe again--maybe never. She'd lived that way before the Florians, and would again. She was just a bit out of practice. Alfvaen watched her stretches with sleepily lustful admiration. "C'mere and let's get you warmed up properly," he murmured. She laughed. "All right." *** They ate breakfast together at Nester's Inn, taking advantage of the gap between breakfast and lunch crowds. Perhaps this could be a one-nighter that turned into friendship, Teonyl thought. "So what do you do in the city?" she asked. "Investigation," he said. "The day I came into the city, I checked out ads for this place, Moriarty Investigations. Turned out they needed my help, so I signed up. It's been...interesting work." Luck must be with her. A friend in an investigation agency was just the thing she'd need to search for her sister. "That's a stroke of luck," she said. "One of the reasons I came to Generica is that I'm...looking for someone. I may want your help with that later. But right now I have to figure out some way to get the money to pay you, right? Unless you work for free..." She grinned. Alfvaen grinned back. "No, I don't think we work for free. Hmmm...well, most adventuring-type jobs are posted in the Dragon's Inn. You been there yet?" She shook her head. "I don't blame you. I've never been comfortable in the company of 'career' adventurers anyway. Still, here in Generica you get a bit better class, usually. And the barkeep, Rowan Littlefair, is a nice guy." "I'll check that out, then," Teonyl said. "Before the weather gets any worse. And I'll get back to you when I can afford you..." *** Teonyl was in sight of the Plaza of Glittering Steel when the first rain started to fall. It felt more like hail than rain, though. She cursed as it pounded her head and started to run. When she hit the Plaza proper, she skidded on the slick metal(stupid, stupid, should've expected that)and sprawled facedown. Dazed, it was a couple of minutes before she picked herself up. She heard thundercracks off in the distance, several in succession. Some part of her brain whispered metal, lightning, bad bad bad. When it penetrated, she cursed again and pulled herself up. A bit muddy, and very soaked, but damned if she was going to get fried by lightning standing in the middle of a huge sheet of metal. The downpour was thick enough to obscure the vision, but she could make out the Dragon's Inn sign and made that way. As long as they hadn't bolted the door...no, they hadn't. Erevan be praised for his restraint. She pulled open the door, struggling against the gale-force winds which had come up when she hadn't noticed, and finally managed to pull herself inside. The thick door closed and everything suddenly seemed quieter. She could hear the gentle strains of a lute, and hushed conversation. Standing a bit more firmly now(her left knee crying a bit ungraciously in pain), she surveyed the inhabitants. Standard adventurer-types(mostly--a unicorn there, how ostentatious, hope she didn't scare it off), but she didn't focus on any of them. A bar, a barkeep, the Rowan Littlefair Alfvaen had mentioned, no doubt. A fire. Yes, the fire got priority. She was soaked, and all her clothes were at Nester's except what she was wearing, and damned if she was going to skin down in front of an innful of adventurers, so it looked like she'd have to dry her clothes and herself at the same time, sitting in front of the fire. She walked over to the fire, limping slightly, and sat as close as she could. Blessed warmth. "You must be soaked, dearie," a voice said from her elbow. She turned to see a matronly woman standing behind her, looking solicitous. She nodded. "I think I'll be okay if I can sit at the fire and dry off," she said. "But a hot mulled cider would be just right." "Coming right up," the other woman said cheerfully. "I'm Mary Littlefair, by the way." Teonyl considered giving a false name, but she'd already told her real one to Alfvaen, so, caution to the winds. "Teonyl," she said. Mary brought her her cider a few minutes later, and Teonyl sipped it gratefully. Eventually she started to get warm. She could hear the storm outside get even louder, and shuddered. Finally she was warm enough to wonder about the employment opportunities Alfvaen had mentioned. There was some kind of board with bits of parchment pinned to it--maybe that was it? She went to investigate. -- ---Alfvaen(1969 Books, 1101 Albums, And Counting) "The word 'semen' is included in the word 'basement'." --Gooley Current Album--Richard Thompson:Across A Crowded Room Current Read--Nicole Luiken:Ribbons Red MagicHutchHeader From: kjc@aramis.rutgers.edu (Kelly J. Cooper) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Jameson through and out of [storm] Keywords: all caught up now ... sorta Message-ID: Date: 19 Apr 93 05:08:50 GMT "If you add a teaspoon of wine to a barrel of sewage, you get sewage. If you add a teaspoon of sewage to a barrel of wine, you get sewage. This, my son, is entropy." "In spite of the cost of living, it's still popular." -Kathleen Norris The storm passed for the group in Master Corder's basement with little incident. Master Corder had built it well, having included a water feed and Danna Corder and her children had provisioned it carefully. Danna's mother awoke eventually, and Danna fed her careful doses of herbs to relieve pain. The young couple both awoke ill with slight fever, but suffered little more than head-aches and coughing, thanks to Danna's ministrations. The babe sniffled as well, but seemed otherwise healthy. The young woman, Jameson was soon told, was Corder's eldest niece Kri and the man, her husband Chas. They had with them their infant son, called Benja after Master Corder himself. Corder had found them at Danna's mother's home, their own having collapsed. When he'd gotten there, the house was nearly shaking apart and Danna's mother, whom everyone called Mum, had been trying to keep things together. She had been buffetted by the loose debris the wind flung about, and was nearly unconscious when Corder found her and carried her back. She had turned down his first offer to take shelter with them, preferring to stay in the home where she had raised her children. Despite perhaps losing everything, she remained calm and was a very peaceful woman. She seemed to enjoy Jameson's company immensely. The only person who had not fared the storm well was Master Corder himself. He lay in a deep fever, tossing and moaning quietly. The elder children took turns laying cold cloths on his forehead and eyes while Danna mixed brew after brew of fever-breakers which she gently forced him to swallow. The storm seemed to go on forever, and they all lost track of time. Moments were measured by the tasks that needed to be done. Corder had built the basement expressly for this kind of contingency, as well as storage, but the water had to be hand-pumped and the toilet, crank-flushed only once an hour. The furnace had to be stoked and fed with cords of wood that needed to be broken up. Foods were prepared and the elders sometimes had to be helped with their eating and taking care of themselves. A number of them refused to let Jameson touch them, so she kept herself to Mum, while Danna and Kam helped the others. When they were tired, they took turns sleeping, making sure someone stayed awake beside Corder throughout. Jameson had little use for sleep, but found that both Kam and Danna _needed_ a certain amount of time for taking care of Corder. It seemed to help them, so she didn't interfere. Instead, she spoke with Mum. "Silly fool." She was leaning on her hand looking at Corder with both worry and affection. "Mind you, though, I'm a sillier one for not movin' in th'first place. Ah, we get so caught up in things, as we get older. Plates and 'wares, nice pictures and fine weaves. Them an' memories seem like all we have." She smiled quietly at Jameson, her eyes bright. "You're lucky, child, to be young. You can live your life with little more than what you carry on your back." She poked a toe at Jameson's pack and shook her head. Soft thick curls of grey danced around her shoulders. "Wait til you're old and boring." Jameson grinned broadly at her, "But Mum, you're not boring at all." Mum made a dismissive noise and clucked. "Perhaps, perhaps. And perhaps you're not so young." Then she chuckled and caught up one of her grandchildren, who had come running by, and tickled her until she was breathless. * * * Jameson lay quietly in the dark. There was almost no noise coming in from above. She wondered briefly what time of day or night it could be, then listened more carefully. She could hear, softly, a woman crying. Jameson stood and made her way around the sleepers each on their mats and blankets upon the floor. In the dim light of a latern burning low, she saw Danna kneeling over her husband, tears streaming down her cheeks. Jameson knelt beside Danna and said a soft prayer under her breath, to whomever might be listening, then turned and caught Danna's face in her hands. The woman's sunken eyes could barely focus on Jameson's, and she blinked slowly. Jameson said, very softly, "sleep, Danna, and be at peace." The woman sank to the floor and Jameson wrapped her in blankets, then shuffled to sit at Corder's head. His head was especially hot to her cool hands and she gently lifted it into her lap and began to speak ... "Benja Corder, listen to me very carefully. I need for all of Benja Corder to listen to me now. We are going to overcome and absorb our enemy and make its strength our own. Benja Corder has a family who loves him more than life and he cannot leave them. It is not yet his time. Know this ..." Jameson's hands rested lightly on Corder's face and she began to speak blood music, the song of that which is ourselves knowing and unknowing, that which we feed and which feeds us. It is not magic, it is a different voice. A different mind. But it is neither voice nor mind, it simply is. It is blood. It is time, Jameson said to the blood of Benja Corder, it is time. Soon or the burning will destroy the body. Soon or the burning will destroy the mind and loose the soul first into sorrow, then into freedom. It is time. Weave. Build. Grow. Warm. Surround. Weave. Engulf. Take in. Absorb. Move. Cool. Weave. Slip. Cleanse. Make. Unmake. Sing. Weave. Remember. Flow. Become. Through. Easy. Gentle. Weave. Breathe. Ease. Heart's blood. Heart's blood. Heart's blood Hearts blood heartsblood heartsblood ... heartsblood ... heartsblood ... Very far away, Jameson heard someone scream. It was not her, nor was it Corder. She filtered it out, concentrated on the rhythm of Corder's heart. Swimming, she was flowing and pounding. Muscles stretch and contract. Blood makes noise. Kam, woken by the scream of one of the old Aunties, stared at Jameson where she sat with Corder's head in her lap. Both had their eyes wide open and staring. Both drew breath deeply and expelled at exactly the same moment. Muscles rippled across the bodies of each as one. Both breathed out, then stopped. One heartbeat, two, three ... ten pounded in his ears. Still they didn't breathe. Twenty of his own heartbeats crashed against his ears when suddenly, as one, they both took ragged gasps of air and Corder sat up, his hands going to his head. He was drenched in sweat and it occurred to Kam that his fever had broken. He noticed Jameson back away from Corder as his wife grabbed and held him tightly. The children stood awkwardly before them until they were gathered into the arms of both their parents and Corder laughed, and though his throat sounded raw, the laugh was very much alive. And Kam wondered for perhaps the two-hundreth time what sort of person Jameson W. Walker might be... * * * Jameson unbarred the door and walked slowly up stone steps into the brightness that was a clear morning. Looking around she saw the ground littered with devastation and sorrow, but also hope and rebuilding. In a strange way, the city almost seemed cleaner, despite the debris. Scrubbed behind the ears, perhaps. She slung the pack over her shoulder. She'd had enough of the Corders' elders and wanted to let the Corder-youngers have a chance to celebrate together. Jameson was glad that their house had stood. As she began to walk away, headed for the Dragon's Inn, she heard a voice calling and she turned to see Kam hurrying toward her. Holding his hand out, palm toward her, he almost stuttered several questions before stopping and finally saying, very solemnly, "Thank you." Jameson grasped his hand and smiled, "You're welcome." He looked into her eyes for a long moment, searching for something. Jameson gently disengaged her hand and turned away. Before she'd taken three strides Kam called out, "You'll be back, for more lessons, hey? And your, what was it called?" She swung around, laughing. "Bicycle, Kam. Yes, I will most certainly be back." --------------------------------------------------------------------- Kelly J. Cooper \ A-wop-ba-ba-loo-bap-whop-bam-boom Tragically Hip Waif \ Comments appreciated. ...individual at large... \ kjc@cs.rutgers.edu --------------------------------------------------------------------- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: [JOI] Segoi... Message-ID: <1993Apr19.171122.8933@ultb.isc.rit.edu> Date: Mon, 19 Apr 1993 17:11:22 GMT Segoi lay in a pool of his own sweat. The bed rocked gently as the boat moved across the now calm sea. The great wounds in his sides had healed little, and he was too weak to move much from blood loss. Occasionally someone would come in, but Segoi could not see through th veil that covered his eyes, empty and staring. His mind worked though healing his body slowly, one of his companions, he knew not who, had tried to heal him some, and for a time it had worked. Yet Segoi was so _alien_ to the magic it soon faded leaving the gashes to open. He lay now almost without moving in a catatonic state. Unplugged from the rest of the world he knew only the buring pain at his sides and shoulder. Even that was beginning to dull. He felt himself slipping away... Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Andrea and Sheryl (Chris Meadows)) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [ADMIN] [AU] [HouseStorming] Returning home... Date: Mon, 19 Apr 93 13:15:04 CDT Message-ID: <16BB5BA58.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: Andrea unicorn Sheryl Blaze Lance [AU] [HouseStorming] ADMIN: Hi, this is Andrea and Sheryl, writing for the [AU] thread while our author is indisposed. This is the last part of the recent post by Christopher Motherway, but rewritten by us because the original version had a few inaccuracies. Note that this is in no way a flame against Christopher Motherway, who really was great for letting us use Raoh as part of our background--we just want to be sure that everything written about us is as correct as possible. Also, the original post by Christopher Motherway was set "a week after the storm." However, the current timeframe in which our thread is set is the next day. Therefore, we have gotten Christopher's permission to set the time frame for his post to the next day. Thanks! Now on with the show. ----------------------------------------------------------------- (Previously, in Christopher Motherway's post, Lance and Blaze came back to Generica the day after the big storm had hit. They went to the Dragon's Inn, to find out what had happened.) (Previously, in the [AU] thread, Andrea and Sheryl (that's us! :) have had their fortune told by Enn Piecy, then Sheryl was measured for the curse removal by Kardia. After this, Andrea and Sheryl returned to their rooms for a while, ----------------------------------------------------------------- Littlefair then told about the storm and how the Inn faired in it; how it was changed into a sort of hospital/shelter for whoever stumbled into it. "If not for Andrea, the Inn would look far worse." "Andrea?" said Lance. "Oh, yes, you HAVE been gone long, haven't you? She came in a couple of days before the storm. Don't know much about her, but...Hey, there she is now." He pointed to the young woman in her mid-twenties, sitting at a nearby table. "Hey, Andrea!" he called out. She looked up, got up, came over to the bar, with Sheryl following her. Lance and Blaze turned to see the young woman, smile on her face, as Littlefair introduced them. Then Blaze looked at the creature by her side, and started to cry again. She knelt down to the animal and said, "I...I don't believe it...Lance, it is a...a...a unicorn! A true unicorn!" Andrea said, "Well, sort of..." Lance was amazed as well. He had always thought of unicorns as fables. Even when Blaze told her of a time her father claimed to have played chess with such a creature and even had a painting to prove it (The painting was never recovered)! Then he asked, "Sort of? What is `sort of' a unicorn?" Andrea shrugged. "She just is." "So," Littlefair said, "How did your quest go?" Lance smiled. "Raoh the Conquerer will conquer no more." Andrea's eyes lit up. "You...you killed Raoh?!?" "Yes." Tears came to Andrea's eyes. "Thank you," she said. Sheryl nickered. What? Lance wondered. "Hold on. A _group_ of us killed him. I believe Tarkyn was the one who actually slew him. Why are you so happy about this?" "Because that bastard destroyed my village and killed my mother! And he left Raykor--one of his underlings, a wizard--behind to perform his...EXPERIMENTS...on the surviving villagers." The expressions on Lance and Blazes's faces spoke volumes. "What happened? Please tell us," Blaze asked. "Well...you did rid the world of Raoh, so I suppose you do deserve to hear it." Andrea related the story of when Raoh had visited, how Raykor had changed Sheryl, how she had become a thief. Blaze petted Sheryl and said, "Such a pity; to be transformed into a hunted creature for the sole purpose of assuaging Raykor's hurt ego. That is truly evil!" Andrea nodded, and said, "Yes...for ten years or more I've been wandering this world looking for a cure. Now that I've finally found one--'Raelf helped me out--I found that Sheryl doesn't actually want to be changed back." Sheryl whinnied and nodded in agreement. "In fact, she can't be--her human shape is gone, completely wiped out. But we will lift the curse, all the same." Lance looked at Blaze, but Blaze said, "No, beloved, I cannot lift curses. I have never learned." Andrea had been about to ask, but, by the way Sheryl was almost attracted to Blaze, she knew Blaze was some sort of magician. "It's not necessary, anyway," Andrea said. "A friend of ours who is an experienced cursebreaker has agreed to help in that matter." Just then, she had an idea. "Hey, I just bought a house which I need help debugging." At their look, she explained about how the master thief had built it full of traps, then died without revealing the secrets. "Perhaps you two could join me in disarming the traps?" Lance and Blaze looked at each other. Then they looked back and Lance said, "M'lady, we would be honored. After all, we have something in common...er, rather, HAD something in common: hatred for Raoh. Littlefair? Two Murduk Whiskers and whatever drink Andrea wants." After a pause, he added, "And...add in a small salad for Sheryl." Sheryl neighed in delight, having not have eaten for a while. After their drinks, Blaze said, "Whenever the expedition is ready to begin, head up to room 13A. One of us is bound to be there, and we will join you." Andrea nodded. "Thanks," she said, putting down her mug of stout ale. "We'll remember that." ----------------------------------------------------------------- -- Chris Meadows || Andrea & Sheryl CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || [AU] thread, alt.pub.dragons-inn CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || -------------------------------- CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || A supporter of rec.arts.creative MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: asgds@aurora.alaska.edu Subject: Mikar Escapes Message-ID: <1993Apr19.170205.1@aurora.alaska.edu> Date: Tue, 20 Apr 1993 01:02:05 GMT Mikar looked at the man approaching him. He was a warrior. A very big man with wild, dark brown hair and dark eyes. He was dirty from travel and very tough looking. "Boy how would you like to earn some gold?" The man looked down at Mikar with a hunger in his eyes. Hunger and anticipation. "What would I do to get this gold?" he asked, brushing his long golden hair out of his face. His brown eyes looking up warily at the stranger. "Follow me." said the warrior. Mikar followed. The warrior took the lad to an anonymous inn, and up to his room. "Sit down." Mikar sat on the bed. The man leaned against the door to the room, there was no window. "I am on a quest and have sworn myself to he cause of killing the sorceress Achthyl. I am also sworn, for religious reasons not to lie with a woman until my quest is over. Achthyl has placed a curse of lust and passion on me. I am in need of... companionship." "Funny word for it... what's your name?" "Nikola, Nikola Lastchilde." "Why do you hunt this witch, and why the vow of purity?" "Achthyl is, among other things, a lust witch. She could entrap me in any form she chose. Any female form. Thus the oath. I hunt her because she destroyed my village, and enslaved the people for her vile pleasures and magical experiments. I am the only survivor. After performing some of her experiments on me, and using me as her plaything, she left me for dead. I was found by a wandering druid, who raised me to adulthood. I have sworn a blood oath to make her pay for what she has done, to me and to all the others she has destroyed." "Do you normally like men?" "I prefer women." "I don't care either way," Mikar said as he removed his clothes. "Know this Nikola Lastchilde, I am going to acompany you an your quest, for you are my escape from the life I lead. I am a thief, a trickster, and a whore. I have lived my life upon the streets of Generica. If you lie with me tonight, you create a bond, we will share this quest, I will help you towards your goal, and you will teach me the skills of a warior." Mikar was naked, and fairly clean under his urchins rags. His young body was both muscular and soft. The warior stood at the door, torn between lust and fear.... "Very well. Tell me boy, what is your name?" The boy pressed himself against the man's large, strong frame and whispered in Nikola's ear... "I am Mikar." Then a bond was formed... MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [NERC] A favor for Chicele Date: 20 Apr 1993 04:08:07 GMT Message-ID: <1qvsv7$rtk@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> Nercrum sat in a corner of a surprisingly clean cul-de-sac, trying to concentrate. Someone had cleared away most of the debris and set up a rough stone altar, but it was definately not holy ground. He had learned how to tell that quickly. His eyes flickered for a moment, becoming a deep red, and the Hunger returned. /Damn that Chicele,/ he thought. /He wasn't supposed to start asking favors yet. Still, this will make him more likely to help when the time comes. Seen dead indead./ A low growl came from his throat and stopped abruptly as he heard a noise. People started shuffling in as if they had no will of their own. He watched silently as almost fifty people walked in and knelt before the altar. There was no distinction between them, even though some some were fat and obviously rich and some were fat and poor. They were all mindless. One of them noticed Nercrum and spoke something at him. Concentrating again for a brief moment, Nercrum became a large bat and flew clumsily out of the cul-de-sac. The others had joined the man that noticed him in a droaning chant. And with each word, he felt the power of their worship. Several humanoid forms grumble restlessly in a building just past Low City. The rain drones ominously, broken occasionally by loud cracks of thunder or a snore from the half-ogre sleeping in the corner. Spiked collars reflect the dying light of a fire that lots it's struggle against the storm. "I don't like it," one says. "We shouldn't have moved here." "You afraid Muys?" a less human one laughs. "Thought you were s'posed to be Badds." Muys shakes his head. "Whatever was here, I can still feel it." "Don't tell me yer getting all magical on us." another one says. "We shouldn't be here, that's all." Another one put his hand on Muys' shoulder. "Leave it. Unless you want to take it up with him." He gestured over to the snoring half-orc. Shutters blew open and cold rain finished the last of the glowing coals. Muys thought about the trouble Benthor Rinch would be having getting the orc-dogs in this weather. {...master... ...they...await... ...unaware...} Nercrum flapped across Low City and partially into the Shunned Center. It looked to Nercrum just like any other part of Low City. Some buildings once must have been grand, but all had fallen to neglect. There was, however, a strong presense of evil nearby. It was powerful, more so than Nercrum, but not active. When the time came, he would look into this as well. /A place of recognised danger. The perfect place for a chance killing. But why this particular one?/ The meeting with Chicele played through Nercrum's mind again. Chicele wanted the ogre Hot Seccho dead, but not any others, if it could be helped. When Nercrum had asked certain questions, like if he cared about the condition of Seccho after his death, Chicele seemed uncertain, even nervous. Nercrum had listened for the voice he heard the first time, but the Drift Inn was particularly noisy that night. Eventually Chicele expressed that he wanted it clear that Seccho was dead. Apparently, it was supposed to be a clear message. As he dove in towards the building he was told he would find them in, the Hunger rose. He considered briefly changing Hot Seccho anyway. He didn't have any vampires amoung his ranks yet. But, no. He still needed Chicele's favor. The scent of blood nearly overwhelemed his senses as he enterd the building where a window had been shattered. He dove for the forms rising in front of him. The scent was strongest on one of the smaller ones, life flowing from his hand. Nercrum lurched upward and gripped the form's shoulder, tasting his neck with a sharp bite, just above the spiked collar. Someone screams and he gets slammed into a wall. Suddenly Nercrum's mind cleared. The taste of blood in his throat almost made him gag. /What happened?/ he thought, and ran his tongue across his teeth. /I'm human again!/ The thugs didn't seem as surprised at Nercrum's change as he was. Knives flashed and a club was drawn. "Now, what we got here?" Fifti Meahodds taunted. "A senile old vampire?" "He's mine," Whurgo Finkum said, his bloody hand holding his neck. "'sides, metal don't work against these guys." He grinned yellow and black teeth as he ripped up a piece of the floor. "Ya gotta use wood." Nercrum's mind raced as each member expressed his distaste of Nercrum's arrival. Instinct took over as Whurgo lunged at him with his broken board. Nercrum rolled to the side and bruised his shin across the yout's ribcage. He rolled to his feet and reached for his sword to find it wasn't there. /Damn,/ he thought. /This doesn't look good. Pain burst out of his arm as Thilu's dagger lodged between the bones. Adrenaline surged and he whirled to smash the imputant boy's face, but Thilu had already backed off. The club appeared through Nercrum's chest, and Hyac followed suit, toppling to the floor. The dagger fell from his arm to stick in the floor. Emotions bathed Nercrum. Anger, fear and pain feeding his new form. Ghost had never come to Nercrum before, but he was learning to tell what abilities each form had. He lowered his eyes to the gang and concentrated. Some froze or dropped their weapons. Some ran in terror. One stepped forward. "Ya don' scare me, punk," Hot Seccho said. {I don't need to,} Nercrum projected. He bent to pick up the fallen dagger and a hand went through him. Another hand passed through as he raised the dagger to eye level. He waited a moment to look Hot Seccho in the eyes an projected, {I needn't even use magick.} At this a human hand slashed once. A half-ogre hand swung once. Moments later a large bat flew over Low City, nursing a very sore wing. MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BH] The stories slowly continue... Date: 20 Apr 1993 04:19:53 GMT Message-ID: <1qvtl9$s32@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> Arthsplunt listened with an interest that seemed very out of character for him as Amberle told Miscrir's story. As soon as she finished, he said, "IrememberSilthurerMazurmediumbuildFireMakerwitha- noisypersonalityandfriendofGurshfireandcoldmakerfrommyorigionalworldof- themanyavatarsandunstablereality-" He cleared his throat and said in an embarassed voice, "Sorry. Slipped into gnomish. Silth was a good friend." > Amberle said, "Friend do you wish to join us at this table. I think >it will only cost you a story since you seem to have been listening to >ours." Toscon grinned and sat beside her. "It would be my pleasure, milady, if I had a story worth telling. Truth is that I have spent my entire life wandering from city to city. To be sure, I have met some strange people, but I tend to avoid those that risk their lives on a regular basis. That lifestyle does not present itself to me as a healthy one." He cracked a slight smile and lifted one of Amberle's hands to his lips. "However, I would gladly travel with one of your beauty regardless of the risk." MagicHutchHeader From: peters@physics.ubc.ca (Dan Peters) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD][Storm] Seeking refuge Date: 20 Apr 1993 08:23:59 GMT Message-ID: <1r0buvINNk2v@iskut.ucs.ubc.ca> [ADMIN: Ok, there's no apparent justification for including "[BBD]" in the subject line of this post. But there's precedent for that sort of thing.... :-) ] The pole was nearly finished. Kaalzic had worked on it gradually over the course of the last five years, and now the images carved into its surface told his story to any who had the ability to interpret them. He had overdone it a bit. The images started with the eastward migration of his people as they escaped the conquering armies of the Mbak Empire, nearly a millenium before his birth. Many other events were depicted, including, significantly, the rise of a new monotheistic faith founded by the prophet Awaru. There had been a series of prophets following after Awaru, and much time and energy had been spent over the centuries debating which ones were genuine. One of the controversial ones was Eldaac the Pacifist, who interpreted Awaru's nonviolent teachings absolutely literally. Kaalzic's family had consisted mostly, for the last dozen generations, of devout followers of Eldaac. This in itself was not a problem, but since his great-grandfather had been granted land and wealth as a reward for service to the Forest King, this pacifism had proved to be a tremendous disadvantage in the game of aristocratic politics. Kaalzic's sister 'Nien had horrified the family by rejecting Eldaac's teachings. She even went as far as to become a soldier, and was remarkably successful in this career - eventually becoming one of the very few women in the King's Guard. So she wasn't there when the attack came. Most of the family was slaughtered. They didn't even try to defend themselves. Among the attackers was a wizard who had singled Kaalzic out for special treatment. The results of that encounter were impossible to forget. But somehow he had lived, and had been cared for by an elderly couple of servants, who taught him much of the art of healing. He had searched for his sister, wanting to tell her that she had been right all along, and (hopefully) to be reconciled. He found that she was no longer with the Guard and had apparently decided to find the fabled city of Dzenerika, far to the west. He had then wandered for two years before finding the city. He was now sitting on a rock outside his cabin, carving the images representing his encounter with the wolves just outside the city, and their adoption of him. There wasn't much left to tell - he had never found any trace of his sister in Generica, and lacking any clues, he had settled here and made paintings for the last five years. He was so absorbed in his work that it took a few minutes for him to notice that the wind had picked up and a cold rain was starting to fall. It was also quickly getting dark. He stood up and pulled the pole into his cabin. It was quite dark inside, so he lit a lantern and sat down to continue his carving. Soon it became obvious that the wind was so strong that the cabin was in danger of coming apart. He quickly wrapped with skins his few belongings, starting with those that would be most damaged if they were rained on: a few books, a few paintings, painting supplies, tools. , he thought. ------------------------------------------------------------ Construction was not one of Kaalzic's strong points. He had been proud of his little wooden cabin, having never built anything else in his life, but now he wasn't sure whether it would be easier to repair it or to pull it apart and start again. He searched through the wreckage and found his backpack and a few valuables, and soon he was on his way towards the city. ------------------------------------------------------------ He had to deviate significantly from his usual route. The tall tree just inside the city wall, near the place where he always climbed, had handled the storm surprisingly well, but many of the roofs along the way were badly damaged. In the end he had to travel at street level for much of the way, which was irritating because it was only shortly after dark, and many people were still awake and in the streets. He was particularly disturbed by the fact that one building was missing exactly the corner of roof from which he usually jumped in order to land on the roof of the Dragon's Inn. He couldn't help looking around, even though he knew that none of the other buildings were close enough to the Inn for him to get to the roof. ------------------------------------------------------------ Drin -- ^..^ / | Dan Peters | | /_/\_____/ | | "Dragons is _so_ stupid." | /\ /\ |peters@physics.ubc.ca| | / \ / \ | | - Yosemite Sam | MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir) Subject: [Sorc] Magical background Message-ID: Date: Tue, 20 Apr 1993 13:36:11 GMT Talon looked around. He was in a small house in the South of Magira, and outside the magical chaos reigned supreme. There were frequent explosions all the time, and the city looked and felt just plain weird. Side effects of magic were not very pretty at all. Here, he had fled with Saoirse, the Magician, deaf as she was. He could taste the magic in the air. There was no doubt about it. This place could reach a critical mass within hours. And that was not good. Not good for the city or the plains around it for hundreds - no, thousands of miles. Nexus itself would suffer severe andf nasty climate changes. He was surprised that it hadn't been noticed across the globe by more astute mages. No doubt it would be soon enough. The woman came in. She had her head ducked down, just in case. 'Talon ', she said into his mind, ' we are currently in the house of a former friend of mine, Gazral the Alchemist.' "Former ?" Talon asked in a whisper. 'He has fallen victim to the war', she was obviously holding back her emotions, keeping them in check only barely. "I see. I am sorry, Saoirse." She just smiled briefly and bit her lip. A tear rolled down her cheek. "Saoirse, there is something that I must ask you. I realise it is not the best of times, but I feel-" 'Ask' "Oh. What is it that keeps such magical activity from overflowing and obliterating the city right now. It should have happened hours ago." 'Parma Magica is it's name. It is an in-built defense that the Academy developed or learned hundreds of years ago. All the Academicians know it's use. It is a technique of magic resistance, so to speak. It will delay any critical effects from over flowing for quite some time. Hours at least. Talon, we must make our way to meet with one or other side of this tragic conflict quickly. Before something very regrettable happens that we would all mourn ' Talon nodded once. Saoirse then stood up and weaved her hands in motions that Talon had never seen before. 'I am protecting us with Parma. It would be advisable for you to weave your own protections as well' Talon did so, without wasting any time. He also cast a spell that rendered both him and Saoirse invisible. 'Let's go now.' -- 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 MagicHutchHeader From: ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu (The Dreamer) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Storm] Kadrys: Home is the vampire, home from the sea... Message-ID: <93110.091446ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Date: 20 Apr 93 13:14:46 GMT Posted on behalf of Andrea Evans At last. Veiled by the spray cast up by the pounding waves, the coastline of Generica rose slowly into view. Though his recent contact with the men of the "Gentle Zephyr" had ensured that Kadrys was no longer nearing the end of his strength, he was certainly not burning with energy as he had been when he had set out hours ago. Instead of the exuberant, deadly swiftness of a hunting falcon, his flight now more resembled the steady, dogged hoisting of a raven returning to its evening roost. He crossed the coastline well to the south of the city, careful to leave a wide berth between himself and the storm. From afar he watched the titanic struggle, the waterspouts and tsunami dwarfed by distance, the wall of the Vortegei spell holding, straining, then weakened past the point of collapse by the force of the storm. Fortunately, the effort of breaking the spell had clearly weakened the storm in turn. Then, the beacons of the seaward towers ignited, bursting into sudden brilliance like burning metal. But there was one too many lights. Then he realised that the brightest blaze was coming from the lookout atop 'Raelf and ar'Elya's home. The tower where 'Raelf had unburdened himself to Kadrys, and where he had given the 'kan what little comfort he could, the lookout 'Raelf had selected for its quiet and seclusion, was now flaring like a sun fallen to earth. Kadrys looked away, fearing for his sensitive eyes. Then, the lights reached out to each other, forming nets to entrap and master the winds, elongating into lances to pierce waterspouts, striking like swords into the heart of the storm. The towering blackness screamed in stunning rage, but bit by bit it was diminished, weakened, beaten. The rain and wind that eventually crossed the coast were no longer beyond the bounds of the natural fury of the weather. Kadrys sighed with relief, and began the long haul north. As he watched the outskirts of the town rolling by far below, there seemed little enough to be relieved about. It was staggering to see the devastation that even a wholly natural storm could wreak upon the city. Entire swaths of the old and rotting structures of the Low City had been levelled. Nowhere, not even the mansions of Merchants' Hill had escaped unscathed. He wheeled away towards the Elvish quarter, anxiously scanning the avenues littered with fallen branches and even occasional uprooted trees. A wide white grin, the first in what felt like days, spread itself over his bat muzzle as he saw, perched incongruously atop an immense column of earth, a very familiar tree. He circled once, peering into the windows to see a strange girl and the soldierly greybeard from the party, both safe. Neither Luthor nor Serene were anywhere in sight, and Kadrys assumed that they were helping elsewhere. Which reminded him... ... In after years, the storm would continue to echo in the minds and words of Generica's inhabitants, until in the end the embroidered mantle of myth would descend, enshrouding events and concealing their jagged edges, the dreariness and weariness and sheer hard work, from memory forever. In after years, they would speak of the way the familiar stones of the seaward towers had burned like coals. The way that sandbags had at a word become strong stone walls. The way a very ordinary street, thronged with the helpless and hopeless, had remained warm and calm and dry, safe even in the brutal eye of the storm. The way that ships given up for lost had one by one limped home. They would speak of the spears of light that had kept at bay the wrath of a watery hell. Many would praise deities: Issek, Aditi, even Aspiazu. They would speak of mages, of spirits, of powers that bore none of these names. And some would mention a thing shaped like a man that appeared out of the storm's darkness, clad in rags of white and dark grey as tattered as the stormclouds, a thing with blowing black hair that shrouded its face from sight. It cast aside wreckage with the cold efficiency of the winds, restored those trapped within to their loved ones, and then, without a word, was gone... ... A long time afterwards, a man sliped silently into the Dragon's Inn, taking his usual seat at a table near the fire, a table with a seven-a-side chessboard burned into its top. He kicked back in the chair, stretched his limbs and spine with slow, graceful movements, and heaved a long sigh of sheer physical relief at finally being able to relax for a moment. He stared into the fire, his black eyes slowly losing their former glint of enjoyment, becoming as expressionless as onyx beads as he retreated into his thoughts. 'Well, what came over me? An excess of energy? The will of the storm? Hah, hardly that. I'm not that important. To whatever that thing was, my destruction would've been an idle pastime. So what does that leave? A lust for _excitement_. _Folly_! Sheer blind folly that I _should_ be old enough to avoid...' A faint frown of distaste marked the stare, before fading away. '...I _am_ old enough to avoid it. And what would happen if I did? If I cling forever without rest to the logic and the caution and the coldness? The love of life, the empathy that is the heart of wisdom, would wither and die. Reason would certainly not last long after that. I would become that which I loathe: a killer without conscience or cause, a mouth without a mind, thirst made flesh. A predatory animal, to be noticed and hunted down and destroyed sooner or later, as predators always are.' He gave a short, sharp sigh and shook his head dismissively. 'To the pit with that! I have to stop berating myself and remember that life _is_ risk: it can't always be avoided. Sometimes I won't even _want_ to avoid it. It's the same old tightrope-walk: to stay sane, you just have to know when to be crazy occasionally...' He shrugged, grinning sharply to himself at the sarcastic mock-profundity. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: asgds@aurora.alaska.edu Subject: [ADMIN] Explicitness? Message-ID: <1993Apr20.113538.1@aurora.alaska.edu> Date: Tue, 20 Apr 1993 19:35:38 GMT I was just wondering how sexually explicit I can get. In my Mikar thread I will be dealling occasionaly with sex and wanted to know what you guys feel is acceptable... A- hints as to what is/has/will happen/ed but keep it all "off screen" B- Soft-core/romance novel level of explicitness. (This is the level I would probably keep most of my posts because I find it more poetic, and a challenge to write) C- hard-core/porno level. ( I would rarely be using this level but I have never written erotica before so figure it will be a hit and miss proposition the first few times) The reason I am writing these stories here instead of on another news group is that Generica is a ready made setting. I will probably double post to alt.sex.stories when I feel a little more comfortable with the style of writing. I am also adding a new temple to the geography of Generica, read my next post for more info. gEOFF MagicHutchHeader From: z_falkrg@ccsvax.sfasu.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [KJ] Killan and Jenever are still here Message-ID: <1993Apr20.151413.4231@ccsvax.sfasu.edu> Date: 20 Apr 93 15:14:12 CST As Killian and Jenever were walking back to the inn where Killian was staying, the bard was very silent. Jenever was also unusually quiet after telling of the impending birth of the children . . . his children. "I am going to be a father. The kittens are due soon.", Killian said. Half stating the facts and halfway trying to convince himself that it was real and not another drunken hallucination. "Kittens?" Jenever asked with a puzzled look on her face. "Sorry mi'lady. We really don't know if they will be weres until they are born. There is a good chance they will be humans, but the possiblity exists that they will be like me." "Has any other weretiger ever sired young by a human before?" "Not in my tribe. Father will know more than I. I haven't been home in so long that many things may have happened that I would not know about. Well, my father always wanted me to settle down and become responsible. It looks like he will now get his wish." A very hurt look comes across Jenever's face as she looks at Killian. "If you don't want these children, I will leave. I will not have my children resented by their father. It would be better for them to have no father at all then!", she cried. Killian grabbed Jenever's shoulders and spun her to face him. "Jenever! Where did you get such an idea? These are my kitt . . . children and I will love them as much as I love you, and that is more than I have ever loved anyone else." With that he embraced her and held her close. Jenever knew that Killian wanted to stay with her, but the reality of children weighed heavily upon both their shoulders. Twins no less. Would she still be allowed to battle, would she be free to roam ever again? In a shadowy alley, unnoticed even by the keen senses of the weretiger or the uncanny awareness of Jenever was a mangy old cat with glowing yellow eyes. It was watching the little scene intently. Across unknown distances, a maniacal laugh rings out over a scorched wasteland. In the middle of a desert sits a castle ringed with lush trees and flowing water. Though a lost traveller might see this as an oasis, once he gets close enough to see the trees are dark and twisted and to feel the aura of intense evil that surrounds this place, he would turn back to the wastes. In one of the highest towers the laughter pealed out again. There was a thin man with stark white hair with only one ebon streak to set it off was looking into a mirror. His ice blue eyes looked not upon his reflection, but at two young lovers embracing in the middle of a busy street. "Oh dear brother I have found you at last, and what lovely news you do bring! Your life will be destroyed and I will at last have the revenge that destiny itself has written that I should have! What better way to do it than to take away everything that you hold dear and leave you to suffer for the rest of your pathetic life?", Tarsis cackled. Once again, that laugh that would make demons uncomfortable rang out throughout the castle. Killian and Jenever MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: asgds@aurora.alaska.edu Subject: [Mikar] a visit to the temple Message-ID: <1993Apr20.125830.1@aurora.alaska.edu> Date: Tue, 20 Apr 1993 20:58:30 GMT Nikola was awakened the next morning to the sound of slow movements and controlled breathing. Mikar stood in the middle of the small room. He looked as if he were dancing a slow and gracefull dance, concentrating on every second of time he danced, on each and every muscle as it moved. The boy was wearing only his pants. The rest of his things he had neatly stacked by on a chair by the small table. Last night had been a revelation. The first encounter had been rough and a little violent, Nikola had been consumed with lust and had shamelessly taken the boy. Then they had spoken to one another for a while. Then Mikar had shown Nikola the tender, gentle pleasures that could be had if one was patient. Then they had talked. Nikola sat up and sighed. It had been so different than the other time... he closed his eyes to the memory of Achthyl's touch. Nicola sat up in bed, so Mikar ended his exercise and began towel off. "Well, warior. What is your plan?" Mikar grinned mischieviously at the big man. "I'm not sure. I had almost caught up with Achthyl when she place the curse on me and vanished. I guess I should try and find her." "In that case I have a friend who can help." "Who?" "You will see Nikola." They dressed and left the inn. It was the Happy Mage Inn, one that was frequented by young mages and scholars. They walked through the streets of Generica towards the wealthier part of town. The streets were very busy. People were rebuilding after the storm. Workmen tore down ruins while others layed down new foundations. Here and there were people selling their possesions, trying to rebuild their ruined lives. Most of the Inns and large houses were pulling double duty as shelters and hospitals. The had reached the bottom of Merchant's Hill. Here the streets were quieter. "Wealth has it's priveleges." "Yes, Nikola, and it's risks. There is going to be a big rise in the number of houses robbed in the comming weeks. There will probably be more muggings and dissapearences too. Bad times are also more desperate times. Well, here we are." They had stopped before a delicate looking metal gate with guards on either side. The wall that surrounded the place was very high and made of a black stone. One of the guards looked at the pair and spoke. "The path that can be told...." "Is not the eternal path," answered Mikar. "But this does not mean that the path not chosen was better, merely different." "Well answered Mikar, who is this you've brought with you?" "Tom this is Nikola, a friend." The guard extended his hand to Nikola. "Welcome Nikola," they shook hands "Mikar will host you this visit. If you wish to enter again it will be up to Seline." The two entered the gate and Nikola turned to Mikar. "What is this place, and who is Seline?" there was a strange smell in the air. "This is the temple of Besht, the Cat Goddess. Seline is her High Priestess. The temple is alway open to worshipers of Besht. If a non-worshiper wants to enter the temple gounds they must come as a guest of someone else or have proved themselves to Seline. When this next door opens don't be afriad." Then the door opened and they walked into the temple. They were in a large garden. The smell of animals was everywhere, as were the cats. Nikola was amazed. He had never seen so many cats in his life, and so many kinds. From small house-kittens to Tigers, and there was even a Cat-man lieing on a couch reading a book. Mikar led Nikola up the path to a building. "This is the Temple. It consists of the worship hall, a gymnasium, a library, and a store room. If a worshiper needs to keep something safe, the temple will store it for you. This room we are in now is the waiting room. Sit on one of the couches, I need to give thanks to the Mother." Mikar went dissapeared into the next room, the curtain that served as a door wavering with his exit. Nikola looked about himself. The room had two doors. The arche that they had entered under, and the curtained doorway that Mikar had just left through. The room itself was clean the ceiling and walls were painted with fanciful designs. The floor was covered in a soft, springy green stone. The curtains parted and a beautiful woman came in from the main temple. She was tall, almost 6 feet. She had shoulder length black hair and incredibly green eyes. She wore a flowing drapery, and several pieces of jewelry. "You are a friend of Mikar's?" her voice was at once seductive and motherly. "Yes, m'lady." "I see, come over here." it was not a request. Nikola stood and walked over to her. He was a little nervous, she was a very attractive woman and the lust spell was very powerful. Yet as he approached her he felt no lust, but a respect and a feeling of being cared for. He stopped before her and she looked up inot his eyes. Her eyes seemed to bore into him, looking into the depths of his soul. They stood like that for what seemed hours, and then she spoke. "I am Seline, Priestess to Besht. You may have free access to this temple," she led him through the curtains and into the temple proper. "You may use the store-room to keep your things safe, and you may come look at them or use the library or the gymnasium any time day or night. If you decide to become a child of Besht you may also enter the worship hall." They turned a corner and entered a room full of sleeping platforms. "This is the shelter hall, if you have need of shelter or protection we can put you up here for short periods of time." she stopped speaking and looked at him. "Thank you m'lady. Tell me, are you always so generous to people whose names you don't even know?" "Yes, Nikola I am," she said, enjoying his suprise at her knowing his name. Seline led Nikola to her office, a large room with a desk some chairs and a large cabinet. Doors led to the worship hall and to Seline's private quarters. A few minutes latter Mikar entered from the worship hall and sat next to Nikola. "Mikar I am guessing you want me to try and help you find this Sorceress?" "Yes Seline, I would be very greatful." "I would also be very greatfull m'lady." added Nikola. "I will attempt it this evening. If you could come back at dawn tommorow I can tell you then." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kmwilcox@iastate.edu (Kevin M Wilcox) Subject: [Mr B] Dana posts a note Message-ID: Keywords: mister boddy yogurt eustace crimpin Date: Wed, 21 Apr 1993 02:58:17 GMT Dana walked in the Dragon's Inn and put a notice on the bulletin board. It was a small flyer. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* | | * Introducing!!!! * | | * Heidi's All Natural Frozen Yogurt * | | * A delightful new taste treat * | made with absolutely | * No Magic! * | | * Opening Soon on Dragon's Lane * | | *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* / K. M. Wilcox/ \Mister Boddy \ *-*-*-*-*-*-*-* "So, Professor Jenkins!... My old nemesis!... *-*-*-*-*-*-*-* \ We meet again, but this time the advantage is mine! Ha! Ha! Ha!" / *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* [ADMIN: Email me if you want in on the first day. I'm writing now.] MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kring@efes.physik.uni-kl.de (Thomas Kettenring) Subject: [RATS!] Showdown Message-ID: <1993Apr21.152414.2688@rhrk.uni-kl.de> Date: Wed, 21 Apr 1993 15:24:14 GMT When we last left our heroes, the Giant Rat (not to be confused with the Little Rat) sat on Bakr's chest, and the others were about to do something about it. When Steve Hutchison last left our heroes, Errol was running through the sewers and warning all the people of the upcoming storm... ---- Frubilupt the Evil Wizard Cliche, accompanied by his new familiar, a toad, sitting in his pocket close to the unaccurate wand of fire, was wandering through the sewers on the trace of the four adventurers that had robbed him, when a slightly pop-eyed man hurried by, waving and asking an incomprehendable question: >"Hey, you, how far am I from the gelunkencentre?" > >"Now you die, interloper! Prepare to face ... The Wedgie of DOOM!" >the wizard started waving his arms extravagantly. Errol frowned and >threw the stub of his cigarette at the man. > >"WEEE-na-chak-ah DEEN an (cough) chak (cough cough) GAK! CAwahhhhagk! >Blearg! hak hak hak hak wheeeeeeeze thud" the wizard was on his knees >gagging and choking. And the man was gone. Tears in the eyes in a red face, the wizard compelled himself to stand up and follow him. This was not fair! Throwing burning herbs at people's faces when they were taking breaths and casting spells! He'd get that man; the adventurers would have to wait. But he was not nearly as quick as his enemy, as his body was still shaken by coughs. ---- Git and Higar were slowly approaching the Rat from different directions, and Firgun searched his hat for appropriate items, when a ratty man with a forgettable face ran into the cavern and addressed the Rat, the hammock beneath it, and the mage in between. >"Hey, Bakr! You guys better get to someplace watertight. Big gullywasher >coming real soon!" > >He splashed on past, while behind him one of the barbarian ratcatchers >watched. "That looked like a rat to me." > >"Nah, just a thief, if it was a rat it wouldn't have knowed Bakr's name." > >"You sure?" "Uh... I d-don't care if he knows my name, but w-would you please now..." Bakr moved his index finger in the direction of the Rat on his chest. "What did he mean, gullywasher?" Firgun asked. "PLEA-HEA-HEA-SE! It's not important!" Again the fat mage was on the verge of crying. He had already tried several times to force his will upon the Rat, but it didn't work. He was to nervous, and the Rat's resistance was too strong. "Ck ck ck ck ck!" Higar, swinging his axe, clicked his tongue at the Rat, which had taken an interest in Bakr's finger. The fur covering the mage had now disappeared to a great extent, making him look rather scabby, and the finger was one of the naked parts. In the face, only the nose was still hairy, if you don't count the beard of course, which had not been made by the magic licorice. Bakr had grown it when he was eighteen, as he thought that a mage had to have a beard, though his mother hadn't been too fond of ... What? Not the right time for telling that? But it is more interesting than you think! No? Really? Fine. You want action, you get it. When I was young, everybody had much more time than nowadays. Always shoo, shoo, quicker, quicker! Bah! So, Higar got the Rat's attention. It looked sharply at the dwarf now and stood on its hind legs... Higar clicked his tongue a bit more... Git was now behind the rat and lifted his weapon... The duck sat in the middle of the room and looked from one to the other... Firgun, at the opposite side of the cavern, finally found what he looked for. He took it out of the hat, put the hat back on his head and... At that moment Frubilupt the evil wizard entered. Everybody was surprised (except Git who had his back turned to him), but the wizard was the first to grasp the situation. The gnome was apparently the most dangerous foe, as he wielded some outlandish-looking item he had pulled out of his hat, so he pointed his wand at him. The fireball hit the Rat straight in the head. Bakr was badly scorched, his fur and burnoose caught fire, and the hammock, already strained by the weight of rodent and magician, broke. Git and Higar were thrown against opposite walls by the explosion. The duck fluttered around and quacked loudly, having been hit by a flying rat tooth. The only unharmed member of the party was Firgun, but he was too stunned for a moment to do anything. His opponent was quicker. Frubilupt cursed and pointed the wand at the burning and wailing Bakr on the floor, hoping it would hit Firgun this time, when a large wave of water hit him from behind. The last thought Firgun had before he was washed out of the cavern was, "Heureka! So that did he mean by 'gullywasher!'" ---- Voop-ki the jailer was not happy. Commander Mac Liam had never been so angry at him. Was it his fault that the dungeons under Glorshanned Keep were connected to the Gaps? Was it his fault that those two pirates had killed poor Taeper and fled through the tunnels under the city? The Commander said yes, and so Voop-ki himself had to close all the connections between the dungeons and the Gaps. He put another brick into the wall he was building, got some mortar on his trowel, froze, listened to the sudden whooshing sound from the tunnel in front of him, looked in horror at the duck swimming at him at eye-level, and swallowed a mouthful of water that had come from the Southwest in a cloud, part of the Mother of all Storms, had rained on Generica, had flowed into the Ceruputhon River, had entered the sewers through a pipe and had gained the special taste of that place on the way. ---- Later, when the water started flowing back out of the dungeons, the rest of a not thoroughly destroyed unborn wall stopped the flotsam from returning into the Gaps. It contained: one jailer holding a trowel one dwarf, now no more smelly than anybody else here one unconscious big hairy fighter with a bump at the back of his head one huge, fat, slightly toasted mage without any fur one gnomish wizard staring at the walls and grinning enthusiastically one duck containing a toad one wizard shocked by the death of his familiar and unable to move the lower half of one Giant Rat. ---- They left the wizard in the jailer's care - he believed their story, as he knew them from the Dragons Inn and trusted that nobody who stayed there would break any laws (or jails, but that's another story). Firgun stayed in the dungeons, as there were wonderful fungi growing there, especially on some of the prisoners. Higar took the Rat's mortal remains upstairs ("Look! It was such a beauty, and now it's just the tail left of it!") and looked for the office where one got the reward. Bakr wobbled one flight of stairs up, then had to sit down and decided he definitely should leave this plane and get home. Git grabbed the duck and followed them, the whole time rubbing his head and asking himself why the rat had suddenly exploded, how they had got into the jail, and why the evil wizard was there too. ---- Trawm was skeptical. "Ah dunno if dey'll eat dat... it's too burnt." The civil servant frowned. "Come on! You call it 'sewer rat surprise', don't you? It will be a surprise, especially if you serve it to the dwarf at that table over there. He brought it, and he tried to get the prize for the whole rat. He seemed to think that the city wants the rats exterminated, so I should extrapolate the weight of the beast..." "Grakma? Sounds good," said Higar to himself. ---- The End Of The Rats Thread. -- Bakr ibn Ja'far ibn Musa al Mekneshi, apprentice mage aka Thomas Kettenring with a bit of feedback from Firgun aka Scott Bradburn (the other two seem to have important work to do) MagicHutchHeader Date: Wed, 21 Apr 1993 11:48:39 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93111.114839ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [ADMIN] Explicitness? References: <1993Apr20.113538.1@aurora.alaska.edu> In article <1993Apr20.113538.1@aurora.alaska.edu>, asgds@aurora.alaska.edu says: > > I was just wondering how sexually explicit I can get. In my Mikar >thread I will be dealling occasionaly with sex and wanted to know what you >guys >feel is acceptable... > > A- hints as to what is/has/will happen/ed but keep it all >"off screen" > B- Soft-core/romance novel level of explicitness. > (This is the level I would probably keep most of my >posts because I find it more poetic, and a challenge to write) A and B are acceptable...hard core is definately not. Penn State lost access to alt.sex.* because of the inclusion of pornographic stories. If I lose access to APDI, I will hunt you down and torture you slowly. I have never read a romance novel, so I don't know how detailed it goes, but follow the general rule: be tasteful. Plenty of romance can occur with a hug or a gentle kiss...going into bodily fluids and the like is right out. Love and Peace and Love <> Sex, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [MG] Moonlight and Shadows Message-ID: <1993Apr20.192753.9740@data-io.com> Date: Tue, 20 Apr 1993 19:27:53 GMT Sandra was standing on the dark shore of the Ceru, the dying moon lighting the clouds into molten silver all along the horizon. She looked away and saw a woman. A beautiful woman with white skin, black clothing and wild hair. The black eyes were kind and they were completely and soley focussed on Sandra. The woman smiled at her. It was a smile that crinkled the corners of her eyes. The moonlight glinted off the metal figure in the hollow of her throat, a loop over a cross. "I... I don't hurt..." Sandra said with wonder. "Are you some kinda magician or something? Someone'd snatch me outta the air?" The black eyes narrowed just a touch, the woman's face grew serious. She shook her head and sighed, "No." "Oh." said Sandra, the realization tightened her throat. Then she slowly nodded in understanding. "O.K. So, I'm dead?" The woman nodded and watched her. Sandra thought for a long moment. The woman waited quietly, patiently, and somehow Sandra knew that she was waiting for Sandra to be ready. Sandra took a look at the silvered beauty around her, remembered the pain, the desperation and despair that had driven her here. She had already said her good-byes. So, with a whole heart, she grinned at the woman and said, "O.K. Where to now?" The woman smiled at the question. It was a smile that warmed Sandra. "Here... take my hand." The woman's hold was gentle and firm, and as much as Sandra hated to admit it, the hold was comforting. There was the sound of wings... * * * A slender figure hopped down from the railing where Sandra had jumped from, savoring the power it had gotten from the death. If there had been anyone to see it, they would have seen a parody in smoke and shadow of the girl that had just jumped. The broken, swollen hand, the bruises, the crookedness in the walk that cradled one tender side, one of the two steel grey eyes with one pupil dialated to pure black. It... she... also had the strong, slender build of the young girl, the long, thick, slightly curled black hair, the heart shaped face, and the smooth skin that only the young have. Beauty, true beauty was in that figure as well. The beauty made the brokeness that much more terrible. Slender fingers, whiter than blind eyes, bleached bones, or frost, picked up five coins. It's first material offering. The little god of despair walked down the Arcade, being very quiet, as quiet as a once mildly successful thief had been. She had learned from the harsher lessons her brothers had died by. She had been there for the other three deaths. The fact of her being what she was had filled the events with a sweetness that she had sipped of like a black hummingbird at a blood red flower. She had witnessed the mob scene the first, impatient one had incited and the forcing of it back into the boring otherwhen of the gods by the firecat. The young boy's despair had tasted as young trust and love broken against rock and blows. The dismemberment of the one who had tried to take the white-winged one on straight on had been a shock. She had not known their enemy could rend as they did. The last, in the jewelled glen, had been the sweetest. The despair of the god of devastation and endless misery as it died had been such a surge to her that she had found herself with more form than any of the others who had only eaten of his energies instead of having them offered to them. She mused as she walked. That brother had given her much, though that had not been its intent. Without doing anything, she'd been fed vast amounts of emotional energy from all over the city. The mother with the fevered child. The hundreds in Low Town with little more than a few boards over their heads. The crowd before the filled to overflowing temples. The mage in the Inn when he'd learned of his friend's death. The blonde boy in Low Town faced by a ghost. The thousands in their holes in the earth as the storm had screamed its threats as it blew the houses down like so much tissue. Not all despaired, but enough. Not all died, either, but that hadn't stopped the flow from the breaking of hopes and dreams. Those caught dying in the ruins of their homes had been the most intriguing. She had sat, watching many of them go their slow way, and had only grown stronger. She hadn't had to raise a single finger, risk a single manifestation of her powers. It had all simply come to her. Until this girl. So easy to slip the vision of the river into that ready mind at just the right moment. Just as the unseen and unknown extent of the slavers was a threat that was so simple to magnify beyond all hope. Such tiny expendatures and such amazing results. She couldn't wait to try it again. --------- [ADMIN: Thanks to all who offered Sandra a saviour, and thanks to the one who said that not all stories need happy endings. So. And thanks to Bernie for finding a home line for Sandra, along with encouraging me with that particular little godling. If anyone is keeping track, make Sandra's oneshot a part of the Mage Guild line, and she's definitely dead and gone. Also I want to acknowledge Neil Gaiman as the creator of Death, a character I have attempted to render a poor likeness of here. ] -- Liralen Li | "What you feel can make it real aka Phyllis Rostykus | real as anything you've seen..." li@Data-IO.com | - Peter Gabriel, _So_ MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: asgds@aurora.alaska.edu Subject: A Guest at the Temple of Besht Message-ID: <1993Apr21.134120.1@aurora.alaska.edu> Date: Wed, 21 Apr 1993 21:41:20 GMT Seline said goodbye to Mikar and his friend Nikola. It is good that Mikar has found a way out of his present life, she thought, he is entirely too self-destrucive, no matter what he thinks. "Mother give me strength," she sighed. "Now, what are we going to do about our guest?" She gathered her papers together and prepared to talk to the Cat/man. The girl called Rena led him into Seline's office. "Please sit down. Thank you Rena, that will be all." she smiled at the young girl. "Yes Seline." Rena said, as she backed out of the room. "Well my friend, has the book helped you remember yourself?" "I am afraid not. Is this the only one about feline peoples?" "No, but it is the most reliable and the best," she frowned at his dissapointment "did nothing in the book seem familiar?" "Well, there WERE parts that seemed... Right, but I just don't know." he growled frustratedly. "Tell me again how you found me, it might.." "Yes, it might." Seline took a moment to collect herself and then began... "There was a violent storm raging around the city. I could tell that it was not a natural storm, but one created for evil purposes. I was in the Altar room calling upon Besht to protect good people and the innocents of Generica from whatever Evil was causing this. I had gathered a great deal of power into my plea when suddenly She sent me a vision. It was of you, you were at one of the sea walls a wave had just taken you and a companion into the Sea. I decided to use the magic I had gathered to save you, for it seemed that was Besht's will. Thus I reached out to you, and started to take you... You know, I know realize that I was one of Three forces trying to latch onto you. There was I, the Storm, and someone else..." "We must find this third person, they might know me!" "Yes, but we must be cautious, your past might not be a pleasant one. I will send out my eyes to search the city for anyone who may know you." Cats overrun the city. -A Special to the Generican Examiner In the last two days the number of cats in the city of Genrica seems to have doubled. From every quarter of the city reports have come in of large numbers of cats roaming the streets. "They seem to be looking for something," said Maegtha Hawrkries, 102, a member of the Merchants Guild. ... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: Re: [ADMIN] Explicitness? Message-ID: References: <1993Apr20.113538.1@aurora.alaska.edu> Date: Wed, 21 Apr 1993 23:05:13 GMT asgds@aurora.alaska.edu writes: > I was just wondering how sexually explicit I can get. In my Mikar >thread I will be dealling occasionaly with sex and wanted to know what you guys >feel is acceptable... You'll get complaints from people whoi think that Mikar being a catamite is a horrible thing and keep it off the net. Fooey on them. However, you should probably not go beyond "Romance novel" - while risque' topics are fine, and speculation happens, the actual details and explicit descriptions are usually kind of pedestrian. Hutch ('Raelf) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: asgds@aurora.alaska.edu Subject: ADMIN- explicitness take-2 Message-ID: <1993Apr21.162521.1@aurora.alaska.edu> Date: Thu, 22 Apr 1993 00:25:21 GMT For those of you who were wondering what I meant by "explicit" scenes, I have posted the first installment of Mikar and Nikola's first evening together on Alt.Sex.Stories. Read and Enjoy, Geoff MagicHutchHeader From: fogelinc@pt.Cyanamid.COM (Carl Fogelin) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Storm][Observer] Oh so close... Date: 22 Apr 1993 02:06:12 GMT Message-ID: <1r4uik$ik6@c3po.jvnc.net> It was a good thing that the child was light. Otherwise he would have had severe trouble carrying her. While it was true that Crombie's "magic dampening" field filtered out almost all of the storms affects, he still had to wade through the flooding. He'd decided to wade down the middle of the street, hoping he could avoid most of the debris, but the water was already up to his knees, and every so often something solid would smack his shins. 'Might as well kill two birds with one stone' he thought, and continued his discussion on the storm's effects into his mike. He was now on the outskirts of the area called the "Low City", the ghetto of the city. The place was taking a pounding -- most buildings were either crashed in on theirselves, or in the process off falling in. 'Such devestation' thought Crombie. 'If this is what magic can work, he didn't want it.' Just then the elven child opened her eyes and looked at Crombie. 'Hmmm, well if my research is true, her race is closely twined with magic. I guess their's some things good about magic after all.' "How are you doing?" Crombie asked the girl. She was looking a little nauseous, as if something was upsetting her stomach. He wondered if maybe her appenix had ruptured... 'Do elves have an appendix?' There was so much more he had to learn about this world. He rounded a corner and was greeted with the sight of a large shimmering dome which covered the street. The dome seemed to be in sections, scarlett seams which were holding the magical pieces together. Below the dome were hundreds, maybe thousands of people, and the dome was protecting them from the effects of the storm. 'What is this!' thought Crombie. Shifting the child over to one side, he pulled one of his metered boxes out and aimed it at the dome. He read the readings into the mike, and started to describe in great detail this wonderous sight. He had to be in the temple district. This magic reeked of ghod intervention. Just then something moved on his side -- the girl! He'd forgotten the injured elven girl. Quickly resettling her more securely in his arms, he plunged onwards toward the dome. As he got nearer, he encountered a strange sort of resistance. It was as if something was pushing back. He had to get through... the girl... Straining as hard as he could, he got three feet closer before his head started to spin. The girl was becoming VERY heavy, and he felt like he might pass-out. With what strength he could muster, he yelled "HELP", and sank to one knee in the swirling water in a daze. ***** Father Kraton was extremely busy, coordinating Issek's minions to help those in need during the storm. Periodically he would look up at the dome and marvel at his god's solution to the current crisis, and mumble a prayer of thanks. But then another problem would arise and off he would go. He and the other priests had been at it for the last 6 hours and he was starting to tire. There were so many injured... so many ill... so many dispairing... so few of them to do the work... There was Father Dolorus, a pillar of strength, holding his edge of the ribboned dome high, a symbol of determination, of defiance to the storm. And then there were the other temple's priests. It was truly an amazing sight, seeing those of different beliefs joined together in this time of struggle. 'Sigh...' thought Kraton, 'there is more work to do. It is the will of Issek.' A commotion near an edge of the dome caught Father Kraton's attention. People were muttering about some apparition calling for help. Apparition or not, when help was needed, the Temple of Ilmater was there. Threading his way carefully through the people he came to the edge of the dome and looked out. He saw a strangely dressed man holding a small child in his hands, half kneeling in the flooded street, not ten feet away from the dome. He seemed to have some sort of magical field around him, because neither the rain nor the wind were hitting him. He was also muttering something... help?... yes, help. Father Kraton cupped his hands and yelled "Son, get under the dome!" The fellow looked slowly up and his eyes seemed to focus, briefly. "Can't make it..." was all he said, and his head drooped down. Father Kraton muttered under his breath, and then quickly prayed for forgiveness for his weakness and strength to help him through. With that he plunged out into the full force of the gail towards the man. ***** When he came in contact with Crombie's "magic dampening" field, Father Kraton's stomach flip-flopped. Never in Minnus Kraton's 47 years had he ever felt anything like that. Quickly stepping out of the field, he yelled "Son, lower your magic shield... I can't get to you until you lower that shield." "Huh..." mumbled Crombie. 'Someone say something?' He was so tired. "...magic shield... shield... ummm... field!" Reaching down towards a pocket, Crombie tried to get his ring, but he couldn't open the flap. Looking at the child, he said "ring in pocket... put on... me..." and he pointed a finger towards her. She looked at him strangely, but reached down to his pocket and pulled out a simple silver ring. Looking back at him, then at his finger, she slowly put the ring on his extended finger. The "dampening field" quickly collapsed around Crombie and the pair were hit by the full force of the storm. The shock of containing his anti-magic and his weakened strength caused Crombie to pass out. The pair crumpled into the flood water as Father Kraton raced towards them. [ ADMIN: Father Minnus Kraton is a NPC priest of the Temple of Ilmater. ] [ He's basically mid-level within the order, and is coordinating the ] [ activity of other priests of Issek while High Priest Liamus Dolorus ] [ is doing his part in the dome. ] --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Carl Fogelin (fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com) "All opinions are strictly mine" Up the long ladder and down the short rope, To Hell with King Billy and God bless the Pope. -- traditional MagicHutchHeader From: hilanse@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [WQ] Wonko Dies Message-ID: <1993Apr21.213828.6942@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 21 Apr 93 21:38:28 CDT Eldarath had taken shelter on the sidewalk through the worst of the storm, he had seen the entranceway to the Inn and Out collapse on Wonko, then watched as a strange lizard clambered out of the wreckage and perched atop the mound of rubble. There was little hope that Wonko had survived, as the pile of wood and mortar that covered him must have weighed at least half a ton. Eldarath struggled forward from his crevice, his body still stinging from the small pieces of debris that had struck him during the storm. Before Eldarath reached the pile, the lizard that had been sitting there crawled off and down the street towards a collapsed tower. Eldarath began digging through the rubble and he came upon a foot clad in a leather deck shoe, he continued digging farther into the debris until he had unearthed Wonko, whose legs were bent at strange angles, and with a bloody wound on his forehead. Eldarath noted that Wonko's skin was pale, and clammy to the touch. He pulled Wonko from the rubble pile and laid him out on the now sunny street, and checked for signs of life. Wonko had no pulse or breathing, and his body was cooling rapidly. Eldarath mourned the loss of his friend, kneeling over the pile and Wonko's body, remembering the adventures they had shared when he felt an uncomfortable warmth at his back. He removed his pack, and looking inside, he found the source of the illumination. The gem he had found, shortly after the incident at the bridge was glowing brightly, and the inside of the pack felt like an oven. Eldarath's mind was filled with an irresistible urge to grasp the sphere, and as he touched it his body was filled with fire and his vision became a red haze, then, as he held the sphere in both hands, he caught a glimpse of the power that drove the planes. The fire that coursed through his body reached a peak and then he blacked out, overcome by the sphere's power. Wonko blinked, and then tried to sit up, the effect of this action was to aggravate a heretofore unnoticed headache. His eyes tried to focus and he saw the sun in the sky and the wetness under his body. He slowly turned his head to the right and saw the prone body of Eldarath, holding onto a spherical gem. Wonko sat up slowly, to avoid passing out from pain, and tried to lift himself to his feet when he realized that his legs weren't anywhere near as sturdy as they used to be. He fell back down and spent another minute contemplating the importance of patience. He now remembered some of what had happened to him, and he scooted to Eldarath's side while trying not to move the lower part of his body. He was almost successful, until one of his feet fell off of a rock it had been sitting on, and one of his broken legs hit the ground with a thump. Wonko wailed in pain, taking all his will to keep his torso from falling back to the ground. He looked at Eldarath's body, checking for a pulse, relieved when he found one, Wonko took some water from the cobbled gutter and threw it in Eldar's face, who promptly woke up, blinking at the silhouette of the one who had awakened him, and wondering at its familiarity. "Am I dead?", he asked, "No, but you were passed out, gave me a big scare, Eldar.", Wonko replied. The incredulous response that was about to be heard from Eldarath was cut short by the lizard's reappearance. It ran down the street, then leaped onto Wonko's shoulders, knocking him backward into the ground and sending him into unconsciousness. The lizard moved to Wonko's chest and sat there proudly. Eldarath was still recovering from his friend's sudden not-deadness, and he stared at the sphere he held, then placed it back into his satchel. He reawakened Wonko and went inside the Inn and Out, to tell everyone the storm was over, and to get something to fix Wonko's legs up. Moments later, Athorbalo emerged from the rubble of the doorway and knelt beside Wonko, giving him a hug and allowing him to experience for the first time another injury that he had yet to notice, two broken and three cracked ribs. He stifled a yell and then leaned back onto the ground, exhausted. He heard Athorbalo whispering in his ear that he would be all right. Wonko fell asleep, as his friends and a few bystanders took him to the closest healer. Eldarath told no one of the occurence with the sphere, deciding that he would wait and tell Wonko when he had fully recovered. He watched as Athorbalo barked orders at the men carrying his stretcher, and turned, searching for a bit of solitude, he would return shortly, to see how Wonko was doing. (C)1993 Saner and Saner Inc. Wonko Takes A Trip -Whew!, That was close! --What do you mean? -Well, we almost escaped from this hellish torture. --Oh ah. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: B7P7 Subject: [Besht]: A night in the temple... Message-ID: <22APR93.04437254.0059@VM1.MCGILL.CA> Date: Thu, 22 Apr 1993 09:06:30 GMT The forest trail twisted yet again as he ran along through the obscene and twisted trees. The branches again began to bend to grasp and pull at the one who ran below them. The forest itself seemed to laugh as it caused the path to twist once again. Still he ran, not slowing at all as he watched the path twist once more before his eyes. Running. Another twist and laugh. He would not let it win. He would not quit running. The forest seemed not to care for the determination of the one who fled through its' domain. It wanted to play with him. And it would. Then, as the path twisted yet one more horrible time, the forest saw what determintation really was, and it was not pleased. No! he thought. The trail nearly had doubled back on him this time, and he wondered how long he had been running in circles. Well, he would end it now. Turning back to where the trail had turned, he began to sprint again. Even as the trees threw back their gnarled heads and laughed, he defied them by not running back the way he had come, but by leaving the cursed path all together and plunging headlong into the trees. In their surprise, they could not grasp him in time, and he bolted off on a crazy fartlek run through hell, dodging and turning, changing his pace to throw them off. Then it happened. It was innevitable. One of the terrible trees managed to bring its' knotted arms around in time. Yet even as he plunged straight into the deadly embrace, something _changed_. Not in the shifting forest, but in _him_. He ran on with a new fury and speed, easily twisting out of the grip of the enraged oak. He noticed that he was lower to the ground, and his heart no longer pounded so hard even though he ran faster, onwards to where the forest did not want him to go. Light! Light ahead, sending piercing lances through the hazy darkness under the trees. A shaft of light touched him, and he found new strength, new speed. With a savage burst of energy, the runner leapt forward towards the source of the light. Almost there... just a little further. He leapt gracefully through another blasted decay of grasping branches, then burst into the clearing as suddenly as he had left the path. A very strange sight met his eyes. The clearing was not all that large, but there was much activity in it. A huge bonfire rose up to defy the night, and around circled a great pack of wolves, circling the flames in a fast paced dance. The wolves howled as one as he joined them, swept up in the lupine dance. As he ran heedlessly around the raging flames, he looked deep within the fiery depths. There was something... something concealed behind the hungry fingers of flame. There... He saw but a glimpse, too fleeting to focus on it. Then the flames gave way once more, for but a moment longer. Tied to a tree in the center of the flames was a large man. No, a beast... or both. I raised a bloodied muzzle to the bleeding night sky and sent a savage roar up with the smoke and fire. After the moment, the flames fell back and the beast was hidden from his view. Onward he ran, running with the wolves of night. They circled faster, faster, becoming but a grey and white streak, with an orange fleck somewhere among it. As the pace of the dance increased, so too did the fury of the fire. A dark mist began to creep into the clearing, welling up from the very ground itself. He looked out away from the fire, for it would show him no more, and watched the approaching mist. It came at him almost as a wavefront, thirsting, raw power. The mist... No, he thought. It isn't just mist. It _is_ the sea, and something lies at its' bottom. Something he needed to see. A black gloved hand reached out from the waves of mist, pleading, reaching for him. He stopped, letting the wolves run on past him, waiting for the waves to reach him. THey came with a great pent up fury unleashed, and the hand seemed desparate. He tried to reach out to grasp it and pull it's owner from the depths, but he found he had no hands. He looked down at last in wonder, seeing that he had paws, noticing for the first time that he had been running on all fours. He looked up from his astonishment in time to see the darkness wash over him... "Whaa...!" Heart thudding. Breath ragged, shallow. He looked around at the dark room, then remebered that he was in the sleeping quarters. He relaxed, realizing only then that he had been screaming. It was alright, he told himself. I'm in the temple of Besht. It was just a dream. No, not just a dream, _the_ dream. He had dreamt it each night since he had awoken in the temple three days ago. Only he'd never reached the clearing before... "What's going on in here?" He looked up to see Seline enter the room, holding a candle. The priestess had obviously been sleeping, for she wasn't wearing all that much. The dreamer smiled as he responded. "Everythings all right milady. Do not worry." Seline returned the smile, obviously relieved. "I was awoken by a roar... You had the dream again, didn't you?" He nodded. "Only it was different this time Seline. There was more in it." "Tell me," she said, setting the candle on a table and sitting on the foot of the bed. "It may help." "Yes, it may. Even it doesn't help me to remember, I'll fell all the better for the telling." He shifted over to make more room for the woman, the cleared his harsh throat. "It began the same way. I was among the stars, flying through the dark. Then, as before, I flew through a curtain and found myself walking along a beach, then into hills. I came upon a great battle field. A few others like me fought, and a wolflike man, and one with a great oversized hammer. An old man with a long white beard and flowing robes stood behind them chanting. He wore a vest and bag of strange scaled leather, made from a great flying beast that I cannot remember. Another stood by him, a strange and beautiful creature with golden hued skin. He fought with the others, his black and silver hair glowing as his sword slashed and hacked. Terrible beasts fought them... wait, I remember now! They weren't beasts, they were the creatures called Troll." Seline smiled, then motioned for her new ward to continue. "Then I came to the forest again. I ran as before, eventually leaving the terrible path." He shuddered as he remembered the horrible trees. "But this time it was different. I didn't awake when I reached the light ahead. I came into a clearing. The was a huge fire. Wolves were dancing around it, and I joined them. As we ran, I looked into the fire, and saw a manlike beast tied to a tree in the center of the flames. It raised it's bloody muzzle and howled when it saw me." He looked once more to the priestess, and she urged him once more to go on. "I- I'll try Seline. It was just so terrible, so _dark_. Then the mist came. It was dark and powerful. It engulfed the clearing and rushed at us, the wolves and I. Then I saw theat the mist formed waves, and it was the deep and secret sea that hurtled at me. A black gloved hand broke the surface, and- and..." He fell silent. Unable to continue. Seline placed a gentle hand in his furry arm. "It's alright. You don't need to say anymore if you don't want to. Wait until you're ready." The new guest looked up, searching deep within her eyes. Then he shook his head slowly, fixing his gaze upon the candle and not her incredible beauty. "I was a cat again, Seline. I wasn't me, after I ran through the forest, but a huge jungle cat. I even felt the change this time. It felt so real, so true- almost like it was something that I knew. And you said this afternoon that you saved me from the sea. Could that be the hand I saw? The hand of the companion you spoke of?" The catman turned back to gaze into her eyes again, this time not turning away after a moment. "By the gods, would that I could remember! I don't know who I am, or what. By the nine, I don't even know my name." He laughed bitterly and shook his head once more. After a long silent moment, he looked once more at the woman and spoke. "I owe you so much, milady Seline. Even if I don't know my past, because of you I still have my future. This is a debt that I do not know how to repay. I owe you all. Anything you want of me is yours, though I fear that I have little to give." The catman sat there upon the borrowed bed, lost in the eyes of the dark haired priestess of Besht, and tears began to slowly fall from his pale blue eyes. -Dani Treutler MagicHutchHeader Date: Thursday, 22 Apr 1993 11:13:29 EDT From: JILL <34EP2A2@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93112.11133034EP2A2@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: BBD preparations *Arienne at the Inn* Arienne had been a bit put off by that Lancos character, but had found other amusements as she schemed her own particular brand of revenge on him. Most of the veteran warriors had their minds on the storm that continued to plunder Generica-- leaving the young&green men with their fortunes alone for the taking A beautiful red-haired youth of pale colour and blue eyes had spent many days in her company, and at times the two were joined by a slightly older man with blond/brown hair, hazel eyes, and bronze-toned skin. What reason all three of them had together, other men could only fantasize about. Laurn was nearly a magic-user, and Darrien was quite good with a foil or bow, but anyone could see that they would be useless on their own for anything other than "look s". Lancos interested her...even more than the two slaves she had found for herself. When he returned, as she knew he would, she would pull out all the stops--and her two little friends would play along dimwittedly, thinking to keep her to themselves. Perhaps they would survive the encounter and remain with each other to commiserate on their loss and find solace with one another. Laurn waited in his room for the Golden One to return. In the past weeks that was the only thought on his mind. Darrien carried Arienne up the staircase from the bar. Both had been imbibing heavily of the drink she called Gumbai Smash, and he thought her quite drunk. Arienne smiled to herself. They really were good boys, and very talented. Maybe she wouldn't allow them to endanger themselves as much as she had first planned--after all, it wasn't their fault that they were born male. She tugged at Darrien's collar and pointed to Laurn's room, purring seductively as he opened the door... * JILLIAN MAREE THOMAS 34EP2A2@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU * * "I'M JUST A GIRL WHO CAIN'T SAY NO" --OKLAHOMA * * @>->--->----------- * * * * * MagicHutchHeader Date: Thu, 22 Apr 1993 14:03:52 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93112.140352ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: One Year Anniversary Coming Up!!! Well, we've almost made it to one full year :-) Most of the people who were there from the beginning have moved on, but Dragon's Inn is alive and well. I think we should decide on an OFFICIAL Birthdate for APDI. The copy of the charter that I have sez May 12th. Anyone have a better date for a better reason? Love and Peace and Birthdays, -The Dreamer- PS. Maybe I'll gift the APDI readers with my TRUE identity for the one year present.....Nah! MagicHutchHeader Date: Thursday, 22 Apr 1993 12:53:47 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93112.125347344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] A Rat at the Door [ADMIN: Or at least part 1 thereof. Thanks to Stephen, Joe, and The Dreamer for their input into this post, in ways I can't accurately express here!] The storm finally subsided during the night, its damage potential held back through both magical and natural means, thus allowing Generica to overall still stand. The sun appeared on schedule, and began to try to dry up all the rain from the land. The morning sun seemed to symbolize the end of another Generican disaster. Once again, people began migrating to their houses and places of business, and inspecting them for water damage. And so it was that the foursome of Darvos, Lancos, Little Rat, and Lissa aroused themselves, and dressed. Lancos was first to go to the main room of the business, and placed some gold coins and a note on the counter. The Little Rat saw this, and asked, "Whatz dat for?". She was impressed by the show of wealth -- she was convinced she had encountered another prince or the like --, especially if he could afford to seemingly give it away. Lancos noted the look, and responded accordingly. "Oh, I'm leaving a note about what we used, and paying for it. It's the right thing to do, Little Rat; we shouldn't deprive the merchant of his rightful earnings." Little Rat still looked at him somewhat questioningly, obviously mulling over the statement. Lancos sighed, his mind calling back to when he started trying to teach Brent about morals, or at least his interpretation of them in society. But Brent had been about twice Little Rat's age, had been used to someone "teaching" him, and that had been after a war, not at the seeming beginning of something. No, Lancos knew what he had planned was for the best. Just then Darvos came out, providing a distraction Lancos was greatful for. "So, how is Lissa?" the ranger asked. Before the wizard could muster a reply, Lissa herself came out, and blushed at the attention. "I'm fine. And I understand I have you to thank for that, for saving me." "No thanks necessary, as far as I'm concerned." Lancos countered. "I'm still angry with myself for even allowing the opportunity. But enough of that; we've things I want us to do today." With that, they headed out of the store, reseting the lock as they did. When Borret Skimer returned to his store, he would find _quite_ surprise, although his involvement ends there. Out on the street, they paused for a general gasp at what had occurred. The streets were water-logged; houses were partially flooded or outright destroyed; people were grevious, cold or sick, but nevertheless rebuilding. All realized that a disaster had passed through the town. Lancos realized that again he had missed the mainstream of defense, albeit again on a mission of saving at least one life. Darvos couldn't help but feel pity and a wanting to help. Lissa and Little Rat were more conditioned to the desolation, but no less sympathetic. Still, the world moved on, and so did they. Lancos led them to near the shore of the Great Blue, and then north. After a while, Darvos grew tired of his lack of information, and walked up to the ranger. "I can tell you have a destination in mind, friend." he said with the accent that was beginning to become familiar to Lancos. "Would you mind telling me where it is?" Lancos looked back, at the girls. When he was satisfied that they were too busy talking to each other to listen to what he said, he nodded slightly. "All right, but just between you and me, ok? I think both you and I want to find the Gutt Man and whoever he's with, and deal with them. And I personally don't want Little Rat exposed to any danger. But the way I see it, she won't leave unless she knows Lissa's safe, or feels she's doing something more important. So what we need is someone who will protect her, while making her feel useful. And I happen to know someone that will do so perfectly well." Little Rat paused in her near-continual bantering with Lissa and looked around at the buildings. She did not recognise the area. The houses were larger than the shanties that she was used to, so she thought to ask. "Hey Mr. Lancos, where is we goin'?" "We're going to the house of a friend of mine, Little Rat." "Do he live in da rich people's part a Generica?" "No, he lives up on the cliff there, just outside the city." He pointed to a ridge ahead of them, and the lighthouse on top. Little Rat stopped dead in her tracks. She paled. The expression on her face was a mix of fear, worry, and confusion. "What do ya mean 'outside'? Dere ain't no outside Mr. Lancos. Dere is just Generica and nuttin' else." "Oh, there's lots of things outside Generica, Little Rat. There's farms and forests and oceans and ..." he stopped, seeing the open disbelief on her face. "You is tellin' me stories... aint' ya?" "No, it's true." "Well, I heared dis story once of a guy who tried to leave Generica an' he tried to go to da 'outside' an' dis big ole lizard, dat were even bigger than a T-croc landed on him and put fire all over him until he died. I don't like dem T-croc's, 'specially if dey is gonna put fire all over me and burn me up. Maybe I'll be goin' back to da Low City where it's safe." She was looking down at the ground with a small frown on her face. As she spoke, she stared intently at the pattern she made there with her left foot in the road's dust. "Hey, we wouldn't take you places that aren't safe, Little Rat. Besides, my friend wouldn't let big lizards hang around." Lancos squateed down level with the girl and looked at her eye-to-eye. "If you really want to help us, you need to see my friend and tell him about the Gutt Man - he's a really good fighter and he can help us find where the Gutt Man is hiding, but you have to tell him all you know so he can tell what to look for." "You is sure?" "Yes. I could tell him, but I don't know enough about the Gutt Man to tell him what to look for." Little Rat pondered for a moment. "Then I 'spose I hasta go wit you." Along the beachside, they saw houses in various stages of disarray. This was where a lot of the destruction came about at; where the sea could wave its angry paw into the faces of the citizens. But then, after a climb, Darvos saw a house -- a lighthouse, by the initial looks of it -- that had nary a scratch on it. Darvos inwardly knew this was no accident, and that this must be their destination. * * * * A gentle chiming sounded in the lighthouse garden. "Visitors?" ar'Elya asked wearily, still somewhat drained from the storm, and still not all in one piece after all the Catamount Porter she'd had to drink. She swung languidly on a padded rope swing on the tree in the garden. "Looks like." 'Raelf answered. "One of them is Lancos -- I'd recognise that template anywhere." He chinned up over the edge of the wall to get a closer look. "Hey, he's not alone. Got a couple kids and a magician with him. So I doubt this is just a social call." "Kids? Hmm. I better get all housewifey then," ar'Elya said with a grin, and flickered into a shapely black-haired woman wearing a stylish toreador pants combo, her hair sharply styled in an early '60s roll-up. Also she was in black-and-white, a jarring constract with the colorful garden. "Cut that out. I'm not Dick Van Dyke and you're not Mary Tyler Moore." "Ooooh Ralfie" she sighed, with a tremolo sob. "Quit it! And no Marge Simpson either." He scowled as her hair went all tall and puffy for a moment. ar'Elya grinned and shifted back to herself. "Dooohhh! You're no fun." "This is no time for you to have a bad hair day." The bell rang - Lancos was a bit surprised, since he'd knocked on the door, and the sound was not expected. A shutter in the door opened and 'Raelf looked out, more for form than anything else. "Hey Lancos, welcome dude, didn't expect to see you up here so soon!" He opened the door and waved them all inside, to the garden where ar'Elya waited in her neutral form. "Greetings, 'Raelf." He started to say something else and stared instead into the garden where ar'Elya was talking to a boy who looked to be within a few months either way of Little Rat. 'Raelf looked, and shrugged. "Kev's a kid I met near Low Town, his folks are dead." Little Rat looked around at the garden, and 'Raelf looked questioningly at Lancos. "Oh, sorry, please, let me do some introductions. This taller, skinnier fellow is Darvos, a mage like yourself, although of course with a different focus.". "Pleased to meet you." Darvos said with a thick, Translyvania-like accent. Lancos continued. "The older girl is Lissa, a former resident of Low City, but now under Darvos' care. And last but far from least, the Little Rat, who you might have seen when we met William, or hanging around with Alfvaen." A cat came out from behind them, and stepped on Lancos' boots with claws extended, painfully refreshing his memory. "Oh, yes, and this is Bast; how improper of me to forget." Bast looked up at Lancos and rubbed his leg softly, possibly the closest thing to a forgival he'd receive from her. "And this, my friends, is 'Raelf and his lifemate, ar'Elya." "Nice to meet you." 'Raelf nodded. "Come in; sit down; allow us to make you comfortable. Can we get you something to eat or drink?" "Not pizza I hope." Lancos laughed. ar'Elya joined them, carrying a tray. She smiled at Lancos' joke and gestured. "No, it's tea time." She gestured to the sunlit entry of the beehive-shaped lighthouse, where a table was laid, surrounded by exactly seven chairs and a highchair, with a smaller serving table nearby. "Tea time?" Lancos asked 'Raelf as they were led to the table. "Veddy Civilised. C'mon, it's a hoot." They sat down, Bast getting the highchair, and found, respectively, large china teacups for the adults, smaller cups for the girls and Kev, and a bowl of cream for the cat. There was a pile of sandwiches cut in quarters, and ar'Elya was very patient as she showed Little Rat how to make the tea just sweet enough, and just hot enough. Kev made faces at the amount of milk and sugar that went into the girls' tea, but stopped at a gesture from 'Raelf. The Little Rat helped in her own way by telling the group to check the food for maggots before eating it. The adults did a good job of pretending to search their food, while the children did it with more conviction, being used to having to do it to food found in Low City. After a few minutes casual conversation, admirations of the garden exchanged, discussions of the nice weather, quite a change, etc., 'Raelf put down his empty cup and leaned forward, both elbows on the table, ignoring ar'Elya's quirked eyebrow. "So Lancos, what have you been doing lately?" Lancos laughed a bit. "Oh, just rescuing damsels in distress, thwarting evil-doers, and trying to not get too drunk. You know, business as usual. How bout you?" "Business as usual. Doing some consulting for the Mages' Guild, went surfing with Ray during the heavy weather, playing lifeguard, that sort of stuff. So what brings you here, dude?" "Uh... that's what I need to talk to you about. Privately." "Ok. ar'Elya, please entertain these lovely folks for a few?" "Of course, Rob." 'Raelf shot her a look, but she was just her innocent and usual self. He rose and walked over to the garden with Lancos. "Darvos, now that teatime is finished, would you like to see our view?" ar'Elya asked, as she wiped a bit of stray jelly off Kev's chin. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: Zenith Subject: Re: ADMIN: One Year Anniversary Coming Up!!! Message-ID: References: <93112.140352ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Date: Thu, 22 Apr 1993 19:55:12 GMT The Dreamer scribes: > Well, we've almost made it to one full year :-) Most of the people >who were there from the beginning have moved on, but Dragon's Inn is alive >and well. I think we should decide on an OFFICIAL Birthdate for APDI. >The copy of the charter that I have sez May 12th. Anyone have a better date >for a better reason? I'll delve into the archives, and locate the first article posted here. I'd suggest using the date of the first post as our "Birthdate". I'm not sure what that date is (it could be May 12th), but I'll let you know some time tomorrow. -- Zenith -- __ __ ____ _ _ __ __ ____ ____ | \/ | | _ \ | | | | \ \./ / | _ \ | __| Mike D. Bavister (RL) | |\/| | | |_| | | |__| | \ / | | \ \ | |__ VFR700 Pilot (Weekends) | | | | | / | __ | | | | |_/ / | |__ Zenith (.Dragons-Inn) |_| |_| |_|\_\ [] |_| |_| |_| |____/ |____| Mr_Hyde (IRC) mrhyde@netcom.com mdbavister@ucdavis.edu MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Andrea and Sheryl (Chris Meadows)) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Subjective Time; ADMIN: Books? Date: Thu, 22 Apr 93 16:55:20 CDT Message-ID: <16BB8EDF8.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: How much time has gone by; How about apd-i books? Hi! This is Andrea >Nicker!< Yes, and Sheryl, too. We're filling in for our author while he's, ahem, inconvenienced. Actually, he got back yesterday, but he's right back in the--er, ahem, inconvenienced again. This time it wasn't us, really! It was college registration that did it to him. Send flowers. On to our questions. First of all, this is just out of curiosity. I know that a year of "earth time" has passed since tales from the Dragon's Inn have mys- teriously started percolating onto this dimension's computer networks. But how much Dragon's Inn time has passed? I know that this may be pretty subjective, since time in the Inn is not a constant, but does anyone have any wild guesses? Enquiring minds >Whinny!< both human AND unicorn want to know. Second, what is the possibility of alt.pub.dragons-inn books? Every- one who's written some sort of, hmm, what do you people call it here, net.fiction(?) seems to be publishing it at the local copy shop. Un- documented Features (a series of stories that our author swears by, though we never really could understand them), Superguy...Now, we all know that the Inn isn't fiction (well, WE do, anyway...those of you who actually transcribe the tales may have deluded yourselves into thinking otherwise, but we characters know better), but we don't have to tell anyone else that. Why doesn't someone get ahold of the first couple of megs or so of the Inn and start editing them together into a book? Not only could it be published at Kinko's, but it could also be put up for FTP. Anyway, that's all from here. See ya later, and keep those posts coming in! -- Chris Meadows || Andrea & Sheryl CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || [AU] thread, alt.pub.dragons-inn CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || -------------------------------- CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || A supporter of rec.arts.creative MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: asgds@aurora.alaska.edu Subject: [Mikar] Message-ID: <1993Apr22.115733.1@aurora.alaska.edu> Date: Thu, 22 Apr 1993 19:57:33 GMT Nikola ate his meal in the Happy Mage's main room. He got more than a few looks from the staff and a few of the guests. I should probably learn to be a little ... QUITER in my passions, he thought. He had been approached by five different women and three men, all inquiring if he "would like to share a drink?" It's nice to be wanted, he thought, but I am fond of Mikar. The warrior thought about his relationship with the young theif, and about his increasing fondness for him. I am physically and emotionally attracted to women, and yet the lust spell which has forced me to take up with Mikar, isn't making me feel emotionally attracted to him. Perhaps it is something within me, or within him that is causing this. Then there is Seline. Beautiful, exotic, Seline. He had not stopped thinking about her all day. Every free moment of his day had been consumed with thoughts of her. Not that there had been many free moments. Mikar had insisted on buying some weapons, clothing, and suplies. He had also insisted on going out alone for a while to get caught up with the news on the street and to do a few errands. Nikola had just finished his dinner when Mikar walked in, looking very concerned. He hurried over to the table where Nikla sat and began to speak. "We have trouble my friend," he said "there have been several dissapearences in the last few weeks." Nikola looked confused. "Isn't that rather normal? Generica is a large town and a dangerous one." "These aren't the usual dissapearences. After I left you here I went around to some of my usual hang-outs. I looked in on my friends," at Nikola's look of suprise he smiled. "You think that life on the street is a lonely one?" Nikola nodded. "It isn't, you develop a lot of friendships and relationships, otherwise you won't last a week on the streets. Especially in this city. Anyway, over the last few weeks there have been several mysterious dissapearences. Young men and women, of various races, have simply vanished. The worrisome thing is that the vanishing people are all people who live on the streets, or are among the poorest of Generica. This bugged me so I went to the Examiner's office to see what they knew of it. There wasn't a single story about it. Then I did a lot of checking. All of the people who have dissapeared, about thrity in all, were at the age of the sexual peak for their respective races." "Achthyl!" Nikola pounded the table in anger. "Yes, I am afraid so. I think that we should post a notice on the board at Dragons Inn, asking for adventurers to help us on this quest." "We will do this tommorrow after we have spoken to Seline." They walked up to their room. "Well, warrior, what would you have me do?" Mikar asked playfully as he lay down on the bed. "Nothing for tonight, we need to find an Inn with thicker walls!" And then they slept. MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Land Ho! (isn't it time for a new thread name?) Message-ID: <1993Apr22.193830.5059@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 22 Apr 93 19:38:30 -0400 [ADMIN] As far as I recall, our little company is grouped around a table in the main cabin, discussing Quaeros' visions. Segoi is still gravely injured and recuperating in his cabin. Kyar can still only use one arm and the rest have pretty much recovered from any injuries. So we join our companions on the third day after the storm, ten days out from Generican water... While the little company talked in the Rhymand's main cabin, a cry reached their ears from above. "LAND HO!" A cheer rose from their throats and those of the mariners as one. They hurried to the ladders, eager to get on deck. Aleric placed one hand on Kyar's back, steadying his friend as he awkwardly climbed the rungs. Once they emerged from the hatch, they clustered at the rail watching the welcome sight of a shoreline on the horizon. It would still take a day or so to reach it, but it gave sign of their quest's beginning. *** Midmorning the next day...*** "Shorten the jibsheet and prepare to come about," the bosun called to the crew. The adventurers stood at the rail once again eyeing the dark forest rising from the shore in front of them. They were doing their best to stay out of the mariners' way, knowing they were no help. The crew was setting the ship broadside to the shore and preparing to drop anchor. The rattling of the chain as they dropped anchor broke the morning stillness. The captain approached the group with a hearty greeting. "Aye mates," the Old Salt hailed them. "Th' bos'n is lowerin' th' longboat now. If ye'll git yer gear we'll be ready t' ferry ye t' shore. Yer large friend'll go last so's he `as an easier journey." All had packed what little possessions they had and had collected all the packs earlier that morning. The Rhymand was close enough to shore for the horses to swim to land. One by one they were led on deck and prodded into the water. All eagerly swam for shore, amxious to be on firm footing again. Somewhere in the midst of this procedure was heard a thud and disgusted oath from the hold. Minutes later the captain appeared on deck, his whole back side covered with manure. He stormed away, disappearing into his cabin and slamming the door. The whole process, including carefully lowering Segoi to the waiting longboat and landing him, took only an hour. The captain, now in clean clothes, addressed the group. "Now I'm not familiar wi' these lands `ere. I canna direct ye t' a town. Me an' me crew're settin' our agin t' find a port an' restock. I wish ye luck in yer quest." So saying, he climbed into the longboat and the sailors rowed for the Rhymand. Using the timbers left by the sailors for the purpose, the companions fashioned a litter for Segoi and set it between his horse and a packhorse to be carried. Aleric redistributed the packs among the horses to ease their burden. They set out for a ride to stretch the horses' legs and breath the scent of the forest. Since they had no idea yet which way to head, they stopped at the first likely site for a camp. Aleric went off by himself to search for deadwood for a fire. By the time he returned, Ildamar and Elanon had erected a shelter of oiled canvas on a wooden frame. It leaned to the ground on one side, leaving the other three open. It would serve to shield the group from the elements. It was now late afternoon, and the air was still warm. Nevertheless, Aleric dug out a small hole and lined it with rocks for a firepit. He carefully set his wood inside, ready for a fire that evening. The rest of the wood he piled to one side of the pit. When it came to making camp he was always a perfectionist. Darkin and Alarond tended the horses and made sure they were well tethered. Elanon had already made a padded bed of ferns and blankets for Segoi and was tending him. Kyar rested to one side of the camp gingerly poking his shoulder to test its progress in healing. Of Laurenth and Quaeros there was no sign. At least not from Aleric's range of vision by the firepit just under the edge of the shelter. Ildamar was now sitting cross-legged under the trees, playing his pipes softly. Everyone was relaxing after the long sea voyage. That evening, as Aleric was cooking for the group's meal, a shadow fell across the ground before him. He looked up to see what was there... [ADMIN] Mark? It's now or never... For the others, this is purposely vague. Anything you wanted to add before we left the ship or when we arrived has plenty of time in which to occur since I specified little. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: alden@coos.dartmouth.edu (Laurie F. Alden) Subject: [L&S][Storm] The captain, deserving a raise Message-ID: Date: Thu, 22 Apr 1993 22:47:48 GMT Coming back from "battening down the hatches" around Shadehaven, the captain finds a note and reads it with extreme exasperation. "Gone out to enjoy the weather, will return soon." He shrugs into his weather gear, secures a rope, tosses it out the door, and rappells down to the ground, muttering about wizards who do really iritating things likesuddenly installing a 50' high foundation but forgetting about the stairs. "He Could Have Added Stairs, You Know," he cried, to no one in particular. The chances of the stiars already having been added, however, are too slim for a busy guard to compel, and the ascent is completed. The Captain searches the grounds and heads for the secluded cove. Not finding the lady of his house in the expected spot, he will search along the beach until the weather gets too bad and forces him back inside. Hours later, Serene returns, greeted by a wet, cold, and irritated Captain. "You were foolish, nay, even reckless in your actions. You should have not gone out. You should have at least taken someone with you. You could have been hurt or blown out to sea." She looks up, her hair clinging damply to her face, her eyes not quite focussed. "But I did take someone with me," Serene insists, baffled. Turning to her beautiful daughter she tickles the infant's cheek. "You like daddy's friends, don't you, Little Wisp?" The beautiful pair, the infant and mother, ascend the stairwell of their house, not quite touching the steps. The captain silently slams his head against a wall. -- lfa@dartmouth.edu |I guess that's why Chief of Design - JourneyGarb |they call this the blues... Special Education - Norwich, VT |Time on my hands Instructor - University System of NH |could be time spent with you MagicHutchHeader From: hilanse@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [WQ] The Beast's Directive Message-ID: <1993Apr22.184534.6955@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 22 Apr 93 18:45:34 CDT The Beast looked back down upon the mutilated corpse of the farmer. It kicked his head twice, mooing evilly. It was about to take flight when it felt the heat of the sun. It thought that it was strange to just now notice that it was warm outside. Then it felt the pain, shredding its inner being and boiling its flesh. The beast realized the necessity of escape from the hellish light. It fled for the shadows of the nearest tree left standing, and once there, found some relief. The wind blew, shaking the leaves from the tree, and the Beast's frantic intellect cursed the Gods for conspiring against it. The pain had reached a new level of fiery-white agony, and the Beast's consciousness was overcome by instinct. It dug quickly, sending showers of dirt behind it into a pile, then, once the hole was deep enough, it crawled in, pulling dirt behind it. The agony stopped and the Beast rested, healing itself, before the dream came. The images appeared on the flat black wall of its consciousness, their vividness etched them into the backs of its eyes. It saw those it had killed, and the racial memory of vampires allowed it to see those that had been victimized by the one who had created it. It heard an evil chuckle approaching from far away in its mind, drifting through its extrasensory ears, the laugh was a warning of one who would come. The laughing got nearer, and the images on its mind vanished. The blackness in its mind took form, and filled the void with evil, the shape that emerged was not a pretty one. Its fanged, horned, ridged, visage grinned evilly at the Beast's fearful consciousness. "You do not know me, little one, but I know you." It said, "I have been watching you, and I like your style." When the Beast, paralyzed with fear, did not respond, the evil one continued, "There is one who would try to stop me, and who has thwarted me once, whom I would have you destroy.", the being smiled at the thought, "He was evaded my grasp many times, but you have seen him, and you nearly put an end to him." The Beast mooed softly, held in rapture by the evil radiance that came from the being, it was drawn from its frightened fetal ball, "I would like for you to kill Wonko The Sane, You seem to have a knack for that sort of thing. He was the one you collided with in the Storm, my storm, and he is quite slippery." The being smiled again, an image of Wonko imprinted itself on the Beast's mind, "Kill him, and I will help you to realize the full power of your vampiric nature, fail me, and you will face me in torture worse than any you might imagine." The evil one's image vanished from its consciousness, leaving a dark afterimage on its mind's eye. The Beast chuckled, falling into a deep sleep. It dreamt more pleasant dreams now, dreams involving the death of a viking named Wonko. (C)1993 Evil One Inc. Bossie's Really Dead! -Hey man, wake up.. --Wha? Hunh? G'way. -Naw man, look, there's this huge evil demon in the cow's brain man. --Is it anything like the one I'm going to summon up to kill you? [For those who read the last Wonko post, you are not going insane, neither am I, my term program's transfer protocol was just a might bit jumpy, you won't see anymore of that silly line-skipping.] MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BH][Storm] The darker side Date: 23 Apr 1993 06:20:16 GMT Message-ID: <1r81r0$jch@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> A man stood in the streets of Low City, his clothes and hair blackened by the storm's mud. Splinters and glass settled uneasily around him. Shadow and Cold. A darkness unlike anything Effandir Taredain had ever seen had passed over Generica and with it destruction befitting the wrath of a malign god. Seven people had died around him. One stood against one of the remaining buildings, impaled through the shoulder by a branch of a maple tree. He cried out for nearly an hour as the rain washed his life-blood away in rivulets. Five died trying to escape from the remains of the building on his left. He couldn't see any of them, but their screams were distinctive and he felt their deaths along with them. The last actually managed to crawl out of the remains. Ragged gashes along his left arm and back were constantly washed clean by the storm. He had crawled up to Effandir as if seeing the answer to his prayers standing before him. He died clutching Effandir's boot with that expression on his face. He allowed himself a smile as he surveyed the street laid to waste. It had been years since he felt this good. He lifted his gaze to the receding storm and shouted, "CYRIC!" Maniacal laughter released itself from his lips as his gaze lowered again to the streets. Once again he felt the stirring, the energy that had drawn him into the worship of his god. The power of death flowed through him. Life is a Swamp, and above the Swamp, there is Fog. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac169@Freenet.carleton.ca (Darryl Farr) Subject: [JOI] A Long Night's Journey Into Day Message-ID: <1993Apr23.071132.3670@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Fri, 23 Apr 1993 07:11:32 GMT [ADMIN: Okay, judging from the post I just discovered, this would take place just before the meeting, ending only a few hours before landfall.] After he collapsed on the deck of the tossing ship, Ildamar felt strong hands lift his wearied body. He felt himself being carried down the cabin stairs and gently placed in his cot. Tender hands stripped off his sopping overclothes and pulled the warm blanket over him. He tried to thank his benefactor, but only a faint mumble escaped his lips. He soon gave up his battle for consciousness and sank into a deep sleep. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He was lying peacefully on a sandy beach, the warm afternoon sun shining down on his bare, blue chest. He felt the fine particles under his feet, and listened to the waves rushing against the shore, and the birds calling to each other in the nearby jungle. He sat up, squinting slightly, and looked out over the waves. Nearby, a beautiful young female splashed in the surf, the water playing over her emerald skin. She laughed, and called to him, "Come on in! The water's fine! Wouldn't you like a little swim to cool down?" Tirana was always trying to get him to _do_ things. He much preferred reading about the world, people from distant Ansalon or Taladas, the wondrous creatures that swam, crawled or flew over the surface of Krynn. Ah, well, he _was_ kind of warm. It would be good to go for a swim. Besides, it was probably best to learn how to accede to her desires now, rather than have to adjust suddenly after their marriage in six years, when they came of age at 75. He rose to his feet and broke into a run, splashing as he entered the crystal blue tropical waters. He laughed, and tried to catch the shapely Irdaess, but she deftly slipped his grasp and dove under the waves. She emerged from the water about 10 metres away, having assumed the shape of a sleek, muscular porpoise. She chirped happily and swam backwards, beating her tail strongly to stay above the surface. Then, she turned and sped away, leaving a strong wake on the surface behind her. He grinned and felt his own body adapt itself to the aquatic environment. He snout lengthened, his arms and legs retreated into his body as a fin emerged from his back. His skin became a thick, shiny layer of hide, and a breathing hole emerged on top of his head. Shortly, he was speeding through the sea in avid pursuit of his bride-to-be. The two young Irda raced through the sea, darting around coral reefs and jumping through the ceiling to fly through the air. They played for several minutes, and Ildamar was gaining gradually on the lithe female, as much by her design as his. Tirana swam out of sight momentarily around a dead reef, and Ildamar's heart leaped to his throat as he heard a sharp cry of pain emanate from the spot where she had disappeared. He flexed his flukes as powerfully as he could, slicing through the water and around the pale, white edifice. He froze in horror as he saw what had happened. Tirana was floating helplessly in the water, a barbed spear protruding from her side. A fearsome, spiked fish-man paddled towards her and grasped the spear, roughly jerking the inert dolphin towards him. He hissed loudly and placed the the now still form under his scaly arm as Tirana cried out in pain again. He paddled off, briefly looking at Ildamar and sniffing in disdain. As Ildamar watched helplessly, paralyzed with fear, the porpoise raised her head weakly and looked at him through eyes, once bright, now quickly fading, and he felt rather than heard, "Ildamar! I live still... I am to the west! Come to me quickly, for I know not how much longer I can withstand the torment of this captivity. Come! Save me!" As the huge fish-man disappeared around the reef, Ildamar felt the strange forces confining his movement evaporate. He shot forward, after the sahuagin, but stopped as he approached the spot. There was no-one there. They had vanished. He shrilled in dismay and pain, calling and howling until he could cry no more. He felt his form lightening, and his spirit rise from his body, as if escaping a prison. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He groped for consciousness, fighting the webs that ensared his mind and dragged him down into the depths of sleep. He was losing the battle, however, and only managed to moan fitfully, "West...go west..." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ He stepped back and bowed to his opponent, the young Irda opposite him accepting his defeat gracefully, as was expected of the trainees. Never lose your temper. Losing one's temper is as good as losing one's neck. Ildamar turned to his next opponent, an older student, about 30 years his senior. Once again, Ildamar bowed politely and assumed a combat stance. As the two Irda came together, there was a flash of movement, and the fight was over in an instant. Ildamar kneeled on the mat, his elbow poised over the other student's throat, ready to crush his windpipe. He stood and bowed. It had been six years since Tirana had been kidnapped by the Dragonarmy during the lightning raid on the magically warded island home of the Irda. Six years. They were supposed to have been wed yesterday. He had immediately enrolled in the newly formed Seekers guild, created to search out and recover those who had been stolen, Those Who Were Lost. Approaching his training with a single-minded intensity unmatched by any other students, he had turned his formidable natural abilities to a different goal. He had forsaken his studies as a White Mage and follower of Branchala to take up the long-abandoned arts of the Sword, revived by the ancient race out of necessity. He was the best of all the trainees, excelling in every skill, from weaponry to hand combat, from tracking to the rare and powerful craft of the Shape-changing. Practiced only by the Irda and no other race on Krynn, Ildamar was an accomplished artist at the craft, having advanced to Adept level. He was almost ready to embark on the mission that would likely consume the rest of his life. Since the strike, the powerful magic-wielders of the Irda, among the most skilled in the world, had located many, but not all of the missing Children of Paladine. Tirana was among those of whom no trace had been found. It was entirely possible that she was no longer to be found on the world of Krynn, carried to another plane or sphere by powerful magic. Only his instruction in the many and diverse worlds he would likely have to search remained. As each newly discovered world was magically explored and searched by the powerful Mages Council, searched for the particular and powerful lifeforces of the Irda race, one or more operatives would be dispatched to various locations. Their mission: to identify and retrieve any prisoners or refugees. They would be equipped with powerful talismans, allowing them to return to the island of Anaiatha at will, but to do so would end the mission, possibly in failure. The Seekers were, one and all, determined not to fail... Eighteen months later, Ildamar was dispatched to his first destination. No sign had been found of Tirana, but he was eager to hone and test his skills, in preparation for the day, hopefully soon, when he would find his beloved and return with her, to retire to the island. He stood in the center of the circle, surrounded by tall, multi-coloured Elders, clad in snow-white robes. He carried his weaponry, and a few minor items to aid him in his mission. Anything else he needed, he would have to either find or make himself. The chanting Mages raised their arms in unison, their droning voices approaching a grand crescendo. Ildamar saw the familiar trees and flowers of his lifelong home fade in a blinding flash of light. When the light faded, he was standing on a hill, overlooking a small village. In the center of the village rose a twisted tower, black and jutting, insulting the very earth upon which it stood. Five days later, Ildamar returned to Anaiatha with a young Irda girl, not more than 30 years old. This was to be only the first of many missions... Thirty-seven years after he first set foot upon another world, Ildamar heard the news for which he had been waiting for almost half his life. The Mages had found Tirana. She was on a distant world called "Nexus". None of the Elders, or any of the Ansaloni White Robes with whom they were allied had ever heard of it. It was so many planes removed that the Elders were only barely able to identify the lifeforce as Tirana's, and completely unable to pinpoint her location. This would be the most difficult expedition of Ildamar's now long and varied career. He would have to search an entire world, with almost nothing to lead him to his goal. He prepared for an extended journey, spending long hours in prayer to the Seven Gods of Good, and the Seven of Neutrality. Despite his yearning to leave, he knew nothing could be permitted to jeopardize this mission before it started. At last, he was ready to depart. The now familiar white glow surrounded him as the Elders chanted sonorously, and he tensed in anticipation of whatever might confront him upon arrival. The nimbus of light faded, and, as in his first mission, he was standing on a hill. As he turned around, however, he saw not a small village, but a huge, bustling city. Assuming his usual human disguise, he started towards the city. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Blinking rapidly at the light which pierced his eyes, Ildamar gradually reached consciousness. Leaning over him, he spied the form of the mage, Laurenth. She smiled, "I just thought I'd see how you were doing. Are you feeling better?" "Ugh! I-I guess I'm fine. How long have I been asleep?" Ildamar replied. He noticed that the ship seemed to be sailing smoothly, towards the west, judging from the sound of the wind. "Is the storm over?" "Yes, it ended yesterday. You've been out for almost three days. As far as I could tell, it was just exhaustion, so we let you sleep it off," she answered. Ildamar considered this news, frowning slightly. "I think I might have something to tell everybody. Just make sure we keep heading due west, and I'll see if I can get us all together in the galley," he said. "I have a favour to ask." -- -- }{}{ When I was a little boy, I had but little Wit, Darryl Farr (}{) 'Tis a long time ago, And I have no more yet; The Grey Man }{}{ Nor ever, ever shall, Until that I die, ac169@freenet.carleton.ca (}{) For the longer I live, The more Fool am I. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu (Daniel Steven Reinker) Subject: [blade] Meshtak gets disgusted Message-ID: <1993Apr23.072335.25001@cheshire.oxy.edu> Date: Fri, 23 Apr 1993 07:23:35 GMT Meshtak the Draga, unaware of anything that has been transpiring elsewhere in Generica (due to his God being busy in other newsgroups) finally gets sick of all the other Blade Questors standing around and staring at each other. "Grot...so this is how it is, huh? All right...come on, Blade, Gortok... looks like we're gonna have to finish this ourselves." Meshtak storms off down the tunnels, Blade following him purposefully. Meshtak the Draga Who swears he will finish this or die trying!!! No more delays!!! -- "You can't help that. We're all mad here." - The Cheshire Cat, Alice in WL "Twisting under schizophrenia/ Falling deep into Dementia" - Metallica Subscribe to the CJ mailing list! Send e-mail to dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu. Include your e-mail address!!!! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir the Love Stricken and happy) Subject: Re: [blade] Meshtak gets disgusted Message-ID: References: <1993Apr23.072335.25001@cheshire.oxy.edu> Date: Fri, 23 Apr 1993 08:49:34 GMT In <1993Apr23.072335.25001@cheshire.oxy.edu> dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu (Daniel Steven Reinker) writes: >Meshtak the Draga, unaware of anything that has been transpiring >elsewhere in Generica (due to his God being busy in other newsgroups) >finally gets sick of all the other Blade Questors standing around >and staring at each other. >"Grot...so this is how it is, huh? All right...come on, Blade, Gortok... >looks like we're gonna have to finish this ourselves." >Meshtak storms off down the tunnels, Blade following him purposefully. Max snaps back to attention. His sensors were picking up a major disturbance up above. "Meshtak!!", he calls out suddenly. "There's a Storm blowing in from the north. Air pressureis off the scale. This one is going to be a serious doozie" With that pronounced, the CyberWarrior proceeds to follow the Draga and the metal monster. -- 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 MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Andrea and Sheryl (Chris Meadows)) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] [HouseStorming] [NKIT] Andrea Meets Azariah Date: Fri, 23 Apr 93 01:00:29 CDT Message-ID: <16BB9E2E.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> Keywords: [AU] [Housestorming] [NKIT] Andrea Sheryl Azariah ADMIN: Andrea and Sheryl here once again, with another exciting [AU] installment! Well, maybe not exciting per se, but at least interesting. Anyway, here it is. Our thanks to Geoff Stewart, for allowing Azariah to collaborate and writing the table conversation in this entry. On with the tale! Andrea sat in the common room, finishing lunch with her two new friends, Blaze and Lance. They had been talking together, telling tales of the past and of the defeat of Raoh, and were just shoving their plates back when they were greeted by a strange spectacle. A young man with dark hair, blue eyes, and green clothing stood in front of another table, kneeling and making nickering sounds. Sheryl nickered in response and trotted over to him, and they conversed in whinnytalk. Sheryl seemed quite excited. Andrea stood, walked up to the youth. He looked up at her, nickered, then cleared his throat as she looked at him blankly. "Hello! I have not seen a unicorn in many wheres or whens!" he said, sounding almost childlike in his excitement. Sheryl whinnied at him. Though none of the others understood, Azariah heard Sheryl say, "Who are you?" "I'm Azariah," he whinnied back. "I'm from Otherplace." "How can you talk my talk?" Sheryl knew it probably wasn't phrased properly, but she really didn't pay much attention to spoken grammar. "Because you're magic, and I'm magic," Azariah replied simply. He looked closer at her. That was odd...she seemed to be a unicorn, and yet...somehow, not ENTIRELY a unicorn. "Excuse me," Andrea said, a little frustrated to be ignored by someone who was apparently talking to her sister, "but just who are you?" "I'm Azariah," he said. "I'm from Otherplace." "And just where is that?" Andrea asked. Azariah simply shrugged. "Other Wheres and Whens." Blaze tapped Andrea on the shoulder. "Whoever this is, he's magical," she whispered. "He knows magic?" Andrea whispered back. "No, he IS magic," Blaze said. "Don't ask me how I know, but he's highly magical, and not what he appears to be." "Can you tell if he's evil, or has evil intent?" Blaze concentrated, then shook her head. "I don't think so." "Well, he SEEMS friendly enough..." Andrea said, watching him playing with Sheryl, who was ordinarily an excellent judge of character. She made up her mind. "Hi, Azariah," she said. "I'm Andrea, and this is my friend Sheryl." Azariah stood up, and shook hands. "I'm Azariah," he said. "Would you like to sit with us, Azariah?" asked Blaze. "All right," the boy replied. Then he turned to Andrea. "How is it that this one is a Unicorn yet not a Unicorn?" This led into a long discussion about Andrea and Sheryl, and Blaze and Lance. Andrea skirted around the nature of her and Sheryl's childhood and merely hinted that Sheryl's condition was the result of powerful magic, an answer Azariah seemed to accept for the nonce. Lance noticed that the boy rarely contibuted to the conversation, except to prod on one of the others, and for the most part sat back and listened. Lance decided to try and get the boy to open up. "So tell us Azariah, is Otherplace very far away?" asked the amiable knight. Azariah looked concerned a moment and then spoke. "It is many Wheres and Whens away from this place." He seemed to have trouble explaining it. Blaze spoke up. "How did you come to Generica?" "I cast myself upon the Winds." The others looked curiously at him, especially Andrea. "You rode in on the storm?" Andrea looked puzzled and Sheryl nickered curiously. "Yes...and no...I'm not sure of the words for it..." Azariah seemd upset. The others were silent a moment and then Blaze spoke up. "Perhaps it would be easier if you told us where you were before you came to Generica, and THEN told us how you came here." Andrea smiled a reassuring smile. Azariah brightened... "Yes, that is a wise idea." Azariah sighed, collected himself, and began... "The Where and When where I was before I came here was called Hearn." His blue eyes clouded over and began to turn silvery. "It was a large and beautiful world, with two large continents and spacous oceans. For centuries all was well on Hearn--the people were warlike, but basically good. There was little magic, so the people developed the sciences to make up for the lack. "With the growth of the sciences, there came a conflict between the people of the two continents. They fought over the use of Hearns resources, it's minerals and ores. Then a war started. The weapons were simple at first, but grew more and more complicated and powerful. The war went on for many years, each side coming to hate the other more, for real and imagined slights and offenses. "Finally, each side developed an Ultimate Weapon, to be used only if the other side used theirs. Then there was an accident. An earthquake occured on one of the continents, and it caused that continent's ultimate weapon to fire. Then the other continent's ultimate weapon fired. "The sad thing is that both sides knew that it was an accident caused by the earthquake, but neither could stop their weapon once it had fired." Azariah's breath caught in his throat, and he stopped for a moment, swallowed, then went on. "I tried to save Hearn, but the energies of the weapons hurt me greatly, and I could not help them. The planet began to break apart and I cast myself upon the Winds. I floated upon them for a time, then the storm that attacked this city, the magic in the storm, attracted me to this Where and When." Tears fell from the boy's eyes, which returned to their blue color. The others around the table were silent, each thinking their own private thoughts about Azariah's story. Finally Andrea spoke up. "You tried to save that world...How?" "I had spent a long time in the Where and When of Hearn, and had come to understand the...Rules of that place. I tried to use my magic to work with the Rules, but the weapons hurt me." Azariah wiped a few more tears away from his eyes and then looked up. "I am tired now." The boy looked to Sheryl. "Friend Sheryl, you have but to call me when you need me and I will be there. Goodbye, my new friends." And with that, Azariah stood up and walked out the door. Sheryl trotted after him, and Andrea walked right behind Sheryl. But when they got outside, the street was empty except for an errant gust of wind that swirled the dust and debris piled along the Arcade of Glittering Steel... -- Chris Meadows || Andrea & Sheryl CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || [AU] thread, alt.pub.dragons-inn CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || -------------------------------- CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || A supporter of rec.arts.creative MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir the Love Stricken and happy) Subject: Re: ADMIN: One Year Anniversary Coming Up!!! Message-ID: References: <93112.140352ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Date: Fri, 23 Apr 1993 08:53:13 GMT In <93112.140352ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> The Dreamer writes: > Well, we've almost made it to one full year :-) Most of the people >who were there from the beginning have moved on, but Dragon's Inn is alive >and well. I think we should decide on an OFFICIAL Birthdate for APDI. >The copy of the charter that I have sez May 12th. Anyone have a better date >for a better reason? > Love and Peace and Birthdays, > -The Dreamer- >PS. Maybe I'll gift the APDI readers with my TRUE identity for the one year > present.....Nah ! Hmm, I've been thinking that myself. I've been trying to schedule Sorceror story to finish on APD-I's birthday, so any other help on the exact date would be mucho appreciated. Hey, we've gotta have a Birthday Party!!! Right, here it is. May 12th, or whatever, is also the supposed birthdate of Generica, away back , and this year is the 500th anniversary. -Will the city recover in time after the storm?? -Will the Dragon's Inn close for a whole hour as a sign? -Will Rowan Littlefair ver get some sleep? Everybody will have to get all the adresses of previous e-mailers and tell them of this momentous occasion. Get the Kronquestors together again for a last bash, find out whatver did happen to Sunstorm the Munckin Giant, all this , and more , are just waiting to happen !!! --Mithrandir, whose real name is ************* -- 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 MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: smurphy@unix1.tcd.ie (Mithrandir(S)) Subject: Re: [blade] Meshtak tries to figure out what the grot is going on Message-ID: References: <1993Apr25.221234.24139@cheshire.oxy.edu> Date: Mon, 26 Apr 1993 14:59:06 GMT In <1993Apr25.221234.24139@cheshire.oxy.edu> dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu (Daniel Steven Reinker) writes: >Meshtak sees that Sir Tyrone and Max have come out of their >strange stasis, but the other adventurers are still frozen. >One mutters "Finals...gotta study for finals." >Meshtak shakes his head. "What manner of perverse wizardry >is this?" he mutters. "What was that, Meshtak, Wizardry?", Max smiled in a knowing sort of smile. >"Max...what were you saying? Is something going on up in >Generica?" He shakes his head, as if to clear it of cobwebs. "A Storm, up above there. It's one Bannen of a kibitzer too" >"Hmm...dunno how much time has past...feels like days. Mind >filling me in on what's going on?" Meshtak realizes that >while Max may have been inactive, his creator might have >other pawns, and through them and his link with the creator, >Max might be able to figure out what has been happening. [ADMIN: Has Meshtak become Meshtak the Draga And Insightful Person?] "Well, my instruments tell me that we've been through one of 'em vague time distortions that are very common to Nexus. Seems like a stasis field hit the area due to some fairly impressive Wattage going on in these parts and because sveral things have happened in person's inner minds, according to their brainwaves, which distracted them. It's called Real Life Syndrome (tm). Makes you think that all sort of normality things are bombarding you and distracting you at once. There's nothing to do but wait out both stasis field and RLS. Either way, that Storm is really blowing and I don't trust these sewers to hold for much longer." /WARNING.STRUCTURAL.FAILURE.IMMINENT\ "Bannen!! Meshtak, grab the others with me and let's blow. This place is gonna cave in, like, now. You too Blade. Move your metal ass." With that Max picked up the bewildered form of Gortok, and readied to run to the outside. "Last one out's a rubber chicken" [Activate.Reflexes] /Acknowledged\ Where Max used to be, he wasn't any more. Just a sort of hazy after image that disturbed the eyes. >Meshtak the Draga >-- >"You can't help that. We're all mad here." - The Cheshire Cat, Alice in WL >"Twisting under schizophrenia/ Falling deep into Dementia" - Metallica >Subscribe to the CJ mailing list! Send e-mail to dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu. >Include your e-mail address!!!! -- To those trying to get in touch with Mithrandir, do not email to the Address in the header. It is borrowed, cause my newsfeed has exploded. Email:tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie Thanks. MagicHutchHeader From: dshaffer@andromeda.rutgers.edu (Donald A Shaffer) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [blade] Meshtak gets disgusted Message-ID: Date: 26 Apr 93 16:10:32 GMT References: <1993Apr23.072335.25001@cheshire.oxy.edu> >analog, Sir Tyrone is glad indeed to finally come out of the unusual stasis >that seemed to envelop him during the battle with Blade. Still somewhat woozy >from the effect, Tyrone paused for a moment to try and figure out exactly >what was going on. Realizing that he was being left behind, the Wererabbit >began to hop after his fellows. Chip woke from his communion with the great queen mother to see that things were active again, AND that the soft skins were leaving him behind. QUickly he cut a haunch of meet from the lizard like things (remember those) in case, well just in case they needed it later. Besides, he kind of enjoyeds the taste though not as good as an elf of course. "Sso, we are 'oving again yes?" says as he catches up with the others. [ADMIN: YEAH! We back in action! :)] Don Shaffer aka Chip'CHirip High etc etc. dshaffer@andromeda.dshaffer.edu PS. visit Havens-Rest. We could always use more people and ideas. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu (Daniel Steven Reinker) Subject: [blade] Meshtak follows Max Message-ID: <1993Apr26.174820.29430@cheshire.oxy.edu> Date: Mon, 26 Apr 1993 17:48:20 GMT Meshtak listens, bewildered, to Max's explanation, understanding about 5%. The part he DOES understand, however, is 'cave-in.' Grot! Indeed, a strange rumbling sound is issuing from the ceiling, and from the howling Meshtak's sensitive ears can now make out, it sounds like one hell of a storm outside. Gortok and Arcadio are the last to awaken. Meshtak slings Arcadio over his shoulder and runs in the direction Max appeared to go in. Blade, seemingly unconcerned, follows slowly. Meshtak the Draga -- "You can't help that. We're all mad here." - The Cheshire Cat, Alice in WL "Twisting under schizophrenia/ Falling deep into Dementia" - Metallica Subscribe to the CJ mailing list! Send e-mail to dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu. Include your e-mail address!!!! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: Re: [JOI] Reaching the Promised Land... Message-ID: <1993Apr26.170749.7478@ultb.isc.rit.edu> References: <1993Apr24.171557.16908@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Mon, 26 Apr 1993 17:07:49 GMT Segoi went, though not willingly. After being carried off the ship with some great pain getting into the rocking boats, and then getting out again all the time clutching his side, which was as yet still unhealed. Grumbling under his breath he sat on a stump of one of the trees Ildamar had felled and thought... Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: Re: ADMIN: Periodic Postings Message-ID: References: <1993Apr24.224143.1780@atlantis.uucp> Date: Mon, 26 Apr 1993 17:28:41 GMT aaron@atlantis.uucp (Aaron Humphrey) writes: >Anyway--is anyone willing to take over the FAQ? I could, but a)I'm already >posting the Tourist's Guide, and maybe the Atlas, and b)this site isn't always >connected properly to the rest of the Net. (Ah, the joys of UUCP.) I'd prefer >to give it to someone known and reliable, e.g. The Dreamer, or Steve >Hutchison, but I'll entertain other offers if no Great Ones are willing. (Or >if Jeremy Nelson >is< still out there and just about to get access again and >start writing Zia stories with great fervor, he can take over again.) Sigh. I was afraid this might happen some day. OK... If anyone has the most recent FAQ (I haven't been saving them) and if Jeremy isn't going to have a consistent connection (and if he never gets around to having time for our Zia storyline, growf) then I'll do the FAQ, but only if Jeremy doesn't want to keep doing it. Hutch MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: asgds@aurora.alaska.edu Subject: [Besht][Mikar] Revelations 1 Message-ID: <1993Apr26.104813.1@aurora.alaska.edu> Date: Mon, 26 Apr 1993 18:48:13 GMT It is an hour before dawn, whatever this is it better be important, thought Seline as she gathered her swirling draperies about herself, organizing them above her black small black tabbard. "Rena!" she called. "Yes my lady?" asked the girl in her eager way. "Why don't you put Mikar and Nikola in my office and then go get our guest, I might as well talk to all three." A few moments later Seline was looking at the three of them from behind her desk. "This is Mikar and Nikola, they are hunting an evil sorcerous. Mikar and Nikola, this gentleman is a guest of the temple, he has no memmory of himself. Last night I cast oracles about both of you, The enchantress Achthyl is somehow in Generica and at the same time Not in Generica, I believe the spell she is using might involve some type of inter-dimensionl travel. If what I sensed is true, she is getting ready to perform some type of mass sacrifice. I dont know to what ends. She turned and looked at the Cat man. "You my friend are in danger, it is your fate to live a danger filled life, no matter what you do, danger is going to find you, this is only a temperary situation however." She paused, an Idea had come to her. "You said you owed me, do you still feel the need to pay me a debt?" "Yes milady Seline!" "Then will you accompany these two in their quest? I fear for all of nexus if they fail!" "Why all of Nexus?" asked Mikar, sounding very worried. "Achthyl seems to be trying to transform herself. She wants power, and she will do anything to get it. I believe she is trying to take control of the powers of the Shunned Center." MagicHutchHeader From: rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Stranger in the Shadows Message-ID: <1993Apr26.130731.6981@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 26 Apr 93 13:07:31 CDT Kyar gently prodded his aching shoulder. Aleric had helped him pop it back into place, but the ligaments around it were still bruised and swollen. However, he could move his arm now, and close his fist, so at least he didn't feel like a criple. The companions had mad a very good camp, with a warm fire. He scooted closer to it, and began to clean his blade, as well as the clothes he had been wearing in the battle with the undead. When he finally finished, it was quite dark, and several party members appeared to be already asleep. He stepped away from the camp for a few minutes, exchanging the flimsy clothes he was wearing for his sturdy adventuring gear-- The black leather leggings, black boots, and his deep, hooded black cloak. He sheathed his blade, and, pulling his cloak around him, walked back into the camp. Abruptly he stopped-- he sensed another presence approaching the camp, one that he did not recognize. He mentally reached for the dagger in his boot... It rose as if by itself to his right hand. He spun it into a backhand grip, resting the flat of the blade against his forearm. He reached out to the Phadra around him, making himself lighter, and lighter, then crept slowly forward, scanning ahead of him mentally for the strange presence... ADMIN-- Hey, guys, lets see some posts here!!! We need to get moving again!!! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [BBD] Rat in the House Message-ID: References: <93112.125347344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Date: Mon, 26 Apr 1993 19:24:15 GMT [ Darvos, Lissa, Little Rat, and Lancos are visiting 'Raelf and ar'Elya in the Old Lighthouse. Lancos has asked 'Raelf for a private discussion.] "So," Lancos began, "now that it's just the two of us..." "Three." 'Raelf corrected, kneeling and pointing to the trailing Bast. She batted at his finger, then went bouncing after a grasshopper in the garden. Lancos grinned. "What can I say -- like animals group together occassionally." It had almost been strange for him to see 'Raelf as a humanoid again, once his true cat-man form had been seen. "She thinks me a ranger too; and since recently I'm inclined to agree." "That's righteous, dude, but I doubt you're here to tell me you've found your true calling, or else you would've done it solo." "Too true. So, what have you REALLY been doing?" "Details? You want details? Well, let's see. Archmage Dasham wants to live forever and has decided I am the one to tell her how; Archmage Urcohea has hired me to do some repairs and general maintenance on the Guild building; I'm still making boards for export back in ss'ChshC'Kan, yes, I know the pronunciation just changed," he grinned, "the place is always changing to match. Oh, and ar'Elya and I spent most of the storm trying to keep it from washing Generica off the map. It was a lot nastier than most people will ever know." "It destroyed most of the town and flooded lots of the farms and you say it could have bene worse?" "I'll show you some home movies sometime." "Uh, sure, I guess. So how's the local business front?" "Bogus. Completely bogus. I was getting a surf-shack setup on the north beach, and there's hardly even a north beach now, much less the shack. Anyway everyone sees me surfing, acts like I'm out of my mind. Oh well, if I wanted to rake in the dough locally I'd just open up a convenience store anyway." "I'm not surprised. Right now I know no one will want to go surfing -- the idea of being surrounded by cold, hostile water probably won't _flow_ too well with people. And what's a con-veen-yence store? "Ooh. Good point, rotten pun. Score one for your side. And as far as convenience stores go, trust me: you're better off not knowing." "If you say so. Though that relates to my topic. You can't always be right, and despite your attempts, you can't do it all." 'Raelf looked askance at his green-clad friend, wondering how he'd managed to give such an impression. Damage control time? Lancos continued. "I was mainly wondering how many 'Raelfs were running around Generica. I particularly wonder about the immortality; it seems like if you do that for one person, many others will want the same thing." "You think so? It's not like I plan to make it public access, like the Joystix treatment." 'Raelf was grinning, like a cat with a secret, and Bast stared at him suspiciously as Lancos continued. "Sure. I'm positive basically everybody desires in some degree to be immortal, in words or deeds if not form. It's not always sought, but the desire's present. Of course, great things about my profession is that fighters don't die of old age -- either a weapon cuts their life short or they move to another job." A small smile crossed his face on this last sentence. "Believe me, I'm handling that situation in the most proper way. You don't have to be a ranger to have a code of ethics, bro." "All right. All I'm saying is not to overstretch yourself; the need of people will always seem to be greater than what society can supply. I don't expect you to _listen_ any more than I did with the medallion -- which was basically not at all --, but I feel better for saying it." "Point taken, dude. I'm not distributing the cure for dying, trust me. That would be what we call `unwarranted cultural contamination' and it would get me in more trouble than you can imagine. So not to worry. And I'm only in ...uh, let me see ... four other places right now. Anyway even with a mob of fresh-minted evil gods replacing a bunch of old worn-out forgotten ones, I don't see anything coming up that's as rude as that storm. Not for a month or so anyway." 'Raelf crossed his fingers. It wasn't QUITE true, because there WAS something scary coming, but even talking with the Warrior of Hope hadn't allowed him to see just what. "Ok. I figure I owed you the advice. And more, which is why I brought the others." He paused for a second, to sigh and collect his thoughts. "You see, the Little Rat is without any family. And while I know you're no boarding house, I also know your helpful attitude. She needs someone to guide her -- she found a handful of gold impressive. I'd do it for her myself, but I'm unsure I'm qualified, and there's no way I want to risk her being harmed in my adventures." "It's up to her, dude. If she does decide to stay with us, well, we'd be delighted. We love children. Especially with ketchup." Lancos gave a puzzled look, until he realized the comment was pure satire. He let out a chuckle, and soon the two old friends were deep in laughter. "Great!" the warrior said as the peal settled down again. "All we have to do now is convince her." "No biggie. Shouldn't be too hard." "That's what _you_ think. Those who live by favors can be difficult to give gifts to. But I did prime the pump for you - let me tell you about the Gutt Man." Lancos proceeded to narrate their encounters earlier, telling about the child-murderer. A look of anger crossed 'Raelf's face, but was smoothed out so fast that Lancos wasn't sure afterwards that he saw it. "Hm. Dude, we can keep her here for a while, but it may be harder than you think to keep her locked up safe. She's got a mind of her own." This was sort of proven when they came back to the room. Lissa held a small, red-gold velveteen dragon. "I wanted to give the girls each one of the Teddy Dragons from the Hostel," ar'Elya explained. "Lissa agreed, but Little Rat says she doesn't deserve it." "Well, we'll see about _that_." Lancos announced. "You and I have to talk alone again, Little Rat. The girl followed the ranger to the room he'd just left. At ar'Elya's questioning look, 'Raelf shrugged. "He's gotta learn sometime." "Little Rat, it might be wise to start accepting things from these people. Especially since I'd like you to live here." Little Rat couldn't believe her ears. An actual home, living with people like these wizards? "I cants do dat. Aint nuttin I done worth dis jeckt." Lancos smiled friendily. "But you have, and will. I don't think they can have children by normal means, and certainly no one as special as yourself. You would fill that role. They may wish to give you all sorts of presents, perhaps down to a new name so that they can feel you're their own. And you should be willing to receive them, for in turn you'll be repaying them by making them very happy, and their happiness will also repay me. It's the most important job I can give you. Can you handle it?" "You ain't gonna slave me to dem, is ya?" "Of course not, but you have to stay with them for now, at least until we get the Gutt Man, okay?" "Sure." Little Rat said, and impulsively gave Lancos a small hug before heading back to the room. They were intercepted half-way. "c'MON!" said Kev, half-dragging her towards the tower. "There's some really fun games in here!" "Well, _that's_ done. Now we'd better leave. Places to go; people to see; things like that." Lancos said. The group started to head out, but Lissa notcied the Little Rat wasn't coming, and inquired about it. Now it was Darvos' turn for an explanation. "She's staying here. You can probably visit her though." "Sure, no prob." 'Raelf added. "Send me a note - you're in the Guild, right? our aetherdrop is Lighthouse.guild.nexus." Darvos nodded. He waved to them until they had rounded the corner on the down path then shut the door. "Oy." ar'Elya sighed. "He's certainly ... energetic, isn't he?" "Oh yeah. Sometime I'll have to tell him that we already have two kids, back home. Oh well." "What was that bit about ketchup?" "Well, I didn't feel like explaining that you prefer horseradish." "He almost believed you. Really, you need to tell him some things." "But it's more fun watching him figure it out. Anyway, did you see what I saw? Around his medallion?" "Depends on what YOU saw." "Wonder if he knows for sure about THAT?" MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [STORM][WTRT] Rifts, Rain, and Ruin Message-ID: <1rhhpbINNn4f@news.gac.edu> From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Date: 26 Apr 1993 20:47:39 GMT ADMIN: Second try. I think my server ate the first one. Here I go again... ADMIN: This is posted on behalf of the Jolly Roger. I hope he doesn't mind, but I haven't heard from him, Wanderer, or Traveler in weeks. Here goes something... -Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur ****************************************************************************** Peace through strength! Victory through annihilation! Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** --CUT HERE-- ADMIN: [Wanderer Traveler Roger Thorr-kan] = [WTRT] : 'bout time we lost the Glysten header, eh? >Traveller (the Gold Elf) looks up at the three. "I cannot guarantee >your safety. But I shall attempt to keep the GateWay open. If you wish >to return, you must find your own way here. I bid you good fortune. >May your gods watch over you." With that he steps aside. >The four ride abreast into the GateWay... As they companions enter the rift, a storm is being formed. The powerful forces cause disturbances in the ether, making the wormhole even more unstable than usual. The image of the GateWay shimmers as the companions enter, but remain steady. It is only as the last horse is completely into the gate that the GateWay starts to hum. Traveller's brow creases as he moves to correct the error. The hum picks up slightly, and the Gold Elf now starts to look concerned. The image in the GateWay flickers once again, and now the elf looks almost frantic. His hands are moving quickly, fluidly, attempting to minimize the distortion. The flicker is now happening more frequently, blinking faster and faster. Images of lakes of fire, mountains covered in ice, ocean floors with alien life, barren fields of crushed rock, and things even stranger begin to appear, mixing in with the image of Wanderer's home. With a final burst of motion, the elf tries to regain control, tries to fix the image. For a few seconds, the image once a gain crystallizes. But the moment is fleeting, and all control is lost as hundreds of random places begin flashing in the GateWay, a mixture of heavens and hells. Traveller release control, and the images continue to change, energy flickering around the gold oval of the portal's entrance. The Gold Elf looks concerned and shakes his head. "I hope that they made it. Perhaps I should have discouraged them a bit more..." The Gold Elf sits down at his desk and continues his work, pausing every so often to look at the objects the minotaur parted with as payment. Traveller does not get much work done the rest of the day. --------------------------------------------- While the scene at the portal is impressive, it is nothing to compare with the what the four companions go through. Incredible forces tear at their bodies. They are _in_ the places that are shown in the portal for the briefest of moments as the image flickers. The companions begin to appear in a peaceful meadow, the sun shining above them. But things soon go wrong. They are subjected to the fires of hell, the vacuum of space, the cold of barren mountains. They are subjected to dimensions not meant to be populated by the likes of men. Their minds are subjected to alien emotions, to concepts foreign to man, to thoughts incompatible with our own. And when it all is beginning to become unbearable, when sanity is beginning to slip and bodies begin to break up, it stabilizes. They are once again in the meadow, collapsing to the ground in a heap of men, equipment, and frothing horses. As the blessed darkness of unconciousness and the healing embrace of forgetfullness comes upon them, they feel the portal release hold of them and moan in pain and gratitude. All of them but one. Wanderer moans, and it is the moan of a man in pain. But it is the strangely grateful moan of a man welcoming a different kind of pain, a pain that you know will eventually go away. Wanderer is home, and as he slips into the darkness, he does so with a faint smile upon his lips. And the sun of a different world beats down upon the four companions and their mounts, and time works at erasing the harm down upon their minds, and more importantly their bodies. More than the sun notices their arrival, though. Gods take note at the new arrivals. Most of the gods are ambivalent, but others view this with great interest. The beginning has finally come... Brian Shea taz@athena.mit.edu aka The Jolly Roger MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu (Daniel Steven Reinker) Subject: [blade] Tyrone speaks Message-ID: <1993Apr26.221853.9926@cheshire.oxy.edu> Date: Mon, 26 Apr 1993 22:18:53 GMT [posted for Jon Gad] Though still very worried about Blade, Tyrone follows Max and Meshtak from the sewers. On-route, however, the were-rabbit once again attempts to gain information from the Draga. "Meshtak...this may not be the best time... but...could you please tell me why in Torm's name you're working WITH Blade... and why we should believe you're not possessed like the woman you left at the Inn said you were?" As he speaks, Tyrone wills his sword to sense any demonic or diabolic influences in Meshtak. The fact that the painful red glow of demonic possesion did not burn his eyes helped answer one question, but the second remained valid.... -- Andrew Corboy & Jon Gad | Jon Gad is only recieving mail from acorboy@ux4.cso.uiuc.edu | this account and assumes no | responsibility for posts made from it. | Even if Jon Gad wrote them. ;) -- "You can't help that. We're all mad here." - The Cheshire Cat, Alice in WL "Twisting under schizophrenia/ Falling deep into Dementia" - Metallica Subscribe to the CJ mailing list! Send e-mail to dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu. Include your e-mail address!!!! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: acorboy@ux4.cso.uiuc.edu (Andrew E Corboy) Subject: [Sorc][Storm] Bad Timing and Good Luck Date: Mon, 26 Apr 1993 22:59:54 GMT Message-ID: The wind howled like a Banshee and the rain hit the old wooden pier like hammerblows. Lightning flashed through the heavens so often that it almost like the sky was blindingly white occasionally punctuated by gentle darkness rather than the other way around. Each echoing crack of thunder seemed sure to rend the world, or at the very least shatter the thick beams under which the Half-Elf had made her shelter. As the Storm of all Storms raged around her, Alicia berated herself for being so stupid. Of all the times to blithely wander the streets of Generica, she would have to choose the most ferocious storm she'd ever seen. Of course, she hadn't known the storm would come, or that it would arrive so fast, but still.... A flash of light over the harbor caught her attention. Not for being bright, since the lightning was ten times as bright, but for its color. In her experience, lightning rarely came in blue-green. Her curiosity piqued, Alicia meved closer to shore, somewhat away from the dryer spots where she had been sitting. The effect had faded almost immediately, and whatever caused it was soon lost in the storm tossed sea. Sighing in disappointment, Alicia began to turn away, but on a whim spared one more glance out where she had seen the light, only this time using the Elven Sight she had inherited from her mother. A bright yellow and red patch appeared out on the waves. Staring at it a little longer revealed it to be a person, though race or sex was impossible to determine at this range. The person seemed to be unconcious or dead, and it didn't look like they would be able to stay afloat much longer. Alicia hesitated. She knew herself to be a competant swimmer, but even a Sea Elf would have trouble in those waters. She stared out at the figure for a few seconds more, almost hoping that the water would drag it down and remove the choice from her hands. It didn't, though, and so Alicia made her choice. She quickly pulled off her bulky dress, knowing that the durable cloth would be like an anchor if she wore it while swimming. After spending a moment more folding the dress and placing it in a relatively dry spot, Alicia ran out into the storm. The wind and rain washed over her mostly bare flesh like a tidal wave of cold. Paying no heed to the protests of her body against the sudden cold, Alicia dived into the violent sea. It was like immersing yourself in ice. Almost immediately she could feel her body begin to grow numb. Though it felt like a welcome relief from the agonizing cold, Alicia was well aware that if she allowed the numbness to encompass her brain, death would soon follow. Focusing her will on the task, Alicia began to swim toward the cooling person out in the bay. It was the most effort she had put into anything in months, and she belatedly realized that her time as a slave had done little to increase her muscle tone. In fact, she was badly out of shape for this kind of effort. After what seemed like two eternities, Alicia reached the person. It was a a male Elf, and a badly burned one at that. She couldn't tell if he was still alive, but unless she got him to shore, she was sure he wouldn't be. Grabbing hold of the Elf, she turned around and began to swim towards shore. Looking back, she almost cried out. The distance seemed impossibly long, and the waves were tugging at them, making it even further as she watched. It almost ended there. Floating in the incredibly violent sea with only barely enough strength to stay afloat, Alicia almost gave in and allowed the waters to claim her. Almost. But something stopped her. Much later, Alicia was never exactly able to say exactly what, but something kept her going and prevented her from surrendering to the water and the cold. Maybe it was the spirits of her friends and family who died when Wevlyndale fell, or maybe it was her passenger lending her some of his strength to aid them both. Perhaps she was somehow able to tap into the potent magic of the ring on the Elf's finger. Or maybe, just maybe, it was a re-emergence of the inner core of strength that had allowed her to escape Wevlyndale where so many others had fallen and had kept her alive and sane throughout the horrors of her slavery on the Black Serpent. Afterwards, Alicia was unable to exactly say how she managed to bring herself and the smoldering Elf back to shore. But she did it anyhow. Dragging herself and her passenger from the water cost Alicia the last of her strength. The water lapped at her heels, but she was unable to move any further. As conciousness began to fade from the exhausted Half-Elf, she noticed something burning ahead of her. The old wooden pier where she had taken shelter had been struck by a lightning bolt whiles she had been swimming. If she hadn't gone out to save the Elf, she would have perished in the ruin that was now the pier. Alicia had only a moment to reflect on that before the cold and the darkness claimed her.... -- Andrew Corboy & Jon Gad | Jon Gad is only recieving mail from acorboy@ux4.cso.uiuc.edu | this account and assumes no | responsibility for posts made from it. | Even if Jon Gad wrote them. ;) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: asgds@aurora.alaska.edu Subject: [Besht][Mikar] Revelations 2 Message-ID: <1993Apr26.162050.1@aurora.alaska.edu> Date: Tue, 27 Apr 1993 00:20:50 GMT Therw was a moment of profound silence as the implications of what Seline had said to sink in. "This must not happen," Nikola spoke without emotion. "Achthyl was a monsterous old horror before, but with the powers of the Great Mother at her command, God help us all." "At least you have the Goddess on your side." This statement brought Seline out of her dark reverie to star at Mikar. "What do you mean?" "It is why Nikola and I came so early. He was visited by Besht in the night!" And Nikola repeated the story of his dream for Seline and the catman. Then he showed Seline the scars that ran up and down his back. "So, I have my champion," at Nikola's look she smiled. "I asked Mother Besht for a champion to help me in the fight against the Sorcceress. Ask and ye shall recieve, it seems. What shall we do first?" "It seems to me," said Mikar "that we need to find a name for our feline friend over here." They all looked at the amneasic catman, and Seline smiled. "I have a solution to that. As you are a cat, a true child of Besht, your last name can be Telbesht. Now all you need do is choose a first name." "My lady Seline, I thank you once again for providing for me, I only hope I can serve you well on this quest, and in whatever else you may need of me. From now on, I am Seln Telbesht." Sel bowed his head towards the priestess. "I... I am honored, and know that you will always be welcome in the house of Besht. But now what shall we do? How do we stop this witch?" "I think," said Nikola "that the first order of business is to get together a team of adventurers to help us in our effort to find her. To that end why don't Sel, Mikar and I go to the Dragons Inn and post on the board?" "Very well," Selina yawned. "But for now why don't we all get some sleep?" In the Shunned Center a pool of darkness writhed and twisted to its own arcane rythms. MagicHutchHeader From: fannicm@wkuvx1.bitnet (Master Hawk) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: ADMIN: [TW]/[ST]/[Shadowmage]/[SQ] and all interrested... Message-ID: <1993Apr26.201843.6993@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 26 Apr 93 20:18:43 CDT References: In article , jpesonen@viikki.Helsinki.FI (JORMA JUHANI PESONEN (EKT)) writes: > I won't be able to access the Net for the next four (4) months and so my > characters in the threads mentioned in the subject-line will cease to be. > Well not exactly cease, but won't take any part in them. I'll return to Net > during Autumn, exact date unknown. NOW HE TELLS US!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!! To [TW] members and Melandra Flametree: Please E-Mail me ASAP. - -=-=-=-=- _ _ _ _ , ' ) ) ) _/_ ' ) / / / / / __. _ / _ __ /--/ __. , , , /_ / ' (_(_/|_/_)_<__ Message-ID: <93116.141012344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: ADMIN: Subjective Time (and Books) References: <16BB8EDF8.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> >First of all, this is just of of curiousity. I know that a year of >"earth time" has passed since tales from the Dragon's Inn have mys- >teriously started percolating onto this dimension's computer networks. >But how much Dragon's Inn time has passed? I know that this may be >pretty subjective, since time in the Inn is not a constant, but does >anyone have any wild guesses? Enquiring minds >Whinny!< both human >AND unicorn want to know. Lancos Erredan to your service, as much as possible. If you may recall, on the Bulletin Board it's explained that "The Thing" messes up time lines (so it's not 'Raelf). As Luthor said ("the people who went after the dragon"? Really, Luthor, don't even pretend you don't know us better than that. It _was_ you who shrank SunStorm, after all), the DQers have been in Generica maybe a month. Of course, we also were _out_ of Generica, I'd guess for... well, the rest of the time . I've heard about "earth time" from Mike and from 'Raelf; it's an unique concept. Personally, my viewpoint -- which may correspond and/or have been expressed by others -- is that a year in Generica is equal to a year "Earth time", or a year in whatever realm you dwell or have dwelled in. The Generican year needn't have the same number of days as any of them, and this may be the cause of some of the time shifts, but it makes sense, as well as being rather convenient. >Now, we all know that the Inn isn't fiction (well, WE do, anyway... those of >you who actuallly transcribe the tales may have deluded yourselves into >thinking otherwise, but we characters know better), but we don't have to tell >anyone else that. Actually, I always thought of Mike as the weird character, and myself as the basis in reality, but maybe that's just me :-)! >Why doesn't someone get ahold of the first couple of megs or so of the Inn >and start editing them together into a book? Not only could it be published >at Kinko's, but it could also be put up for FTP. Well, Zenith (aka Mike Bavister) is one step ahead of you there. He's placing all these tales (articles) onto a FTP as we speak. Of course, organizing them may be another matter entirely. Hmm, "editing" -- I think that's what Mike's doing with the DragonQuest, although without SunStorm of Valgar<'s creators> around, I don't believe that'll ever make it to book form. In fact, I wonder how much of this would. I don't mean to be discouraging, as this isn't the first time the possibility of an a.p.d-i book -- "Tales from the Dragon's Inn" or the like -- has been brought up. But while the DQ taught me and hopefully others that nothing is impossible, you've got to admit that not everything on here is fit, and some of it is almost "intentionally" set up that way. Maybe it's just my lack of ego speaking, despite the fact that I'd support and be willing to help such an attempt. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Lancos Erredan AKA Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader Date: Tue, 27 Apr 1993 08:30:00 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93117.083000ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MI][L&S] A Visit to ShadeHaven Scene: Alfvaen has just arrived at the base of a Tree-House resting on the top of a 20' column of earth. The day is bright and cloudless, in the background, birds can be heard singing happily as they build nests from the debris left behind from the Storm. As Alfvaen stared up at ShadeHaven, he couldn't help but wonder how it had gotten where it was. He had seen houses which were blown over by the Storm, but none that were blown up. "You should have seen it yesterday when it was 50 feet high..." said a Golden skinned man, obviously Elven descent, as he stepped from behind the column. "Hi, Luthor." "Well met, Alfvaen. It is good to see you again, and in one piece." Luthor bowed in greeting. "Well, the MI office is pretty much trashed, but the underground rooms are pretty secure, so we made out okay. I just barely made it there in time, though, and I was pretty soaked, too. I can see you're okay...how about Serene and the kid?" "They are fine. I think the Mist came for them during the storm. Why don't you come up and have a glass of wine? I just got a bottle from Specifica of the Spices that I have been wanting to try...if you can spare the time of course." Childish excitement showed itself in Luthor's eyes. Alfvaen waved his hand dismissively. "I got lots of time. Moriarty is not keeping me busy at the moment. Our current 'case', if you could call it that, is pretty well stalled right now." He considered adding that he wasn't really a wine drinker, or a drinker at all for that matter, but decided he'd be polite instead. "I'd love to come up for some wine, but how exactly...?" Luthor look Alfvaen to the side of the column and pointed to a wooden platform which was about 10 feet square, "Stand on that." A few seconds after stepping onto the platform, there was a rumbling sound. A moment later, the wooden platform was pushed upwards in the midst of a spray of hot water. Luthor laughed heartily as he and Alfvaen were thrown up to the top of the column of earth, falling with a graceless thud. The platform landed near them on some of Luthor's prize-winning rose bushes. Still laughing, Luthor stood and brushed himself off, then helped Alfvaen to his feet, "So, what do you think?" "I think I prefer being pulled up by marble golems, except that you have to go into a Mageguild to do that. You should really put up a rope ladder or something. Or stairs. Not everyone has as good balance as we do." He admired the roses for a few seconds--his mother had instilled a cursory appreciation of horticulture in him, but little more. "These things could get damaged, too. But then, I suppose you've taken all that into account..." "I could have used magic, but with my experiments going on, it could be dangerous. Besides, I would have had to interact with the Mage's Guild to get it done...Mages and I don't get along too well, you see." As Luthor talked, he pushed the wooden platform out of the roses and tended the broken stems. Moments later, the roses looked perfect again. Luthor led Alfvaen into the house. "You probably didn't get a proper tour last time, with all the people about. Would you like one now?" Alfvaen could feel the presence of the housetree around him, resonating with his elven half. It made him slightly uncomfortable. He wouldn't want to live here for any length of time, he decided. "I'd love one," he said, again deciding on the course of politeness. ADMIN: More to come... ---Alfvaen(1978 Books, 1104 Albums, And Counting) "Corruption is inevitable. The trick is giving it direction." ---Wayne Santos Current Album--The Clash:London Calling Current Read--George Eliot:Silas Marner In conjunction with: -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader Date: Tue, 27 Apr 1993 10:07:53 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93117.100753ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: ADMIN: Periodic Postings References: <1993Apr24.224143.1780@atlantis.uucp> Well, since I have been around for a *little* while now, I think it's about time that I get put to work. Therefore, I will officially volunteer for posting the FAQ list every week. If someone happens to have a recent copy, PLEASE send it to me. BTW, I've been getting indications from my boss that he wants me to stick around for the next...oh...70 years or so. In other words, looks like I'll have net access for the rest of my natural life :-). Love and Peace and Contentment, -The Dreamer- Now if only I could convince him to pay me a REAL salary... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [WTRT] Blood-lust, Part I Message-ID: <1rjn5eINN7nm@news.gac.edu> From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Date: 27 Apr 1993 16:31:42 GMT >And the sun of a different world beats down upon the four companions and their >mounts, and time works at erasing the harm down upon their minds, and more >importantly their bodies. More than the sun notices their arrival, though. >Gods take note at the new arrivals. Most of the gods are ambivalent, but >others view this with great interest. The beginning has finally come... Thorr-kan is not a person whom one would expect to be attuned to the gods. But he is a chosen instrument of his lord, Kiri-Jolith, so he knows their presence. More importantly, he was present when the Dark Queen finally succeeded in breaking out of the Abyss and entering Krynn in all her glory. That day, the difference between divine and mortal power became clear to Thorr-kan. He *disliked* the despair and helplessness it wrought. Is it any wonder than that he stirs uneasily as he senses the gods turning their attention to him once more? But this is a question for the future. For now, Thorr-kan sleeps, healing the damage that the dimensional shift has done. Time passes, and the White Minotaur remembers... The sun beats down upon the Arena of Kothas. The heat has been building for days, cooking the city and its inhabitants. They are boiling over, ready to explode with anger. Now, they have a focal point; one of their own has returned to the fold. He is a traitor, wanted for sedition and rebellion. Everyone has heard the charges and agrees that this once great champion has fallen from honor. Even his own body betrays him! Look how his once lustrous black fur has become faded and grey. Observe how his horns lack ornament. He denies his righteous victories in combat. He denies the very essence of being a minotaur! But, a faint doubt remains. The outcast has chosen to Challenge. How can one without honor hope to win? Perhaps he hope the authorities will be confused and give him a bit more time to live. Yes, that must be it. The honorless one is desperately trying to grasp a bit more time on this plane. Thorr-kan looks up at the howling crowd disdainfully. The minotaur knows exactly what thoughts are running through their minds. He thought the same way until recently. But his eyes are open to the world now, and Thorr-kan has a new mission. Once he was known as the Black Death, among the greatest of his races champions. That being no longer exists. In his place stands another, cleansed by death and brought back on his people's behalf. He is the White Minotaur, and he hopes to lead his people into light. That is the reason Thorr-kan has returned to his homeland. He is under sentence of death. But he hopes to become an example for his people. To that end Thorr-kan issued his Challenge. He would face the Emperor's picked champion in solo combat, letting them pick the weapons. Because of the severity of his crimes, Thorr-kan finds himself facing a minotaur in full chain with net and trident while wielding a longsword and shield himself. Death is certain. So be it; Thorr-kan goes to it knowing that it will at least mean something. Thorr-kan and his opponent enter the Arena. After a long-winded introduction of his opponent (designed to strike fear into the hearts of the dishonorable), the White Minotaur is brought forth. He is introduced as the Betrayer, the former Black Death, who has come to pay his last respects before departing for the after-life in servitude to an inferior god of an inferior race. Such slanders dissolve what little doubt Thorr-kan has left. "I CHOOSE TO SERVE!" he cries out. "I AM NOT A SLAVE TO KIRI-JOLITH'S WHIMS, UNLIKE YOUR SERVITUDE TO THE EMPEROR!" The crowd rises to its feet like a tidal wave. "Death to the infidel! Death to the infidel! Death to the infidel! Death to the infidel!" comes their chant. But some glance about uneasily, perhaps knowing that Thorr-kan is right. Nodding in satisfaction, Thorr-kan faces his opponent. He shows no surprise that it is his greatest student, Phantos. "Finally, I will prove that I am the better warrior. I will not have to live in your shadow, known as the Betrayer's greatest student. Now prepare to prove my prowess and honor!" Thorr-kan's eyes narrow slightly. This insult will be remembered. The combatants drop into fighting stances. Their first passes are slow and calculated, more to feel each other out than to cause damage. But such civility does not last. Soon the battle is joined in earnest. Each minotaur is the antithesis of the other; the battle-rage begins to overcome them. Heat blurs the passage of time. Thorr-kan becomes aware of just two things: he is barely injured, and his opponent is tiring rapidly. "Come, coward. Taste my blade," he taunts Kelven. "We will see who has no honor." The armored minotaur snarls and charges, eager to finally end this contest. Thorr-kan's longsword whips out once, twice, thrice. Each swing loosens more blood to the Arena floor. Kelven backs away, then loops his net about the White Minotaur's shield. He sets his trident and begins drawing Thorr-kan towards it. Thorr-kan digs in and begins pulling back. But even his great strength is not enough. Kelven has to much leverage. At the last instant, the White Minotaur loosens his shield. Both minotaurs stumble slightly. Kelven reverses the net, entangling Thorr-kan's legs. Down he goes. Kelven leaps forward to deal the final blow. His trident flashes down, but stops just short of the neck. It has become impaled on the left hand of Thorr-kan. For several seconds the two strain against each other, the trident inching closer to its target. Then a glitter of light from his left distracts Kelven. Thorr-kan's sword is the last thing he sees. A minotaur head rolls in the dust. But the White Minotaur's roar of triumph is cut short. The trident has found its way to his chest. The pain! Thorr-kan rises to his knees. The pain is unbelievable. It was not supposed to happen this way....! [more to follow...] -Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur ****************************************************************************** Peace through strength! Victory through annihilation! Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Kyar and Aleric went hunting... Message-ID: <1993Apr27.154111.5080@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 27 Apr 93 15:41:10 -0400 Aleric looked up from the fire and saw an indistinct form step from the forest. A deep voice rumbled a greeting from the shadows of the hood. The cowl was pulled up to conceal the newcomer's features, making it difficult to identify even the race. "Be there one among you that I may speak with? I come in peace," the voice asked Aleric. Aleric's purple eyes were narrowed in suspicion. He measured the figure silently for a mintue or so. In the trees behind the person, Aleric saw Kyar gliding to the edge of the scrub. Aleric caught his faint nod and looked back to the figure before him. "I think you had best speak to Elanon. I will show you to him," Aleric replied guardedly. Aleric stood and motioned to one side. He guided the person to where Elanon sat conversing with Ildamar and Quaeros. After explaining the presence of the newcomer, Aleric backed away and returned to the fire. He was always uneasy around strange people, being mainly reserved. He placed himself to one side of the fire again in a position to watch the dialogue. Reaching in a small pouch tied to his belt, Aleric pulled out a whetstone and began smoothing the newest nick from Xel-ha. Kyar melted from the shadows and dropped to his heels beside Aleric. "Who is this person? I caught his presence earlier and came back to investigate," Kyar said. He flipped his dagger back to a forehand grip and thrust it back into its sheath in his boot. Aleric shrugged. "I didn't ask. He's gone to talk to Elanon." Kyar nodded as Aleric restated the obvious, showing his unease. Aleric glanced out into the trees, his eyes visibly shifting color again from purple to a dark blue. "I think we should see if there is anything else we should know about wandering around out there before it decides to drop in for a visit as well." With a final steely ring, Aleric stopped polishing his sword. He took a soft cloth and wiped the blade carefully before sliding it into the scabbard over his shoulder. He replaced the whetstone and cloth in his pouch and pulled the drawstring tight. He rose to his feet and glanced inquiringly at Kyar. Kyar grinned and stood. Together, the two warriors slipped away from the camp to do a little of their own exploring. No one noticed their exit except Darkin who was on sentry duty at the time. [ADMIN] Let us know when you are ready to move on. Kyar and Aleric are only out to search the area as scouts. We may be back before morning, Dad. *grin* (sorry, the urge overcame me.) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac169@Freenet.carleton.ca (Darryl Farr) Subject: [JOI] Ah, The Fresh Sylvan Aire! Message-ID: <1993Apr27.212931.14074@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Tue, 27 Apr 1993 21:29:31 GMT "Land ho!" called the lookout, high in the crow's nest above. Ildamar rose to his feet, slipping his pipes into his pocket and striding over to the rail. Peering intently, he saw a green stripe lining the horizon. Judging from the ship's speed, they would make landfall within the day. He murmured a quick prayer of thanks to Branchala, and an orison of placation to Zeboim. With a skip in his step, he went belowdecks to pack his gear. The unloading was brisk and efficient. Apart from the captain's accident in the hull, the horses were well behaved after a brief talk with the tall Irda. As the animals splashed their way through the surf, Ildamar waded alongside, enjoying the water, and the fact that he would shortly not have to ride on it. Although he enjoyed sailing, he could not bear to be away from his beloved forests for any length of time. After the companions had regrouped on land and Elanon paid the captain for his services, Ildamar strode confidently into the forest, not sensing any dangerous predators in the vincinity. He noticed a twig broken off a bush at chest level, some distance in to the forest. A small scuff at the base of the bush resembled a human footprint, but Ildamar felt no traces of human settlement nearby. The forest was peaceful and undisturbed, without the air of unease associated with hunters and loggers. Elanon then spoke to the group, explaining that they had landed some distance to the north of their intended destination. Realizing that they could go no further immediately, the companions decided to pitch camp and rest the night. Within an hour, the small group had assembled a comfortable yet small campsite, careful not to disturb the balance of the area more than was necessary. Relaxing by a tree, Ildamar removed his pipes and started to play a tune, lilting but definitely minor in key. he thought, Shortly after dark had fallen, a hooded stranger entered the camp and approached Aleric. The warrior led the man over to where Ildamar and Elanon were talking with Quaeros, and returned to sharpening his blade. As the individual struck up a conversation with Elanon, Ildamar noticed Kyar slink out of the brush and speak briefly with Aleric. The two men then re-entered the darkness, and Ildamar, sensing that the intruder posed no immediate threat, slipped off to join them, moving like a ghost through the growing night. -- --{ Darryl Farr }{ I can get a job, I can pay the phone bills } { The Grey Man }{ I can cut the lawn cut my hair cut out my cholesterol } { ac169@freenet.}{ I can work overtime, I can work in a mine BNL: } { carleton.ca }{ I can do it all for you... but I don't WANT to! _Enid_} MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu (Daniel Steven Reinker) Subject: [blade] Meshtak replies Message-ID: <1993Apr27.212016.23286@cheshire.oxy.edu> Date: Tue, 27 Apr 1993 21:20:16 GMT Meshtak turns to bellow at Sir Tyrone as the run for the exit. "It seems me and Blade have a mutual enemy...the grot-denker that started all this. I sprung him to give me a hand in defeating...Hendrix?" Meshtak remembers the name. "Especially since all you seemed to have disappeared at the time." Meshtak's eyes narrow as he hears Sir Tyrones description of the possessed maiden. "Hendrix's doing...he wanted you after me. Good thing it backfired." Just then, with a heavy rumbling, the ceiling in front of them collapses, blocking the way forward. Meshtak looks around for Max, but it appears the cyberwarrior made it through the tunnel before it collapsed. Abruptly, the ceiling behind them also caves in. Meshtak turns, realizing they are trapped. And then, an ominous cracking sound comes from the roof above them. Meshtak the Draga -- "You can't help that. We're all mad here." - The Cheshire Cat, Alice in WL "Twisting under schizophrenia/ Falling deep into Dementia" - Metallica Subscribe to the CJ mailing list! Send e-mail to dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu. Include your e-mail address!!!! MagicHutchHeader From: dan@tbone.biol.scarolina.edu (Dan Schar) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Wow cool, whats this all about? Date: 28 Apr 1993 05:00:06 GMT Message-ID: <1rl30mINN51d@bigbird.csd.scarolina.edu> References: <1993Apr24.224143.1780@atlantis.uucp> <93117.100753ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> I read some of this, and liked it, so if someone could send me a message and let me know what is going on, it would be appreciated, thank you -- Dan Schar (Internet: dan@tbone.biol.scarolina.edu) (803) 777-8998 Department of Biology, University of South Carolina, Columbia SC 29208 MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [Hostel] Breaking Point, Part 2 Message-ID: Date: Wed, 28 Apr 1993 02:13:58 GMT [ADMIN] If you want to actively use the West Side Hostel, or the Ale House, please write to me first, so I can give you details on either establishment. All characters herein are mine, please don't use them without getting permission first. ----- "Mommy, do we havta go home now?" The little boy stared up at his mother as she wrapped her scarf-shawl around her head. His nose was running again, she noticed, and she moistened a washcloth from the pitcher by the sink. "No, Leoni, I'm just going to talk with your father." "But won't he make you stay?" "No, dear, the sisters are sending a guard with me." Dahlina just stared from her corner, watching her mother as she washed her brother Leoni's face again, and set him on the floor. "You could take Gunk Dragon with you," Leoni offered, holding out his soft green stuffed toy. She shook her head `no' as it winked one large red eye at her - "No, Gunk is your dragon, I'll do fine. Now off to play-school." "Okay, mommie." Leoni skipped down the hall towards the childrens' class room, and Arienna sighed and went back into the room. Dahlina was still in her corner, still just sitting and staring. "What's wrong, Leena?" "Mommy, is the reason we aren't going with you cause you're afraid that Daddy would hurt us?" "Oh no, darling, it's just that it's easier to talk to him by myself, is all. Besides, it's the rule the sisters have. It just works out better this way." "I was afraid Daddy would be so mad we left that he'd kill us." "Dahlina, your Daddy loves you very much. You know that. He's just not very nice when he's drunk, and he was drinking more often." "I know, but I was scared." "Why?" "Cause of when Tori went back with her baby before the storm." "Who told you about that, Dahlina?" Arienna frowned, then gave her daughter a hug. "Toriquel came back only yesterday, these gossips are just too much. No, dear. Tori's stepdaddy isn't a very nice man, Tori shouldn't have gone alone. She was lucky the storm came, or he would have kept her there." "But our daddy won't do that, right?" "No, your daddy won't try to keep me from coming back." She smiled and thought, especially not with the guard with me. "Leena, why don't you go play with the other girls?" "They're just babies. They play with dragons an' things." "And you don't like the dragons?" "Well, Reeny fibs, she says the dragons talk." "Do they?" Arienna smiled, remembering the first day she joined the sewing circle, making stuffed dragons. "MOOOoom! they're toys, toys don't talk." Dahlina was outraged. "Not even magic toys?" Arienna chided, saddened inside that Dahlina was so cynical for a six-year-old. And her questions were too adult. "Who'd waste magic on a toy?" Dahlina rubbed out an imaginary spot on the floor with her toe. "Well, if you loved kids, would you want to make them something special?" "I spoze." "Well, there you are." Areienna tousled her daughter's hair affectionately, then straightened her dress and stood to go. "Mom?" "Yes?" "Did Tori's baby die because Tori was bad?" Arienna froze. She blinked, and swallowed, and when she spoke she knelt down beside Dahlina and spoke very gently. "No, darling. She died because she was hit on the head. It had nothing to do with Tori being good or bad, and it wasn't the baby's fault either, and don't you let anyone tell you otherwise." Dahlina pursed her lips and made a wet kiss on her mother's cheek. "Come back ok?" "I promise." Arienna went out into the hall, where the guard was waiting to escort her. The guard was a tall, redhaired woman with green eyes, and a no-nonsense sort of attitude. A sword hung at her side, throwing-stars and other more unusual weapons glinting around her. "We still don't advise this. He hasn't stopped coming, every day." "I know, but he has stopped drinking so much. Besides, I want him to know the kids are all right. They're his kids too, he deserves to know." She knew it wasn't true, she just had too see him again, for herself. The guardswoman kept her anger from her face, and replied sharply. "He deserves NOT to know - he needs motivation to change." "I know that. I'm not going back to him, not until he's been sober for more than a year." The guard looked surprised. "You're sure?" "I'm sure. He has to prove it to himself too." **** The street was a bustle of new building. There were parts that still looked shabby - the Buff' had been rebuilt first, but using the castoffs and debris from Low Town, as usual - except for one or two buildings that had been made from new lumber. The roving crews had started to put them together, and the Buff dwellers had been amazingly unhelpful, for reasons that became obvious, as the new wood warped and bent in strange and unnatural ways. The old wood somehow resisted the strange effects, and a number of sturdy, if shabby, buildings had replaced the aging shanties and heaps. They were going to rendezvous at the wellhouse. The city ran a small park there. The area was open, always in full view of people. The street vendors liked to stop their carts there, so they could sell fruit and fresh bread to the people as they came for drinking water. Four carts were there. The fruit and vegetable carts were not around, because there wasn't enough of either to sell from a cart. There were some Ramesh caravels due in next week, and the spring gardens would be recovered by the next week... Arienna listened absently to the gossip of the street vendors. She couldn't afford their wares anyway. Up the street four blocks was where her house had been, on the edge of Merchant's Hill by the Low Town. The apple tree was gone, and the hedge. There was a framework going up, from the distance she wasn't sure if it was going to be the same size or not. "Ranna. You look nice." She jumped. Her husband's voice had come from the street beside her. The guardwoman stepped between them, one hand poised on her sword hilt. He was standing on the cobbles a few feet away, wearing his work clothes, his hat twisted in a knot between his hands. "That's enough. You keep three strides distance between you." "Sorry," he replied, abashed. He stepped back. The crowds parted, leaving them room to talk, kept at bay by some unknown pressure. "Vic." Her voice was tight. She swallowed. "I've been sober since the day after you left." "That's not good enough any more. You did that before." "Well, hells, what do you want?" He nervously wrung on the hat, and Arienna frowned and stared at it until he stopped, abashed. "I want you to stop beating on me and the kids, and I want you to get a job and keep it. I want you to be happy too, but we can't do that if you keep on going out with those friends of yours." "You used to like them." "I was afraid of them, Vic." He had no reply - why hadn't she told him? Or maybe she had, once or twice. He no longer remembered. He coughed, and changed the subject. "Do I get to see the kids?" "No. Not for a while. I need to get over some stuff first." "Dammit, they're my kids too. You're my WIFE." "Not any more, not once you started drinking, not once you started beating on us." Her voice rose to match his ferocity, but this time he was the one who backed down. "..sry..." he muttered. "What?" "I said I'm SORRY dammit!" He balled his fists, his face growing red. The guardswoman stepped between them again. "Back off. Cool down." Arienna sighed, and after a minute she wiped her eyes and spoke. "No, Vic. You don't get to do this again. I came to see how you did in the storm, and to find out if any of the kids' clothes survived." "I really am sorry. Uh. The house was a total loss. There was a fire next door, jumped the garden and took the kitchen, and then the winds tore the roof off and all there was left was the basement." "Gods. Well, ok. I knew it was a loss anyway." She stopped talking for a moment, lost in memory, then his nervous shuffle brought her back to the present. She smiled faintly, apologetic, "How did you get through it?" "I was press-ganged down to the river - when the storm got to the bay, I was sent off with the others to Ale House. We stayed in the caverns there, it wasn't so bad, kind of crowded." He fidgeted. "I got some money for you and the kids. I've had some work with the builders, and the clean-up crews are paying good money." He started to step forward, extending his right hand. The guard extended her sword flat between them. "Put the money on the sword blade then step back." He put a small knotted square of cloth on the sword blade. The blade seemed to catch fire with the sunlight for a moment, then faded. "No compulsions, no poisons or drugs, five coppers and two gold. You can take the pouch, Arienna." The guard stepped back towards the woman, her sword held carefully flat yet ready. Arienna took the packet of coins. "Thanks for the money, Vic. You have enough for you to live on?" "Yeah, for a while. It lasts longer when I don't drink it all," he said with an edge of self-deprecating bitterness. "I'll see you later, Vic. Come by the Hostel in two weeks and talk to the Sister, she'll tell you if I can see you." "Okay. Gods, I miss you." "I know. I've missed you." For years, she added to herself. He walked away down the street under the guardswoman's watchful gaze. "Time to go now." "I know." They began the trek back, passing the Street of Temples. There was an arch, made of red silken ribands, and the brisk cold wind from the bay seemed to wash over the top of the arch. It was warm and dry underneath. "What's that?" she asked the guardswoman. "The shelter. There wasn't room in the temples, a wandering hermit priest showed the temple dwellers how to consecrate the street until it isn't needed any more. So the storm never hit the street, and they have warmth and food there until Low City is rebuilt and the farms and gardens are back together." "I know that woman." "Who?" "The one with the little girl, can we stop for a minute please?" "Sure." The guardswoman saw a young man in priest's garb, and went over to speak with him, leaving Arienna to her friend - but still watching her. "Sahrae!" Arienna called out, waving, and caught the woman's attention. They met together in a quick, desperate hug. "Arienna! I was afraid you had been lost in the storm! Nobody had seen you for days, and then the house was burned - where have you been?" "I'm staying at the West Hostel, Sahrae." "Vic finally went too far? Are the children all right?" "Yes, we got out early enough. Just. How's your Thomas?" "He was on the seawalls." Sahrae's grey eyes clouded and she looked away. "I'm sorry." "No, I haven't given up. His body wasn't found, and there's still lots being found alive. My neighbor Drinna, her husband was a dock worker, was reported lost, and he came back. So I'm not giving up hope." "We'll pray for you then. Is your house gone?" "Yes. The Weavers' Guild is still paying for spun thread, though, and I managed to bring my handloom, so I'll be all right. Besides, the priestess of Aditi has been giving wood to build new houses." Arienna nodded, not knowing what to say, watching as Sahrae spun yarn with her drop-spindle. Finally she fell back on the time-worn rituals. "How's your daughter doing?" "She's fine. Misses her daddy. She's been helping a lot with the weaving and spinning." Sahrae stopped, sighed and wiped the edges of her eyes. "Our house will be ready again in a few days, we'll have to make do with woven seagrass mats and shakework tables. If you get tired of staying in the Hostel, let me know, I'll make room for you." "I thank you, but for now I've got to stay. You remember Toriquel Jandae?" "Yes, she was Venderi's daughter, wasn't she? Married the caravan master?" "Well, her caravan master was a gambler and a fool and he lost his business, so they moved back in with her family. And you know how Venderi's second husband was. Thedrik, his name is." "Oh, no..." "Tori had gone to the Hostel two weeks before I did. That was why I finally gave in and went there - I didn't know her all that well, but you know, the word came around on the streets, so I knew the kids would be safe there." Sahrae nodded, waiting for the other woman to continue. When she did, it was in a subdued voice. "Tori went back home just before the storm hit, took the baby with her." She blinked, and her hand trembled a little as she dropped the spindle, tightening the fibers into yarn. "Are they all right?" "Their house was spared, they were on the far side of the hill from the worst of the winds. No, there was a fight between Thedrik and Tori's husband, Dirk. So after that Thedrik struck the child for crying, just a few hours before the storm hit, and it died before the day was out. They couldn't get out to see a priest-healer or a chiurgeon." "Gods no. What happened to Thedrik?" "Venderi turned him out on the street, got all four of her sons to do it. I hear she's filed a plaint with the Guard, but nothing's come of it yet." Sahrae shook her head in distaste. "The same as always." She sighed. Another baby gone. They were so fragile at that age, always dying, from croup or the flux or the fevers. It wasn't right that they should be dying because some fool man with a temper couldn't stay his hand. She pulled a ball of yarn from her rucksack and added the new length to it, snapping the end off the spindle with unaccustomed ferocity. A sort of sour laugh at her clumsiness came out. Finally she spoke again. "So how did you hear all of this?" "Tori's back at the Hostel again. The brothers started in on her as they had before, but this time they wanted more than just food. Venderi seems to think it was just and proper since she lost them the income from Thedrik's businesses." Arienna made a face. "Ah well. Such as is, can't be done for, they say." "They do. Visit me at the Hostel if you want, I'm sure that Dahlina would like seeing your Lissa again." "I'll try." They hugged and pressed their hands together, the clasp of friends who see each other too seldom, and then Arienna walked alone back to where the guardswoman waited, leaving Sahrae to start her spinning again. MagicHutchHeader From: rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Watch out for low hanging branches... Message-ID: <1993Apr28.093801.7019@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 28 Apr 93 09:38:01 CDT Kyar stopped for a second. Aleric looked at him quizzically. "Someone else is coming." he said for an explanation. Both warriors tensed, then relaxed as the familiar from of Ildamar moved silently from the trees. "I saw you two leaving camp, and since I haven't had a chance to look around the woods yet, I thought I would tag along." The ranger took a deep breath of the crisp forest air and smiled at the other two. Kyar grinned. "I'll try not to get in you two's way. I haven't been in the woods very much. I spent my childhood on horse plains, and my youth was spent in the monastaries of Ra Kati. But I'll do the best I can." Aleric laughed. "Just try not to make too much noise, and you'll be fine." Ildamar and Aleric spread out about fifteen feet apart, and began to move off through the dense woods. Kyar couldn't hear them at all. He repeated his earlier trick of making himself lighter, but there was no way he could be as quiet as the other two men. Every now and then he brushed against a branch or scraped his boot on a stone, wincing at the sounds he made. He concentrated harder, drawing in more of the Phadra. The forest was full of life, so it was easy to pull in a great deal of energy. He still wasn't silent like the others, but he made fewer mistakes, and managed to keep up with them. It was difficult to see in the growing darkness, but Kyar could sense his way with the Phadra... at least when he concentrated hard enough, which was difficult when already concentrating on moving quietly. He was sure he heard one of the others snicker when his head smacked into a low hanging branch. It was then that Kyar sensed the presence of other beings approaching them. He crouched down and tried to think of a way to quietly warn the other warriors, but saw that there was no need. Somehow both Aleric and Ildamar seemed to be aware of the other group approaching, for they were crouched down together ahead, Ildamar pointing off into the trees towards whatever creatures Kyar had sensed. Kyar started to move and join the others, then decided it would be best to remain in place. If he made a sound now, it might ruin whatever plan the other warriors were concocting. Instead, he reached out with his mind and tried to contact Aleric. //Aleric, can you hear me?// he sent... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: Re: [JOI] Kyar and Aleric went hunting... Message-ID: <1993Apr28.141007.13037@ultb.isc.rit.edu> References: <1993Apr27.154111.5080@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: Wed, 28 Apr 1993 14:10:07 GMT Segoi sat as he had been for the days that they had been ashore, wrapped in his cloak sitting on a log of dead wood. Glancing up at the new arrival he eyed him curiously for a while, having nothing better to do, and then went back to sitting and staring. The night was clear, the stars shone with a sparkling light. It was good to see the stars, they never seemed to change, they were always there. The wind blew with a warm gust across the camp, it ruffled the folds of his cloak. Standing slowly and leaning on a staff he had picked from one of the pine trees nearby, he walked towards the river. Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: asgds@aurora.alaska.edu Subject: [NKIT][Besht] StormWarnings... Message-ID: <1993Apr28.110249.1@aurora.alaska.edu> Date: Wed, 28 Apr 1993 19:02:49 GMT Azariah looked at the bustle in the streets. A cold wind blowing though him. There was an air of fear and depression flowing through the crowds of Generica. The had survived the worst storm in the history of Generica and now they were rebuilding. But, cried their spirits, what of the next time? Fear of what bad things might happen had taken the place of hope. Something stirred within him, danger. Azaria opened himself up to the Energies of Generica. And for the first time in his life, he felt fear... From temple to temple he wandered. Those who, durring the storm, had been sheltered in the Temple of Azpiazu watched him wander. At each temple he asked to speak to the highpriest or high priestess. Then after a few moments he he would leave, and after his departure the temple would become franticly busy... Seline looked up at the young man who had asked to see her. Such strange hair, she though, I've never seen a shade of purple quit like it. "Please sit down m'lord..." "My name is Azariah, and I don't heve time I must prepare, and so must you!" That he was a being of magic had been apparent to her after the first few seconds he had been in the room, that he had the potential for great power was also obvious. That someone of his nature should be so afraid... is not a good thing. "Prepare for what?" "A storm, more powerful and more devastating than the one which devastated the city. You must prepare your magics, and your shields, there is great danger!" She had tried to get him to explain, but failed. As the young man left the temple of Besht, there was a flury of activity, and Seline began to prepare, for whatever it was that he feared. MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Something wicked this way comes Message-ID: <1993Apr28.170217.5088@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 28 Apr 93 17:02:17 -0400 Aleric exulted in the feel of being in the forest again. The cool night air was refreshing, but still had the faintest tang of the nearby sea to it. In his ten years as a hired sword Aleric had been on many campaigns through dense forests. He felt most at home when surrounded by trees and very few people around. Since he had left his home at sixteen to follow the way of the warrior he had visited almost every type of terrain, but the woodlands would always be his home. Aleric glided through the trees making no sound on the fallen leaves and twigs despite his heavy boots. He saw no tracks or spoor of large beats that were recent, and little damage to the foliage and brush indicating human depredations or otherwise. Still, there was something unfamiliar in the air. Aleric kept track of Kyar almost absently by the sounds his friend made moving through the forest. Kyar was doing quite well, he had managed to muffle most of his footsteps, but he evidently wasn't used to scouting. Aleric mused, He paused and glanced back to check his companions' positions. Ildamar was about thirty yards away to his left and slightly ahead. Kyar was between the two and behind both by some distance. He was concentrating very hard on keeping silent. Unfortunately he was also concentrating on the ground. Aleric wondered whether or not he should warn Kyar about the low branch coming up. Aleric thought. Sure enough, Kyar fetched himself a good bruise when he walked right into the branch and it smacked him in the forehead. Aleric chuckled softly. Grinning to himself, Aleric continued his exploration. Not more than a few steps later, Aleric caught a new scent on the light breeze. He slowed and cautiously crept forward. His keen ears picked up an almost inaudible sound from ahead. Swiftly, he crouched and whistled softly to Ildamar. Ildamar, too, had noticed the presence and dropped to his heels. Aleric glanced around behind him at Kyar who still walked through the trees unaware of the change. Almost instantly, Kyar seemed to notice the difference and dropped to the ground, concealing himself. Aleric turned his attention back to the matter at hand. His mind raced considering the possibilities. He hadn't seen anything yet to indicate danger, so he didn't know what to expect. The only thing he noticed was the faint scent he had detected earlier. Aleric slid into a fighter's crouch and felt at his belt for the two daggers there. Both were in place. He also checked for his short boot knife and the dagger concealed at the back of his neck. All were in place. He cautiously pulled one dagger from its sheath at his waist and held it low. Suddenly, like a shout in the silence, he heard Kyar's voice calling him. He whipped his head around to glare at Kyar for the sound only to see Kyar still crouched with mouth firmly shut. Even as Aleric turned away again he heard the voice repeated, but this time he was sure Kyar's mouth was closed. Aleric shook his head as if to clear it of dottle and wrinkled his brow. He knew Kyar was telepathic but hadn't realized he could hear him. Aleric wondered if Kyar would hear him if he tried to reply. Aleric had no chance to wait for an answer because the presence had manifested on the crest of the hill. A small group of dark figures illumined from behind by the waning moon approached the places where Ildamar and Aleric were hiding. With the faint light behind them, Aleric wasn't quite sure what they were. But they certainly didn't have a friendly feel about them... MagicHutchHeader Date: Wednesday, 28 Apr 1993 16:08:16 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93118.160817344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] Help Wanted When they were out of sight of 'Raelf's house, Lancos let out a wide smile. He was feeling more content than he had since... probably when he had come to Generica. In his mind, he had united people who had a desire for the type of person the other was, although they'd never admit it. The Little Rat had desired a house and a family, no doubt especially after finding out how Lissa had dont it. 'Raelf and ar'Elya had desire for a child -- a humanoid child -- to ward, as shown by the looks they had given Serene and her baby Mista. This was sort of proven by the presence of Kev. But, instead of detracting anything, it was actually better this way: Kev would make adjustement and life easier for the Little Rat. "You certainly have interesting friends, Lancos." Darovs said, his accent now very familiar to the warrior. "ar'Elya claimed the toy would protect Lissa from bad things, if you can imagine that." Lancos looked at the stuffed dragon for a second, and smiled. "Knowing those two, I'm almost surprised the toy doesn't get up and defend itself from that 'attack'. 'Raelf isn't a 'normal' being, even for an adventurer, although I suppose you could say that about all the Dragon Questors. Valgar and I were closest, but we had -- have -- our own problems." Darvos was tempted to ask what Lancos was talking about. But the look in the ranger's eye told him it was a subject best left dropped. Taking the hint, he instead said, "You mentioned something about getting help. If what you say is true, I'm surprised you didn't ask him to aid us." "I already _did_, in perhaps the biggest way I could. Our enemy obviously knows a good deal of magic, and 'Raelf's is probably the place most protected from unwanted magic that I know of besides the Mage's Guild, and they might not accept her. She'll be safe now though, and happy. "And believe me," he continued, "if I know the Dragon's Inn, we'll find what help we need there." And so, as morning began to turn to afternoon, the trio entered the Dragon's Inn. Lissa looked around in amazement. She'd never seen anything like this. An array of corners and food and money that a Low city citizen could largely only dream about greeted her eyes. Lancos had a different viewpoint. The Inn didn't look as he had left it, although he _did_ remember it was something like this after the mob attack. Healers were treating people with various degress of injuries; patrons were helping or resting; even Kadrys was again at the same table -- what was now unofficially the DQers' table. Of course, some things were different. For example, a few seconds after their entrance, an unicorn came near them. Whether it was because it was friendly or because it was drawn by the combination of a ranger, a magician and a little girl is impossible to say. "Oh, it's so cuuuuute." Lissa said, admiring the bows that still remained in its mane. "What is it?" "It's an unicorn. A good and noble creature." Lancos said. The animal nicked and stood a bit proud at the words. "Although I'm surpised to see one, even in Generica." As he spoke, Lancos slowly petted the mane from left to right and from top to bottom. Feeling his companions stare at him with wonder, he turned around and answered the unspoken question. "It's supposed to bring good luck. And... er, she likes it too." And it did seem that the unicorn enjoyed it, or at the least put up with it. Soon Lancos stood up again. He gestured for Lissa to pet the animal, while he himself paid attention to Bast, who had grown a bit jealous at seeing the spectacle. "I didn't know you were superstitious." Darvos commented. "I'm not. But we'll need all the help we can muster on this quest." "Let's get started then." "I sort of did, with that announcement. If I know this place, it'll allow those interested to hear our need, and those that aren't to basically ignore it. In the meanwhile, let's visit Kadrys, whom I told you a bit about at Luthor's party." [ADMIN: As if readers of this thread couldn't guess at least some of who'll join. Of course, that doesn't necessarily mean that's _all_ though, so contact me if you're interested.] "Very well.". Leaving the unicorn behind them, they headed for Kadrys, and sat down. [ADMIN: See the recent [BBD][AU] crossover post for what happens(^Hed) here.] ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu SAQ: "Is there anybody listening?"-Queensryche MagicHutchHeader Date: Wednesday, 28 Apr 1993 20:57:39 EDT From: JILL <34EP2A2@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93118.20573934EP2A2@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [BBD]: Arienne back at the Inn References: <1r9eh7INNri8@flop.ENGR.ORST.EDU> Arienne had heard rumours that Lancos had plans at the inn soon, and awaited his coming with glee. Darvos, his companion, had the money--and he had the body. Laurn and Darrien were young, and strong, but not really very interest- ing outside the bedroom. * JILLIAN MAREE THOMAS 34EP2A2@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU * * "I'M JUST A GIRL WHO CAIN'T SAY NO" --OKLAHOMA * * @>->--->----------- * * * * * MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: [JOI] secrets Message-ID: <1993Apr29.151915.3506@ultb.isc.rit.edu> Date: Thu, 29 Apr 1993 15:19:15 GMT Segoi looked at the sparkling water of the river. It was fast flowing and clear, with a rocky bed. He shed his cloak carefully looking around before he did so to make sure Darkin or one of the others wasn't watching. Then with only his hat and what passed as undergarments, he slipped into the water. He bit his tongue as the cold water hit his wounds, but after a moment they became pleasntly numb. Carefully stretching out he swam across the breth of th river and back, then in a pool dug out by the current Segoi lay back against a stone and let the water run over him. It was a good feeling, seeming to take away the soreness and fatigue of the day. He looked again at the sky and the stars, and then quickly around to see if the ever watchful Darkin was at her post. Seeing her shadowy form he lay back again and closed his eyes. The shadows from the trees along the bank hid him from all but the most inquisitive eyes, or those who simply stumbled into the pool by mistake. He could hear everything. The quite worble of the river birds, the croak of the frogs near him, the rustle of the leaves in the trees, and the ever present river. This was a place he could stay in. Peaceful, relaxing, no one would bother him here, he would not have to hide himself, mabye even one of his own kind was here. It looked like teh king of place that they would come, but he could not tell for sure. Still there was something. The tiredness of the travels over came him and he slept. Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: acorboy@ux4.cso.uiuc.edu (Andrew E Corboy) Subject: [blade] A Bad Day in the Sewers Date: Thu, 29 Apr 1993 21:15:35 GMT Message-ID: Sir Tyrone began to get worried. The rumbling in the stone ceiling above, coupled with the small bits of debris and dust that were beginning to fall all indicated that that a full collapse was imminent. Casting about for a solution, Tyrone's gaze fell upon one of the several cast iron pipes that fed into the sewer. It was a larger one, and could perhaps fit a person if they didn't breathe too heavily. Leaping over to it in one flex of his powerful legs, Tyrone stuck his head into the pipe and tried to see where it ended. No exit was visible, though, and the stench was truly foul. Brutally supressing his nausea, the were-rabbit turned to his companions and yelled, "This way! There might be a way out over here!" As he spoke a chunk of stone the size of a head of lettuce disloged itself from the ceiling and splashed into the muck at his feet.... -- Andrew Corboy & Jon Gad | Jon Gad is only recieving mail from acorboy@ux4.cso.uiuc.edu | this account and assumes no | responsibility for posts made from it. | Even if Jon Gad wrote them. ;) MagicHutchHeader From: rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Nasty Beasties Message-ID: <1993Apr30.100111.7056@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 30 Apr 93 10:01:11 CDT References: <1993Apr28.170217.5088@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> > Aleric shook his head as if to clear it of dottle and wrinkled his brow. He > knew Kyar was telepathic but hadn't realized he could hear him. Aleric > wondered if Kyar would hear him if he tried to reply. > Aleric had no chance to wait for an answer because the presence had > manifested on the crest of the hill. A small group of dark figures illumined > from behind by the waning moon approached the places where Ildamar and Aleric > were hiding. With the faint light behind them, Aleric wasn't quite sure > what they were. But they certainly didn't have a friendly feel about them... Kyar could barely sense Aleric's reply in his mind. His telepathic abilities were not very well developed, but it seemed that Aleric was exceptionally sensitive. he sent to Aleric. Aleric replied Kyar broke the contact before he could hear Aleric's reply. Telepathy was a tremendous drain on his abilities, and he wanted to be ready in case of a fight. He could barely see Aleric ahead. The warrior moved to Kyar's left without making a sound, while Ildamar slid off into the trees, also silently. Kyar could hear the rustling sound of the other creatures approaching... "I hope I don't make THAT much noise." he thought to himself. He crouched down a little lower, still thinking it best not to move. He kept drawing in the power of the Phadra, until he could feel it coursing through his body. Finally he saw something... A figure in a patch of moonlight up ahead... It was short, maybe four feet tall, but heavily muscled, with long claws on its hands and feet, and thick black skin, narrow, slit like eyes, and a wide, fanged mouth. Kyar had seen many like it before, and he became just a little bit tense. He reached out to contact Aleric again.. Aleric seemed a bit irratated, and Kyar realized that he probably had just done the mental equivalent of screaming in Aleric's ear. Aleric replied, and Kyar could picture him drawing Xel-ha and smiling. Aleric said. Kyar again broke the contact. Again he could feel the drain on his power. Suddenly one of the demons stepped from around a tree not more than five feet away from him, and moved right towards him. Kyar concentrated, blending his form with the shadows, trying to make himself invisible to the eyes of the foul creature. He used the Phadra he had drawn in to boost his adrenaline-- he felt a rush of strength go through him. He waited... Aleric stood, not more than ten feet away, and hacked one of the demons nearly in half! Kyar waited until the others turned to face Aleric, then lept up, driving his wide blade into the back of the closest demon, where the kidney would be in a human body. He didn't have time to wonder if the wound would be fatal, however, as the demon immediately spun to attack with its long claws. Kyar's scimitar was nearly torn from his hands as it was ripped from the demons thick hide. He ducked under the swipe of the demon's arm, spinning, and kicked out at its leg, knocking it off balance. He continued the spin, leaping up again, coming around and slashing his blade at the back of the creatures head. The blade bit deeply, and there was a resounding crack as its skull cracked, and the demon dropped in a heap to the forest floor. He and stepped back to back with Aleric, his blade at the ready, but there were four more of the creatures surrounding them... ADMIN: Ildamar, now would be a great time for you to jump in... I'd hate to have to let Aleric do all the work... MagicHutchHeader From: starride@interceptor.ksu.ksu.edu (David Chase) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADIM: Scott Gillig leaves. Sorry Date: 30 Apr 1993 10:54:17 -0500 Message-ID: <1rri39INNhu@interceptor.ksu.ksu.edu> Well sorry. Any way I have moved to a place were they dont have any internet connections and I dont have access to a computer. And why am I posting here. Well first someone has gotten access to my account and even the sys ops and admin cant figure out how or why (they have even changed my password and some one still get in) and this person remove and changed most all my files to their liking. SO I dont have any ones address IE Kal & Co group please write Scott Gillig out of the group. There was and old man that Scott ran into before teaming up with you guys. He is an eldar (acient) wizard. Have him appear at the camp some time and grab Scott something along the line of "Scott Gillig. The time has come when you are needed." Scott would then disappear all his pack horses and equip left on them would be left his warhorse and those items that were very important to him for different reasons would be gone. Now why dont I write up something to this effect. Well simple I havent been on for several weeks, my setup is screwed up, and I dont know where or what the group has been doing why im gone. Sigh life is so much fun. David Chase aka Scott Gillig or is it Scott Gillig aka David Chase MagicHutchHeader From: fannicm@wkuvx1.bitnet (Master Hawk) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Redlin and Mel] Back for an hour or two Message-ID: <1993Apr30.141331.7066@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 30 Apr 93 14:13:31 CDT Mel runs on, half staggering over roots and branches. She thrusts her way through low branches that scrape across the side of her face. The moss seems to embed itself in the small cut that was now starting to drip. Drop after drop of bright scarlet blood stains the shoulder of her new leather waistcoat although it is hardly evident. Trees seem to loom out of the blackness towards her even though she would normally be at home here by night or by day. Her feet hit a hard rough stoney surface and then plough over it onto the soft grass. The noise of the sea and its breakers gets louder but all she hears is a rasping voice calling to her from behind. She feels fingers grasp at her ankle almost unbalancing her and the race is on again. All the time the voice grates at her. " Killing two comrades might be careless but three is murder. Its time for our revenge Mel, time for you to die ". Redlin knows none of this as he followes Mel through the thick brush, heedless of the minor scratches that he receives while forcing his way through the unresisting copse. He starts to worry as he hears the sounds of the sea become louder and Mel shows no signs of slowing or turning away. /* Cartog...Location relative to sea */ \* 25 meters directly ahead; 231 meters below; coverage: 79% of forward viewing angle *\ "damn...MEL! STOP! YOU'RE HEADING FOR A CLIFF!!" As her hands hit the ground and pushed off she thought she heard another voice distinct from her pursuers, but it sounded a long way off. Her feet regain their balance and she rushes through a gap between two trees, almost falling over a small wall composed of irregularly shaped rocks. Without stopping she hurles herself over the wall landing in a balled mass on what appears to be a large grassy field. Her momentum carries her onward, rolling in a tight ball down with the slope of the ground. The voice seems to falter and reality strikes her squarely in the face. The sound of the breakers is now deafening as they pound into the coast with power granted by a storm. They seem only feet away as she frantically flings her hands and legs out to stop herself from becoming part of the destruction on the coast. "NO!" Redlin clears the woods just in time to see Mel slide toward the edge of the cliff frantically trying to stop herself from going over the side. Never slowing he dives over the small wall of stone and lunges for Mel's hand or arm, trying desperately to be heard over the sound of the waves crashing into the rugged rock so far below. "MEL! GRAB MY HAND!" But he lunged a second too late, for Mel's momentum had already carried her over the edge and he felt his heart leap to his throat as the section of cliff he landed on began to slide away from its current home and rushed for the ground below. The crashing noise had brought Melandra back to herself but she could not prevent her fall as the grass was dragged out of the earth in clumps by her hands. Then she heard a shout from behind her. Someone was helping trying to help her but it was too late. She already felt the open space beneath her left boot. Her mind flashed through the limited possibilities and came to one conclusion, she had to stop her fall with magic. The phrase came instantly to mind, even as she toppled completely over the edge and entered her freefall. The words came out almost of their own accord and everything seemed to freeze as the concentration required for the spell seemed to slow down everything. The water and rocks got closer but she felt her descent slow and then turn into a very slow ascent. With relief she looked up, gasped and was knocked bodily into the water by Redlin and a large mass of earth. Redlin hit the water hard, not at all prepared for the landing. For a moment he entertains the notion of staying afloat, but when the mass of earth that had fallen with him hits him in the head, he goes under and the current grabs him with its implacable fingers and drags him even deeper into the water. {* And so you die, and I am lost beneath the waves where I can do not harm...for a while *} The dry, cynical voice of Adami fills his mind and revives him. *{ Not Yet, my friend }* /* Activate all systems, full strength */ Time seems to slow down for him as his implanted cybernetic systems come on-line. He feels the changes in the current and reacts to them flawlessly, he powers his way to the surface with muscles suddenly augmented in various ways. After an age, he broaches the water, not surprised to find himself quite some distance from shore, and scans the wavetops for any signs of Mel's body. He knows that the chances of them surviving are slim because there is no shoreline nearby, only this cliff enclosed cove and the open sea, but he looks anyway because he must try. Below the surface of the water, the water is pouring down into her as it chokes her half scream. The fear along with the similar situation sends her back into her nightmare. Mel feels the ashes flow down her throat and up through her nose, sending her into a flurry of activity. Her arms whip out wildly around her body and her legs flail in all directions. The salt water starts filling her stomach and she slowly stops thrashing and recognises what has happened. Her muscles begin to tighten as she slowly drifts to the surface but too slowly to help. Her thoughs come back to a former solution and find salvation. Her mind brings the dormant spell to mind and she starts to force her now waterlogged body upwards to break the surface of the waves and upward into the air. Coughing wracks her body as her head breaks the surface and the salt water pours out of her lungs and her stomach as she continues to float upwards away from the Sea but no less in danger than she was before. After a few minutes she has enough clean air in her lungs to focus her thoughts and stop her rapid progression upwards. Redlin sighes with relief when he sees Mel break free from the sea's cold embrace. He worries for a moment or two when he sees her bent over and spitting out water, but she seems to be recovering quickly. He waits, hoping that she will soon look his way so that he can wave her over, but before that can happen he feels something strike his leg, sending a burning sensation along the entire length of his body. He screams as his muscles convulse and he starts to slide under the water. Written in conjunction with Melandra FlameTree -- -=-=-=-=- _ _ _ _ , ' ) ) ) _/_ ' ) / / / / / __. _ / _ __ /--/ __. , , , /_ / ' (_(_/|_/_)_<__ Date: 30 Apr 93 19:02:01 -0400 There seemed to be at least twenty or so of the black demons attacking the three adventurers. Kyar and Aleric stood back to back surrounded by the ugly things. Aleric held Xel-ha in both hands and with great sweeping strokes hacked at their bodies. He took out two immediately by lopping off their knobbed heads. One, slipping in from the side, opened his fanged jaws to impossible width and prepared to take a large bite out of Kyar's leg. Aleric crashed his fist down onto its skull and knocked it away. He then skewered it on the broadsword and ripped upward. The noxious innards of the beast boiled out. It was not a pretty sight. From somewhere in Ildamar's direction, the two warriors saw a brief but blinding flash of light. The light momentarily showed the demons is sharp relief against the trees. These were obviously not ordinary demons to be called by any mage. The act of gating them here alone would have taken some power. Aleric and Kyar continued to hack and slash at the demons, protecting each other's backs like they had been doing it for years. The scent Aleric had noted earlier became stronger with each demon killed and more cloying. Still, they were making good headway against the demons. It was just a minor little skirmish after all, there were only twenty or so demons against three very capable warriors. MagicHutchHeader From: vi_paul@vax.cns.muskingum.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Nice Hat. Message-ID: <1993Apr30.194857.5115@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 30 Apr 93 19:48:57 -0400 [ADMIN] Hi everyone! I have been off to the plains of Oklahoma looking for a new home because I am graduating from this lovely establishment. I was also doing a silly little thing called a senior seminar, but on with the show...] It was almost time for Darkins watch to be over and Laurenth was coming to take her place. "Where have you been Laurenth? I haven't seen you for the past few hours." "I have been meditating not too far from here, just over there a little behind that large tree." "Trying to hide from me?" Darkin chided. "Well I am glad you are here now because I would like to go for a walk and stretch out my limbs. They are feeling a bit twisted at present." "Don't wander too far out. We don't know all that much about this area. Especially with strange people wandering into our campsight." "Now don't you worry about me. I CAN take care of myself, I have been doing it for quite some time." She pronounced as she strode silently away. Darkin struck off in the direction of the river. It was a quiet night with no clouds in sight and only slight light from the waning moon. She was not really tired. There was something that was touching the edge of her mind, but she couldn't quite place it. Shrugging off the feeling Darkin meandered down to the waters edge. Leaning against a large tree she stared into the water watching the gentle light reflect off the rippling surface. This was much better than being on the ship surrounded by the sea. At least this water was self contained. Wandering a little further down the bank Darkin found a perfect spot where a rock jutted out a little over the surface of the water. Lowering herself onto the rock she kicked off her footware and dangled her feet into the cool, rushing water. It was a refreshing and envigorating experience. It also woke her up out of the daze she had entered since leaving her post. She had not been taking in her surroundings carefully, yet she didn't sense any danger. Looking around she saw an indentation on the other side of the river a little further downstream. It was encased in the shadows of trees and other foliage. She thought she saw something moving around inside but only for an instant and then the motion ceased. After blinking a few times she looked again. She could almost make out a figure in the blackness. It was just a shade darker that the shadows around. {Now how am I going to get over there to investigate without getting all of my clothes wet.} After putting her shoes back on she went looking around for something to use, Darkin literally stumbled over a large piece of cloth. Upon closer examination she determined it was a cloak. {Who in the hell would leave such a nice cloak just lying around for someone like me to find. I wonder if they would miss it. Well we can't let this go to waste.} Walking back up the river a little ways Darkin found an old tree with a hole just about big enough for the cloak. {I'll Come back for this a little later.} Upon looking up Darkin noticed the tree was being choked to death by some very large and sturdy vines. Vines large enough to cross the river? {I think so!} Deftly climbing the tree she reached mid point in no time at all. After all she was experienced at climbing trees, fences and buildings. In her line of work it was a good trait to own. It was also good to keep in practice. After testing several vines she found one that was strong enough, and long enough. She didn't want to be getting wet, the water was nice on the feet but alittle cold for a midnight swim. With a jump Darkin careened out across the river to the other side. Catching another vine to steady herself she attempted to get into the tree on the other side of the bank, but the new vine was coming loose fast. With a quick motion she landed on the groung on the other side of the bank, soundlessly and without a scratch. Moving slowly she headed down to the spot in the river she had seen before. Out of the corner of her eye, Darkin thought she saw a flash of light. This was an interesting evening to say the least. She was almost at the tiny cove when she heard snoring, loud snoring. {Well, It won't be very hard to sneak up on this person.} Looking around a decently sized tree she noticed the sleeping figure was half emmersed in the water wearing Segoi's hat. {Well now isn't that an entertaining idea. He is so damn mysterious all the time and here he is with his guard down, and other things it looks like. Although it is hard to tell in this light.} Grinning to herself Darkin remembered the cloak she had hidden away. {Damn, I suppose I will have to return that. It is not prudent to steel things from large companions, nor any companions, but I take special care not to upset someone who can break me in half.} Reaching over the water, with one hand holdind on to a small sapling, Darkin grabbed Segoi's hat and exclaimed "Good morning sunshine!!" At that she scrambled up the nearest tree to await the aftermath. [ADMIN] I had been informed that I needed to get back into the story. Were you sure Mr. Sinister????????????????? }Z{ "Let friendship be your cloak and love be the light of your days." * * (_^_) U MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@lamar.ColoState.EDU (Alan Smith) Subject: [No Thread Yet] Palandun: A new arrival Message-ID: Date: Sat, 01 May 1993 06:37:51 GMT [ADMIN]: Please forgive the transgression by not sending everyone mail first. I have not recieved any replies as of yet, and, being loath to believe in cliquage, I figured my mail did not get through. So, I'm going to jump into this thing with both feet. Should anybody like my writing style (I am somewhat unpolished, but once I get the feel for this place, I'll do better) Just write me into your story, and maybe send me a note telling me you did so. [Begin Generica Story] There were four people standing at the gunwale of the _Loissa Ketchim_. One was holding a long-handled fishing net and staring intently at the water, the other three were skylarking, taking a break from the work of getting the merchantman into the Generican docks. "So," The tall, thin sailor said, "What will you do when we dock, Paladin." "M'name," The one with the net replied, not looking up, "is Palandun, and to answer your question, I dunno. HA!" This last was not directed at anyone in particular, but was accompanied by a swift dip of the net. Palandun pulled it in a three-inch long squid was entangled in it. "Hmmm. We're near land." He finished, examining the squid. "How can you tell that from that little squid?" The sailor asked. "I can't, I saw the towers." The passenger (for Palandun was one) replied. "It's just that we don' have this particular variety of squid back in Bismania." "So?" "So it's odd. This is documented as a near-shore squid, but we don' have any near the shores of bismania." "So?" "But they should be there. These guys are so ubiquitous..." He trailed off, seeing that he was loosing his audience. "Anyway, wha'd do you reccomend?" "Huh? Oh! For you, the Dragon's inn. Definitely the place for an adventurer like yourself." "I'm not an adventurer." Palandun replied, "I'm a student." "Be ye a Mage-kid, then?" The bosun asked, slipping into his native accent. "Ye'll want the Happy Mage, then." "Nuh-uh. Ah'll take th' Dragon's inn." Palandun slid into his. And so it came to pass that Palandun and the fourth seaman, who usually spoke just to keep his teeth warm, carried Palandun's luggage to the Dragon's inn. A room was purchased, and, while the student was hauling his stuff inside, the sailor was holding forth in the eatery. "Pippy!" a captain said, "We don't often see you here." "I came to introduce the new resident here, the bravest Bismanian I ever saw. Swam up to a leviathan and punched it in the nose, he did. We were beset by this leviathan, and he just dove in-" "Fell in." Palandun corrected, he had heard this tale distorted often enough. "And you neglect to note that 'We' was a rowboat with three people in it, not the _Louissa_." "Anyway, we were struck in the stern and the boat spun around, and Paladin here was taking notes standing up, so he just managed to pitch his notebook in the boat when he fell in. Then the leviathan charged us again and he punched it in the nose." "Did it help any?" The captain asked. "No." Palandun jumped in. "And my name is Palandun. Pleased to meet you all. We had to bind palm fronds to it. Apparently it had had holes gouged out of it by some kind of fish, and you know what happens when you get salt water in a wound." Palandun looks around for some kind of food server, wondering if they also serve who stand and look hungry. Palandun the Bismanian. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Forgeries and Counter-Feets Message-ID: References: <1993Apr14.192906.11612@data-io.com> Date: Sat, 1 May 1993 00:32:31 GMT [ADMIN] Another collaboration. Probably one or two more and then maybe Bernie will have caught up with school and Quals and might be able to join in his thread again (grin). ---- Four people wandered the labyrinths of the Mages' Guild. Three were women, two in somewhat outlandish garb - literally: the cut of their clothes was different from the local fashion, and the fabrics and decoration spoke of foreign lands and different climes - and the third was cloaked in thoroughly traditional magician's robes of colorful silk covered in dragons, embroidered and otherwise. The fourth was a man, middling tall and with the frame of a warrior, but twirling a mage's staff, black with gems and shod in metal. Leonaco was standing in front of the lab entrance. He blocked their entry, frowning in massive displeasure. "You would be 'Raelf, if the registry is correct." "Yes, if it is. Do you mind, I'd like to go inside." "Of course I mind. You've usurped one of my production facilities." "Baking powder?" 'Raelf growled, staring at the man. "What?" Leonaco shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the words. "I said, I beg your pardon? This laboratory is clearly marked as part of the Research Department facilities." 'Raelf pointed to the sign painted in neat letters on the opaque glass door-window. Leonaco shrugged. "That's unofficial. I've been using it for overflow production work for the last ten years." "Way cool, sorry to disrupt your schedules, but it's still registered with Research, and I need it for projects, so I signed it out. Check with Archmage Rivy. She handles all this stuff." "I'll do that." Leonaco sketched a sign in the air and vanished, irritated. "You probably shouldn't annoy him." Jameson tilted her head pensively. "Why not?" "I believe that's Archmage Leonaco. Head of Production. From what Nescie's told me, he's very powerful. And very grumpy." "He'll get over it - he wasn't doing anything critical in here, just had it set up as a materials factory. He could do that more efficiently if he had other methods, but then, he'd have them if he didn't keep taking people and facilities away from Research. What goes around comes back around and bites you on the arse." "Just be sure," chided ar'Elya, stroking a dragonet, "that he isn't what bites on YOU." She held the dragonet out for Kardia to examine, noting her continued interest. "Besides, that's MY job." She smiled. Kardia held out a fingertip for the dragonet to sniff and when the little creature rubbed it's head against her finger, she smiled and scritched it behind the ears as she looked at its jewel brightness. "Thanks." she said softly. It chirrupped a welcome. 'Raelf seemed lost in thought for a moment, his eyes focussed deep black on some unseen reality, then he snapped back to the present. "Right. Until then," he touched the staff to the door, <>. The door opened with a semi-nauseating twist in the wrong direction, revealing a room lit from overhead by klieg lights, or something very much like them, with two work areas clearly delimited under the lights. They entered, the door closing itself behind them with a SNAP. They approached the work areas. 'Raelf was working in both of them. Kardia whistled softly, looking from one 'Raelf to the other. Jameson just smiled. "Uhm, forgot to tell you, Kardia. I, uh, have this thing about making time to do what I need to do." "You're just showing off again," ar'Elya said reprovingly. Kardia blinked at ar'Elya's tone and then grinned. "Well, yeah, but not the way you mean." He led them into the closer work area, with a sort of tingle along the skin as a space-warp closed around them. The first thing they felt was the heat - the workspace was an open-brazier forge, but operating much hotter than such forges generally did in the absence of magical intervention. The instantiation of the blond mage working the forge was stripped to the waist, clad only in black jams which were marked up and down with runes that glowed the colors of fire. He had a framework, a foot-shaped anvil, cast in iron, around which he was shaping white-hot metal bands, using a small hammer and his bare hands. He nodded, but didn't interrupt the unusual moaning chant that accompanied his work - he reached into the coals, pulled out a hot strip of metal, laid it along the framework and sang to it as he did so, then fastened it with a word and a hammer-blow to the strip of metal that ran down along the centerline of the foot, providing a spring under the toe of the foot. One more, and (using a pair of tongs) he plunged the assembly into a barrel of black shiny liquid - the steam had a rank, oily stench that vanished as a small whirlwind formed and sucked it up. He pulled the boot out of the tempering liquid, and set it back on the form, then picked a small complex-looking piece of rock and silver wire from the lab-table nearby, fastening it to the toe and nodding, then removed the thing and put it back on the lab table, then put the boot onto the floor. "Pardon," he said to Jameson, reaching past where she stood by a cabinet, for a small block of silvery-grey metal, with a patina that in a high-tech place would definitely say "aluminum". "Step back a few feet, or hey, be useful and screen these folk," 'Raelf-working-metal said to his counterpart. "Rude boy," he replied, and extending his staff forward, <>. A dark-tinted wall sprang up between them, nearly opaque where the heat and light were greatest, nearly transparent elsewhere. The other nodded, and, chanting again, made the fire start growing much hotter - his body began to glow as the heat and light lit him internally. <> The bar of aluminum began shimmering, and began to sweat. Droplets of melted metal ran into the man's hands, and he began to spread the metal onto the foot form, where it foamed under his continued chanting, puffing like shaving cream. When he had the form covered, he clamped the boot around it, squeezing the last bits of aluminum-foam out the bottom. He scraped them loose, and pulled the form up off the anvil-stand, then removed the foot-shape, finally re-fastening the contraption of rock-and-wire into the toe, and clamped an ugly metal toe-piece down over it. <> he said, and, grabbing his shirt, waved, and vanished. "HEY! darnit!" 'Raelf shouted, and then began muttering to himself. "Oh stop, you knew this would happen," ar'Elya remarked, as 'Raelf began methodically shutting down the forge and cleaning up the work area, muttering in some old goblin dialect. Jameson's eyes widened slightly as she listened to him, then creased into smiles. "Uhm..." Kardia swallowed but still sounded petulant when she asked, "Aren't... aren't there supposed to be... uhm... problems...?" she shrugged, trying to find the words, "Uhm.. problems when someone travelling in time meets up with themselves? Oh... man... just thinking of how you'd have to be able think of time to do that makes my head hurt..." Jameson looked away from 'Raelf. "Try not to hold to reality too much. It helps." She began bouncing on the balls of her feet and looking about intently. Kardia sighed with resignation, "Right." 'Raelf finished wiping out the brazier with a cloth that he stuffed into a non-space, and returned to where the others were waiting. "Great. All cleaned up. Now, would you like to see what that ugly foot provided?" He grinned, and jabbed upwards with the staff, turning off the klieg-lights over the work area. A tingle of warping space, and they were standing in a small alcove of the lab between two work tables. "Are you supposed to be reconfiguring space in here?" ar'Elya asked, skeptically. She removed a dragonet from the table where it was trying to get into an alembic. "Nobody said not to, and besides, Urcohea knows that I know the control codes, so he has to know that I can do remote configures. We went over all that stuff when I helped him shut down the power taps." He shrugged. The other work area was a similarly expanded place, but the machinery was somewhat different. On one of the lab benches, 'Raelf's deck was out, with five different strangely-shaped crystal sticks inserted at various points. Instead of a holographic globe, though, four of the crystals were projecting rays of light that flickered, laserlike, over the chair-and-dome structure where a time-folding of 'Raelf was working. He ignored them, concentrating, as he looked through a double-eyepiece, moving his hands inside a pair of gloves. Inside the dome, tiny spots of light were moving across a small crystalline spider. Attached to the spider was the stone-and-wire contraption which had been inside the boot - in fact, the boot lay on the lab bench beside the deck. "Almost done," 'Raelf whispered, pointing to where his doppleganger was disconnecting the spider from the contraption. Jameson looked on curiously, walking around it in order to get a clear view, but avoiding the rays of light. "This is _not_ a machine, at least, not solely - you're using law of similarity to operate the waldo." "Most perspicacious babe," 'Raelf muttered to himself. "And I don't think the local Mages' Guild has anything that so nicely mimics a high technology design/fab unit," she wagged a finger at him. "Really getting into your work, eh?" ar'Elya chided, restraining the dragonets from getting into the deck. 'Raelf laughed, but didn't say anything else, so ar'Elya finally spoke. "I'll explain, since my mate is being his usual obscure self. The tool is a complex high-order illusion, projected from a design which he has on that blue-green memory crystal. He reinforces the parts of it that need to be more real, using some of his own virtual mass, which is a trick that he invented to cheat on an examination where his tools were limited." "Wasn't cheating, luv. Therr'u let us use whatever tools we could build, I just used what was available, to build better ones." "Virtual mass?" Jameson and Kardia started to ask at almost the same time. "Surreality check," 'Raelf grinned. "I told y'all we were from someplace different. You've seen Raye changing state all the time, right? And just now you saw me with my elemental-fire component turned all the way up. Well, the mass for this has to come from somewhere, so we keep it imaginary until we need it." "'Life is complex, it has a real part and an imaginary part.'" Kardia shook her head. "Does that make sense to you?" Kardia asked Jameson. Jameson nodded. "No. And Yes. And No. It makes the right kind of nonsense. Paradox embraced and also circumvented. Most magic is a matter of style and imagination." "Breaking the rules with panache, so you can get away with it?" "Exactly." She grinned at Kardia. Kardia shook her head and smiled back. Inside the dome, the spider came to life, scuttling over to a small box containing, among other odds and ends, a small bar of gold, from which it began scraping bits and pieces. It then went back to the stone-and-wire conglomeration which had been fastened to it, and spat out some thick gray liquid which dissolved the stone, leaving a tangle of wire and small precious gems suspended in its grasp. It began to weave a web of spun gold, fastening all the pieces in the web, making a small lump which it then spun into a lattice resembling the bones of the front quarter of a foot. After a few minutes, the web began to expand on its own, and the spider resumed the task of devouring the gold bar, secreting more web which spun itself into the growing structure.. Gradually, after a few minutes, the form of a foot became visible, and the spider began eating the silver wire, then some bits of other metals, bone, things which had been in the box with the gold bar. The last thing it did was to crawl onto the toe of the foot-sock, and after shaking for a moment, it melted, flowing into the toe. Kardia shifted her foot a little uncomfortably. 'Raelf-in-chair pulled the magnifier away from his eyes, blinked, and reached _through_ the dome to pick up the foot, then inhaled sharply, stretching. He walked over to the deck and touched a rune on its top, and the fab-station vanished. While the others waited, he dis-assembled the projector and stowed it away then came and stood next to himself, and addressed Kardia. "So, do you like the foot the way it is now? You've had it for ...hmm about three-four hours, would you like the non-prototype version or is this one fine?" Kardia blinked at the question. She shifted on her left foot again. "This works beautifully. I think I'll keep this one." "No you don't," ar'Elya said, grabbing him before he could vanish. "Give her the full details, stop being so obscure." "Sorry," 'Raelf said, abashed. "I keep assuming that really competent or powerful people will know the details. The foot itself hasn't been completely installed, that's why it's a prototype. If you like it, if you don't want to go for a different design, then you'd get the complete installation kit. It's a full cyber unit, it would become permanent." "Oh. Well. Without surgery?" "Of course. That's where magic has the advantage over tech." "OK ... do it then." "Great." He touched the gold foot-sock in his hand to the one she was wearing, and a slight SNAPing noise failed to echo through the room. The sock began to tingle, the skin on her foot feeling like she was standing in seltzer water. "What's it doing?" She pulled her sock down curiously. "Installing itself. You know the story of Lugh of the Silver Hands? Well, you'll be Kardia of the Golden Foot. See ya earlier." He vanished, leaving that annoying sparkly trail behind him in Kardia's vision. "What are the side effects?" she demanded, standing and facing the remaining 'Raelf. "What did you just do?" "Nothing serious. It won't come off, of course, like the eyes. It makes the nerve-connection better, and helps get rid of the problems with the support structure and the bones. It also prevents any nerve injury and rejection problems. And you get better control of the toes." "What was that weird noise?" "Oh. Installing the feedback information about nerve systems and bio's into the earlier foot so it could work more efficiently." Kardia thought for a moment about the feedback information being installed, before she ever had the foot on, realized what that meant, and decided not to try and think about it any more. "Well, finally," ar'Elya muttered. "They've gone. Except Little Rat." "What, you mean, the coast is clear?" 'Raelf grinned. "Right. Do you want to do the honors?" "Sure. Here goes." He repeated the motion he'd used earlier, raising his staff and pointing it at the klieg lights overhead, but when they went out, and the space closed around them, the room changed more suddenly. They were in a perfectly cubical room, twenty feet on a side, made of some hewn stone, glimmering with lichens. Through an open door, they could see an enclosed courtyard with a garden laid out. "Welcome to our lighthouse," ar'Elya said. ----- Kelly J. Cooper kjc@cs.rutgers.edu Liralen Li | "What you feel can make it real aka Phyllis Rostykus | real as anything you've seen..." li@Data-IO.com | - Peter Gabriel, _So_ Hutch (Combinatorial posts are such fun) hutch@ibeam.intel.com MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: please.Princeton.EDU!hibschmn (Johann Allen Hibschman) Subject: [JOI] Contact once more Message-ID: <1993Apr30.222721.29991@Princeton.EDU> Date: Fri, 30 Apr 1993 22:27:21 GMT As Quaeros sat by the edge of the camp watching Elanon chat with the mysterious newcomer, he began to feel the faint stirrings of a mental contact. He stood quietly and walked into the woods surrounding the campsite, leaving Elanon to deal with the stranger. Quaeros waited a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and then moved away from the group. As he walked, the faint stirring in his mind strengthened to a voice. The contact faded into mocking laughter. Quaeros jerked to a stop and looked at the woods around him. He had no idea of how far he'd walked or how much time he'd wasted. Picking what he hoped was the direction of the camp, he ran, hoping he could reach his companions in time. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac169@Freenet.carleton.ca (Darryl Farr) Subject: [JOI] Dancing with Demons Message-ID: <1993May1.090711.16674@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Sat, 1 May 1993 09:07:11 GMT As he crept silently through the dark woods, Ildamar detected a growing sense of unease among the trees. The brush was unnaturally silent, and even the insects had lost their strident voices. Suddenly, he heard a sharp crack, followed by a flurry of low, guttural mumbling. Peering intently to the limits of his sensitive vision, he could make out several large, hunched shapes shambling through the trees. There was also a peculiar scent in the air, cloying and musty, as bad as or worse than skunk musk. Glancing to his left, he saw that Kyar and Aleric had frozen, and seemed to be concentrating on something. Then, he heard a low-pitched rumbling noise coming from a short distance ahead. The shapes were growing closer. Ildamar faded into the shadows around a large oak tree, and slowly unsheathed his sword and dagger. Careful not to allow the moonlight to glint off of his blade, he remained perfectly still, waiting. All of a sudden, a black, rough-skinned humanoid rose up in front of him. Instinctively, Ildamar brought up his weapons to a defensive position. The creature took a tentative swipe at the weapons, cringing back and growling slightly as the sword darted out to touch its powerfully clawed hand. Another of the beasts arrived, and the two roared and sprang forward. Swiftly, Ildamar reacted, parrying the first talon with his long dagger, and replying with a short, sharp thrust to the creature's midsection while dodging the clumsy slash of the new arrival. The first monster clutched at its now bleeding abdomen and bellowed in pain. The second creature hesitated momentarily, but then, as if hearing something, renewed its ferocious attack. Ildamar dodged behind the oak tree and started a low, musical chant. As he reached the crescendo, he pointed his sword at the monster following him and wiggled the tip. The creature's eyes exploded in light as the spell took effect, and it echoed its companion's roars, clutching at its now useless eyes. Swiftly, Ildamar circled behind the beast and dispatched it with a quick sword thrust at the base of the neck. The demon collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut, its head still glowing eerily. Ildamar heard a whimpering noise behind him, and whirled to see his first attacker, one hand clutching the gash across its stomach, and the other one trying to shield its enormous eyes from the bright illumination thrown off by the corpse of the other beast. With a flash of inspiration, Ildamar finished off the dying demon and returned to the base of the oak tree, where the glowing corpse still shone. Kneeling, he hacked off the blunt, almost dome-shaped head, whispering a prayer of forgiveness to Branchala. He sheathed his dagger, and held the head aloft by the few strands of hair adhering to the scalp. Ildamar then hurried over to where Kyar and Aleric continued to battle their attackers and shouted sharply, drawing the beasts' attention to him. They cringed, shrinking away from the light, and the two warriors fell upon the demons. The fight was soon over, but grunts and bellows still rose from the surrounding forest, heading towards the camp. "Do you think maybe it's time to head back to the camp?" asked Ildamar. "Definitely," replied Aleric, still clutching Xel-Ha tightly, "and bring that...uh...head with you." "Boy, those things stink!" exlaimed Kyar as the three warriors loped through the forest, "Elanon can probably smell them coming by now." "Let's hope so," answered Ildamar. -Darryl Farr (aka Ildamar of Anaiatha) -- --{ Darryl Farr }{ I can get a job, I can pay the phone bills } { The Grey Man }{ I can cut the lawn cut my hair cut out my cholesterol } { ac169@freenet.}{ I can work overtime, I can work in a mine BNL: } { carleton.ca }{ I can do it all for you... but I don't WANT to! _Enid_} MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: Re: [JOI] Nice Hat. Message-ID: <1993May1.164826.448@ultb.isc.rit.edu> References: <1993Apr30.194857.5115@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: Sat, 1 May 1993 16:48:26 GMT >[ADMIN] I had been informed that I needed to get back into the story. Were you >sure Mr. Sinister????????????????? > ADMIN REP[ Oh very sure...(insert evil grin here)...] Segoi suddenly felt a hand reach out and grab his hat away. 'What! By all the gods!' he thought. Then he heard a familiar voice: "Morning sunshine!" 'Darkin' he groaned, then realizing that he was not really waring anythnig except a loin cloth forced his mind t action. With a sudden rush he left the water with speed that beguiled his size, vaulting high over Darkin's surprised head and landing behind her. Swiftly a hand darted out and snatched the hat away before she had a chance to turn around. "WWhat! Hey! Give that back!" Darkin protested, but her words came too late as she wirrled round only to catch the shadowy form of Segoi jumping back over her into the river. Darkin took a step back as the huge form careened over her, and missing her footing on the muddy slope of the bank tumbled towards the water. Cursing her unluck, her timing, Segoi, and other things in general Darkin plumited towards the water some 6 feet below. 'Looks like I'm going to get wet after all' she thought. Half way down her fall came to an abrupt stop, and with a gasped "UUFff" she felt herself being caught. 'Who the (gulp) oh', she looked up and saw the brim of Segoi's hat and those pale glowing blue eyes hidden beneath it. 'Now I'm gonna get it!' "Why did you take my hat little one?" his voice was different from the usual deep tones, a more mellow inquisitive one now, almost as if he was smiling, thought she could not see for the shadow of the hat. "It is said to let sleeping dragons lie, as not to encoure their rath. Though I may not be a dragon," she knew he was smiling now, "it is still dangerous to sneak up on me." Darkin for the first time had a chance to look at him close up, or at least some of him. He was not as large a the cloak made him, but still he was larger than any man she had ever seen. His chest was strange or the skin was, he had all the normal muscles she saw, but the texture was off. Seeing this turned her mind from his question as she tried to figure out in the half light what was wrong with this picture. "So how come you don't have any hair on you chest?" she proded him. This seemed to take Segoi aback in that he nearly droped her into the water. "Hey! Watch it!" she squeeled remembering how cold the water was. "Well...that is difficult to explain...or not so...well...ummm" he was stalling and she knew it. Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac559@Freenet.carleton.ca (Ian Clysdale) Subject: [JOI] New Horizons... Message-ID: <1993May1.205952.8639@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Sat, 1 May 1993 20:59:52 GMT Elanon looked over the newcomer, beginning to size him up, and wondering who this man was, and what he was doing here. But before he could begin to say anything to the man, he suddenly saw Quaeros dart off into the woods without a word. He turned towards the man, and coldly made some excuses for a while, and headed out to see why Quaeros had headed off so abruptly. Wandering out into the woods, he followed the trail that Quaeros had left. Even from this he knew that something was wrong, for although Quaeros was not the ultimate in woodsmen, neither was he a complete fool to leave the trail he had left. Suddenly, he heard heavy footsteps over to his left. Drawing his sword, and heading over that way as quietly and stealthily as his 230 pounds would allow him, he very nearly chopped Aleric in half when he met in half with the returning party. When he realized who he was dealing with, and what the three of them were carrying, he began to understand why Quaeros had reacted as he had... His connections with the otherworld must have allowed him to feel the presence of the demons. It was then that his thought wandered towards Quaeros, for Quaeros was not returning with this party. He quickly inquired if he had met them and gone to examine the area of the fight, or if the scouting party had any idea of his location. But when it turned out that the three had not encountered Quaeros, he began to worry at the various possibilities -- had Quaeros been captured, or possessed by the demons, or even been working with them the duration? Elanon still was not sure of the problematic death priest, who seemed to fudge around constantly on his beliefs, and merely keep those that suited his needs of the moment, or the needs of his companions. Though he could hardly call his healing of Segoi a bad thing, it had given him doubts that had been steadily accumulating since. Elanon briefly filled Kyar in on the events that had happened in his absence, ending with the visit of the stranger. He appointed Kyar to deal with the man, explaining that he was planning to search for Quaeros. "Call it merely a foolish piece of paranoia," he said, "but I've learnt that it's better to be safe than to regret what could have been." With this, Elanon tossed on his black cape and cowl, and wandered off into the dark of the night, cursing Quaeros for losing himself, cursing the newcomer for raising too many worries and questions, cursing himself for ever trying to do anything about the world around him. -Elanon of Ullswater- -- Ian Clysdale | "Listen... it's REALLY easy... We Elanon of Ullswater | just charge in here, and chop them Enemy of Qar'Tima | all up with our swords..." ac559@freenet.carleton.ca | -Last words of a foolish gamer... MagicHutchHeader From: vi_paul@vax.cns.muskingum.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] The Laughter Returns Message-ID: <1993May1.212216.5141@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 1 May 93 21:22:16 -0400 Segoi was holding Darkin over the water, which was not a very comforatable situation for her. {I really ought to get him to put me on solid ground before I make him any madder than I already have. Some people just can deal with a little good clean fun.} "Do you think you could set me down over there on that nice solid ground?" Darkin asked looking In Segoi's direction. The light was really bad in this section of the woods so it was hard to see his face. "Not just yet little one. What were you doing sneaking up on a person who was just resting calmly in a refreshing pool of water?" "Refreshing?! That water is darn cold, And I really don't want to know exactly how cold it is... so if you would just let me down over there... besides your arms must begetting awfully tired about now." Darkin babbled while skirting the real question. "My arms are just fine where they are. What are you doing here and why did you steal my hat?" Segoi demanded shaking Darkin just enough to let her know he may just let go if she didn't answer soon. "I was just walking along the river and I thought I saw something over on this side so I cam over to see what it was. Then I heard snoring and saw you here. Well i can't see much, but I recognized your hat... so I thought I would just have a little fun. There was no harm meant." She finished with an impish little grin. "So will you please put me on the ground?" "This time yes. But you still have a few more things to answer. Why arn't you at your post? And why are you wandering around an area you don't know? I could have been anyone, and may have ripped you in two." "Well you weren't just anyone, and I am not unarmed. Besides if I hadn't recognized your hat I would..." Darkin broke off in mid thought as the laughter roared up in her mind blocking everthing out with it. Something was very close to where they were. She recognized the all too familiar laughter. It had been in her mind for the past hour but she hadn't recognized it. It was all but silent. Now it was a thunderstorm in each cell of her brain. A few minutes had passed and then it was gone. Darkin was exhauseted. That power was close and it was strong. It had been communicating with someone or something close by, but that was all she could feel. It would have been impossible to miss. When she opened her eyes and began to feel again she found herself lying on the ground near Segoi. "Are you alright? You blanked out on me little one." The voice that spoke to her was not the same as before during her inquisition, but boardering on... on... friendship? "We have to get back to camp. There is something going on, I am not sure what... but something has happened." Darkin felt weak. This last episode had drained her far more than she had realized. She blacked out again. }Z{ "You've got to talk without speaking, cry without weeping, scream without raising your voice." --U2 MagicHutchHeader From: dan@tbone.biol.scarolina.edu (Dan Schar) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [new character] Date: 2 May 1993 01:45:34 GMT Message-ID: <1rv93uINNeea@bigbird.csd.scarolina.edu> References: The character that i have come up with is a 12 year old that is named Jorma. He is a self made orphan, ran away from an evil family or theives. He runs away after one of his families jobs ends up killing two people, one of which a child about his age. He at that point decides to run away. He takes some money he has, and gets fair on a boat, and comes to Generica. He spends about 4-5 months wanderin generica, and one day wanders into the Dragon Inn. He comes in lookin for any possible oppertunities as an asistent to a mage, cleric, or well, that is realy what he is lookin for. Pardon the type error. So, if there are any people who are lookin for an apprentis, please write him in. I will not beable to do anything for about a week, or so, but after that i will be able to contribute. I have a bunch of notes on his past, and have a cituation with him on being hounted by the face of the little kid he saw killed. Any way, that is the basic shell of the character i came up with. let me know if anything can come out if this ...dan.... -- Dan Schar (Internet: dan@tbone.biol.scarolina.edu) (803) 777-8998 Department of Biology, University of South Carolina, Columbia SC 29208 MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu (Daniel Steven Reinker) Subject: [blade] Meshtak and Blade knock their way out Message-ID: <1993May2.045955.9055@cheshire.oxy.edu> Date: Sun, 2 May 1993 04:59:55 GMT Meshtak casts his eyes nervously upward at the creaking roof, then around for escape. Sir Tyrone indicates a drainage pipe, but one look and Meshtak realizes it will be a tight crawl for him, and Blade himself had no chance of getting in there. The draga looked at Blade, thinking the cave-in likely wouldn't hurt him, but if Meshtak left him, who knew what trouble Blade would get into? Besides, thought the plainsman, as he looked at the pipe, entering there was practically inviting claustrophobia. Just then, the roof made a sickening lurch, and Meshtak looked up to see it start to give. Before he could think, Blade was beside him, smelling like well-oiled steel. "Fowwo 'e!!" the motherspawn spoke, and Meshtak didn't think, only trusted and followed. Blade plunged toward the wall at a sprint, and smashed through it at a dead run. It didn't even slow him, he just bashed through the wall as fast as he could run. Meshtak didn't think, just followed him through, dimly aware of rocks collapsing behind him and around him. And then, before he knew it, the wind whipped rain in his face, and Meshtak knew they had made it. They were outside. It was raining like mad, and the wind was whipping things at them at enough speed that even the smallest twigs hurt like arrows. Meshtak cast his eyes around, and noticed the temple to Joyla, the All-Bringer, marking the change from eastside to lowtown. The temple was solid stone, unbendable in the storm, and Meshtak struggled to make his way to the structure. He lost sight of Blade until he was in the shelter of the temple. Searching frantically, he made out the vague outline of the motherspawn through the pouring rain. The massive behemoth stood, stoicly, in the middle of the storm. Waiting. Meshtak the Draga -- "You can't help that. We're all mad here." - The Cheshire Cat, Alice in WL "Twisting under schizophrenia/ Falling deep into Dementia" - Metallica Subscribe to the CJ mailing list! Send e-mail to dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu. Include your e-mail address!!!! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@lamar.ColoState.EDU (Alan Smith) Subject: [No Thread Yet] Palandun: A day on the town Message-ID: Date: Sun, 02 May 1993 05:44:10 GMT References: After feeding and staying up late carousing with the boys, girls, and what- have-yous, Palandun stumbles up to bed. He pushes into his room (the quantity of alcohol he drank prevents the question 'I locked my door, didn't I?' from taking any kind of a hold on his brain), sheds his outer garments, and slides into bed, rolling onto his side to be confronted with the visage of a largish blonde woman just as she wakes up in surprise. "Aaaaaa!" They both exclaim, leaping out of bed to opposite ends of the room. The woman grabs a *BIG* two handed sword and pulls it out, waving it menacingly. "What the hell are you doing here?!" Palandun demands, meanwhile looking around wondering when he bought most of the things in there. Just about then a large number of well armed people come crashing into the room. "I rented the room, what are you doing here?" The woman demands, oblivious to the fact that those people not about to skewer Palandun were drooling at her mostly naked visage. "..." Palandun says, doing his best fish imitation. There is too much input for his alcohol-riddled brain. The situation is saved by Littlefair and Mary, who spend the next half an hour putting the foreigner in his right room and answering his suddenly remembered demands for a *LOT* of water. Nevertheless he gets up perfectly healthily and shuffles down to breakfast, bumping into his earstwhile bedmate in the process. "Listen, I'm sorry about that." he says. "Buy me breakfast and we'll call it even." She replies, chuckling, "my name is Ja'nis." "Palandun." The breakfast was tasty, Palandun had thought that they mispronounced 'Short order cook.'... Until he met the cook. "Be dipped." He mumbled to himself, "was a short ogre cook." "You should see the barkeep." Norm replied. They chatted for a while: Ja'nis was a mercenary, just released from taking a convoy south and looking for a guard's job on Merchant hill. She didn't approve of people taking too much of an intrest in rats. "Nasty, verminous creatures, them." She noted. "That reminds me." Palandun replied, "I have to find the chief diplomat." Palandun found and delivered himself into the Diplomatic residence. "Hi!" He said, introducing himself, "I'm the ambassador from Bismania." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hibschmn@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Johann Allen Hibschman) Subject: [JOI] More lies Message-ID: <1993May2.013157.7939@Princeton.EDU> Date: Sun, 2 May 1993 01:31:57 GMT Quaeros ran throught the forest, pushing through the underbrush which clawed at his exposed skin. He was no woodsman; it seemed that every step he made was on dry twigs and loose rock. As he ran, he whispered incanations of injury, corruption, and poison to the daggers at his side. Soon he could sense them responding, filling with the poison magics. So intent was he on running that he almost did not see the hulking black creature as it lumbered towards him, reaching out with its wickedly curved talons. As it swung, Quaeros ducked under its blow, rolled, and came up slightly awkwardly into a defensive crouch, both daggers drawn and held ready. He had never been the best fighter, but he had always done respectably well at the Temple training sessions. At least he had possessed the sense to attend the classes, unlike some of his fellows. This creature was slow. As it swung at him once more, Quaeros had little trouble slipping beneath its arms and plunging his dagger into the center of the thing's chest, where a normal being's heart would be. He could feel the dagger release one of its doses of poison, injecting it deep into the center of the demon. His recovery was not so elegant, however, and the creature batted him aside with its powerful arms, sending Quaeros sprawling into the brush to the side. Attempting to roll out of his fall, Quaeros struck the bush and tripped, falling face first to the rough ground behind it. /It was a lot easier to do this on the mats,/ he thought, as he lifted himself off from the ground. Swiftly turning back to face the creature, he could see it swaying uneasily and shaking its head. /At least the poison seems to be having some effect on it./ Quaeros backed off as the creature lumbered towards him, then rushed forward and attacked. This time he could only strike its arm, but he felt his dagger inject another dose of poison. Slipping away from the demon, Quaeros watched as it started to follow him, then shudder and fall to the ground. From here, the trail to the campsite was plain, and Quaeros hurried towards it, hoping that he would not be too late. As he ran, he felt the distinct twinges of a mental contact reforming. He groaned as the calm voice filled his mind once more. About this time, Quaeros ran head first into a tree and fell back to the ground, dazed. The contact faded, and Quaeros picked himself off of the ground. To his left he spotted a small stand of trees surrounding a large boulder, which he remembered from his scouting walks around the campsite. That meant the camp must be to his left as he faced the rock. He broke into a run towards camp and, rounding a thick tree trunk, almost impaled himself on Elanon's readied sword. "Quaeros! We were worried when we saw you were gone," offered Elanon, still holding his sword at the ready. "Oh, Elanon, it's good to see you! Demons! All around!" panted Quaeros, his eyes slightly wild. "It's okay. We know. We've fought them off with no losses. Everything's fine now. I was a little concerned when I saw you break off like that earlier." "HE was talking to me, inside my mind. I ran and ran, but _he_ was still there, following me. The demon. From the vision. On the ship. He's following me. He wants something from me. Lies! He told lies about everything!" "Now calm down. Everything is okay. There's no one here now, so why don't you just go back to camp and relax and try to sleep. We should be leaving this place in the morning; they've found us and now we must make haste. Go to sleep." "All my fault. It's all my fault. Everything." "Get some rest. We'll take care of it now." Quaeros nodded and stumbled back towards the campsite, leaving Elanon filled with doubts and questions. As Quaeros walked off, Elanon stood awhile in thought, watching him walk away. Finally he shrugged and set off back towards camp himself. Perhaps he could talk this over with the others. MagicHutchHeader From: s924739@yallara.cs.rmit.OZ.AU (Barry M Prismall) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: A Ranger/Mage walks in. Keywords: Tarkyn Message-ID: <18530@goanna.cs.rmit.oz.au> Date: 2 May 93 07:22:36 GMT Closing the pages of his leather bound journal and carefully stowin it in a pouch at his side, Tarkyn dismounts his steed. After securely tying the reins to the hitching post he makes his way into the inn. A smile escapes his lips as he notices the numerous people standing in dark corners, just watching. Many an eye gazes in his direction as the ranger garbed in green and black finds a seat towards the center of the grand inn. Aranging the two rune swords at his side so that they do not dig into him, Tarkyn catches the attention on the barkeep who nods once. Like always the master of the inn has prempted a customer, and on a wooden tray brings forth a foaming ale. The first sip brings forth memories of a time deep in the forests when he was being taught of the power that can be drawn from the world around you. A time when Tarkyn was learning the fundamentals of herb law and as an apprentices had dabbled in the art of fermentation. But never was it this good... Taking another sip he allows himself to relax further into the trance. Opening his eyes into that of his past, a scene of giant forboding trees fills his vision as if he way observing the scene from above. Slowly the perspective changes as the astral body focuses on a group of people below. Withered and gnarled as the great oaks, a man wheezes, "Young Tarkyn remember this always for this shalt be your last lesson...You ask me about power....we all have power...I can see from your eyes that you think that the ways of the source can bring you fame and riches...that I do not deny...But with every thing you gain you also lose something else...remember this...." With that last word the ranger is returned to the present, tears in his eyes and the words, "Every thing you gain you also lose" floating chaotically in his mind. What had he lost when he had used the rune swords to draw part of Raoh's power into his beeing Certainly his own skills in the ways of the source had clearly magnified, his aura more intense than ever before...but what had he lost... Draining the last of the ale from his pitcher Tarkyn decided it is time again to test his mettle against the world...putting to use his newfound power and searching for that he had lost. From a pouch at his side he removes a piece of parchment and in a flowing script writes the following message. [ADMIN] Can this be added to the next bulletin board list Ranger on the path of the source seeking work. Skilled as a tracker and healer. Also student and practitioner of the numerous forms of magic. I can be contacted by leaving a message at the bar. Tarkyn... [Barry Prismall. s924739@minyos.xx.rmit.oz.au] After pinning the message to the board with the other messages Tarkyn takes a room at the inn and turns in for the night. MagicHutchHeader From: kjc@aramis.rutgers.edu (Kelly J. Cooper) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Birthday party and Invasion Keywords: compromise Message-ID: Date: 30 Apr 93 21:25:51 GMT Hiho, Kelly J. Cooper here, writer of Jameson W. Walker. I wanted to propose a compromise of sorts regarding the Birthday of alt.pub.dragons-inn and tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie's plan for the Sorcerer Finale. I think I might like the idea of a big party. Then again, it IS soon after the [Storm] thread and people should be allowed to let their characters do their own thing. (In fact, I don't even know if I'm going to have time for it myself). That's why I'd propose that the party happen in the Market Area, BEGINNING May 12. (This way, people have over a week to coax their story lines around to dealing with it, should they decide they want to do so.) Remember the Town Square? The huge area near the East Gates where the open (legal) market happens every day, and is completely chaotic at the end of the week when the farmers come in? (If not, check your Tourist's Guide folks!) I say, hold it there. Let those who wish to involve themselves go to it. Those who wish to mention it peripherally can feel free. Those who want to ignore it completely can be involved in other things and not notice. SOMEONE should coordinate it, or at least throw together some general atmospheric outlines for others to build upon. I am not volunteering. Yet. This goes for people dealing with the [sorc] thread as well -- involve, periphery or ignore. Since he seems to want his events to happen in and around the party, it'll be mostly designated to that area. I would prefer if the Demonic Invasion did NOT happen, as it's somewhat intrusive (and YET ANOTHER disaster ... I'm tired of disasters), but if it's going to anyway, I would like it to be contained. This is *my* _opinion_ only. Thank you for your attention. Kelly J. Cooper kjc@cs.rutgers.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@lamar.ColoState.EDU (Alan Smith) Subject: [No Thread Yet] Palandun: A day on the town II Message-ID: Date: Sun, 02 May 1993 20:17:18 GMT References: "You?" The secretary says, looking at Palandun incredulously. "Yes. Me. The bismanian position of ambassador consists largely of making up a plausible lie when we break a treaty obligation and going to balls. Seein' as our two countries don't have any treaty obligations, pretty much anybody could fill the job. So I'm here. Tell the DIC he can find me at the Dragon's Inn if he needs me." "DIC?" "Dude-In-Charge. I forgot where I was." Palandun hands over his credential and walks out. Palandun decides to take a walk, and begins wandering around the city. Late in the day he finds himself south of Merchant's hill, in a really, really, really seedy part of town. 'Looks like the tenements in Wingdoc-Kem.' Palandun thinks, recalling a place he was in the fourth orc war. "So, private Palandun." a voice says. Palandun spins around, recognizing the voice, but not the body that belongs to it. A large man, limping on his left side and wearing a black cape. He also has a medallian of a silver bird with a single talon extended and a tatoo of a black hand holding a lightning bolt on his left hand. "My name is now Rackesh." He says holding up a hand. Palandun half-draws his sword. "Interesting choice. It's Lieutenant Palandu now. We had another war after you left." "Oh? How was it? Did you court-martial your commanding officer?" "It was a class II operation." Palandun said, answering a different question entirely. "Unless you thought Grishnala's virtue was of strategic value?" "Don't joke with me anymore. And put Gynsoo away, I have you covered by crossbows." Palandun moves his eyes around, the sword slides back into it's sheath. He starts searching for some kind of missile weapon. "What do you want of me?" Palandun asks. "Just this: You ruined my life once, stay away from me and mine or I shall give you no mercy." The figure turns and disappears into the shadows. A dark cloaked figure enters the common room, looking for a corner to lurk in. "Drat it." Palandun says, "all the corners are filled." he de-cloaks and grabs a seat in the middle, wondering what he should eat today. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: mreinker@nyx.cs.du.edu (matthew Reinker) Subject: Re: [blade] Gortok moves through the sewer Message-ID: <1993May3.001344.3651@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> References: <1993May2.045955.9055@cheshire.oxy.edu> Date: Mon, 3 May 93 00:13:44 GMT A strange stasis had enveloped the entire group. Just as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone. Gortok found his feet free from the ice that had snared him and the others were moving off. The Droga hefted Arcadio over his shoulder and motioned for the undwarf to follow. A rumblimng had filled the sewer. A familiar rumbling that filled the heart of Gortok with fear. Cave-in. To many friends had died when that sound was heard. He was in grave danger. HE moved to follow, when the cieling collapsed, and he was cut off, Trapped. Gortok looked at the wall of debris, and waited for the rumbling to cease. If he tried to disturb the rubble before it settled, he could get himself killed. He waited for long momments until all was quiet. Once agin, he pulled forth his axe. Such a beatiful weapon. He had thought it indestructible, until he had chipped it on Blade's metal hi... The edge of the axe was undamaged! The axe had healed itself! He would look this up in his instruction manual later. Right now he had to get himself free. The last time he had tried the spell of decay, he had called the spell of vermin instead. Filling a bar with rats, mice and lawyers. This time he would get it right. "Decloh? No, that's ferment wine. Golock? No, my uncle. Deyack! That's it!" He pointed the axe toward the ceiling. "Deyack!" A rumbling filled the room as the roof became unsteady, Gortock headed toward a near wall and huddled under a stone outcropping. Suddenly, the roof transformed to dust and collaped in a cloud. rain started to pour through the hole. Coughing, he pulled himself from under a mountain of dust and climbed up to the hole. Once out of the ground. (getting temporarily stuck, It wasn't that big a hole.) He used his axe to find the power of Tyrones sword. Once found he ran off toward the source. ADMIN: Sorry to take so long to catch up. I'd just about given this thread up for dead. Glad to see it continues. -- "Pathetic victims of arrested development! * mreinker@nyx.cs.du.edu Prepare to hear the VOICE of REASON!!!!" * (Matt Reinker) ~~~~The Chainsaw Vigilante~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I have no idea where these opinions came from. It's not my fault!!! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: Re: [JOI] The Laughter Returns Message-ID: <1993May3.003752.19436@ultb.isc.rit.edu> References: <1993May1.212216.5141@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: Mon, 3 May 1993 00:37:52 GMT Segoi looked at Darkin from under his hat, she was a fisty one, but right now she looked very confused and afraid. "You need have no fear of me little one," this time a little of the moon light shone on his face just enough so that Darkin could see a smile of sorts and two little pointy things at the corners of his mouth. "I mean you no harm and carry no anger for the act, if anything you gave me a reason to smile, something I have not had in many years." Looking slightly confused at his soft tone, and just the general mayhem that was going on in her head Darkin, cocked her head to one side and tried again to get a good look at his face, but to no avail. "Now hold on tight," picking up the confused Darkin again Segoi turned and took a few running steps towards the river. "Oh no you don't! Your not getting me WET!" cried Darkin. This was not the case as with a great leap Segoi cleared the river where it narrowed to 20 feet or so landing softly on the other side. "See, now that was not that bad." Again she knew he was smiling. "Now where did you put my cloak?" Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [ADMIN] Alfvaen Phone Home Message-ID: Date: Sun, 2 May 1993 18:15:44 GMT Aaron - every published route to you is bouncing. Please send or publish a working route. uunet and kakwa alike don't like you. MagicHutchHeader From: rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Reflections, and an Introduction... Message-ID: <1993May2.233114.7096@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 2 May 93 23:31:14 CDT References: <1993May1.205952.8639@freenet.carleton.ca> Kyar could feel the presence of another being approaching, but relaxed when he recognized a familiar aura. It was Elanon. A few moments later, he slipped out of the trees near Aleric, sword at the ready. > Elanon briefly filled Kyar in on the events that had happened > in his absence, ending with the visit of the stranger. He appointed > Kyar to deal with the man, explaining that he was planning to search > for Quaeros. "Call it merely a foolish piece of paranoia," he said, > "but I've learnt that it's better to be safe than to regret what could > have been." > With this, Elanon tossed on his black cape and cowl, and > wandered off into the dark of the night, cursing Quaeros for losing > himself, cursing the newcomer for raising too many worries and questions, > cursing himself for ever trying to do anything about the world around him. Kyar was somewhat concerned. Elanon seemed to be an a particularly foul mood, and he hoped the red-haired adventurer would find his good humor again. "Be careful my friend!" Kyar called as Elanon stormed off, but worried less for the big man's safety than for his peace of mind. With that, Kyar pulled the hood of his great black cload up over his head, and gathered its folds around his body, leaving only the silver clasp of his shirt visible beneath. He had noticed that many of the party members wore black garments. "Practical," he thought. He concetrated again on the Phadra as the trio of warriors wandered slowly back towards the camp. He drew in as much of the power as he could, enjoying the feeling of it in his body. He thought back to his days of training as a youth... He had always been admonished for his lack of discipline in keeping himself in tune with the power of the Phadra. He reflected on the events that had transpired this night... He knew that he had not truly been prepared for the attack on the camp. Indeed, if faced with a more serious adversary he would have been sorely outmatched if alone. He thought back to the lessons of his old master. If back in the temple he would surely be whipped for his lack of preparedness! "Always the power should flow through you, like a waterfall." the master told him for the thousandth time. "Yet you, boy, use the Phadra like an old tool, getting it out when it is needed, and forgetting it when your task is done. You must learn to be one with the Phadra, and then you will accomplish all that you set out to do. Discipline is the key, therefore you will..." and then the old man would assign him some impossibly long job, which would take him well into the night. The other students would wait up for him, though, always sure to mercilessly tease the "round eye." Yet the other students were insignificant to Kyar-- he alone showed more affinity for the Phadra than all of the others put together. He knew this to be the only reason he was allowed to remain at the school. Kyar found himself sinking into the same mood that Elanon seemed to have been in. He shook his head as if to clear it, and glanced over at the demon head Aleric carried by its stringy hair. As if for the first time, he seemed to understand the masters lesson. His lack of discipline endangered not only himself, but the companions he grew closer to with each passing day. He resolved to himself anew to change, and to pursue his training in the way of the Phadra with more determination. Aleric was a mystery to him. So strong in the Phadra, yet unaware of it. The warrior glided effortlessly through the trees, aware of everything around the group. Kyar kept up his presence sense, however. One could never be too careful. He glanced over his shoulder at Ildamar. The ranger moved silently as well, with a practiced ease. He seemed to be at one with the moonlit forest, yet his thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. Kyar guessed the ranger to be wondering about his lost bride, somewhere on this strange world that he had travelled to to find her. The trio arrived at the camp, finding Laurenth on sentry duty. Kyar smiled warmly at the quiet woman in passing, although he doubted she could see it under his hood. Then again, one never knew with mages. Kyar spotted the stranger near the fire, standing alone. He was a large man, much more so than Kyar. Kyar walked slowly over to the newcomer, raising both hands to throw back the hood of his black cloak as he did so. He stopped a few feet away, looking up at the taller man. "I am Kyar of Ra Kati. Elanon, the leader of our group, has asked me to speak to you, and to learn of your intentions here. You are welcome, at least for now, but you must forgive us if any have been... less than polite. We have had a difficult journey of late. Why don't you sit down and tell me about yourself?" Jason MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: jurdm@valiant.vut.EDU.AU (Firecat) Subject: Firecat's return Message-ID: Date: Mon, 3 May 1993 04:24:36 GMT As he rode in on Shadow, tired and exhausted from the adventure of Roah The Conqueror, Firecat still felt as if his purpose of life had not been fulfilled. Seeing the familiar sight of the Inn coming towards him through the evening shadows, he realised how much he had come to depend on it's presence as a comfort at the end of a tiring journey. Loosing Shadow to wander into the forest, he wearily climbed the steps to the door. Pushing the door open, the familiar smells and sounds caused him to realise that he actually felt homesick for this place. Finding his table, he ordered his usual Burgundinian Special and a plate of fries, smiling at the familiar faces in the room and at Serene. After finishing his meal, he asked for a room to be made available for him if that was possible, and walked up to the room Serene had told him would now be his. As he slept, he dreamt, but afterwards could not remember what it was that he had dreamt about, but he knew he had a smile on his face when he awoke, and that he felt at peace. -- This is my .sig until further notice... Mail jurdm@valiant.vut.edu.au with any comments, opinions, statements, or even facts.... Also known as: Fablox, Snowlock and Duncan .....in many different places... MagicHutchHeader From: vi_paul@vax.cns.muskingum.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] exit stranger stage right Message-ID: <1993May3.151147.5146@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 3 May 93 15:11:47 -0400 [ADMIN] Since Mark has not gotten off his but and posted anything yet I have found a way to dispose of our "stranger" and allow a way for him to re-enter if he so chooses. Realizing she had not gotten wet in the process of crossing the river, Darkin looked up at Segoi in a new light... more ways than one. The light was more perceptable on this side of the river and a few more of his features could be distinguished in the half light. Unfortunatly Darkin was not able to get a good look because Segoi moved into the shadows almost at once. "Where have you put my cloak?" "Why do you hide in the shadows?" Darkin said avoiding the question. It was a skill she was quite good at, but Segoi wouldn't back down. "Where have you put my cloak?" He repeated. "I put it in that tree down there, but in order to get there you are going to have to go through that patch of moonlight. So you have your choice, you can either explain yourself now or walk through that light over there and all will be revealed." Darkin smirked to herself thinking she had won the battle. "Not so fast little one. I can wait till the moon loses its light in a little under an hour and retrieve my cloak. You could save us both some time and get it for me. Considering all that has happened I think it may be wise to return to camp. If you do this I may someday tell you about my life." Segoi knew he had her. A little promise here and there never hurt, especially one that didn't need to be kept right away. Considering her options and the need for sleep Darkin opted for choice number three. "O.K., so you think you can get me to do what you want... not this time. I want some answers and since you don't seem to be willing to give them to me. I am going back to camp with or without you. Who knows I may just hide beyond those trees and watch you until you go for your clothing, then again I may not. Either way I am leaving. I can take care of myself. See you back at camp." Darkin left smiling to herself. When she was in the relative safety of the light she turned and looked back. Black against black she could see Segoi's outline. She knew he was smiling. With a defiant flip of her hair she trotted back to camp. The night was rather pleasent, all things considered. Everyone in the camp seemed to be awake. Laurenth was the first person that Darkin encountered on the way in. "Laurenth, what has been going on since you took over watch. Looks like a lot. What is that thing that Kyar has over there?" Laurenth filled Darkin in on all the details of the seemingly endless night finishing with the stranger who was currently standing near the fire that Aleric was tending. Something was not right about this situation. Call it womans intuition or whatever, but Darkin knew there was something wrong. That was not a human. Whomever that thing claimed to be was not the truth. "Laurenth, I do not have a good feeling about..." Darkin began All at once things began to happen. The creature threw off its cloak and leaped at Kyar. In one fluid motion Darkin reached for her daggers and sent them flying without a second thought. One flew by Kyar's left ear and the other his left shoulder missing him by fractions. One found its mark in the creatures throat and the other slid neatly into its right eye with a gentle pop. Befor the creature was dead it manage to scratch Kyar in his left thigh as he moved to the right to avoid contact. "What in the hell?" Aleric exclaimed poised over the demon with various implements of destruction. The ever ready warrior was busy tending the fire not watching, this time he was a little late and sorry he missed the action. "Whatever it was, it was not what it claimed to be." Darkin replyed directing a cold stare at the creature. Upon closer examination "It" Looked to be an overgrown black lizzard with teeth too large for its head and claws to match. "This could possibly be one of the upper class demons called a Reaper. I have never seen one but I had learned a bit about them. They are summoned specifically to roam about the upper world and do the bidding of the summoner. They are sent to kill." Laurenth added her two bits. "When the smaller demons failed to complete thier task it was his duty to kill all those that survived. He was probably gathering all the important information first to make sure he could finish the job. With my guard slightly relaxed as well as Alerics he must have thought it was a prime time to strike. Fortunatly he didn't take Darkin into consideration." Kyar concluded. At this time Laurenth had been examining Kyar's leg and proceeded to announce the cut had not been deep and the claws of the demon were not laced with poison. Taking a strip of cloth from one of her bags she dressed the oozing wound. }Z{ "Rats are my worries, snakes, my fears bats, my enemies bugs, my tears." --J.A.Z. MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Recriminations Message-ID: <1993May3.171405.5147@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 3 May 93 17:14:05 -0400 Aleric stepped back from the corpse warily. He had made a mistake that time and Kyar could have paid with his life. Aleric berated himself. Aleric continued cursing himself mentally for his lack of alertness. He sheathed the two daggers he had drawn the instant he heard Darkin's knives whistling through the air. Still tense and angry with himself, Aleric knelt next to the body of the demon to inspect it closer. The figure resembled the smaller demons from the forest closely, having the same black scaly skin and gnarled body. But this one was much larger than the others and was double jointed. His head was shaped much like an elongated dome with a blunt point to the back of the skull. The mouth was outsized and filled with razor sharp serrated teeth meant for tearing the throat or flesh from whatever unlucky being was its prey. The claws, fore as well as hind, were also very sharp and curved inward to complete its natural armament. One slash from those could disembowel a man easily. Kyar was lucky it was only a glancing stroke. The demon was obviously a killing machine, meant for only the one purpose. Aleric wrinkled his lip in disgust of the creature. He certainly didn't want it lying around the camp. He went to the pile of equipment and found a small spade the would service. He then turned back to the Reaper and wrapped it in its own cloak and dragged it off into the woods somewhere. Once there, he very carefully removed Darkin's knives and set them aside. Drawing Xel-ha, Aleric hacked off the Reaper's head and limbs, and split the torso in half. He wrapped the head separate from the rest of the body, careful to keep his hands out of the foul ichor that oozed from the pieces. Taking the spade, he dug a deep hole in one place and buried the head. Following the same procedure for the rest of the body, he carefully buried each piece at some distance from the others. he thought. When he had finished the gruesome task, Aleric looked at Xel-ha's blade and Darkin's knives. All three were covered with the ichor. Grimly, he picked up his beloved sword and thrust it into the earth. He followed suit with Darkin's knives. Pulling them free again, he saw that most of the ichor had been cleansed. He thrust them all into the earth a second time and wrenched them free. This time all the ichor was gone. He inspected the blades carefully for any sign of corrosion or lingering poison. As far as he could tell there was none. Still disgusted with himself for his mistake, he wandered down by the river bank and, folding his legs under himself, sat at the base of a large tree. He stared moodily into the water. This wasn't the first time his inattention had nearly cost a companion his life. His younger brother had once been on a mission with him, and the two had watched out for the other's safety. During an orc invasion he and Jaerodyn had fought together, but when Aleric pursued the orcs' leader he became separated from his brother. Jaerodyn fought valiantly but soon was surrounded and gravely injured before Aleric could return to save him. Sure, Jaerodyn was fine now, but in his own mind Aleric condemned himself for his brother's injury. And now he had once again jeopardized a valued friend's life by inattention. He vowed silently to never allow it to happen again. The night was now well advanced toward the dawn, and Aleric still sat below the great tree staring into the water. In the darkness of the hour, he saw little. But he wasn't really looking at the water. He heard a thought gently inserted into his mind, He ignored it. In his recrimination he wasn't interested responding to anything. the voice said again more stridently. he replied with a dull tone. Kyar refused to be ignored. Aleric sighed. He slowly climbed to his feet. he answered resignedly. Aleric retraced his steps to the camp where he found Kyar standing at the perimeter on guard. Kyar said nothing as Aleric passed him. He pulled a blanket out of the packs and lay down by the fire, rolled in the blanket. He didn't feel Kyar's discreet probing as he closed his eyes to sleep. In the space of a few minutes, he slept. MagicHutchHeader From: starride@champ.ksu.ksu.edu (David Chase) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [SG] Scott Gillig post are taken. Date: 3 May 1993 17:26:10 -0500 Message-ID: <1s4662INNj4q@champ.ksu.ksu.edu> A normal day for the Dragon's inn, many people coming and going. The storm had passed many days ago and the town was still cleaning up the damage. It seems that things had finally started to become normal again. Even Cliff and Norm had drifted back into Dragon's Inn taking their usual spots. After getting the usual cold silence from one of his comments Cliff went over to the bulletin board. Looking the board over Cliff noticed and made comment about Scott Gillig's note. "Now there is the work of old world craftsman. By just looking at this man's hand writing one can tell that he has done alot of scholary studing." "You mean studying, Cliff?" "That's what I said Norm. Studying. Yes indeed, why this man is even able to write in acient Dwarf. [Admin: the dwarf writing is current dwarf.]" Turning to Norm, "And of course being a man of scholary pursuit like my self I sure that he can have all the women that he wants. Why he problem became a fighter from just having to keep all the women away." "Unlike you. Woody another beer and be quick. Cliff's starting on again." "Here, I'll show you what I mean." Cliff turns back to to bulletin board and starts to take the notes that Scott Gillig had posted. But just as he reaches for them, they fade away. "Ok now who's the wiseguy. Put them back. " Cliff said to the people in the Inn. Some of the customers in the Inn who newer turned to look at Cliff while most ever one else just ignored him. "Cliff, sometimes I really wonder about you." "Oh really Norm. Well, I dont wonder about you. Because there is nothing to wonder about. So, there." "Cliffy, Cliffy, Cliffy. Just what is the color of the sky in your world?" ADIM: Well Cliff goes off on another subject seemingly forgetting about the disappearing notes. This was about the only way with out a big to do or the like of removing the notes. Like anyone was really paying attention to Scott Gillig anyway. Goodbye to all of you. Until I get access again, that is. David Chase aka Scott Gillig MagicHutchHeader From: fogelinc@pt.Cyanamid.COM (Carl Fogelin) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Observing] post storm catch-up... Date: 4 May 1993 01:46:31 GMT Message-ID: <1s4htp$5se@c3po.jvnc.net> The storm had passed a couple of days ago and Crombie was hard at work, helping his fellow fishermen to clean up the mooring areas, and repair whatever fishing vessel could be repaired. Many couldn't and the fishing fleet took on a sharing principle. Those whose vessels had been spared were going out fishing while the others cleaned up the wharf. That way, some food would come in and clean-up would be accomplished. Very few vessels had survived, and Crombie made sure that the _Lucky Grouper_ listed a bit, so that he wouldn't have to fish. Observing during post-disaster was in some ways more important that during the disaster. ----- Shortly after the storm had passed, Crombie had sent all his observations and instrument recordings back to his home plane for further analysis. In all his days on Generica, he had never seen or imagined anything like what he saw during that storm. The power used to lessen its severity was truly immense. He was sure that his superiors would be interested in the data. Of course, he left out his own involvement. That would be too hard to explain. He figured that as long as he remained objective in his reports he would be alright. Then again, he knew that he had changed. He knew he couldn't be passive any more. He had stopped by the temple of Ilmater, to find out how the elven child was doing, and had left some money to repay the temple for taking care of her. She was still "out of it", but he had been assured she was getting better. All she needed was some rest. He had even stopped by the wreck of the shop, hoping that the owner would be there, cleaning up. It was empty. He had a feeling that the child was abandoned. "Sigh", well he would deal with that when appropriate. He'd been thinking about that acolyte: Kachin, and the null-space that he was moved to. He'd decided he wanted to meet the fellow again, now that the crisis was over. Father Kraton had said that Kachin and the hermit had left after the storm was over. However, he wouldn't be surprized if the two had gone to the Dragon's Inn. They seemed the adventurous type. 'The Dragons Inn' thought Crombie. 'You've never been there, but, what the hey...' ----- "Hey Crombie" called Lugnatz, interrupting his introspection, "Mind grabbing that hawser over there?" Crombie looked up, waved _Sure_ and went over to pick up the rope. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Carl Fogelin (fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com) "All opinions are strictly mine" Up the long ladder and down the short rope, To Hell with King Billy and God bless the Pope. -- traditional MagicHutchHeader From: jmondak@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (JACK-SPRAT) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] ...Where Rangers Fear to Tread. Message-ID: <1993May3.211642.5148@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 3 May 93 21:16:42 -0400 ADMIN: Sorry that I dropped out of the picture for a while guys, life got pretty hectic there for a while and I didn't have enough gray matter left over to create a decent post.... Alarond, who had been out collect various and sundry plants, animals and whatnot for the camp, came rushing back, small elven dagger unsheathed when he heard the clamor from the camp. He had been having his weird, forboding dreams again, and , of course had been ignoring them as usual. [I'm just a harmless shapeshifter...not a clairevoyant! Why me all of a sudden!] "Quaeros, you had another run in with that force again didn't you? Don't give in to it...and next time you see it, Call someone! You can't fight It alone, though the final decision will be yours to decide. This Force is afraid of you, yet it can control you, and it will if you fall for its pretty little toys that it places before you. For the sake of this company, yourself, even the universe as we know it, please do not confront this creature alone, for that is what you are thinking of doing isn't it? It is noble that you want to keep us out of the fray, but it is the wrong way to go. You as a Cleric and a fellow Elf should realize that. Don't, as they say, march where Rangers fear to tread..." Jackie Mondak (A.K.A Alarond Cameleon of the High Elves) Muskingum College @)---,---'---,---,--- MagicHutchHeader From: rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Kyar thanks Darkin Message-ID: <1993May3.195320.7128@wkuvx1.bitnet> Date: 3 May 93 19:53:20 CDT References: <1993May3.151147.5146@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> > All at once things began to happen. The creature threw off its cloak > and leaped at Kyar. In one fluid motion Darkin reached for her daggers and sent > them flying without a second thought. One flew by Kyar's left ear and the other > his left shoulder missing him by fractions. One found its mark in the creatures > throat and the other slid neatly into its right eye with a gentle pop. Befor > the creature was dead it manage to scratch Kyar in his left thigh as he moved > to the right to avoid contact. Kyar was taken completely by surprise. Whatever the thing was, even its aura seemed to be normal. A perfect disguise, one that would have been deadly if not for the perceptiveness of Darkin. > "When the smaller demons failed to complete thier task it was his duty > to kill all those that survived. He was probably gathering all the important > information first to make sure he could finish the job. With my guard slightly > relaxed as well as Alerics he must have thought it was a prime time to strike. > Fortunatly he didn't take Darkin into consideration." Kyar concluded. > > At this time Laurenth had been examining Kyar's leg and proceeded to > announce the cut had not been deep and the claws of the demon were not laced > with poison. Taking a strip of cloth from one of her bags she dressed the > oozing wound. Kyar's leg felt numb around the ragged tear the demon's claw had made in his thigh. At least Laurenth was dressing the wound for him. That certainly didn't make him unhappy, although it did make him feel a little.. uncomfortable. He was glad of the cloak he was wearing and the darkness, that kept his flushed face hidden. When she finished with the wound and stepped away, Kyar quickly said "Thank you," then turned to the others. "I am beginning to worry about Elanon and Quaeros. Who knows what other horrors are waiting for us in these woods. Segoi too has wandered off into the forest. I hope they are all safe." he said. Kyar and Aleric dragged the body of the demon out of the campsite, leaving it secreted in the trees. Kyar then strode over to Darkin, who was engrossed in cleaning and sharpening the blades she had used to fell the demon. "It looks as if I owe you thanks yet again. I hope I get the chance to repay you sometime on our journey." he said. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: asgds@aurora.alaska.edu Subject: [ADMIN] Birthday Party/Demonic Invasion Message-ID: <1993May3.121334.1@aurora.alaska.edu> Date: Mon, 3 May 1993 20:13:34 GMT Well, I know I am still pretty new to the group and all, but I have an IDEA! I have noticed that there have been some concerns with how we are going to deal with a Birthday Party and Demonic Invasion. Why not just combine them both. Picture it Generica, Adventurer's Central is holding a party to celebrat the founding of the city, (Someone recently found some documents proving Generical was founded on such and such a date however many years agoe we want to say.) Impromptu parties start to break out all over. The parties get kind of out of control it goes from a big blow-out to a Mardi-Gras type thing and goes even more out of control from there! Then we have the emergence of Demons and such, and reality warping effects from the uncotrolled release of Magic! (Perhaps some of the partie goers don't even notice! A lot of humor could result from this!) This is just one suggestion, I am sure there will be others, But whatever happens, let's have a Disaster Moritorium or something so that for the next six months or so No Nexus shattering Disasters/Storms/Foul Gods Eruptings occur In Generica? (I would imagine that if it was such a disaster ridden place, people would choose to live elswhere!) Just my two shekels worth! GEOFF MagicHutchHeader From: albert@chain.ssctr.bcm.tmc.edu (Rick Jones) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [GATM/STORM] Krupp [Low City]Talking Heads_and_Burning Down the House Date: 4 May 1993 16:50:44 GMT Message-ID: <1s66t4$9dl@gazette.bcm.tmc.edu> [ADMIN: For Krupp, the STORM is just making landfall.] What Has Gone Before: Krupp Faraway, Halfling PI was murdered. In Generica, however, that's not always a problem. Krupp's a ghost now, searching for his murderer. The murder weapon, an arrow, led him to the underworld accountant, Numbers, on the night of the worst Storm to hit Generica. He was about to find out the name he's been looking for, when Numbers is suddenly assassinated in front of him by one of his "loyal" guards. > "It was-" Numbers stopped, and looked down at his chest, which > had just grown a crossbow bolt. I whirled to see Mick, holding a two > shot crossbow and smiling a grin of pure malice. > He looked at me in shock. "Krupp?" he muttered. "But that's > impossible." He pointed the crossbow at me, and fired. I reflexively dove out of the way, even though a bolt isn't doing to do diddly to a ghost. I landed silently on the floor and rolled behind the desk. Mentally, kicking myself, I bounced back to my feet, to see Mick's retreating form. I shouted, "Stop, dammit," and ran after him. I caught up to him in the hallway. Glancing over his shoulder, he drew a dagger from his belt and threw it at me with deadly accuracy. Except, I was already dead, so it passed through me. Mick, still looking over his shoulder, raised an eyebrow, and bolted through an open doorway at the other end of the hall. I sped up, and zipped through after him. It was dark, my "eyes" instantly adjusted. It was a huge natural cave. Everywhere there were chests, and crates, and piles of all kinds of loot. There was more stuff here than all of Merchant's Hill. Heck, a dragon might look at this place and decide to move in. I cursed, knowing Mick could hide in a zillion places. "Mick," I shouted. "There's no use hiding." I breathed in deeply, trying to smell whatever emotions I could pick up. Nothing. Guy must have been a real iceman. "That so, Mister Faraway?" Mick's voice echoed strangely in cavern. "You think you can find me? You're wrong, shorty. Dead," he stopped and giggled in a high pitched voice, "dead wrong." I slowly walked forward, listening intently. I could see in the dark, but how could he, I wondered. "You think you're so hot. Mister Bigshot Flatfoot." The giggle again. It sounded familiar. I wracked my brain, but I knew I had never seen Mick before in my life. "Well, let me tell you a story about Creft. You're looking at his main hideyhole. His best loot is hid here." I looked around. Nothing. The voice was slowly changing, becoming higher, and a hysteric edge laced his words. I made a wild guess, "Shapechanger, show yourself." The voice giggled, becoming more manic. "Shows what you know." He paused for a moment. He sounded tired when he continued. "Did you know that Creft booby trapped this place. In case the Guilds ever raided the place. Fire charms all over the place. Not that it should bother you, _shorty_." What the heck was this guy, I wondered. I turned a corner, and found Mick slumped over on the ground. I rolled him over, and found he had cut his own throat. "Oops, left a clue for you, flatfoot. Oh well, better figure it out quick," I spun around, trying to find the source of the voice when my eyes were momentarily dazzled by a sudden brightness. When they cleared, I was standing in the middle of an inferno. The fire didn't burn me, which was good. On the other hand, due to the flames and smoke, I couldn't see, which was bad. So, I looked around, trying to see some landmark I could use to get out. Nothing. So, I picked an arbitrary direction and started walking. My life had gotten really surreal since I died, I thought. Shapechanging catman wizards. Sorceresses with twenty different bodies. Friendly vampires. And now, I was walking through a fire without getting burned. Nuts. I had made little progress through the fire, when I heard a creaking sound. I looked up to see the ceiling coming down, along with a zillion gallons of water. Great. Just great. It took a while for all the debris to settle, and then I started climbing up from the bottom of the pile. Eventually, I got to the top. The storm had gotten worse. Much worse. In fact, in sixty years, I had never seen a storm so awful. The rain was coming down like a waterfall. Of course, thanks to the winds, the waterfall was almost hitting you straight on. Even better, if the fire didn't destroy all the evidence, the water would. Actually, most of the fire had gone out by then, thanks to the deluge. I slumped down on a smoldering timber, and thought about what to do next. The deluge passed through me, as did the wind. I looked down at the sinkhole that used to be the Twinfish Warehouse, and wondered what the heck I was dealing with here. This was not normal. Betrayal, intrigue and murder were normal. Heck, a magically assisted hit was normal. But live talking body, that becomes a dead body, with someone talking; that's not normal. My reverie was disturbed by a gout of water spurting up from the sewer grate. Then another down the street became a fountain. I sat up, and started heading inland. I didn't want to watch a flood. I got up and started to walk away when I heard a familiar, high pitched voice. "Hey, mac. Wait up." On the ground, stuck in the grate was the bottle with the imp from Numbers' office. I walked through the water to it, and squatted down on to take a look at it. "Hey buddy, give a guy a break." "What do you want?" I asked. This could be helpful, I thought. "Let me out, pal. Next surge and my bottle gets washed out, and probably will end up at the bottom of the sea." It was getting anxious and was looking down into the sewer nervously. "So what do I do?" "Pull the cork, and let me out." I was torn, I didn't want to just let it go. It had information about Numbers that I could use. Then I thought of those hazy months of being bound to the alleyway. "Tell you what, answer me some questions and I'll pop the cork." "Sure, sure, anything." I reached for the cork, when I had a thought. "Swear by something important that you won't bail on me." "Okay. I swear on the Eternal Compact. Section 6, paragraph 32-Zed." I knew zip about imps, but I figured that even if it bailed, I was no worse off than I was before. I concentrated, and pulled on the cork. It wiggled free, and shouted "FREE." It hopped onto my hand. "You can touch me," I said, shocked. "Hey, you're a spook. I'm a daemon. Let's blow this pop stand, I hate water." I stood up and started walking back towards the Inn. "What was your name again?" "Lotus." "Krupp Faraway. Lotus, my friend, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship." -- Rick Jones "Irving? You can't name a magic sword IRVING!" albert@bcm.tmc.edu "But I LIKE the name Irving." Systems Support Center -Joe the Barbarian, to Marge the Sorceress Voice: 713-798-7352 (River of the Dancing Gods, by Jack Chalker) MagicHutchHeader From: bshsiung@quip.eecs.umich.edu (Bernard Hsiung) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] the long-awaited, long-winded meeting of the Archmagi Date: 4 May 1993 20:13:03 GMT Message-ID: <1s6iof$cmf@zip.eecs.umich.edu> ADMIN: Here we are! The talking heads posting of the millenia. Sorry for taking such an insanely long time to write this (two months?!); I was alternately busy and uninspired. Thanks to Hutch (hutch@ibeam.intel.com) for writing a big chunk of it, looking it over, and allowing me to borrow 'Raelf. And, oh yeah, thanks to Pete Calvert (pcalvert@economics. adelaide.edu.au) for ...sage's guest appearance. After this, I think I have to disappear again and cram my nose back into a monstrous pile of books for the next week or so. (Studying for qualifying exams, doncha know?) Unless someone gives me a really good image to play with... ---- Nescie sat in his chair in the Council Chamber, waiting patiently for the start of the first authentic meeting of the Archmage Council since Delalle's seclusion. Things had changed a lot in the last twenty years, he reflected. Half of the seats were be held by new Archmagi, the almost unprecedented turnover resulting from the reawakening of the Archliche a decade ago and the deaths of four Archmagi and much of the Guild afterwards. That would undoubtedly be one of the incidents they would discuss. Nescie looked around the room. Leonaco had arrived already, sitting across from him. He was looking bored, idly sketching runes of power in the thick dust on the circular marble table with his finger. Rivy was there also, sitting to Nescie's immediate left, buffing her nails while reading a thick sheaf of forms. She threw him a quick smile and a "hi" when she noticed him watching her, then returned her attention to the papers. Fauteuil appeared from a glowing doorway, did a double take at Nescie, shrugged, and sat down, leaning over to talk to Leonaco. Thorn materialized then, in his chair to Nescie's right. He surveyed the room with an air of satisfaction, raising his eyebrows in surprise when he saw Nescie. "You're looking very well today, Nescie," he said pleasantly. "Why, thank you, Thorn," Nescie replied. "How are things for you?" Thorn pursed his lips. "Well, they could be better, could be better. But, tell me, I understand that we have nearly enough faculty to return to the classroom style of education?" "Why yes..." Nescie was excited that Thorn was interested. He was still talking to him a few minutes later when Dasham arrived. She regarded Nescie from directly across the table. Her eyes widened, then narrowed, and her mouth made a tight line, but she took her seat without saying a word to him. Instead, she complained to Rivy about the sudden increase in the amount of paperwork circulating in the Research Department and the ridiculously poor scheduling and shoddy workmanship of her apartment renovations. Rivy made her papers disappear, tossed her hair out of her eyes, and said, "Gee, Dasham, Research is, like, such an experimenting-type department that I kind of hoped you'd want to try out the new and improved stuff that some of my boys thought up." She shrugged innocently. "And I don't know what the hold-up could be on your apartment. I mean, I'm having mine done at the same time, so it's not like I don't know what it's like, but my service is pretty good. I'll take a look into it, okay?" Dasham crossed her arms and growled her acceptance. Leonaco muttered something to Fauteuil that Nescie didn't catch, then blew sharply on the table; all of the dust and grime disappeared magically from the room, leaving it shiny and clean. Urcohea showed up, sitting on the other side of Rivy from Nescie. He smiled widely at her, looked over the rest of the Archmagi, and said "It's good to see that everyone's here. Delalle will be a few minutes late." "I don't believe this," Thorn said in an exasperated tone of voice. "He warns us all to be here on time, then he's late for his own meeting. Who does he think he is?" "He's in consultation with somebody called Dariel," Urcohea said. Nescie felt a bout of dizziness at the mention of the name, but it subsided rapidly. Urcohea was still talking. "It seems that this Dariel is deeply tied into what Delalle has been doing. Delalle said that he would be present at the meeting and be available to answer questions." Nescie felt as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders, and his head felt clearer. He didn't know why. "What Delalle has been doing?" Thorn asked with apparent disbelief. "As far as I can tell, Urcohea, Delalle's been doing absolutely nothing for the past twenty years." Before Urcohea could answer, Leonaco raised his head and said, "I concur. Prior to his withdrawal from our affairs, Delalle had shown himself to favor a very laissez-faire, 'hands-off' style of management. However, I find this excessive, bordering on negligence. He wouldn't leave his shell to assist us against the Archliche. _He_ might have been safe, but I am sure that his knowledge and skill would have been invaluable. At the least, they would have saved many lives." "That troubles me also," Urcohea admitted. "Still, I expect that he will explain his reasons soon enough." "You remember Sargoth, don't you?" Dasham said. "Yes, but Delalle isn't--" Urcohea began. "Who was Sargoth?" Fauteuil interrupted. Urcohea looked at Dasham and Leonaco, then answered "Supreme Archmage before Delalle." "A much more active and influential leader," Leonaco supplied. "If I remember correctly, Leonaco," Urcohea said. "You used to complain about the amount of control he exerted over your department." "All of this ancient history is fascinating," Thorn said drily, "but doesn't do anything to solve our problem. The point is that the Guild has been, in effect, without a Supreme Archmage for the last two decades. We've had no sense of focus or direction. Delalle may have left you in charge, Urcohea, but you don't actually have the authority to implement policy. I think we need a new Supreme Archmage. Delalle can follow his own pursuits on his own time." The room exploded with voices as everyone started talking at the same time. "I think that Delalle--" "--doesn't excuse him from--" "Sargoth never would have--" "I'm the newest here, but--" "Urcohea hasn't been such--" "Thorn makes a good point--" There was a bright flash as Delalle appeared, his long white hair blowing in an unseen tempest. He looked like the grim prophet of a vengeful god, and his voice was thunder. "ENOUGH! Enough of this bickering! I am here!" His words echoed around the suddenly silent room. But as Delalle took his chair, he seemed to change somehow into a tired-looking old man. "This is Dariel," he said more softly, indicating the clear-eyed young man who stood behind him, slightly to one side. "He is here to observe. Later, he will answer any questions you might have about him. In its proper time." Dariel bowed. "I am honored to appear before the Council of Archmagi of the Generican Mage Guild." His voice was gentle, but pleasant and respectful. "This entity is not human," Dasham protested. "And it doesn't scan to me. How do we know its intentions are compatible with ours?" "Indeed, Archmage Dasham, you are most perceptive," Dariel said good-naturely. "However, I assure you that I mean you no harm." "In all my years in Extraplanar Contacts, I don't think I've seen anything quite like this," Fauteuil said, a puzzled frown creeping across his face. "Will you submit to a binding?" he asked Dariel. Delalle harrumphed before Dariel could answer. "That will be unnecessary. I invoke Archmage's privilege to include him in the meeting as a witness, and as a concerned party. I take full responsibility for his actions during the meeting. Are there any objections?" He looked around the table. There was a general murmur of assent. Nescie noticed that Thorn was studying Dariel intently through multiple scan filters. Dasham seemed about to say something, but she wilted uncharacteristically under Dariel's watchful yet somehow reassuring gaze. "Uh, would you like a chair?" she asked instead. Dariel smiled. "Thank you, but one will not be necessary. As you have already observed, I am not human." He shifted until he was about the same level as the Archmagi, taking something like a seated position, but with no visible support. "All right," Delalle said. "We had best get started. We have a lot of ground to cover today." He addressed Urcohea, seated at his right hand. "Is the Chamber secure?" Urcohea created a magical representation of the room's wards for all to see. As they watched, he activated and tested each of them. "The Chamber is sealed and secure, Supreme Archmage." "Good," Delalle said. "Recording begins now. On this day, by the power vested in me as Supreme Archmage, I call the Council of Archmagi of the Generican Guild of Mages to order. The first item on the agenda, as always, is roll-call and verification of identity. I see that all Department Heads are present. Verification is in reverse order of seniority. For those of you who haven't done this before, please remember to relax your personal wards so that the verifier can take a blood sample and an influence reading." The verifier, a wide cylinder with a single slot carved on its side, rose out of the center of the table. It spun on its axis, then slid before Nescie, turning its slot to point at exactly the angle comfortable for Nescie's right hand. Nescie put it into the slot, a little nervously. It went in up to his wrist and the stone flowed around it so as to lock it into a solid block. Nescie built his sigil-spell, covered it with his private encoding, wrapped it in the layers of encryption required by the Mage's Guild, cross-indexed it through his Truename, and crystallized it into his free hand. He fitted the spell-disk into the recess on the top of the verifier. There was a muted click, then a mild tingling feeling as the verifier took a biopsych imprint, checking his whole physical, genetic, mental and spiritual makeup while simultaneously looking for coercive magic or general impairment, and comparing his spell package with the one he had on record. The process took a little less than fifteen seconds, then the verifier released his hand and shifted in front of Rivy. It cleared her, Fauteuil, Thorn, and Urcohea. Then it failed to authenticate Leonaco. Not just one, but twice, then three times. Urcohea examined the readings and made the accusation. "You're not Leonaco. Your pass-spell is correct and your genetic and mental pattern fall within acceptable deviations, but your soul-scan is off and you have inserted structures which are not standard. Explain." The Leonaco-imitator smiled and said, "Too bad. He was hoping so much that it would have worked. You had better unseal the Chamber. He's in his lab." Dasham rolled her eyes. "It didn't work the last time he tried this, either. Although I suppose he has had some time to improve." "Open a line to Leonaco's lab, Urcohea," Delalle said. Leonaco answered right away with a mild expletive. "I'll be right over," he said. The copy of Leonaco got out of the chair, its hand still caught in the verifier, and moved out of the way. What looked like an exact duplicate materialized where it had been sitting. The newly-arrived Leonaco put his hand on the other one's shoulder and it collapsed into motes of light that swirled around and into him. Leonaco blinked and said, "Well, maybe I'll have the golem working right by next meeting." He put his hand in the verifier and started to cast his pass-spell. "Don't count on it," Urcohea told him. "The Chamber is sealed again, Supreme Archmage." "Thank you, Urcohea," Delalle said. "Now, if there are no other surprises, perhaps we can get on with things?" This time, Leonaco was confirmed, then Delalle and Dasham were cleared. The verifier let go of Dasham's hand, moved back to the center of the table and sank into it, disappearing without a trace. The next order of business was the review of the records from the last meeting. The lights dimmed and an image of the Council Chamber in discussion began to form over the table. Nescie paid little attention to the issues of twenty years ago until the very end, where Delalle announced that he was planning to take some time off to meditate in seclusion. He said that Urcohea would be in charge until he returned, brushed off questions about how long he would be gone, and closed the meeting. The lights came back up and Delalle asked, "Are there any comments or complaints regarding the minutes?" Fauteuil asked, "Why didn't you say how long you would be gone?" "I'll explain that later," Delalle answered. "The short answer is that I didn't know. The long answer will have to wait. Does anybody have anything to say about the minutes themselves?" Dasham asked, "Exactly what power did you give to Urcohea? There wasn't a transfer as far as I know, and the records don't show anything but an informal statement of intent." "I meant for Urcohea to act to maintain the Guild according to his best judgement, but we're getting off subject again." Dasham nodded. "I have no objections to the record." "Nor I," Leonaco said. "I am satisfied," Urcohea said. "And I accept them also. The rest of you were not present. Very well. The records pass. The next items on the agenda are departmental reports. I'd like to depart from the agenda for a moment, though. I've been given a thorough historical recap by Urcohea and Thorn, and we'll enter it into the records later, so please don't feel obliged to give full details on all the various crises and disasters - just go over your current status and ongoing projects, leaving out _all_ interdepartmental issues for later, and we'll deal with open issues at the end." Delalle sat back in his chair, with a slight wince as his bones creaked against the hard chair back. "You, Bureaucracy, please begin, then we'll rotate clockwise. I believe you are Rivy, you were Xandre's just-appointed Guildmaster, correct?" Rivy smiled her beauty-queen smile, breaking out in dimples, and nodded. "I took over when Xandre was killed in the struggle with the ArchLiche. At that time, we had four full Mages and myself, the treasury was in ruins, and half the building had been leveled. At current staffing, we have eight full mages, sixteen journeymen, myself, and Guildmaster Gwaliostrok, and we expect to be able to raise two of the mages, including Gwaliostrok, to archmage rank within five years time. Treasury has been restored to the required 100 years of estimated operating funds, and the building emergency fund has been half-replenished, with Archmage Thorn in charge of generating sufficient additional funds to restore it to full-replacement levels. "Bureaucracy department now handles all records searches, in-world registry, records maintenance and entry for all departments, and we expect to be adding off-world registry and records searches with appropriate routing through Extraplanar Affairs and Internal Security within the year. We also provide mundane staff for all purposes, and of course we're understaffed there." "Thank you. Urcohea, please report on Internal Security." "Well, after the ArchLiche incident, ISD assumed broad powers for oversight, and as a result the fledgling department of Necromantics was dismantled and folded into Research and Production, with some continuing oversight by ISD. This was approved in a general consensus meeting between the surviving members of the Council and was largely due to the death of all members of Necromantics in the combat. We have held off re-establishing that department until the Supreme Archmage should choose to convene a general assembly. "ISD established a secure access for the building five years ago, and has now taken charge of maintaining building power systems, with the recent stability problems. We have isolated the cause of those stability problems, and they have been locked down. Supreme Archmage Delalle and I both know the method used, and are satisfied that it is secure against further tampering, accidental or intentional; information on what was done can be gotten on a need-to-know basis from either me or the Supreme Archmage. "At present, my department has ten fully trained mages, seven journeymen, and one mage-applicant examining for archmage. We intend to establish, with the unanimous agreement of this Council and the majority agreement of all Mages currently active and paid, a general system of wards and accesses, and an upgraded aura-identity examination department. "Incidentally, after the ArchLiche incident, ISD took over the management of the Medical department also. We would like to have Medical reinstated as its own department, so we can free up our funds for more critical purposes." "So noted. Added to the agenda." Delalle sighed. This was still painful and long. He nodded to Urcohea. "Anything else?" "Not at this time. I do have an open-issue for later." "Very well. Dasham, please update us on Research." "I'm afraid Research has been a denigrated operation since the disaster with the ArchLiche. While nobody seems to want to admit to it, my department has been slighted at every turn, in some sort of accidental or deliberate attempt to punish me personally for my shortsightedness in releasing the entity. However, this is a rat-hole." She sighed, releasing stress. "For whatever reasons, I have been seriously understaffed. I have exactly one mage in my department, and three contract-mages. I have no candidates for archmage, frankly, and over the last four years Research has had three competent candidates for apprentice. All chose to go into Security. Rivy has been kind enough to take over the library research portion of my group's work while Leonaco has been steadily absorbing my laboratory capacity. "As a result, our Research department has had only four breakthroughs on any front in the last ten years, down 80% from the previous ten years. This has resulted in our Guild being ranked down four points in our most recent Audit by MetaPlanar; I'm surprised Fauteuil did not bother to mention that fact; and our overall attractiveness to students has only been due to Nescie's very good reputation as a theoretician and teacher." Nescie blushed self-consciously at the unexpected praise, but Delalle was speaking already. "Thank you, Dasham. We'll look into your staffing situation later. Now, Leonaco, since you've bothered to join us in person, perhaps you can give your report?" "Delalle, you old coot, you did the same thing yourself when you were in charge of my department." Leonaco folded his arms, unrepentant. "Regardless." "All right. The five additional foundries I added in the discarded and empty laboratory suite abandoned by Research each came online as expected. In the department, there are now fourteen journeymen and six mages, one of which I expect to be ready for archmage-candidacy within three years. We now produce the standard potions, amulets, wards, keys, and weaponry almost as fast as demand comes in for them. There is a one week turnaround for standard items, and our custom service can generally carry up to five requests at one time with average turnaround for weapons, which are our longest- turnaround item, at no more than three months." "Impressive." "Thank you. We've added a small special-interest research group since Dasham has been so severely swamped, which specializes in enchantment and in automation of procedures. We HAVE been registering our results with her department on a regular basis." "Right, once every three years or so," Dasham said under her breath. Leonaco ignored the comment and continued. "Current plans, well, we need that sixth foundry. Oh, and we had several strings of failures, the latest earlier this week - mostly high-grade enchantments have gone bad, and we've had to scrap the materials and start over. It hasn't happened since then. Our best dwerrow is on it, though, she'll find the cause." "Good. Fauteuil? You are now in charge of Extraplanar Contacts? Please give your report." The sour-faced man gestured, and a pattern, a gridwork of lines, appeared in the air above the table. "This is the current connectivity map for the Guild network. The blue at the center represents our connectivity as of the last meeting, under my predecessor. After she absconded with the Extraplanar budget eight years ago, we determined that our failure to locate her before extradition was impolitic was due to the narrowness of our contacts. Therefore, I made a number of expansions; these are the additional connections shown in green. The yellow lines indicate connections to guilds who are not registered with the MetaPlanar Mages Guild and Registry to which we subscribe, and incidentally, who have raised our fees again this year. Red lines indicate those guilds which we have contacts in but who have allied with one of the four competing organizations. After discussion with Archmage Thorn, I have also located a network of contact groups operating along the WorldGate channels, and we have been accepted as a member in periphery of that organization as well; I wish to raise the issue of our joining as a full member later in the meeting." "So noted, added to the agenda." "Thank you. Our extraplanar traffic has been growing linearly for the past ten years following the unfortunate cessation of all contact work after the ArchLiche incident. When I took over, I began increasing that traffic for training and for cross-fertilization of membership, resulting in our acquisition of both Nescie and Gwaliostrok, as well as a number of other very good recruits. We were also able to send fourteen candidates to other worlds more fitted to their magical talents. However, to handle future operations, I require the establishment of a class five Worldgate within the next ten years. The bulk of our export traffic is currently going via WorldGate on a per-use fee basis, and while our full membership in their organization will reduce that fee, we would end up paying more than a third of the profits from our shipments in transit fees." Fauteuil gestured, and the glowing-line pattern vanished. "At the moment, my department has four mages and four journeymen, which appears adequate. None of these have shown any signs of progressing to archmage within the decade." "Thank you for your report. Thorn?" "Well, the Politics department really doesn't do a whole lot, but we HAVE had a few successes lately. With the fortuitous rise to power of the current Shaheran of Rameshan, we now have a friend in that court, and we have been making arrangements via trade, and via influence on the Merchants, to keep that friend. We sent advisors to assist in the recent Lizard Wars, gaining the Guild considerable authority and autonomy in the sight of the Mercantile and the Principate. As you know, we sent an advisor to Magira to mediate in the ongoing power struggles there; while he wasn't my personal best choice, he certainly has the skill to carry it off. Finally, I've been working closely with Fauteuil to build our interfaces with the other Guilds in neighboring dimensions. "Currently, my department has ten full mages, none of which have shown signs of the talent required to rise to archmage, but still very competent. I personally have no staffing problems." "Glad to hear it." Delalle cut him off as he was beginning to inhale for what the omens indicated would be a LONG boring speech. "You, Nescie, is it?" "Yes, sir." "I seem to recall you were an older man. Well, tell us about all you've done for Education." "Certainly. With the death of my predecessor, I was forced to return to administration from teaching. Since at that time, we had only two other teaching-qualified mages, and the students, while reduced in number, still constituted the bulk of the Guild, I chose to implement a programmed independent studies course with study and peer review groups, strictly overseen by the full Mages and with random testing, calibrated examination. Only then was apprenticeship to the full mages and archmages in each department approved. Each student was required to rotate between all the departments. I regret to say that the reason they kept cycling out of Research had more to do with the equipment available there; since Leonaco had a better budget, they tended to go to his group at their first opportunity. At any rate, just this last month I have managed to increase the number of faculty to six mages and twelve journeymen. We're now at the point that the journeymen can begin teaching basic theory to the applicants again, and I can possibly revive the colloquium series. At present, about two-thirds of the mages in the Guild have been assigned apprentices. There are currently thirty-five apprentices and one hundred and six registered students." "Thank you, Nescie. Now, I expect the Interdepartmental portion of this meeting will be nothing but squabbling and infighting, given what I have seen so far. Therefore, I request that you each submit to me a written description of all problems you have with any other department, and in addition, a description of which departments have been most helpful to you, and how. Have them to me by the end of the day tomorrow, and we will meet in smaller groups to solve any problems you might have, by the end of the week. No further discussion on that topic will be accepted at this meeting. Now then, are there any open issues before I start my presentation? Ah, yes, Fauteuil. Please give us your analysis and recommendation concerning the WorldGate network." Fauteuil's talk was brief and to the point, much to Nescie's relief. His chair was starting to feel rather very hard. The benefits and responsibilities of joining the network were swiftly laid out, and the voting was just as quick: unanimously in favor. Dasham brought up her staffing problems a second time. There was slightly more resistance on this topic, but with Delalle's firm support, the motion to allocate more funding, resources, and mages to her department passed with all votes in favor and only Urcohea abstaining. Urcohea spoke next. "I actually have two separate issues," he said. "The first is the separation of the Necromantics and Medical departments from the ISD..." The discussion went on for another half hour, the general consensus being that the re-establishments of the old departments would require archmages to head them. Since neither the Necromantics nor Medical departments were critical areas, they could wait until more archmages were certified. However, in what looked to Nescie like a concession to Dasham and an effort to apologize for her previous treatment, Delalle pushed for the shifting of the remnants of the Necromantics department entirely under the wing of Research until such time that a new archmage was interested in taking it over. Dasham seemed genuinely pleased; although Leonaco and Urcohea both voted against it, and Fauteuil and Rivy abstained, this change in policy passed also. Before Urcohea could bring up his second issue, Nescie cleared his throat, feeling nervous as eight pairs of eyes turned to watch him. "Um. I'm sorry to interrupt, but since we've been talking about personnel, I think this may be the best time to mention it. As you all know, of the twenty years I've spent in the Guild, I spent ten of them teaching, then was boosted to Archmage a little sooner than I expected after Linonius fell against the ArchLiche. As I said earlier in my summary, it has taken us ten more years to lift the Education Department back to its previous status, but now it looks like we will be able to hold regular classes for the first time in a decade. "So, I've been thinking about taking a leave of absence. Charblon can handle my position while I'm gone. I still have some matters to tie up, so I'll submit my specific request at a later time, but I though it would be best to let everybody know early." "All right, Nescie," Delalle said. "When you have finalized your arrangements, bring it up at the next meeting, and we'll see what we can do. Urcohea?" "Recently, some of you may have noticed anomalous readings and results in the mystical processes and rituals we all use. If you checked our firmament representations for the next month and compared them to what is actually happening, you would have found that they are slightly mistaken; the heavenly influences are in imbalance. It is quite small at the moment, but I ran some projections. It does not appear to be stabilizing. It might only be a minor burble -- or we might have to prepare for the sky falling on our heads. Literally. Unfortunately, some information that I have received recently is leading me to suspect the latter. "Of course, you have also noticed the devastating and unnatural storm that stuck Generica. I strongly believe that this is also tied somehow into what is happening. "It would appear that there is a force which is actively creating new gods, of natures that are inimical to life and happiness. I see that many of you are looking at me with expressions of disbelief. I'm afraid to say that it certainly appears to be true. Delalle, I would like to present the evidence of one journeyman master 'Raelf. The journeyman has been a contract mage working for Archmage Dasham, and has completed some confidential consulting work for ISD; I can vouch for the accuracy of his information, and Dasham can give her assessment also." Dasham looked a little irate, but nodded. "Yes, he's competent. He has some unusual methods." "Very good. Supreme Archmage, I'd like permission to open the security wards to admit the journeyman and I think we should change the room configuration to presentation mode." "Granted." The table disappeared and reappeared in a different format as the Archmagi and their chairs blinked into new positions. They were now seated in a shallow arc, facing an empty half-room. Urcohea performed the disassembly gestures and opened a small portal. "Please send in my guest." A gust of wind blew through the portal, and solidified into a solidly built blond man in his early twenties, wearing an clothing from an odd mix of cultures. "Uhm. Archmage Urcohea probably told you who I am and why I'm here. I carry a personal recording device. This is a translation into standard threespace annotation of an encounter I had in Low Town." He placed a box on the table, a cube about three inches on a side, with a smooth-polished blue-green gemstone set in the center top. The gem began glowing faintly, and projected in the air above it a sphere about three feet on a side, showing an image of a section of Low Town. Leonaco sat up, paying more attention to the playback device than to the image it was showing. The image changed. A group of four people walked into view, their auras a crackling ripple around them. They froze in place. "I'm displaying the emotive segment, as you can see. The color keys are the usual ones: green for desires rising from hungers, red for aggressive, blue for mystic, yellow for physical lusts and hungers, various shadings in between. Notice the change in tenor ..." The image unfroze. A wash of something pale green and red, like squid ink, washed across. Where it touched the four people, their auras were slowly changed, the colors becoming more brittle, the subtle interplay of emotions coarser, going deeper into each, then washing out leaving hollow shells of color behind. The image changed, sounds of shouting were heard. The focus point for the picture moved, rapidly, down the Plaza of Unforgotten Heroes towards a crowd, thirty or more people, all with the same hollow emotion-auras. The inky wash was more intense. The crowd parted, showing a young child whose aura was not hollowed, but which was bleeding together in the way that dying people's did. He had several livid bruises, broken bones, contusions. The image changed, and the child was gone, the crowd moving away with a tinge of fear. The murk solidified, assuming a humanlike body - a mime with a mask, a design of rage and decadent apathy. The image froze. "This is the thing itself. The display changes between physical and primarily conceptual imaging from time to time." The image unfroze. The mime was moving, obscenely, depicting a man in a box being slowly crushed between invisible walls, blood spurting and bones snapping. The point of view moved behind the mime and showed it from reverse. It was hollow in back, clockwork and thin delicate metal parts like an umbrella. It moved, and the people all moved with it, color leaching from them and into IT. It pushed them and pulled them, making them do things which should have raised horror and rebellion in them, things that even made Thorn blanch, then it fed on the emotions, leaving husks behind. A shower of glowing sparks sprayed out towards it, and collected into it with the colors. They lodged in the mechanism, landed burning in the cloth and mask. There were thin fine hooks attached to them, and the mime was forced to perform a small dance, disembowelling itself and reading entrails. At the end, it was yanked, like a puppet, off the "stage" and up into the wings. "That's it." 'Raelf picked up the box and pocketed it. "The thing was sent off to Pantheon, which at least keeps it from directly feeding on its victims. Since I reported this to Urcohea, my mate has encountered another of the things, twisting two residents of the waterfront into monstrosities - it had eaten most of their souls. Since my mate doesn't carry a recorder around, I don't have any kind of analysis of the kind of god it is." "I do," a voice said softly from behind Delalle. "This is the time to say why I am here, here and now," Dariel continued as he rose and walked before the Archmagi. "Feel free to ask questions." "I come from a Place very distant from here, yet its influence is always very near. The struggle in which my siblings and I are involved is vast and every self-aware creature plays a role, yet it is as much locked within each one as without. Now will I stop speaking in riddles. "All of you here are skilled mages. You deal with magic. There are many, many forms of magic, but at its heart, magic is the force that causes the universe to follow your will. And what are the forces that drive your will? Hopes, fears, dreams, desires, and needs. "I am a Seeker, a Servant of the Keeper of the Beacon of Hope. I see that my words strike resonances within you, although you might not be familiar with their meaning. You are all greatly knowledgeable about structures, magical and mundane, real and unreal. In a very strong sense, my Master is the embodiment of Hope, one of the bridges between the body and the soul. "It would not be necessary to bring this to your attention, except that there is one who is set against us. He is the Reaver, and He desires the ending of all things. Where my Master sees possibility and potential, He sees only failure and ending, and works to hasten the day when all creation is unmade. "However, unmaking or not, He is currently in ascension. I was sent to this Place to recover some of my siblings who had been corrupted by His influence. I stay because none can be spared to recover one such as I; I am not all that important overall, and I am the last devoted Seeker. "Most recently, it has become ever more obvious to me that one of the Reaver's Servants, a Reaverschild, walks in this Place and puts his will upon it. The malevolent new gods are of his creation. The imbalance of natural forces is his doing. At this time, I am seeking for him hither and yonder, but have not found him. It is because our essence is tied so deeply into what is and what is not that no scrying or augury reveals us; only the effects of our actions appear. "One way to look at it is as if I were a light, and he a light of a different color, and we were to be projected upon a screen that is this Place. What results depends on my actions, on his actions, and on the texture of the Place itself. With help from a native, I can read a future of mine, and he can read a future of his, but I am certain that they would not be the same, nor the same as that read by any native alone: our views are biased by what we are. In summary, you are not likely to find him except by direct contact or by tracing his actions. "This brings us back to the subject of the gods. The Reaverschild is fabricating and scattering god cores. Fortunately and unfortunately he has left them to develop on their own; he is not empowering them himself. Fortunate, because this means that the gods, though troublesome, are newborn and unaware of their potentials and limits. Unfortunate, because I am not able to use them to find where he is hiding. "The god that 'Raelf ae het 25 spoke of is a god of murder, but has fallen to my hand; it is dust and nothing more. The marid within the storm was a major projection of another god, of disasters. It also has since been destroyed, picked apart by its brethren after it overextended itself supporting the storm. There are still others who are awakening even as we speak, and he is continuing to create more." Leonaco indicated he had a question. "Where is the energy to build these gods coming from?" "He is murdering old gods and taking their power. I have verified the disappearance of several pantheons of ancient deities, and if my observations are correct, he has the ability to construct perhaps a dozen more gods. Assuming that, as before, he does not back them himself and that he continues to reserve a portion of the strength for his own use." "How can he hide power manipulations of this magnitude?" Dasham asked. "First, recall that we are hidden. Even gods can die natural deaths. It is only extremely unusual that several score unrelated powers should all choose to do so within such a short time frame. Secondly, it is not as difficult as you might imagine to create a god. If conditions are appropriate, gods can be generated spontaneously. The problem is to induce the appropriate conditions. This does not have to require a large flux of energy, only -- how would you put it? -- a shifting that results in a deific conception. Also, he has been crafting cores, rather than full divinities. These act as seeds, if you would, slowly gathering to themselves the power they need to become fully active, at which point they can influence sentients to worship and sacrifice. Finally, it is probable that he is working at a location strongly charged with Power that would mask the few energy expenditures that would occur. Any temple or your World Gate would suffice. This Guild would be ideal." "What does the Reaverschild gain by creating gods?" inquired Urcohea. "There are several advantages. By drawing new gods, he can contest the older ones without needing to confront each and every one himself: something that would definitely lead to my knowing and finding him. If he makes enough influential gods, there will be strife in the heavens. Chaos there will be reflected by chaos here, a state that he can use to further his goals. Further, the new gods we have seen are harmful to life. If any of them should gain a substantial following, it inclines the basic nature of this Place to support him. Finally, his creation of these gods is proving an effective distraction. I am dividing my time between seeking him out and stopping the predations of his gods." Urcohea absorbed this, then asked "What are his motives?" "Ah. A good question. This Reaverschild must be a lowly Servant indeed if he needs to hide from me. If a full Servant had invaded this Place, our positions would have been reversed. But he hides, so I know that he knows I am here. He very likely knows who I am, but I do not know who he is. It is certain that he fears to move against me directly, or he would have done so already. All of these say to me that we are dealing with a minor Servant, probably one who is not in contact with the Reaver; perhaps it entered this Place by accident rather than design. "As to his ultimate goals, there are only two such for Reaver's Servants. The first type are the purer kind, closer to the will of their Master; these exist only for destruction. The second kind are the ones who have been corrupted by their own abilities and seek to rule rather than destroy. These are tolerated by the Reaver because they serve his purposes well enough for a time. It is too early to say for certain what this particular Reaverschild wishes, but neither goal is desirable for the inhabitants of a Place. A choice between complete destruction and absolute slavery is not much of a choice at all." "You are called Dariel--" Fauteuil said. "No," he interrupted. "I _am_ Dariel. There is a difference. For example, you are only called Fauteuil, but who you are is half again something different. I see there is a name that you have given yourself for power -- do not worry, I will not say it. Please continue." "What is this Reaver's Servant, this Reaverschild, named?" "I do not know. If I did know, I would know also who he is and probably where to find him. I warn you: if you should learn his name, do not speak it, and especially do not conjure with it. To use a Servant's name with knowledge is to give an opening to that Servant to to reach you and bind you. There is no power in the naming of Servants, only danger for the unwary. "What, then, can we do to assist you?" Thorn wanted to know. "Whatever you will. Watch the changes. Tell me of the imbalances. Listen for his gods and oppose them however you are able. And if you come across the faintest sign of his presence, let me know." "How will we know him if we meet him?" Nescie asked. "Believe me, if he shows himself to you, you will _know_. Just as you see me, hear me, smell me, taste me, and know what I am, you will know him if he reveals himself. If he does not, even I might not see him, but he must show himself to invoke his nature." "The two of you are, like, opposites, right?" said Rivy. Dariel tilted his head to one side as if looking at her from a different angle. "In a way, yes." "So what happens when you find him? Who's going to win? What happens if you do? And what happens if he does?" "We are fated to meet, he and I, though I do not know the conditions nor the time. There will be a confrontation, and I do not see the ending. I suppose we will fight; that is part of the way things seem to be. If I defeat him, life continues as it has and as it does: it always does. If he overcomes me, then he will no longer be hidden, nor need to be. In that case, the portents will be clear, and you will have to do what you can, save what you can, and hold to what you hope for as long as you can. Perhaps one will come to fetch me back; perhaps not. "It should not come to that; I feel in my marrow I can take him. The only question is, at what cost?" The room was silent. "If there is nothing else, I will step down so Delalle can make his presentation. I will stay in contact with the Guild. If you wish to speak to me later, call me and I will come." There were no further questions. Dariel moved to one side as Delalle came forward. "This matter begins nearly eight decades ago, when I first received indications that could conceivably be interpreted as my death, followed shortly by large-scale disaster. Very vague indications, nothing that would warrant an investigation, but indications none the less. "Over the next sixty years, I attempted to clarify the visions, sometimes successfully, sometimes unsuccessfully. Now that we are at the brink of the time I foresaw, I can see why: we have been or are about to be struck by at least six distinct near-cataclysms, all within the decade. It is no wonder that the signs were so confused. "As any of you who served as Archmagi during those years will recall, I did not consider this the most pressing of tasks, although I did continue my researches in my spare time. Twenty years ago, my efforts were rewarded. I found direct evidence of Dariel's Master, the Keeper, and I knew that the rest of my life and my death were linked to His struggle. I went into seclusion to winnow out the distracting effects of other disasters at this time, to meditate on the implications of what would occur, and to prepare myself fully to educate one of His Servants, should one come and require my knowledge. One has come, and I have passed on what I know, and have considered, to the best of my ability." "You mean that you sealed yourself away to save yourself so that when Dariel arrived, he would have someone to talk to?" "I don't think you appreciate the seriousness of the situation, Thorn. I regret that I was not able to assist you against the ArchLiche. I very much regret every death. Every one. But this was, and is, more important still." "You said you foresaw your death. Have you done anything to attempt to change it? Are you still going to die?" "I think so. I don't seem to survive to the end of this situation, I'm afraid. That does not seem to change, whatever I do. However, I do not know when it will happen. Some of my visions placed it several years ago. Others, several years hence." "Delalle," Leonaco said, "I think you have shown admirable foresight in planning for this eventuality. I can also see that you made a very difficult choice about which catastrophe to prepare for, and it does seem that you picked one with extremely important consequences; this is exactly what Supreme Archmages are for. However, I would have thought that you might have informed the rest of us about what you were doing and also resigned as Supreme Archmage when you decided to withdraw from this plane, and certainly when you learned that your death was imminent. "Because you did not, and because you still think you will die before this is resolved, I wish to call for a vote of non-confidence." "I support that," Thorn said unhesitantly. "And I also," said Fauteuil. Delalle looked surprised. "Very well. You have enough votes to make this an issue. I would like to say in my defense that the reason I did not tell any of you was because it appeared to be an important factor in my readings that I did not. I did not resign as Supreme Archmage for the same reason -- it was necessary to keep both my activities and my location hidden, and this seemed the best way. "I would also have it known that Urcohea would be my choice for my successor; I do understand that twenty years of his unofficial leadership may have soured some of you a little about him, but I urge you to give him a fair consideration." "That's a different thing altogether, Delalle. May we get on with the voting?" Thorn suggested. "Yes," Delalle said begrudgingly. "The proposition is a motion of non-confidence in me as Supreme Archmage. I believe that the most senior Archmage who does not hold the position is empowered to preside over this vote. Dasham?" "I see you still remember the procedures after twenty years' absence," Dasham said. "The vote is as Delalle states. A vote for the motion is a vote to remove Delalle from his position. A vote against the motion is a vote to allow him to continue as he would. Is that clear? Any final questions for Delalle? "All right. Then, as the most senior Archmage, I open the voting with a vote for the motion." Delalle looked slightly hurt, but of course voted against the motion. Leonaco cancelled out the Supreme Archmage's double-weighted vote by adding his vote to Dasham's. Unsurprisingly, Urcohea and Thorn's votes cancelled each other out, Urcohea voting against and Thorn voting for. Fauteuil followed Thorn's lead, tipping the balance towards the non-confidence motion. Rivy mischievously balanced the total by voting against, leaving the deciding vote in Nescie's hands. Nescie was flustered as he realized that everyone in the room was staring at him again. He snatched at his first gut feeling desperately and stammered "For. I vote for the non-confidence motion." "That's it," Thorn said triumphantly. "We need to decide on a new Supreme Archmage." "Not so fast, Thorn," Urcohea said. "There is one more Archmage who must be consulted, and a deadlocked vote maintains the status quo." "Who?" Fauteuil asked. "The Keeper of the Generican Library is an Archmage and has a voice on the Council, although he rarely uses it. I think this is something that will concern him." Urcohea made a motion that opened a visual link elsewhere. "...sage, we have a Council issue that requires your attention." The albino dark elf looked into the link curiously. It was peculiar: he wore a blindfold that covered his eyes, but he appeared to be looking right at the Archmagi as he spoke. "What is it, Urcohea?" he said. Urcohea and Leonaco summarized the issue leading up the vote and the way the vote had gone. ...sage appeared to consider, then said, "I will come through to vote." Urcohea nodded, and briefly lowered the transport-ward guarding the chamber. ...sage materialized in front of the table, as the verifier once more rose out of the center of the table. It moved to him. The dark elf slid his hand into its opening and wove a humming copper-colored disk. Oddly enough, the verifier released his hand as soon as the disk lodged into its spell-receptacle. "I support Delalle and vote against the motion of non-confidence," he said. "Wait," Thorn said. "Take off your blindfold." "I--" ...sage started. Thorn stood suddenly and pointed. The blindfold blew off in a gust of wind, revealing normal eyes. "A trick! This is not ...sage!" "The genetic-scan matches perfectly and the others are slightly off," Leonaco said, "but within acceptable variations. Perhaps he finally found a solution for his curse and had his sight restored." Then ...sage moved his arms in a casting that Nescie recognized as the preliminaries of a spell causing the transmutation of blood to acid. Chair clattered to the floor as all the Archmagi rose out of their seats, strengthening personal wards and raising powers. 'Raelf did something that made him look relaxed but dangerous; Dariel seemed unconcerned. Urcohea acted first. He flicked his wrist, and a spray of blue lines sprang from his hand and struck ...sage with a single clear tone. The rest of the Archmagi held their preparations in check as ...sage was knocked back into the wall and fell to the ground, screaming, consumed by fires that burned from within. In scarcely half a minute, the remains were charred almost beyond recognition. "Now do you believe me?" Thorn asked. "Yes," said Dasham drily. "...sage has much better defenses. He couldn't have been affected to that degree by such a simple spell." "Somebody did a better job than I did," Leonaco observed, frowning. He rubbed his chin and went over to study the ashes. "What do you have to say for yourself, Urcohea?" Thorn asked. "I didn't have anything to do with this," Urcohea protested. "And why not?" accused Thorn. "You called ...sage in. You know the verifier better than any of the rest of us: you would know best how it could be misled, fed incorrect information, perhaps even reprogrammed on the fly by a carefully arranged pass-spell encoding. You have a lot to gain by having Delalle stay in power long enough to appoint you his successor. And you were the one who destroyed the evidence." "My spell was intended to be a binding, as you should know if you had paid any attention at all during your student years," Urcohea said through gritted teeth. "It looks to me as if any spell cast on that imitation of ...sage would have triggered that reaction and 'destroyed the evidence', as you put it. This requires a full investigation." "Ah, yes. An 'investigation', headed by you, also known as a 'cover-up'--" "Of course not, you, you--" "Stop!" Delalle shouted. "The vote stands as it is. I am no longer Supreme Archmage, and we must hold an election for that position. However, it should be clear to everyone that we are not going to get anything else done in this atmosphere of recrimination. Therefore, I suggest we adjourn the meeting to give everyone some time to calm down and think things over, and to have an analysis run on the remains." "That makes sense," Dasham said. "And as our guidelines state, I will serve as Supreme Archmage-in-interim, although I do not want the position on a permanent basis. The election will be the first thing on the agenda of the next meeting." The adjournment of the meeting went smoothly, although Urcohea glared at Thorn the whole time, and then started a vehement argument with him about his possible motives and ability to set up a duplicate of ...sage as soon as the meeting was officially declared to be ended. Leonaco called several mages in his department to preserve and examine further what was left of the counterfeit ...sage. Dasham swept out to carry out the changes in Guild policy with respect to her department, and Rivy disappeared also. Delalle and Fauteuil stopped to talk with Dariel and 'Raelf. Thorn and Urcohea were still yelling at each other when Nescie finally left the room. -- Comments, compliments, and complaints can be conveyed to: Bernie Hsiung (bshsiung@eecs.umich.edu) MagicHutchHeader From: bshsiung@quip.eecs.umich.edu (Bernard Hsiung) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] The passing of an Archmage Supreme Date: 4 May 1993 20:40:17 GMT Message-ID: <1s6kbh$dc9@zip.eecs.umich.edu> The number of stars in the sky is vast, beyond counting. Thus, it follows that most of them are unnamed and insignificant. Then there are many more which are unseen, invisible to the naked eye. Beyond these are stars that are undetectable even by the finest instruments. Their presence goes unnoted and for the most part ignored, even by the most knowledgeable of sages. After all, their influence, if any, must needs be small and easily overshadowed by the larger and more visible stars and planets. Mar sat in Nescie's room, humming tunelessly to himself with satisfaction. Once he had started, to continue was simplicity itself. One Forsaken would know his pantheon, and these would likely also to be gone from the minds of men. Then he could trace Them backwards and forwards to find others overlapping, coexisting. He knew They would come, starved for worship, starved for acknowledgement. Like moths to the flame, come and burn. Like sheep to the slaughter, come and die. One after another. How many sun gods have there been, with their chariots and barges and sundry conveyances? How many love goddesses, with their mirrors and beauty and fickleness? How many war gods, with sword and spear and armor? How many tribal gods, with the essence of their peoples? How many highgods, lords over the gods themselves? Many. Many. Lost first in the sands of time, then lost forever to Mar. His work proceeded. Mar had to choose most carefully so that his presence would remain diffuse and unclear. But as his strength grew, it would matter less and less, and he could raise new gods -- his gods -- to replace them, to distract any who searched for him, and to war with the known. Far above him in the distant sky, the lesser stars began to wink out. * * * Ex-Supreme Archmage Delalle was feeling slightly depressed about the events of the past twelve hours. He had tried his best to win over Leonaco's and Dasham's support during the meeting, but to no avail; Thorn had moved more quickly than he had anticipated. There was no way that Urcohea could become the next Supreme Archmage now -- the majority of the others would never support him without a detailed investigation into that mysterious clone of ...sage. Thorn would step into the power vacuum effortlessly; Leonaco and Dasham were too involved in their own work to want to be Supreme Archmage and it looked like Fauteuil and Nescie supported Thorn also. That thought made Delalle pause and reconsider. Why in the name of Blog had Nescie voted against him? He decided to find him and ask. The status monitor indicated that Nescie was still in his private labs, but he wasn't answering. Oddly enough, the door was slightly ajar and the wards half-disassembled, then partially reconstructed. Curious, Delalle summoned his staff of power and pushed through. Inside the lab it was dimly lit and eerily quiet. A pale bluish light flickered erratically from one end of the room with a slight crackling noise. As Delalle drew closer, he saw that Nescie stood with his back to him, leaning over a table. On the workspace, there rested a faceless humanoid made of some sort of jointed wickerwork. Delalle pushed his long white hair out of his eyes. Trapped within the sculpture he saw scores of soundlessly screaming swirling mouths. The light came from Nescie's hands as he molded the form; the noise was the sound of the wicker being bent into shape. "What are you doing, Nescie?" Nescie didn't even look up. "Nescie?" Then he straightened and turned around. There was something subtly wrong about the way he moved and the way he held himself. Delalle activated the lab lighting. Nescie's face was expressionless, the dark lines shifting there making it a shattered plaster mask. But his eyes were what caught Delalle's attention -- the eyes were not Nescie's light brown. They were a dull unreflecting and unrelenting black, the color of emptiness and despair. His mouth opened, and SOMETHING pronounced three words. "SERVE OR DIE." Delalle interposed his staff as his primary wards snapped down, sending a maximum alert to Security Central requesting priority support. It was plucked out of the aether and crushed. Delalle furrowed his brow and transhifted four planes skarnwise, but discovered himself still in Nescie's lab. He found that his Guildlink had been severed, his end replaced by an perfect fascimile that appeared to leave Nescie's quarters and return to his own. Delalle's analysis spells were working overtime. The readings were impossible: from this distance they could barely tell that a power like that of a god laid shrouded in hibernation on the table, but they said that Nescie was just Nescie and nothing more. There was only one conclusion that made sense to Delalle. "You are the Reaverschild?" "I AM MAR," the thing-in-Nescie proclaimed. Delalle's gaze was drawn to Nescie's shadow, rippling and flowing like a thing alive. He released a second flurry of message spells but these, too, were intercepted before reaching their destinations. The gateway of Delalle's desire failed to manifest. He prepared his remaining personal defenses, recalling Dariel's warning about naming. "What kind of service do you want?" he asked, hoping to buy himself some time. "YOU DO NOT SERVE," Mar answered. Nescie's robes bulged as something shifted within them. A thousand thread-filaments as dark as hatred lanced through his clothes, spraying against Delalle's wards and wrapping around them with a noise like sizzling oil, halted inches away. Delalle tried to expand his wards to give him more working space, but they were held in place. He invoked forces of destruction against the threads, but they were not of matter. He invoked forces of dispersion, but they were not of energy. Then he channelled a pure wind of random creation upon them and the sizzling grew louder as they figeted and were repelled. For a period of perhaps ten seconds, Delalle thought he might live. Then the counterblow fell. Nescie's shadow bent twice backwards and shattered his staff, cutting through the wards as if they weren't even there. The tendrils that followed were a swarm of wasps, ripping into his body. And where they touched, they burned like barbs of acid, fire, and ice. Delalle was slammed to the floor with the awful splintering sound of breaking bone. He felt the strands assaulting his secondary wards and watched through his status spell as, one by one, the wards fell and the threads tore into his vital organs. It was unbelievably painful to change his position by even the slightist amount. Breathing became impossibly difficult, every breath a gasp of torment. Delalle heard a faint dripping, and felt his robe growing damp, the floor slippery with his blood. He coughed incessantly, the sporadic movements causing uncontrollable new sensations of agony. Mar's filaments twisted, coiled, twisted again. They raised him up off the ground, and then Mar made him shuffle puppet-like around the room in halting, fitful, painful steps, a mockery of a walking man. The pace doubled, then doubled again, until he was nearly running. The pain was overwhelming. Delalle tried to breathe, but only blood came from his mouth, dribbling down his chin and staining his beard. He shuddered once more, and died. Being dead felt rather peculiar to Delalle, but at least it no longer hurt. His soul should have been immediately whisked away to his quarters for reconstitution but his prior preparations, like all his other magical structures, had been split from him and unmade. So he just stood there, waiting. Then he saw her -- a pale, black-haired woman. She looked at Mar solemnly, silently, and stretched her hand out to Delalle. He reached for it. Mar paused in his motion and turned from Delalle's pulverized corpse. He stared directly at the two of them, and started to walk towards them. The tendrils retracted instantly into Nescie's robes, Delalle's body crumpling to the ground with a muffled thud. He stepped over the corpse and the blood, and as his shadow slid over them, they were utterly gone. Delalle felt himself moving slower and slower as Mar drew closer. Moments before he could grasp the pale hand, he found Mar standing between them, keeping them separate. He said something harshly incomprehensible to the black-haired woman. She flinched, withdrew her hand, and took a step back from Mar, then dissolved into nothingless like smoke and tears. Delalle's last observation as Mar's shadow claimed him was the haunted sadness in Death's eyes. * * * Security Mage Rusken blinked at the monitor as one of his indicators sputtered and winked out. "Ariel and Hecate," he swore. "Dieter, we just lost Delalle." "What? Where?" "I don't know; he was in his room a second ago and just now his signal stopped. Let me run a trace," he said. Dieter checked his boards and answered, "Okay. Delalle's rooms show normal environment enclosure. I'm sending Beta in with full prep and calling Nijorik." Nijorik took one look and summoned Urcohea, who accessed the complete time-location records, cursing mightily all the while. They checked with Nescie, who might have been the last to see him, but he arrived, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He said that he had been taking a nap and hadn't answered his door. Overriding the privacy spells, the Beta response team gated directly to Delalle's rooms, ready for anything, but found them empty, with no indication that anything out of the ordinary had occurred. It was almost as if he had never been. -- Comments, compliments, and complaints can be conveyed to: Bernie Hsiung (bshsiung@eecs.umich.edu) MagicHutchHeader From: bshsiung@quip.eecs.umich.edu (Bernard Hsiung) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Metamorphosis: Turning Despair to the Light Date: 4 May 1993 22:53:22 GMT Message-ID: <1s6s52$gcr@zip.eecs.umich.edu> "No! Don't go! Wait!" But she bolted and fled down the streets of Generica as if all the demons of Hell were after her. It hurt -- it hurt so much -- to run, the pain in her side forcing a gasp with every step, but surely it would be better than the fate he planned for her. The crowds dispersed before her like startled pigeons, then closed behind her just as quickly. She took a mother's cry for her starving child, a man's loss of his wife in the storm barely past, a coin from her first offering, and shaped them into a handful of tiny poisoned needles that she clutched to herself as a last desperate measure. The white-robed man saw that she was halfway down the street already, about to turn a corner, so he took a step -- -- and she ran right into him. She bounced, panicked, recovered instantly, moving to one side and driving a needle deep into his right arm as he reached for her. He cried out, stumbling, and she turned to run again. But his left hand shot out like a striking snake, caught her by the shoulder and spun her about, as his foot swept her legs. She fell. She tried to roll away, but his knee was in her stomach and his hand was firmly holding her hand which held the rest of the needles. Her thoughts were spinning, scattered like leaves in a whirlwind, and she was sure that she was going to die. When she did not, she opened her eyes, taking her first sure look at him. He seemed young and healthy next to her frost-white skin. His brown hair was untidy, not quite falling into his eyes. And his eyes -- they were blue, clear blue, so very alive, and in a sudden wistful pang, she realized that they were exactly what her eyes were not and could never be. The crowds ignored the two of them, flowing around them, never even noticing. His eyes moved up then down, looking her over. Then he spoke. "If I let you up, will you promise not to run away?" His voice was softly caring. She never thought that he would address her in such a way. "You -- you're not going to, to destroy me?" He shook his head. "Not unless you wish it. Would you like to lie there all day, or would you prefer to stand?" "I promise." There was nothing else to do; he had caught her, defeated her. "Good." He stood, helped her to her feet. Even with his assistance, she got up slowly and carefully because of the never-healing bruises and aches that stabbed at her whenever she moved. "Please put those away," he said, indicating the needles she still held. "I hope you won't be needing them anymore." She tucked them into her pockets distractedly. What did he mean by that? He smiled, then, and she looked away, afraid even to breathe. He gently turned her to face him again. "Time for introductions. I know who you are, little Despair, but you probably do not know me. I am Dariel." "You unmade my brothers. Why haven't you unmade me?" she asked, feeling a strange mixture of curiosity and dread. "You are lovely, you know," Dariel said solemnly, tilting her head up to look at him directly. It was true. She was bedraggled, downtrodden, but, even so, she had a beauty barely half obscured by the broken form, the bruises, and the blood. It was the kind that caught at the throat: it was so unfair that she should be so fair, and suffering. "Again, I am amazed at what the Reaver has wrought." He traced a finger along the line of her face and she trembled. "Don't be afraid," he said. He took her in his arms, oh so carefully, and held her. For once, just once, in her existence, the gnawing emptiness that she knew inside fled far away and was replaced by a feeling of peace and contentment, quickly followed by a sense of wonder and a tiny hint of joy. "I can't -- I don't deserve this. Are you going to let me go?" "Shhh... don't cry. Better than that. Would you like to be able to feel this way?" "You can do that?" "Yes. I can. It is fortunate that you manifested this way, so closely to another. You will keep your memories, though; they will strengthen you against turning back." "I..." She couldn't stop crying. The loneliness, the futility, the hiding, all swept away... "I accept." "Hold to me." She put her arms around him, and he disentangled her hair matted with blood, the bump on her head disappearing as he touched it. Her dilated pupil slowly shrunk to a normal size. The color crept back into her face as he brushed his fingers along the bruises and gashes there, and she almost laughed at the ticklish sensation as he massaged the tender spot in her side. He ran his hand over her injured hand and healed the rest of the aches and pains. There were so many, almost too many to count, but he found them all. She felt whole again, and clean. Then he turned his wrist over, a golden ichor beginning to glisten in the cut that opened there. He offered it to her, saying "Drink. It will work the changes within to match those without. And know that once you have taken of me willingly, you are tied to me and not to the one who made you." She nodded and drank deeply. The liquid burned as it went down like hot cider on a chilly winter's night, and as she swallowed, she felt the warmth spreading through her body. She found herself giggling uncontrollably. He gave her three mouthfuls, hugged her very tight, and stepped back. She looked at the world with new eyes, brightly shining eyes of grey, soft like silk. She did a pirouette, just because she felt like it and just because she could, and burst out laughing. Dariel laughed too, and said "Look in your pockets." She did and found that the venomed needles had become licorice sticks and candy canes, colored crayons and colored paper, and a yoyo. "Thank you! Thank you so much!" she exclaimed. She stepped closer, threw her arms around him, and kissed him, then turned to leave. "One last thing." She stopped, and looked at him quizzically. She watched quietly as he drew the remaining needle from his arm with a wince and handed it to her. She held her hand out hesitantly, but as she was about to touch it, it turned into a red and silver pinwheel. She swung it through the air with a grin, then went skipping down the street, holding it before her, laughing as the crowds parted for her. Dariel watched until she was nearly at the end of the street. She turned, smiling. He waved at her. She waved back enthusiastically before ducking around the corner, out of sight. He sighed happily, then headed back to the Mage's Guild. ---- ADMIN: Thanks to Li (li@inigo.data-io.com) for the idea of a goddess of despair... And apologies for the pun; I just couldn't resist. *smile* Comments, compliments, and complaints can be conveyed to: Bernie Hsiung (bshsiung@eecs.umich.edu) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: acorboy@ux4.cso.uiuc.edu (Andrew E Corboy) Subject: [Blade] Tyrone gets out of the Sewers Date: Tue, 4 May 1993 22:59:58 GMT Message-ID: Realizing that Meshtak was going in another direction, and that Gortok couldn't possibly get to him in time, Tyrone took his own advice and dived into the drainage pipe. Crawling along as quickly as possible through the pipe, the ex-knight was dismayed to find that it suddenly split off into several smaller pipes that all led to the surface and were all far to small to fit a man. Diminuex!" Uttering a command to his Mighty Two-Handed Sword, Tyrone was gratified to see that the 6 foot blade had not lost the ability to reduce itself to the size of a dagger on command. Another tremor shook the weakened sewers, and the ex-knight realized that haste was definitely in order. For the second time in as many days, Tyrone shrank down to his full rabbit form. Very glad indeed that no one was around to see him do this, Tyrone gingerly grabbed his Great er...Dagger of Rabbitkind with his jaws and started to wriggle up the closest pipe. Jerimiah Oldbloom was an old man, and a tired one. He had lived in Generica all his life, and had been a witness to many strange and wonderous deeds. He'd seen Dragons by the hundreds thirty years ago, been there when the sun went out twenty years ago, and had stood among the militia during that wierd uprising ten years ago. Why, he'd even managed to be near Lowtown just in time to see Kron and his friends make thier way into the Shunned Center. He'd seen it all. Or so he thought. Off all the momentous events he had been around for, the one he was least prepared for was to see a filthy white rabbit with a glowing dagger in its mouth climb out of his outhouse. Unable to do more than stare at the strange sight, Jerimiah didn't even protest when the rabbit jumped out of the outhouse and dived into his rain barrel to clean off. When it emerged, it was in the form of a large half-man/half-rabbit wielding a Two-Handed Sword. The rabbit merely nodded his head at the gaping old man then bounded away down the street, with his sword in front of him, as if he were following the weapon to some magical destination. After staring for a while longer, Jerimiah realized he really was getting old, since in the old days he would have followed the beast to see what new and interesting things were happening in his home city. But now...no, he decided with a shake of his head, this ones just a little TOO wierd for me....Give me Dragons and invasions any day! Jon Gad / Sir Tyrone -- Andrew Corboy & Jon Gad | Jon Gad is only recieving mail from acorboy@ux4.cso.uiuc.edu | this account and assumes no | responsibility for posts made from it. | Even if Jon Gad wrote them. ;) MagicHutchHeader From: vi_paul@vax.cns.muskingum.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Admin. Goodbye. Message-ID: <1993May4.180816.5151@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 4 May 93 18:08:16 -0400 [ADMIN] Well everyone this has been a lot of fun, but I believe they are shutting down the computers soon and I will lose contact over the summer. I am going to leave Darkin in the hands of Heather and will hopefully be able to rejoin at some point in the future. I will keep in contact from time to time with the players from Muskingum, so good luck with your quest. }Z{ "Goldfish don't like jell-o, but little pigs like it green." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@lamar.ColoState.EDU (Alan Smith) Subject: Re: [ADMIN] Birthday Party/Demonic Invasion Message-ID: Date: Wed, 05 May 1993 02:02:44 GMT References: <1993May3.121334.1@aurora.alaska.edu> In article <1993May3.121334.1@aurora.alaska.edu> asgds@aurora.alaska.edu writes: > Well, I know I am still pretty new to the group and all, but I have an >IDEA! > I have noticed that there have been some concerns with how we are going >to deal with a Birthday Party and Demonic Invasion. Why not just combine them >both. > > Picture it Generica, Adventurer's Central is holding a party to >celebrat the founding of the city, (Someone recently found some documents >proving Generical was founded on such and such a date however many years agoe >we want to say.) Impromptu parties start to break out all over. Or Melwis could just decree it. Call it "Generica Day." > The parties get kind of out of control it goes from a big blow-out to a >Mardi-Gras type thing and goes even more out of control from there! > Then we have the emergence of Demons and such, and reality warping >effects from the uncotrolled release of Magic! That would be wierd. The JOI people have Demons already in their thread, if they could be convinced to head back here, the demons might follow... (I do believe this was the origional proposal) > (Perhaps some of the partie goers don't even notice! A lot of humor >could result from this!) Definitely! > Heck, I'm a newbie too. I'll just follow the herd on this one. Palandun the Cow. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu (Daniel Steven Reinker) Subject: [blade] Meshtak makes peace with his Gods Message-ID: <1993May5.013218.27116@cheshire.oxy.edu> Date: Wed, 5 May 1993 01:32:18 GMT Meshtak dropped the prone body of Arcadio. He was hearing voices emerging from the temple of Joyla, and decided he might as well go in. He was aware of Joyla the All-bringer as a human goddess, but she closely matched the Dragan God Antakantus From-Which-All-Comes, and Meshtak felt a little comfort being by Her temple. Perhaps the two were related. Meshtak had long abandoned Antakantus, when he left the plains. Antakantus was a God of contentment, and Meshtak did not pursue contentment. He didn't know what he was after, or what God he worshipped now. Perhaps no God, perhaps some God of Adventure and Chaos. Whatever, he entered the temple. The place was crowded with refuges, most huddled on benches. A long line of people stretched from the request circles, where followers of Joyla made special requests of her. A man walked up. "Refuge or requester?" he asked briskly. Meshtak lifted his cloak. "Refuge, I guess." he said. "At least until the rain stops." The man gaped. "What form of creature are you?" he asked. "Demon?" "Draga. I come in peace." Meshtak lifted his hands to show he held no weapons. Indeed, he didn't; he had dropped his shiftsword back in the sewers. Meshtak felt a little distressed to realzie this; that sword had helped him out of a lot of scrapes. He would have to go back and look for it before he went after Hendrix. "All right. The temple of Joyla is open to all refugees right now. Human...or draga. If you wish to make a request, you may stand in line. Joyla always listens, though She rarely delivers." The man walked off to help a family straggling in. Meshtak could see that the priests were struggling to cover the windows with heavy planks of wood. "Aw, what the grot." he said. "Might as well be useful." He walked over, and started to assist them. Meshtak the Draga -- "You can't help that. We're all mad here." - The Cheshire Cat, Alice in WL "Twisting under schizophrenia/ Falling deep into Dementia" - Metallica Subscribe to the CJ mailing list! Send e-mail to dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu. Include your e-mail address!!!! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@lamar.ColoState.EDU (Alan Smith) Subject: [NoThreadYet] Palandun: Prelim Spadework. Message-ID: Date: Wed, 05 May 1993 02:50:51 GMT References: <1s4htp$5se@c3po.jvnc.net> On his third day in Generica, Palandun decided to get to work. He would make a visit to the Generica University that day, see his advisor, and check out some equipent. First, however, he wanted breakfast, and that meant the obligatory breakfast talk with Ja'nis. "I found a job." She said while Palandun was spreading Jam on his toast. "I'm going to be guarding a merchant's wife." "Mmmmph." Palandun said, taking a largish bite. "What?" "I said 'Mmmmph.' I meant 'please go on.'" "Oh. Well I just walked right up to the door. He had his own butler and everything. So I tell the butler I'm looking for a job, right? He gets this hoity-toity look and asks 'as what, miss?' We both look at my sword and I answer 'as a guard.' So he shows me into Gunther Toodie's office and he's SO cute-" "The butler?" "No. Gunther Toodie, you DO know who he is, don't you?" Palandun shakes his head 'no.' "He's only the richest trader out of Specifica of the Gems! Surely you've heard of Toodies Trinkets?" Palandun again confesses ignorance. "Dang, what do you people do in Bismania?" "Lotsa stuff. We tended to trade with the West continent before it fell under the Dominion. After that we traded with ourselves. Occasionally an adventerous soul would seek the Great Majic Isle. They didn't return often enough to make that profitable, though." "Well, you missed out if you haven't been to Toodie's Trinkets. I'll tell you what, He's taking a trip back to Specifica of the Gems in a couple days, would you like to go along?" "I may be a bit busy, besides, won't he mind?" "Not at all, He says his staff gets perqs that most staffs don't. Anyway he was SO cute I asked for bedroom duty for the next month." Palandun wonders exactly what this Toodie person means by his 'staff,' then dismisses any impropriety as improbable. "There wasn't any impro- Forget I asked." Ja'nis takes this statement at face value, at least as far as Palandun can tell. Palandun continues to dwell on Ja'nis as he makes his way to the university. He's not jealous, just...concerned. He can't ask any questions, though, since he hasn't any claim on her sex life. Finally he decides to watch for mood swings while maintaining a supportive front. About all he allows himself to do. Finally, after much thought and losing his way, he arrives at the Generican University ADMIN: Alfvaen, you (or anyone else, for that matter) can use this part in the Tourists guide. The University covers many blocks of Generica, just east of the royal palace. Architcturally, it is like many universities, sporting building styles ranging from Very Ancient to Thirty Years ago. It currently educates upwards of 7,000 students from all over the near parts of Nexus, one of the largest universities in the world. It supports a prime Jousting Team (Conference champions two years ago), with the rest of the athletic department providing a solid program. The most notable part of the University is the College of Magic, one of the few programs to support a degree in Necromancery. Students tend to frequent the Quad, Student Center, and the Happy Mage Inn. ADMIN: End quotable part. Palandun, after asking directions more times than he'd care to recall, finally finds his way into the College of Nature. After that, finding his advisor is a simple task. Their discussion of rats is spared us, fortunately, save the practical upshot, which is that Palandun should wait a while and get aquainted with the city. Meanwhile: "Would you mind teaching a section of my class's laboratory?" His prof asks. "Sure, what class is it?" "Monsters, Familiars, and Beasts: Biology for Mages." "Rats." Palandun says. "You can use them if you like. Lab meeting is the day before classes start, promptly at noon. That's two weeks from now." MagicHutchHeader From: s924739@yallara.cs.rmit.OZ.AU (Barry M Prismall) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Tarkyn: Looking for a thread Keywords: Tarkyn Message-ID: <18673@goanna.cs.rmit.oz.au> Date: 5 May 93 07:16:59 GMT [ADMIN Well the subject says it all. Is there anyone out there that would take Tarkyn into their thread? He is a ranger/mage and was in the Raoh thread... ] Thanks in advance... Barry Prismall s924739@minyos.xx.rmit.oz.au MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir-the-Love-Stricken-and-happy) Subject: [blade] Max meets the boys Message-ID: Date: Wed, 5 May 1993 11:11:06 GMT A less than shining figure zipped out of the sewers into the Generican street. The wind hit full in the face, and the rain was hard against hiss armour, but it cleaned him of muck and grime veery quickly. [Location] /C-37\ A small map appeaared on his face-plate showing him that he was on some street or other. Max turned , expecting tto see the others come out in aa classic nick-of-time fashion. They didn't. There was an ominous crashing sound from the sewers. "Bannen!! Meshtak!!" Max dived back in, but the rubble cam piling on. He had to retreat or risk injury. Max waited until the dust cleared. He called down through the rocks a few times. [ScanMotionSonar] /...Motion.detected.C-32\ Max climbed back out and ran over towards the location. It was a couple of streets away, an easy run. He stopped. There was an Old Man staring in disbelief as the half-rabbit guy bounded away. What the hell was that guy's name anyway? Tyrell, or something like that. Max went after him. "Hey, friend, where'd the rest of 'em get to ?", he called to the half rabbit. -- 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 MagicHutchHeader Date: Tuesday, 4 May 1993 14:39:16 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93124.143916344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] Drawing Attention [ADMIN: Thanks go to Stilt Man and Joe Carl Jr. for their assistance in this.] As they left Kadrys to be alone again, Darvos glanced at Lancos questioningly. "I thought you said Kadrys was interested in vampies." "Yes, and I was correct." the warrior replied. He was somewhat taken aback at the vampire's dimissal of the subject. It wasn't as if Kadrys didn't have tons of time ahead of him. But he refused to even suggest the truth, if Kadrys wanted to hide it. "I guess he's just secretive about his life. I suppose I would be too, in his situation." "Ah. I can certainly respect someone's privacy. Besides, we have other subjects to deal with. For example, acquiring some lunch." They hailed a waitress, and despite the busy atmosphere, it wasn't long before one approached. The adults ordered, Darvos caring after Lissa's needs, and Lancos after Bast's. Afterwards, they were about to take a seat, when a voice from behind caught their attention. "Excuse me." it said in sharp, resounding tones. The group turned around to see a being of average size and shape. But that -- rather subjective, and possibly incorrect -- information was all they could really determine, as most of the features were hidden behind a shrouding cloak. "May I be of assistance?" Lancos gave a smile, both at the possibility of help, and its source. "Sure, Shrouded One." Kryalla kept what little surprise she felt internal. "You know of me?" "Yes. I know you've been around Generica for longer than even I. There's a few rumors about you, one even saying that you were in the Dragon's Inn before there were so many dark corners in the place." Kryalla's gaze wandered a moment, but as soon as the fact registered in Lancos' mind, he was again alone in her scrutiny. He thought he saw a ghost of a smile drift across her lips. "Rumors of you also abound, Lancos." The warrior dismissed his shock in favor of changing the subject. "That's not important, unless it deals with my newest companions, Darvos Mentar and Lissa, or my tag-along Bast." The humans gave their own small greetings as Lancos gestured to them, although the cat seemed interested in nothing as much as giving herself a bit of a bath. "Now, what about you offer of help?" The Shrouded One nodded, reading by his reaction that he didn't want to hear about his past from others. "Indeed," she said, gesturing to her table. "Come and share your tale." They agreed, followed her to the table, and sat down. Lancos observed the surroundings: he had never been in a corner table of the Dragon's Inn, and he wanted to see what made it seemingly so attractive. Not much, as far as he could tell, save a painting that hung on the wall. It was of a beautiful seaside setting, with the sun's reflections and shadows on the water well represented. It was signed by someone named "Kaalzic", with some symbols afterward that were probably part of a language he didn't know. He was just finishing his appreciation of the picture when the food arrived. Above what they had ordered, the tray contained a drink for Kryalla. That was one thing you could say about the Dragon's Inn: they adapted and trained well to meet their customers' needs. Lancos put the meal on his tabe. Darvos initially resisted, but the warrior dismissed his worry, saying that he'd always have enough money to be at least comfortable. "Go ahead then." Darvos' last words were, though no sour emotion flowed through them. Lancos was puzzled for a second, as by this time the waitress had already left. Then he realized that Darvos meant for him to go on with the tale. He took a deep breath, and began to speak: "It all started innocently enough, at least on my end. I was following the advice of a seer named Enn Piecy, and in part of Low City. It was there that I found Bast here stuck under a garbage container, and just waiting to be 'saved'. After feeding her, she decided to follow me for whatever reason. "Anyway, soon after I heard a scream, and of course tried to pinpoint the source. Eventually, after a second scream in a different voice, I came across the Gutt Man, and helped the Little Rat to save herself from that menace. "A few seconds later, while I was comforting her, Darvos came along. After a bit of a bout with mistaken identity, Darvos was reunited with Lissa, who had gone down to Low City to share the wealth with old friends, but had fallen astray when the Gutt Man attacked. "We tried to take the Gutt Man to jail, but somehow he woke. His speed surprised us, and before we could do anything effective, he was gone with Lissa. We followed as best we could, though we had troubles with the rain and another delay. "The second delay was that an amulet Darvos had given Lissa had been discarded. It was picked up accidently by a woman with darker skin, curly hair, and this amulet with -- as I recall -- three interlocking trees, made of silver, I'd say. "Nevertheless, we found where Gutt Man had taken Lissa. And more than we expected, since there was also a mage there we had never seen. Obviously, we rescued Lissa, but the enemy escaped, through use of a teleportation spell. So, we need help trying to find these people, and stopping them and whoever is with them before more harm can be done." Kryalla nodded, her ebon eyes as unreadable as ever. "I will assist you." "Great." Lancos exclaimed. "If I... we can return the favor in the future, just let me know." "So noted." the Shrouded One replied. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Andrea and Sheryl/Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] Callus Plots Revenge--And Someone Else Plots With Him Date: Wed, 05 May 93 13:23:33 CDT Message-ID: <16BC5BC56.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu> Keywords: [AU] Callus Andrea Sheryl Dragon's Inn [ADMIN: Hi! Andrea & Sheryl here again! It's been WAAAAY too long since our last post here, and rather than hang around, we're planning to throw this into the pot. The timeframe is during Kardia's work with Sheryl on breaking the curse...] Callus stood in a dark alley, gazing darkly at the doorway to the Dragon's Inn across the Plaza of Glittering Steel. He kept a silent vigil there, not for any real reason, but because he knew that SHE was in there. That--that BITCH who had humiliated him in front of the whole floating market. Callus had completely forgotten, or more correctly chose not to remember, that he had been trying to mug her at the time. What was foremost in his mind was that she had held him at knifepoint and paraded him around the market, in the nude. That was something he could never forgive. Not that he was a very forgiving person to begin with. He had asked around about her after she had gone, and those who hadn't laughed at him said that she was currently staying at the Dragon's Inn. And that she had a unicorn with her. (Those who had laughed were no longer in a position to laugh about anything else.) So, now he stood there and watched the inn, seething inside. He knew that she was better than he was, and that he'd have no chance against her in a fair fight. Of course, thieves hardly ever fought fair, but then she was a thief also so they were even. He was considering going down to Low Town and rounding up a gang, but then he recalled that they were all helping with rebuilding in the wake of the storm, so it was unlikely that there would be anyone who would help him. As he stood there watching the inn, Callus had no idea that he was himself being watched. But not watched as he was watching the inn; he was being observed through magic. A darkly-robed man stood in a dark room in a dark house, holding a greenly glowing orb that projected an image onto the wall. The image of Callus, along with some shifting runes beneath him and to the side. "Excellent," the man intoned. "This one will do nicely." He touched a red rune on the green orb, and a green pulse shot from the orb into the image, centering itself on the roguish thief. The man began to chant in some unknown tongue. Callus felt strange--lightheaded all of a sudden. Then he looked down, saw himself fading. "Hey, what the--?" Then he blinked out completely When Callus came to again, he was standing in the middle of a dark room. "What--who are you?" he asked the man who was standing not far away from him, clad in dark robes with a hood over his face. "Who I am is not important," the man intoned in a deep, reverberating voice. "What is important is this--you wish revenge on the thief who made you look like a fool in the floating market the other day." "I--yes, yes I do!" Callus said. "But how do you know that?" "I know many things," the man said. "And as it turns out, I wish for you to have that revenge." "You--you do?" Callus found this a little hard to believe. "But what am I to you?" A tool, the man thought. A fool to do my bidding. "Never mind that," the man said. "I will give you the means with which to have your revenge if you will do what I tell you to. Is that clear?" Callus just stood there, his jaw sort of hanging open. The dark man could almost see the gears in his foolish little mind working. What an idiot, he thought. What a simple fool. He'll do anything to have his revenge on Andrea, and he thinks I might help him. Yes, he'll do it. I know he will. "I--I'll do it. Tell me what I have to do." "Ah, I knew you would not fail me. Take this." He opened his gloved hand and something sparkled in it. Then it floated up and over to Callus, hovering in front of his face. "This ring is filled with a deadly poison. Prick the thief with the needle contained within, and she will die. You MUST kill her that way, not with any other means, is that understood? Or is that beyond your abilities and I must find another?" Callus set his jaw, his pride stung. "I can do it." He reached out and grabbed the ring. "Is that it?" "No, that is not. With the thief is a small unicorn. She must not be harmed, she must be brought to me, is that quite clear? If you accomplish that, there will be much gold in it for you." Not that he COULD, but it would provide the diversion he needed. "I will do it," Callus said. Then, "But wait," he added as a thought struck him. "What about that magical restriction against violence in the inn? I won't be able to do the deed if that--" "No, no, the restriction is only on the common room," the dark man said. "Otherwise, some of the guests might have problems with...certain forms of entertainment in their rooms at night. Just wait until she is in the corridor, or in her room, and you will be able to do it." "But--" "Oh, here, if it makes you feel any better..." Another trinket floated across the room. "This amulet will protect you from the prohibition's effects." Actually it wouldn't; it was just a trinket he'd picked up on the street, but Callus didn't have to know that. "Ah, thank you. Now I can do the job." "Yes, do it. Do it now. And do it the way I told you or it will be hard on you." The magician's voice carried sinister overtones, and Callus swallowed hard, not wanting to face a mage's wrath. "I promise you I will do just as you said." "Good." Then reality flickered, and Callus was back in the alley again. The dark man watched him, laughing inwardly. The "poison" was really a sleeping potion, which would put Andrea in a deep sleep for a time while HE went about HIS business. The man watched, and waited... -- Chris Meadows || Andrea & Sheryl CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || [AU] thread, alt.pub.dragons-inn CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || -------------------------------- CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || A supporter of rec.arts.creative MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] Callus' Revenge, and Magic Rears its Ugly Head Date: Wed, 05 May 93 14:20:59 CDT Message-ID: <16BC5C9CB.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu> Keywords: [AU] Callus Raykor Andrea Sheryl curse [ADMIN: Hi, Andrea and Sheryl here! This post involves, I'm afraid, a little violence that must needs take place inside the Inn. However, I'm explaining this by saying that the magic that prevents violence only works in the common room of the inn. If that doesn't hold true, then let's assume that Raykor's magic is powerful enough temporarily to override it, or SOMETHING. Due to plot restrictions, this can't happen anywhere else, it's extremely vital to the plot, and it's only one of my characters doing violence to one of my other characters (NPCs) so no one else should be affected, so even if there's no possible way to explain it, please look the other way, okay? Thanks...] Callus snuck into the inn through a side door, and up back into one of the corridors, stealthy as a shadow. All that was in his mind was Andrea...how he would prick her with that ring, and she would die. That would finally make up for the humiliation she had caused him. Only, in his mind, other plans presented themselves. Perhaps he would rape her, first, and knock her around a little. Yeeees, that sounded more the thing...he would utterly and completely humiliate her, and THEN he would kill her. That dark man would never know. Yes... His mind was so awash in his dirty little fantasies that he almost failed to notice Andrea herself, sitting outside the room, that dark cat in her lap. But the cat noticed him. It looked up, spat, caused Andrea to look up, too. Callus was wearing a cloak and a hood, so she probably wouldn't recognize him. He advanced on Andrea. Andrea stood, and the cat ran away. "Who are you?" she asked. Inside the cloak, Callus grasped his cosh. "I have a message for you..." he said in an old and infirm voice, coming closer...closer...almost there...NOW! He whipped his cosh out and swung at Andrea even as he tackled her. The cosh missed (Andrea had ducked out of its way), but the tackle succeeded, bearing her roughly to the floor and knocking her head against it, slightly stunning her. Callus pushed back his hood. "Do you recognize me now, Andrea?" He spat in her face. She blinked, coming around. "You humiliated me. You cost me dearly. Now I'm going to have my way with you, and I'm going to take that precious unicorn of yours and--EYAAAUGH!" Blood came pouring out of Callus' mouth, his body stiffened. Andrea stood up, wiping the spittle off her face, then removed her death knife from Callus' heart and rolled his body aside. "At last...I finally got to USE this thing." Quite by chance, as Callus' body rolled aside, the ring on his hand that the dark mage had given him scratched Andrea along the arm. "What in the world...? Oh no..." Andrea was getting very sleepy, and she knew why--the ring had been drugged! Andrea stumbled over to her backpack, and fumbled through it for the antidote she always kept...almost...she almost had it...there. She brought the glass vial out of the pack carefully, carefully...pulled the cork out...raised it to her lips...and sank to the floor, unconscious, before she could drink it. Then a dark, shimmering cloud formed nearby, and gradually coalesced into a humanoid shape. "Ah, Andrea..." Raykor said, grinning, hands beginning to weave back and forth in an intricate motion. "Long have I waited for this moment...in a very short time you shall plague me no more." Then the door burst open behind Andrea, and Sheryl came racing out, whinnying frantically. She glared at Raykor, who continued to work his intricate motions, as blue lighting formed between his hands, and gradually spread to the rest of his body as the dark chants gained power. Sheryl nudged Andrea frantically. Why won't she wake up?! Then she noticed the weal along her arm, and the vial of potion on the floor. Sleeping poison! There was no time to get Kardia...she'd have to do this herself. Raykor was too involved in his chant to cause her any harm. Sheryl reached down carefully with her mouth, and picked up the vial between her lips, being careful to keep it level so as not to spill any. She carefully lifted it over Andrea's open mouth, and then tipped it to the side, letting the fluid held therein run out of the tube, and go into Andrea's mouth. Andrea blinked, coughed, shook her head. "What the...?" Then Raykor completed his chant! The lighting he'd been gathering all around him leaped the gap from his outstretched arms to encompass Andrea in all its lethal glory. As the magical energy leaped and crackled around her, she sank, gradually, torturedly to the ground. [ADMIN: Uh-oh. What do we do now?] -- Chris Meadows || Andrea & Sheryl CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || [AU] thread, alt.pub.dragons-inn CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || -------------------------------- CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || A supporter of rec.arts.creative MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [ADMIN] [AU] [HouseStorming] Date: Wed, 05 May 93 14:39:31 CDT Message-ID: <16BC5CE23.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu> Keywords: Okay, so it will be a while... I would just like to mention that previously, we thought the HouseStorming would be over by May 14, the time when I will lose net access for approx. 3 weeks. However, the way things are looking now, we probably won't get STARTED by that time. Just thought I should let everybody know that there's no rush or anything... -- Chris Meadows || Andrea & Sheryl CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || [AU] thread, alt.pub.dragons-inn CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || -------------------------------- CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || A supporter of rec.arts.creative MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: asgds@aurora.alaska.edu Subject: [Besht] A new arrival at the temple. Message-ID: <1993May5.123328.1@aurora.alaska.edu> Date: Wed, 5 May 1993 20:33:28 GMT Seline looked at the dark-skinned young woman who had been brought to her office. Her dark skin was contrasted by her red hair and cobalt blue eyes, features which were unheard of in the dark skinned people's of the dark continent. Or so she had read. "You have asked to join the temple and serve Besht, why?" "It is the only choice I have m'lady." The woman looked at Seline with an incredible amount of self-assurance. There was a sense of strength about this girl that stirred something in Seline's heart. "Tell me how you came to the Temple," Seline motioned for the woman to sit on a couch, and when she had seated herself Seline joined her. "My name is Aurro. I was born on what you know as the Dark Continent to the Kansai tribe. For generations the women of my people have been preistess and wise-women. Thus my red hair and blue eyes, it is the sign that one bears the Gift. I was the first child born in many years to bear the Gift, so I became a protector of the Tribe. For many years I have used my poweres, and my knowledge of the Spiritworld and Dreamtime to keep the tribe from harm. About a year ago a strange tribe of Zre..." hate crept into her voice," of pale-skinned men began to make war upon the Kansai. We easily defeated them for a while, but they began to get stronger and stronger, then they began to use Dark Magic against us." The woman got a very far away look in her eyes. "The battles became fiecer and more terrible with each passing day. Finally they called forth a terrible storm, to destroy our defenses. I suumoned forth the full power of the Gift, trying to deflect the storm away from my home. Something... Something went wrong, horribly wrong. I was thrust into a Void, a lack of... Life. When I awoke I was in a clearing in a forrest I had never seen before. I picked my way out of the forrest and made my way to this city. I have been wandering the streets of Generica ever since. Among the Spirits that the Kansai worshipped the supreme among them was Mother Cat, she whom you know as Besht. This is the only connection I have to home..." Seline silenced Aurro with a gesture. "You may stay for as long as you like, and know that I will do my best to help you find a way home..." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: alden@coos.dartmouth.edu (Laurie F. Alden) Subject: Barmaid's Journal 24ish Message-ID: Keywords: potables Date: Wed, 5 May 1993 22:46:08 GMT I have been remiss. Get a load of the most up-to-date barlist that I have. Please send additions. I will use Zenith's character list, so tell me what you want before I try to recall, guess, or otherwise force strange liquids into your glass. Please reply before the anniversary. Oh, H&D, Zenith will you send me another list, I just did something rather drastic to mine... STAFF ----- Listener . . . . . . . . . . . Water & Honeywine Littlefair . . . . . . . . . . Whatever he wants Bob. . . . . . . . . . . . . Milk Mary . . . . . . . . . . . . usually wine Marux Ariendel . . . . . . . . Catamount Gold Serene Uhtsong . . . . . . . . Lots of water! Mista. . . . . . . . . . . . Milk (Mom's) The Short Ogre Cook. . . . . . Mead GUESTS ------ Alfaven. . . . . . . . . . . . Vodka Amaan . . . . . . . . . . . . Triple-Sent Artifice . . . . . . . . . . . Quaker State with a slice of lemon Azzar of Bloodstone. . . . . . Spruce Spirits Bakr ibn Ja'far ibn Musa al Mekneshi . . Goat's Milk Brycur . . . . . . . . . . . . Flaming Moe Captain. . . . . . . . . . . . Sailor's splash Cathal Colin Silvertree . . . . . . . Spruce Spirits Cragin von Pfeffenhausen . . . Jaegermeister Dougl . . . . . . . . . . . . Milk and cookies Elysian. . . . . . . . . . . . Apple Juice Emrikol. . . . . . . . . . . . Catamount Gold - with a straw Felix. . . . . . . . . . . . . Catamount Amber Fenris . . . . . . . . . . . . Samuel Smith's Old Brewery Pale Ale. Firecat. . . . . . . . . . . . Catamount Amber Gillian. . . . . . . . . . . . Catamount Gold (Borm) . . . . . . . . . . . Bowl of water Gorbaz . . . . . . . . . . . . Catamount Gold (Karlo). . . . . . . . . . . Bowl of Water Hamato Yoshi . . . . . . . . . Sake (Neko) . . . . . . . . . . . Bowl of water HighFlyer. . . . . . . . . . . Blossom Wine (Fallon) . . . . . . . . . . Bowl of water (Finnis) . . . . . . . . . . Shot of Catamount Gold Kadrys . . . . . . . . . . . . Mead (not that he drinks it) Karl . . . . . . . . . . . . . Heathic Tea Kaysha Tael. . . . . . . . . . Apple Juice Khisanth Blackblade. . . . . . Cinnamon Schnapps Alaric . . . . . . . . . . . SSOB Pale Ale Killian . . . . . . . . . . . Killian's Red Krialla Simuel . . . . . . . . Mistwine Kron, T E. . . . . . . . . . . Mulled Wine Lancos Erredan . . . . . . . . Sam Smith's Old Brewery Pale Ale Lathan Lancehand . . . . . . . Pear Nectar (Valiant). . . . . . . . . . Trough of Water Lucas Murphy (Father) Luthor Anside. . . . . . . . . Soul Sucker Maleiu . . . . . . . . . . . . vodka Mangrove . . . . . . . . . . . Lethespirit Murell . . . . . . . . . . . . Catamount Gold Namar Gray . . . . . . . . . . Pear Nectar Newt . . . . . . . . . . . . . Honey Wine Nightstalker . . . . . . . . . SSOB Pale Ale Nolan . . . . . . . . . . . . .Double Dragon Otter. . . . . . . . . . . . . Mulled Wine 'Raelf . . . . . . . . . . . . Catamount Porter Rhoan Pathkeeper . . . . . . . Spruce Spirits, C. Porter Chaser (Patch). . . . . . . . . . . Big Bowl of Water Rowan. . . . . . . . . . . . . Wine and Water ...sage . . . . . . . . . . . White Russian Salamander . . . . . . . . . . Sea Wine Scar . . . . . . . . . . . . . Guinness Stout Shakura Delena . . . . . . . . Catamount Porter Shar . . . . . . . . . . . . . Catamount Gold Shonias. . . . . . . . . . . . Wine SunStorm . . . . . . . . . . . Sandstorm TrueSilver . . . . . . . . . Mistwine ShockWave. . . . . . . . . . Neat's foot oil THK. . . . . . . . . . . . . . Sea Wine Thomas Silverfish (Tom). . . . Catamount Gold (Gaspode). . . . . . . . . . Bowl of water Timit. . . . . . . . . . . . . Lemon lime juice Tvarne Nillun. . . . . . . . . Apple juice Zenith . . . . . . . . . . . . Apple Juice with Apple Schnapps (1Meg) . . . . . . . . . . . Oilcloth (Bit&Byte) . . . . . . . . . Coupla Volts Zia. . . . . . . . . . . . . . Catamount Amber -- lfa@dartmouth.edu |I guess that's why Chief of Design - JourneyGarb |they call this the blues... Special Education - Norwich, VT |Time on my hands Instructor - University System of NH |could be time spent with you MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: alden@coos.dartmouth.edu (Laurie F. Alden) Subject: [L&S] Awakenings 1 Message-ID: Date: Wed, 5 May 1993 22:29:30 GMT [ADMIN: by Luthor, Captain, and Serene] Trina's hair hung limply, tucked behind her ears. It was impossible to figure out this household. The Captain obviously didn't work for the other two, they all treated one another as equals. The golden man with the elvish features was possibly the cook, but he seemed to come up with many of the ideas. The woman brought her food and asked friendly questions about her home on the farm. The only one here who obviously had the power to make demands which were instantly met was the infant, Mista. Go figure. The food was great. Her room was comfortably furnished. Was she a guest? Was she a prisoner? She had tested the waters by asking if she could go to watch the market. In the friendliest way, the woman had given her permission, and then accompanied her, wearing the baby across her abdomen. Was the company for supervision or friendliness? Home was so damnably long ago. And they kept asking about it. At first, Trina hadn't noticed. What was the beer like? How long was the growing season? What kinds of food are your favourites? They were all trying to pinpoint her home. She shifted in her position on a limb of the porch. She wasn't even sure she wanted to go home. Her indentured servitude was still legal; her father would most likely mutter something about holding up a contract, and return her to the importer. He would never believe that the merchant had gotten an offer for Trina herself and sold her for a handful of gold. For the thousandth time, she was grateful that she wan't pretty. She slammed her fists into the wall in frustration. Immediately, she pulled her hands away. "I'm sorry!" she gasped. Gently, apologetically, she stroked the bark where she had struck. Her eyes fixed, staring at the tree, concentrating trustingly. "No harm, Little One. Only surprise. I am strong of body and of heart. I can share your burden." Captain and Sgt. Alketus were sparring on the wide lawn. Serene and the baby were giggling on the margin. Luthor tended his herbs on the far end of the porch. There was no voice on the humid air to which she listened with such intensity. Sudden tears welled in her eyes, and she embraced the tree. Her arms barely described the hundredth part of its girth; her bitter, homesick tears soaked into the bark; her heavy heart leaned on the ancient tree. Luthor looked up from his carefully-tended calendula to see Trina sobbing against the tree. He smiled. Crying was a good sign. Maybe she was ready to make a few decisions about her life. -- lfa@dartmouth.edu |I guess that's why Chief of Design - JourneyGarb |they call this the blues... Special Education - Norwich, VT |Time on my hands Instructor - University System of NH |could be time spent with you MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ...sage : reflections and history Date: 6 May 1993 03:43:21 GMT Message-ID: <1sa1gp$683@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: archives ..sage sat in the Dragons Inn, sipping a White Russian and pondering the events that had occured recently. Having survived the assault by Great Mother beneath the Low City of Generica - he recovered in the pocket-plane Sanctuary, and the environment there shaped itself to look like the basement of his beloved Library. Not that the Library was his, nor even the Basement, but he was responsible for the lowest levels and he did feel it was a part of him, closer in nature than that of the drow race of which he had belonged. He knew not what his past held, nor why he could not grasp the answers to his history that must somewhere, somehow, still be locked in the farthest recesses of his mind. He had left Sanctuary and met up with the morose priest Father Lucas, and had cajoled him into coming to Luthor and Serene's party, where they parted company. ..sage had found more questions there than distractions, as first he had met a vampire that had looked long and hard at him, and who seemed to strike in him some chord of recognition, and then a request for a meeting from a female traveller, Jameson W Walker - another seeker of answers, like himself. Back at the Inn the mysterious Jameson Walker hadn't showed, which gave ...sage time to ponder the events that had occured. While he had healed in Sanctuary he recalled that he had found a dusty old tome in the Basement (or the copy of it that Sanctuary had made), and that within the tome there was a story. A story about a light elf in a race of dark elves. Maybe the cloud in his mind, that had prevented him from recognizing the story's significance while in the prime dimension, had been temporarily held at bay in Sanctuary, enabling him to grasp the memory from his subconscious. ..sage closed his blank eyes and telepathically talked to his servant, busy dusting within the bowels of the Library's basement. "Bring me item #4832.895 9999929" A small bell rang and the pouch hanging from ...sage's belt bulged ever so slightly. Reaching in he pulled out a book with a web motif on the cover. A cover cracking with age and lined with dark-elven steel. Trembling hands opened it and flicking past a few chapters of ancient drow history, from the drow viewpoint, he found the chapter he was after. -=-=- Society developed and many grew jealous of the power wielded by the Matrons of the Families, but afore said malcontents could organize themselves into some semblance of resistance, they were rooted from their hiding holes and their spirits were redeemed for the glory of Lloth beneath the sacrificial knives of officiating priestesses. Thereupon started a glorious time. A golden age of advancement and peace under the watchful eye of Lloth, our sacred Queen of the Spiders. Our technology and magical knowledge increased tenfold and our cities arose in splendid beauty, in huge caverns nestled in the womb of the earth. Slowly our forces were built up, in preparation of the day when we would sally forth and smite our treacherous cousins on the surface, who had driven us from the sunlit lands. To eradicate their memory from the face of the planet and to raise Lloth as Queen over all races, with the drow her chosen people, and install her priests as her handmaidens, this was our aim. Thus it continued for a thousand years, as the day when we would strike loomed closer and only decades separated us from achieving our ambitions, when tragedy struck. It was after a particulary successful raid of the surface, when many light-elven communities went down before the might of our soldiers that one of our Matrons fell pregnant. Lloth had commanded that none of her people should ever mix blood and produce offspring with a surface elf, and yet the practise of raping the inhabitants of the village as well as killing and enslaving them, was widely tolerated, since ways existed to terminate unwanted pregnancies and - especially those that would result in deformed babes, an abomination in the eyes of our Goddess, as such are not even fit to grace the sacrificial block nor be fed to her driders. This one was kept secret though, and the child was born and hidden from all others. Sickly white he was, and eyes of the deepest green, not red like normal drow, nor the pink that often goes with albinism, so green in fact that it hurt the crimson eyes of his mother. She gave the child to a handmaiden and bid her get rid of the thing, so deeply did she regret its birth, but the handmaiden schemed to use the child against the Matron and thus take her place as head of the family, so did she not do as she was commanded, but took the child away and had it reared apart from other drow children, hidden even from the eyes of the Spider Queen. In time the child grew and he survived the dangers of his formative years and lo, he became mighty with the blade and skilled in the ways of the theif. Many times he would question his foster parents of his true origins, and many times they would direct his questions to other matters, teaching him to focus instead on matters of skill and ability, not things better left still in time. After many years, this albino miscreant tried to lead a revolution against the ruling Matrons of his community. Needless to say, the revolt was firmly crushed, yet the leader himself was not caught for many more years. Over that time he managed to so severely sabotage the plans of the drow for their surface conquest that even to this day we are no closer to fulfilling our great destiny. As to why the albino turned against his kind - we don't know, though we suspect that the answers must lie somewhere. His name was stricken from all Drow records that no rebels might revere him and no summoning of his spirit might be done. And his fate? As far as we can ascertain, he was blinded and broken before the feet of the High Priestess, and an avatar of Lloth herself took the traitor and reversed his age till he was a helpless babe, then flung him far into the future intending that he would grow up in a drow dominated world, and would therefore learn to revere her properly, or should the drow not yet have won their place as overlords of all races, that he should learn our laws and way of life in the proper way, that he might be her agent in bringing about our domination of the surface. A thousand years more have passed and we have not recaptured our former glory. We, the drow are still held in check beneath the earth while our traiterous kin still dwell on the surface. Yet we still look towards that day when our victory shall come and we climb from the depths as rulers. Thus - to all drow who read these words - be on the lookout for an albino of our kind, as he has the potential to both save us and destroy us. -=-=- ..sage closed the book, staring blankly into nothingness and saw the cloud in his mind part and then close again. But he had had a glimpse, a fleeting glance of a faraway time, of battles beneath the earth, of faces and forms, and finally the image of Lolth - who was Lloth to the drow - before his mind had mercifully run from its form. The book had been written over 2 thousand years previous, and if ...sage *was* the one fortold, then he had lived a lifetime before this one, and it had been over three thousand years ago. A shiver ran down his back and he took a swig of his White Russian. Maybe he didn't really want to chase up his past after all. ---- NAH! ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kring@efes.physik.uni-kl.de (Thomas Kettenring) Subject: Bakr: After the Rat Quest Message-ID: <1993May6.032900.27471@rhrk.uni-kl.de> Date: Thu, 6 May 1993 03:29:00 GMT ADMIN: Bakr has recently been grilled by a fireball, broke two ribs falling to the floor with a burnt hammock, and almost drowned in diluted sewage, but he has not been bitten by a giant rat. Characters used: Bakr; some merchants; introducing Elron, Fathi, and Kavedge Characters mentioned: Higar, Firgun, Git, Felchek, Brycur, Luthor, Ilmater; introducing Tollajee After saying goodbye to his companions, Bakr left Glorshanned Keep, aching and limping. The city was in really bad shape, too, after the storm, and the temples were full of wounded people. When he reached the temple area south of the Plaza - he had to walk the whole Arcade of Fountains and a good part of the Arcade of Unforgotten Heroes - his pains had gotten so bad that he felt he couldn't wait any longer for healing, so he entered one lesser populated temple that looked more exclusive than the others. On the door was a sign made out of several crossed bars, and over the door there was an inscription: "Make money. Make others make money." Inside he found a queue of rich-and-wet-looking merchants that had mostly minor bruises and sniffed at him. Two female acolytes gave him looks that could turn undead and make them wipe the remains of their feet at the shoe scraper. A moment later they were already hurrying in his direction and clearly intended to remove him. That was when he lost his temper. "I NEED HELP! AND MY MONEY IS AS GOOD AS EVERYBODY ELSE'S!" He threw some gold coins on the floor while shouting at the acolytes. That seemed to impress them as much as the fact that he directed his Wand of Nosebleed at them. An older priest appeared from some back door. He looked at the coins, then at Bakr, the acolytes, and the merchants. Then he beamed at the scorched mage and said, "Welcome to the temple of Tollajee. I am Elron, the High Priest. Please come over here, I will take you first." Bakr was surprised and embarrassed, and he put his wand away. Elron led him to a table in the back room, careful not to touch him, and motioned him to lay down on it. The mage laid down, Elron looked in his eyes and waved his arms, and Bakr fell asleep. "Miss Kavedge, you'll bring the table with this stinking brute to the Temple of Ilmater. Miss Fathi will help you. Then you clean the table and bring it back." Applauded by the merchants, the two acolytes moved the table, which had wheels, out of the temple. Elron grinned broadly, collected the coins Bakr had thrown on the floor, and asked, "Now who is next?" ------ Much later, Bakr left the temple of Ilmater. He still stank, but he felt good. It had been easy to conclude what had happened, but he had no ill feelings towards the Tollajee priests. After all, he had been spared pain. Elron seemed to have chosen the only viable way, not annoying the adventurer nor the merchants. Now where to go? Before he left Nexus - he would use the World Gate he had heard of, instead of continuing to wait for the "tall person in a cloak" in the Dragons Inn the Oracle had told him about - he'd have to say goodbye to his friends. Higar, Firgun, and Git he had just seen. He'd visit Felchek, whose lab was close by, then look for Brycur in the Low City, then go to the Inn and try to find Luthor... -- thomas kettenring, 3 dan, kaiserslautern, germany The extraterrestrials don't even know this planet has native inhabitants. Their government doesn't tell them. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: mreinker@nyx.cs.du.edu (matthew Reinker) Subject: Re: [blade] Max meets the boys Message-ID: <1993May6.074358.26797@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> References: Date: Thu, 6 May 93 07:43:58 GMT In article tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir-the-Love-Stricken-and-happy) writes: > > > Max climbed back out and ran over towards the location. It was a >couple of streets away, an easy run. > > He stopped. There was an Old Man staring in disbelief as the >half-rabbit guy bounded away. > > Max went after him. > "Hey, friend, where'd the rest of 'em get to ?", he called to the >half rabbit. Gortok stood under a street lamp that had, by some miracle, not been put out by the storm that raged around him. He poured over the index of his instruction manual. "Mud n Rubble," He muttered. "Some Axe, all these abilities and it can't control the weather. It wouldn't be so bad if it could only make me dinner, or even a beer." But alas, even that was beyond the silver weapon. Still, he could dice onions with it. The Axe blade began to pulse lightly. "Tyrone's near, eh Axe? Tunnel snakes, I'm talking to it. I must be mad." THe Undwarf put the manual into his pack and started to move down an alley. It was a strange book the wizards had given him. The pages were made of some magic substance that protected it from water. The book was almost as indestructible as the axe. Plastic, the wizards had called it. He proceeded down a dark alley when a white form ran passed the end, followed closely by another silvery form. Gortok broke into a run. At the end of the alley, he spotted Tyrone talking to the strange wizard/warrior...was his name Mack? He headed to join them. "Hey Tyrone! Can your sword make good Ale? I need a drink." Gortok the Undwarf -- "Pathetic victims of arrested development! * mreinker@nyx.cs.du.edu Prepare to hear the VOICE of REASON!!!!" * (Matt Reinker) ~~~~The Chainsaw Vigilante~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I have no idea where these opinions came from. It's not my fault!!! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: alden@coos.dartmouth.edu (Laurie F. Alden) Subject: [L&S] Awakenings 2 Message-ID: Date: Thu, 6 May 1993 11:05:57 GMT [ADMIN: by all of us, natch] Her hard-earned tears had dried on her cheeks and the ancient tree cradled her now as she slept. The sun crept across the afternoon. She stretched and cleared her eyes. "Trina", the Captain called, "Come, it is time for you to learn the rudiments of fighting." Trina quickly wiped her eyes and turned to the man who had first found her in the ShadeHaven household. "No, I don't like fighting." "Neither do I, but it is a fact of life. I require everyone here to to have some fighting skill. You need to be able to defend yourself." "I can run." Her knees were pulled tightly into her chest, her hands began to clench the tree's solidness. "Not far enough and not long enough. Clear paths have a way of becoming box canyons and blind alleys. I am not asking you become an Amazon. Just that you know how to take care of yourself. That way I won't worry so much." When she saw the small smile on the Captain's face, Trina relented and moved across the lawn. "All right, so long as I'm not an Am'zon. What should I do?" "Here, take my short sword. Sgt. Alketus will spar with you while I give you pointers." Trina stopped and stared at the heavily muscled Alketus. "Don't worry," said the Captain, seeing the fear in her eyes, "he won't hurt you. He is much better at short sword than I am, so you will learn better from sparring with him than you could from me. Here, hold it like this." "Wouldn't a knife be a better choice Captain?" asked Luthor, lifting his attention from tender shoots. "Not until she has the basics of form from the short sword. A knife is a delicate and subtle weapon, easier to misuse than to use. Too many have taken up the knife and never been any good at anything forever after. Most of the rest have died." Trina gingerly took the weapon in her hand. It was heavy and the hilt was wet with sweat. It didn't feel right. She tried to wave the blade towards the Sargent. "No, here, your wrist is too loose. Grasp it firm, and move it to respond to Alketus." It felt no better. The Sargent lightly swung his blade towards the girl a few times. She tried to block him, but missed wildly. "Think of it as an extension of your arm, not as a dirty stick." That helped. On the Sargent's next swing, their blades connected, and Trina's went flying out of her hand. "Much better." After a few minutes, she was able to routinely block Alketus's lazy swipes. Maybe he was too easy, but her mind started to wander. "What is an Am'zon?" "Am-a-zon," corrected the Captain. "They are a race of all-female warriors from the East of my world. They are skilled at all forms of fighting, but they are best at sword-play and archery. Their best archers are able to remove their left breast so it doesn't get in the way." Trina's jaw and guard dropped as she flushed. The Sargent's blade sent hers spinning across the lawn again. "You're making fun of me!" she shouted. "No he is not, Little One," came the Sargent's deep voice. "I have served with them; they are as my Captain says. Now pick up your blade, you were just starting to get the feel of it." She stamped across the lawn as well as her small frame allowed her to. Now they were both making fun of her. When she picked up the sword, the name he used for her registered. No one had called her Little One since childhood. With tears in her eyes, she lunged towards the Sargent. Her sudden sloppy attack caught him off guard. She drew blood twice before he was able to set up an adequate defense. Her fury and energy were expended as quickly as they came on. Trina threw down the blade and ran to the tree. "You liked it when your mother and brothers called you 'Little One'," whispered her friend. The captain began to approach, but slowed at Serene's gesture. The woman seemed to be watching Trina very intently. "I know that she needs to return to the task which upset her, Captain," she whispered, "I trust your training implicitly. But I think perhaps that's her 'safe corner'..." She handed the baby to the warrior and softly moved to Luthor's side. With a handful of infant, the captain sighed and waited for the girl to return to him. -- lfa@dartmouth.edu |I guess that's why Chief of Design - JourneyGarb |they call this the blues... Special Education - Norwich, VT |Time on my hands Instructor - University System of NH |could be time spent with you MagicHutchHeader Date: Wednesday, 5 May 1993 23:22:18 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93125.232218344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBd] From the shadows comes a shroud [ADMIN: Watch as I try to connect stuff from Stilt Man, Joe Carl Jr. and myself! Voila, I hope...] As they left Kadrys to be alone again, Darvos glanced at Lancos questioningly. "I thought you said Kadrys was interested in vampires." "Yes, and I was correct." the warrior replied. He was somewhat taken aback at the vampire's dismissal of the subject. It wasn't as if Kadrys didn't have tons of time ahead of him. But he refused to even suggest the truth, if Kadrys wanted to hide it. "I guess he's just secretive about his life. I suppose I would be too, in his situation." Darvos gave Lancos a strange look of inquiry but said "I can certainly respect someone's privacy." Shrugging his slender shoulders he continued with a smile "Besides, we have other pressing matters to deal with. For example, acquiring some lunch and returning Lissa to our home for some well-deserved rest." They hailed a waitress, and despite the busy atmosphere, it wasn't long before one approached. The adults ordered, Darvos caring after Lissa's needs, and Lancos after Bast's. After the waitress left with their orders, a voice from behind them caught their attention. "Excuse me," it said in sharp resounding tones. The group turned around to see what looked like a man of average size and shape. But that -- rather subjective, and possibly incorrect -- information was all they could really determine, as most of the features were hidden behind a shrouding cloak. "May I be of assistance?" Darvos narrowed his eyes in suspicion and watched the individual carefully. Lancos gave a smile, both at the possibility of help, and its source. "Sure, Shrouded One." Kryalla kept what little surprise she felt internal. "You know of me?" Darvos looked to Lancos with a bit of his own surprise. "It seems he knows a great many people." "I know of _her_." Lancos said to answer both statements. "I know Kryalla's been around Generica for longer than even I. There's a few rumors about, one even saying that she was in the Dragon's Inn before there were so many dark corners in the place." The Shrouded One's gaze wandered a moment, but as soon as the fact registered in Lancos' mind, he was again alone in her scrutiny. He thought he saw a ghost of a smile drift across her lips. "Rumors of you also abound, Lancos." The warrior dismissed his shock in favor of changing the subject. "That's not important, unless it deals with my newest companions, Darvos Mantar and Lissa, or my tag-along Bast." Darvos stood up and greeted Kryalla formally. He said with a bow "A pleasure to meet you maam. Cry-ell-ah may I introduce you to my ward Lissa." Darvos swung his arm towards Lissa, who was still sitting in her chair. Darvos furrowed his brow in disapproval, and she quickly stood up and greeted Kryalla too, But she was much more hesitant, being a bit scared of the shrouds the person was wearing. Darvos smiled in apology and said "We've had a rough few days lately, and probably should head home for some rest soon." Meanwhile, while all this went on, Lancos' cat seemed interested in nothing as much as giving herself a bit of a bath. After the greetings were complete, Lancos continued "Now, what about your offer of help?" Kryalla nodded, reading by his earlier reaction that he didn't want to hear about his part from others. "Indeed," she said, gesturing to her table. " Come and share your tale." They agreed, followed her to the table, and sat down. Lancos observed the surroundings: he had never been in a corner table of the Dragon's Inn, and wanted to see what made it seemingly so attractive. Not much, as far as he could tell, save a painting that hung on the wall. It was of a beautiful seaside setting, with the sun's reflections and shadows on the water well represented, signed by someone named "Kaalzic". A group of symbols followed the signature, no doubt meaning something in a language he didn't know. Lancos was just finishing his appreciation of the picture when the food arrived. In addition to what they had ordered, the tray contained a drink for Kryalla. Thet was one thing you could say about the Dragon's Inn: they adapted and trained well to meet their customers' needs. Lancos put the meal on his tab after some resistance from Darvos. But the warrior dismissed his worry, saying that he'd always have enough money to be at least comfortable. "I shall pick up the bill next time though." Darvos' last words were, though no sour emotion flowed through them. Lancos took a deep breath, and began to speak: "The adventure began rather ordinarily, at least for me. I was travelling through Low City on the advice of a seer named Enn Piecy. It was there that I found and resuced Bast here. After feeding her, she decided to hang near me. Though that is not at important as the next event, when I heard a scream from nearby. "I ran towards it, and used it and other means to track the source. Eventually I came upon the Little Rat, who was being threatend by a child murderer named the Gutt Man, and helped her to save herself. Soon after, Darvos came by. After a brief instance of mistaken identity, Darvos was reunited with Lissa, who had apparently gone to Low City to share some of her wealth, before Gutt Man attacked her. "We had planned to take Gutt Man to jail, but somehow he woke up. And furthermore, surprised us with a heretofore unseen speed and resistance in capturing Lissa and taking her off somewhere. "Of course we followed, although we had to deal with adversity along the way. Our first obstacle was the driving rain that prevented part of our tracking, though did not stop us. The second was the amulet that Darvos had been using to determine Lissa's location being misplaced. "It was picked up rather accidently by a woman. She had darker skin and curly hair, and wore a seven pointed star that had three trees -- made of silver, by my guess -- on it besides Darvos' adornment. "Anyway, we soon picked up the trail again, and found Gutt Man at a store. And not alone, either, since with him there was a magician that was doing something to Lissa. We didn't tolerate the situation long enough to figure out exactly what, instead intent on rescue. We saved Lissa, but the foes disappeared, using some form of teleportation. "And so, we decided to drop off the Little Rat at a friend of mine, for her safety from that sort of magic, as well as other mutual benefits. Now we've come here to look for help in stopping Gutt Man, and whoever may be assisting him, before they can do any further damage." Kryalla nodded, her ebon eyes as unreadable as ever. "I will assist you." "Great." Lancos exclaimed. "If I ... we can return the favor in the future, just let me know." "So noted." the Shrouded One replied. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir-the-Love-Stricken-and-happy) Subject: [Sorc] In search of security Message-ID: Date: Thu, 6 May 1993 12:32:13 GMT "Saoirse, please, where are we going?", asked the panting Talon. They had just run through many buildings and barely avoided magical blasts of varuious descriptions. Saoirse looked worn herself, but wasn't saying anything. 'Talon, we have to reach the central Research Complex and find out what's going wrong.' Her mental signals went straight past his ears. "I see ", he said, looking at her," what is to be found there, then?" 'Jarakh, the Chief Justice and Ponticar', she thought, then moved on. Talon knew what she meant. The Chief Justice and Ponticar equated to the Generican Archmage of Security, only he had a whole city of mages to deal with. The Ponticars were a special order, like Police, within the city, to keep the peace. He also remebered Jarakh, though Jarakh had not been a Council member when Talon was last here. The pair moved through the alleyways, keeping away from the main streets. Magira didn't have too many alleyways, though. Naturally, their strongest wards and Saoirse's Parma Magica were protecting them a great deal from oncoming spells. They reached the end of an alleyway. The sky still rained with bolts and occasional magical creatures being sent anywhich way, but soon getting shot down. Saoirse pointed over a low wall. 'Do you see that building, the tall one with the golden spires?' "Yes ", Talon knew the Academy of Research. 'Well, the only way I can think of getting in there is through the sewers. It is probable that many guard creatures will be set to keep intruders out.' A nearby explosion of a deflected magical bolt caused them to duck. "Bloody maniacs" swore Talon softly to himself. Saoirse didn't read his lips and thus didn't hear what he said. She was busy casting a spell. Talon knew better than to interrupt as she quickly gathered magic power into herself with gestures and concentration. She didn't make a sound. Suddenly, her spell came to it's climax faster than Talon would have expected. She quickly shrunk and grew little paws and fur. She was a mouse, and got up on her haunches, waiting for the Ambassador to do the same. Talon followed suit, polymorphing himself down to the same size, and Saoirse moved off towards one of the smaller pipes. 'With luck, we will not be detected by the sentries amid all the confusion outside' she communicated to him, and crawled into the pipe. It was inky black, but Talon found that he could smell his way, and see his way also. It was disconcerting to do so, but he managed it well, enough. Saoirse led him through the sewer pipes and up into the building. There was a hell of a racket outside and the noise reverberated through the pipes. Saoirse was rapidly thinking to herself. Jarakh should be a safe person to get through to. He was a reasonable man, but this was a city where reason appeared to have simply blown away in the wind. What had happened to cause her fellows to fight so much and so hard? There had to be something of a more sinister nature going on here. She thought of where her old friends were, and what side they were on now. Gods above, were there even sides to this or was every mage just attacking each other in some sick parody of a gladiator match. The last one alive wins the prize or something equally horrid? They arrived at an intersection. Saoirse looked left and right, deciding that the left turn was probably the best bet to take. She moved off without a word, reaching a break in the pipe. It had fallen through the ceiling in a laboratory, and they arrived on a desk. The lab was dark, but that was soon solved as Saoirse changed back and took a simple charm for light out of her robe pockets. The light was dim, but enough. "Where are we?", asked the now-human Talon. 'I think this is one of the apprentice labs' she commented thoughtfully. The Lab was a wreck, but had maany desks and a blackboard up the top of the room. There were also several diagrams over the walls of fundamental theories and so forth. 'Jarakh's personal lab is about two floors up from here', she said and walked out the door into the main corridor. There were many crystal spheres along each wall, all for the purpose of lighting the area. They were all fluctuating in power, like bulbs being turned on and off. "I can see that there is quite a drain on the energies in this place. Seems that this battle is taking quite a toll on your city's reserves" 'I know. I wonder how long it will take before the winter starts to creep back into the city' They moved up the stairs, on guard for all manner of attacks. Then they came to the appropriate floor. Down the end of the main corridor stood a large door with a heavy sigil inscribed upon it. There were three mages standing outside, looking at the two of them. Their robes were all a deep blue in colour, indicating them to be of the Order of Ponticar. "Stay right where you are!!" called one of them harshly. All three looked positively dangerous. They were looking tired, drawn even. Saoirse and Talon stood stock still and didn't move. "Identify yourselves", they called. Saoirse went to use her throught communication spell. Suddenly, one of the Ponticars lashed out at the spell with a counter-spell of greater power. Saoirse's wards reeled from the attack, and some of the enerrgy broke through her Parma even, strinking her in the chest. She was blown back against the wall. Her mouth opened in a silent scream. Talon immediately went over to check her and cast a shield over the pair of them. "Stand back!" ordered the Ponticar, but Talon didn't move. She was dazed and some of her clothes singed, but didn't appear to be too seriously hurt. "Stand back or we'll have to take action" barked the Ponticar. Talon did so. He was a bit shaken by the ferocity of the Ponticar's attack. "Any other tricks like that and I wouldn't want to be you. Now, identify yourselves sharpish" Talon cleared his throat,and quite calmly said, "I am Talon, former Ambassador to Magira from the Generican Guild. This is Scholar Saoirse, the DEAF." that last word was said viciously. One of the Ponticars looked at the leader, "Arak, you twit. You've just blown away one of the CJ's best friends!!" "Shut up, Kalis" "But you've-" "Kalis , shut up. We're at war now" "We have come ", Talon resumed, "to meet with the Chief Justice and find out what the hell is going ON here." "Stay your paces. Kalis, get inside and tell Jarakh that we have two suspects outside named Saoirse and Talon." Kalis looked a bit worried and vanished. "Meanwhile, drop your wards and submit to a holding spell or suffer the consequences." "Are you crazy, sir? In this climate you want me to drop my wards??" "Do it or you're dead meat, got it pal?" Arak was looking definitely vicious, his partner was looking at Arak. "Arak, I think they're alright", he said quietly. "Jemmon, I didn't ask your opinion." Talon dropped his wards carefully, and waited. Arak quickly threw binding magics around him. Talon knew the sort of magic being employed. This Arak was strong, but young. They waited, and Kalis reappeared. Saoirse regained her senses and found herself bound and defenseless. She looked at Talon, who was calmly waiting for the appearance of whomever. Kalis whispered something in Arak's ear. "You sure, Kalis?" Kalis just nodded. Arak then cast a second spell, binding them even more. It was actually beginning to hurt them, it was that forceful. Neither Saoirse nor Talon could move, and they both felt like there was a lot of pressure all over their bodies. Talon couldn't even speak. Then, Jemmon cast a spell and they were teleported to the central lab behind the door. There was a tall, middle aged man standing , lost in concentration. Jemmon waited, and this tall man came out of his reverie. His face looked saddened. "Chief Justice Jarakh, these are the prisoners ", said Jemmon in short, clipped tones. "Have you run positive ID check?" "No sir, we haven't got relevant comparable data to check" Jemmon responded a little embarassed. "I see." Jarakh weaved his hands, chanting words over the pair of them, then he looked into Saoirse's eyes. She was helpless as he entered her mind with the equivalent of steel-toed hobnail boots, and walked all over it, turning up memories. The spell involved was quite a grueling and brutal search spell. It was rarely used owing to the very painful effects that it had on the human mind. She mentally reeled in pain, but could not even think about stopping it. Jarakh was suddenly himself again. Saoirse, still motionless, had flushed skin and appeared tense. He immediately released the binding spell and she collapsed to the ground holding her head and crying silently. Her head was splitting with pain. She looked up with tear-filled but savage eyes at Jarakh. "Saoirse, I am truly sorry. What else could I do? These are dangerous times and we had to be sure." Sniffling and getting up on unsteady feet, leaning against Talon for support she just looked at him. Her thought spells would cause too much pain, so she reverted to sign language. She knew that Jarakh could read sign quite adeptly. Gesturing in short, sharp motions she was quick and to the point. "What the hell is going on here, Jarakh?" "It's very complex. Please, sit down, I'll get you something for the pain-" "No, tell me. The short version." "Very well. As you know, there is war in the city at the moment. It is between two diffrent sides, though I am on neither. I remain neutral. The Masters of Theology and Planar Contacts are against the remining six of the Council, it would seem -" "Laerean and G'phalath? They couldn't stand up to the power of the others, surely" "Ah yes, very true. But, there is something behind them, giving them extra support. It would seem that the two Masters have gone quite mad in their obsessions or some such." "Possibly Infernal aid? Jarakh, you know how strong our defenses against that type are" "Exactly. They are using something else entirely. I habe not joined either side as yet until I find out the full truth behind it all." "Oh for gods' sakes, Jarakh, the six need support, that much is obvious. We need to get all the best mages on their side against these two Ex-Masters. Where are Lagaric, Daemel and Darmal?" "Lagaric fell a short time ago. Daemel fights with the Six. Darmal? who is Darmal?" "He's a potent mage who arrived about a year ago from the Generican Guild. Said he needed to study in a better place. He was accepted after all the standard tests." "From the Generican Guild you say?" At this point, Talon interjected. "Whom are we talking about?" "Darmal ", said Jarakh back to him " he is an ex-Generican mage apparently." "What department?" Saoirse looked at him, and signed to Jarakh who related it back to Talon. "Politics I believe, or so says the Lady." Talon looked at him. "That, sir, is about as likely as fish going rock-climbing. I have worked in the Politics Department for twenty odd years now. There has never been a Darmal in our Guild." Both Saoirse and Jarakh looked at him. "I think we may have something, Talon", said Jarakh. The Ponticar took out a vial. "drink this, Saoirse. It will ease the pain." She took it gratefully. "Now ", said Jarakh," it would appear we may have a spy to catch" -- 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 MagicHutchHeader From: dshaffer@andromeda.rutgers.edu (Donald A Shaffer) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [blade] Meshtak makes peace with his Gods Message-ID: Date: 6 May 93 14:10:59 GMT References: <1993May5.013218.27116@cheshire.oxy.edu> Chip followed Meshtak out the hole... >Meshtak dropped the prone body of Arcadio. He was hearing voices >emerging from the temple of Joyla, and decided he might as well go >... deleted >and Chaos. Whatever, he entered the temple. Chip' followes Meshtak into the temple, it wasnt a temple of his Great Mother Queen, but his pack (what was left of them, had entered) > The place was crowded with refuges, most huddled on benches. A long >line of people stretched from the request circles, where followers of >Joyla made special requests of her. Chip'clicked his mandibles in amazement. Relativeley crowded in here, maybe temples arent as different for species as he had though it would. Always when trouble comes... > A man walked up. "Refuge or requester?" he asked briskly. > Meshtak lifted his cloak. "Refuge, I guess." he said. "At least >until the rain stops." > The man gaped. "What form of creature are you?" he asked. "Demon?" CHip' made sure he kept his arm on a weapon, he, didnt like the tone of voice of the priest(?). > "Draga. I come in peace." Meshtak lifted his hands to show he "You 'ean this thing you dro!'ed in the cavernss?" He held an item in his hand (ADMIN: whether it is or not depends on whether you do or do not want to go back into the sewers) > Meshtak could see that the priests were struggling to cover the >windows with heavy planks of wood. "Aw, what the grot." he said. "Might >as well be useful." He walked over, and started to assist them. Chip' stood by the prone body of Arcadio to proect it from the others. (They might want to eat him in his condition...:) Don Shaffer Aka Chip'Chirip dshaffer@andromeda.rutgers.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kring@efes.physik.uni-kl.de (Thomas Kettenring) Subject: [inn] What Kloote did all that time Message-ID: <1993May6.232427.26822@rhrk.uni-kl.de> Date: Thu, 6 May 1993 23:24:27 GMT ADMIN: Sorry but I had neither ideas nor much time for Kloote. I still haven't but I'll try anyway. For the benefit of those who didn't read about the earlier developments, here is a short summary: Some days ago, Lifilis Kloote caused the chagrin of one of the fellows in the dark corners, which happened to be Guildmaster Gwaliostrok, Archmage Rivy's second-in-charge, who supplied the conjurer with lots of forms to fill in order to practice as a conjurer in Generica. Earlier, Medor the Night Lizard (those creatures are filling the ecological niche of familiars; look into the Bestiary for further details) had decided to adopt Kloote, who first struggled, then resigned to his fate. Characters used: Kloote, Medor, Wyeriun, Gwaliostrok, Sheryl (thanks to Chris Meadows, who acknowledged this) Characters mentioned, some of them not by name: Denriqa, Kaalzic, Kardia, Shargugh, Enn Piecy, 'Raelf, Lancos, Little Rat, Andrea, Aitreni Impatiently, Medor sat on the table of his new wizard. He didn't do wizardly things anymore. He went to his room to sleep, he went out and talked to people, he sat in the inn and ate, as he did now. But he didn't let people disappear as before. Kloote had been pulling strings. He had consulted the Wyeriun, whose life he had earlier saved, about the forms he had to fill for the Mage Guild, and the Sea Mage had laughed and informed him that the so-called Guildmaster was not at all the head of the Guild. With the Wyeriun's help the conjurer had managed to make Gwaliostrok accept his application in spite of formal errors, and he was now a member of the Mage Guild. The next step was getting a house. The clerk at the Office of Public Real Estate had proposed several objects, but Kloote hadn't liked any of them. He had used his connections - the Wyeriun really turned out to be a useful person - and finally a building close to the Royal Palace was found. The former inhabitant, a rich merchant's widow, was leaving Nexus because their astrologer had moved away and given her the advice to do the same. Kloote had driven a hard bargain and got the house for a ridiculous price. Afterwards he had wondered for a long time about the force of that woman's superstition. Until the widow was finished moving out, the conjurer lived in the Dragons Inn. Still, most of the patrons were not up to his standard, and his nostrils were high in the air most of the time. A new picture was put on the wall, made by Kaalzic, and he didn't like the style at all. He further disapproved of the female with the crippled foot, the brownie, the under age seer, and several others, some of which he had disapproved before, such as 'Raelf, Lancos, and especially Little Rat. The only creature he didn't look down upon was the unicorn that frequented Littlefair's pub. Sheryl was the most beautiful thing he remembered having ever seen, and he unobtrusively made some drawings of her. He didn't intend to use the pictures for conjuring her, he just *had* to make them. He stopped that activity when she came back with a braided mane that spoilt her natural beauty. From then on he resented the unknown person who had done that. Of course he didn't think that the black-clad female that accompanied the unicorn was an appropriate attendant... Kloote's house was badly damaged in the big storm. The repairs cost him far more than the house had, and his reserves shrank considerably. It would soon be necessary to start his conjurer business, so he sat in the Inn and made plans. -- Lifilis Kloote, conjurer and artist aka Thomas Kettenring MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [AU] Raykor's Curse Date: Thu, 06 May 93 18:04:35 CDT Message-ID: <16BC6FE34.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu> Keywords: [AU] Andrea Sheryl Raykor Kardia Enn Piecy ADMIN: "What are we going to do now that--Hey, wait, why am I back in quotes?" Because I'm back in control, that's why. "Chris!" >Whinny!< >Snort!< "We didn't know you were back!" It appears you've written yourselves into a corner. "Uh, yeah..." >footshuffle< I suppose you'll want me to get you out of this jam you've found yourselves in now, huh? "You'll do that?" >Nicker?< Yep. But I want certain conditions to be met first. "Uh...like what?" Like no more putting me in the hospital because you don't like the way I'm writing you. I have to admit, that was a cute nurse, though...I want you to stand behind me, and not so you can stab me in the back either. "Uh...okay." I want your word. "You'd trust the word of a thief?" I wrote you, I know you inside and out. Once you give your word, you usually keep it. Now promise. "All right, I promise. I suppose you want me to put my right hand on the Bible or something?" No...that's good enough. Okay. And if you have a gripe about the way I'm writing, you'll bring it to me, okay? "That's one thing you won't have to worry about." >Nicker!< Good. Now, let me look back over your past posts, see what I can do about getting you out of this jam. Let's see...hm...you certainly wrote Raykor back in in a hurry. "We wanted to find him and kill him, and we couldn't do that if he wasn't around, now could we?" Yeah, but...oh well...hmm, Enn Piecy's ring...Kardia's cursebreaking...meeting Azariah...Callus' revenge...Geez, when you write, you pull out all the stops. Well, okay. I think I can do something with it. Now stand back, and let me work. Ahem. Let's start this note all over again, now... ADMIN: Hi! This is Chris Meadows. I'm back again, after being...ahem, inconvenienced for awhile. Now that I'm back, I'm going to get this story in motion--I hope. Better see about getting rid of whatever Raykor thinks he's up to first... Raykor cackled and laughed maniacally as Andrea sank to her knees, the blue lightning crackling like Saint Elmo's Fire all around her. There was a gasp of horror from the open door from which Sheryl had emerged, as Kardia stepped out to view the horrible sight. It seemed that already Andrea's shape was twisting, reforming itself... ["Ahem, uh, Chris...?" Hey, stop reading over my shoulder before I write you into a newt or something!] "No!" Andrea screamed out, struggling to rise. "No, I won't let you! Not THIS time..." She staggered to her feet, her right arm raised above her head, hand clenched into a fist. And something on that fist was shining--it was the ring that Enn Piecy had given her a few days ago into the bar--it was giving off a silver light that was almost blinding! Sheryl nickered, and thrust her horn forward, into Andrea's left hand. It, too, began to glow, and the blue lighting lessened, stopping its dancing around Andrea and instead being sucked into the ring, and into Sheryl's horn. As the lightning died away, Andrea's shifting form reverted to its normal human shape. "What? No! It can't be, it just can't! My curse can't have fizzled--And you!" Raykor pointed at Sheryl. "The last traces of my magic are gone from you. But how--why--?" "Die, you foul wizard..." As one, Andrea and Sheryl pointed fist and horn at Raykor, and the selfsame lightning that he had cast blasted forth from them to engulf the evil archmage. "What--no! No! NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!" The wizard screamed hideously as the lightning engulfed him, and his figure shaded to black, then split apart and shrank into nothingness. The lightning then faded out as Raykor's scream reverberated down the corridor. A couple of doors down the corridor were flung open and various comments yelled out. "Hey, cantcha keep it down?! Some of us are trying to SLEEP in here..." Andrea sank to the floor, against the wall. She groaned. "Ooooh, I feel like I've just been put through a blender." Then she looked up at Sheryl, and blinked. It was odd, but it was as though the small 'corn were a good order of magnitude brighter than before, from her white coat to her bright blue eyes. "What--how? The curse--it's lifted?" Kardia nodded. "Yes," she said, her voice dry and scratchy from not having spoken in three days. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Yes, the curse is indeed lifted. And just in time, too, or so it would seem. Here, let me have a look at you." She knelt in front of Andrea to examine her. That had been a most powerful curse the mage had hit her with--she had seen more than just an amazing light show when Raykor had cast his spell--she had seen immense magical lines of force that people on her homeworld would never have dreamed possible. Even by the scale of this world (which she wasn't sure she had down completely yet) it seemed huge. Yet as she looked carefully over Andrea, she saw no trace of the enchantment whatsoever--no magic at all except that little bit common to the amateur student of magic, and the delicate tracery that had come from Andrea's close contact with and relation to the unicorn Sheryl. It was as though she had redirected the curse right back at Raykor, leaving none of it behind within herself. Yet there was something else, some difference that she couldn't quite grasp... "This is odd..." Kardia said, puzzled. "I can find no traces of the curse at all..." She glanced over at the unicorn, but Sheryl's own magic traceries, with which she had become intimately acquainted over the last three days, were also unaltered. "...on you, OR on Sheryl." "Well, good," Andrea managed. "That way I don't have to pay you another ten gold coins or so plus room and board for work on ME." It took Kardia a moment to realize that this was only a joke. I must be more tired than I thought, she told herself. "And yet there's something different about you..." Kardia contined. "I would advise having 'Raelf scan you both right away." She shook her head. "How could you have completely deflected the curse like that?" "It was this ring..." Andrea held up her right hand. "Enn Piecy gave it to...huh?" The ring had vanished--there was only a small, gradually-fading silver patch encircling her finger to show that it had ever been there. "It's gone--it's like it's just melted into my hand or something..." "Let me see..." Kardia took her hand, gazed at it. "There was an extremely fine tracery of magic lines around it...if she could just look a little closer...then her vision blurred, and she nearly ended up on the floor. "Whoa. I must REALLY be more tired than I thought. I have to get something to eat and get in bed right away." Then Kardia felt something touch her hand. She looked down--it was Sheryl's horn. And suddenly Kardia was wide awake again, temporarily revitalized by the magical energies that coursed through that horn. She knew that this would not last for long, however. "Thank you, Sheryl...now I feel half-human again. I'd better get some food in me before this wears off." "Thanks, Kardia...right now I'm just a little tired as well..." Andrea got unsteadily to her feet. Sheryl touched her once again with her horn. "Thanks, Sheryl," Andrea said, drawing strength from the touch. "Help me to my room, and I'll feel better in the morning..." Bemused, Kardia watched the two of them go. Her leg felt numb, and she realized she hadn't been exercising it enough. "Well, come on, then..." she spoke, enjoying the luxury of being able to speak aloud to herself for the first time in three days. "Let's go get something to eat..." In a dark corner of the corridor [Yes, there are so many dark corners in the inn's common room that a few of them have started overflowing into the corridors], a darkly-robed man, though not as ominous a man as that which had turned out to be Raykor, looked on. It was a pet peeve of his that he WASN'T more ominous...he TRIED to be ominous, it just never worked out that way somehow. It wasn't good for business. Ominous or not, Enn Piecy smiled beneath his hood as he watched them go. Being a seer was all well and good, but just because one predicted the future didn't mean that one couldn't take an active part in it. At least that was what HE believed--the oldsters probably had some other ideas, but they were too old to do anything anyway. Enn got a real kick out of doing someone some good once in a while... "I predict that your future is going to be very exciting..." Enn murmured to the departed Andrea and Sheryl. "And I predict that it's going to be very fun to watch it unfold." Then he retreated further back into the shadows, and disappeared. ADMIN: Okay, so how was that? "Chris...we'll never doubt you again." See that you don't. And try to keep out of my admin notes the next few entries, okay? Too much of this "breaking the fourth wall" and it's going to start turning our readers off. "Uh, right, Chris. In that case...goodbye for a while. Sheryl and I are going to go start packing for when you lose net access for a few weeks on the 14th and we have to go with you." Oh, yeah, that's right. I'd better mention this one more time. I have to go home for Summer Intercession this month, May 14th, and will be temporarily unavailable from then until early June. I hope to get in a few more posts between now and then, however. Anyway...from all of us here to all of you out there, thanks for reading! And there's more interesting stuff to come, very shortly! -- Chris Meadows || Andrea & Sheryl CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || [AU] thread, alt.pub.dragons-inn CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || -------------------------------- CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || A supporter of rec.arts.creative MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: alden@coos.dartmouth.edu (Laurie F. Alden) Subject: [L&S] Awakenings 3 Message-ID: Date: Thu, 6 May 1993 23:05:05 GMT Dinner came and passed. As had become their custom, the household repaired to the drawing room with a glass of wine or mineral water. There, they would speak of the day, news in Generica, the volatile South, the Specificas, of past travels, and missing friends. Usually, Trina was more of a listener than a speaker, but now she was unusually quiet and distracted. She slouched in her chair, looking around at the walls of the house and twisting her hair around her fingers. The conversation drifted to the warming weather. Since the violence of the Storm, none could predict the coming patterns. Did the humidity signify the coming Spring or just a break in winter's strangth? Sensing an opening, Luthor subtly steered the conversation. "I think I'll go talk to the Generican Druid. If the spring is coming, I'll look into buying a vinyard, or at least a plot of land so I can start my own. With the way Genericans enjoy their drink, I should be quite wealthy in no time at all. I've always wanted to have my own vineyard, since I was younger than Trina over there." Captain's thoughts turned to his own dreams. "I've never wanted anything much for myself. A roof over my head and a hot meal in my stomach would suffice. I'd be happy reading for now, but eventually, I would like to find the way home. Not that I am unthankful for this one, but I just feel out of place here. I always saw myself retiring as an old General and writing history books. I could do that now, but the history I would write wouldn't be of the Known Lands. It may as well be a work of fiction." "I would be happy to read it nonetheless. Perhaps the history of your land has a few lessons to teach." Luthor said, noting a hint of pride coming from Captain. "History always has lessons to teach. Its just that so few people listen." "I'm happy with the way things are now," Serene began. "As long as Mista is happy and healthy,and I can dance with her father, I am content. Journeys await me, of the body and of the heart... I'd like to go back to the islands for a while, show off the baby and dance with the others, but that can wait. How about you Trina?" "No, I don't want to go home, not yet." Trina's voice was soft and distant. Luthor gave Serene a worried look. "What's the matter Trina, don't..." Luthor began. She locked eyes with Luthor. Her dark eyes, holding secrets untold met his, as light and caring as a warm Summer's sky. "No, I'm not going home. It's safe here...in the Tree." "Anything you want Trina, our home is yours." They continued their talk for another half hour, but out of the corners of their eyes they carefully watched her. She was like a coiled serpent now; better to step lightly around it than risk a bite. Night draped her cloak around Generica. The captain retired to his books. Luthor climbed the stairs with thoughts of magery. At a soft knock he spoke, and Serene slipped inside. "Luthor, I'm concerned about Trina," she began. He nodded his understanding. "I've seen people doing some of the things she's doing. I... After my sister died, I spent several years in the islands - dancing, learning defense, and living in that community - you remember?" He nodded and tenderly drew her to sit at the windowseat. Her eyes were troubled and intent. She had told him about the community for the mad where she had lived and worked, and it distressed him to know that Trina reminded his friend of those folks who suffered so. "The first thing I think she needs is safety, Luthor. People need it above food and water. She moves like someone who doesn't have it. She watches like an animal who expects to be beaten, but doesn't know quite when..." Luthor kissed Serene's forehead. "Then we will do everything we can to allow her to allow herself to feel safe. I think we're a patient lot." He gently smiled. "Tell me, how did you gain so much wisdom in your few years?" Her laughter lit the corner of the room. "I'll be nineteen soon!" Their low murmuring flowed through the house, a soft current of comfort. Below, all was still. Trina sat unmoving, staring at the walls of the Tree. -- lfa@dartmouth.edu |Wuskies are furry; Chief of Design - JourneyGarb |Wuskies are fun; Special Education - Norwich, VT |Wuskies are happy Instructor - University System of NH |When scritched on the tum. MagicHutchHeader From: kjc@aramis.rutgers.edu (Kelly J. Cooper) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Bulletin Board Keywords: posted for ...sage Message-ID: Date: 6 May 93 01:48:51 GMT ADMIN: this is kindly being posted for me by Kelly as my news poster is being very uncooperative. Normal transmission will be resumed as soon as the problem has been rectified. ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NEW THIS WEEK: none -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OTHER ACTIVE POSTS: Posted by: Imports, Exports, and Arms (Jeremy Nelson, gujn@uniwa.edu.au) Content: WE apologize for any time distortions in the local area, however, due to testing of a device (Henceforward known as 'The Thing'), the local timestream has become dislocated. There is no danger, however some people may undergo slight disorientation. Some people may apparently find themselves in multiple locations at one time. We assure customers that this is not dangerous, and all time lines are in fact continuous, and will straighten themselves out in time. We recommend leaving early for any important appointments. Normal service will be restored tomorrow, yesterday, in three weeks' time, and in three hundred and thirty years. All complaints should be forwarded to: Imports, Exports, and Arms. We thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Moriarty (Aaron Humphrey, aaron@space.ualberta.ca) Content: |-------------------------------| | Moriarty Investigations, Inc. | | | | Magic and muscle at your | | service! No problem too large | | or small! Reasonable rates! | | | | 15A-Gamma Cor Caroli Lane | | Just off the Arcade of | | Unforgotten Heroes! | |-------------------------------| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Trawm (The Dreamer, asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Content: Attention all Real Men: If you is reading this then you is in the rong bar. Come to the Spitting Cobra were you can have a good time at a good prise. FITING ENKOURAGED. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Malthus Dela Noeuze (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Content: **************************************** ** Perfumerie Grand Veneur ** ** Is Seeking a Person To ** ** Find and Bring Back a Great ** ** Blooddrinker or Souleater ** ** For Perfumeric Substances ** ** All Contacts Considered ** ** ** ** Master Perfumerist Malthus ** ** Dela Noeuze ** **************************************** SPECIAL STATUS: Posted by: Zenith (Mike Bavister, mrhyde@netcom.com Content: ANNOUNCING THE A.P.D-I ARCHIVES I have been carefully recording all that has transpired here at the Inn and in Generica. I estimate that my archives are missing less than 1 in 100. The archives contain over 4600 chapters (articles) in 20 huge volumes (MB). Currently the archives are only indexed by Subject (Subject line), but my trusty scribes are hard at work attempting to compile a keyword-index by name, place, and "thread". Alas, this task may take a while. There are two methods by which you, the citizens of Generica, can access the archives (and their indexes). Via the Post-Office or by Magic. Via Mail: Send mail to the address below, with your request in the body of the message. I will then search the index(es) for you, and either mail you the matching "chapters" or a list of matches (if there are too many "hits"). Until the keyword index is compiled, I will be very reluctant to search the actual archives for your requests. TO: mrhyde@netcom.com. EXAMPLE: Dear Zenith, Please search your archives for all occurance of "Lancos" or "Zebron". Thanks. Via Magic: I have set aside a portion of my personal library for the Indexes and other materials of interest. If you know the powerful "FTP" spell, you can access the indexes directly. The arcane formula is listed below. This archive is "read-only", you may retrieve anything you like from it, but you can't place anything there. If there is something you'd like placed there for the benefit of all Generican citizens, let me know via mail. Do not forget to use "binary mode" for all not in ".txt" format. The FTP library currently contains: Subject indexes (no.1-no.3999) The Directory of Generica (latest edition) JourneyGarb flyer/catalog APDI FAQs (full and mini) And coming soon: The DragonQuest Saga *note* All ".zip" files are compressed using the latest state-of-the-art compression magic. Older uncompression magic may not work (use "zip19" or "pkzip2.04"). If you have any difficulty with either the transfer of files or decompression, please let me know. ftp netcom.com(192.100.81.100) login: anonymous password: (your e-mail address) cd /pub/mrhyde/APDI Cheers and happy reading ____ / __ __ o _|_ | / |__| | | | | |__ /___ |__ | | | |_/ | | Head Librarian of the Great Library of Generica -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- REMOVED THIS WEEK : Posted by: Kardia (Liralen Li, li@Data-IO.com) Content: FEMALE ROOMATE/HOUSING WANTED Looking for a female housemate to share a house and expenses who doesn't mind late nights, no smoking, Toad the Wet Sprocket on _Fear_. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Posted by: Scott Gillig (David Chase, starride@silver.ksu.ksu.edu) Content: NOTICE: I am currently looking for and at different types of employment. In brief I am a Mercenary. I have many other skills and have worked with many different people: Areas that I have a working knowledge of: Fighting Seigecraft Horsemanship (raising, riding, training) Blacksmithing Weaponcrafter Armorer Carpentry Ships mate Ship Pilot Ship's gunnery Water Nav Bodyguard (personal, and group) Caravan teamster, Roady for Carnival How wizards/mages work (not how magic works) Archery, Fletching, Limited Hunting I can and have dealt with the Otherside (underground) I know how to deal with nobles and wizards/mages I will always keep the best interest of my job and/or employer in mind in all my actions. If anyone is interested in possibly hiring me I will be here at the Dragon's Inn. Scott Gillig I am Scott Gillig. I am "Dwarf Friend". If you are interested in having a good warrior and human who knows the dwarf way, contact me. I have lived with the dwarves for one year learning your way, and have travelled with my best friend TAK (dwarf) for 8 years. I am Scott Gillig. I am "Elf Friend". I have travelled with different elves for over 9 years. I am knowledgable in your ways and customs. I am a good fighter and honorable man. I know the ways of the world and wood. The above note is still good. I have currently found temporary employment with a group needed one of my skill as a mercenary. I should return here in two weeks and will be seeking employment at that time again. Post any messages here or leave a message with Littlefair at the bar. Scott Gillig _________________________________________________________________________ ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac559@Freenet.carleton.ca (Ian Clysdale) Subject: [JOI] [ADMIN] The Fellowship of the Dark... Message-ID: <1993May7.054202.18260@freenet.carleton.ca> Date: Fri, 7 May 1993 05:42:02 GMT [ADMIN] First, I'd like to echo some of the stuff that Johann said earlier; I would like to see this get started again, but I do understand what's happening with the summer. I think that we have to make a decision about whether we're going to put time in stasis over the summer; I'll send out a longer e-mail message later on this topic. Secondly, for myself I'm going to be away for the better part of the summer, so if we do continue, we'll have something happen to Elanon. Thirdly, has anyone kept full records of this thread all along, by any miraculous chance? I would really like to compile this thread eventually when it is finished, but I have a rather limited connection here, and they would literally strangle me if I tried to keep all of the posts on the computer here. Anyways, away from boring ADMIN topics, and on to... [JOI] Elanon looked around the camp, the scattered parts of the people who had joined them. Seeing the state of the camp, he could not help but feel some guilt. These people were here through his call, his was the name they followed. And he had brought them here; to be killed by demons leagues away from their destination, in a small island full of dark forests and murky streams. Miraculously, all of the fellowship were still alive, despite the fact that almost all of them had at one time or another been involved in some desperate fights with the otherworldly beings that pursued them. Elanon was worried in some part that he had not been targeted by these enemies yet -- did they have something still in store for him? While carrying out the work that needed to be done, he still kept a paranoid eye on the world around him. He cleaned up the mess left by the demon who had disguised himself as a stranger and attacked Kyar and Aleric, and then he began to bandage Kyar. Looking at Kyar, he hoped that the wounds were not serious. Demon- inflicted wounds were never something to be taken lightly; they led to fevers, agues, and all too often death. Elanon's cursed memory kept flashing back at him, showing pictures of those same ailments... *small children, those of friends, screaming away in delirium*...*warriors, strong warriors, dying the death of a traitor, having their insides die in the most painful way, leaving them screaming for mercy*...*his lifemate, stretched out and raped by a group of gob-demons, which their spoor killing her afterwards*... Dimly in the background, Elanon was aware of Aleric running towards his form, which by now was sprawling down, babbling away more inanities, as the dart which had hit his side began to enter the bloodstream. *villages who resisted, each woman man and child burned alive*... *worms slowly eating out men's brains, as the black mages watched and laughed*...*thousands of deaths imagined, all of which were to good for those dark-spawn*... Dark thoughts ran through Elanon's mind, and distorted themselves through his mouth, as he writhed on the ground. Eventually, his mind and his mouth became silent... -Elanon of Ullswater- -- Ian Clysdale | "And hast thou slain the Jabberwock? Student, Bell High | Come to my arms, my beamish boy! Nepean, Ontario | Oh frabjous day, Callooh Callay, AC559@FREENET.CARLETON.CA | He chortled in his joy..." MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Bulletin Board Date: 7 May 1993 06:44:15 GMT Message-ID: <1sd0fv$8n3@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: Bulletin, board, admin -=- Dragon's Inn Bulletin Board -=- week ending 7-May-93 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NEW THIS WEEK: none -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OTHER ACTIVE POSTS: Posted by: Imports, Exports, and Arms (Jeremy Nelson, gujn@uniwa.edu.au) Content: WE apologize for any time distortions in the local area, however, due to testing of a device (Henceforward known as 'The Thing'), the local timestream has become dislocated. There is no danger, however some people may undergo slight disorientation. Some people may apparently find themselves in multiple locations at one time. We assure customers that this is not dangerous, and all time lines are in fact continuous, and will straighten themselves out in time. We recommend leaving early for any important appointments. Normal service will be restored tomorrow, yesterday, in three weeks' time, and in three hundred and thirty years. All complaints should be forwarded to: Imports, Exports, and Arms. We thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Moriarty (Aaron Humphrey, aaron@space.ualberta.ca) Content: |-------------------------------| | Moriarty Investigations, Inc. | | | | Magic and muscle at your | | service! No problem too large | | or small! Reasonable rates! | | | | 15A-Gamma Cor Caroli Lane | | Just off the Arcade of | | Unforgotten Heroes! | |-------------------------------| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Trawm (The Dreamer, asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Content: Attention all Real Men: If you is reading this then you is in the rong bar. Come to the Spitting Cobra were you can have a good time at a good prise. FITING ENKOURAGED. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Malthus Dela Noeuze (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Content: **************************************** ** Perfumerie Grand Veneur ** ** Is Seeking a Person To ** ** Find and Bring Back a Great ** ** Blooddrinker or Souleater ** ** For Perfumeric Substances ** ** All Contacts Considered ** ** ** ** Master Perfumerist Malthus ** ** Dela Noeuze ** **************************************** SPECIAL STATUS: Posted by: Zenith (Mike Bavister, mrhyde@netcom.com Content: ANNOUNCING THE A.P.D-I ARCHIVES I have been carefully recording all that has transpired here at the Inn and in Generica. I estimate that my archives are missing less than 1 in 100. The archives contain over 4600 chapters (articles) in 20 huge volumes (MB). Currently the archives are only indexed by Subject (Subject line), but my trusty scribes are hard at work attempting to compile a keyword-index by name, place, and "thread". Alas, this task may take a while. There are two methods by which you, the citizens of Generica, can access the archives (and their indexes). Via the Post-Office or by Magic. Via Mail: Send mail to the address below, with your request in the body of the message. I will then search the index(es) for you, and either mail you the matching "chapters" or a list of matches (if there are too many "hits"). Until the keyword index is compiled, I will be very reluctant to search the actual archives for your requests. TO: mrhyde@netcom.com. EXAMPLE: Dear Zenith, Please search your archives for all occurance of "Lancos" or "Zebron". Thanks. Via Magic: I have set aside a portion of my personal library for the Indexes and other materials of interest. If you know the powerful "FTP" spell, you can access the indexes directly. The arcane formula is listed below. This archive is "read-only", you may retrieve anything you like from it, but you can't place anything there. If there is something you'd like placed there for the benefit of all Generican citizens, let me know via mail. Do not forget to use "binary mode" for all not in ".txt" format. The FTP library currently contains: Subject indexes (no.1-no.3999) The Directory of Generica (latest edition) JourneyGarb flyer/catalog APDI FAQs (full and mini) And coming soon: The DragonQuest Saga *note* All ".zip" files are compressed using the latest state-of-the-art compression magic. Older uncompression magic may not work (use "zip19" or "pkzip2.04"). If you have any difficulty with either the transfer of files or decompression, please let me know. ftp netcom.com(192.100.81.100) login: anonymous password: (your e-mail address) cd /pub/mrhyde/APDI Cheers and happy reading ____ / __ __ o _|_ | / |__| | | | | |__ /___ |__ | | | |_/ | | Head Librarian of the Great Library of Generica -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- REMOVED THIS WEEK : none _________________________________________________________________________ ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader From: peters@physics.ubc.ca (Dan Peters) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] Almost out of his shell Date: 7 May 1993 08:43:28 GMT Message-ID: <1sd7fgINNnlr@iskut.ucs.ubc.ca> Kaalzic braced himself and stepped inside the Dragon's Inn. Nothing happened. He looked around. There were many people in the room (most seated at tables, some gathered around the fire, a few standing), but with relief he saw that no one was taking any special notice of him. He intended, at first, to head quickly up the stairs and find the tiny room in the attic with which he was familiar. (The Nowhere Room, he called it.) But the success of his entrance, coupled with the sudden realization that he was cold and wet, made the fire seem very attractive. He walked toward the fire () and sat down. After a short time he was at least warm, if not dry, and not wanting to push his luck, he stood up and walked toward the stairs. On the way, his eyes met those of Rowan Littlefair, who simply nodded expressionlessly. Soon he was alone in the Nowhere Room. Beside the sleeping mat (which was always there) there was a hot bowl of stew and a hot mug of tea. ------------------------------------------------------------ He woke late in the morning, and lacking any better idea, went downstairs, taking his pack with him. He was not at all enthusiastic about trying to rebuild his cabin; he would wait until a few dry days had passed before tackling that problem. Meanwhile, he intended to bring to the Inn whatever belongings of his remained intact in the wreckage. But as he passed throught the common room, he was distracted by a most unusual sight - it seemed to be a miniature horse, but with a horn in its forehead. , he thought. It was standing near a table at which a man and a woman were deep in conversation, apparently negotiating a business deal of some kind. He found his way to a nearby table. He had hoped for one of the corners, but they all seemed to be occupied. The table he found was near the wall, not far from the horned horse. After a while he became aware of a nearby conversation from another table. In the nearest corner there was a strangely mixed group of what evidently were adventurers. One of them, a red-haired man dressed in green, said something Kaalzic found _very_ interesting. An inner battle began. Talking to strangers was terrifying, but in this case, it might be necessary.... -- ^..^ / | Dan Peters | "He who would cross the Sea of Fate | /_/\_____/ | | must answer me these questions 28." | /\ /\ |peters@physics.ubc.ca|[from an early draft of Monty Python & the | / \ / \ | |Holy Grail, shortly after the bridge scene]| MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: acorboy@ux4.cso.uiuc.edu (Andrew E Corboy) Subject: Re: [blade] Max meets the boys Date: Thu, 6 May 1993 22:07:38 GMT Message-ID: References: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir-the-Love-Stricken-and-happy) writes: > Max climbed back out and ran over towards the location. It was a >couple of streets away, an easy run. > He stopped. There was an Old Man staring in disbelief as the >half-rabbit guy bounded away. > > What the hell was that guy's name anyway? > Tyrell, or something like that. > > Max went after him. > "Hey, friend, where'd the rest of 'em get to ?", he called to the >half rabbit. Knowing full well that Max was quite capable of keeping up with him, Tyrone continued to follow the direction of his sword. "I know not where Gortok, Chip, or Arcadio are, but Meshtak is this way." To punctuate his words, the Were-Rabbit pointed his large sword roughly east. "The Draga still carries the sheath to my weapon, and as long as he keeps doing so, I can follow him." Just then, the pair rounded a corner and came face to face with a small temple of some kind. "I'd say he's in there, shall we find out?" Without bothering to hear Max's reply, Sir Tyrone secured his sword in his belt as best he could and with all the reverance that a couple of decades as a Paladin gives a man, enters the place of worship.... -- Andrew Corboy & Jon Gad | Jon Gad is only recieving mail from acorboy@ux4.cso.uiuc.edu | this account and assumes no | responsibility for posts made from it. | Even if Jon Gad wrote them. ;) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: acorboy@ux4.cso.uiuc.edu (Andrew E Corboy) Subject: Re: [blade] Max meets the boys Date: Fri, 7 May 1993 00:43:13 GMT Message-ID: References: <1993May6.074358.26797@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> mreinker@nyx.cs.du.edu (matthew Reinker) writes: > He proceeded down a dark alley when a white form ran passed the end, >followed closely by another silvery form. Gortok broke into a run. At >the end of the alley, he spotted Tyrone talking to the strange >wizard/warrior...was his name Mack? He headed to join them. > "Hey Tyrone! Can your sword make good Ale? I need a drink." Tyrone had his foot half-way through the door when he heard the Undwarf's voice. Turning slowly, he was pleased to note that Gortok had indeed caught up with him. "No my friend, I'm afraid not. Its very good at seeking out unnattended vegetables and tasty roots or in locating Lycanthropes to flee or fight. It can even change sizes and duplicate some of my lost Paladin powers. But it can't make Ale. It CAN locate Meshtak for us, though. And it almost has, too. Our friend the Draga is currently within this building, but I somehow doubt they'll have any ale for you to drink." He nods toward the small temple that his sword told him contained the weapon's sheath. "Maybe we could go in and see if he's got a plan to deal with this Hendrix fellow...." Jon Gad / Sir Tyrone -- Andrew Corboy & Jon Gad | Jon Gad is only recieving mail from acorboy@ux4.cso.uiuc.edu | this account and assumes no | responsibility for posts made from it. | Even if Jon Gad wrote them. ;) MagicHutchHeader From: richk@tekeda.PEN.TEK.COM (Richard C Kurschner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [L&S] Run-away 1 Message-ID: <9866@tekig7.PEN.TEK.COM> Date: 7 May 93 16:55:06 GMT [ADMIN: This follows the L&S Awakenings series. Serveral people helped on this and following posts; thanks to Laurie Alden, The Dreamer, and Stephen Hutchison. Special thanks to Andrea Evans for her suggestions.] Why? Always questions. Questions about where she was from. Questions about her early life. Questions about home. Even in everyday conversation there were open-ended statements designed to bring out information on her life before she came to Generica. Before she came to live here. Why couldn't they just leave her alone? She did not want to go home. She did not want to keep being reminded of what she had lost. She had no home. No home. That thought reverberated through her young mind. No home, not even here. Oh these people were nice enough, but what did they want from her? They were friendly, but they always wanted answers. Answers to questions she didn't want to think about. She didn't want to think about home. She had no home. No home. This place certainly wasn't home. It was dark and warm and comfortable here in this tree called Shadehaven. It was almost like home. But it wasn't home. Why was she still here? She was here because they wanted to keep her here. They wanted something from her. Sure, they let her out, but always with someone. Besides the questions, she was always being watched. The last time she was watched this closely was... She choked. The last time she was watched this closely was... Before her father sold her to the slavers! It WAS just like home. Her chest heaved in panic. She was caged. Luthor, Serene, the Captain, they were going to sell her! They were keeping her, just like before... at home! She had to escape. She had to leave NOW. She would not be a slave again. She was gasping for air. Fear choked her. NO! It could not happen again! Fear and panic clouded her young mind. She was reduced to her primal instincts. In a silent scream, the tension that had been building all day snapped. Her last shred of reason gone. She ran. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Excuse me Captain." The Captain marked his place in the geography he was reading and looked up. "Yes Sargent?" "The girl is gone - Raylard saw her go running from the house about two minutes ago. I immediately sent one of the dogs to trail. Kell'an is ready to follow or recall the dog as you wish." The Captain was out of his chair, heading for the library door. "I'll follow with Kell'an; Trina doesn't know her. You alert Luthor or Serene if either is still up." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She was away. No one stopped her. Echos of her shoes slapping the pavement were the only sounds to break the peace of Shadehaven's district. The streets were clear. No one was out this late at night. She didn't know where she was going. She just knew that she had to get away. She could not be a slave, she would not be sold, she had to be free. The elvish quarter was soon behind her. She kept running. MagicHutchHeader From: richk@tekeda.PEN.TEK.COM (Richard C Kurschner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [L&S] Run-away 2 Message-ID: <9869@tekig7.PEN.TEK.COM> Date: 7 May 93 19:35:27 GMT "Which dog did you trail her with?" the Captain asked while putting on his night cloak. "Bonarth. Here Lestack, here's Bonarth's blanket." Kell'an shoved the blanket in front of the dog's nose to familiarize him with the sent. "The wolf?" "Yeah. Track, Lestack, Track! Don't worry, he won't hurt her, but he will keep up with her better than any of the hounds." Lestack was now running back and forth, sniffing at the road, searching for his kennel-mate's sent. "What direction did she head?" "Towards the Keep. Come on, boy, find the scent, you know Bonarth. She was running fast." "What was she wearing?" "Raylard said just normal clothes. Not good for this late at night." The dog suddenly bolted in the direction of Glorshanned Keep. "He's found it! Let's go!" The Captain and the woman set off at a quick but maintainable pace behind their hound. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She slowed some. No one could keep up that pace for very long. Dogs barked at her in challenge as she raced past the buildings and courtyards they guarded. They barked again in greeting as Bonarth trailed behind her, always there, slowly catching up. She never heard the dogs, never saw the wolf as she made her dash for freedom. Her heart was pounding. Her blood was roaring in her ears. Her breathing was ragged. She noticed these things no more than she did the dogs she past. She had to get away. She kept running. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "What's that?" The city guard point out someone running in the distance. "Looks like a little girl. Probably caught pinching someone's purse, nothing important." "Yeah, but she's running fast, and away from the palace. You suppose she's stolen something important? Or escaped?" "Hmm... right, we'd better check it out." The guards ran towards her. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Up ahead! People? "Halt!" came a cry. Guards! She didn't understand how they could have gotten ahead of her so soon. So fast. She knew what would happen if they caught her. She'd be locked up. And sold. She couldn't let that happen again. Never again. They'd punish her. They'd hurt her. She had to get away. She veered South, off the main road, into the winding streets of Generica's Northwest residential districts. The tricks that she had learned during the first few weeks of living on the streets came back to her. How to survive. How to lose someone. How to get away. She must lose them. She must get away. She cut between buildings and down alleys. She hopped over hedges, and cut through courtyards. Running from shadow to shadow. Always changing directions. Looking to put as many corners between her and her pursuers. She kept running. MagicHutchHeader From: richk@tekeda.PEN.TEK.COM (Richard C Kurschner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [L&S] Run-away 3 Message-ID: <9870@tekig7.PEN.TEK.COM> Date: 7 May 93 19:46:35 GMT The two guards tried to keep up with the girl. Her youthful speed and the winding streets were well matched to the guards' knowledge of the area, and more than a match for their age and lack of conditioning. Soon they came to a stop, sweating and panting. They hadn't seen her now for a couple of minutes. "We've lost her." "Where do you think she's headed?" "No idea. And the way she is winding though here, I don't think she knows either. One thing's for certain, she'll soon hit the river." "Come on then, head for the bridge! We can cut her off there!". The chase resumed. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Where the hell is she headed?" "I have no idea, Sir. I've lived in this city all my life, and now Lestack is taking us down streets I've never seen before. A few moments later, Kell'an continued, "You know, I think she's heading for the river." "Will that be a problem to track if she crosses?" "I doubt she'll be able to cross. Certainly not with the stronger current since the storm. I just hope she doesn't try something foolish." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She jumped a hedge and then swerved left just in time to save going into the Ceruputhon. The river. She had to cross the river. She knew she would be safe, if she could just cross the river. But how? It was too wide for her. She'd have to go along the bank til she found some way across. Running along the river bank was hard. The ground was uneven. Slowing her down. She'd have to risk getting back on the streets. This was better. No sound of the guards. She'd lost them! No one would stop her now. No one would make her a slave. A bridge was ahead. If she could just cross it without being spotted again. She kept running. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "There she is!" The city guard pointed to a running form near the library. "Get'er before she crosses the bridge!" "You! There ahead! Girl! Halt!" As the guards ran past the corner of the Great Library, a wolf came, seemingly out of nowhere, and piled into them, sending all three sprawling. Just as quickly, the wolf was back up and running in the direction of the girl. "You idiot!" shouted one guard as he tried to get up. "You should have been watching where you were going," came his partner's angry response. He got up and helped his parter to stand. The two watched as the girl disappeared over the bridge, followed by a wolf. "It's not my fault! You were on that side, you should have seen the dog comming and warned me!" "How? It was black and came out of the shadows. Besides, that was no dog, it was a wolf. What the hell is a wolf doing in the City? The first guard slumped against the wall, then slid down to a sitting position. "I have no idea. But I can't stand, my leg won't support me. I think you broke my ankle." A couple of minutes latter, while one guard was tending to his partners foot, they were run over again, this time by a bloodhound followed by a pair of Humans dressed in private guard uniforms. A faint "Sorry!" was the only response to their curses as they watched this group too disappear over the bridge towards the Plaza of Glittering Steel. MagicHutchHeader From: richk@tekeda.PEN.TEK.COM (Richard C Kurschner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [L&S] Run-away 4 Message-ID: <9872@tekig7.PEN.TEK.COM> Date: 7 May 93 19:56:15 GMT After crossing the Plaza of Glittering Steel, she again left the main road. She would not make the same mistake twice She would get away, but she would do it by the back streets and alleys. It was safer that way. Freedom needed speed, but it required safety. She had entered the low city. Or, rather, what was left of it. Her mind, focused solely on her escape, did not allow her to notice the destruction the recent storm left in its path. Boards, glass, pottery, all strewn across the ground. Little was left of the hovels and their owners that she had preyed on when she first arrived in Generica. None of that was important to her now. None of the destruction could stop her. She had to stay free. She had to escape. She never saw the board laying in the street, or the nail that it held up. In her blind dash, she never felt the pain as she landed squarely on the nail, driving it clean through the shoe and into the arch of her foot. She kept running. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- She was stumbling now. Her heart, her lungs, her foot conspired against her. Things were starting to intrude on the single thought in her mind. Something was preventing her from getting away. Something hurt. She couldn't see well. Her focus was off. All the lights were stars. Her eyes burned. Tears and sweat made it so hard to see. Slower now. And limping. She kept running. But not for long. Two eyes in a secret post could see that. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Awh Shit!" "What is it Kell'an?" "She's headed into the Shunned Center!" "So?" "We've lost her." Kell'an came to a stop. The Captain stopped too and turned back to the guard. "Your hound is still following the trail." "Yeah, and we've probably lost Bonarth too." "What are you talking about!" "Nobody ever comes back out of the Center! Once you goes in, you may as well be dead! Creepy Charlie will get you!" Kell'an started to back away from the obvious edge of the zone. She was panting hard from her run, but her muscles were tense and hard, ready to spring away and save herself. Her wide eyes mirrored the terror she felt in her heart. "Guardsman!" snapped the Captain. "You and I will continue to follow the girl. That is an order! Do you understand?" "Yes, Sir!" The force of his words had broken through her paralyzing childhood fears and reached to her military core. "Sorry, Sir. But beware, the Shunned Center is not like the rest of the City. Keep your guard up and your head down." The pair and their dog resumed the chase. MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] [HouseStorming] The Morning After Date: Fri, 07 May 93 16:02:19 CDT Message-ID: <16BC7E18C.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu> Keywords: [AU] [HouseStorming] Andrea Sheryl Mary Kardia 'Raelf Raykor The day dawned bright and early over Generica, a day which held portents of mystery and awe, though only to Enn Piecy and others who, like him, were able to see it. Those men scurried about their business when they saw what the day held in store, scurrying around like worried rats told that their ship was about to go down. But to Andrea the thief, and Sheryl the unicorn, the day held no such portents at all, except perhaps a feeling of foreboding on Andrea's part, but she was not to feel that until much later on. Right now, she was still asleep, dreaming of we know not what. Whatever it was that she WAS dreaming, if at all, it had to be a peaceful dream, for she showed no signs of restless sleep or disturbance. Indeed, how COULD she have aught but peaceful dreams with her younger sister and good friend Sheryl sleeping by her side? The young 'corn was now completely free of Raykor's curse, and her full powers had begun to manifest, though by no means would they fully appear for many years to come. With Sheryl's magic presence by her side, Andrea was protected from restless sleep--at least for the nonce. Now the sunlight shining through the windows seemed to brighten up the room, and Andrea's eyelids flickered. She blinked, rubbing her eyes. "Well, it's about time...I'm hungry!" Half-asleep, Andrea said, "Oh, okay...give me a minute, I'll get you breakfast..." Then, thirty seconds later as she pulled on her breeches, she did a doubletake. "What--?" Sheryl nickered plaintively. She was hungry, and wanted Andrea to know about it! Andrea shook her head. "Must have been dreaming." She finished dressing, stood up. "Gods, my head aches..." She walked over in front of the mirror, and caught a glimpse of it out of the corner of her eye. She turned, gazed into the looking glass, and her jaw dropped. There she saw the image of a large, beautiful white unicorn, with a long, softly glowing horn, big blue eyes, and flowing mane--similar to Sheryl, only larger--staring back at her from where her own reflection should have been. Her mouth wide open in shock, Andrea looked down at herself to see a perfectly normal, perfectly human body, her hands held trembling in front of her. She looked back up at the mirror...and saw her own reflection once more. "Gods..." Andrea said. Sheryl cocked her head and nickered an interrogative. Was Andrea going crazy? "I think Kardia was right...maybe I SHOULD have 'Raelf scan me..." She shook her head. "But for now...to breakfast." Andrea stepped down the short flight of stairs to the Dragon's Inn common room, Sheryl right behind her. They took a seat at the bar. "What'll it be?" Mary Littlefair asked. "Bacon, eggs, biscuits and gravy, and hash browns," Andrea decided. "And orange juice. I'm feeling hungry today." Sheryl nickered. "And I think she'll have, um, a bowl of oatmeal. Right, Sheryl?" Sheryl nickered. Oatmeal was fine with her. She was a unicorn; she couldn't afford to be picky. As Mary put the dishes out, and Andrea set hers down in front of Sheryl, she couldn't help but wish she could make herself understood, though. Sometimes it got to be a real pain being misunderstood, especially by her own sister. After breakfast, Andrea stepped outside, sniffed the breeze. Odd...it smelled...different. Fresher...cleaner...clearer... She looked around, and Sheryl followed suit, nickering gently. Royal scribes were putting up some sort of signs, but she didn't pay any attention to them. There was something in the air...a feeling of foreboding that she couldn't shake. And the walls--they seemed to be closing in on her. She shook her head. "I've got to get out of here..." she muttered. "I have to get out of town...that's what I need. I want to run free in the wide open plains...this town is just too...enclosed." Sheryl glanced nervously at Andrea. What was happening to her? SOMETHING was...she could tell that. But not the cause, or the effect. Andrea dashed back inside, and placed several gold pieces on the counter. "Mary," she said hurriedly, "Could you hold my room for me for the next several days? This should cover the fee..." Mary Littlefair nodded. "I can do that, no problem. Will there be anything el--" "Yes, yes..." Andrea was shifting her balance from one foot to the other, as if she desperately needed to attend to some natural function but was holding it back through force of will. "I need paper and pen. Please hurry." "All right," Mary said, bringing out several slips of paper and a stylus, being well-used to rushed adventurers. Andrea hurriedly scribbled out, in a shaky hand, notes to Kardia and 'Raelf. They read: Kardia: I really have to get out of here. I don't know what it is, but I just can't stay in this town a moment longer! If you want to meet me, come to the plains north of town, and I'll be there somewhere. I'll be back in a few days. I hope. Andrea Then she put a note up on the bulletin board. It read: ------ TO THOSE WHO'VE VOLUNTEERED FOR THE HOUSESTORMING I will be out of town for the next several days...I'm not sure when I'll be back but it should be very soon. Leave notes and messages for me at the bar and I'll be by to pick them up when I get back. We'll start the housestorming then. Thanks, and may the gods be with you. Andrea ------ With that, Andrea ran back into her room to get her pack and things, then she shouldered the burden and ran out, then started running to the north as fast as she could, with Sheryl right behind her. She didn't know why--she just knew that she had to get out of town before she suffocated! -- Chris Meadows || Andrea & Sheryl CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || [AU] thread, alt.pub.dragons-inn CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || -------------------------------- CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || A supporter of rec.arts.creative MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: acorboy@ux4.cso.uiuc.edu (Andrew E Corboy) Subject: [Sorc] At the Sea Shore Date: Fri, 7 May 1993 17:41:30 GMT Message-ID: Her first sensation was one of cold. Cold air blowing over her body, cold water splashing her feet, cold pinpricks of rain smacking into her back. It was annoying and unpleasent, but it also returned her to conciousness. With the groan of those who would really rather be sleeping, Alicia rolled over from where she had collapsed and sat up. For a moment she was terribly confused, and she wondered dully why she wasn't in her oh-so-warm bed waking up to the gentle tones of the enchanted bells her mother had crafted. Then the rush of memory flooded back into her mind. Her bed and the beautiful bells had been destryed months ago when Wevlyndale fell. Her mother was dead, as were almost everyone she knew or cared about. And the chill of the plain steel collar magically sealed around her throat reminded her of what had happened to her after she had used the WorldGate to escape. Somehow, despite the frost in the wind and the cold of the water, the place on her neck where the steel band touched her skin was colder than anywhere else. Alicia shook her head rapidly to clear it of the depressing thoughts that were lodged there. As she did so, she noticed something next to her in the sand. Or rather, someone. A moderately attractive male Elf lay unconcious on the beach. His clothes were tatters, and it seemed like what remained had been badly burned. In the darkness of the early morning his skin seemed almost supernaturally pale, but then again, she decided, it was probably just a trick of the light. Figuring that the first step would be to get him out of the rain, Alicia grabbed the Elf by his armpist and dragged him under one of the remaining piers along the shore. His skin was as cold as ice, almost colder than the water even. A terrible thought occured to her. Maybe she had been too late to save this Elf from a death by drowning. Reaching to the soft skin of his throat, Alicia tried to find a pulse. There was none. Placing one hand to his lips and another to his chest, she was unable to find even the slightest hint of breath. With a quiet sob, Alicia drew back and began to chant the ritual Rhyme Of The Departed that she had learned as a child in Wevlyndale. She was almost finished when the Elf twitched. Startled out of her rhythm, Alicia allowed the chant to fade. Staring at the body that she was sure was dead, the red haired Half-Elf gave a small cry when it twitched again. Checking again for breathing or pulse, Alicia began to fear when she again found none. With trembling hands, she gently pulled open the deceased Elf's lips. There was a small set of retractable fangs in his mouth. "Bright Lady preserve me!" Scarmbling back from the Elven Vampire, Alicia cast her eyes around for a piece of wood to destroy it with. She found a piece of driftwood nearby that that might do the job, and she quickly returned to the comatose Undead. Raising the piece of wood above its chest, Alicia prepared to destroy it. She hesitated. Despite her fear, the Elf seemed so peaceful that a wave of doubt washed over her. Maybe she didn't need to kill it. But if she didn't, it might cost her her life or the lives of others because she didn't act when she could have. Memories of the Undead horde spilling out of the Tower of Necromancy in Wevlyndale rose to her thoughts. She remembered the cries of the City Guardsmen as they died at the rotting hands of Ghasts, Wraiths, Spectres, and Vampires. The screams of her little sister as the Blood-Sucker ended her all too brief life and the vow she made to avenge her kin all came back to her. And yet, her resolve was not up to the grisly task. Despite the horror of her memories, Alicia couldn't bring herself to slay the Vampire whiles it was helpless. It seemed like murder, and the one thing she had never been was a murderer. The piece of wood dropped from her numb fingers and bounced into the sand below. Tears ran down her cheeks as she contemplated her cowardice and the spirit of her sister seemed to beg her to finish the deed and destroy the beast. Her hand was slowly drifting toward the driftwood when she realized that she was too late. The Vampire's eyes were open and locked on hers. She knew that a Vampire's eyes held within them the power to control others, yet she couldn't bear to pull her gaze away from those lovely eyes and the tormented soul that lay beneath them. Despair claimed her. Her life was over, and if the Vampire was feeling especially cruel, maybe her Undeath was about to begin. As the Elf slowly sat up, Alicia tried to close her eyes, but failed. She tried to run, to grab the wood and stab it, to do ANYTHING at all, but failed. Either the Vampire's power or her own fear had taken her mind prisoner and all she could do was kneel in the sand and weep and wait for the killing blow that would end her life once and for all..... Jon Gad -- Andrew Corboy & Jon Gad | Jon Gad is only recieving mail from acorboy@ux4.cso.uiuc.edu | this account and assumes no | responsibility for posts made from it. | Even if Jon Gad wrote them. ;) MagicHutchHeader From: richk@tekeda.PEN.TEK.COM (Richard C Kurschner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [L&S] Run-away 5 Message-ID: <9874@tekig7.PEN.TEK.COM> Date: 7 May 93 21:05:06 GMT Her foot hurt, but she couldn't stop. There was something following her. Something big and black. Something that would surely eat her. She had to keep running. But the further she went, the worse it got. The pain in her foot and the fear in her mind. The pain and the fear. She was alone. And cold. And soaked in perspiration. She had no idea where she was. There were no people or animals here. There were no lights except for the stars. And they didn't look like any star patterns she remembered. They seemed to move from time to time; re-arranging themselves as if at will, guided by some unfathomable purpose. The only fixed things she could see were the buildings. If you could call them buildings. Many were heaps of rubble. But some were whole, or nearly so, and they were strange. They were ugly. They were beyond ugly. They were unlike anything she had ever seen before. Windows were in wrong places. Doors of impossible sizes. Walls at odd angles. Everything was wrong. The buildings seemed to watch her run and to take great delight in her pain. They would suddenly rise up in front of her, blocking her path, forcing her to turn again and again. Somehow the buildings were directing her to some end she did not know. If nothing else in this place was, the buildings were alive! And then there were the shadows. The same shadows that had been kind to her earlier, had helped her avoid the guards, had now turned against her. Try as she might, she could not use them to hide from her pursuer. Suddenly they would shift and move when she tried to enter them, keeping her visible to hidden watchers, always visible. The only thing the shadows hid were the pot holes in the street that always seemed to open up right under her feet. Her tired, aching, sore, feet. The buildings, the shadows, and the eyes. Oh yes, there were eyes. At first only two, but they pursued her. Relentlessly. She ran and they followed. Shining black eyes, always behind her. Dogging her every move, twist, and turn. Following. Hidden in the shadows, the same shadows that wouldn't help her. She could never get a good glimpse of her pursuer, but she new it was big and black. And could run. Soon those eyes were joined by others. Some watched as she went by. Some followed for short distances. Others..., well, others tried to catch her, to hold her, to keep her. She tried to run away, but the more she ran, the worse it got. The shadows were now calling out to her. Calling to her to run further, run faster, egging her on. Wanting her. Shifting to keep her moving. She never saw anyone. She was alone. Just her, the buildings, the shadows, and the eyes. She tried to keep running. She turned a corner, and there was a light. A pure white light. She ran towards it. Marshaling her last energies, she ran for the only thing she recognized. She stumbled. She fell. There was darkness. MagicHutchHeader From: richk@tekeda.PEN.TEK.COM (Richard C Kurschner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [L&S] Run-away 6 Message-ID: <9876@tekig7.PEN.TEK.COM> Date: 7 May 93 22:01:35 GMT [ADMIN: Thanks to Clint Wolf for use of his Shun Runner spoke.] It had been a quiet night here in the 'Buff. No runners were scheduled, and only the top members of the spoke were meeting to decide what to do now that their old meeting place had been destroyed in the storm. The spoke Eldar, was sitting on his 'throne', an old cushioned chair from the Shunned Center. It was one of the few things saved (or worth saving) from the ruins of their old meeting place. Around him was the spoke's 'Liff, and three other senior shunrunners. What had started as a active discussion of alternate locations had deteriorated to a series of verbal attacks about each other's failures to save the old location from the storm, to a brooding silence. They tried to remember sites that should still be standing, yet unused and thus available for their nightly gatherings. In time, places would be found. But they needed a place now. A place to meet and a place to store the precious 'jects they found on their runs. The tense silence was broken by the crys of young Lissine, a tag-along girl not yet old enough to be init'ed. "'Liff, 'Liff! You neg nog what I vizzed!" She slid to a stop in front of the startled group. Her surprise too was obvious at seeing the spoke leadership in the make-shift meeting area. "Oh, sorry Eldar, your nogness, I neg expect you here!" Recovering faster than the others, the spoke Eldar said, "What's the phenom little tag?" "A fem, 'bout Lindy's age, just went skippin' into the SC. She was jacked and looked like she was all ready feeling the press, all shivvy and all." "That's it?" "Neg, Eldar. A min later the fem was followed by a barker, a pos big barker. I was about to skip to tell 'Liff, when up comes another fem and a masc with another barker! The fem's all nervy, telling the masc 'bout the ledges and stuff, but he don't buy none of it and up and orders her into the Center! Acts like he never feel no press at all! They skip in, and then I nog I gots to let the 'Liff aud it!" "Was they old?" asked one of the runners. "Oh I pos the fem was older than you, Eldar. And the masc must have been older than my grand-da!" "Did they have net?" asked the spokes 'Liff. "Well, not the first fem, she looked to have neg net. But the other two, now they had definite pos net!" "When they go skippin'?" asked another runner. "Just a couple of mins. I skip back as best I could!" "Any other vizzers out there?" asked the Eldar. "Neg, I was solo." Lissine's breathing was finally slowing down. The Eldar sat and thought for a minute. If they could bring back whatever 'jects the fem and masc might have, it could be a good haul. Worth the danger. Could go a long way to solving some of their families' financial problems. "All right, aud me good! We're going to go running for 'em. Between Creepy Charlie and the Press, they can't have skipped too far; they should be all jacked by now. If we didj 'em, we be pos net. Lissine, you wait for us with the 'Liff at your vis point. The rest of you nog me? Pip up if you be nervy." Smiling, the shunrunners sat in silence. MagicHutchHeader From: richk@tekeda.PEN.TEK.COM (Richard C Kurschner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [L&S] Run-away 7 Message-ID: <9877@tekig7.PEN.TEK.COM> Date: 7 May 93 22:02:35 GMT Kell'an had heard the legends of the Shunned Center of Generica when she grew up in the city. The stories were mostly designed to scare little children with tales of Creepy Charlie, and what he would do to little boys and girls who were bad. For the most part, the stories worked. She had never gotten into too much trouble, and when she did, she never repeated her mistake. The tales had also servered to keep Kell'an out of the Center; she never wanted to risk meeting Creepy Charlie. No way. Not with what he could do to little girls. Pull all their hair out. Turn their faces black. Break all of their bones. Make their dolls scream and bleed. She never wanted to go near the Shunned Center. Now, as a grown woman, here she was, blindly following her dogs through the deserted streets and passages of the Center itself. It was like a foreign city. Nothing was recognizable; the streets and buildings were unlike anything she had grown up around. Some of the streets were little more than courtyards. Others were so surrounded by buildings that they became tunnels. The street directions were just a bizarre; many a time it seemed that the building was sited in the middle of a street, forcing a detour and change of direction. And those buildings. Many were destroyed, but by what force was unknown; weathering and erosion could not produce those piles of rubble. But the collapsed buildings were the easy ones to look at. Those still standing were a disgusting combination of garish and ghastly. In design, in trim, in style they were old. So old even the ghosts had forgotten that it ever existed. Windows and doors were out of proportion. Stairways went nowhere, or worse, in wrong directions. In this place a gargoyle on a roof top would out of place, yet it would be an improvement. It all made her head hurt. For comfort she looked up to the well known stars of the Generican Spring. But the patterns she saw were not the ones she expected. Somehow the stars had re-arranged themselves into patterns that were lewd and disgusting. She stumbled as she fought down a rebellious stomach. She kept telling herself that it really wasn't so bad after all. It could be a lot worse. No sign of Creepy Charlie. No sign of anybody. No sign of anything at all. Just decaying buildings. Most of them with black, empty windows. Staring at them like skulls with empty eye sockets. Empty. The entire area seemed so empty. There was nothing here. Nothing alive. There were no sounds other than they and Lestack. There were no lights other than those horrible stars. No people, no movement other than themselves. No one, nothing. Not even Creepy Charlie. Ha! Creepy Charlie probably didn't even exist! Ha! What a joke. Just a bunch of stories to scare a little girl. Ha Ha! What's the big deal about the 'Shunned Center'? Ha Ha Ha! I could come here any time! Ha Ha! I could take this place on alone! Ha Ha! I could make this place mine, Ha Ha, wander at will, Ha Ha! I snap my fingers at Creepy Charlie! Ha Ha! The last of her thoughts broke through and found voice. "Ha Ha Ha Ha." Kell'an's high-pitched, nervous laughter grated on the silence of the Center. Her laughter seemed to attract the attention of an unseen army of watchers. It was as if the buildings themselves turned and looked at her. She knew the Shunned Center had taken notice of her. "Quiet guardsman!" came the Captain's quick whisper. She must be feeling some of the pressure he thought. Ever since they crossed what she called 'The Edge', he had felt something. First it had only been a tickle at the back of his neck. He slapped at it, but nothing was there. That had gotten him thinking about the stories Kell'an had mentioned, and others... He had heard rumors and whispered conversations about the 'Shunned Center' since he first arrived in Generica but had dismissed them as old wives tales. Besides, before this he had no reason to check them out. Then the tickle moved up into the back of his head. His mental shields slammed into place. It had been a long time since he had needed those. Since before he had arrived in Generica. They were a little slow from lack of use, but they seemed to be strong. He pulled Kell'an close to him as they trotted down the twisted ruins of the street. If he could keep her close, in physical contact, he could partially shield her as well. Her nervousness subsided, and her laughter stopped. She seemed to be focusing more on her dog now. Good. Stay focused. Don't think. Follow Lestack. Find Trina. Something was exploring his shields. Something was trying to find a way in. The shields kept the intruder out of his mind, but they didn't change what he saw in this Hell-hole. This was almost as bad as... Well, as that place before Generica. Shadows moved on their own. As if going about some unknown business. Sometimes they would stop and watch the party's progress. At other times they seemed to do their best to stop the party, to turn them from the path Lestack was tracking. And now they watched, recorded, and reported. Every move made was being sent back to some unseen commander. Every action was being evaluated, plans were made, outcomes assessed. The shadows were the eyes of this city. And the eyes of the intruder in his mind. Soon they would become the agents of change. If he didn't open his shields, the shadows would attack. Swallow them up. Never let them see another sunrise, to be left for eternity in this twilight state. Being one of them. There was no escape from the shadows. They followed. As he followed the twists and turns of the trail, so too they followed him. There was no escape. None, except to let down his shields. To allow the intruder full access to his mind. To be examined. To be used. To be changed. To be absorbed. Absorbed into the shadows. MagicHutchHeader From: richk@tekeda.PEN.TEK.COM (Richard C Kurschner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [L&S] Run-away 8 Message-ID: <9878@tekig7.PEN.TEK.COM> Date: 7 May 93 22:03:37 GMT Bonarth was barking! That meant they were closing in on Trina, but the wolf had been trained not to bark unless commanded. A yelp of pain and a thud replaced the barking, followed only by silence. Warily, the Captain and Kell'an approached the alley where Bonarth was last heard. The only illumination around was a single lantern hung outside a doorway sixty feet away. Sprawled face down in the small pool of light was the unmoving form of Trina. The rest of the alley was dark. Unnaturally so, even for this Hell-hole. There was no sign of Bonarth. The Captain and Kell'an moved towards Trina. They didn't get far before Lestack started growling. "Creepy Charlie's here," whispered Kell'an. As if in response to her warning, a BLACK form rose between them and the light, a silhouette blacker even than Luthor's probability cloak. The only distinguishable features on the ebon form were the two two points of piercing white where eyes would be. It seemed to move closer and grow larger. A deep voice of evil and malice seemed to ooze out from the very rocks of the walls. "Leave me. I am feeding." "Who are you!" The Captain's voice was a command, not a question. "I am Soul Stealer. Take care that I do not feed on yours tonight." "'Soul Stealer' is not a name. I ask you again, Who Are You." The Captain's voice rang out in challenge. Lestack's growl became an agitated barking. "I do not give my name to meddling sell-swords and little girls. And mutts offend me." He punctuated his irritation with a blast of BLACK energy, blacker than the night. The bolt of BLACK hit Lestack square in the face and sent him flying back out of the alley. No further sounds came from the dog. The tension of her journey through the Shunned Center topped by such cruelty to one of her dogs was was more than Kell'an could bear. She charged, screaming "Die, Creepy Charlie!". Her fight was over just as quickly as her hound's; a bolt of BLACK silently crumpled her against a wall. "For the deaths of my fiends and animals, you owe me your name! For the third and last time, I ask you, WHO ARE YOU!" The deep earthen reply came back almost as a chuckle, "Oh they aren't dead. Not by a long shot. Though they will soon wish they were. And so shall you!" Before another BLACK bolt could be fired, the Captain dropped his mental shields and released a brilliant blast of white light. It hit the ebon being square on in its chest, forcing it backwards. The Captain fired again with the same results. He fired a third bolt of pure white energy, and this time he was rewarded with a scream. A hole had appeared in the void of the BLACK chest. The being seemed to dissolve and dissipate. Soon only its eyes were left. A deep whisper was heard from the surrounding rocks and bricks: "Know this human, my name is not for you, and I shall discover yours. And when I do, you will rue the day you discovered the Soul Stealer feeding. Death himself shall not keep me from you." The white light of the eyes winked out. He crawled over to the limp form of Trina. The third bolt had taken all of the Captains reserves. It was only then he realized that while in the presence of the being, he had not needed his mental shields, there had been no mental pressure. But the pressure was back now. And he couldn't stop it. His head hurt. His vision swam. The light in the doorway changed through the colors of the rainbow. Very Pretty. The shadows and the stars started to shift and dance. Little people grew out of the street. And smiled at him. The Captain passed out under the assult. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hibschmn@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Johann Allen Hibschman) Subject: Reaffirmation of Faith Message-ID: <1993May7.211604.5576@Princeton.EDU> Date: Fri, 7 May 1993 21:16:04 GMT Just before dawn, Quaeros left the campsite, walking into the woods with barely a nod to the others. Picking his way through the underbrush, he investigated the snares that surrounded the campsite until he found one had been tripped. A small grey rabbit lay entangled in the snare, struggling as it heard him crunching through the leaves. He carefully picked up the ensnared rabbit and carried it, still struggling weakly, into the forest. He walked for a few minutes, enjoying the peace and silence of the dimly-lit wood. Soon he spied a large fallen tree which would serve his purposes and hiked out towards it. The tree had fallen against the trunk of another, creating a gently-sloped rise of wood. Quaeros lay the rabbit across the tree and tied it down securely. He then unsheathed his sacrificial dagger and began to chant As he chanted and wove the ceremonial patterns in the air above the rabbit, he saw the rabbit struggle more and more desperately against its bonds as the chant neared completion. The ceremony was extensive, nearly an hour in length, and only at the climax of the ritual did he plunge the dagger down into the helpless rabbit. Quaeros could feel the blessing of Ronkel enter him and the sacrificial knife. He suddenly _knew_ the answer to his doubts; he had been right, his faith was strong, and his god was with him. The demon was wrong; healing others with stolen lifeforce was at least a neutral action, and it was his duty to return the unholy perversion of undead lifeforce to the true cycle of life and death. Feeling renewed an at peace, Quaeros returned to the camp, carrying the carcass of the rabbit. As he approached, he knew something was wrong. There was far too much activity for the early hour, and he warily hustled the remaining few hundred feet to the camp. Elanon lay on the ground, sweating profusely and babbling nonsense. Aleric looked up to him as he approached. "Poison. Can you do anything?" "I can do nothing for him, except possibly give him a quick death. My god is the poisoner, not the healer. Perhaps his time has finally come to be free from the strife of living." At this, Aleric glared and returned his attention to the prone Elanon. [ADMIN: Just for general information, I'll have net access over the summer, so I'll be available.] --------------------------------------------------------------------- Johann Hibschman | When in trouble, or in doubt, hibschmn@phoenix.princeton.edu | Run in circles, scream and shout. --------------------------------------------------------------------- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hibschmn@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Johann Allen Hibschman) Subject: [JOI] Reaffirmation of Faith (oops...) Message-ID: <1993May8.002416.21123@Princeton.EDU> References: <1993May7.211604.5576@Princeton.EDU> Date: Sat, 8 May 1993 00:24:16 GMT Just before dawn, Quaeros left the campsite, walking into the woods with barely a nod to the others. Picking his way through the underbrush, he investigated the snares that surrounded the campsite until he found one had been tripped. A small grey rabbit lay entangled in the snare, struggling as it heard him crunching through the leaves. He carefully picked up the ensnared rabbit and carried it, still struggling weakly, into the forest. He walked for a few minutes, enjoying the peace and silence of the dimly-lit wood. Soon he spied a large fallen tree which would serve his purposes and hiked out towards it. The tree had fallen against the trunk of another, creating a gently-sloped rise of wood. Quaeros lay the rabbit across the tree and tied it down securely. He then unsheathed his sacrificial dagger and began to chant As he chanted and wove the ceremonial patterns in the air above the rabbit, he saw the rabbit struggle more and more desperately against its bonds as the chant neared completion. The ceremony was extensive, nearly an hour in length, and only at the climax of the ritual did he plunge the dagger down into the helpless rabbit. Quaeros could feel the blessing of Ronkel enter him and the sacrificial knife. He suddenly _knew_ the answer to his doubts; he had been right, his faith was strong, and his god was with him. The demon was wrong; healing others with stolen lifeforce was at least a neutral action, and it was his duty to return the unholy perversion of undead lifeforce to the true cycle of life and death. Feeling renewed an at peace, Quaeros returned to the camp, carrying the carcass of the rabbit. As he approached, he knew something was wrong. There was far too much activity for the early hour, and he warily hustled the remaining few hundred feet to the camp. Elanon lay on the ground, sweating profusely and babbling nonsense. Aleric looked up to him as he approached. "Poison. Can you do anything?" "I can do nothing for him, except possibly give him a quick death. My god is the poisoner, not the healer. Perhaps his time has finally come to be free from the strife of living." At this, Aleric glared and returned his attention to the prone Elanon. [ADMIN: Just for general information, I'll have net access over the summer, so I'll be available.] --------------------------------------------------------------------- Johann Hibschman | When in trouble, or in doubt, hibschmn@phoenix.princeton.edu | Run in circles, scream and shout. --------------------------------------------------------------------- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [MG] A 'Kani Kitchen Indeed Message-ID: <1993May8.005956.930@data-io.com> Keywords: 'Raelf, Kardia, the lighthouse Date: Sat, 8 May 1993 00:59:56 GMT [ADMIN: Due to net delays, a note that this piece goes after the post by Kelly Cooper about the First Contact between the Travellers and the Onari. Thanks to both Kelly and Hutch for their patience and feedback, and to Hutch for his part in this post. It was fun... and, Hutch, you're welcome to my kitchen *any* time.] ---- Kardia was getting restless. The three explorers were now huddled talking about interface specifications. The concoction that ar'Elya had given her before the formalities was mostly gone, and she needed to go to the bathroom. She sighed and then blinked as she saw another 'Raelf standing by a hallway that led from the main room. He was motioning to her. She smiled, got up, and the three others didn't even notice her leaving. 'Raelf said, "Little Rat's just gotten herself comfortable in her room. They're gonna be at it for hours, so you wanna help with dinner? I cook a mean asparagus beef." "Chinese? Sure, I'd love to learn." Kardia laughed. "Well, there is a local analog to Earth Chinese food, kind of a halfway japanese halfway-thai slightly korean version. Called Etarusian food. The local restaurant, midway up Merchant's Hill, Yanigazia Purizshita, it's called. I got a lot of the sauces and things in the pantry from them, they work a little better with the local veggies and flavors." "Yeah," said Kardia, "I've been there, love the name, and really nice staff. Do they really have asparagus?" "Close. Cooks a little threadier, so its always chopped in bite-size bits. They have some really wicked smooth mushrooms, like chanterelles from Arkham Earth, but much larger and a less musky taste, has a tendency to be poisonous but I can fix that no sweat." "Hmm... wow." said Kardia, looking a little dubious. "Well, I guess to be safe I'll lay off on those. Never know how they'll work on a biochem like Jameson's." Kardia brightened. As they spoke, 'Raelf led Kardia into the hallway and then to the right. They went through a doorway and turned left immediately on going in. Kardia caught a glimpse of a dinning room to the right. "Uhm... is there a bathroom somewhere?" "Oh, sure. Go back to the hallway, straight across." Kardia walked back across the hallway and pushed open the door and stopped dead in her tracks. A modern, but differently styled bathroom, built for a number of people to use. A hallway into a tile floored and walled shower room. She stared at the showers for a while and then saw a cedar door with a small pane of glass in it along the far wall. She looked into a sauna. Another door led to a sunken whirlpool tub. And there were a number of sinks with shelving and bright chrome faucets. And glycerin soap in a transparent pump-top dispenser. She used the facilties with some wonder and definite longing for a real shower. She satisfied some of her sudden need for cleanliness by washing her hands and face in the sink. She then walked back to the kitchen a little better prepared for what might be there. The lighting in the kitchen was indirect and overhead, with work spots. No windows, but there were some pictures on some of the walls. Kardia grinned at photograph of apples, with one apple cut to show the innards of an orange. She idlely wondered if 'Raelf could grow something like that. There were also a couple rolling carts. At north end of the kitchen were all aluminum/stainless steel appliances. Kardia was rather proud of the fact that it didn't surprise her much after seeing the bathroom. An overhead air cleaning system to draw grease and excess heat away hung over it all, and the wall was lined with three ovens, two grills, a deep fryer and something Kardia puzzled over. 'Raelf noticed her puzzled look and with his hands deep in a bowl, pointed his elbow at them as he named them, "That's a three-tier Pizza oven, a circulating-oven, a large microwave, a bed-of-coals barbecue grill, a flat grill, a deep fryer, and a steamer tank." "Pizza gets made in something like that?" said Kardia in surprise, "Wow." She hadn't ever really thought of how they might be made, before. "Yeah, the pizza oven was something I bought. The rest is all part of the pro-chef package that came bundled with the deluxe environment setups. We hardly ever use it, but it's nice to have." Just south of all that a immensely thick wood table sat in massive repose, and next to that, a work area with an array cleavers and a tray of various seasonings covered by lids with runes on them. The far south end held a washing and a smaller cooking area, including a separate smaller, thick block table, a stack of bowls and pans, a six-burner stove setup with three large woks, a central drain and an overhead water hose for cleanup, a free-standing bamboo steamer unit and a free-standing smoker unit. Next to that area was a door that looked like it slid up into the wall. The east wall was just covered with thick doors. 'Raelf had his hands in a big bowl of gooey white stuff. "Why don't you start chopping the char siu? Then we can make up a whole batch at once." "A whole batch of what?" asked Kardia as she washed her hands. "Char1 sui1 bao1," said 'Raelf. "Cool!" said Kardia and then wrinkled her nose at him, "What's that? And what do you want me to do with what?" 'Raelf laughed, "You've never had them before?" "Nope." Kardia grinned, "Heck, I've never had real beef in asparagus beef, either." "Bogus! No meat?" "Nope. Meat's real... expensive where I come from. Usually not worth the price. Here it seems to be a part of everyone's diet. I like it, tastes a lot better than the stuff I've had, is all." 'Raelf muttered to himself as he worked the dough in the bowl. "Uhm... what should I do?" "There's chunks of red colored meat in the circulating oven over there." He pointed with an elbow. "Pull it out, watch out for the smoke, and slice it on the butcher block." "Butcher block?" she asked, half laughing. He grinned back and pointed with his elbow at the thick table. "Oh." she said, "How thick?" "'Bout so." he held up thumb and forefinger. "Half a cent?" "Right." Kardia ducked the smoke that was pulled up by the circulation fan, and looked in the oven, there was meat on a rack over a pan that smoked gently in the heat of the oven. She looked around. "You have any potholders?" "Oops." 'Raelf flashed in a spray of lights, and came back with potholders and clean hands. "Thanks." She took them and pulled the pan out of the oven and put it on her butcher block. She pulled a knife from the array of knives and a big, stainless fork to hold the meat down with and started cutting. 'Raelf, in the meantime, got the dough to his liking, and laid a damp cheesecloth on top, then put it on top of one of the ovens and washed his hands of the dough. He stopped to watch Kardia carefully slicing bits of meat from the big piece of pork barbecue with a small knife. "Here, try this." 'Raelf handed her a nasty looking cleaver. "Isn't that a bit... big?" Kardia looked at the wicked blade warily. "Nah. The weight makes the cutting easier. Try it. It'll probably work better than that paring knife." 'Raelf said and Kardia could see he was trying really hard not to laugh. "All right..." Kardia was amazed to find that the job was rather a lot easier with the bigger knife. She just had to place the blade and it's weight did most of the cutting, the amount of force she had to put behind it was nearly nil. 'Raelf was mixing things in a pot over the stove. Various strangely colored liquids from bottles, and spices from the rack. He had a graduated glass measuring cup of clear broth that he eventually added along with a white powder. Kardia finally finished her cutting, and said, "Done!" 'Raelf walked over and neatly picked up the pile by using one hand and the cleaver to scoop it all up. Kardia wondered how he didn't get cut by the knife, but it certainly was a fast way to do it. He dumped the meat in the thick, red-brown sauce he'd been working over that smelled wonderful and stirred until the meat was coated with the sauce. "Okay. Hmm. Normally the bread needs to rise for an hour but I want to do this fast, so ..." He reached up on top of the oven and flickered in a dizzy spray of lights, and pulled a second bowl of dough down from right where the first one was. The dough was risen fully, puffing up around the cheesecloth; it stuck slightly as he pulled the cloth off. "Nasty... It dries out if I don't put a cloth on it, but it always sticks to the cloth. I'd use plastic wrap but it won't recycle." He grinned at Kardia, seeing if she noticed what he'd said. Kardia blinked back at him, "Recycling... goodness, who recycles your stuff?" "The environment engine in the house recycles for me, but it doesn't like the plastics because they don't match the local tech levels, so it whines at me, or it would if I did that." He pulled as much of the dough off the cloth as he could. She laughed softly, studying what he did. "Hmmm... would foil work to seal the moisture in but not stick?" "I guess foil would work, or putting a moisture-field over it. Huh." Kardia grinned at him as he picked up the pot from the stove. "Too hot. Hm. <> That's better, should be cool enough to handle now." He set the pot down on the big butcher block. "Microwave refrigerator," he grinned at her questioning expression. She giggled. He went over to the steamer unit and picked up a stack of the steamers, carrying them over to the table. 'Raelf rolled out rounds of dough about as big as Kardia's hand, and then showed her how much filling to put in and then the delicate work of pinching the edges closer, closer, and then shut in a flower-like pattern on the top of the bun. She smiled, now this was work she could do. Quickly and delicately, she filled the buns with the salty sweet filling as 'Raelf busied himself with other items on their menu and put them on pieces of wax paper over holes in the steamer layers. "Now what?" asked Kardia as she washed the bits of dough that clung to her hands off. "Well, they're supposed to rise another hour, but I'm getting hungry out there, so I think I'll cheat again and pull them from down-time." He reached, and hefted up the steamer racks from where they sat on the end of the butcher block, leaving them behind while taking them over to the partly-empty steamer unit, then lighting the fire beneath it with a sharply muttered word. Kardia narrowed her eyes. "I thought cooks weren't supposed to take shortcuts. That's what Mother always told the chef." "Hurm. What she didn't know never hurt you. _All_ cooks take shortcuts. Except for apprentices. You have to make apprentices do it the long slow way. Fortunately I was never an apprentice so I got to cheat from the beginning." "Right." Kardia laughed silently to herself. "What's next?" "Hmm... here... you were so good at cutting up the char sui, why don't you work on these? The beef, slice it as thin as you can, the pork should be cut into threads, across the grain of the meat, like this..." A number of deft movements with the knife. "Do that to the sausages, too. This bowl of chicken should be done like this... and these green onions need to be flowered like this. The asparagus should be snapped like this, and then cut into bite size pieces." "Wow! That's pretty neat." said Kardia and got down to work. Occassionally she'd glance up and watch 'Raelf. He busied himself with a huge cast iron pot and an enormous bag of rice. He mixed the rice with water and washed it using a big whisk, and then measured more water in, added a drop of golden oil, and then set it on a big flame from the gas stove. He set up another pot with two kinds of rice and put it away. Kardia, in the meantime, was getting a blister between the big knuckle of her forefinger and her hand, the top edge of the knife rubbed there fairly constantly the way she was holding it for all the meat cutting she had to do. So she switched back to the paring knife, which she washed, to do the green onions. The aparagus was interesting to snap as all the spears snapped in different places, and she grinned when she used the ecleaver to chop it into pieces about four centimeters long. She found that it was actually rather easy to not get cut with the knife as she used the wide, flat blade of it to scoop things back into their bowls. Kardia looked up again, and found 'Raelf pulling plucked birds out of a refrigerator. She blinked, they'd been stuck over the necks of wine bottles. "What's that for?" she asked with bewilderment. "It's to let 'em dry. We could use salt to dry 'em, but I don't like having that much salt on them, so we just let 'em dry in the fridge for a day or two. It makes for a crisper skin." "Oh." Kardia watched curiously as he rubbed what smelled like alcohol on a couple of them and then put them in the oven. The others he put each in their own bowl and put them on layers that went into the steamer stack. Another pot went on the stove with stock and 'Raelf put all sorts of things into it. He moved the smaller butchers block near the stove and started cutting and shredding things almost at a blur and letting them gently plop into the soup. A chime sounded. "The bao should be done, you want to bring some of them out to the others?" "Sure." Kardia hopped over to the steaming unit and carefully pulled it open. Using hot pads, she took the steaming layers of birds off and then the layers that contained the boa. She put the birds back onto the stack. The bao came off of the others into a big bowl. There was one layer that didn't fit. "For the kitchen crew." pronounced 'Raelf with a grin. He peeled the paper off the bottom of one and ate half of it in a mouthful. Kardia peeled one for herself and took a bite, the tender softness of the shell combined with the savory sweet filling had her smiling. "Wow, that's *good*." she said, and polished it off. She took the bowl out to the main room, and got three distracted smiles and thanks. She grinned, walked back to the kitchen, and was greeted with a question. "You know how to de-vein prawns?" "Prawns?" Laughter on both their sides, "Here." The paring knife laid open the top of the small shellfish and a thick black line was pulled deftly out. "Oh. Cool." By the time she was done with that, 'Raelf was wrist deep in dough again. This stuff didn't smell the same way the other did, and he'd poured steaming hot water on flour to make it. He made rounds about as big around as raquet balls and about two cents thick, plastered one of them with shortening and slapped them together. He then rolled out the doubled piece of dough into a round and put it on the flat grill. It puffed up some, and he turned it over to show a lightly browned side, and it puffed up big. When the other side was done, 'Raelf pulled it off the grill and then pulled the two half-as-thin pancakes apart and folded them in quarters before putting them in a bowl in the steamer. "You wanna roll or bake?" "Roll please, I don't think I have abestos fingers..." "Yeah, I cheat. The cooks at my favorite Hong Kong restaurant did the same thing, though, I never did figure out why anyone would want to do this without fireproof fingers." They worked side by side for a while. At first Kardia was concentrating solely on the rolling process, but as she got better at it, she let her attention wander a bit. "'Raelf, where'd you learn how to cook like this?" "Hong Kong, and a little from Dave's mother." "Who's Dave?" "Well, me, sort of." He explained one of the more disturbing features of the 'kani biology, the requirement that they consume a living creature to adapt themselves to the magical qualities of the places they travelled to. Then he told of how he'd gotten to be Dave's friend and what had happened when Dave had flown and fallen and 'Raelf hadn't been able to get to him in time. Kardia listened quietly, just absorbing it, seeing something of how 'Raelf had felt at the foot of that cliff, at the death of a friend. She sighed and looked at him and saw a blonde man with multi-colored eyes, a single lock of his hair reflecting the odd colors. A medium-heavy, balanced build typical of a well practiced martial artist, along with the relaxed posture that went with a very easy-going attitude. Then Kardia looked again, harder, this time consciously looking with the sight that was blinded when he flicked away and back in less than an eyeblink. A feline-humanoid with fur the color of desert sands, wide ears, the wide face of a lynx around those ever changing eyes flipped another pancake with retractable claws. He had exactly the same posture and when she looked under the surface, she saw the lines of traceries of power that flowed through his hands. The edges of the figure blurred, and then she faced something myriad in its being. A boy-child, a flightless bird, an elf with two blades that were as much a part of his balance as his breathing, there were others as well, too numerous for her to note. She dropped out of that other sight to see 'Raelf looking at her. She blinked dazzled eyes at him. She rolled out another pancake, trying to find something to say. Finally, all she could think of was, "Wow." Then, slower, "If I... if you ever find me like that... could..." she grinned crookedly, "could you take me, too? Then you'd have an in to the world I come from." then in a rush, "It's an Awakened world, with more things happening in it than are known of, mysteries hidden beneath concrete and blacktop. Where glass and steel have a magic and life within them as well and the shadows are full of wonder as well as danger." At the surprised look in those multi-colored eyes, she blushed, laughed and then said, "But you'd probably hate it, no meat..." She furiously went back to rolling the pancakes out, wondering what in the world had prompted her to offer that to him. "hem." 'Raelf actually blushed. "I thank you for the offer. Your homeworld sounds intriguing. Do you really know what you're asking?" She looked up at his question and listened with wide eyes to his next words. "To become part of another person, to join the 'kan race as a child of my clan, this is a pretty big thing. You would be a valued and precious addition to any of the clans, you know, and not just because of your skills with the grounding magic." Kardia blushed brighter at the praise and then swallowed to answer his question, "I, um, I'm sure." "I'll give you my promise, then, that should you find your life cut short before you're done living it, and if I or mine are near, that we'll offer you a place among us if we can." She nodded, wordless, then smiled a brilliant smile at him and went back to her work. ----- Hutch (Combinatorial posts are such fun) hutch@ibeam.intel.com -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader From: kjc@aramis.rutgers.edu (Kelly J. Cooper) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] First Contact Keywords: Prolific? I can't even begin ... Message-ID: Date: 7 May 93 00:51:55 GMT "The prime directive forbids interference in the internal affairs of other cultures. It is our most important law." -James Kirk "Momma never told me there'd be days like these. Strange days indeed ... most peculiar ..." -Beatles ------------------- "Welcome to our lighthouse." The scent of lilacs poured into the room from the garden beyond. The early-evening shade made the enclosed courtyard a rainbow of dark-purple and darker-green, when the gentle glow from the jeweled mosaic of the warding-spell caught fire and began to cast its own light over the interior. Jameson breathed gratefully of the garden. She missed flowers. 'Raelf, ar'Elya and Kardia passed under the archway and Jameson, following behind, first scraped the dirt from her walking boots on the grating before passing through. Automatically glancing to the right she swung off her over-jacket and began to hang it on the coat rack, only to hesitate a moment ... it was so hard to feel, well, safe. Settled. Not about to bounce through a gateway to distant places, different people, leaving anything behind that she didn't remember to tie to her body. There had been that wretched month without shoes on rocky shores, um, 600 years ago or so. She'd had to modify the bottoms of her feet to heavy nearly nerveless thick skin. And a very cold couple of days minus her jacket. She'd burned a huge number of calories maintaining core temperature. When had that been? She had taken to sleeping with her arm wrapped through the straps of her pack since the time her atmospheric had bounced her out of the burning hostel in Playa. Should she ... could she? ... leave something behind now? In real time, it looked like she paused for a moment while her shoulders clenched briefly then relaxed before she dropped her jacket on the coatrack, beside Kardia's pile of belongings. Two long strides caught her up with the others. The inside wasn't typical Generican architecture. There wasn't a lot of clutter, for one thing: no fancy carved furniture, sticking out from every available wall because the closet hadn't been invented; no intricate, patterned carpet imported from Rameshan, concealing a polished wood or stone-transformed-from-mud floor. There was a cobblestone-floored walkway surrounding a sunken, plush-carpeted area, which was stocked with overstuffed sofas and chairs, footrests, arranged to allow either privacy or access to the View. A black oak cabinet, hip-height, stood between two of the sofas, and a brazier style fire-pit, empty but with wood prepared, waited in the center. There was no obvious place for the smoke to go, and no stain on the walls or ceiling. Beyond the sunken area, a single plate of glass, or something very like it, showed an unobstructed view of the west: the Great Blue, the Harbor of Generica, the sea-wall extending out on the north side, the surf and turbulence of the scattered rocky shoals below, and a heap of clouds on the horizon, scudding south, promising an early summer sunset to set the skies on fire. Kardia's face, on seeing all this, showed a homesickness so intense that it was almost painful - the others politely avoided intruding. She, in turn, moved to the glass wall, and stood watching the ocean and sky for a while. Ar'Elya opened a small cabinet on wheels, black oak, one of only two pieces of purely wooden furniture in the place, and a pitcher, prepared and iced, and four heavy-bottomed near-spherical glasses, with only a fairly small opening at the top. She began to prepare some sort of decoction using the contents of the pitcher, and a few bright-colored pieces of fruit from a dish in the cabinet. Meanwhile, 'Raelf had gone sprinting up the ramp that spiraled around from the entry into the ceiling, then come back down a few moments later carrying a bundle under one arm. Kardia turned back towards the room at his reentrance, took one deep breath and quirked a smile at his haste. "Sorry - I know this is kind of lame, but I didn't have time to set this up before, had to leave before we got here." He began by taking the bundle apart, revealing a sort of tripod made of rune-carved staves studded with gems and filigree, connected in the center by a ring of brightly silver metal, and connected around top and bottom by a web of finely spun wire that tightened when the staves were spread, but followed a curve that wasn't there. A small bowl was placed in the center of the tripod, down by the metal ring, and an incense-cone placed in the bowl. "When we're ready to start the formalities, I'll open up a commlink to the Travellers' College so we can get a record of the agreements and set up some secondary contact plans." "Lovely," Jameson said vaguely, nodding and staring at the ocean. She accepted the drink offered her, looking curiously at it for a moment, then smiling and sipping delicately at the straw. The drink was a mixture of fruit juices, seltzer, and a very small amount of a mild and harmless euphoric, and was very refreshing. Kardia sank back into a sofa, sighing blissfully, enjoying the wash of sunlight through the window, and sipped. 'Raelf fiddled some more with the tripod contraption, and with a gravelly whisper, <> the incense began to smoke, quickly creating a perfect sphere of pale grey smoke almost five feet across, resting exactly on the tops of the tripod-legs. When the sphere completed, it began to change colors very slowly, shading first into yellow. <> - the sphere flickered, and filled with an image: Traveller, the Gold Elf who ran the WorldGate service. "'Raelf. What can I do for you?" "Please set up a direct-connect for me. Traveller's College on ssCh'Sch'CH'kan, initialization code -First Contact- please." The Elf blinked, then moved off to the side, the image not tracking him completely. After a moment, the Gate began to whirl blackly in the background, then the image vanished as a different face appeared, an insectile torso, the creature retreated enough to be seen clearly. It was something like a praying mantis, but its eyes sparkled with ever-changing views of starfields. <> (Jameson watched from her vantage by the window, Kardia from the sofa. The conversations were happening in an impossible language made up on one side from the sounds of water, wind, earthquake, and on the other, the hiss of stellar radiation and the background noise of excited hydrogen. Somehow, listening without judgement, the meanings of the words came through.) <> <> <> The mantid clicked its jaws in satisfaction. <> <> The mantid's antennae quivered with shock and its eyes whirled. <> The mantid did something with two of its fore-hands and a chime sounded. <> <> ar'Elya smiled, while 'Raelf quietly explained this fact to Jameson. Looking up, Jameson set her drink down and nodded mutely at 'Raelf. She stood and moved to the sphere. The mantid observed her closely, but she could recognize little of its body language. She looked over her shoulder at 'Raelf. "Can Traveller hear me? And, can we set up a separate viewer, or split screen this one? I don't want to put your contact on hold." "No problem," 'Raelf said, and spoke in the same strange speech: <> In the usual three-and-a-half dimensions of human perception, the tripod was replaced by two tripods each half the size of the first. One still held the image of the mantid, flickering in fields of frost and ivory as the waves of change rippled slowly through the Contact room in the Traveller's College; the other held the image of the Gold Elf Traveller, who nodded to Jameson. "I hear you." She said softly, "Traveller? Jameson W. Walker. Please send a speak request direct-link to the coordinates I give you, Galactic Standard 2." "Hold please, Jameson Walker. 'Raelf, please provide conversion for Galactic Standard 2, coordinate system is not known to my daemons." "You don't have a UT? Bogus! Comin' your way, dude." 'Raelf flickered briefly, appearing in the screen with Traveller, and handed him a lens that glowed with a whirl of milky light, then waved at them through the commlink and vanished. Jameson shook her head and continued, "Designation: Walker, specific: Jameson W., delineation: First Contact, particular: Meta, delineation: upload, particular: maps. Mark." She let out a breath and took another one before singing the long string of coordinates, her voice rising and falling, punctuating the first number of each set. When her song died away, there was silence, then a distant <>. Then, more clearly, "Accepted transmission. First contact proceedings in progress. Greetings Walker." Kardia was surprised to hear a language common to shippers being spoken. Gradually a figure took shape in the sphere, lines and shadows gradually resolving themselves to the compact upper torso and head of what looked like a traditional dwarf, but with a fuller and shorter beard. His eyes and beard were both dark brown. He raised his left hand, three fingers and two thumbs spread, in greeting. Jameson returned the gesture and smiled. "Greetings Cail. I'm glad it's you. I am requesting Elder Grimin to oversee the contact and The Mi-Hay grol-Re as First Witness." Cail inclined his head slightly. "Elder Grimin is on his way. The grol-Re was contacted as soon as your transmission was cleared. She should arrive at the same time as the elder." He paused briefly, "A Meta, Jameson? We thought they might exist, but we never expected..." he trailed off. "Are you sure?" Jameson nodded. Cail looked incredulous, but left the topic for another, "You are nearly at the fifty mark, Walker. Preparations were being discussed for retcon." She smiled slightly at Cail and said nothing. Almost as the silence became awkward, an old Onari male stepped into the room. Cail bowed and backed away from the console. Elder Grimin approached and grew larger in the sphere. His beard and eyes were a very pale shade of brown, mostly blond. "Jameson. This will be a great honor. Verification?" Jameson bowed slightly, then performed a complicated greeting gesture. "I am sure of it, Elder. We have contacted a Meta. They thought you... us, a myth." Grimin nodded then smiled slowly. "We have thought the same of them for a long time." He paused, "We worried about you, Elder Jameson." "Please, Elder Grimin, I am not a member of Council." Jameson protested, looking almost frightened. "Walker..." He was interrupted. "JAMESON!" The Walker's head snapped upward and she caught sight of The grol-Re, face wreathed in smiles, approaching the console from behind Elder Grimin. "Re! It is good to see you." Jameson's own smile grew at the sight of the energetic leader of her adopted clan. The female Onari in question sketched a formal greeting to the elder and took her place beside him. Her hair was pure white, and her eyes held only the slightest tint of blond. "Jameson. It has been too long." The grol-Re's tone now was quieter and both she and the Elder looked at her expectantly. If Jameson had been raised by parents, she would have found the spectacle highly ironic. "Elder. grol-Re. I ... became lost." Jameson's jaw tightened slightly. The Elder began to express concern, but The grol-Re held up a hand. "Do you need recall?" Her tone was even, betraying no judgement. Jameson took one breath, then two. "No." She looked into the eyes first of the Elder, then The grol-Re and smiled genuinely. "I became found. It has simply been a difficult journey. Are the preparations complete?" Cail, partially off-screen, did something with both his hands. "I think we can begin." Both venerables nodded. Jameson held her hands out, palms upward. "I, Jameson, as a Walker of the Mi-Hay clan, do claim First Contact rights with the Travellers, Meta-race," at this The grol-Re looked almost shocked, "and fellow mappers. I waive Expert Rights in favor of Cail, my <>," Cail's eyes widened, "First Contact rites are about to be performed and recorded by both races. At the completion, there will be an exchange of data. I am uploading to both you and the Travellers. Once the formalities are completed, I entrust you to continue the Contract proceedings for the service of all Beings. An even exchange of information has been negotiated and will be ratified. Ever walking." The grol-Re and Elder Grimin both murmured, "Accepted. Ever walking." Cail was still staring at Jameson with a slightly glazed expression. He snapped back to attention and said fervently, "Accepted. Ever walking." Elder Grimin opened his hands, "Greetings to the Travellers. We are honored. Jameson, you have our <>." The voice of the mantid came through, translated to a pleasant neutral humanoid speech in the same shippers' common-tongue: "World Gate Nexus-prime-prime1, contact coordinates have been logged, we are initiating second-order linkage, to complete and link after first contact has been registered. Syncronicity established." Jameson stepped away from the globe and turned to the 'kan. She bowed slightly to 'Raelf, her eyes never leaving his. She repeated this gesture to ar'Elya. She winked at Kardia then composed herself and spoke in a ringing tenor ... "My name is Jameson W. Walker. Jameson is who I am; Walker is what I am. I am a Walker for the Onari, The People of the Maps, We Who Search for the Shape of the Universe, They Who Seek the New. I am an Emissary. I am also known as <> among the Mi-Hay, the tribe of my Teacher. Our coordinates are distant and our databases vast. I formally greet you 'Raelf and you ar'Elya of the Travellers and extend the grasping-unit of cooperation and mutual benefit." 'Raelf and ar'Elya bowed in return, holding gaze, and ar'Elya spoke. "I am ar'Elya, thirty-ninth of sept `en' of Hunter clan 'lyand, Traveller of the roads beyond, also called Reflecting Stone. I act as Emissary for the College of Travellers of the not-Food of the Place Which Falls Apart Our coordinates are unique and our databases growing, and I formally greet you, Jameson W. Walker, child of Mother, and extend the grasping-unit of cooperation and mutual benefit in return." 'Raelf looked sideways at ar'Elya, and muttered. "You had to do the full high translation, didn't you." He winced, and began. "I am 'Raelf, twenty-fifth of the true line of Hunter clan 'Raelf, heir to the spear of the hunter and the place of returning, also called Curious Wanderer. I act as Emissary for the College of Travellers, for the race known as the 'kan, in the Place called ss'SCHcsh'kan, the Place Which Comes Undone. As Emissary I offer you in free exchange our coordinates and our databases, and formally greet you, Jameson W. Walker, and extend the grasping-unit of cooperation and mutual benefit." He smiled weakly and gave an I'll-get-you-later look to ar'Elya, who simply blinked slowly and returned him a gaze of pure innocence. They stepped forward simultaneously, touching hands together, then broke the grip and returned to their places. Jameson smiled and knelt to open her pack. "Now, toybox time." She pulled out her deck and untangled the goggles, hanging them around her neck but not plugging them in. The case was black and made of something that wasn't only plastic, nor only stone, nor only glass. It was embossed with a myriad of tiny bumps of script in hundreds of different tongues. Stepping back to the globe, she set the deck down on floor beside the brazier. Kneeling beside it, she passed her hand across the top and what looked like a lens revealed itself in the center of the top. Jameson cocked her head to one side and her eyes dropped to half-lid. A soft glow resolved itself above the deck. Gradually it focused to reveal a star map with the familiar skies of Nexus above it. It rotated slowly to display stars farther along the hemisphere of the eastern continent. With a soft sigh, Jameson allowed it to resolve itself into a completely different configuration. The display began flipping erratically through a sequence of maps and focusing on a particular galaxy, then a system and finally a particular planet, seeming to rush toward them only to stop abruptly and hover, whirling slowly. It was dirty brown in color. "My home," she whispered softly. Then the maps began to flip again, none of the images remaining long enough to make an impression on the retina. Finally, it stopped on another image. "Onari." She opened her eyes slightly to look at 'Raelf and ar'Elya. "In some cultures, the most dangerous thing you can do is show someone the way to your home." She smiled strangely and continued, "The Gateways between Worlds are marked according to what they do and the level of stability they maintain. The maps are linked by star coordinates, thus creating the not-quite-seamless whole. We use the folds of space almost exclusively. The Onari have little ability for inter-dimensional nor magical." She looked back at the deck. The image blurred and resolved again, in many colors, a detailed elevation map of the eastern edge of the Great Heath and parts of the Mysty Mountain range. It shifted gradually East and the tiny figures of a man, a giant, dragon and some numbers appeared beside one of the shorter mountains to show scale. More abruptly this time, the view shifted once again to a detailed scheme of the interlocking network of paths, roads, and byways that criss-crossed the swatch of land between the mountains and Generica. "Roads. You asked for these, I believe? I have the entirety of area mapped all the way to within a few hundred miles of the East coast of the continent. They're yours, part of the exchange, under one condition. Do not give or sell any maps with this much detail, except by your discretion. We believe rather strongly in allowing locals to despoil or maintain the mystery of their own worlds as they see fit, without our help." She smiled and moved her right hand. The display disappeared and she took a deep breath and leaned her head to the left, then the right to stretch her neck muscles. "Transfer conditions logged and accepted," ar'Elya replied smoothly. "Our own conditions are that you not provide our maps and travel routes to persons who are unable to comprehend the hazards of following them. All hazard information is logged and tagged." Jameson nodded. Meanwhile 'Raelf was whispering to his deck. It sprang to life, projecting its own sphere of illusion in the air. "Here we go. I've mapped the local coords-set to my astrolabe so the correspondence will be meaningful to you. At first, anyway." The starmap appeared, lines and annotations still present in it. After a few moments, the star-marks began to grow, expanding as spheres, with the center of each sphere marked by a symbol which somehow communicated its meaning to the observers: Corah, the heat of battle; Rendai, love's proper focus; Jardah-planet, ruler of the rulers. The spheres began to overlap, and the view backed away, showing a complex twisting foam whose overlaps began to make up a twisting image somewhat like DNA and somewhat like the insides of a Mandelbrot function. A line appeared, leading from a small nexus point marked with a beacon to another marked with a gate. Then from the gate, a whirling line went off and around, as the structure twisted and folded upon itself, a red line that managed to completely avoid contacting any of the spheres. It curved, or the structure curved, to contact another nexus, this one at a frayed end of the structure, which grew more and more detailed, as the line grew closer: it was another solidity where the spheres came together, but instead of forming a line, they flickered in and out of connection, as the one sphere whose overlap held them together, fluctuated back and forth in the imaginary space holding the spheres. The line terminated at a nexus marked with a carillion. "The hard way home," 'Raelf said, scratching his arms. "I'm allergic to that route - it's a wormhole, y'see. I'd go via this other path." The deck reset to Generica, then flickered a green line from the beacon-nexus and out along the curves of the spheres, skipping in and out from the solid parts along what turned out to be a relatively straight line, ending up at the carillion-nexus. "There are faster routes," ar'Elya indicated, pointing as one flickered before them, a yellow line crossing through four spheres. "But more boring and much more hazard involved," 'Raelf replied. "Right." She smiled. "Right." He considered kissing her neck, and decided it would look bad on the First Contact log. <> came a satisfied hiss of static from the sphere displaying the image of the mantid. The sound changed again to the pleasant intonations of the translation. "The coordinates for the Onari are now in our databases. Honor to the Travellers who bring knowledge to our convocation. Elders of Onari, we greet you in the name of the College of Travellers and in the name of the 'kan. Our probe spins across the layers of reality to your emmisary halls. Sing to us, we ask, of the place where our probe may meet with a communications mechanism of your own." The grol-Re spoke then. "Emissary of the Travellers, har'ekChik, we return greetings for the Onari. Please send your probe to our communications locus at heliopause, coordinates to follow." She sang, a clear wavering tenor, the location of a communications relay that sat in space above their sun. "Onari, prepare for secondary contact." In the second sphere, where the Onari were shown, the one called Cail began speaking through another communications linkage. "Relay station four, prepare for incoming visitor." "Acknowledged." On 'Raelf's deck display, a glowing pulse began at the nexus marked with a carillion, and shot out across the emptiness where there were no spheres, arching back to an unmarked nexus of a half-thousand of the lines where spheres intersected. Light bloomed there, and it rapidly expanded, with blinding flashes, hundreds of tiny symbolic annotations, finally freezing to show a small glyphic representation of a walking man, inscribing on a map. "Relay station four reporting radiation anomalies. Cail, there's a wormhole appearing four marks heliotropic of our position." "Observe, station four." "There's something coming through the wormhole. It's a crystalline object, resembling a moth. The wings are changing shape - the thing is holding position in front of our third backup antenna bank. Cail, it's sending data packets in a shift-standard notation. Our translation units are handling it. Patching through - it's issuing a communication request for your offices. Please explain." "First contact has been made, relay station four, we're preparing to exchange maps. I have to go now, the communication request has just come through here. Jameson, are you still connected? We have contact, do you wish to make further communication at this time?" "Not today, Cail. I'll contact you soon." The sphere which held the Onari communications went black, and with a sidewise twist, it vanished, returning the original to its larger state. The two 'kan turned to Jameson, and 'Raelf spoke. "So, we can set up some kind of translation on our end, maybe exchange a few basic symbols. You OK with that?" Jameson smiled. "Of course. Do you want to keep your phone off the hook while we do that?" She pointed to the communication spell sitting atop the tripod, still watching them in Record mode. 'Raelf grinned, and waved at the black sphere. The mantis returned, inclining one antenna. <> he asked, and the mantis replied, <> <> He moved to close the connection, but the mantis held up one claw in negation. <<'Raelf - congratulations, old friend, on thy new clan.>> <> He touched the sphere, and it popped, the smoke vanishing. --- Hutch (Combinatorial posts are such fun) hutch@ibeam.intel.com Liralen Li | "What you feel can make it real aka Phyllis Rostykus | real as anything you've seen..." li@Data-IO.com | - Peter Gabriel, _So_ Kelly J. Cooper kjc@cs.rutgers.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu (Daniel Steven Reinker) Subject: [blade] Meshtak makes peace with his Gods, II Message-ID: <1993May8.205301.24364@cheshire.oxy.edu> Date: Sat, 8 May 1993 20:53:01 GMT Meshtak was helping the priests of Joyla care for the refuges, and gradually they began to accept him despite his furry form. Then he noticed Chip enter. Chip held forth a weapon, and Meshtak's heart leaped for a moment, thinking it was his shift sword. But a closer examination revealed it to be some other blade. As he worked, his eyes kept drifting to the line of requesters. Finally, he sighed, and entered into line. He didn't really know what he would request; he was fairly sure he would be ignored anyway. By abandoning Antakantus, he had pretty much lost any chances with Joyla, the God's human equivalent. Grot, for all he knew, they were the same God. Meshtak was ignorant on the subject of Gods. He waited awhile, and finally, it came to be his turn to enter the requesting circle. The priests closed the curtain around him, and a magical light appeared above him. It was supposed to be representative of the light of Joyla, that little Meshtak knew. but otherwise, Meshtak was ignorant of the ways of the Gods. He didn't know what to do, whether he should kneel or not. Finally he did so, dropping uncertainly to the ground. Now, what would he request? Well, if Joyla was truly related to Antakantus, he knew one thing he could ask Her. "Joyla All-Bringer... I am Meshtakalanamus Slayer-of-the-First-Numpka. I...well, if you can find Antakantus, or whether you are the same...I would like knowledge of my tribe. Do they still survive in Drotshava?" Moments passed. Meshtak didn't even really expect an answer. When the light changed, becoming slightly dimmer, he thought it a trick of the priests. But then a voice spoke to him. "Joyla is not your Goddess, draga. Neither is Antakantus." Meshtak considered if it was a trick of the priests. "It is not a trick, Meshtak." the voice spoke again, startling him. "I know thee as I created thee. You are mine alone, Meshtak. While all the Gods are to choose a champion, I have chosen thee." "Champion...of who?" Meshtak said. "What creature ARE you?" "Not a creature. A God. You may call me Wyrminkamanus Seeker-of- Wnknown-Truth, for that is my name to dragas. I am God of the strong- weak. When Demiatt slew the great Krovon, I was there. When Tyrygia withstood the invasion of the Demons of Vool, I was there. When a badger brings down a bear, I am there. You, Meshtak, are my champion." "And how do I serve you?" asked Meshtak, still stunned. "You merely do, Meshtak. Your tribe fares well, thus have I answered your question. Now continue on your mission; I shall try and withhold the Freezing which often suspends you." "What Freezing? What is my mission? What am I supposed to do?" Meshtak asked. But he received to answer, and he felt an aloneness. He WAS alone. The God had left him. As he stumbled from the requesting booth, he noticed a stretch of vine twined around his leg. He took hold of the vine, and felt a familiar shifting in it. With a thought, he turned it back into his shiftsword. Then back to a vine, then back to a sword. The first non-weapon shifting I've seen it do, Meshtak mused. The work of Wyrminkamanus? Meshtak shook his head, still unsure of his strange experience with the God. Meshtak didn't really follow any Gods anymore, much less was he the champion of one. So he believed. Meshtak the Draga -- "You can't help that. We're all mad here." - The Cheshire Cat, Alice in WL "Twisting under schizophrenia/ Falling deep into Dementia" - Metallica Subscribe to the CJ mailing list! Send e-mail to dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu. Include your e-mail address!!!! MagicHutchHeader From: jclifford@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (JEN/CLIFFY) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] Saving grace Message-ID: <1993May8.173029.5159@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 8 May 93 17:30:29 -0400 _She was climbing the steps, going to her lesson. Maybe *she* will let me learn the fire spells soon...the earth spells are getting boring. Well, there are air ones, too. Maybe *she* will teach me to fly..._ Someone jostling her, moving her from the warm coccoon of sleep. "Laurenth, wake up!!" Darkin shrieked at her ear. "Wha-- Huzzat?" Laurenth mumbled, fighting to go back. "Elanon's been poisoned! He's dying! *DO* something!!" Darkin demanded. Laurenth sat up and blinked. She saw Elanon writhing on the other side of the fire. Jumping up, she reached for her waist pouch and ran to him. "What happened?" she asked Quaeros tersely. "He got hit by a dart. The dart's been poisoned. I don't think he'll make it, we can just make it easier for him--" Quaeros said. Aleric glared at Quaeros again. "Can you do anything, Laurenth?" "Let me try!" Without waiting for an answer, she turned back to Elanon. Think rationally, she told herself, what first? The dart. With a practiced yank and a fleeting prayer it was out. On examination she saw that it had been dipped in something. I just hope it doesn't work on skin contact, she thought. What next? Stop the blood. She dumped her pouch and began rummaging through the pile. Darkin's eyes widened at the number of cut stones Laurenth had. She selected one, a smallish brown stone shot with red. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to calm herself, and laid her left hand on the wound, holding the stone in her right. Elanon shrieked. So did Laurenth. As the bystanders watched, the wound the dart had made slowly closed. The stone in her right hand crumbled to dust. She opened her eyes. "It's done," she said thickly. "What did you do? What about the poison?" Aleric asked, eyes narrowed. He poked at the dust left from the stone. "I transferred the poison to the stone. It can't hold it, so it shatters. The wound I healed from my essence. It will take a couple months for him to fully recover. He should wake tomorrow. If he complains of aches--and he will--give him some of this tea." She had been looking for something in her pack while she was explaining what she did. She gave a small pouch to Aleric. "I'm going to sleep. Wake me when he's alert." Laurenth stumbled back to her bedroll. _A moment-- another-- *there*!! *She* did it!! I have the spell to fly!! A younger Laurenth raced down the stairs, reciting over and over her prize. She could hardly wait to get outside to practice..._ [admin-ish] So...that's all 'til January...have a great summer and a better semester...au 'voir a p.s. of sorts... Mr Sinister...what made the fair maiden blush so??? (insert *MY* evil laugh...) jen/cliffy jclifford@vax.cns.muskingum.edu Let the rock be Rolling...(is it beer, or is it Proust? *YOUU* decide!) MagicHutchHeader From: hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu (Rapunzel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [JOI] You people are SO unorganized... Message-ID: <1993May8.174943.5160@vax.cns.muskingum.edu> Date: 8 May 93 17:49:43 -0400 [ADMIN] Okay, I'm serious this time. I am now really leaving for the summer. Jason, don't kill Aleric... (just kidding. I trust you...) For several hours Aleric slept restlessly. Sometime near dawn, he woke and lay there, staring up at the sky. The faint traces of pink were just showing, heralding the coming of the sun. He raised himself on one elbow and looked around the camp. Ildamar had nodded off on sentry duty sometime during the early morning. He was hunched near a stand of young fir trees, head on his knees. Where was Quaeros? He wasn't in his blankets. The others seemed to still be sleeping. Elanon was sitting up looking around the camp with a glazed look on his face. A slight buzzing noise sounded briefly. Aleric scanned the area looking for the source of the sound. He couldn't see anything out of the ordinary, but he could have sworn the buzz sounded like an arrow with loose fletching. His attention returned to Elanon as the man's voice began to grow louder with unintelligible babblings. Aleric's eyes fell to Elanon's side and noticed the dart poking from between his ribs. Aleric vaulted to his feet and dashed across the camp to Elanon's side. The dart had made a clean entry into his side, but the way he was reacting to it suggested he wasn't even aware of it. That only could indicate poison. Aleric looked up to see Quaeros approaching. Quaeros raised his eyebrows in silent query. "Poison. Can you do anything?" Aleric asked. Quaeros shook his head. "I can do nothing for him, except possibly give him a quick death. My god is the poisoner, not the healer. Perhaps his time has finally come to be free from the strife of living." Quaeros replied. Aleric glared at him and returned his attention to Elanon. Figures, a death cleric is no help here. Darkin had woken by this time and was shaking Laurenth awake. Laurenth was not quick to wake up. By the time she woke, she ran to Quaeros's side and asked what happened. Quaeros explained the situation to her quickly. Aleric, remembering Quaeros's response, glared at him again as he spoke to Laurenth. "Can you do anything, Laurenth?" She acceeded and attempted to heal Elanon. By using some type of stone, she healed the torn flesh of his side. Aleric frowned and asked her what she did. He poked at the pile of dust that was all that remained of the stone. Laurenth explained her actions and gave Aleric a tea to make for Elanon when he woke and complained of pain. She then returned to her bedroll and tried to go back to sleep. It had been a rough night for all of them. Aleric covered Elanon with a blanket and asked Darkin to keep an eye on him. "Oh, and before I forget, Darkin... Here. I still have your daggers. I removed them from the demon's corpse before I buried it." He handed the daggers over to their owner and turned on one heel to go add more wood to the dying fire. Someone would have to make breakfast for the group, and he may as well do it. There were also plans to be laid. It was evident the group wouldn't be able to go anywhere for a while until Elanon healed. Besides, had earned a well deserved rest after fighting what must have been the entire population of the underworld. After the ship and the most recent demons, there couldn't be too many more available down there just yet. Aleric began rearranging the camp for a prolonged stay. He'd be damned if they were to have an unorganized camp if they were staying there for any length of time... [ADMIN] So long all. Cliffy and I are off until we return from France and Spain, respectively. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac169@Freenet.carleton.ca (Darryl Farr) Subject: [JOI] Hot Pursuit! Message-ID: Date: Sun, 9 May 1993 01:44:12 GMT The companions were still shaken after dispatching the reaper demon, who had infiltrated the camp in the form of a cloaked humanoid, but the general consensus was that sleep was the most important thing, after the excitement of the evening. Eventually, everyone dropped off, except Ildamar and Segoi, who had been selected for guard duty. *How could I have been so blind!* thought Ildamar, as he turned his back to the fire and peered into the bush, which now seemed full of hidden dangers. *It looked... harmless! How could I not have seen its nature.* One thing was certain: whoever summoned that creature was powerful enough, not only to summon it, but to cloak its evil so effectively. As he stared into the darkness, Ildamar felt a faint, mournful music calling to his soul. It was the call of Solinari, the White Moon of Krynn, reaching him despite the incredible distance. He listened to the song, remembering his homeland, longing to walk among the lush forests and warm beaches of the tropical isle. Concentrating on the beautiful, intricate melody, he became drowsy, and gradually nodded off. In his dreams, he felt the sand under his feet, and the warm sun on his face... "Elanon! Something happened to Elanon!" The loud shout broke Ildamar's reverie, and he snapped back to consciousness. He blinked the sleep from his eyes, and his heart leaped as he saw his old friend writhing and shouting at the river's edge. There was a dart protruding from his side, its red fletching clearly visible. Ildamar heard a faint rustle in the bush, not far from where Elanon lay, in tortured agony. He leapt to his feet and started towards the sound. Arriving at the spot, he saw a small, faint footprint in the dew-damp ground, and a tuft of black fur clinging to a burdock nearby. Torn by his desire to help his friend, and the need to catch the attacker, Ildamar paused. Seeing Aleric and Quaeros attending Elanon, and Laurenth heading over, he decided on the latter option. Checking his daggers, Ildamar crouched and inspected the print. It was small, much smaller than a human's foot. There seemed to be small claws at the front, and a sharp heel. Looking in the direction that the culprit had fled, he noticed that there were no disturbed branches above waist-height. Standing, Ildamar followed the path for several hundred metres, where it seemed to disappear at the base of a large elm tree. Ildamar looked up, into the foliage, and was just in time to see a small, black form leap to an adjacent tree. He unslung his bow and unwrapped the string, quickly looping it around the staff. Drawing an arrow, he followed the form, which demonstrated amazing dexterity, practically flying from one tree to the next. Eventually, he approached a small clearing, and heard a high-pitched voice, which seemed to be vehemently cursing in some harsh, foreign language. Ildamar ducked as an acorn flew down at him, narrowly missing his head. "You! You go! I no bother you! You leave Nagi alone!" Ildamar looked to the source of the voice, and saw a small humanoid, about a metre tall, with large, webbed ears and thick, black fur covering its body, save for the face and hands. It appeared to have a long rod strapped to its back, which was caught between two branches. "You're stuck, it would seem. Why should I leave, when you have attacked a member of our party, and fled? Tell me why I shouldn't just put an arrow through you?" Ildamar called, hoping to bluff the small creature into giving away some useful information. Nagi screeched loudly , and started to tug furiously at the branches, his head swiveling rapidly between looking at his work and staring frightfully at Ildamar. "No!! You no kill Nagi! I tell you good stuff, but you no hurt Nagi!" Realizing that Nagi was too frightened to talk, Ildamar reslung his bow and started climbing the tree. As he drew closer to the screaming creature, Nagi started to shriek and claw at the tree, his eyes growing wider and wider. Ildamar was about 3 metres away when Nagi let out a final scream, which tapered off into silence as his eyes drooped, and his head lolled to one side. Ildamar reached out and touched the small humanoid, and Nagi's body trembled in fear. His heart was pounding, and his pulse was like a trip-hammer. He had passed out. Chuckling at the irony, Ildamar took out his dagger and sawed at the wooden rod connecting Nagi to the branch. It was hollow, and had obviously been used to deliver the dart to Elanon's side. Carrying Nagi by the straps used to hold the blowgun, Ildamar slowly made his was back down from the tree. As his feet touched the ground, he patted the tree's bark and thanked it for its help. Following his own path, Ildamar then made his way back to the camp. As he emerged from the forest, he saw Elanon, now motionless, lying on a pallet, with Aleric tidying up the area. The companions looked up as he entered the clearing, staring at the small form suspended from his hand. "This is the creature that attacked Elanon. From what I've seen, he's no demon, and was not operating on his own initiative. And no, he's not dead. He fainted when I caught him," Ildamar said. "So, what is he? And why isn't he dead now?" asked Darkin. "I don't know what he is, but I'm not going to kill him. He claimed to have information that could lead us to whoever or whatever's been after us. He probably knows what was on that dart, and if I knew that, I could probably concoct an antidote," answered Ildamar. "Laurenth took care of the poison, no thanks to Quaeros," said Aleric, looking sideways at the death cleric, who did not seem abashed. "Elanon should be okay in a while, but we can't move him for a few days, so we'll be staying here." "Still, I would feel better knowing what that stuff was. Magic can't fix everything. If we're staying here, we'd better set up some defenses. Our enemy knows where we are, and they'd probably like to see us stay here forever." Just then, Nagi stirred, letting out a small groan. "I think we'd also better see this little fellow tied up before he wakes. He'll almost definitely try to run." Finding some rope, they tied Nagi's hands together, and stuck the blowgun upright in the ground, effectively constraining his movements. Ildamar, Aleric, Segoi, Alarond, Quaeros, Darkin and Kyar all gathered around as Nagi's eyes fluttered, and his arms tugged against their bonds. His eyes shot open, and his head started to swing rapidly, taking in the sea of faces surrounding him. Emitting a faint peep, he promptly passed out. [ADMIN: More to come...] Darryl Farr (aka Ildamar of Anaiatha, the Blue Boy Scout) -- --{ Darryl Farr }{ I can get a job, I can pay the phone bills } { The Grey Man }{ I can cut the lawn cut my hair cut out my cholesterol } { ac169@freenet.}{ I can work overtime, I can work in a mine BNL: } { carleton.ca }{ I can do it all for you... but I don't WANT to! _Enid_} MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [WTRT] Blood-lust, Part II Message-ID: <1senbmINN30l@news.gac.edu> From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Date: 7 May 1993 22:20:38 GMT There is a silent scream of mental anguish. 'NO! I WILL NOT FALL AGAIN!' Thorr-kan sees a group of shadowy figures above him. He cannot make them out, but his mind screams danger. And then, agony rips through his stomach. *** The goblins had been marching for several days. There was not much game in the area for some reason, and hunger was overcoming them. When the tribe stumbled onto a ragged group of humans, it was a gift from One-Eye himself. Gnumsh scatters his warriors among the fallen. No doubt they will have food and water. Perhaps there will even be some of the metal that humans value so highly. Anything to make this hellish journey easier. The goblin chief's thoughts are interrupted by a yell from one of his underlings. "Hey, boss! We gots a bull-man here. What we should do?" Gnumsh swears aloud. Trouble like this isn't welcome and isn't needed. "Is he still alive?" asks the goblin chief. There is a huge creature on the ground before three of the warriors. It is almost half again as tall as one of them. Trouble for sure, thinks Gnumsh. "Dunno," comes the reply from Lugg, one of the dimmer tribesmen. He raises a spear. "Can find out." "Do it," the chief commands. "We don't have time for this." Lug takes his stone spear and drives it into the minotaur's stomach. With a scream, the creature blurs into motion. *** Danger! screams Thorr-kan mind. And PAIN! There is only one way to deal with danger: kill it. The White Minotaur lurches to his feet and grasps the spear in his stomach. His first move yanks it out; his second sends the goblin holding it face first into an oak thirty feet away. Gnumsh takes one look and hollers, "Kill the damn thing!" The two surviving tribesmen move in to follow his command. One raises a battle-axe and takes a swipe. The other moves to his left, trying to get under Thorr-kan's reach with a short-sword. A red tinge has settled across the eyes of the White Minotaur. There are enemies on the field and a battle to be fought. Thorr-kan sidles away from Battle-Axe, pivoting so Short Sword will not get behind him. He swings a fist, making Short Sword duck. Battle-Axe takes another swipe, this one sliding through the minotaur's kilt and into his thigh. Thorr-kan just smiles and begins to advance. Another swipe at Short Sword sends him dancing away. Thorr-kan lunges at Battle-Axe, catching the haft of the axe with his left forearm and punching out with his right. Battle-Axe's face implodes under the blow, bone, blood, and brain running together over Thorr-kan's fist. The goblin crumples to the ground. Short Sword sees an opening and rushes in. His blade strikes Thor-kan's right armpit, burying half of the blade. Thorr-kan pivots again and catches the surviving goblin with a bite that nearly severs an arm. Short Sword falls, screaming his life out. Meanwhile, Gnumsh is flabbergasted at how easily three of his warriors have fallen. He backpedals three steps and turns to run. He barely gets a dozen feet before he feels a bite on his neck and point of pain in his back. The goblin's entire body goes numb as he falls to the ground. A hissing green reptile is his last view before the afterlife claims him. Gleep finally found a chance to strike. Just behind the fallen chief, the minotaur realizes no one faces him. Grunting, he pulls the short sword from his chest. "Weapon," he grunts, and goes looking for more enemies to slay. -Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur ****************************************************************************** Peace through strength! Victory through annihilation! Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu (Mister Sinister) Subject: Re: [JOI] Hot Pursuit! Message-ID: <1993May9.193030.24591@ultb.isc.rit.edu> References: Date: Sun, 9 May 1993 19:30:30 GMT Calm and emmotionless, Segoi watched Ildamar run of and presently come back with his strange catch. As they all gathered around, Segoi stood in the background, silent, and waited to see what would come of this. As Nagi passed out, he gave a "humph" and turned back to guard duty. Mr. Sinister... MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] The Wide Open Spaces Date: Sun, 09 May 93 18:07:07 CDT Message-ID: <16BC9FECB.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu> Keywords: [AU] Andrea Sheryl unicorn gallop transition Andrea only stopped when she was on a hill overlooking the city. She turned, looked back, and Sheryl plopped down on the ground to rest. "Yes, this is much better..." Andrea muttered. "The air is clear, the grass is green...and it somehow feels SAFER." Sheryl nickered, slightly out of breath. Andrea sat down beside her, set the pack aside, then lay on her back, looking at clouds. Together they rested for a time, then Andrea stood. "Come on..." she said. "I want to get a little farther away from the city." She shouldered the pack and started running north. Sheryl followed. And then something happened. At first, Andrea's right hand felt oddly cool. Then her load felt lighter all of a sudden, and she felt strangely light-headed. Then all she wanted to do was RUN. Two unicorns galloped silently across the plain, manes and tails streaming behind them. Both were the purest white of all unicorns of legend, with bright blue eyes, shining silvery-white horns, and a stride the envy of most horses. Across the plains they raced, over hill, through forest, as the sun grew higher in the morning sky. In the lead was a tall mare--her eyes reflected the sun's fire as her hooves struck sparks from the occasional pebble on the ground. Behind her, struggling to keep up, was a young filly who looked much like a smaller version of the other one. As she raced after her larger companion, there was at once a look of happiness and yet also of worry on her equine face. Toward noon, the two 'corns came to a halt near a small stream, and stepped forward to drink. After they drank their fill, they trotted over to a stand of trees to rest in the shade. The larger 'corn dozed off, while the smaller one watched her nervously. Andrea slowly woke up, feeling sore in every muscle of her body. There was a cool throbbing sensation around her right hand that was rapidly fading, and her back ached too. Opening her eyes, she noticed that she was lying on her back, and her backpack was pressing into it something fierce. "I must have fallen over..." she thought, standing up. "Now where..." Then she gasped. She let the pack slip from her back, and then collapsed back onto the ground. "Where the hell are we?" Andrea looked around. Generica was nowhere in sight. She was lying under a tree near a brook, in the middle of a vast open plain. Tall grasses waved back and forth in the gentle breeze, and fluffy white clouds floated overhead in an azure sky. There was a nicker from beside her, and Andrea looked over at Sheryl. The young 'corn looked pretty lathered, as from a long run, and her mane and tail were in disarray. She also looked rather worried. Andrea realized that she was soaked in sweat herself. "What's going on here...?" Andrea shook her head. "Oh, gods, I ache! And these sweaty clothes feel awful." She grinned. "At least there's a brook nearby..." So Andrea took a bath in the brook. Sheryl kept a lookout for any strangers coming near, and Andrea kept her Dagger of Resource strapped to her wrist, as well as her other weapons on the bank closeby. As it turned out, Andrea's ablutions were uninterrupted, and after washing her clothes, she felt more human once more. Then Andrea unceremoniously dumped Sheryl in the creek and scrubbed her ("It's been too long since you had a bath, girl."), then went over her with a currycomb and brush. Sheryl nickered softly under the treatment, and when Andrea was finished, she found that she'd worked out most of the soreness in her muscles. With nothing else to do, Andrea gathered some deadwood and made a small cookfire, of the nearly smokeless variety (from habit). She got out some rations from her backpack and fixed herself a meal, while Sheryl grazed nearby. "I don't know why I'm so hungry," Andrea said to herself. "I had such a big breakfast today..." After lunch, for lack of anything better to do, Andrea and Sheryl sat under the biggest tree in the small copse, a sturdy oak, and gazed off into the distance for lack of anything better to do. Andrea sat against the trunk, legs flat on the ground, and Sheryl lay down at her left side, so Andrea could pet her while she sat. "How did we get here?" Andrea asked, half-closing her eyes. "Too bad you can't talk, or you could tell me." Sheryl nickered. Andrea blinked. Within that nicker, she was sure she'd heard the word "gallop". She opened her eyes wide, snapping back to full awareness and sitting bolt upright. "Huh?" Sheryl nickered again, but this time it didn't make any sense. "Huh," Andrea said, leaning back against the tree once more. "Must have been my imagination." -- Chris Meadows || Andrea & Sheryl CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || [AU] thread, alt.pub.dragons-inn CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || -------------------------------- CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || A supporter of rec.arts.creative MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Pitzar][yes,again] Foreign Correspondant Message-ID: <1993May10.005954.16136@organpipe.uug.arizona.edu> From: corleyj@argon.gas.uug.arizona.edu (Jason D Corley ) Date: 10 May 93 00:59:54 GMT Keywords: Chandler Raymond Maltese Falcon Samuel Spade [ADMIN: Yes, I got net access back. Yes I am back to do newspaper articles...if you want an article or advertisement (expensive!) in the _Generican Examiner_, mail me at corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu. When we last left Jake Pitzar he was riding a wave of despair out of town.] The storm hadn't made it up here, up north near little towns like Muddy Flats and Edgewater. The stones on the road jabbed up through the worn soles of my boots like knives into a luckless victim. The fields were long, even rows on either side. The crops were golden rippling waves shining bright in the blazing hot sun. I stopped in Poultice, clomped heavily into the only pub in town, the room dark and cool after the hot dry air outside. There was nobody there but the barkeep. "Hello, stranger!" he said. "Hello. I said. "How about a wine?" "Three silver. Brewed it m'self, mister." He set a wide-rimmed mug on the table. I handed him my last coin. "Give me some food too. For the road." He pocketed it and walked out, back into the kitchen. I was alone in the dark, I couldn't hardly see a thing, slouched on a hard worn wooden stool sipping the sweetly harsh taste of the blackberry wine slide down my throat like a blazing fire. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, leaning my arms onto the moist damp wood of the bar. I thought I heard a voice outside, but before I even turned my head I knew it had just been my imagination. The barkeep sauntered back in carrying a cloth package. "There's a hunk of cheese, some bread and some sausage in there. Ought to last ya a couple of days anyway." He put it on the counter next to me. "Thanks," I said. "Hey, where is everyone?" The barkeep snorted. "Off hunting. Some idiot thinks he sees a unicorn and suddenly everyone's dropping everything to look for it." I knew what I should do. I should have nodded, maybe chuckled a little, picked up my bag and kept walking, getting as far away from the city, and the paper, and her, and me, as far as I could go, all the way to the edge of the world, and then over the edge, just get up and walk away. But I didn't do that. "Where'd they see it?" I asked. Before he could answer, I knew I would be finding it. I knew I would find the unicorn. I knew I would write about it. And I knew I would be going back, someday. The city loomed in my future like a blazing bonfire of torchlight. The barkeep said "Off west of here, off by the Mill Stream. Actually, out on the edge of the pasture right next to the mill." Under his voice, I thought I heard another voice, low and sweet, from outside, but there wasn't anybody outside. I knew that without looking. The blackberry wine slid down as smoothly as a sword into a sheath. ------------------------- Mr. Heartwell, Just wanted to let you know I am fine and on the trail of something interesting. There's been another unicorn sighting, up here near Poultice. Maybe it is related to the ones in the city. I will write more as I find it. I'm sorry I walked out so quickly but I had to leave in a hurry. Do not worry about the Guard, it was not a legal matter (this time ha ha). I guess that is all. Jake ------------------------- -- (1) Ignorance of your profession is best concealed by solemnity and silence, which pass for profound knowledge upon the generality of mankind. -------"Advice to Officers of the British Army", 1783 Jason "corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu" Corley is thought to be armed and stupid. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@lamar.ColoState.EDU (Alan Smith) Subject: [No Thread Yet] Gathering... Message-ID: Date: Mon, 10 May 1993 03:13:38 GMT References: <16BC9FECB.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu> [ADMIN: Apologies for misusing the Spitting Cobra. Oh, and Jorma, I left a good jumping-in place. 'Supose we should decide on a thread name.] Palandun found himself talking to one of the 'Buffer children, Ja'nis insisting on guarding him against this dangerous foe. She stood tall and imposing over the pair of them, Palandun was squatting so he could talk on more equal terms. "Neg." The child said, answering Palandun's 'Do you understand?" "He means no." Ja'nis said. "I gathered that." Palandun said, then turned his attention to his informant. "You know what a rat is, don't you? Furry things this long to this long, with hairless tails and a tendancy to squeak?" "You mean Biters? Like that?" He pointed to an alley where a Big rat was waddling off on an errand. The child's name told Palandun more about the socioeconomic conditions of this part of the city than the largest treatise would. "Yes, I mean Biters. Where can I find them?" "Know loc pos biters?" Ja'nis translated. "Yeah. Loc classed, tho. Got vals? How 'bout those 'jects?" "Hooey. That place isn't classified and you know it." Palandun said. "Neg bought." Ja'nis said. "Paladin, you want to speak his language?" "Loc classed!" The child said emphatically, "Mats neg want fils bit!" "Fer cryin out loud." Palandun said to himself. "Here y'go." He pitched a few sheckels at the child. "Now lead on." He did so, and soon enough the three of them found themselves at a garbage dump, where the little organic material the 'buffers did throw away in the nearest blocks found itself. Old signs saying 'Beware the rats' and 'No Children Allowed.' Still stood. Palandun theorized that they couldn't date from much later than the formation of the Buffer zone itself, before the last educated people pulled out. The dump itself was a large pile of dead and rotting refuse in a square completely enclosed by buildings. An adult buffer was seen entering across the way, dumping his bucket, and swiftly beating a retreat. Where the newfound trash landed, a swarm of rats the size of small to medium-sized cats descended upon the pile. There were more rats than there was food, though, and soon a small scuffle broke out. Two rats were wounded and the rest stayed away while the victor, a grey one the size of a half loaf of bread, took his fill. Then the others descended, there was another scuffle, and the process repeated. "Lets get outta here." Ja'nis said, her voice cracking. "Sure." Palandun said, "I've seen what I want. Good work, kid." and he handed the young one some more sheckels. "You're not going to go back to that place, are you?" Ja'nis said, finding herself once again in the more familiar terrors of the regular low city. "Of course." Palandun said, "It's a perfect Rat City. There was this experiment-" "Don't tell me, please." She said, covering her ears. "I need a drink." She said, entering the nearest bar. 'Hmmm. 'The Spitting Cobra.'' Palandun thought, 'Cheerful name.' Ja'nis ordered a Rum Surprise and Palandun asked what was on the menu. Being told 'Grakma,' he decided on a Rum Surprise himself. On tasting the R.S., Palandun was surprised, the drink's diviancy being completely different from what he had expected. "There's no rum in this!" Ja'nis exclaimed, pegging what Palandun had not been able to pin down. "That the Surprise." the...er...one tending the bar replied. Palandun thought it comical, and pitched in a couple-sheckel tip. Ja'nis wasn't so lighthearted. "I want some real rum you pipsqueak!" She said, grabbing the barkeep from across the bar. "Now serve it up." "I Sugob, not pipsqueak, and I in charge here!" The barkeep said. Ja'nis just snarled. "Hey, chill!" Palandun said, intervening. "'Tell you what. I'll buy this drink. Sugob, would you please get the lady a Rum without the surprise?" Neither took their eyes off the other, but both resumed a more barlike attitude. "Lady, we don't let people muscle the help in here." A voice said. Palandun turned to find a man, fully as tall as Ja'nis and rather bulkier. "It's okay." Palandun said, "Just a little misunderstanding." "I don't want to hear it outta you, pipsqueak." The man said. "You are going to let him call that you?" Sugob asked. "Yes." Palandun said. "Don't worry about what people call me, worry about tending bar or I'll take my tip back." Sugob hurridly pocketed the sheckles and served up the rum. Ja'nis quaffed it ('twas rum this time) and stood up. Orclike beings moved to cover the door, the man didn't move. "Apologize to my friend." The man said. A hurried conference with Palandun got her to do so, but hope of a peaceful exit was dashed when he told her to kiss Sugob. "Oh, c'mon!" Palandun said, making a last hopeless stab. "Isn't an apology enough?" This caused the large man to sieze Palandun, and imediately drop him to cover his ribs. Palandun dropped his eyes and socked the man a good one in the nose. The nearest Orc chose that moment to advance with a drawn dagger. "Blade!" Palandun shouted, abandoning the man for Ja'nis to deal with. The orc, with typical orcish stupidity chose to make a direct stabbing attack. Palandun diverted the blade into the wood of the bar. A kick and a forarm-jab sent the Orc sprawling. The other two advanced drawing shortswords. You may have read somewhere in a biography of Palandun that he spent time in the Bismanian army, fighting in two of the Orc Wars. He had been leaning on the skills he picked up there so far in this fight. You may also have read that Palandun owned a sword, Gynsoo, which he picked up in the army. This he proceeded to draw, and then drop to one knee as the two Orcs made overhand swings at his head. Palandun parried with his sword, stood up, and made a grand sweeping parry of their next stabs. He pinked the left one in the hand, causing him to drop his sword, then turned his whole attention on the right hand orc, blocking another slice and stabbing him in the thigh. The injured orc was carried off by his two companions. Palandun turned to see Ja'nis finishing off the man, using a one-two combination that brought him crashing to the floor. "Let's bail." Palandun advised, wiping Gynsoo off and restoring it to it's sheath. (Later that evening, the four would report to the covenman, who would tell them they were lucky to be alive, then refuse to go into how he knew, merely staring at his missing left foot and fingering his empty scabbard.) "You're not going through with this, are you?" Ja'nis asked for the fifteenth time that day. The two were walking along the arcade of unforgotten heros, "Yes, I am. I just wonder how I'm going to handle all the... Dangit, I need an assistant!" MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Feasts and Celebrations Message-ID: References: <1993May8.005956.930@data-io.com> Date: Mon, 10 May 1993 17:53:50 GMT The dinner bell rang. It was ignored, the three working on the details of what they were exchanging and how and where, were much more interested in continuing their fascinating exchange of maps and routes and civilizations. The cooks waited, impatiently. Kardia looked at 'Raelf, shrugging. "Are you always this hard to distract when you're working?" "Nah. Watch this." He walked over to his doppleganger, who moved aside unconsciously, still concentrating on maneuvering the map settings through a complicated display. 'Raelf-cook knelt down and put his hands over his double's eyes. "Guess who." "ARG!" 'Raelf-mapping shouted, and shoved off backwards, bowling his other self over backwards. Both of them came to their feet in an identical back-roll, one grinning, the other slightly peeved-looking. Then he started to laugh, and vanished. The remaining 'Raelf, the one who had been cooking, spun and caught the other one as he appeared out of thin air behind himself, and threw the other at the floor. He missed. After a few more exchanges, ar'Elya cleared her throat. "Hey, come on, 'Raelf, stop playing with yourself and get back here." "NO can do, lovely lady. Our guests need their dinner, besides, the decks already have the protocols, they can finish the exchanges by themselves." 'Raelf-cook laughed as his other self swung a fast staff strike over his head, which he avoided by spinning out of the way and countered with his own staff, appearing from nowhere, with which he returned the assault, howling, while across the way he ducked, "Ho! Haha! Guard! Turn! Parry! Dodge! Spin! Ha! Thrust!" "TOING!" yelled his counterpart, putting his hand vertically by his nose. They began duck-walking across the furniture, whacking at each other with staves in a loud but ultimately ineffective way, at which point ar'Elya looked to Jameson and Kardia. "Shall we dine now?" -0----0- The dining room was set with a pleasant welcoming atmosphere. Lilacs from the garden were glowing in the centerpiece, and four settings were laid, a pale ivory china decorated with hand painted ivy leaves around the rim overlaying a grey marbled ring, no gold trim. There were ivory-and-inlay chopsticks at each table, and large ceramic spoons with flat bottoms. A service cart sat beside the table, laden with steaming towels and a covered tray. ar'Elya accepted a towel from 'Raelf who was standing by the cart in a position of quiet attention, dressed in a tux coat over his hawaiian shirt, which got him a raised eyebrow from ar'Elya. "Please feel free to freshen up before we dine," she said to the others, as a semi-flushed 'Raelf came in behind and gave his counterpart a lopsided grin. He wiped his face and hands with the hot cloth and helped seat the others when they finished. "Oh, menus!" Kardia smiled at the small folded cards in front of each of the four places. hot and sour soup steamed chicken with lily buds asparagus beef ma po bean curd fried prawns in shells duck with imperial sauce fresh fruit The covered tray on the service cart was opened, revealing a large, deep bowl and four smaller bowls in the ivy-china pattern, nested together. 'Raelf-waiter served the soup, a sharply sour, intensely spicy concoction filled with long thin slices of crisp vegetables and some kind of meat. They all enjoyed the soup in relative silence, only exchanging a few politenesses. The sunset waned to the west, visible through a woven lattice window. 'Raelf-in-waiting cleared off the bowls and spoons and set out plates, then presented three steaming-hot service plates with different foods. He quietly moved the service cart into the dumbwaiter and closed it behind him. "So," Jameson asked quietly, while the rice was being passed, "What exactly is the nature of your contract with Dasham?" She was answered by 'Raelf-at-table. "It's kind of complicated. See, as far as I can tell she's under a very subtle kind of geas. She's convinced she's cursed to wither and die of old age before the year ends." Jameson blinked, eyes narrowing in thought. "Is she really?" Kardia asked. "As good as." 'Raelf passed a broad oval serving plate, scalloped edges holding in juices. The plate was covered with walnut-sized chunks of steamed chicken and odd twisted bits of some vegetable, tied in little knots, and mushrooms and bits of a translucent aromatic ginger. "She's been using a drug that prevents aging," he continued, "but it takes special preparations if you use magic, to keep it from turning poisonous. So she can't use it, and her age will catch up with her in about three years." "Are those really lily buds?" ar'Elya asked, pointing to the twisted knots mixed in the dish. "Local variety. More perfumey smell but kind of peppery aftertaste," 'Raelf replied, "but the mushrooms are dried clouds' ears." "Lovely." "The first time I met her she used a mind-ripper probe on me." Jameson said neutrally. Kardia blinked. "Was that what she tried on me?" "Most like," 'Raelf said. "She did the same at me, got snagged in my killer-death wards from hell." "Your what?" Kardia grinned. "wards frin gell," 'Raelf replied around a mouthful of asparagus beef. "Manners," ar'Elya admonished, the glint of a steel ruler flickering briefly in her left hand. 'Raelf swallowed, and took a sip of the tea to clear his throat, as ar'Elya continued. "He uses a system of magical defenses of unusual efficacy, but they have their drawbacks. They consume far too much power, and they can injure anyone who tries to penetrate them. As I recall, Dasham didn't get past them." "Well," 'Raelf said, teasingly, "She didn't want to get too _intimate_, love, and you know I have my scary side. Besides, the memory of dying got in her way." Jameson murmured almost noiselessly to herself, "She's afraid." 'Raelf allowed his teeth to show in something like a smile. He reached for the ma-po bean curd and spooned a portion over his rice. There was a period of silence, while mouths were busy with food rather than conversation, punctuated by murmurs of appreciation. After a few minutes, the first meal course was mostly gone. "Did she ever go after you?" Kardia asked ar'Elya, toying with a bit of chicken. "Ah. Yes." ar'Elya's customary equipoise boke for a moment and a moment of sheer menace showed through. "I went in later the same day, to register as a visiting archmage. By some accident my dragonets got loose and ate all her standing probespells and wards. Very sad, she had to spend a day and a half redoing them. She never did get around to investigating me personally. Rafe talked me out of doing anything else, but if she _ever_ tries to hurt him again, ..." "Raye, please, I wasn't ever in any real danger." He managed to look embarrassed and flattered at the same time. "It's the principle of the thing." 'Raelf-in-waiting returned from the dumbwaiter with the service cart, and cleared away the remains of the first three dishes and laid out clean plates for everyone. Then he opened the covered service tray again and laid out a number of flat bread-pancakes, and small dishes of an aromatic brown sauce next to another dish of green baby onions sliced into little flowers. Then he laid out two plates, each with the boneless carcase of a duck, cut up into little squares but laid out in the general outline of the original duck, with the crisply browned skin on top. They started rolling up the pancakes, anointed first with the brown sauce, then a square of duck, some of the onion, and the crisp skin, made into little tubes like scroll cases, folded on the bottom. Conversation died briefly again, in favor of eating. After a while 'Raelf-in-waiting brought out a platter of thumb-sized shrimp, fried with a mixture of peanuts and vicious dried red peppers and garlic and shredded purple, red, green, orange, and yellow bell peppers and long thin shreds of orange peel. Just enough of them to happily fill in the forgotten corners left after the rest of the meal. "Well, we have a light dessert," Kardia said contentedly, feeling almost more full than was comfortable. A bowl of sliced peaches was presented. 'Raelf grinned again. "You know, if Dasham knew the legend about these, she'd be banging at the door trying to get in." "Peaches?" Jameson asked, tilting her head to the left, blinking, then tilting it right. "Old Chinese saying, `Eat a Peach, Live Forever'" The words echoed strangely, ricocheting off parts of Jameson's mind. She was being pulled in a half-dozen directions, hooks shooting from her flesh, something dark coiling itself through her brain. Quietly, without comprehending, she knew she would be feeling this as agony in a few seconds, but then the sensation faded and she paused for a moment, wondering what she should be remembering. She looked around, curious. She was lying on her back, on one of the couches in the large room. 'Raelf was slipping an amber gem amulet back inside his shirt, and ar'Elya was speaking into her handset datalink. "Are you all right?" Kardia asked, removing a damp rag from Jameson's head, and helping her to sit up. "Yes." Jameson looked strangely at her hands. They didn't feel ... right. She looked up at Kardia, then the others, "I'm not sure what just happened." "Some sort of feedback," ar'Elya replied, "through some sort of magical tagging spell you are carrying. I think it belongs to Archmage Nescie." "It does. He put it there to warn him, in case Dasham tried to follow up on her original assault." Jameson tentatively stood, tensing various muscles carefully before putting weight on them. All systems were within operating norms. "She thinks, or thought, that she could use me. She apparently could tell I was older than I looked." She smiled wryly and rubbed her neck, "Nescie wanted to protect me." "Sensible. Something else must have got tangled into it, because something serious just happened at the Mages' Guild and the feedback knocked you out." "What could have done that?" 'Raelf came over from where he'd been standing by the door. He was in the process of donning a severely modified wetsuit. He paused to pull on his poncho and a pair of hakama, then his visor. His boots flared blue and a set of glowing disks appeared beneath his feet, on edge; he balanced easily on them, gliding backwards towards the doorway. "Supreme Archmage Delalle was just destroyed." He pulled the gloves tight and touched the join-and-seal rune on each. "And I have to go back and make the presentation that may well have triggered events that led to his destruction. And I can't do a damned thing to prevent it." He rolled backwards out the door and vanished. -0 0 0- Kudoes etc. to Kelly J Cooper and Liralen for help with their characters. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu (christopher motherway) Subject: A quiet walk Message-ID: Date: Mon, 10 May 1993 18:47:48 GMT ADMIN: This is a seperate post from the [AU][Housestorming] project. Since Andrea and Sheryl's author will be out for a while, Lance and Blaze will need to do SOMETHING, right? Anyway, once he's back, all posts in the string will go through him. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - One breezy afternoon, Lance and Blaze decided to take the time to go for a walk. They left Generica through the East Gate and did not stop until they reached a grassy hilltop, the same hilltop they spotted Generica from when they first arrived. The couple then sat down and view the sun as it started to set across the sea and behind Generica. This was the first time Lance had to truly relax for quite sometime. The image of Raoh laughing at his face still haunted his dreams. And the news that one of his henchmen was alive somewhere did not help. He had heard Andrea's scream and had question her about it. But the only answer received was that she would take a walk. He was not worried, though. Andrea could take care of herself, and so could Sheryl. He just needed this time to wipe his mind clean and think about nothing but the quiet, serene scene before him. As one of the Royal Guards of Wolverton, Lance hardly ever had the chance to relax. And the last time he did, the king had been usurped. But he did relish the times where he could let his mind wander free. Sometimes, he would compose a song or two (although, this time, he had left the mandolin at the Inn). This time, he thought of his father, how he saw him while dead, and how he knew that he understood his feelings. Lance than looked at his mate...so beautiful, as always. He never could remember the day when he finally learned that he truly loved her. He could not help but smile as he turned back to the sunset. Blaze enjoyed these quiet times as well. It gave her time to let her energies flow within her. Her father had told her that, when the magical energies pass through the body, there was not hardly anything that could compare to the feeling. Blaze had to agree with him this time. For the energies were those of love; love of life, love of the earth and, primarily, the love of Lance. She turned to her mate and said, "Beloved, are you...happy here in Generica?" Lance hesitated his reply. saying, "Well,....well, yes. Yes, as a matter of fact. I DO like it here." Blaze sighed a bit of relief. "Oh. You see, I thought that... well,...after all, when we first came, you were not too thrilled about staying..." "True, but...I have grown used to this place already. In a way, it reminds me of Wolverton. Everybody here is friendly, even when cautious. And they are quite happy with the town, even with the storm damaging a good part of it. And you, dear? Are YOU happy?" "Oh, yes, Lance. Not even Bevillsca could take this fair city's place." For a while more, they said nothing. Blaze rested her head on Lance's shoulders as they watched the ships casting shadows across the sun. Lance stroked her long hair gently. Then Blaze spoke again, softly. "I was at that house, Lance. The one Andrea spoke about. I did not go in, but I felt a powerful evil there. The last time I felt evil like that was when we face Raoh." Lance answered softly, "Fear not, my love. Once Andrea is ready, we will take care of whatever 'bugs' are in there. Even the evil ones. After all, is that not why we started travelling?" The couple looked into each other's eyes and smiled. Then they kissed, a long and passionate kiss indeed. They would watch the sun conclude its trip into the horizon, then return to the Inn for dinner and a good night's rest. They would also hope Andrea returned soon. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Blood-lust, Part III Message-ID: <1smgpeINNqj8@news.gac.edu> From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Date: 10 May 1993 21:17:34 GMT >Just behind the fallen chief, the minotaur realizes no one faces him. >Grunting, he pulls the short sword from his chest. "Weapon," he grunts, and >goes looking for more enemies to slay. Six other goblins are scattered among the clearing. Two are searching the body of Roger and arguing over his katana. Three others have been trying to divide the spoils from Wanderer. The sixth is busy acting as a projectile. The minotaur had taken a lone goblin by surprise. Expecting his chief, the creature hadn't even bothered to turn towards the sound behind him. He died from his carelessness, his neck broken under Thorr-kan's grasp. The body goes sailing across the clearing, impacting on Thorr-kan's biggest threat: the two with bows. One of the archers dies, crushed. The second barely avoids the same fate by searching Roger's pack at the right instant. Thorr-kan follows at a sprint. Throwing the body brings agony from his chest wound, but, for some reason, he can ignore it. Pain is already fading under a strange warmth and blood not longer flows. Somehow, that does not seem right... The tribesmen know that their fellows are dead, and that the beast before them is probably the reason. Survival is at stake now. Three spear-carries form a ragged battle-line; the archer drops back and nocks. A snarl escapes from the minotaur. He cannot reach the primary threat! Setting a portion of his mind on guard, he turns his attention to the insects in front of him. With only a short sword, they actually pose a challenge. Thorr-kan feints right, testing his enemies. He blurs into motion: a thrust here, a parry there, a dodge somewhere inbetween. But no matter how hard he fights, wherever he moves, a spear always blocks his way. The goblins are reluctant to close. But if they can keep the beast occupied long enough... Thorr-kan has steadily been giving ground to spear carriers. His battle-rage is more hindrance that help now. Hot anger builds, blocking thoughts of tactics or technique. All the minotaur wants is to KILL. Somewhere, a goblin prayer is answered. The archer had finally collected enough wits to get off a shot. The results are impressive. An arrow slams into the minotaurs right shoulder. Another skips off his horn. A spear slips through his guard, catching on a rib. One more arrow whips into his left leg. A roar of frustration rises from Thorr-kan. 'Death be damned! These insects will pay!' comes the red-tinged thought. Ignoring the spear-wielders, the minotaur cocks his arm and throws. His short-sword sails through the air, glittering in the light. Transfixed, the goblin archer finds death stuck in his throat, his skull split. The victory costs Thorr-kan. He takes another jab to his wounded leg. Trying to dodge and get a little more room, the minotaur stumbles. A goblin, bolder than the others, leaps forward at the opportunity. Like his chieftain, he falls to an invisible bite and sting. Gleep appears over the fallen minotaur, berating him loudly, then fading away again. Thorr-kan can make nothing of this creature. But his attention is quickly drawn away. The minotaur needs a weapon of some sort. Perhaps the halberd that tripped him will prove useful... He grabs onto it, rolling away from yet another spear-thrust. As Thorr-kan's hands close about its haft a coolness comes over him. Red-tinged vision shifts slowly to a gray. At the back of the minotaur's mind, a calmness starts building. A power from the weapon flows into Thorr-kan's arms. It feels...right, somehow; he does not question it. As he rolls to his feet, he re-assesses the situation. Two goblins remain. They will be easy meat. The halberd snaps to the guard position. A spear-thrust is deflected up to the right. The second is caught by the blade and shattered on the down stroke. The minotaur spins completely around and slams the head of the halberd through the unarmed goblins's chest. Thorr-kan yanks his weapon free as the creature falls. With a ferocious bellow, he swings a final time. Goblin halves fall far apart. The minotaur stands for a moment, then removes the arrows. Immediately, the wounds close and start healing. Thorr-kan's mind is in the midst of the same process. Somehow the battle was wrong. But it is over. A weight settles on his shoulders, and he recognizes the scent of a friend. Slowly he is becoming the White Minotaur again.. However, something still keeps Thorr-kan on edge. The Horn of Justice is still radiating. Turning his mind and senses lose, Thorr-kan slips once more into a fighting stance. To a casual observer, there would seem no difference between this being and the killing machine present just minutes before. Said observer would only be partially right. The battle-rage is there; but now, it is harnessed to a cold and quick rationalness. This control is the fine distinction between a master warrior and a mindless fighter. A hiss sounds from his shoulders. Gleep, too, senses a wrongness. Warrior instincts focus on one of the fallen humans. He is rising from amidst the corpses with a strained and wild look. A Power animates this human. Who or what he was is no longer important. A challenge is issued. The Horn flares in response and the White Minotaur nods grimly. Kiri-Jolith has not forsaken him. Once again he is drawn into open conflict with other-worldly powers. He is no match for such and has not a hope of victory. But since when has that mattered? It is now a matter of honor: his own, his god's, his fallen comrades. Thorr-kan roars his acceptance and strides forth to do battle. -Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur ****************************************************************************** Peace through strength! Victory through annihilation! Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [MG] Room for Wonder Message-ID: <1993May10.195307.4188@data-io.com> Keywords: Kardia, ar'Elya, the Lighthouse Date: Mon, 10 May 1993 19:53:07 GMT When ar'Elya led Kardia through the hallway towards the room that had been setup for her, Kardia didn't know what to expect. There had already been so many surprises, so many things that brought a touch of longing and nostalgia to her. To be this clean again and assume that one could have a *shower* at any time... to be walking on smooth carpets with no slip, no slide, and no tacks. To have light around every corner and bright enough to read by. She was also still a little worried about Jameson's collapse at dinner and at the look on 'Raelf's face as he had left for the Archmage's meeting. "Here we are." said ar'Elya and stopped before a door with writing on it. At first glance, the writing on the door said 'Guest Room'; but when Kardia focussed on it, it was simply a flowing script that she couldn't make out. She squinted at it and still couldn't make it out. Finally, she gave up trying to read it and 'Guest Room' floated back into her head. Ar'Elya smiled and wiped her hand over the words, and then wrote in the same flowing script over where the words were. Kardia tried to follow the formation of the new word, but, afterwards, realized she couldn't remember. Ar'Elya said, "Look at it without trying to read it." Kardia laughed, shook her head and tried. Two word-concepts came to mind. The first was her name, 'Kardia'. The second was 'Heart'. The first impression, however, was the stronger one. "Goodness. That's what my name means..." For the first time, Kardia looked ar'Elya in the eyes. Kardia stilled as she saw herself on that damned rolling platform, oblivious to the pyre behind her and surrounded by the wings of swans as she stripped and broke nettles under a bare foot. The green in Sean's unfinished shirt showed bright amid the drab of the restless crowd. Concentrating with all her being on finishing at least that one sleeve... Kardia shivered and looked away, down at her hands. They had swollen from the poison that the stinging nettle had injected, to the point where she hadn't known if she'd be able to use them again. Sean had found her crying over them two days later, and he'd kissed them to thank her for the use of his one hand. She still remembered the coolness of that gentle touch against the fire in her useless hands. She shivered again and looked at the door and listened to ar'Elya's voice. "The scribing of your name is what begins the process of generating the room. Your name is a template for your personality, and the main processor uses that in order to rough out your room." Kardia blinked in some confusion but only said, "Oh. O.K." So ar'Elya nodded and opened the door. There was a white metal wall with nothing but the imprint of a hole offset to one side. Kardia knew she gasped when she saw it. She knew that ar'Elya was watching her, but she didn't care. She walked up to the door, running the tips of her fingers against the smooth metal of the security door. The paint, the size, the placement of the 'slot could have been identical to the door outside her apartment in Ren'raku. But then there were millions that were identical to that particular door. It had been her private place, away from her father's palatial CEO estates, away from the guards, the vidreporters, and the servants. She had to dig through her bag to find it. What had once been as important to her as breathing was now relegated to the bottom of a leather bag. She came up with her SIN and spun it over her forefinger as she used to do and slotted the 'stick into the covered hole. The door disappeared in a whisper of hydraulics. "Enjoy." said ar'Elya with a smile and she walked away. Kardia looked after ar'Elya, half wanting to walk away from this door. This was something she thought she'd lost. Kardia grinned a wry grin and wiggled her left toes in their boots. These folks seemed to be in a habit of returning things that were lost forever. She straightened her shoulders and walked in. The door closed behind her with a whisper that spoke to Kardia of a sense of security she hadn't had for half a year. No one was going to be able to come through that door without warning her. It was not her apartment, as she had almost half expected it to be. It was, however, laid out exactly like a Ren'raku luxury apartment along one of the outer walls of the archology. The wall of glass was the same. This one, though, had a view of the Great Blue instead of Seattle. The fold out kitchen with all the capabilities to make all the foods she'd once loved and hated was much the same. She'd forgotten how small the apartments were, only a dekameter square. A double drive, flyer and bobbin, upright spinning wheel with a stool took up most of the living space in front of a tri-vid setup. She grinned a wry grin at seeing the Schacht label on it. A basket sat next to it, and she frowned when she looked in. There were needles in there. Not just needles, but steel, circular knitting needles with nylon cord connectors. There were also sewing needles of various sizes, packets and packets of them, both fine and coarse. By JP Coats. Not the crooked, lumpy iron needles or the brittle bone or wood sewing needles of this time and place, but shiny, smooth, steel needles with regular eyes. Kardia sat on the stool next to the spinning wheel and just touched and handled each knitting needle and the packets. "Enjoy..." she said softly and shook her head. She got up and went to the kitchen and found a shallow cereal bowl, she turned on the tap and water came out. Clear water, clean water, and she didn't doubt that it would be safe to drink. She put a quarter inch of water in the bottom of the bowl and went back to the wheel. She turned to the tri-vid stereo system and found the datajack. Kardia stared at it. Then she sighed, felt along her neck until she felt the hardness of the edge of her 'slot, and then pulled the skin colored dummy out. The 'jack slid in and seated with a soft 'thunk'. She hadn't needed a keyboard since she was 21, but it had been a long time. Kardia carefully sat down on the floor and closed her eyes, a purely mental movement, and she was floating in darkness with only a few lights around her. A disorienting moment went by as she re-adjusted to the 270 degree dome vision she usually had here on the Matrix. There should be more lights, she thought. There should be millions of lights... A gnome appeared out of the darkness. A little service gnome that looked like service gnomes everywhere. She saw the shadow of the silver cord that probably held it to the main unit of this complex. It came up to her and bowed and then asked, "Is there anything more you might need in your room?" "Well, at the moment, I'm just looking for some music..." A directory web lit up in front of her, with thousands of icons grouped by period, type, place, and subject. One spoke of the web had blues hung upon in in all the colors of the sea and sky, another was covered with metal, another the wood carvings of various composers and artists, and others were strange shapes and concepts that could only be expressed on this type of space. There were hundreds of spokes and ladders between them. A wet sprocket that looked like a toad looked up at her as she went by. They must have gotten the CD. It was the entertainment libraries of the house, libraries that were dated... she frowned at the dates. The dates were in the same flowing script as the door had been and when she looked at it just to look at it it told her that the lastest records were for today. She nodded and sighed, she should have expected that. "Thanks." she said, "I was also wondering if I could take a look around for a little bit? Oh... and are there laundry facilities in the room?" "I'd be glad to show you around, and there is a full laundry facility folded just right of the kitchen." "Cool. Thanks..." and the world moved around them as the gnome adjusted the view of the Matrix to suit their needs. The tour was entirely composed of the structures and management of the house. The little gnome was very proud of the size and extent of the libraries, and Kardia was absolutely amazed. Not only was every culture on her Earth included, but thousands of other. The stores were immense and growing. There was, however, no access to the whole of the Matrix as she'd known it, which didn't surprise her but did disappoint her a touch. The data area that was her room returned to her and she selected an album by Broken Promises, one by Metal Mockingbirds for the next, and finally one with the Mockers of Fate. She examined them with a few of her eyes. Other eyes noticed a movement out on the Matrix's webs. It was another being, entirely ungnomelike. Kardia blinked all her eyes in surprise, the reflex still echo'ed here on the Matrix. That other was walking up here, not using the near-Flight of three-dimensional movement. Kardia wondered who would *walk* on the Matrix as she came out of her trance. What did Jameson call herself during that introduction, a Walker? Kardia grinned and shook her head. Strange to realize that her style of hitech was more like ancient history to the folks she was now with, on a planet who's tech looked like ancient history to her. The plug pulled out with a feeling like someone scritching her back with light nails and then she was out again. The hand that put the cover back in was slow and it smoothed the area one more time before leaving it alone. The music started and startled her with its complexity and harshness of the sound. Rain's husky contralto sounded harsh compared to the Listener's clear tones at the Inn. Dust's tenor was closer, but he only came in as background and seemed fragile compared to the music. Lava's bass rumbled ground deep and Flashpoint's electric guitar was more a scream of sound than distinctive notes. The driving of the beat was relentless, clean and as precise as picosecond timing. Kardia's throat tightened again. She wiped her eyes so she could see to pull things out of her rough cut bag. Realizing that she should probably wash the clothes she was sitting in as well, she walked over to the closet area and opened the door. There were clothes there. A mixture of clothing over various times, and it included Generican style clothing, but the clothing was made out of machine woven cloth. She shook her head and chuckled at the even softness under her hands. So this is how ar'Elya came to be wearing the machine loomed silk at the Dragon's Inn. She stripped and pulled on a heavy satin robe of silk and her eyes half closed at the swirl of the cloth against her skin. All the clothes she had with her went into the 'mat with a tablet of soap from the drawer next to the 'mat, and the machine quietly went to work. Kardia pulled out the strick of moon silk and spread more of the fibers in the towel and worked on more thread. The smooth, swift action of the ball bearings in the modern wheel made the spinning a breeze compared to the wood on wood or wood on leather bearings of most of the wheels she'd run into on Nexus. As the fibers turned and twisted into shining thread she planned out the next morning. She would have to ask Andrea for a room at the Dragon's Inn to be close to both her and Sheryl, the Weaver's Guild would have to be told that she would be unavailable for service for those three days, and she'd have to ask 'Raelf and ar'Elya if she could borrow the knitting needles that were here for Sheryl's cover. If the Inn worked out she'd have to tell Mrs. Cludne what was up and to thank her for what had come along, so far. Three albums and an hour or two later, she unbent herself from the wheel, hearing her back pop and crackle as she stretched. It was deep, dark night outside. The artificial lighting was such a godsend that she didn't want to stop. Kardia yawned a huge yawn, and then sighed. If she didn't get to sleep soon, it would eat into her daylight the next day. She regarded the work she'd done, and then pulled out the supported spindle that had almost an equal amount on it. It had been three days' worth of work. She joined the two threads and wound the spindle thread onto the spinning wheel's bobbin. She pulled a small niddy noddy out of her bag, and there was enough yardage to have her winding for half an hour. She tied loops woven into and around the thread, and then pulled it off the niddy noddy. She put the skein away in her bag. At finding it mostly empty, she remembered her laundry. The clothes were fresh and clean and the 'mat had washed and folded them for her. The pile of clothes went back into her bag. Kardia then went into the tiny bathroom to clean her teeth. She found toothpaste in the cabinet along with an actual toothbrush and floss. So she used the brush instead of her usual small cloth. She was amazed when the floss didn't make her gums bleed, the excess bits of handspun linen she had used had tended to fray, but they seemed to have done the job. The gel bed was set up with a feather comforter instead of the thermal blankets that would have been at home. She grinned a little at the enormity of the anomaly. Real animal products were nearly unheard of back home, when she'd first been offered a dead animal part for food here, she'd been amazed. Then she'd learned that the Spirits of the animals didn't gather and destroy the killers the way they'd killed the meat and animal products industries at home. The real meat was actually tastier and had a better texture than the vat proteins she'd been used to and without a reason to fear it, she'd adjusted fairly easily. She'd also learned to appreciate the warming capabilities of feathers and fur. She sat down gingerly on the gel bed and felt it contour itself to her. Kardia looked out into the darkness of the glass wall right next to her and turned out the lights. There was no one in the range of even her low-light sight. She got up to hang up the robe and settled more solidly into the bed. Muscles protested the needed flexibility as she pulled up her leg to take a long look at the golden foot 'Raelf had made her. She examined her foot by sight and with gentle probing with her fingers where she knew it was joined. There was no pain, no discomfort, not even the feeling of sweat where her flesh joined the other. Heck, there was no feeling of where the join was at all. Satisfied that there was no damage after the day she lay back in the soft, supporting warmth beneath her and covered herself with the incredibly light and warm comforter. As she happily burrowed into her bed, the first silver edge of the moon peeked into her window. Kardia was asleep before its silver light flooded her room. * * * A chime woke her when the sky outside had already brightened. Kardia woke and the first thing she saw was the ocean. For a moment she was confused and then she remembered where she was. She sighed and then winced as she got up. Her body was adjusting to being balanced again and muscles she hadn't used in a while protested their new duties. She stretched and then slowly walked over to the bathroom. For a long while she happily reveled in the hot water, scrubbing and rubbing until she felt clean again. For a minute all she did was watch the beading water run off the gold of her foot. The hair dryer built into the bathroom did it's job quickly and easily and she sighed at the raggedness of her clothing as she pulled on her underwear and undershirt. On impulse, she opened the closet again and started looking intently through the clothes. On a second pass she found a heavy skirt, a shirt and vest, leggings and socks that all fit into her boots. She smiled and then pulled a solid shawl from her bag. It was six feet square and translucent but there was no lace work to it. She put it across her shoulders, and the shirt disappeared. Kardia looked down with disbelief. The skirt fell off as well as the back side of it unraveled. She took a breath and started laughing as she very carefully folded up her shawl and put it back into the bag and put her old clothes back on. With a slightly intent look, she moved over to the basket of needles, and pulled a packet out. She wrapped it in her scarf. She felt a surge, but when she unwrapped the packet, it was still there. The needles were just as solid and just as real as before. First, she packed and balanced all her things on her again. She picked up the remainder of the skirt and brought it and her bag back through the apartment door. Just before the door closed behind Kardia, she took one more look back in the room of her memories. She quirked a smile and kept moving. ----- [ADMIN: Thanks to Hutch for all the detailing of the capabilities of the guest rooms, and to Kelly Cooper for Jameson's appearance. The Mockers of Fate is the creation of Bruce Harlick. Broken Promises and Rain are the creations of Carl Rigney. I hope I did them justice.] -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [AU] [MG] Hurry, Hurry, Hurry 'Til We're Done... Message-ID: <1993May11.000526.10767@data-io.com> Keywords: Kardia, Andrea, Sheryl, Mrs. Cludne, Weaver's Guild. Date: Tue, 11 May 1993 00:05:26 GMT Kardia didn't see Jameson in the Guest Rooms hallway as she came out of her room, so she headed towards the main dome of the place. As she headed there she stopped in the middle of the hallway and frowned. The building, from the outside had resembled a giant beehive. Inside, the entire beehive structure were the main rooms of the house. There were no guest rooms from outside the building. She sighed and kept going. The door back to the main building opened easily; and she found Jameson eating with ar'Elya and 'Raelf. "Sorry I'm late," Kardia said as they looked up at her, "I had a little... uhm..." she chuckled, "trouble with dressing myself this morning..." She held up the remainder of the skirt. Jameson looked away with a smile on her face and ar'Elya laughed with Kardia. "What I don't get is this..." Kardia said as she walked up to the table. She showed them the packet of needles she'd already wrapped in her scarf once and wrapped them again. This time there was no surge. "It's really real..." 'Raelf nodded, "It's got the matter to matter." Kardia raised one eyebrow and ar'Elya took a breath. 'Raelf went on, "The guest wing is run by a reality processing unit, our kids invented it. Unit handles the furnishings and equipment for the guest wing. Works on some of the same principle as the lab, but better. Takes your expectations as input, and first builds a high-order illusion, then fills it in with a reality 'type. Used to be, only a sapient could do that kind of work. Anyway, if the processor hadn't rewritten some virtual matter into 'em, the needles woulda gone poof as well." "Fills them in with what?" asked Kardia. "'Life is complex...'" said Jameson with a small smile. Kardia looked at her blankly for split second, took a sharp breath in and then at 'Raelf. "She's got it..." he said. "Oh." said Kardia, "Then what was the surge I felt when I wrapped the needles the first time?" "The processing unit keeps a string on the things that it's built. For recycling purposes. Here... let me see that..." Kardia handed over the packet of needles. "Yup. It's snapped." 'Raelf handed them back. "Oh... sorry about that." said Kardia. 'Raelf thought a moment. "It's probably best though, if you're set to do your dispellings with 'em. The ambient magical fields mighta messed with your nettle cloth if the cloth was in the construction stages. If you like, I could make 'em for real for you in my shop upstairs, or you could do like you did with this one and dispell the field. But that whole basket seems to have gotten enough reality put into 'em to stand up to your cloth." Kardia looked at the basket, "How can I pay you back for them?" 'Raelf smiled, "I'll charge the Mage Guild for 'em. You'll be able to use 'em for Dasham's curse, right?" Kardia smiled back and nodded. "Right." she said and hugged the basket for just a moment and then set it down next to the rest of her stuff. Then she joined them for breakfast. * * * After breakfast, she spoke with 'Raelf for a moment to setup a meeting with him after she was done with Sheryl's cover so that they could get started with Dasham's curse; and then with Jameson about Andrea's housestorming and what her schedule was for the next three days. 'Raelf then showed her how to operate the gate to the Mages' Guild. Kardia exited the Mage Guild with clean laundry and a light step. She took one look backwards as she existed, still amazed by the insane architecture. She felt refreshed, renewed by her visit with her past. It had been the first completely dreamless nights sleep she'd had in some time. She still had an incredible sense of homesickness from all the tech that had been missing from her life, but the rest had made things better. The walk to the Dragon's Inn was quick and easy. She found Andrea in the main taproom. "Hiya, I thought about it some more, and it would be easier for me to do the cursebreaking if I were staying near you two. Would you have any problems putting me up in the Dragon's Inn for the three nights?" "No, I don't have a problem with that," Andrea said. "As a matter of fact, I was rather expecting that you would be needing a place to work, and I'm more than happy to pay for a room for you. Gods, Kardia, you're doing me the greatest favor anyone's ever done me in my entire life, and you think I'd worry about pocket change?" Kardia laughed softly, "I guess I don't think of that as pocket change, but, you're right. Compared to your house..." She grinned, "I'll be back around noon, then, to take you up on that offer." Kardia left with a lighter heart. * * * Mrs. Cludne's was cleaned up and the worst of the holes were already fixed. Kardia went in and looked around for the hostess, finally finding her in the kitchen with a crowd of cookie hungry grandchildren. "Hi." "Oh!" Mrs. Cludne patted her flour covered hands and came over to Kardia and gave the tall girl a hug. "We were worried about you, girl. Where were you?" "I was out, and by the time I realized what time it was, it was late enough that my host thought it'd be safer for me to stay than to try and walk across town." "Good for him." Mrs. Cludne gave Kardia a wink. Kardia blushed at the wink, not quite knowing how to deny what Mrs. Cludne might be implying without confirming it beyond all refute. She just gave up, knowing that the blush was incriminating as well. Then she realized that she now had a perfect excuse for leaving early, so she used it shamelessly. She batted her eyes at Mrs. Cluden and said, "Uhm... well. I now have a place that I can stay, so I'll be moving out today instead of at the end of the week. I'm sorry that I am not able to stay with you longer, the stay that I had was quite enjoyable..." Mrs Cludne patted Kardia's hand, leaving a faintly white mark. "It's all right, dearie, with the poor hospitality that we've given you, I'll be givin' your money back ta you... just a minute..." Kardia blinked in some confusion as Mrs. Cludne trotted off and came back with the gold that Kardia had paid for the week. The coins clinked into Kardia's hand. "But..." "But me no buts, girl. You've been a pleasure and you did so much of the entertaining and work during the storm time... Please do keep it." "I..." Kardia took a deep breath, "I would feel better at least paying for the first night and the food that I did eat during the storm." She looked up at the ceiling, "That must have taken some amount of money to rebuild..." She held out two of the five gold pieces. Mrs. Cludne smiled and took the money. "Your things are back here." She walked Kardia over to a locked closet. Kardia laughed softly. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you, Mrs. Cludne." She carefully gathered the larger runsack, the harp and case, the quiver and horsebow arrows. She distributed about herself and smiled to find it feeling lighter with her balance back. "Likewise, young lady. Please do come back sometime." Kardia smiled at the hostess, "I will if I need to." She bowed to the older woman, and walked off toward the Weaver's Guild. * * * Davida, the tall brunette that Kardia had seen the first second day that she'd been in Generica, was the one in the reception area. "Uhm... hi, I'm Joureyman Kardia Xvaramene...?" Kardia said, somewhat hesitantly. "How may I help you?" asked Davida with no trace of recognition. "I'd like... uhm... I guess I'd like to register two contracts wtih the Guild, so that they know what I'm doing." Davida pulled out a form and pulled out a pen and started filling in the name section. "Uhm. I can write." said Kardia, blushing. Davida gave Kardia a flat, tired smile and handed the form and pen over to Kardia. The form was labelled, and Kardia worked through it fairly quickly for Sheryl's coverlet. At the address of the employer, Davida whistled softly, and then at the price Kardia was getting for the contract, Davida blinked. "You sure you have that right?" she asked Kardia. "Yes. That's the price we agreed on, it's not only for the three days' work, but the materials involved." Kardia said absently as she filled in the fact that she was going to be staying at the Dragon's Inn as well. "Whooo..." said Davida softly, "Guess those adventurer types have money to throw around." As Kardia put in what she was making, Davida choked on laughter, "A unicorn cover?" She paused and the next was said with the delicacy one usually reserves for the insane. "You are working for a beast?" "No, her sister." Kardia said with a small smile. "Oh." Recognition dawned on Davida's face, "You're the one that broke the table!" Kardia blinked in complete confusion, "Excuse me?" "Your tablecloth broke the Guild's table." Kardia frowned and then sighed and relaxed, "I'm sorry, I just have no idea what you're talking about..." "Come on... Lyra!!" Davida called into the Hall, a young girl with brown hair popped out of the darkness, and cocked a head at the journeyman. "Wouldja watch the front just for a little? She's the one that made the tablecloth... I wanna show her what happened." The youngling turned wide eyes in Kardia and gulped as she nodded. Kardia followed Davida's long stride with a sense of forboding. It felt strange to be walking inside with all her things; and then she realized the strangeness was more because she was walking so easily and quickly. The speed wasn't much more, but it felt good. By the time they reached the Dining Hall, she realized that there were quite a few people in the Weavers' Guild, far more than she had seen the first time she was there. The work Hall was filled with people at various pieces of equipment. The Dining Hall had at least a dozen folks just working in the kitchen next to it. Kardia revised her estimate to at least a hundred if not that much again through the whole, rambling building. Davida pivoted neatly to a standstill next to a huge oak table that was resting on the ground. One of the legs was pulverized, the other three looked as if they'd broken off when the one leg gave way. "See?" "What did my tablecloth have to do with this?" asked Kardia. "When Master Torre," Kardia had to think and realized Davida was speaking of Annie, "and Cassie spread the cloth on the table, that leg broke." "Wait, you're talking about the lace tablecloth, right?" Davida nodded. Kardia continued in bewilderment, "How could *that* be heavy enough to do this?" Davida's closed hostility broke on her laughter. "You really don't know, do you?" "Uhm... no, I guess not." "A hedge wizard came in and fixed that leg..." Kardia interrupted, "A *wizard* fixed the table?" Comprehension dawned on her face, "Oh..." She sighed and then looked at Davida, and asked with some asperity, "Magic here is as cheap and easy as a meal?" Davida nodded. "Oh, no... but..." Kardia wrinkled her nose in confusion again, "I didn't..." She stood there and thought. Davida coughed lightly, startling Kardia out of her thoughts, "What? Didn't what?" Kardia's expression cleared, "I didn't know that magic was so common in Generica. Out where I come from, there isn't that much of it so it's expensive and rare. I mean... folks out on the farm wouldn't dream of fixing a table or a chair with magic." "Ha!" crowed Davida, "I knew it! Your work does dispell magic! I told Annie. How do you do it?" Kardia blinked in the face of the celebration and shrugged, "I just spin and knit or weave something with a variety of stinging nettle that's been dried and retted like flax. I observe a vow of silence while I do it, and it seems to work. What puzzles me is that I wasn't in a vow of silence when I made that tablecloth, though I was silent during a lot of it. I am now wondering if parts of it work for draining magic and if other parts don't or if it's a restriction that I don't need to do anymore." Davida's face fell, "But anyone can do stinging nettle cloth, it's just too work intensive for production, especially since it can't be done by mechanical or magical mass production techniques. Besides, it's a pain to work and with the finer varieties of flax that are appearing..." she shrugged, "There is no need for it. But I do know of some pieces folks have made for curiousity's sake, but no other pieces I know have your pieces' properties, though." "Mass production?" asked Kardia, feeling a little bit like confusion was a common affliction today. "Uhm... forgot, you're from those backwards lands..." Davida said with obvious pride in her Guild, "Mass production is when..." "I know what mass production is." said Kardia, cutting Davida off, and gritting her teeth. "I just didn't know that it could be driven by magic." Davida sniffed, "I guess that you don't know everything about mass production, then." Kardia sighed and rubbed both eyes with the heels of her hands. "I don't believe this..." she muttered to herself. When she looked up she found Davida gone and Peter looking at her. She turned on her left foot to look to see where Davida had gone and saw her leaving into the Hall. "Journeyman." said Peter. "Yes, sir?" At the tone, Kardia came around smartly. "Why did you not tell us about the magical capabilities of your work?" Kardia could read nothing into Peter's tone. "Uhm... I didn't think that the pieces that I sold you had those properties, actually. I hadn't taken all the precautions I thought I needed to take in order to inbue them with those capabilities." "Did you know that such garments might actually be dangerous to some of our clientele?" This time Peter's tone left no doubt as to his disapproval. "No, sir. I was just explaining to Journeyman... uhm... Davida, that magic isn't nearly as common where I'm from and so I hadn't even thought it would be a problem. Just as I hadn't thought that they could do what they did..." Kardia sighed. "I'm sorry. That's the explanation, but I guess that's no excuse. Did..." she swallowed her dread, "did anyone get hurt?" Peter looked her in the face, studying her for a long moment. Then the seriousness on his face broke as he grinned a wry grin. "No one was hurt, but Lady Ellen got a rather rude awakening the morning she tried on her new vest. The beauty spells she'd paid for were... well..." Kardia gaped, "Beauty spells?... Oh, dear..." she said helplessly. Peter nodded with a very long face, "Yes, indeed. A serious matter indeed." At Kardia's incredulous look, Peter broke into laughter and shook his head, "We're just going to have to be careful who we sell your work to, now." The smile turned warm, "There have been some who have gotten interested in the magical protection they might provide, so we can give you a better margin on them. If you'd told us about that to begin with we could probably have advanced you not only money but extra work. You might want to register you skills with the Mage Guild as well." Kardia nodded, "I've sorta done so... that's the second contract that I wanted to register here, it's through one of the Mage Guild members and for a curse lifting as well as the lace work...." "Pity..." said Peter and then shook his head. "whatj, sir?" He was silent for a while, and then smiled, "A pity that the magical draining characteristic is the main property our new buyers are looking at in those pieces. They don't have an inkling as to the workmanship that went into them. Just seems a pity..." Peter shook his head, "Well, the Guild makes its money where it can. Shall we get your other job registered?" Kardia grinned, "Yes, please, and, Sir,... as to the other... I guess knowing that folks like you and Master Annie who know your stuff admiring what I do is more than adequate appreciation for me. They don't know what they're looking at, so it... well... I guess it doesn't matter, does it?" Peter looked at her again with the apraising look then smiled, "No, I guess it doesn't." ----- [ADMIN: Thanks to Hutch for his help with 'Raelf's conversation, and there may be other details as to the breakfast after the night of the Archmage's meeting, but I'm trying to catch up with Chris Meadows and Andrea and Sheryl. WHEW! They run too fast... Grin...] -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [AU] [HouseStorming] : "Sixday's Child" Message-ID: <1993May11.001201.10946@data-io.com> Keywords: Kadrys and Kardia References: <1993May11.000526.10767@data-io.com> Date: Tue, 11 May 1993 00:12:01 GMT [ADMIN: Sections of this are posted on behalf of Andrea Evans] ------- Kardia returned to the Dragon's Inn ready to work. She waved at Andrea and went over to her and wrote, 'Where's the room?' on a wax tablet that she'd gotten for this purpose before. Then she waited a second, wondering if Andrea could read and realizing that she hadn't asked, she'd assumed. Kardia was greatly relieved when Andrea nodded. That was when Kardia noticed the pale man that sat opposite Andrea. A pale man with hair as black as a raven's wing and eyes that matched the hair. It took a small effort to look away and pay attention to what Andrea was saying. "Yes. It's all set up. Let me show you where it is. Kadrys... Oh." Andrea smiled, "Kadrys, this is Kardia Xvaramene. Kardia, this is Kadrys." The pale man stood with a grace that reminded Kardia of the restless movement of a black panther she'd once seen in a wild animal park. She smiled and bowed a small bow to him as he bowed back. "I'm going to show Kardia where her room is, I'll be back." and Andrea walked off into the hallway. Kardia took one look backwards and found Kadrys watching her with a look that had her heart pounding. She pulled the shawl closer around her shoulders and turned back to follow Andrea and felt herself blushing. Kardia frowned, shook her head and went to her room. * * * After the night before, the room that Andrea led Kardia to looked very primitive and rough in comparison. A bed, shelves built into the wall, a chair, a small table with a washbasin and a pitcher of water. The only light from a shuttered window. It was a rough rectangle, with the window the opposite wall of the door, the table and bed by the window. The shelves along the wall between the bed and the door. There was an oil lamp, Kardia noted with some satisfaction the light would be steadier and clearer than a candle and that would be good enough. She smiled at Andrea and wrote, 'Thanks'. Andrea left with a "Good luck." and closed the door. Kardia sighed, sat down, and used the flat end of her stylus to smooth the wax down again. She then got up, threw open the shutters to let all the light in that she could. The next thing she did was unpack her bag. First onto the bed was Kardia's shawl. The various needles and knitting needles then came out of the bag. She piled all of them onto the shawl and carefully wrapped them into it. The short flow of energy was pretty much the same as when she'd wrapped the single packet in the scarf. Kardia wasn't quite sure if that was because it was the breakage of the single connection or if it was because she couldn't tell the differences in power flow. She frowned just a touch. The basis of what had seemed to only be small powers had never really concerned her before. She'd never really thought of herself as being anything other than an ordinary person that had stumbled on a hard and long process that managed to get her and those she cared about out of magical trouble. The information that she'd gotten at the Weavers' Guild and that which 'Raelf and ar'Elya had given her was starting to make her think otherwise. Kardia still wasn't quite sure what to believe. The opening of her door startled the hell out of her. * * * Kadrys watched Kardia approach the table, his face a study in expressionlessness. Something about her, something quite indefinite, laid a light touch on his nameless instincts. He gazed intently at her. Only his secretive nature stopped the intense scrutiny from showing in his face. He mulled over the implications even as he rose to his feet to give her the locals' bow of formal greeting. What _was_ it about her that had made his calm heart beat faster? He was far too practised at introspection to be caught by surprise at his inner impulses. Yet he could _not_ isolate what it was about her that had stirred him into watchfulness. He absorbed the details of her appearance in a single eidetic glance, wondering whether the answer lay there. A face expressive more of strong character than of the demure beauty held up to women here as the ideal. Wilful wavy hair, the dark red of dry blood. The striking shade women often copied with henna leaves. Grey eyes that gathered the smoky light of the Inn. The faint lines round those eyes spoke of sorrows past, but her upright stance and firm stride told of a spirit that had never learned submission. Her gait seemed very slightly uneven: halting, as if she had recently injured a foot. Not too surprising: from the look of her legs, she had done a lot of travel on the Beggar's Carriage. 'Sixday's Child works hard for her living...' whispered an errant voice amid the echoing depths of his memories. But he had no time now to wonder about the fleeting phrase. 'She's staring. Worse, she's blushing. Just _listen_ to that heartrate. Kadrys, you idiot, you've studied her too long. Made it positively _obvious_...' he snarled at himself in chagrin that found no echo on his face as he broke the glance and gave her a quiet, disarming smile in farewell. As Andrea returned from showing Kardia to her room, Kadrys asked her about the older woman. He was intrigued to learn that she was a spinner and weaver, working on a blanket which would break a curse on Andrea's unicorn. Kadrys had resigned himself to the unicorn's caution. Let her human partner make whatever she wanted to out of the filly's reaction. There was not much he could do to change it. At least she had calmed down from her initial strenuous objections. Kadrys asked Andrea what Kardia's room number was. "I think I'd like to have a word with her..." he muttered, struggling with an unfamiliar uncertainty as to his motives. For once, he had no plans, no idea what he would say to her. Andrea grinned and shrugged "You can have as many words as you like, but I don't think she'll answer any of 'em." She replied to Kadrys' quizzical look, "Y'see, she's taken a vow of silence until the weaving is complete. She said it should take about three days..." Kadrys arched an eyebrow, and returned Andrea's teasing look. "All the better! Every man's dream: a woman who won't answer back!" He grinned and ducked as Andrea laughed and waved him away. As he climbed the stairs to the Inn's guest rooms, Kadrys' smile faded. 'Vows of silence... Weavings to break curses... Wellwell. There certainly _is_ more to this one than meets the eye. I wonder if that's what I sensed earlier. I'm not sure; it didn't seem dangerous. No feel of the intolerance of the hunter. That reaction of hers: whatever it was, I _don't_ think it was the excitement of sighting a target. But the disturbing part is, I'm just not _sure_. I'll have to look into this. Better to do it now, before she has a chance to settle in for whatever it is she has planned...' He opened the door, careful to make the tiny clumsy human noises as he saw that her back was turned. She spun round to face him, her bags spread open and half-unpacked on the bed and chair beside her. Her heartrate leaped at his entry and there was something a little like terror in her eyes. When she recognized him, the terror was muted, squashed, then gone. * * * Kardia had a hard time swallowing her terror at the unannounced entrance. Even after months here in Generica, she wasn't used to people just being able to walk in on a room that was ostensibly hers. When she saw who it was she had to swallow for a different reason. It was the dark, handsome one from the taproom, Kadrys, and his expression was somewhat contrite in the face of her reaction. She worked at calming herself with a few slow breaths and then raised one eyebrow at her unexpected visitor. "Apologies." he said quietly, "Andrea informed me of what you're doing for her and her unicorn and I was wondering if I might watch you at work." A tilt of the head from Kardia actually got her next question across. "Why? I am simply interested in curses and their workings." She heard the smile in his voice, but couldn't see it as he stayed on the darker, door side of the room. His eyes, though, were calm and steady. She blinked a little and then nodded. He was far more receptive to her body language than most were, she thought, as she indicated the lone chair. "Thank you," he said and quietly and smoothly pulled the chair into a position outside of her sunlight. She smiled in appreciation of him leaving her the light to work with as she returned to her unpacking. The first thing she did was dump the needles out of her shawl to hang the shawl up on the peg by the door, then she went back to the bed next to the window. Next out of the bag were her drawings of the day before, then the skeins of already finished thread. She dumped the rest of the bag out on the bed and put away her things and her clothes into the open shelves in the room. It felt good to actually have somewhere to put everything away, but it was slightly odd feeling his gaze on everything she did. She fingered the skein of thread that she'd finished the night before and put it aside. 'Raelf had said that there might be the possibility that the ambient magical fields in the newly created spinning wheel might have messed up the magics of her threads, and she wasn't about to hazard Sheryl's cover to that possibility. Perhaps 'Raelf would have a way of telling if the threads would work or not, later. Instead, she picked up one of the skeins that she'd had ready from before she had ever reached the city of Generica and she unbound it from the holding threads. It was the same skein as the one that she'd shown the guard the day she'd first entered the city. She looked around for a place to hang the skein from and met Kadrys' dark gaze. She found herself starting to blush again. He offered his slender hands and she grinned a little as she hung the loop of the skein on them. She then wound the beginning of the thread around her spread fingers, thrice, and then started a ball off one end of those three loops. She then started pulling the loops off the skein and his hands. Kardia then realized that Kadrys' hands were smooth enough not to catch on her thread. So, he was no weapons fighter, no farmer, and one who did no manual labor. The process was long and boring, and she couldn't help being slightly amazed that what had seemed such a dangerous being was quietly sitting there being an intelligent skein holder for her. Most people just tried to be a rack, but he was being intelligent about moving his hands after the first few loops so that the thread would pull off more easily and not take the whole skein with it. She also took the time to study him just a little more, noting the almost ultra-spare build, the way his eyes were almost always in shadow. The angles of his face were almost always somber, slightly pensive. At one point his eyes left the thread to meet hers, and she managed to meet them with a smile. She also, however, missed the next two winds onto her ball and she sighed, shook her head and undid them to put them back on, correctly. Her arms were tired by the time they were done, but Kadrys didn't even seem stiff after all the time holding the thread in front of him. She then had a ball with the other end of those loops still sticking out one side of it. She pulled at the end of those loops and had a ball of thread that fed the thread from the center of the ball, so the ball wouldn't be rolling around everywhere as she knit off it. She then stuck the pin of a ball holder through one part of the ball. One of the circular needles, 2.5 cm in size, came out and she put only 30 stitches into it. Then she sat down on the floor of the room, under the window, squarely in the sunshine and started knitting. It took half an hour to knit a square in the particular lacy stitch she'd designed after looking at the pattern of the curse through Sheryl's body. Kadrys took the small bit of parchment that she'd drawn the pattern on, and he studied it against the bit of fabric that was forming beneath her needles. Then he took a while studying her collection of knitting and sewing needles with expressionless eyes. Kardia found that it took some extra effort on her part to concentrate on her knitting instead of on the presence of this black clad man. Kardia then took the square off the needles, washed it in her washbasin, and pinned it out to dry on the top blanket of her bed. She measured the square as it lay on her bed, looked at her drawings, frowned, pulled out the 2cm needles and made another square as the first one dried. She washed and pinned the second, took the first one off, measured it again, and nodded. She measured the second square, frowned, and took out the 1.5cm needles and started yet another square. By the time she was half way through the third square, the second was dry, so she took the second one off the bed, and measured it with one raised eyebrow. She quickly unraveled the third square, took four double pointed 2.5cm needles out and started casting enough stitches to go around Sheryl's left rear leg. Kadrys looked a little surprised at the unraveling, "Why..." he trailed off. Kardia grinned and then pointed to another piece of parchment that had numbers scribbled all over it. Then the measurements around the stick figure of Sheryl's leg. "Oh... you need to have a certain number of repetitions of the... pattern?" she nodded encouragement, "... to go around each leg. So you're measuring the patterns to see if they'll fit. I understand." Kadrys had found it a very relaxing way to spend an afternoon. Kardia's quiet absorption, her patient deft movements, her tranquil silence, cast a spell in their own subtle way. Kadrys basked in the soothing aura of her devotion to her work. There was a fragile magic in it: the sigh of her breathing, as constant as the sea, the rustle of the thread as it pulled from the ball she had wound from his hands. An almost mystical, trancelike ambience underlay her concentration on the lace growing under her hands. She had been distracted, unsettled by him earlier, that much was clear to him. The reasons behind her strange sensitivity to his presence were a little less clear, and would bear some investigation later. He could not afford to allow what he was to become perceptible. If something was giving him away, he would _have_ to find out what it was. But now, her whole self was focussed on the strands, as delicate as hair, that she twisted into this web, strands that for all their seeming fragility, would when she was done with them, be powerful enough to break a curse. Her concentration was so complete, that she was obviously in some deep realm of the mind, divorced from the complaints of her body. He knew, looking at her, that her posture, bent for hours over her working hands, would certainly strain her shoulders, her back and neck. He contemplated offering to rub the tired muscles when she finally stirred, but decided against it. For whatever reason, she seemed to find him disconcerting enough at a distance. He thought that she would probably be too shy to want any such personal favour from him. The next time Kardia looked up it was because she couldn't see the work in her hands. She sighed and stood and stretched, hearing things pop and crackle in her back, across her shoulders. The sight of Kadrys across the room had Kardia thinking a little ruefully that those hands might be nice on her tight shoulders, but she shrugged at the thought. She stretched her hands and felt them relax just a touch. She smiled at Kadrys and then laid out what she'd finished. She was very surprised and impressed with his quiet patience. Most people would have been bored stiff by someone that was putting single stitches at a time into something and not speaking. One rear leg section was already finished, along with the attachments necessary to make it possible to put it onto Sheryl so that it wouldn't move for the minute necessary to dispell the curse. She was beginning the left rear leg, and the light was too dim for her to see the stitches of the first row in order to establish the pattern properly. Her stomach rumbled, so she hooked the wax tablet to her belt, next to the ball of thread, and scooped up the new loop of her knitting to take out with her to the main room. * * * As Kardia stood to leave, Kadrys reached for her shawl, intending to drape it over her as she passed him on her way to the door. At the move, she gasped in surprise, the sound blending into Kadrys' sudden hissing intake of breath. He dropped the shawl and clutched his hand, turning hastily to put his back to her. Under the cover of his hunched shoulders, Kadrys assessed the damage at a glance. His hand was withered as if with age, the fingers gnarled and fragile, little more than dried skin stretched tight over bone. Pain clawed at him, and he accepted it, absorbed it, ignored it. He knew he would have to stall, give himself time to heal. Kardia hurried across the room and pulled at his arm, trying to turn him round to face her. He let the arm give a little without allowing himself to get pulled round. "It's nothing," he muttered, shaking his head. Kardia frowned, clutching his shoulder in both hands and hauling at it, frantic to see what had happened. He was momentarily surprised at the strength in those delicate-seeming hands. The next instant, he allowed his tense, hunched posture to relax a little. He let her pull him round to face her, but still held his hand hidden from her. His hand was throbbing as blood rushed to the maimed tissue, flooding it, restoring it. But it was still too soon. Time. He needed more time. As he faced her, he saw that her face was flushed from exertion and worry. Her eyes glittered with silent indignation as he moved his arm behind his back. She gritted her teeth, clenched her fists and stamped in sheer exasperation, her foot making an oddly loud thud on the floorboards. She thrust out her hand, palm upwards in an obvious "_Show_me!_" gesture. The set of her features, the thin line of her mouth brooked no denial. Slowly, Kadrys extended his hand. Kardia seized it in both of hers, examining it with professional thoroughness, bending the fingers and feeling the joints with the skill of one used to performing such examinations. She looked up from the examination, searching his face. Bafflement and relief struggled in her eyes. Kadrys sighed. "Andrea may or may not have told you this, but she was looking for people to help her remove traps from her new home. I've offered her my assistance." He paused, and a hint of reluctance, almost of shame, crept into his voice. "...Yes, I'm afraid I am a thief. And in my profession, manual skill is very important. I've had permanent dexterity-enhancing spells cast on my hands. Your shawl disrupted them. It was only temporary. As you can see, I'm fine now. But at the time, the disruption was painful. That and my surprise made me cry out. I am sorry to have worried you with my accident." Kardia nodded, slowly. It took another moment before the questioning intentness faded from her glance. Kadrys essayed a small smile, and looked relieved when it was returned. Inwardly, he allowed himself a mental sigh. 'Ahhwell. It could've been worse, I suppose.' he thought. 'If she'd been beside me at the time, it would've been much harder to hide what happened. I hope she believes that excuse. Only time will tell if she doesn't...' He looked down. Though she was no longer staring into his face with that searching gaze, she still held his hand tightly in both of hers. She followed the direction of his eyes, and suddenly dropped his hand, turning away, ostensibly to pick up her dropped shawl. But he could feel the radiated heat of her blush even from where he stood. He uncurled his fingers, silently revelling in the remembered softness of her touch, the way its living warmth had erased the final echoes of his earlier pain. A faint smile traced the corner of his mouth as he followed her out. -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir-the-Love-Stricken-and-happy) Subject: [Sorc] Seagulls and Stakes Message-ID: Date: Tue, 11 May 1993 10:37:11 GMT Thanks to John Gad for putting in his bit on this scene with Alicia. Some of this may be a repost, I don't know because our news-server packed it in oveer the weekend ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Her first sensation was one of cold. Cold air blowing over her body, cold water splashing her feet, cold pinpricks of rain smacking into her back. It was annoying and unpleasent, but it also returned her to conciousness. With the groan of those who would really rather be sleeping, Alicia rolled over from where she had collapsed and sat up. For a moment she was terribly confused, and she wondered dully why she wasn't in her oh-so-warm bed waking up to the gentle tones of the enchanted bells her mother had crafted. Then the rush of memory flooded back into her mind. Her bed and the beautiful bells had been destryed months ago when Wevlyndale fell. Her mother was dead, as were almost everyone she knew or cared about. And the chill of the plain steel collar magically sealed around her throat reminded her of what had happened to her after she had used the WorldGate to escape. Somehow, despite the frost in the wind and the cold of the water, the place on her neck where the steel band touched her skin was colder than anywhere else. Alicia shook her head rapidly to clear it of the depressing thoughts that were lodged there. As she did so, she noticed something next to her in the sand. Or rather, someone. A moderately attractive male Elf lay unconcious on the beach. His clothes were tatters, and it seemed like what remained had been badly burned. In the darkness of the early morning his skin seemed almost supernaturally pale, but then again, she decided, it was probably just a trick of the light. Figuring that the first step would be to get him out of the rain, Alicia grabbed the Elf by his armpist and dragged him under one of the remaining piers along the shore. His skin was as cold as ice, almost colder than the water even. A terrible thought occured to her. Maybe she had been too late to save this Elf from a death by drowning. Reaching to the soft skin of his throat, Alicia tried to find a pulse. There was none. Placing one hand to his lips and another to his chest, she was unable to find even the slightest hint of breath. With a quiet sob, Alicia drew back and began to chant the ritual Rhyme Of The Departed that she had learned as a child in Wevlyndale. She was almost finished when the Elf twitched. Startled out of her rhythm, Alicia allowed the chant to fade. Staring at the body that she was sure was dead, the red haired Half-Elf gave a small cry when it twitched again. Checking again for breathing or pulse, Alicia began to fear when she again found none. With trembling hands, she gently pulled open the deceased Elf's lips. There was a small set of retractable fangs in his mouth. "Bright Lady preserve me!" Scarmbling back from the Elven Vampire, Alicia cast her eyes around for a piece of wood to destroy it with. She found a piece of driftwood nearby that that might do the job, and she quickly returned to the comatose Undead. Raising the piece of wood above its chest, Alicia prepared to destroy it. She hesitated. Despite her fear, the Elf seemed so peaceful that a wave of doubt washed over her. Maybe she didn't need to kill it. But if she didn't, it might cost her her life or the lives of others because she didn't act when she could have. Memories of the Undead horde spilling out of the Tower of Necromancy in Wevlyndale rose to her thoughts. She remembered the cries of the City Guardsmen as they died at the rotting hands of Ghasts, Wraiths, Spectres, and Vampires. The screams of her little sister as the Blood-Sucker ended her all too brief life and the vow she made to avenge her kin all came back to her. And yet, her resolve was not up to the grisly task. Despite the horror of her memories, Alicia couldn't bring herself to slay the Vampire whiles it was helpless. It seemed like murder, and the one thing she had never been was a murderer. The piece of wood dropped from her numb fingers and bounced into the sand below. Tears ran down her cheeks as she contemplated her cowardice and the spirit of her sister seemed to beg her to finish the deed and destroy the beast. Her hand was slowly drifting toward the driftwood when she realized that she was too late. The Vampire's eyes were open and locked on hers. She knew that a Vampire's eyes held within them the power to control others, yet she couldn't bear to pull her gaze away from those lovely eyes and the tormented soul that lay beneath them. Despair claimed her. Her life was over, and if the Vampire was feeling especially cruel, maybe her Undeath was about to begin. As the Elf slowly sat up, Alicia tried to close her eyes, but failed. She tried to run, to grab the wood and stab it, to do ANYTHING at all, but failed. Either the Vampire's power or her own fear had taken her mind prisoner and all she could do was kneel in the sand and weep and wait for the killing blow that would end her life once and for all..... Hunger. Dark hunger intermingled with pain. Fires all around him. His mother. And then, a cold wash of water through barest will, followed by a simple dreamless, timeless sinking in the cold. He had been drifting, barely on this side of conciousness as hands caught him, dragged him to shore. Then he had lost thought completely. In the middle of a storm, on a beach. Hunger. Silken then saw the woman. Beautiful, young. She was frightened, scared. She held a piece of wood above his heart, and was trying to strike him, to slay him. The thought dawned on him. 'She knows my nature' He fixed his eyes upon her, paralysing her with vampiric mind-control making her drop the stake and sit down on the beach. She was weeping, scared. This woman had a horrid past which she tried to forget again and again, yet couldn't, desppite all her efforts. She was like him, then. Battered pasts, shattered lives. His hunger screamed at him suddenly, to be sated with Blood. Silken instinctively moved towards her, with the intention of grabbing her and draining her dry. He lunged, but checked himself and stopped. I can't do this, She saved my wretched life. He looked around him. Seagulls. The storm had abated for the most part, leaving a pleasant sea-breeze and a dark cloudy night. Silken released his hold on the woman, averting his eyes from hers and looking out at the sea. "It's beautiful, the sea. I came from across the sea when I was younger. When I was mortal. It used to calm me" He sat very still. The Pain all over his body was horrible, difficult to overcome. "Out there ", he indicated the sea in general," you helped me. I thank you Alicia." Her name had been the first thing from her mind, but that was mostly it. He extended his arm and whistled calmly into the air. Soon, a seagull landed on his arm, and Silken quietly talked to it in bird-style chirps and caws, all the while lowering his arm to the level of his chest. The bird seemed entranced, and simply sat there, unmoving. Silken, in a quick motion, grabbed it's neck annd broke it in a quick jerking manner. He turned to Alicia. "I am sorry if this offends or startles you, but I must feed. If I did not do this, the Beast within would force me to attack you" All the while, his gaze was growing wider, hungrier-looking. Quickly, he dove his head into the chest of the bird and drank in quick deep gulps. It was finished all too quickly for him, but it would do until he could find some better prey. He tossed the body into the ocean and stood on unsteady feet. Quickly, he fell over in a near dead faint. The wounds had been much more serious than he thought. There, sprawed on the ground, there was little he could do except say, "Help me, please", to Alicia before passing out. -- 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 MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir-the-Love-Stricken-and-happy) Subject: [Sorc] The battle continues Message-ID: Date: Tue, 11 May 1993 14:17:03 GMT Jarakh paced back and forth, his mind pondering many questions at once. This Darmal that Saoirse claimed to know, but he'd never heard of. Who in the hell was he? He was a fraud, that was for sure, but where was he? He opened his mind to the general group of Ponticars. 'Report ' he gave a simple order. Several vooices took their turn, reporting quickly and concisely about the state of affairs in the city. 'Weather control was hit by a blast, it's out of commission for now' 'Much devastation all around, sir' 'Several pitched battles going on all over the city, sir' Reports also came in through extraplanar contacts that some of the Magirans had taken this fight to Astral space as well. Other Astral beings were just staying out of the way and letting the mages fight their battles. He broke contact. "Well, things do not look good. Weather Control is gone" Talon turned around and paced, smoking a cigar. "Then that means the city may very well be snow-swamped within the hour. We have to move quickly or all could be lost" Saoirse's head was clearing from the pain of Jarakh's earlier intrusions. She activated her mind-link, with only a small ammount of pain in it. 'It would seem to me, at least, that Darmal must be found quickly, correct? Then, how do we find him? He is not located in any of the main areas or your Ponticars would no doubt have spotted him long beforehand. He has not been seen at all since the battle began. And his life monitor would appear to be in a stasis' Saoirse indicated a small glowing set of green marbles that Jarakh's men kept. There were thousands of these balls. They inicated the living or dead state of the mage in question. Darmal's was glowing many diffrent colours at once which was something unexplainable to even Jarakh. 'Can we posssibly trace him through his life monitor?' "No, Saoirse, I tried to do that a while ago, but he's literally managed to disconnect the thing. He's totally undetectable" They thought about it for a moment, and the only sound was of the occasional explosion outside. The a voice came through the ether seeking urgent admittance. 'Sir, we've got an incoming communication from Generica. It's not on authorised bands' Jarakh replied 'Right. I'll be up there in a second, Sentel' He quickly gathered power with gestures and voice and transported all three of them up to the monitoring station higher up in the building. After a monments disorientation to get used to the surroundings, Jarakh saw his man, Sentel, sitting at a desk with several crystal balls all around him. One of them was glowing and sounds coming through. "Well, what have you got, Sentel ?", asked Jarakh gazing at the ball intently. "It's a scrambled message, sir, but I've located it's source and destination." "Good man. Any luck on breaking the code?" "No, sir. I ran standard procedure on it, and tried a modified spell using some vis that I had for boosting it, but no luck. There's some sort of seriously weird shield all over it. Nothing can get through it. Well, nothing I've tried anyway." Jarakh was seriously puzzled. "Damn, where's the Master of Lore when you need him" Talon interrupted Jarakh's train of thought. "Young man ", he said quietly," you said you had a lock on the source and the destination ..." "Er ..Yeah. that's right. The message is coming from a place in Generica. It's a bit too far away to get an accurate fix, but I did narrow it down that far. The caller's name I nearly caught as well. Starts with an Ig, but then it just got scrambled. Anyway, it's being received UNDER the Extraplanar Building, away from most of the conflict. I ran a cross-check. It seems that there's a heavy, but nearly undetectable defense has been raised around the area under the building. I didn't want to get too close in case I was spotted, but it's there. It's an unregistered lab, by the looks of it." Talon wa quietly mumuring "Ig ... Ig ... that rings a bell, I think" The crystal suddenly winked out. "Transmission ended, looks like" commented Sentel. Jarakh was digesting what Sentel had said. So was Saoirse. She had had to use a special save and store spell to keep all that Sentel had said on file. He was talking very quickly for even her lipreading, and she'd missed a few key words. Quickly, she transfered the file to her mind by the use of a conceptual translation spell from her old days. Now she understood what he had said. 'Sentel, you're a marvel' Sentel looked at her, caught by surprise with the thought message. He flushed. "Erm, thanks, Lady" 'We must get a move on quickly. If that is Darmal, then we can get him. If it isn't , then we have another strata to this plot. Jarakh, get five of your best Ponticars. If Sentel's estimation is correct, we are in for a rough ride' Jarakh was momentarily amazed that he was being given orders, but quickly opened a channel to his Ponticars. "Arak, Jemmon, Kalis, Tyrlis, get up to the Monitoring Station now. Your presence is needed." After a few moments, the four mages arrived, looking worried. 'Jarakh, I said FIVE, not four' "Yes, I know Saoirse. I am the fifth." She looked at him in amazement and shock 'But you can't! You're needed here, Jarakh, to oversee and control' "Nonsense. The city is at war. These are desperate times. We need to crack this Darmal person before it gets too late. So let's stop beating about the bush and get ON with it. Besides, I feel like a field trip. I haven't had one in years ", She was ready to argue again, but saw the expression on his face. He wouldn't be shaken from his views. She nodded assent. Arak, Jemmon and Kalis were faces that Saoirse already had met. Arak looked worried, confused but determined. Something of a temper too, she remembered. Jemmon was something of a darker, calmer figure. Wise in his own way. Kalis was the youngest of the troupe, but powerful. They were all young Academicians, but Ponticars nonetheless. Tyrlis, on the other hand, was a strikingly beautiful woman. Saoirse knew her to say hello to, even before the war. Tyrlis was one of the only female Ponticars in Magira, but she was damn good at her job. She specialised in offensive spells designed to crack the opponent's defense and knew the whole area of offense v defense like the back of her hand. 'You have made a good choice, Jarakh' she "said" to him privately. He merely nodded to her and then began explaining the situation about Darmal and how he is holed up under the Extraplanar Building and a spy by the looks of things. They were needed to help break down his defenses so that he could be captured and pumped for questioning. They all merely listened and readied themselves for an attack. Tyrlis then talked with Sentel about the shield that he'd encountered, gleaning as much information as possible. Then she started to draw up plans. The Crystal Message Indicator lit up again suddenly. The only sound to come through it was "Igly ...." Sentel quickly went to work, casting enchantments. "It's going to the same place as the other one", he said. Jarakh quickly signed this to Saoirse, who couldn't see Sentel's lips. She nodded. 'Perhaps now would be a good time to attack, Jarakh. His shields may have weakened enough to allow us a chance to punch through.' Tyrlis was busy using the crystal as a locator, trying to find out what exactly Darmal's shields and scrambling consisted of. The message stopped abruptly. Tyrlis looked up. "I think he is using a high-powered spell of his owwn devising to keep his defenses. He doesn't have a Parma in operation that I can see. I would suggest a quick assault now. He appears to be making other contact with the two rebel Masters as well, but on a diffrent channel, using a diffrent code scheme. Jarakh agreed, as did Saoirse. They readied themselves. The Magirans first threw a Parma shield all around themselves to keep hostile magics out. Talon invoked his most powerful wards against attack. Then they all cast individual wards that each of them knew to better resist all manner of influences. Saoirse was the first to finish casting her wards, and waited a good two or three minutes for the others. "How do you always manage to finish so quickly, Saoirse?" asked Talon purely out of interest. 'It's a talent, Talon. Something I've always had a knack for' Jarakh then began a transport spell which the others joined in on, to lend extra power and stop Jarakh from taking the full brunt of that much power. Then, in a puff of smoke, they all transported simultaneously to the bottom floor of the ExtraPlanar Building. Tyrlis immediately took out a wand and divined the direction of the shields. Arak cast a spell to locate doors or trapdoors or any number of exits down into the basement. The rest of the party stood guard while these two worked. "I have a reading on the power level of that shield. That's one hell of a shield. This Darmal guy is one seriously strong mage. I've never seen anything like this power!" Arak pointed over to one side of the wall. A door's mechanism clicked and swung open with a creaking sound. They moved down the tunnel beyond the door in a line , watching very7 carefully for any traps or anything that could cause them trouble. They could all feel the power radiating from the room below them as a beacon. Jarakh, Chief Ponticar and Master of the Council had rarely seen such a display of raw power before, even. They arrived at another door. It swung open before them and there, in a chair, quietly smoking a cigar and looking directly at them contemptably was Darmal. He was quite relaxed. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Have a seat. Enjoy the show." They were stunned to the last. There hadn't even been the slightest indication that they had been traced or spotted or anything as far as they could tell. But this man had found them Jarakh turned to Talon. "Ever seen him before?" he asked quickly. "Definitely not. Don't know who he is." Darmal arose out of his chair. "Well, I guess the game's up, humans ", he said wrily. "You, Darmal, Mage of unknown authority are charged with spying and betraying the Council of Magira ", said Arak," and furthermore " Darmal turned and levelled a blast of Power at Arak before any of them could even react. It ploughed through Arak's defenses, practically ignoring them, and hit the mage full in the chest. Arak screamed briefly before his chest was blown through and the far wall took the remaining impact of the blast. The reaction was instantaneous. They all levelled their most potent attack spells at Darmal, with the intent of utterly destroying him, only to watch in dismay as each of the spells were simply soaked up by his shielding as though nothing had happened. Tyrlis suddenly fell back in realisation and horror. "Yes, young magician, it is true ", said Darmal darkly , " Why don't you tell them what happened to young Arak there" he pointed at the smouldering corpse. Tyrlis stood mutely looking at him, then cleared her throat. "There is a theory among many of the Lore college that the gods themselves, as well as some of their minions, have the ability to use an energy named primal energy or base energy. It is better than mortal magic and protects them completely from our spells. It also allows them to bypass our defenses. Primal has it's own type of signal that is way off the scale of normal detection. That's what he's surrounded by. He's a god." The rest just looked at Darmal as he smiled from ear to ear. Talon spoke up. "Despite his treatment of that poor fellow, Arak, I must admire one of such power. BUT, I too know of the theories behind Primal. It is strong stuff, but gods have a very difficult time using it in Nexus. Isn't that right, Darmal? That is why the gods don't walk the land every day of the week. Nexus draws upon your primal powers and -" Darmal moved to obliterate Talon, but this time Saoirse got the better of him and cast a spell of destruction at the roof above his head just an instant before Darmal's spell was to fly. The roof came crashing down suddenly, and the six mages quickly transported themselves out of there. Darmal looked up and swore. He too quickly cast a fast teleportation. His body warped back to it's natural state, a silvery humanoid, involuntarily before he left. Out on the street, there was a sudden appearance of mages. Sentel called through to Jarakh suddenly. "Sir, the Power has just fled. Reports indicate that the power base behind the two just crumbled also" 'What sort of status are we in?' "Well, sir, I've just seen a communication directed from one part of the war to another. The Two have surrendered.' 'Any sign of Darmal' 'No, sir. His life crystal is still off the bands. There was some extraplanar activity occured in your vicinity a short time ago. Maybe he left through a portal or something' Jarakh broke contact. "Well, it seems that the battles have stopped. Gods above it's cold out here. The Winter must be coming in quickly. The two rebel Masters have apparently sued for peace. They're surrendering. This where my job comes in. Come on, you three, it's time to go clean up" He indicated Kalis, Jemmon and Tyrlis. "But what about Arak?" Kalis hasd tears in his eyes. "There's nothing we can do for him, son", said Talon," Let him be, he's gone to a better place" Kalis didn't seemt too sure of that, but he decided to accept it. 'Jarakh, call an Assembly meeting about this as soon as possible. I've a distinct feeling that this isn't over yet' Saoirse warned. The Ponitcars departed. -- 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 MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir-the-Love-Stricken-and-happy) Subject: [Town Crier] Hear Ye! Hear Ye! Announcement Message-ID: Date: Tue, 11 May 1993 14:34:48 GMT In the Plaza of Glittering Steel, a town crier arrives, and stands upon his pedestal with an important announcement for the populace at large. "HEAR YE! HEAR YE! Gather all ye men and women. On this day, it is announced that, by order of Melwis the Wise, Merchant Lord of Generica, that, in celebration of weathering the storm and the upcoming Generica day, founding day of this great city of ours, let it be known that a festival will be held throughout the city tomorrow night in the Square near the East Gate and other places also, where there will be provided wine and song , ale and cheer, performers and dance, and food. All those within the borders of Generica are hereby invited to said party, which will have many fireworks to follow. HEAR YE! HEAR YE!" And, with that said, the Crier moves on his way to another place of people to announce the birthday party. --------------------------------------------------------------------- ADMIN: Happy Birthday APD-I (Premature but what the heck) -- 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 MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kring@efes.physik.uni-kl.de (Thomas Kettenring) Subject: [Bazaar/Inn] Bakr visits Brycur Message-ID: <1993May11.143139.5961@rhrk.uni-kl.de> Date: Tue, 11 May 1993 14:31:39 GMT Characters used: Bakr, Brycur, Kloote, Medor, some dwarves, a pickpocket Characters mentioned: Felchek, Luthor, Serene, Mista Bakr waved his wand around and rolled his eyes fiercely while walking through the Low City. He didn't want to be mugged again. It worked - he wasn't robbed. One courageous street urchin managed to pinch his purse though, but Bakr didn't notice it. He looked for Felchek's lab for a long time but couldn't find it. Finally he realized that he had been walking past it several times but had not recognized it because the silver statue in front of it was missing as well as part of the building. A neighbor, a dwarven smithy whose language was as untouched by grammar as his body by soap, informed Bakr that Felchek "gone has but I where know not." Great, the mage thought, this is the second time I came here for nothing. He went further to the West, through lanes that were partly blocked by what before the storm had been walls of houses, and looked for the Bazaar. He hadn't been there yet but he found it at once, so it wasn't before long that he could shake hands with Brycur, who was in the process of selling some of the exotic foods he had obtained while at Cormyr to a particularly haughty little dwarf. "How's business?" Brycur grinned whiled at the sight of his old friend, he extended his hand to Bakr who quickly grasped and shook it. "Bakr, my friend, how have you been?" "I just wanted to say goodbye. I'll leave this plane and go home. This place is too... spooky for me. It's... well, it's not home, you know. Not that you misunderstand me, I like you and Luthor very much, and some others, but..." "I can understand you well. Talking about Luthor, do you know he bought a house in the Elven quarter and lives there with Serene and Mista? They had a big party. You would have liked it." "Hm. That would have been more pleasant than the rat hunt I was on, I guess." "Well, I'm sure he would love to see you before you depart for home. I can direct you there if you would like." Brycur's customer started to murmur something in Dwarven and twisted his eyebrows in an impatient way, so Bakr said, "Thanks, but I guess I'll find it. I wanted to visit the Dragons Inn anyway to say goodbye to those I know there, and they will probably have more time than you... So long, Brycur. I'll try to come back some day." The two friends clasped hands again and embraced quickly before Bakr set off for the Inn. Brycur returned to his business, memories of their long journey together flowed through his mind like an endless river, filling him with both joy and sadness. He would miss his old friend, that was for certain. ---- Some time later, the door of the Inn opened, and in came Bakr. At one of the tables sat a tall elderly man in a purple cloak, a sort of lizard on his arm, and got rather pale when their eyes met. -- Bakr ibn Ja'far ibn Musa al Mekneshi, apprentice mage aka Thomas Kettenring and Brycur the Merchant aka Peter Bruce Harper MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan) Subject: [Karl] Ashes to ashes... Message-ID: <1993May11.183653.22731@midway.uchicago.edu> Date: Tue, 11 May 1993 18:36:53 GMT "Uncle Karl?" Dougl knocked timidly on the door of Karl's cottage. He visited Karl every week or so, eagerly exchanging with him his experiences at St. Cuthbert Military Academy for Karl's recollections of his adventures and journeys. Usually Karl waited for Dougl on the steps of the Diplomatic Hostel, but today the Hostel's butler, Paul, had directed Dougl to seek him in his previous abode. Hearing no response to his knocks, Dougl tried the handle of the door. It opened, and Dougl entered the quartermaster's modest domicile. As always, the room was filled with sacks of tools and other items, not cluttered but prudently organized. On Karl's writing desk lay an open book- a diary, next to which lay a quill and a pot of ink. A battered but proudly polished shield was displayed on one wall, flanked by a clumsy-looking ornamental sword and, on the other side, a simpler but more useable blade. Laying in the bed was Karl. He had risen his head when Dougl entered, and reached for a pillow to support his back. Although he smiled cheerfully at his guest, his face was very pale and his normally round, robust cheeks looked sallow. "Uncle Karl!" Dougl cried out. "Are you all right? Shall I go and fetch the physician?" Karl smiled kindly. "There will be no need. A Brother Apothecary has already visited. He gave me this elixir," he said, indicating a cup of steaming tea. "That, at least, will make things a little easier." For a moment Karl's eyes lost focus and he stared blankly at the wall, as if recalling a distant image. Dougl approached his former guardian. "Then... you're about to leave this world for the higher one?" He used the euphemism favored by one of his instructors at the paladin school. Grinning weakly, Karl responded, "Is that how the men of the cloth prefer to put it? When I was a soldier back in Sanakin, oh, this must have been thirty years ago, before a battle we used to talk about how we would want to die. Most of the men would bellow some courageous-sounding nonsense about wanting to die with their boots on, and I would voice something similar, but always secretly I always hoped that when I died it would be in the company of friends and loved ones." He fingered the crystal amulet around his neck. "Only once did I ever change my mind about that." Removing the amulet from his neck, he held it out to Dougl. "This crystal was given to me by a friend, Daxx. Perhaps you remember him from the Dragon's Inn a year ago? This would have been about the same time you had that unfotunate run-in with the Rameshanders. He gave it some kind of magical power, so that whenever I look into it I can see my wife, Sirvia. In a short while I will be separated from her no longer, so I give this gift to you, Dougl. Keep it well, and whenever you are lonely or mourn for friends or loved ones, this crystal will remind you of them and comfort you." "Whenever I see you, dear Dougl, I see so much of your father in you. Energetic, brave, ever eager for new experiences. When I first met Aron, he must have been about your age now. He had left his family's farm up in Vascondy and wanted to go out and see the world." Karl chuckled. "He wouldn't have made it as far as Aragat if Rowan and I hadn't seen fit to take him under our wing." Reminiscing, Karl raised his eyes to the ceiling and grinned broadly. "There he was, in the Tavern at Terse's Bridge, drowning his prudence in more mead than is proper for a lad of that age, and loudly proclaiming all of these big ambitions." Karl sighed, looking at Dougl. "And he did have many a-splendid adventure, and he saw many things, and did battle with fearsome monsters, and now he lies prematurely buried in the side of some valley somewhere. He had found a wonderful girl with a good head on her shoulders, and yet he still insisted on going out and getting himself into trouble." Wryly shaking his head, Karl continued. "Your mother was right to remove you from my house and send you off to school. I thought I could teach you a trade and set you on the safer path, but I couldn't keep my eye on you all the time and I allowed you to get in trouble one too many times. My failing, though, will be your improvement. One of these days you'll be ordained as a paladin- a pillar of the community and an example of virtue." "So, you listen to that mother Lyra of yours, and you take good care of her. And watch out for yourself, too. Dare ye to become a man. A man whom other men will be delighted to know, a leader whom others would gladly follow. With each rising sun and every shining moon, wonder how ye can make yourself more than you are." "But in each glorious triumph do not let your chest swell with bloating pride. A chaplain I once knew used to say, 'All of the great rivers of the lands flow into the sea, for it is lower than they.' The lesson is that there is strength in humility." After resting for a few moments, Karl spoke again. "Would you be so kind as to hand me that teacup? Thank you. The Apothecary, when he came, said that I burned my innards with too much strong drink over the years. I drank in celebration, and my carelessness cost me my wife. I drank in sorrow, and my carelessness cost me my health. Now I drink to atone." With these words Karl drained his teacup and settled back in bed. His throat twitched once, then was still as Karl's last breath escaped his lips. Dougl wept at the loss of his father-figure, mentor and friend. Murmuring a simple but sincere prayer, Dougl honored the soul and memory of Karl son of Karol, then rose to his feet to find a clergyman for the funerary rites. He exited the cottage and walked down the Arcade of Fountains toward the Plaza of Glittering Steel. In the Plaza, there was in progress a great civilization. A military band played and happy townspeople cheerfully mingled, danced, ate and sang songs. With a brilliant flash and a puff of smoke a light shot up from behind Glorshanned Keep and all beheld the pyrotechnic spectacle. Happy birthday, Generica. Rest in peace, Karl. 1992-1993. You will be remembered. -- Dennis Brennan djb6@midway.uchicago.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@lamar.ColoState.EDU (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] Palandun: Meetings. Message-ID: Date: Tue, 11 May 1993 19:57:06 GMT References: <1993May11.143139.5961@rhrk.uni-kl.de> ADMIN: Due to a previous agreement, I'm going to pickup and drag along Jorma's character for a while. If he seems a little insular, that's 'cause he's not my character. This is also Bakr's jumping in point. Barring somebody coming up with a better name, I want to call this the NTY thread. Send me mail if you have a better idea. In our last episode Palandun said: "Dangit, I need an assistant!" Or words to that affect. What was not reported was that he said "Ooops, 'scuse me," immediately thereafter. Palandun stepped around the hooded child and continued with his conversation. "You wouldn't mind -'scuse me again- helping me out would you?" "I would indeed mind!" Ja'nis said, "If you expect me to go back there ever again your noggin needs fixing." Palandun assumed that was a no. "I'll do it." It took the two of them a second or so to realize that the voice came from the child. "I can't pay you much." Palandun said. "Work is long and disgusting with no glory whatsoever." The child just shrugged. "You're hired. What's your name?" "Jorma G- just Jorma. Are you a Bismanian?" "Matter of fact I am." "Me too." "Really, cool. I came from It-Atta, up on mount tall on the big island. where are you from?" Jorma wouldn't specify, though. Ja'nis was hungry, and suggested the three of them retire to the inn for food. Palandun agreed, on the condition that he didn't have to eat Grakma. The three of them sat next to a lizardman, who (and how he did this Palandun couldn't figure out) suddenly paled for no apparent reason. "So, what do you know about rats?" Palandun asked Jorma, a little louder than he would have planned to. MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] [Pitzar] A Meeting, and Flight! Date: Tue, 11 May 93 17:30:20 CDT Message-ID: <16BCBF62C.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu> Keywords: [AU] [Pitzar] Andrea Sheryl unicorn Jake Pitzar transition ADMIN: Little chronological notice here. The party that is going to take place, with all the demons and odd happenstances, takes place the night after Kardia has completed the breaking of Sheryl's curse. This post takes the [AU] thread up to that night. Just wanted to make that clear. The sun was as high as the average buffer street kid when Jake set out for the pasture where the unicorns had been sighted. He maintained a steady pace, knapsack on his back, and ere long he'd left the small town behind him. The edge of the Mill Stream pasture was trampled over a hundred times by footprints of all shapes and descriptions. He knelt and looked at the mud, rubbed a dirt clod through his fingers. His shadow was dark on the black mud. It wasn't long before he heard someone shout, "Hey!" and turned to see the leader of a small band of men, women, and children, dressed in peasants' clothes, coming toward him from the north. He turned, keeping his hands visible (you never could tell, people could be rather touchy sometimes). "Yeah?" Jake asked. "You seen any unicorns around?" the man asked. "No..." Jake said. "I was rather hoping you had. I'd heard you were out looking for them and I thought I'd join you." The man shrugged. "Look all you want. Young Howarth saw two of them running through this pasture. We haven't found sign of 'em yet..." "Hey, hey, over here!" one of the men yelled. "Look--tracks!" "All right! Let's go!" The man turned, and they moved off along the newly-found trail. Jake Pitzar just watched them go, noticing the ropes and nets some of them were carrying, and shook his head. On the off-chance that they were able to sneak up on the unicorns (as if a party that size could sneak up on a stone wall), he doubted that they would be able to catch them or keep them with ordinary means. At least, he secretly hoped not. He looked in that direction and found a set of hoofprints that had been flanked rather than trampled on. This was what they were hunting. Jake walked up to the tracks, knelt beside them. Chuckled wryly. "I wonder when unicorns started wearing size double-ought horseshoes." He straightened up again, shouldered his pack, moved on. By an hour or so later, he had covered a lot of ground, and no more tracks had he seen. He'd crossed over a small brook (he wondered if it was the same one that the barkeep had mentioned?) and continued onward, and he was beginning to wonder if the unicorns had really been here at all. But then he stumbled onto the tracks. A trail of them, two sets, spaced far enough apart that it looked like they had been at a dead gallop. No shoes, but no deformities either...the hooves seemed perfectly formed, both large and small. This was it. The air smelled of sweet green grass. The tracks stretched out like the arc of an overshot arrow, falling, curving, bending away into the distance. He shifted the pack on his back and started running, following them. He only hoped that he got there before the hunting party did. Sheryl stood bolt upright, hearing the footfalls an instant before Andrea, who was then on her own feet as well, grabbing her crossbow and taking aim at the stranger who was running toward them. "Hold it!" Andrea called out. "Just hold on a minute." The man pulled up short, hands in the air. His voice was raspy and dry. "Godsdammit! Don't shoot! I'm a friend!" "Right," Andrea said. "What do YOU think, Sheryl?" The little 'corn peered at him, then snorted. It was obvious that she believed him. "Well, all right..." Andrea said, lowering the weapon. "Sheryl seems to trust you." Jake lowered his hands. "The name's Jake Pitzar." The brook was clean and clear, and the sun filtered through the treetops onto the grass that swayed slightly in the breeze. "Out on a picnic?" he said. Andrea shrugged. "Seemed like a nice enough place to eat lunch." Jake nodded. "Sure. Nice for you and me. But, er..." He indicated Sheryl with one hand. "It seems that some of the local hicks thought they saw a unicorn. They took all the ropes and nets in the surrounding twelve fifes to come after you." With a sigh, Andrea started making sure her equipment was together (never quite turning her back on Jake). "Never fails. Someone sights Sheryl and bingo, the whole area is after her." "Isn't there another 'corn around?" Jake asked. "The locals said they sighted two." Andrea shook her head. "Must have been a trick of the light or something...Sheryl here is the only unicorn I know about around here." Yet her answer seemed strangely subdued... Jake's face narrowed. He could follow the tracks up to the creekbank, back over to the tree, and...hmm. The larger 'corn's tracks went up to the tree, but didn't lead away from it. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. And he noticed that the small unicorn, Sheryl, the woman had called her, was watching him very closely. Jake looked the woman over. She was fairly tall, attractive, and had dark hair that fell to about the middle of her back. She was wearing a dark suit of leather, and carried some daggers, a shortsword, and a crossbow...probably a thief, he thought. "I'm Jake Pitzar," he said again. This time she took the hint. "Andrea." She closed her pack and looked Jake up and down. He had a grimy, stained doublet pulled over him, a threadbare short cloak thrown over his shoulder, and a belt that had been patched in so many places it looked as if it had been made that way. But his eyes were dark brown and his face was distressingly focussed. He only had four fingers on his left hand, but he seemed to move it away instinctively when she noticed it. "Nice to meet you, Jake. What are you doing way out here?" He shrugged. "Same as you...out for a walk." Sheryl snorted. Jake raised an eyebrow. Andrea turned to face him, hand on the hilt of her shortsword. "I think that Sheryl says there's something you're not telling us." Her eyes flashed a stunning deep blue for a moment, as blue as the small 'corn's eyes, which startled Jake. He shrugged. "Okay, so I'm not just wandering around. I saw the locals headed this way and I thought I might do you a..." Andrea and Sheryl did not move. Something in the air changed, some tension was released, something had broken, and for a moment, Jake stood straight up. He dropped back into his habitual slouch almost immediately. "And, I've got a professional interest in 'corns. I'm with the EXAMINER." "A reporter." Andrea said. It wasn't a question. "Yeah, that's what it is." Jake said. Andrea nodded. "All right." She glanced from Jake to Sheryl. "And you wouldn't have any...designs upon her yourself, would you?" "Only as a story." A half-smile flickered across Jake Pitzar's face. "Unicorns are big news, bigger now that there are so few left. And everyone likes to read about a unicorn. Everybody wants to hear that everything's going to be all right, and unicorns say that to them." Sheryl snorted again, but this time it was more in disgust than in suspicion. Andrea laughed. "Okay," she said, "you can tag along if you want, and you can have your story. But I get a veto on anything that gets put into it--there are enough interesting facts about us without getting personal. And I would appreciate it if you would hold off on publishing it for a time." Jake shrugged. "I don't even know if it'll get published at all. Hell, another storm hits, we're page 12 news. But yeah, whatever you say." He shrugged. "I guess that's an offer I can't refuse. Come on, let's get out of here." He pointed north, across the brook. "There's a small town near here, where we could find food and shelter..." Andrea shook her head. "No...not a town. Not now, not for a few days." "Why?" Jake asked. Andrea faltered. "I--I don't know why. I just know that I can't stay in or near a town. I need a few days...time out here under the open sky. Time to...to adapt." "Adapt to what?" Jake asked. His eyes turned to the deep blue sky and the single grey cloud that rested now far to the east. Andrea shook her head. "I don't know." Sheryl nickered, looking back in the direction opposite the creek. "What? What is it, girl?" Andrea asked. "Someone coming?" "Hold on...I'll check." Jake pulled himself up into one of the trees looked around. "Uh-oh." He slid back down again and shouldered his pack, leaves drifting down around his hasty descent. "What is it?" Andrea asked, sword half-drawn. Jake's voice was low, barely over the noise of the burbling brook, which, unconscious of the tension, was filling the air with plops and rippling noises. "It's the people who were looking for the unicorns. They're perhaps a mile or two back--only the tall grasses in the way have prevented them from seeing you already." Jake shook his head. "We've got to go. There are maybe twenty of them, and they have ropes, nets, and maybe some weapons." Andrea swore, her eyes flashing bluer than ever. "We've got to run...got to escape..." She shook her head nervously, grabbed her backpack and slung it on. "Sheryl, let's run!" Sheryl nickered shrilly. They turned, started to run, and Jake was right behind them. They splashed across the stream, started running up the bank...Jake swore as he stumbled over a rock and pitched right into Andrea, landing on her back and bearing her to the ground. Then Jake wasn't lying on Andrea's back, he was lying across the back of a unicorn who was struggling to her feet! Rather than fall off, Jake swore silently and grabbed the mane, a long double handful. "This is crazy," he muttered, pulling himself up to a sitting position as the unicorn pulled itself up. They cast a long shadow back over the brook. Both unicorns broke into a sudden gallop! Jake swore to himself. There HAD been a second unicorn...and he was on her back. The landscape sped by. Jake stopped glancing around with eyes narrowed like a crazed paranoiac noble out on the town, but didn't stop looking around. The last time he had ridden bareback was longer than he liked to remember, but he remembered it as being much more uncomfortable than this. The unicorns floated across the hilly countryside like silk on glass. Jake marvelled at Sheryl's speed as well--even though the larger 'corn was going so fast she was almost flying, somehow the smaller one was keeping up. He shook his head. "You never can tell with magic," he muttered, and almost smiled. Jake woke up. The sun was low in the sky, turning red as it slanted down behind the hills. He had fallen asleep sometime in the warm afternoon. He shook his head. "Hell of a place to take a nap." he muttered. The shadow of the forest had passed by and the grassland was now flat and even. They had come a long way north and east, and were now approaching some kind of house or small building. Jake sat up, blinked a couple of times, and groaned as he felt muscles protesting from their enforced durance in one position for a long period of time. He groaned, and slid from the unicorn's back as she came to a stop in front of the building, spine crackling. "Arr..." he growled, trying to unkink his back. The unicorn snorted, peered at him. "Oh, uh, right...I'm okay," he said. "Uh, hmm, why don't I just go check out this place." He turned to walk toward it, and then heard a groan behind him. He turned back, and saw Andrea slump to the ground where the unicorn had been moments before. "Unnhhh..." she groaned, getting to her feet. "I feel sore all over..." She looked around. "What--? How the hell did we get here?" "I don't understand it either. But it looks like it's getting on towards dark." The house glowed orange in the rays of the dying sun. Jake looked at Andrea very carefully. He looked as if he were going to speak, then turned and readjusted his knapsack painfully. Sheryl snorted, but Andrea was too tired to pay her heed. "Gah...I ache in places I didn't know I had. It was that way this morning, too..." "Wherever we are, there's some sort of house here...I wonder what it is?" "Let's find out." Andrea did some stretching exercises to limber up, then drew her shortsword. "Come on." She walked up to the house, pushed on the door. It was a small farmhouse, Jake saw. It had one story and perhaps an attic, and there was a dilapidated barn with an old split-log-fenced corral standing nearby. It didn't look like it had seen use for years. After a cursory inspection, Andrea and Jake concluded that the house had been deserted several years before. There were no signs of violence, or human remains, and the place was not in too much disarray--it was simply as though the previous occupants had just packed up and left. There was only a bit of furniture remaining, and no provisions or tools of any kind. "I guess we'll stay here for the night," Andrea said. "It ought to be nice and dry. In places, anyway; I imagine that the roof would leak some in a storm...but there is a nice fireplace here." Jake nodded. "I'll go outside and see about getting some of that old fence for use as firewood. I don't think whoever built this place will mind." Andrea nodded. "Sounds like a good idea, go for it." She sat down on one of the two or three rough wooden chairs that remained. "I'll be right here, with Sheryl." Once outside, Jake went over to the fence, pulled out a piece of parchment, and held it against the flat top of one of the fenceposts. He began to write... ---------- Mr. Heartwell, Well, I found the unicorns. I said I would and ye gods I have. I'm with them now, and their human companion too. A shady type, but looks to have gone fairly straight, I don't think we can get a gossip piece out of this one. No, this one is real, I think. Hope this is coming through all right, we traveled a long way today. We're staying in some sort of abandoned farmstead several hours' fast gallop northeast of Generica--probably several days' normal travel. Well, say hello to the boys in the back room for me and I will write more when I can. Jake ---------- The stars came out, one by one, bright pinpricks of light in their familiar patterns, a wildly blazing array of tiny glowing white specks. Andrea looked out at Jake tugging at another fencepost, watched him stop, lean back, and look into the sky as if looking into the face of an old friend, one thought long dead. -- Chris Meadows || NOTICE: I will be gone for two CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || or three weeks, starting on Fri- CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || day, May 14 and ending in early CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || June. Sorry for any inconvenience. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [AU] Curse[s] Foiled Again! Message-ID: <1993May11.162138.5986@data-io.com> Keywords: Kardia, Sheryl Date: Tue, 11 May 1993 16:21:38 GMT On the second day of her silence, Kardia woke when it was still dark outside. She dressed and used the bathroom and washing facilities while most of the Inn was still dark. By the time she had her breakfast from a yawning Mary Littlefair, the sky was just lightening. Kardia closeted herself with her materials and tools. She had almost half the second rear leg covering done from knitting while the conversations, stories, and songs flowed the night before in the Inn's taproom. She smiled a bit at the memory of Kadrys' company. His quiet presense had kept away the comments about knitting in an adventurer's bar; and he'd ordered for her. She was still a little puzzled as to why he hadn't ordered anything for himself. She'd found him, occasssionally, watching her instead of the storytellers or Listener and she'd wondered why as well. The memory of the feel of his hand in hers brought another blush to her cheeks. She smiled a little to herself, enough mysteries to tempt a dozen cats. Alistair's favorite phrase brought a slight pang and then a smile. She sighed and got down to work. The second rear leg was finished when Kardia heard the sound of small hooves on the wooden floor and the door to her room opened and let Sheryl bounce into the room. The little unicorn nickered in greeting and bounded over to the bed to look at what Kardia had finished. Kardia smiled and then laughed softly at the look on Sheryl's face as the little 'corn contemplated the slightly crumpled lace leggings, which was all that Kardia had finished up to this point. Kardia got up off the bed, and took the leggings with her and washed them gently in the washbasin. Then, taking a box of pins from the things that 'Raelf had given her, she pin the leggings onto the bedcover according to the measurements that were on her parchments. Sheryl blinked blue eyes at the now rather more shapely lace leggings and nickered her approval. She soon left, bored by Kardia's stitch by stitch construction. The morning saw the making of the right front leg, which was more slender than the hind legs and, therefore, faster. Sheryl trotted in and out during the afternoon, not really disrupting anything, but seeing how Kardia was going with the second front leg with a touch of impatience. Kadrys had looked in occassionally, and Kardia had been intrigued to see that Sheryl was uncomfortable around him. He didn't stay for any long stretch, which seemed to suit the little unicorn just fine. Kardia found herself missing his quiet company. After dinner in her room with the light of the lamp, Kardia managed the first third of the single piece that would cover the back and sides of the little 'corn. She woke early again and finished the rest of the back and sides by just after lunch time. The early afternoon had Kardia working up the chest and neck, which she finished only after dinner. That night she went out to find Andrea and Sheryl to tell Andrea to tell Sheryl that Kardia wanted her in Kardia's room at first dawn. Kardia just ate in her room as she worked on the fastenings and blocking of all the pieces that she'd finished so far by the clear light of the oil lamp. Kardia was woken the next morning with a silk soft muzzle in her palm. She smiled at Sheryl's dancing eagerness, and got dressed quickly and went right to work. Food could wait until this was done. Gently, thoroughly, Kardia worked, stitch by stitch along Sheryl's face, going up to the little 'corn to measure and compare. She did her best to only make the filly stand still for ten minutes at a time. The little filly tapped around the room while Kardia worked each row between measurements. The toughest part was the part around Sheryl's horn, and Kardia took extra care there, a few fingers of thread at a time. When she got past Sheryl's eyes, the long part of Sheryl's face was easy. The last of the covering for Sheryl's muzzle was almost a boring conclusion to what had gone on before. The piece that would fit over Sheryl's head was washed and pinned to dry while Kardia started putting the other pieces on the restive filly. Instead of her voice, Kardia used her soft hands to sooth the silken soft creature. Piece by piece, she built the whole on the filly. Tying the pieces on with the supports that she'd made, slipping a band between the split hooves to keep the leggings centered on the filly's slender legs. The back and sides were laid carefully on with Kardia's eye to the magical patterns in full focus. She made absolutely sure that the white lines of her threads matched up with what she saw as the black lines of the curse. She then tied up the small ties along Sheryl's belly and at the tops of her legs to the top side. The neck piece was next, with ties to the sides and the under Sheryl's chest. Kardia had to be very careful not to tie the Sheryl's mane into the ties that secured the neck piece as the cream white of the thread blended in fairly well with the sea foam white of the mane. The whole proceedure took enough time for the head section to dry. Then, very gently, Kardia slipped the lacy face section over the pearl shell beauty of Sheryl's horn and used the fact that knitting stretches to pull it over Sheryl's nose. Kardia carefully smoothed the mask around Sheryl's eyes and face to fit the contours of the black lines. Once the ties under Sheryl's chin were in place, Kardia stepped back to take a look. She grinned a little wryly. It looked very strange to see a unicorn dressed in anything. Then Kardia realized that she'd done the job she'd intended as the suit was almost a second skin to the little unicorn, moving as she moved and breathing with each breath. The unicorn took a step or two forward and then shook herself once. Kardia's magic sight, for just an instant, saw all the white lines of her work line up even with the black lines of the curse on and within Sheryl; and then the black lines were gone. Unspectacular as everything else Kardia had done to break the curse, the magic of the cover was done. Kardia stepped forward and started taking Sheryl out of the cover. A blue eye rolled in Kardia's direction as if to say, "Is that all?" Kardia laughed, blinked and then swallowed and said, huskily, "That's it, Sheryl. That's all there is." Sitting on the floor, crosslegged next to the little unicorn, Kardia went through the rather faster task of taking her contruction apart, to free the 'corn of the cloth. When Sheryl was completely free of it, she danced a movement so beautiful that it brought an ache to Kardia's throat. Kardia sat and just smiled, a little light-headed with lack of food and sleep. She was completely unprepared for Sheryl's frantic whinny of distress and could only stare as Sheryl galloped out of Kardia's room. Karda leaped to her feet and had to stop as her hunger and tiredness made the world shift and sway. She caught her balance on the chair, and then realized that her leg had fallen asleep while she sat to take off the cover. Feeling rather better now that she could swear at her leg, she swore at it as she followed the rattle of hooves to the room Andrea shared with Sheryl. What Kardia saw there silenced her. ---- [ADMIN: The conclusion of this is in Chris Meadows' piece titled _The Curse_ in the [AU] line. Much thanks to Chris for something cool to play off of, and I'm sorry that this all is later than it might be...] -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [MG] Laughter in Low City Message-ID: <1993May11.164409.6616@data-io.com> Date: Tue, 11 May 1993 16:44:09 GMT [ADMIN: Vic is the copyrighted creation of Stephen Hutchison and is used with his permission. Thanks, Hutch. Joy is mine, though magically touched by Bernie Hsiung. The others are low city NPC's created on the fly, though I rather like Bondie and Jessica. Grin. And go ahead and add Joy to the rolls. And, Dreamer, this is, in a way, for you and your anniversary, a bit early, to be sure, but what the heck... spring is finally here and I feel pretty good. ;) I hope you enjoy it.] ---- One spring day there was the sound of laughter in a low city street. She danced down the street, watching the light dance with her off the spinning pinwheel, all silver and red. Her breath was the wind that sent it dancing and her body the flying beauty. Further down the street there was shouting. "TOM!" A slender man balanced on joists tweleve feet in the air, turned with the grace of an cat, "What?!" "LOOK OUT!!" Without looking he dropped from the joists, caught his weight with his arms and hands on the joists and then dropped the rest of the way. Tom heard the section of roof hit the joists with a crash. He hit the floor with a jolt that went all the way up his legs. The pain only served to fuel the rage that burst from his fear. He sprinted out the door and ran into someone that he then shoved hard. The manager of the roof crew hit the ground hard and mad. He bounced up swinging. "Fight!" "Fight!" "Fight!" A crowd gathered to watch the entertainment. A girl danced down the street with a red and silver pinwheel, straight towards the fight. A rough clad man on the edge of the crowd blinked at the unfamiliar sight and then tried to catch her shoulder, "Miss, you don't want ta be goin' that way." She smiled a brilliant smile at him and danced away with a giggle. The rough man swore, which brought him the attention of others in the crowd. He pointed at the girl and was both gratified and surprised when others in the crowd moved to try and keep her safe, away from the fight. The slip of a girl whirled away from all of them, seemingly bound and determined to get hurt. Six people looked at her and then looked at each other in concert and six people stepped into the fight and pulled the two men apart. No one was hurt, and after things had calmed down, the rough clad man realized that he hadn't seen the girl after he'd stepped into help stop the fight. Much later, he and the other five who had broken up the fight found a bright gold piece with a tiny, colored paper pinwheel slipped into their clothing. None had felt the thief's touch that had placed them there. * * * Vic walked down the street, sore and tired and discouraged by his long day at work. There was still a long ways to go before he'd be able to fix and finish his own house, and at the rate that the money was accumilating, it felt like forever. The knowledge that all he was going home to was a dark, empty, half completed house didn't make his feet move any faster. "Hey, Vic!" Vic found himself striding a little longer, just trying to get away from Quinn's voice, but it didn't work. The hard tap on his shoulder came anyway. "Hey, Vic, why you don't go out with us anymore? Not good 'nuff for you?" The tone was half laughter as Quinn came up even to Vic. Vic then saw that Quinn had a hand around the wrist of his girl, Cadie. "Nah," said Vic, "I'm just trying to cut down." Quinn laughed. "Right. Cuttin' down. That woman's ruining your life, you know. You're givin' up all your fun for her, and she isn't even going to come back. She's got you by the balls, Vic, and you can't even see it." "Nah." said Vic, flatly, suddenly finding his heartbeat going up. He stared at the cobblestones under his feet, "You've got that wrong." "You got it wrong, Vic. You gotta train 'em, and if they don't listen..." he yanked lightly on Cadie's wrist, making her stumble to catch up, she giggled at the pull. "Hey, I still got my Cadie, you don't got anyone. Give up on that bitch and come for a drink... you can find someone else." Vic's eyes closed for a moment as his loneliness crashed down on him. He took a breath to accept when a laughing young girl ran headlong into him, knocking that breath from him. He automatically caught her in his arms to help both of them keep their balance. She was beautiful, her hair wild and free, and her gray eyes soft and bright. She laughed, blushed, glanced up at him, said a laughing "Sorry..." At the look, Vic let her go and she danced around Quinn and Cadie. Set next to Cadie, Vic suddenly saw just how tired, frightened, and hunched Cadie was. The darkness under one of her cheekbones, he saw, was actually a bruise. He shivered, then looked back at the free girl that he had held for that single moment. She ran and danced down the street. The music of her laughter was like a bird song. Arienna was... no, is like that, Vic thought with wonder. I love her like that, he thought, a hollowness running through his heart. He looked Quinn in the eye and said pleasantly, "No. I'm not going with you. I don't want to." Quinn shook his head, muttering something, but Vic didn't hear. Vic smiled to himself as he walked to the shell of his house, seeing the dancing grace of a laughing girl... * * * Laughter, running feet, and squeals of children at play. Daria smiled at the sounds eventhough she was tired and her long empty stomach was only a hard knot within her. Bondie ran in the front door chased by his sister Jessica and a teenage girl that was all leggy grace. They stampeded through the house, shouting with laughter and then whirled around Daria. "Hey, Momma, can she stay for dinner?" "Yeah, Momma, can she, can she, Pleeeeeeeeeeze?" Daria felt her stomach go hollow. There wasn't enough food to go around to begin with and another mouth to feed... The teen-age girl looked at Daria with eyes that had seen too many things and Daria heard the careful cheerfulness that was in the next words, "It's all right, Bondie... I kin find somethin' fer myself, boyo..." Daria took a good look at the too-skinny girl and with a pang recognized some of the same marks that were showing on her own kids. She sighed and then smiled. "It's all right." she said softly and met those gray eyes with her own brown ones and didn't flinch at the question. "We can make it be enough." "All RIGHT!" yelled Bondie. Jessie giggled and clapped her small hands. The teen-age girl grinned down at Jessica and stroked the little girl's hair with a carelessly fond touch. The look that Jessie gave the teenager blurred Daria's vision. Joy would've been that age... Impatiently, Daria rubbed the tears from her eyes, the hunger was making her too sentimental, but she smiled as she thought it. "Bondie, would you please get the potatos from the bin?" asked Daria as she got out the pot for the boil. "How many, momma?" Daria frowned, knowing that there were only a dozen tubers left, and it would be another day before she could get her skeins into the Weavers' Guild. "How about three? Jessie and I will share one." Bondie's face showed his disappointment for just a second. The teenage girl laughed and said, "I'll race you to the rootcellar!" and the two of them took off with Jessie trailing behind at a panting trot. A moment later Bondie shouted in surprise, "MOM! There's *stuff* in here. When'd you *get* all this?" "What?" Daria frowned, as far as she knew there wasn't anything down there other than the potatos and an onion or two. She walked over, careful with hunger. She'd had a dizzy spell earlier in the day and it was better to be safe than broken on the rough stairs. The kids were standing in front of the bin as she walked in. When Daria entered the room, Jessica turned. Daria stopped and her jaw dropped. The little girl had both hands around an apple that was as red as rubies but far more precious. The apple was about as big around as two adult fists held together. Bondie turned with an armload of brightly colored vegetables. The teenage girl was kneeling by a bin next to the one that which normally held the vegetables and fruit, and white-gold whole grain flour ran from her hands. The teenager turned and met Daria's eyes, looking a little proud and a little questioning at the same time. In shock, Daria walked over to the bins and kneeled next to them, the dizzyness back. She leaned forward and touched the hardness of potatos, turnips, yams, and carrots, the crispness of celery and lettuce, and the softness of the flour in the other bin. Their reality steadied her. The bins were only a third full, but fuller than she'd had them in a long time. Enough for a week or two if she were careful, more than enough to last them through 'til she was paid by the Guild again. "How..." she felt her voice trail off as her thoughts came back. She looked more closely at the teenaged girl. "Bondie, why don't you take what you have back upstairs? Oh, and take Jessie with you. And, no, Jessie, you can't eat that apple until after dinner... it'll..." she took a breath and found herself grinning, "...spoil your appetite." They both stood as the two children left. The teenage girl brushed the flour off her hands, back into the bin, Daria noted with an approval that edged by hysterical laughter or tears. "What... who are you?" asked Daria. "I *know* these were empty earlier this afternoon." "My... my father..." Daria saw the sudden fear in the girl's face and Daria frowned so as not to wince. "He... well, he wanted to call me Deirdre..." She looked at Daria with something like longing. Daria thought a moment, it didn't occur to her until later that she, maybe, should have been surprised at the answer. All she saw was the question in that girl's face. She quietly said, "I'd have called you Joy, if you'd been one of mine." The girl's face lit up. "Thank you," said the little goddess who was once despair but who now chose the name Joy. She hugged Daria tightly enough to squeeze most of the breath out of Daria and clattered up the stairs. Daria laughed and suddenly felt her tiredness and the worn hunger of her body fall away. She bent with a litheness she hadn't had since the death of her husband and daughter and picked up a ripe squash and four cobs of sweet corn from the bin and had fun running up the stairs herself. There was the sound of laughter in a small house in the low city. -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: cmeadows@nyx.cs.du.edu (Chris Meadows) Subject: Re: [AU] [Pitzar] A Meeting, and Flight! Message-ID: <1993May12.100216.17817@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Keywords: [AU] [Pitzar] Andrea Sheryl unicorn Jake Pitzar transition References: <16BCBF62C.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu> Date: Wed, 12 May 93 10:02:16 GMT Something I forgot to include in the previous post: acknowledgements. That post was co-written by myself and by Jake Pitzar's author, Jason D. Corley (corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu). And it was a whole lot of fun to write, too! -- Chris Meadows | Robotech/RIFTS/Palladium fanfic author/editor CHM173S@SMSVMA | They Might Be Giants about Star Trek aliens: CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU | "Everybody wants prosthetic foreheads CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU | on their real heads!" MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: jcarl@jabba.ess.harris.com (Joe Carl Jr.) Subject: [BBD] How could we have missed the Bracelet Message-ID: Date: Wed, 12 May 1993 12:00:45 GMT [ADMIN: This is a collaboration of efforts, and credits belong to Mike Sander, Dan Peters and a little effort by me] Kaalzic could scarcely believe his ears. After all this time searching Generica, Myrnien had apparently been found. And now came perhaps the hardest part: meeting up with these strangers and finding out what they knew. He advanced to the table, sticking to the shadows and trying to fight off a bit of nervousness. * * * * While Lancos ate, his eyes scanned the view in front of him. Besides the wall with the painting, it consisted mainly of people exiting and entering the inn. Most of it was not too interesting, which was why he was surprised when a woman -- and the unicorn he'd seen earlier -- ran out as if the inn was on fire. When Mary Littlefair neared the table next, he asked "What's up with her?" "Oh, Andrea said something about desiring to visit the woods." Lancos nodded as Mary went on with her duties. He himself had an urge to be in the forest, one based on his travelling lifestyle and probably enhanced by the medallion's natural instincts. However, the feeling had been partially satiated by the trip to 'Raelf's, and wasn't as strong as his desire to help out; to prove his capability to himself, and hopefully to Generica at the same time. The others at the table said nothing, though they could have each made their own remarks on the subject of solitariness. Darvos could have reflected on losing his family and hunting vampires alone; Kryalla on having to flee her homeland and friends; Lissa about her life in Low City. Lancos returned to the viewing, and thought he spotted something in the shadows. He blinked his eyes, unsure of what he thought he saw. When they were open again, light struck a form, and his guess was confirmed. The most noticable feature about the man was the wooden mask -- with slits for eyes, nostrils, and mouth -- on his face, followed by his black, curly hair. "Hello." the man said as he neared. "I heard you talking, and I want to find that woman with the star pendant you spoke of. Darvos looked at Lancos, and determined from the ranger's visage that this time they were all in the dark -- so to speak -- about the man's identity. Being thus somewhat suspicious, the mage asked "Who might be asking, and how are you involved in the matter?" Nervousness struck Kaalzic, as he felt the stares at him, probably unintentionally fixating on his mask. "Uh, that may be easier to explain using a painting, for which the one here ironically qualifies." He picked up the candle from the center of the table and held it up to the painting, a little to one side. "Back up a little," he said, "and, uh, lean a bit that way.... Do you see her?" Darvos suspiciously leaned back and watch the man to see if anything shady were about to happen, while Lancos followed the instructions given. He saw the shadows on the waves in the painting resolve themselves into the face of a woman with a defiant expression. The resemblance to the woman they had seen was remarkable. "Yes," he said, amazed at the talent. "That's the woman we ran into." Lissa looked at the correct angle, and gasped. "Wow, neat magic." "It is not magic." Kryalla corrected. "But it took me a long time to figure out how to do that." said Kaalzic. Darvos leaned forwared to to inspect the painting and was suitable impessed too. "So you're Kaalzic?" Lancos stated, mastering the seemingly obvious. Part of him wondered, but the only thing he could really do right now was trust. "Yes, and that's Myrnien, my sister. I haven't seen her since we had an argument about her convictions. So, can you direct me to her?" After the group made their own set of introductions to the newcomer, Lancos said, "Um, at best it would be a guess. We could tell you where we saw her last in Low City, but I doubt she's there any more." The painter sighed. He supposed he should almost expect it not to be easy. "Well, how about at least telling me how she was dressed." "Sure. I only saw her briefly, but I'll try my best. She wore a thigh-length chain hauberk, covering a light brown shirt and pants. You've heard about the star; besides that the only adornment or mark she had was..." he paused as a memory hit him, and continued in a softer, slower tone "a blue, runic bracelet." The warrior glanced at Darvos, whose mind was thinking along the same line, and who nodded at him. At Kaalzic's questioning look, the vampire studier answered it. "What my temporarily dumbstruck companion and I have just realized was that the mage we met -- and by that time Gutt Man -- also wore the same style of bracelet." "Yes." Lancos added, regaining his composure. "And since they're connected, that means we should work together. We're after the same people, and the bigger force we have, the more likely success will be. Kaalzic sighed again. He wondered what the others would think if he told them that the argument he had with his sister had been about preparedness for war -- not directly dealing with evil -- and that he now felt she was right. But he would have to see her, and they were right about strength in numbers. Even if Myrnien _had_ fallen to evil, he would try to make things right. Out of all his thoughts, his only words were "I'm in." -- Joe Carl Jr. "It ain't what a man don't know that makes him a jcarl@jabba.ess.harris.com fool, but what he does know that ain't so." -- Josh Billings MagicHutchHeader Date: Monday, 10 May 1993 15:43:35 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93130.154335344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Help Wanted, TWIR Style ADMIN: Folks, it's been a while since the last This Week in Review, though that's not entirely my fault. I was about to put one on today, when I realized something: among other problems (bounced e-mail/posts, addresses/people with whom I seem to be not connecting with at _all_), Recent Cases in point: 1) The Roah thread ended, with me apparently my site missing out on about 90% (estimate) of it 2) I saw Chris Meadows' Re:[AU] Raykor's Curse, without ever seeing the original post (which ruined the suspense, and part of the effect). 3) I've seen [L&S] Runaway 2-8, but never part 1. 4) Too many posts to count (including one from "my" thread) don't appear until as much as a week after they were put out , with no real rhyme or reason. And that's just the ones I _know_ about. I've no doubt that I've missed more, in a good number of the threads ([WTRT] and [JOI] in particular). So, I need (/would LOVE) help from y'all, via: a) a recommended new site to see everything from (assuming I can actually ftp to there) b) Summaries of what's gone on with the threads during the past week , c) Someone to volunteer to send be the posts I missed (I can get the numbers of the one I can view/have viewed). d) or any other form of assistance. I _definitely_ need this to continue the TWIR effectively; though I read everything that makes it to my site, it's becoming more and more obvious that that's not everything put on a.p.d-i. Either that or a replacement (And I hate to "pass the buck" and ask). And I would definitely like it for my own purposes. Who knows what I may be missing out there, considering some of the wonderful stuff that's appeared over the past year? I _hate_ knowing that I'm not getting everything; it feels like I'm being ignored (and I sort of prefer being chided to being ignored; the latter makes me feel unimportant/semi-unwanted) in a way. So, anything everyone out there can do/suggest/say to help me, I'd be beyond appreciative. If this goes unanswered, I'll definitely stick around a.p.d-i (at least while I'm "leading" a thread!), but the TWIR will either vanish (possibly) or be rather brief as far as summaries. Anyway, I've had my say. I wish all of you to continue with your ideas and/or writings with fluency and skill. Sincerely, Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader From: dan@tbone.biol.scarolina.edu (Dan Schar) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [NTY] Jorma.. Date: 12 May 1993 15:02:20 GMT Message-ID: <1sr3hsINN1b9@bigbird.csd.scarolina.edu> References: "Boy, get over here!" his father screemed, "If you want to be a theif, you have to learn from the bottom up" "But father, i do not want to be a theif, all I want to do.." "I Do not care about your dreams of being a cleric, or a mage, you will be a theif, and that is all! You fill me with such anger, I cannot believe you are my son" Smack, the the long piece of rough, unsanded wood, collided with Jorma's head, drawing just a fine cut accross the base of his skull, and a welt that is not soon to leave. "You will finish this job, or i will beat you until you have realized that this is all for your own good" Cutting wood, moving bricks, and building trunks seemed far from the averagechors that a theif would do to get started in the trade. But, as always, Jorma went threw them, and finished his job, just as his father had told him to. Some day, he knew it, he would be a cleric, he just knew that he was ment to do more then take money from people. Finishing his work, he slowly walked into the house. "Hey you little maggot, you get the floor, and oops, i spilled some water on your bed role, ha ha, have a nice night" His brother said as he kicked him in the rump "Dont forget that you are cleaning the horse stalls for me in the morning, dont forget" Jorma followed his two new friends, Palanduin, and Ja'nis to the Inn, food was on the agenda, and Jorma hadnt had a thing to eat in a about day, so he gladly followed. "So, what do you know about rats?" Palandum asked "Well" in a voice not much louder then a wisper, "Rats are my friends" -- Dan Schar (Internet: dan@tbone.biol.scarolina.edu) (803) 777-8998 Department of Biology, University of South Carolina, Columbia SC 29208 MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir-the-Love-Stricken-and-happy) Subject: [Sorc] Space is but a window, time but a door. Message-ID: Date: Wed, 12 May 1993 16:36:24 GMT ADMIN : Here, as promised to y'all, parties, excitement, and a serious danger. I present the thirteenth chapter of Sorceror ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Generica: In the fair and lofty city of Generica, jewel of the world of Nexus, cross-point for many differing types of people, there are many strange and wonderful things. There are also many strange and horrid things. This city is most recently one to have weathered an enormous storm, and it's citizens are celebrating the fact. It is also a holiday of old in the Generican calendar known simply as Generica Day because it is, according to historical records dating back centuries, the day of the city's founding. It is going to be a day of song and laughter, and a huge festival, so say the citizens. All is being paid for by Melwis the Wise, Ruler of Generica and Merchant of no small fortune. Shift the focus, move back in a planar sense. See the big picture. Beyond Generica, there has been much magical activity of a hostile nature centering around a city far to the North. That city is called Magira. There has been war in that city for days, and it has just recently, and quite s suddenly, come to a sudden stop. The city is in ruins and it's rulers, the Academy, are not in any position to hold a celebration. Beyond Nexus, to the planes around, there is trouble brewing. Many Astral beings can sense the closeness of Inferno, the Hell of Tangthara, and his many minions. Both it and Nexus are closer to each other than they have been in centuries, particularly at Generica's general area. There could be much trouble brewing. There is another, much smaller plane, much closer to both of these. It is a miniplane by all accounts, run by a minor demigod in the grand scheme of things. He has retained his old mortal name from the time that he was young and ambitious. He is simply named Sorceror, and most of Nexus has forgotten his name with time and other matters. He is planning, and has been for a long time. Power is his goal. His only goal. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Wild cheering rang throughout the streets of Generica as people young and old got the city ready for celebration of the coming night-time. There were banners to raise, paper hats to hand out, drink to drag from the cellars, massive ammounts of food to be cooked and prepared. Children were gettin under everyone's feet but nobody seemed to mind. In many areas of the city, there was already a party in progress. Bards tuned their instruments, some others played, cashing in on the expected upturn in money to be made. Even the Spitting Cobra was getting ready for the coming attractions of the night, and rumour flew around that Trawm was actually seen cleaning his beer mugs to a polish. Trawm naturally denied everything, including the "slashed ale prices" rumour. Performance acts were getting together and warming up. High up on the Keep and the other Towers of Generica, many engineers, partcularly Dwarven ones, were hard at it setting up the fireworks display that Melwis had ordered. There was general air of pure happiness ringing, even through Low City where enemies were said to be forgoing their hatreds and actually be partying for one day. This was a day for fun and for song. Some said that maybe, just maybe Listener, famed Bard of the equally famous Dragon's Inn, might actually come out and enchant the crowd. All was speculation, none was hard fact. A select few in the know said that the blonde surfer called 'Raelf was a competent man of illusions and would dazzle the crowd with many and varied illusions of breathtaking scope. Other select few in the know said that the first select few were talking rubbish. Others said that both were speaking absolute bull, that it would be the whole Mage's Guild that would perform for the crowd. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Iglyarch looked out from a high window upon the scene below. He was in his home, a large three-storey house, gazing out upon the crowd with nothing but hatred and a glint of victory in his eyes. It was almost time, he knew, for this city to finally know the wrath of him and his Master. So long he had waited for this moment, learning with every ounce of passion, performing his Master's commands to the absolute best of his ability. He thought of when his Master had first come to him, twelve years ago, and brought Iglyarch back to his home plane. Iglyarch had been the pride of his class in the Guild, learning all about many areas of magic. But Sorceror had chosen him above the rest to act as the Master's servant and be well-rewarded. Iglyarch remembered travelling all around the world, learning from his Master all the while. The great life he had led, gaining more power under the Master's guidance. He remembered the first time that they had taken direct action, with the kidnapping of the brat Dougl and taking him away on a journey into the sea, only to be caught by Karl, Kron and others. All planned, of course. He also remembered his apprentice, Cassandra, slain in her youth by that despicable elf Silken. He remembered every detail of the battle, the sudden appearance of the elf, and the bite of his sword. He had escaped and vowed to catch that elf and burn him very slowly to death. The Master had approved. He remembered hiring the assassin named Lucien, a dark elf, who could have done the job if not for the fact that Silken was supposedly some old elven lord or something ridiculous. Lucien had turned Iglyarch's house upside down quickly and killed his two best men. Iglyarch had only recently taken over Creft the Fence's position as Strongman in the crime scene after Creft had met an unfortunate end at the hands of Seer and his Wasters. The Master had not thought that the Mother would move so soon, yet he quickly used it to his advantage in the city. Kron lost his position as Sergeant of the Guard, and went off to find his own sister among the Great JellyFish herself. Iglyarch had been sent then to help ensure the safety of the KronQuestors as they called themselves (ludicrous name). Silken had been captured by Sorceror and sent to suffer years of torment in the plane of Inferno. And that pleased Iglyarch mightily. He liked that sort of revenge. He had helped out the KronQuestors and fled the battle scene and them to their fate, while Silken returned, having spent a mere few days by Generican standards in Inferno, and was infected with the curse placed upon him by the demon lord: vampirism. This pleased Iglyarch even more than it had before. The elf was now the Master's pawn, an assassin being sent to kill the fool called Kron and tie up that loose end. That had been a bad moment for Iglyarch. He had been sent out suddenly, unexpectedly, to deal with a lock-on trace from the strange creature that he later learned was called 'Raelf. He had nearly been killed in that encounter, and Sorceror had had to retreat his influences on the elf before he was discovered. Kron had not been killed, but he proved inneffectual anyway. No, it was the elf who became the problem. He was off among the timestreams using the device given to him by 'Raelf. Curse that elf. He didn't even know what he was looking for, but went anyway. And had had to be dealt with before any problems could have arisen from his interferance. Sorceror had let Darmal deal with that, and the elf careered back into the point where he would have been to begin with. Darmal. When did that thing become Sorceror's second in command? The Minion was even now causing wars to prevent the Magirans from understanding Sorceror's influence before it was too late, just as he had done here in Generica. Iglyarch hated Darmal. The Minion wasn't even human, but it was arrogant, strong. Sorceror seemed to prefer him, yet Iglyarch maintained his loyalty. The penalties for doing otherwise would have been very harsh indeed. Yet always the elf got in the way. He had made contacts and offered a great deal of money to any who would take upon them the task of slaying the vampire. He was responded by more vampires. Five vampires calling themselves the Hunters. They seemed up to the job, and Iglyarch offered it to them. To catch a thief, use a thief, as the old saying went. Well, here were five thieves. Alex reported that the elf had been practically burned alive during the storm only two nights ago, but had escaped at the last second to an unknown location. Silken scared Iglyarch with his apparent indestructability. Perhaps he was just very lucky, like that Ex-Waster named Rook. Either way, there was no time left to deal with the whole goddamn mess. Tonight was the night, said the Master, and we would just have to defend ourselves as best as possible from the elf's scheming. Darmal had just reported that the Magiran war had ended with his discovery, but that it didn't matter any more. He was making directly for the appointed meeting place, Saelex Keep. The sun dropped below the horizon. Iglyarch listened as a town crier proclaimed, "Hear Ye! Hear Ye! BY ORDER of His Lordship, Melwis the Wise, I hereby Pronounce these festivities to be officially open" There was a huge cheer and many crackers and fires were lit. Bards started to play and the merriment had begun in full swing. The parade appeared about ready to start up, and drink was being poured out and passed around by the gallon. Iglyarch turned and closed the window. "Ah yes, Generica, tonight will be a night such as you have never known." He smiled inwardly to himself, and began to cast a spell, to teleport to Saelex Keep. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ To the Northwest of Generica, in times long past, there was a great battle that took place, called the battle of Saelex. Saelex, so the legend goes, had been a lord of men, and defended his people from attacks by Orc Hordes from the North. He had built a maginificent, sturdy castle atop a hill, and it was named in his honour. Yet, as the tale goes, the mighty Lord Saelex fell to the hand of his brother through prison. The Orcs had been defeated, and the brother became Lord of all he saw. His name was Geryic. Geryic was a fop, a robust and greedy man. He lusted after power, and led his people through many stupid conquests into the Marshes. Saelex Keep was left standing, but fell into disrepair. Eventually, the Orcs reformed under a new leader and came out of the North. Geryic's army rallied, but were hopelessly outnumbered and the Lord died ignominiously. The Castle remained, and for many years was left. Centuries have passed since then, but tonight, there will once again be trouble and strife and perhaps even battle in Saelex Keep. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Darkness surrounded the castle as Iglyarch materialised outside the front gate. He surveyed all around him. The Castle was not the same Keep that he had visited days before. Saelex Keep was run-down originally, nothing but a few lop-sided walls and bricks in the grass. But here, he was staring at a full castle with dark, menacing spires, midnight black, and many rooms. It was eerie, not the same place at all. Darmal had done a good job, Iglyarch was forced to concede that at least. No doubt the Master had aided him quite a lot, however. Iglyarch walked tentatively under the drawbridge, peering at all the dark eerie corners. There was a figure standing across the courtyard wearing flowing black robes and a hood. Iglyarch could see a glint of silvery skin showing through under them, however. It was Darmal, he knew it. "Iglyarch! So happy that you could make it, old boy" it called out to him. Iglyarch merely nodded and concealed his hatred as best as possible. The drawbridge crashed shut behind him, which startled him suddenly. He whirled around, expecting attack from the elf of all things, but all he got was an earful of scronful laughter from Darmal. The Thing just cackled inanely to itself. "What's the matter, Iggy-pooh? Did we get a little scared?" "Darmal, shut up and let's get on with it. Some of us have work to do, you know ", Iglyarch retorted and walked over to the main keep. "Yes, of course Iglyarse, can't keep the boss waiting, can we?" Iglyarch wanted so much to jusst blow Darmal away, but he wouldn't have been able to do it. Darmal controlled a small ammount of Primal given to him by Sorceror. Why hadn't Iglyarch been made a minion? Why this foolish lump of walking silver polish? It confused him greatly sometimes. They descended the stairs into the basement, to a large area that was once a storeroom, but which had been cleared to create a wide space for certain people and things to have standing space. Iglyarch trembled with excitement. At last, after all these years, after all his hard work, after all that messing with the elf, his Master was coming forth to teach Generica a lesson it would NEVER forget. He was absolutely over the moon. Darmal merely smiled to himself quietly and observed everything. There was a small row of crystal balls , all showing images of various parts of the castle, surrounding countryside and surrounding planar space. "What are the defenses like?" Iglyarch asked in a very off-beat manner. "Better than you could do, PiddlyFart" Iglyarch turned on him. "For the last time, silverado, my name is Iglyarch, do you understand. Kindly treat me with respect that I extend to you." Darmal just suppressed a laugh. He stopped suddenly, keenly aware of a presence having entered the area "What is it?", asked Iglyarch in a whisper. Darmal just smiled his very broad smile, and Iglyarch understood perfectly. The Mage got up and took a piece of chalk with him. He began inscribing a circle all around a small area of the floor, murmurring powerful enchantments as he went. He closed the circle after about ten minutes of drawing and chanting then stood up and gestured in wide sweeping manners, whispering words, the commands of magic. He gestured more vigourously, taking a glass rod and a bottle of a greenish substance. While still incanting, he smeared the rod in the green liquid and dashed it to the floor at the substance and dashed it to the floor at the climax of his incanting. Power slowly began to flow through the circle, and many bright lights began to shine nd picked up over the whole area. nd emanated from the center of the circle. It was blinding, put suddenly, there was a figure standing there, resplendant in midnight black robes, without a hood. His hair was a vibrant golden yellow, and literally shone. He was more handsome than any man Iglyarch had ever seen. His eyes were golden, and they held a certain intangible quality about them. He was majestic, beautiful, but cold, ice cold. He looked beautifully cruel and emanated an aura unlike any Iglarch had ever known. The Mage fell to his knees in reverance to his Master, and just looked on in awe at the sheer power and splendour that this being exuded from every pore in his body. "Sorceror ", was all that Iglyarch could say in a whisper to his Master, the ancient demigod. "Rise, Iglyarch. " The Mage did so, without question, awaiting his Master's every wish and command. He caught a glimpse of Darmal, who appeared to be ready for something but also in equal awe to the Demigod. Sorceror's eyes met Iglyarch's eyes, and held the Mage's eyes effortlessly for a long time before speaking to him. "Iglyarch, my servant ", his voice, beautiful and melodious, " you have served me as apprentice and worshipper for a long time. You have performed admirably in many tasks and never questioned my will. Your strength has been my strength, your wits have been my wits. Ah, Iglyarch ... " Iglyarch looked up with pride at his Master. " ... I wish it did not have to be this way ", Sorceror's voice had filled with regret suddenly. Iglyarch knew pangs of fear with those few simple words. He looked into his Master's eyes and saw that his Master had indeed got plans for him. Terrible plans. "Master, what did do wrong? What did I say wrong? Please, tell me!" Sorceror looked at Iglyarch, not a trace of pity or emotion in his eyes. "You did nothing wrong, servant. But you are useful, necessary" "I don't understand, Master ..." Iglyarch mumbled, his mind paralysed with fear. He was sweating a cold sweat, shivering. "You, Iglyarse, are the best candidate in a field of one. He requires your soul to use to open the Portal. You are to be sacrificed", Darmal said simply, and looked to the Master for confirmation. Sorceror merely nodded slowly. Iglyarch stepped back in horror. His own Master was going to slay him to further his own ends. His mouth formed a silent "NO", and he looked left and right, seeking escape. There was none. He could feel the magical boundaries around this place. He could not escape. "Master, why not Darmal?? Why ME???" "Because I need the soul of a loyal mortal wizard to open the Portal. You are that mortal wizard. This has been planned from the beginning, Iglyarch. Accept it as your fate ", Sorceror's voice was entrancing, beautiful, but it did not sway Iglyarch. "And if I do, what will become of my soul, Master?" he was desperately thinking of a way out of this, but no options presented themselves suddenly to his disposal. Sorceror looked into his eyes, held him there. "Your soul ... ", he began and waited for a second, " ... Your soul will be destroyed by the spell of opening, or possibly trapped for eternity in the fires of Inferno." Iglyarch had had enough. He screamed in terror, and turned to run out the door. But his feet wouldn't move. He erected his wards but Darmal dashed them aside as if with an afterthought. He tried to cast a spell at Darmal to fry his innards, but the spell winked out before he could do anything. At last, he turned to Sorceror, who remined callm and placid in front of the maddened wizard. Iglyarch gathered spells and cast them at his former Master, as many of them as he could manage. All simply harmlessly splashed off Sorceror's body, or the area around. At last Iglyarch was too tired to even think of a new spell. ceror was All he could do was break down crying, and begging his Master not to kill him. "Please. You don't have to kill me. You don't have to sentence me to oblivion or eternity in hell. Please Master. PLEASE. After all I did for you, after all we've been through together!! I deserve better than this!!" Sorceror looked into the eyes of Iglyarch. "No man deserves anything, Iglyarch. You must take whatever you want, not expect it." With that, Sorceror nodded to Darmal. Darmal cast a quick spell that bound Iglyarch. Iglyarch screamed out, a piteous horrible scream, but no-one would help him now. Darmal then went over and picked up the paralysed Iglyarch, dragging him across the lab to a bench covered by a black cloth. Iglyarch's voice howled and screamed. "Pipe down PiggyFart, it'll all be over soon." Darmal took the black cloth off the bench. Iglyarch ssaw that it wasn't actually a bench, but it was a large stone altar, with a very wickedly barbed knife sitting on it. Sorceror strode over in a slow, graceful manner, and awaited the body to be placed upon the altar. Iglyarch had stopped screaming. He was just too terrified to try any more. He was laid down upon the altar. He thought of one thing and o xxxx one thing only. He thought of a message. A simple message. A Distress message. He readied himself, thinking that he would only have one chance to get it right before he was sentenced to oblivion. Sorceror began to chant. He was using words of power like Iglyarch had never heard before. They rang out over the whole area, resonating with the stones. His hands weaved slowly, beautifully, gathering magic with such as Iglyarch had never seen. Iglyarch closed his eyes, awaiting the end and what he hoped would be his chance. The words rang out over the whole area still. Iglyarch was remembering. He remembered his Master. Betrayed at the last, Iglyarch saw that it was all over. He had run his race. Now, it was time to hang his hat and close the door on life. He opened his eyes, seeing Sorceror lift the knife high above his heart and wait in that brief moment when their eyes met. Sorceror's eyes misted slightly for just a second, and his mouth worded "Goodbye" silently, then with as much force as the demigod could manage, he plunged the knife straight into the heart of his former servant. The Pain struck Iglyarch for just a brief second, then he was out of his body, hanging in space and determined. With all of his will that was left to him, Iglyarch concentrated, focussed his mind and sent out a message to all who could hear. "WARNING SAELEX KEEP! WARNING SAELEX KEEP! WARNING SAELEX KEEP!" Then, he felt himself being dragged, pulled towards a black pit beside him. There were voices coming from beyond the pit, but Iglyarch ignored them. He concentrated on his message to the world. Please, somebody stop this maniac. Then he was falling down, down, and knew unbearable heat and torture. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ As the city partied, a dark and sinister carnival or travelling band approached the city of Generica. It called itself Drakes Carnival. It came from the direction of Saelex Keep to the city. Little did Generica know what came their way tonight. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Iglyarch RIP (never) 1992-1993. May his like never be seen again. -- 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 MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [AU] [Pitzar] A Meeting, and Flight! Message-ID: <1993May12.180523.26752@organpipe.uug.arizona.edu> From: corleyj@helium.gas.uug.arizona.edu (Jason D Corley ) Date: 12 May 93 18:05:23 GMT References: <16BCBF62C.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu> <1993May12.100216.17817@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Keywords: [AU] [Pitzar] Andrea Sheryl unicorn Jake Pitzar transition In article <1993May12.100216.17817@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> cmeadows@nyx.cs.du.edu (Chris Meadows) writes: > >Something I forgot to include in the previous post: acknowledgements. >That post was co-written by myself and by Jake Pitzar's author, >Jason D. Corley (corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu). And it was a whole >lot of fun to write, too! > >-- Right, and the music was by Danny Elfman, and post-production editing by V.I. Enterprises. Special effects by Studio 27, makeup by Claire De L'eau, and very few animals were hurt in the making of this post. ;-) [roll credits, boys. Cut to the Di-Gel spot.] -- (1) Ignorance of your profession is best concealed by solemnity and silence, which pass for profound knowledge upon the generality of mankind. -------"Advice to Officers of the British Army", 1783 Jason "corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu" Corley is thought to be armed and stupid. MagicHutchHeader From: foleye@xanth.CS.ORST.EDU (Stilt Man) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] Twisting of souls Date: 12 May 1993 21:09:39 GMT Message-ID: <1srp2jINNkm6@flop.ENGR.ORST.EDU> "Then it is agreed. My agents have spotted the Shrouded One together with those who assailed your minions and took the girl," said Parsephulas. "Your man identified the illusory protrait of them." "What is it that your master proposes?" said BBD, his eyes boring into those of Pars. This guy could take lessons from Arcania, the warrior thought. "I'll take the prisoner and Gutt Man off of your hands, use them as a lure to them, for the others probably won't know I'm in cahoots with him. The others are yours; the Shrouded One is ours." "What will you do, once you have found them?" said the dwarf at BBD's side. Relbin, he called himself. BBD obviously regarded the diminutive clergyman as a trusted advisor. "Now, I can't reveal all my secrets, can I, good Relbin?" responded Pars. Relbin smiled in respect. "Well spoken!" He turned to BBD. "I think that we have seen and heard enough!" Then, lowering his voice for BBD's ears alone. "These will serve well, Bek . . . he looks like a tough enough fighter; he'll be a good asset, and the link to this Arcania Dorval will also help a lot." BBD raised a hand in acknowledgement, but kept his features neutral to what was said, so as not to tip Pars off as to what was said. He turned to Myernen. "Escort this guy out, and give him whatever he might want from us to get the job done." Then, to Pars, "Gutt Man can be somewhat loony at times. Are you sure you're up to this?" At the nod from Pars, Myernen gestured to the door. When they had gone, Bekdatusi Bennison Dranzotten turned to his advisor. "I'm not sure I like this as much as you. Yes, the fact that he somehow traced the guy Yosef here did wind up for the better -- he'll be a good help to distract and defeat these turds who oppose us -- but what else might've gone wrong for it? Yosef had a homing beacon on him -- who knows, but that someone else'll also track him here? How much of my plans are compromised?" "Now that the link is exposed, he'll take the danger away from us," said Relbin. "Any tracers'll go to him, not us, and he'll take the fall if there's any falling to be done." "I still don't know . . . however, I think I'd be able to use this," he indicated the small crystalline orb laced around his neck, "to contact this Arcania Dorval, if I wished. Perhaps she'd be likely to send more help, and take the load off of our shoulders even more." "Bypass the warrior? He might not like that, but then, if Arcania can't keep that under reign, what use is she to you anyway?" =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Gutt Man looked quite nervous to have the large, armored man about. The black knives might help if it came to a fight, but the Voice promised that it wouldn't happen. Oh, indecision, indecision . . . At least the Voice didn't demand he free this prisoner, like the last one got freed. And he would get a chance to kill those who'd taken her from him. And then, little Lissa would learn the foolishness of thinking he could no longer harm her. Parsephulas had already spoken with Zydrax. The possibility of a direct link between BBD and Arcania, without going through them, existed, but the rogue sorcerer did not think it a problem. BBD seemed secretive enough that putting his trust in such an unknown was unlikely at best. For now, Kryalla and the others were the problem. And as long as the Dark One thought Pars did her bidding, the longer she would ignore Zydrax's preparations, if she was even aware of them. Tracing Yosef to BBD in the first place had been the easy part. Arcania had suspected that the rebel might find his way into shady elements of town, and had enabled Parsephulas to track him, to get to these elements first and acquire their alliance, so as not to require as much from the Thurlans and Pars himself. Zydrax had been quite pleased at the discovery of BBD's plots. Perhaps he would aid in overthrowing Arcania when it was all over. But, that was the future. More immediate concerns were at hand. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Zydrax was irritated to hear the bell interrupting his sleep. However, the alacrity of its ringing meant urgency. Pars wanted to talk with him quite desperately; Zydrax wondered that the metal of the instrument didn't shatter with the force that the request for communication applied. He walked to the mirror, spoke the runes, and the armored warrior's visage replaced his own in the mirror. "Damn it, warlock! This isn't any time for waiting!" "Watch your tone, warrior, lest you learn the penalty of such insolence!" said Zydrax, rubbing the ring on his finger. "Shut up! Something has gone horribly wrong with our erstwhile alliance. Our heads may roll. I will not go to the block alone, Zydrax!" "If BBD changed his mind, and decided not to make the pact, it is of no import. Surely Arcania would not hold it against you -- " "Listen to me, you fool! The pact was sealed! And perhaps within hours of that sealing the advisor, Relbin was dead, at the hands of an assassin! I have met this wizard, seen the power he wields here. Who else but Arcania herself would dare trifling with such a one? And if it is she, what game does she play? Do we move against her unseen, or does she toy with us?" Zydrax was silent from the moment the word "assassin" passed Pars' lips. How could Arcania possibly know of the alliance? Had he somehow alerted her with some mistake? "What of the alliance itself? Have BBD's minions assailed you?" asked Zydrax. "No. They have made no sign of aggression. BBD himself seems to think that a local power did it, but the look in his eyes when he said that to me . . . if looks could kill, one of his wizards would have splattered me on the street when I left his hideaway! Can they suspect? I'm not sure it's safe to stay . . ." his voice trailed off. "You listen to me, Parsephulas. If BBD does not know how it happened, then we cannot, either. Perhaps some local enemy decided that he was too much a nuisance, and either seeks to scare him or strike at the dwarf strategically, rub him off so the whole organization is weaker for his absence. Whatever, you must not let Arcania know that you suspect her, either! If she is behind this, and you let her know that you suspect, she will give you to the Thurlans!" The rest of that scenario did not need to be stated. "Then we must wait, and follow through with the original plan, praying nothing else goes wrong." "Yes! Until I can figure out something to improvise, that is all you can do! Now get out of my mirror and let me sleep!" The image in the mirror leapt again and was that of Zydrax once more. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= "It must be someone who has discovered me here. Your own interests here are also at stake, Dark One! Can you afford to risk your minion's links to me being discovered, and your attempt to recover the Shrouded One fail?" said BBD, his image in the pool of calm water before Arcania livid with mixed fear and rage. Arcania's sapphire eyes met his piercing gaze unflinchingly. "Fear not. You will have the additional guard you require. Several more of the Thurlans are ready to depart for Generica. They will not accompany Pars, but will keep watch over your hide until he has done what I require of him!" said Arcania with an infuriated sneer. "Is there anything else you want me to bail you out of?" she asked derisively. BBD, the moment of danger more important to him than her patronizing tone, bristled but made no remark. "See that you come through with your promises, Dark One. I would hate to see something . . . unfortunate happen to you." Arcania smirked, laughing in heartfelt amusement at the threat. She dismissed him with a wave of her hand, turning her back on him even as the pool went blank. The moment the image was gone, she erupted in hysterical laughter. "The colossal dunderhead! He took the ruse, and begged for me to take his safety under my power!" Turning back to the pool where his image had been moments before, her eyes glistening with tears of mirth, she shook her head in amazement. "And with your safety, you surrender just that much of your independence, as well . . ." ************* BBD wasn't wildly happy about the situation at hand, especially the portrayal of weakness to Arcania. Who knows, but that she might have engineered the entire affair for this purpose? Not likely, though. Pars had been genuinely surprised and shocked when told of Relbin's untimely demise. If Arcania had arranged it, Pars' reaction would have been less heart-felt. No, far more probably it was someone from Generica, jealous of his rise. However, no possibility should be ruled out. He had not come this far by being blindly trusting. Still, it did seem preposterous that Arcania would assassinate his closest advisor while her loyal ambassador was in his clutches. The deed was done. A moment's acting of weakness, and someone else would help solve the problem for him. And if it turned out the Arcania was the problem, well . . . too bad for her. ************* Arcania addressed the ebon-cloaked apparition at the door. "Rudaj, bring the visitor in, and leave us alone to our talk." The man that was soon escorted into the room was not tall, only coming up to Arcania's shoulder. He had a blank expression on his face, and the spectral manservant of the Dark One watched him nervously as he walked into the room. The door shut behind him, and a quick glance around assured him that they were alone. "Geez, I hate dis stoopid thang!" came a muttering, and the top third of the man's frame fell to the floor, revealing a dwarfish, gnarled being with dark skin who stood to the Dark One's waist. "Th' dwarf di'd eas'ly, no pain, no outcry. I doubt BBD even notices he wuz konked unt'l he fund 'im ther, stiff 'n cold, later thet evening. Wasn't nuthin' to it." "Well done, Death Wish," replied Arcania. "I'm glad your talents operate across dimensions as well as her on Arghan." "Any time, any place, any werld, any t'rget, fer thos' who kin aff'rd it." The magess nodded. "The fee will be transmitted in the usual manner." Death Wish saluted her, seeming almost disappointed that she didn't offer a follow-up job. But, business was business, and she was his best customer. He turned, gathered up his disguise, packing into his pack, and bounded out the window, his clothes blending in perfect chameleonic fashion with the walls of the tower as he climbed downward. No one saw him leave, not even the few Thurlans on the street who cared to look up. Death Wish was the best assassin in Arghan. No one ever saw him enter or leave a target area, and few knew what he looked like. His chameleonic clothing had enabled him to observe Bek's meeting with Pars completely undetected, and observe Relbin before he killed him. After Pars had left, Bek had discussed the situation with his advisor, then left on his own affairs. Death Wish had killed him while Bek had been staring right at him, and the sorcerer never knew until much later, when he returned to find his advisor still sitting there in the same position as when he left. By that time, the near-invisible assassin was already in Dabar Roc collecting his fee. Arcania figured Bek wouldn't be entirely fooled -- he might have some slight suspicion of the truth. The sheer preposterousness, the craziness of it all was the very thing ensuring the success of her plan. She knew what he would think of the possibility of what had happened: why would she kill Relbin while Pars, her "loyal" servant, was engaged in diplomacy with him? The key fact he was unaware of was Pars' treachery. Had he known of this, he might be far more suspicious of her actions. As it was, he had no reason to believe the truth. The truth was just too insane to accept. As long as she kept it that way, all would fall into line. Win or lose, Arcania Dorval was enjoying herself tremendously. +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ + Kryalla Simuel the Shrouded One + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ + foleye@xanth.cs.orst.edu + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@lamar.ColoState.EDU (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] Palandun:continuing the conversation. Message-ID: Date: Wed, 12 May 1993 21:00:42 GMT References: <1sr3hsINN1b9@bigbird.csd.scarolina.edu> "Well," the waif said, "Rats are my friends." This statement almost caused Palandun to spit up his chicken. He somehow managed to conceal his astonishment and continue the conversation in a normal fashion. "Friends, huh? How do you mean, friends?" A messenger slid in and handed him a note, informing him of the death of Karl the quartermaster. Palandun had never met Karl, but somehow had a sneaking suspicion that this was a nasty blow for generica. He would have to remember to find the family and offer his condolences. MagicHutchHeader From: bingchar@cwis.isu.edu (BINGHAM_CHARLES_D) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Trouble Date: 10 May 1993 16:20:08 -0600 Message-ID: <1smkeo$lvm@cwis.isu.edu> With a loud belch, Windstalker lifts his head from the table. Looking around, he sees several new faces and few familiar ones. A terrible question suddenly occurs to him. How long have I been unconcious and what did it to me? Shaking of the effects of his long slumber, he looks down at a small device on his wrist. "My God!!!!!" he gasps, "It's been nearly two maybe three months. What happened to me." He quickly stands up and walks toward the door. He finds it odd that nobody pays him any attention, but he has no time to ponder the situation. Pulling out a small box from within his cloak, he opens the door. Raising the box to his mouth he says, "Infinity control this is Windstalker. We have a Delta situation here, request imediate removal." With that the man known as Windstalker vanishes as he steps through the door. A few moments later Littlefair walks over and closes the door. -- Bingo Beauty is only skin deep, bingchar@ba.isu.edu Ugly goes right to the bone. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Redlin drowns Message-ID: <1993May12.205139.6028@dct.ac.uk> From: mcspikgfm@dct.ac.uk (Melandra) Date: 12 May 93 20:51:39 +0100 The cry came from below her and she knew the voice. Opening her eyes she gazed as Redlin slowly dropped below the surface of the water. In an instant the spell was cast and she dropped into the water. With a flick she was off in his direction. The sea was cold but not dangerously so, and Redlin would not have cried out for no reason, so she had to assume something had attacked him. Towards the surface there seemed to be some straggling vegetation or something in the water. As she swam closer, the less plant-like they looked. The long filaments dangled down from below their bulbous head, which were only visible thanks to the slightly blue tint they possessed. There looked to be about 6 of them, all floating in a small group just below the surface. Maybe these were the cause, but where could Redlin be? Through the fairly clear water, she could see a glinting far off and she headed towards it. Within a few seconds she was at the bottom and found the sword that had been caught by the filtering moonlight. Desperately, she scanned the bottom for any sign of him. She flicked her tail and headed off in a small circle upwards looking at the seabed. Rocky formations and beds of seaweed covered the floor and she almost didn't see his body. It was underneath a large dark patch of kelp that was billowing with the current. Getting him up from there would be the problem, if she could do it at all. She pushed herself below him rasping against the sand. Once he had sagged on top of her, she started up towards the surface and the air. Within seconds she had him above the surface as she headed towards the only bit of beach she could see. He didn't seem to be breathing and she sped as fast as she could towards the wet sand. Within seconds she was on the beach and her dolphin form was dropped painfully quickly. Her hands turned him over and pushed the water out of his lungs. He coughed and started to scream in pain as the jellyfish's stings wracked his body with intense pain. All Melandra could do was to hold on to him as his body spasmed. Within minutes, his body stopped its twitching and he seemed to settle back into a slow, laboured rythym of breathing and coughing. Mel visualised her room at the Inn, and tried to place herself and Redlin in the room. With a fair degree of trepidation she released the spell and they arrived. She quickly got rid of the sodden clothes he had been wearing and used some of own dry ones to dry him off. Then she picked him up and gently placed him on her bed covering him up with her bedclothes. He shivered and called out in his sleep for hours and Mel had to go and tell Rowan what had happened as he would have had to have come to complain about the noise eminating from the room. After a few hours of this, she half dozed off for a while until she was woken by a shout. "Shelsa, come back, please come back. I need you". There seemed to be real feeling behind every word as he shifted and tossed in the bed. Melandra got up and sat on the side of the bed, talking to him in a soft calming voice and stroking his forehead. Her arms clamped around him, to stop his jerking and slowly his cries died and movements stopped. She bent down over him and kissed him just above the bridge of his nose. He murmured approval, and she brought her aim down to kiss him full on the lips. With that she lay down beside him on the bed and draped herself over his body and the bedsheet, and went to sleep. MagicHutchHeader From: bingchar@cwis.isu.edu (BINGHAM_CHARLES_D) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: New Arrival Date: 10 May 1993 19:19:19 -0600 Message-ID: <1smuun$r4h@cwis.isu.edu> It was a typical evening in Generica, there hadn't been too much unusual excitement for the town. Of course unusual excitement for most isn't much for a town that is home to the Dragons Inn. The guards at the gate were just settling in for another long and hopfully boring night at work. Shops were closing and the citizens were either heading for home or to thier favorite bar. Watching all this activity from what could be considered a secluded alley is a man. There isn't anything particularly interesting about him and that is probably the reason nobody has noticed him. As the sun starts to set, the man stirs from his position and begins to make his way toward the famed Dragons Inn. He makes the trip with no difficulty as if he had been thier several times before, though this is his first visit. Upon arrival he watches from the other side of the street, as several of the inn's patrons enter. After they are inside and the traffic in the area has died down. The man crosses the street and enters the inn. Within seconds of entering the common room he is overcome with a sense of security. Looking to the bard, he nods, more to himself than to anyone else. A few quick strides later he is at a table not a dark secluded corner as some might think, but a well lite area near one of the outer walls. Readjusting his dark green cloak, he sits at the table with only his sword making a sound as it jostles his black suit of chainmail. Settling his back to the wall he signals the waitress that he is ready for some service. She quickly arrives. Leaning close to her the man whispers, "I would like a mug of your finest Tiberian Ale." He then hands her a small green stone, the size of a pea. "I hope this emerald, will be sufficient for my needs." The waitress nods and quickly fetches the man's order. Shortly after this, another man, dressed quit similarly to the first enters and walks directly to the first man's table. Without even sitting, he leans over and whispers, not very effectivly in the man's ear, "Sir, we have done as you have ordered, all members of the legion are now awaiting your return. Good luck, and may Pandor guide you." The second man then turns and leaves the inn. Once again alone, the stranger sips his ale, watches the crowd, and enjoys the music provided by the talented bard. -- Bingo Beauty is only skin deep, bingchar@ba.isu.edu Ugly goes right to the bone. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kring@efes.physik.uni-kl.de (Thomas Kettenring) Subject: [NTY] One More Meeting Message-ID: <1993May13.001104.28697@rhrk.uni-kl.de> References: <1sr3hsINN1b9@bigbird.csd.scarolina.edu> Date: Thu, 13 May 1993 00:11:04 GMT ADMIN: This takes place after Bakr talked to Kloote, which happens in a posting not yet made public because I am waiting for Medor to add his bit. I don't want to delay this thread so I answer now. Bakr came out of the back room, followed by Kloote, when he overheard the sentence "So, what do you know about rats?" at a nearby table. He went closer and saw that a boy sitting at the table seemed to answer the question. He stood near the table and eyed the people there curiously. -- Bakr ibn Ja'far ibn Musa al Mekneshi, apprentice mage aka Lifilis Kloote, conjurer and artist aka Thomas Kettenring MagicHutchHeader From: dan@tbone.biol.scarolina.edu (Dan Schar) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [NTY] Jorma2 Date: 13 May 1993 03:47:19 GMT Message-ID: <1ssgc7INNgui@bigbird.csd.scarolina.edu> References: Jorma stared at the floor, he drifted back, back to his old home. "I do not know what is up with that boy, all he does is sit out there when he is done with his chores, and talks to him self." "Sir" remarkes stentor, JOrmas older brother, "may i go out and see what Jorma is doing, it, sir, bothers me too that he is sitin out there doing nothing." "Yah, go ahead boy, and if he is up to no good, set him straight!" "All i have is bread, i wasnot alloud to have any meat or cheese today" said Jorma, "I guess i was not very good at my chors, but this should be anough to fill your bellys" Wham, Stentor lets loose with a slap that hits Jorma in the back of the head. "Your feeding the squirls!", yelled Stentor, "I could have had that bread on my plate, but no you are feeding it to squirls." "But, there, there hungry, just.." "What do you mean their hungry, their squirls, they are saposed to fond their own food, not eat my food. Sir, father, come here!" "Looking up at his new friend, and employer, Jorma simple says, "They dont hate me, they they listen to me, they are friends." Looking down, Jorma has a smile on his face, he remembers the two squirls that lived in the tree near the hourse stalls, his first friends. But, he was smiling for something else, for his new friends. "You dont hate me, you listen to me, you are friends" Jorma said in a wisper, more to himself then to the other two. -- Dan Schar (Internet: dan@tbone.biol.scarolina.edu) (803) 777-8998 Department of Biology, University of South Carolina, Columbia SC 29208 MagicHutchHeader From: kjc@aramis.rutgers.edu (Kelly J. Cooper) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Long night's journey into day Keywords: from the many corners of my mind Message-ID: Date: 12 May 93 00:19:10 GMT "What is the use of a book", thought Alice, "without pictures or conversations?" _Alice's_Adventures_in_Wonderland_ After Kardia went to bed 'Raelf and Jameson spoke quietly of symbols and maps and worlds until the fatigue of the last several days began to tell in Jameson's concentration. She didn't need much sleep, but full downtime in an environ she trusted was too much of a good opportunity to let pass by. Ar'Elya showed Jameson down the hall to her door. The door had WALKER written on it in plain lettering that flickered when Jameson wasn't looking directly at it. Jameson lifted a hand and the door slid to the left and revealed a gray expanse of nothing. Cocking her head, she lifted a questioning eyebrow at ar'Elya who smiled and shrugged in return. "Good luck," she said before she left the Walker gazing into the everything. Jameson stepped in and felt the sensors wrap around her as gently as gauze. Gradually, a chunk of blond wood floorboards coalesced beneath her feet, its edges fading into the gray. A shelf appeared at hip level and Jameson set her bag upon it. She removed her walking boots and hooked them onto part of a shoe tree hanging beside the shelf. Two more steps and she sat down. A thick futon was beneath her by the time she was seated. She stripped off her socks and looked at her feet for a while before standing again and slipping off all her clothes. Removing the rough string from her hair with her left, she extended her right hand. Another door appeared at her touch and slid aside. The wood floor followed beneath her feet until she stepped into the white tiled room on the other side of the door. A pair of shower heads grew from the walls and began pounding her gently with first very hot and steamy water, gradually tapering to lukewarm. Then one last minute of cold water before they stopped and slid back to become part of the wall again. The water smoothly became part of the tile. A rack holding a huge, thick towel appeared as the tiling faded and disppeared as soon as she was holding the towel. She dried herself slowly, easing small tensions as she discovered them. Hanging the towel on the everything, she watched it fade as she brushed her hair with the brush that appeared in her hand. Looking to her right, she parted her hair in the mirror suspended there. It slowly became one with the everything as she turned back toward her belongings. The wood floor quietly disappeared behind her as she moved forward. Walking slowly toward the futon, she brushed her long brown hair dry. Pausing, she stepped into the heavy cotton trous that were simply there in her hands and pulled on a sweatshirt with all the elastics trimmed off. After first emptying all the pockets, she reached out and opened a chute into which she dropped her discarded clothing, including all the grungy stuff in her pack. She pulled her hair back and tied it with the string, then held out her arms. Her clothes fell out of the everything, clean and folded, into a neat pile in her arms. She set them beside her pack then went to the futon and lay down. Closing her eyes she reached out and touched that which was the house. Opening her "eyes" she found the gray everything/nothing gone. She was now standing on a matrix grid pattern. Raising her right hand, she found a menu underneath her fingers. Pressing "guide" caused a little humanoid creature in a tiny tux to appear. He smiled at her and gestured. A full directory spanned her vision. She began skimming options that the creature would open and adjust for her. After managing to get the hang of it she smiled at the little man who bowed and vanished. Calling up a layout of the house, she touched one of the portions that was outlined with a solid line (versus the portions outlined with a dotted line; she guessed those were bits of reality in flux and chose not to play with them this evening). The house unfolded and explained itself to her patient ears. As she walked past the section that held music, she noticed out of the corner of her eye a large silver spider. The matrix flickered for a moment as this other's reality shimmered across her vision. A web, interconnecting the interior of the house. Jameson smiled and continued walking. Touching much, but staying to absorb little, she moved restlessly through the matrix until she could feel a gradual alpha state relaxing her busy mind. Finally, with a move that was between left and right, she left the matrix and returned her conscious attention to her body. Feeling quite good, she drifted into sleep... ...and woke abruptly three hours later. She had been slipping into a nightmare and her brain had chosen to awaken rather than sit through some distorted replay of memory. She grimaced, then paused. Not an older memory. Not a familiar fear. A more recent fragment of something... odd. An animal caught in fishing line and someone, someone familiar, leaning over it to cut it free but instead tightening the thread until... gone. She couldn't quite catch it, but the feeling echoed what had happened at the end of dinner, when she'd felt the pain and seen... no, gone again. She shrugged to herself and gave up. The dreams had been very nice, though. It had been a long time since she was relaxed enough not to lucid dream; it was soothing. She leaned back again, looked around the everything/nothing and began making pictures in the aether. First a stylized red dragon, then a white one of filigree the color of frost. Now a silver one, green eyes whirling. Now a black one, eyes glowing redly. She sat up slowly and began tracing patterns on the walls and asking them to stay rather than fade. Monsters, creatures, figures of other races, myths, friends, birds, skies foreign and familiar. Broken statues, lost gods, distant memories trapped in stone and lost to anyone who could not understand the language. The sweeping wings of singers, horns, hooves, trailing rainbows, fire, water, sea serpents, sailors. An old woman, a dying star, fishhooks linked together, a crying child. Feathers of gold, of silver, silk kites with diamond string, wings of white. Clouds, plants, dungeons, bomb scars in the land, the gold feathers of a clockwork nightengale. Two white wings, and a gold halo. Black eyes, blank eyes. Trapped in nothingness, uncaring, cold. Marbles awhirl with color. Visions. When 'Raelf came to wake her for breakfast, he found the room awash with color blending with no edges into what little remained as solid reality: a shelf, a wing chair, a damp towel, two hair ties and Jameson's things. He blinked and Jameson stepped out of the painting, out from among a cluster of wings, and returned to her normal pigments. She smiled at him, shouldered her pack with her shoes tied on and preceded him, padding barefoot out the door. The reality faded and left only her paintings. 'Raelf looked around the interior of the room and called after her, "Wow, nice pictures. Mind if we keep a copy?" There was a smile in Jameson's voice as she called back, "If you wish." "Way cool. < Date: Thu, 13 May 1993 06:01:06 GMT NOUGHT BUT BEGGARY A copper wedge, sir? A paltry wedge, for Founder's Day? Ah! Such generosity! Such kindness; and in a wise and successful man of means, as even these old rheum-clouded eyes can discern! Another? Oh, SIR! You are too kind! And your children -- so lovely! Your heart must fairly burst with pride, sir, I do earnestly believe. And yet another! What a good omen upon this Founder's Day, that such beneficence governs men's hearts and minds! It gives me hope for the future, it does, and for these beautiful children as well. There's a story there......now let me see.....ah yes. There was an emperor, once, in a distant land whose name has disappeared from the books and minds of the learned. It (the land) was rich and well blessed, with fine crops of barley and sugarcane, but he (the emperor) was a harsh ruler, and under his sword and whip none prospered. There came a time when this despot wished to wage a particularly ambitious and costly war, so he sent his tax-gatherers out into the lands to squeeze the already-impoverished peasants for their last shekels. At times, this cruel and greedy man would lead these money-reaping expeditions, and would personally see to it that not a brass farthing was left behind. On one such trip, the emperor passed through an extraordinarily poor farming province. The crops were dying in the fields, and the cattle shrivelled into ghosts by the roadside, but the emperor wanted to be certain that everything of use had been taken from this place. He and his retinue stopped at a small tumble-down farm to rest. The farmer came out to meet the company: an aging, sunburnt man in threadbare clothes, with a stick of straw in his mouth and a broad smile on his face. Clutching his knee was young boy, dressed in a sack, with hair the color of barley. He brought water to the thirsty nobles, but offered no food, claiming he had none to give. The emperor was furious at the meager offering, and ordered his guards to search the farm for anything of value. The farmer shrugged, but told them that their time was wasted, for there was nothing there that was worth taking. They searched for hours, but the farmer had spoken the truth: there was not a slice of bread in the cupboard, nor a pint of beer in the cellar, nor a single coin of any shape or size buried in the hearth. This, in turn, made the emperor even more angry. The farmer, who was truly at peace with the world, spoke to the emperor, saying: "Mighty Lord! I have nothing here for you to take, but I do have something to give. Here is my grandson; he is a good boy, if a little shy, and I think he might fare better in your care than mine." The despot was puzzled. "What a strange thing! How can you give away your own flesh and blood, and know not what I will do with him? Are you mad?" "No, Lord," answered the farmer. "I have a feeling that this is a gift that returns to the giver, and I feel that none will fail to benefit." The emperor was still shocked, but he had no son, and very much wanted one. Also, the boy looked fairly wholesome, so with some consternation the gift was welcomed. The boy waved back to his grandfather as the emperor's retinue continued down the road. Years passed, and the boy grew into a fine young man. The emperor doted upon him, and he grew to love the despot. But this influence worked both ways. The boy told many stories about how the peasants in the field shared what little they had and made merry of it; he told about dances in the barns and threshing meets; he spoke of country weddings and Yuletide offerings. Slowly, the emperor began to be affected by the boy and his open, giving ways. As the years passed, the people of the land noticed that the old despot began to mellow in his age. The taxes became lighter, the tithes became less burdensome, and the fist of the law clutched less deeply, and less cruelly. Prisoners were freed; festivals were decreed; forests and fields were replanted. The wars ended, sending many young men and women home to their families. The phrase 'The Demon Emperor' was heard less and less, and more and more were people heard to say, "Eh, that old goat isn't so bad, really." In time the emperor grew frail with age, and died. On his deathbed, he emptied the coffers of his treasury and gave it all away to the poor, and decreed that the people would rule his country from that day forth. There was a huge funeral procession, and most of the citizens of the land came to watch as the sarcophagus was carried to the river. All could see that, even though he was a withered and elderly man, the dead emperor's face was fixed in a smile of sublime grace, peace, and deep contentment. OW! damned fleas. So you can see.....oi, lads, put the knives away. We won't be using them today; not on these good people. So where was I? Oh, yes. The moral, if a beggar's dirty tale can be said to have a moral, is that the greatest gifts are received, not in the taking, but in the giving. We've seen this moral in action this very day, no? So, then: here's a sweetmeat for you kiddies; there's a fine tot! And here's a pair of bones for you, sir; loaded, they are, and guaranteed to come up Double-Minotaur every time, or my name's not Vicko the Th....the Beggar! And a very fine Founder's Day to YOU, sir! Good Day! Eh, then, milord and milady, can you spare a solitary brass token? Nary a single.....OOF! **************************************************************************** SLOW DANCING Following the Arcade of Fountains northwards from the Plaza of Glittering Steel, we enter into the realms of affluence. There's quite a difference between one side of the River and the other, don't you know. Why, on *this* side are the apartments of the merchants, the priests, the aldermen, and other assorted fat-cats and big-wigs; over *there*, though, we can see whole families living in the culvert outlets just above the level of the waters. Tragic, I say to you, and feel much better having done so, too. Look -- rich,.....rich,......rich. Money everywhere, over *here*. Not that I'm complaining that much, mind you: chimneysweeps don't get hired by the poor. The poor get by with their flues good and filthy. The rich, though -- they seem to have something against grime and soot. Funny, that. Of course, now, if you take a left onto the Street of Verdant Gardens, you start to get back into the not-so-rich. It kind of winds up a little hill, there, and you start to find peculiar little neighborhoods where the rich used to live but they all moved away or died. Places where you can just see 'rich' was, only twenty years ago, but went away, leaving only traces and tatterings..... I always think of that place on Founder's Day. I was actually up there once, four years ago to this day........ - * - Such a maze, this place! The downstairs maid, withered like an old apple, told me the second stair. *What* second stair? These old rambling mansions..... exactly like rat warrens -- built on top of each other, and crumbling into one. Shouldn't be working today anyway. Supposed to have a good bottle on Founder's Day, and be watching the fireworks. Need the extra wedges, though.... Well, this is *definitely* not the back wing. More of an enclosed garden, really, with overgrown statuary, and birdbaths of marble with green water... Oh, but the view! Garden must be built right out over the edge of the hill; ocean looks beautiful from here. And there's the Bard Barge! Used to love the Bard Barge as a kid. A big boat, loaded to the gills with musicmakers, cruising 'round the harbor and playing tunes for anybody to dance to -- and for free! The banners, the flags, the music......quite a nice waltz, that. Well, ought to be finding this back wing. Now.....what's that? A little house, set into the back wall of the garden, perched over the edge of the cliff itself! And movement inside! Simply *must* see..... Ye Gods, it's a mausoleum! But so old.....the bronze fittings of the door covered with verdigris......it's open a crack; just a peek can't hurt..... It's a dance. Oh, but what a dance! This cannot be a mausoleum. Surely it is a dancehall of the most respectable stripe, bedecked with the finest trappings and bric-a-brac! There is an ice sculpture of swans intertwined, and over there is a banquet fit for a king! There are ribbons, and garlands, and banners loudly proclaiming: HAPPY FOUNDER'S DAY, CADETS OF TORTOISE YEAR! Tortoise Year?! Father was BORN that year! But the most marvelous part: the dancers! Men in formal military coats (the old red kind, not the grey) with their polished buttons and sabres! The women in their elegant gowns, in outrageous patterns of an age gone by! They dance! They dance to the strains of the waltz from the Barge outside! How smooth and graceful, these dancers! They weave in and bob out like the show-horses on parade! They take a partner, bow, glide through intricate patterns on the floor, meet in the center, and take new partners -- all without missing a single step! They are as polished as professional dancers, and have the look of those who have their paces well-rehearsed..... That woman! oh, what a beauty she is! Aquiline nose, fair skin, ivory hair coursing down from her dated headpiece; the men seek her out, and she flirts with them all! Oh, how radiant! and such a luminous quality she possesses! (although, now that I think about it, they all appear that way.....) She is the most desirable person in the world; what I would give to dance with her.... Well, why not? Who will cast me out on Founder's Day? Just one quick dance, and then I'm off! I'll just slip in.... AH! Where did they.....how? 'Tis a mausoleum after all, I fear. Nothing here but crypts and a few mouldering coffins. No regalia, or regals for that matter. It must have been a fantasy I day-dreamed! It was the memory of the Bard Barge that did it, I suppose. Such a shame -- that feast, the merrymaking, and that perfect, lovely woman from an age gone by.....all figments of my imagination. Nothing at all like these tumbled stones and cracked boxes of wood and obsidian..... ....from one of which spills a cascade of silky, ivory hair.... - * - .....So you can see, I suppose, why it was that I ran. All the way home, too, where I tucked into a flask of rye I keep on hand for emergencies. Well, it's Founder's Day again. Smarter this year, I was; I've arranged to have the day off. Nobody should have to work during Founder's Day. Where'm I off to? Ah.....well, you see.... I went about it all wrong. This time I've had a bath, and I've got on an outfit that my grandfather used to have. Look: flowers! Smell nice too. I shall knock this time, and be as courteous as I know how. A perfect guest, that's me. Listen! the Bard Barge! If I hurry, she might just let me have the first dance. ****************************************************************************** CENTER STAGE AT THE INN Attention! Attention, everybody! Quiet down, everybody! Norm! Quiet! Our first show for the evening is beginning! On stage: Mikhail of Krodas on pipes, Sevve temQuinones on accordiano, and on vocals and rhapsodine, our own Listener! Quiet please! Ahem. It this thing on? In honor of Founder's Day, we'll be playing _The_First_Stone. Hope you like it. Miles ahead -- more open road Far from my home I've strayed The blue sky's gone and greyed I've far to go, I am afraid/ I stagger from my load My weakness is betrayed But ere a pavement's made There must have been the first stone ever laid Chorus: Can't build a house from nothing Can't squeeze blood from a stone Can't sing a song by rushing Can't dance a waltz alone Can't kill two birds with one shot Can't dice with Ginzu blade Gotta make the most what you've got Gotta be the first stone ever laid. This field will never grow But for so long I've yearned Lessons I've never learned Rewards I wish that I had earned/ The summer months are slow My shirt is torn; my back is burned But ere the soil is churned There must have been the first stone ever turned (Repeat Chorus) They raised this city tall While sleepy cattle grazed And sleepy people lazed They must have thought that we were crazed/ This came from naught at all And now is highly praised But ere the first tale's phrased There must have been the first stone ever raised... Everybody! (Repeat Chorus) There's gotta be the first stone ever laid. (Chord) Thank you! Thank you, everybody! Happy Birthday, Generica! Happy Birthday, Dragon's Inn! ****************************************************************************** ADMIN: .....and Happy Birthday, APD-I! Many more! -- HWRNMNBSOL MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: HAPPY BIRTHDAY A.P.D-I Date: 13 May 1993 07:26:22 GMT Message-ID: <1sst6u$huu@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: archives Although the "official Birthday" is May-12th, APDI didn't get into Australia until May-13th. I know because I was there! (it was still May-12th for most of you anyway :^) so, HAPPY BIRTHDAY Alt.Pub.Dragons-Inn and I wish you many more to come. from an original ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Bulletin Board Date: 13 May 1993 07:27:28 GMT Message-ID: <1sst90$huu@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: Bulletin, board, admin -=- Dragon's Inn Bulletin Board -=- week ending 14-May-93 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NEW THIS WEEK: none -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OTHER ACTIVE POSTS: Posted by: Imports, Exports, and Arms (Jeremy Nelson, gujn@uniwa.edu.au) Content: WE apologize for any time distortions in the local area, however, due to testing of a device (Henceforward known as 'The Thing'), the local timestream has become dislocated. There is no danger, however some people may undergo slight disorientation. Some people may apparently find themselves in multiple locations at one time. We assure customers that this is not dangerous, and all time lines are in fact continuous, and will straighten themselves out in time. We recommend leaving early for any important appointments. Normal service will be restored tomorrow, yesterday, in three weeks' time, and in three hundred and thirty years. All complaints should be forwarded to: Imports, Exports, and Arms. We thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Moriarty (Aaron Humphrey, aaron@space.ualberta.ca) Content: |-------------------------------| | Moriarty Investigations, Inc. | | | | Magic and muscle at your | | service! No problem too large | | or small! Reasonable rates! | | | | 15A-Gamma Cor Caroli Lane | | Just off the Arcade of | | Unforgotten Heroes! | |-------------------------------| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Trawm (The Dreamer, asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Content: Attention all Real Men: If you is reading this then you is in the rong bar. Come to the Spitting Cobra were you can have a good time at a good prise. FITING ENKOURAGED. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Malthus Dela Noeuze (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Content: **************************************** ** Perfumerie Grand Veneur ** ** Is Seeking a Person To ** ** Find and Bring Back a Great ** ** Blooddrinker or Souleater ** ** For Perfumeric Substances ** ** All Contacts Considered ** ** ** ** Master Perfumerist Malthus ** ** Dela Noeuze ** **************************************** SPECIAL STATUS: Posted by: Zenith (Mike Bavister, mrhyde@netcom.com Content: ANNOUNCING THE A.P.D-I ARCHIVES I have been carefully recording all that has transpired here at the Inn and in Generica. I estimate that my archives are missing less than 1 in 100. The archives contain over 4600 chapters (articles) in 20 huge volumes (MB). Currently the archives are only indexed by Subject (Subject line), but my trusty scribes are hard at work attempting to compile a keyword-index by name, place, and "thread". Alas, this task may take a while. There are two methods by which you, the citizens of Generica, can access the archives (and their indexes). Via the Post-Office or by Magic. Via Mail: Send mail to the address below, with your request in the body of the message. I will then search the index(es) for you, and either mail you the matching "chapters" or a list of matches (if there are too many "hits"). Until the keyword index is compiled, I will be very reluctant to search the actual archives for your requests. TO: mrhyde@netcom.com. EXAMPLE: Dear Zenith, Please search your archives for all occurance of "Lancos" or "Zebron". Thanks. Via Magic: I have set aside a portion of my personal library for the Indexes and other materials of interest. If you know the powerful "FTP" spell, you can access the indexes directly. The arcane formula is listed below. This archive is "read-only", you may retrieve anything you like from it, but you can't place anything there. If there is something you'd like placed there for the benefit of all Generican citizens, let me know via mail. Do not forget to use "binary mode" for all not in ".txt" format. The FTP library currently contains: Subject indexes (no.1-no.3999) The Directory of Generica (latest edition) JourneyGarb flyer/catalog APDI FAQs (full and mini) And coming soon: The DragonQuest Saga *note* All ".zip" files are compressed using the latest state-of-the-art compression magic. Older uncompression magic may not work (use "zip19" or "pkzip2.04"). If you have any difficulty with either the transfer of files or decompression, please let me know. ftp netcom.com(192.100.81.100) login: anonymous password: (your e-mail address) cd /pub/mrhyde/APDI Cheers and happy reading ____ / __ __ o _|_ | / |__| | | | | |__ /___ |__ | | | |_/ | | Head Librarian of the Great Library of Generica -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- REMOVED THIS WEEK : none _________________________________________________________________________ ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BDAY] ...sage : wandering Date: 13 May 1993 07:36:52 GMT Message-ID: <1sstqk$huu@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: archives The words he had read about his possible history battered the cloud in his mind and left him dazed long after he had returned the book to the library via the mailbox under Littlefair's counter. The sounds of the party growing in momentum filtered through from outside and ...sage, needing the distraction, moved to the door. ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader Date: Thu, 13 May 1993 12:49:02 EDT From: Message-ID: <93133.124902BANNON@MAINE.MAINE.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [Karl] Ashes to ashes... References: <1993May11.183653.22731@midway.uchicago.edu> Hazy had been spending some time in the Southern Islands having made friends with some Tin Pot Dolphins and followed them down there for the Thronging of the species. It was an invitation too interesting to pass up. She left them because she wanted to be sure she was back in Generica for the a.p.Dragon's Inn birthday celebration. Flying in over the city in her mist form, she dodged spectacular bursts of fireworks, so as not to "dampen" the displays. They were breathtaking, huge, brilliant, and some even made musical chimes and flute-like sounds as they drifted to the ground. On impulse she decided to see if Karl was about. He wasn't the sort to go out this early in the evening, it usually took him a while to get up a head of steam. He might be at home. She arrived at his quarters and saw a young man with a melancholy air about him walking down the street away from the building. "Too bad, to be so unhappy on a night such as this," she thought sympathetically. At the door she darkened to a more solid form and banged the iron doorknocker. There was no response after several minutes. Hazy sighed. "Oh well. Friendly company would have been nice. Perhaps I should slip in and leave him a note." She smiled thinking that he would like that, especially since he had been the first one to start her on the road to literacy while on shipboard. She faded to an invisible mist and wafted down to the ground and through the crack underneath the door. She drifted about a little, seeing things she remembered here and there. His trunk. His books. Some of his scrimshaw. She figured as long as she didn't touch anything, he probably wouldn't mind. He wouldn't know she had looked around anyways. She would put in the note, "Just came in for a second. Couldn't stay. Wanted to leave a note and then hurry off to......." She stopped abruptly in the doorway to his room. There he was on the bed asleep. If she woke him up, she might get in trouble for being pushy and nosey. If she didn't she wouldn't get to talk to him. It had been a LONG time since she'd seen him. She drifted over to the side of the bed and solidified to her usual pearly gray. "Karl!" she whispered. "K-A-rl!" "K-A-R-l!" She touched his cheek with her cool damp hand. His cheek was no warmer than her hand. Then she noticed his chest wasn't moving. "Awww, Karl. My friend, Karl. Why did you have to be a human!?" She smoothed his hair gently. "Why do humans have to leave like this? Oh, I just don't like this at all." Then suddenly, she put her hand to her cheek and her eyes focused way off into the distance. A wave of thoughts had crashed into her mind and everything was all swirling around. "Dear old man, I guess this is one adventure I cannot join you on. I HOPE you take better care of yourself on this journey. It's an awful big and mysterious universe. Perhaps, somehow, our paths may yet cross again." She looked down at him once more. It seemed like she was suppposed to do something or say something. She had no idea what. Odd how different Generica was, now that she knew Karl wasn't in it. She patted his shoulder, sighed, and left. In her darker gray form she walked pensively down a dim cobblestone street. A well-dressed couple approached from the other direction. The man whispered something to the lady and she laughed. After taking a few steps past them Hazy stopped and turned to look at their retreating backs. "Karl is dead, you know!" she called after them. The lady glanced back over her shoulder and shook her head. She murmmered something to the man and he chuckled. Hazy Drifter (R.I.P. Karl) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@lamar.ColoState.EDU (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] Palandun: Hanging out at the inn. Message-ID: Date: Thu, 13 May 1993 18:12:42 GMT References: <2946290431.2.wk02092@worldlink.com> Jorma's simple declaration of friendship couldn't help but make Palandun and Ja'nis smile. "I'm taking a trip to Specifica of the Gems soon," Ja'nis says, "For a few days, but before Palandun wants to begin work. Would you like to join us?" Palandun meanwhile notes someone staring intently at him. "May I help you?" He asks. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kring@efes.physik.uni-kl.de (Thomas Kettenring) Subject: Re: [NTY] Palandun: Hanging out at the inn. Message-ID: <1993May14.001309.19770@rhrk.uni-kl.de> References: <2946290431.2.wk02092@worldlink.com> Date: Fri, 14 May 1993 00:13:09 GMT In article , arsmith@lamar.ColoState.EDU (Alan Smith) writes: >Jorma's simple declaration of friendship couldn't help but make Palandun >and Ja'nis smile. "I'm taking a trip to Specifica of the Gems soon," Ja'nis >says, "For a few days, but before Palandun wants to begin work. Would you like >to join us?" > >Palandun meanwhile notes someone staring intently at him. "May I help you?" >He asks. Bakr took a deep breath. "Oh, I just overheard your question about rats, and I just came back from a giant rat hunt in the sewers, and I fought giant rats before... that doesn't make me an expert but at least I know how to handle the beasts." -- thomas kettenring, 3 dan, kaiserslautern, germany The extraterrestrials don't even know this planet has native inhabitants. Their government doesn't tell them. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [BDAY] Dancing in the Streets Message-ID: References: <1sst6u$huu@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> <1sstqk$huu@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> <93133.124902BANNON@MAINE.MAINE.EDU> <1993May11.183653.22731@midway.uchicago.edu> Date: Fri, 14 May 1993 02:33:10 GMT [ADMIN] Sigh. 'Raelf can backtime. Me, I have a net.lag that y'all would just NOT believe (and the schedule-from-hell at work). Oh well. This is a joint posting cobbled together by Rick Jones, Andrea Evans, and myself. Copyrights and characters retained by authors and all that good stuff. Hutch --- Even Littlefair had gone out of his way for this year's big Midsummer Fest. He had tables set up, in the streets around the Dragons' Inn, big bales of hay keeping the traffic from getting too close. There were even some Dark Corners provided - One end had a big striped canvas tent which blocked out the too-bright sun, for those customers who had sensitive eyes or skin prone to burning. Lurking in a dark corner can do that. About a half hour before sunset, Krupp Faraway walked up to the table where 'Raelf was sitting, long cat's tail twitching in time to the rhythms of a drum-dance being played by a group of travelling minstrels. ar'Elya was sitting there, twirling, and Krupp began to get a slight headache with them flickering back and forth. "Cut it out," he told himself. The headache vanished. "Who's the wizards?" whispered the imp on his shoulder. "Coupla folks I know," was Krupp's terse reply. "Look, if you want to beat it for a while, Lotus, go for it. This is a party, not business." "Really? Numbers never even let me out of the bottle." "Yeah, well, I'm an old softie. Beat it." Krupp walked over to the pair of mages. "Hello, 'Raelf, ar'Elya." They stopped staring mush at each other and noticed Krupp standing halfway through the middle of a bench. It was kind of crowded in here. "Hey Krupp, how ghost it?" 'Raelf murmured, and flinched as ar'Elya gave him a slug on the arm. Krupp looked closer, and realized that the snowflake was mostly being a big redhaired barbarian guy of the all-muscle-little-brain variety - he vaguely recalled seeing him down at Trawm's combat pit in the Spitting Cobra back before he left to go looking for Creft. "The usual," he said, moving out of the way as one of the Dark Corner Lurkers tried to sit down where he was standing. He ended up next to the food bar, and the halfling instincts in him started thinking about how to put together some kind of sandwich as big as his head. Then he remembered that wouldn't do him any good, being dead and all. 'Raelf gave a long lazy feline-type yawn, and nudged the spectral detective on the shoulder. "C'mere, siddown." "What?" Krupp hopped up onto a chair next to 'Raelf. "You wanna drink?" "Drink? Sure, and I'd like a big meal and a night with the three Bildurbom sisters too, for all the good it does me." Krupp removed his battered fedora, and jammed it into the pocket of his coat. "Well, I can't get you the other things," 'Raelf grabbed another pitcher off the bar tray next to the food table - the advantages of the location were pretty clear - "but I did stop off to visit e friend on my way back into town." "You were gone?" "Yeah, went back home, but you know, travel off-plane doesn't always take any time here, so I was back almost before I left." "What's back at home?" "Oh, well, I had to bud off a kitten." "Huh?" "I'm in line for inheriting, had to split off an heir, so if I get killed in this upcoming nightmare shit, the family pride will be safe." "Hunh. Do tell." Krupp nodded, trying his best to give the impression that he understood what 'Raelf was talking about. ar'Elya bent over and whispered in his ear, "He just had a kid, Krupp, so his folks won't drag him back in chains for leaving them without an heir to the family name." Krupp thought for a moment, then decided he didn't like what he thought he was hearing. "HE had the kid. Right. Sure. Wizards. urg." "So you wanna drink, dude?" 'Raelf held out one paw, which held a small gold-covered hip flask, engraved with a spiral. The top of the flask was glass, sort of - more like diamond, really, or sapphire, or really deep emerald. The gold-chased cap was held on by a chain, and there was a cork inside. The smell coming off the open flask made Krupp's mouth remember how to water. "What is that stuff?" "One half delerium, one half pure delight. She was happy to give it." "Who she, and what makes you think I can ..." 'Raelf reached out, and took Krupp's hand, and wrapped it around the flask. It was solid to his touch. "Take a sup, Krupp, t'won't kill you to try it." The halfling ghost brought the flask to his lips, and took a swig. His eyes crossed, he sat down hard, and little puffs of smoke began to curl out his ears. "Smooooth!" he gasped. "What did you say it was?" Krupp coughed and purple smoke came out. The smoke formed into a cloud dragon, and flew away. "Delirium's Tears." "Wooh!" He blinked. One eye changed color, and everything started to look very new, or at least, different. The drummers started up another set and 'Raelf and ar'Elya got up for a few minutes to go out and join in the dancing - some thing having to do with swords and flaming pots of oil. As they finished and returned, Kadrys slipped his way toward them through the crowd, somehow avoiding the intervening forest of gesticulating hands and the brimming glasses. He helped himself to a chair, grinning at them all in silent greeting. "So Krupp?" "Yeah?" "How goes the murder mystery?" "Wha?" "Your murderer? You find out who dunnit?" "Sorta. I mean, I had a pretty good idea Creft ordered it done. And I found the guy who Creft told to get it done. But he got kacked, himself. But," Krupp clasped his hands behind his head, and grinned, "I got a lead or three, no big deal. Hey, howcome you're asking me? Can't you just, you know," Krupp twiddled his fingers in a poor imitation of spellcasting gestures, "go back to when it happened, find out for yourself?" "Nah, it's too far back, too much noise, an' besides, I'd attract too much attention from the wrong kind of people. Like the thing in the pool, you remember?" "What thing in the pool?" asked Krupp. ar'Elya nudged 'Raelf, who teetered over for a moment before regaining his balance. "Most people can't look into the psionic equivalent of a nuclear explosion and see ground zero." Krupp watched with amusement as the 'Raelf started babbling about 'partial perceptions' and 'astral disturbances.' ar'Elya rolled her eyes, causing Krupp to giggle. 'Raelf stopped talking and grinned. "I must be thunker than I drink," he said, "Trying to explain paranuclear physics to Sam Spade." "Who's he?" Krupp asked, wondering if he wanted to know. "A gumshoe back on Arkham. So, what, do you WANT me to go look for your murderer?" "Nah, I'll find the mishgreant mysel. Miscreant." Krupp blinked, and watched the pretty colors sparkle around briefly. "So what _can_ I do for you then?" 'Raelf asked, lapping up another mug of that liquid fire he kept drinking. Krupp thought for a second, then replied. "Hey, there's this big pile of gold and treasure and stuff, under one of the warehouses that burned in the storm. Can you get me some of that stuff? I wanna re-open my office and I need the cold hard shiny." "Sure, if you wanna come with me and help scout it out." "Great. When you wanna do this?" "Hey, no time like the present, my fuzzy-toed friend." Krupp shook his head vigorously. "This is a party, my fuzzy-bodied friend. There's always tomorrow. Hell, I got lots of tomorrows." "Ray, do I have a fuzzy body right now?" 'Raelf asked, patting at his arms and face. The barbarian just stared at him. "Not as far as I can see," Kadrys replied, leaning forward from where he'd been hiding back in the shadows. "Good evening, Mr. Faraway." "Likewise," Krupp replied, then batted at the butterflies that were starting to flutter out of his fedora. He jammed it back into his pocket and leaned forward to face Kadrys. "So, you've been around quite some time, I hear." "You could say that." Krupp stage whispered to 'Raelf "I just did." He rolled his now-multi-colored eyes. So, what's your secret?" Kadrys raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" "I mean, I've just been a ghost for a few months now, and only just a few weeks ago got that charge that allowed me to leave that damn alleyway. But this sucks, being a ghost. Almost nobody notices me, I can't touch anything without lots of effort. I can't eat real food like this spread." Krupp waved his hand at the lush table set out by Littlefair. "I eat fear and despair and crap like that. It seems that our problems are similar, to a point. So, mister 'you could say that', how is it done?" Kadrys allowed himself a brief smile before sobering. "Well, firstly, it still remains to be seen whether you're here for the long term. I understand you're here to hunt down your murderers. If you succeed, what then? Will you be forced to stay after your mission here is complete? I suspect not." ar'Elya interjected, "He's here for the duration, Kadrys. He's bound to the environs of Generica, but he won't fade after he solves his case." He grinned, "He better not. Ale wouldn't be happy if you skipped payment." "I'm workin' on it." protested Krupp. Kadrys continued. "If you _do_ fulfil the task you've set yourself, and you're still here after that, _then_ and not before is the time you should really start thinking about the long term." Kadrys saw the suppressed fuming on the Halfling's face, and sighed. "Yes, I know, that's not what you wanted to hear. You _are_ the impatient type. And if you _are_ here for the long run, that'll have to change. Impatience, the need to have what you want yesterday, is going to cause you nothing but endless frustration." He grinned whitely. "All right. Rule One: Life sucks. Forget fairness, forget justice. Life and the living owe you absolutely _nothing_. Never _expect_ the desirable outcome. If something can go wrong, assume it will. That way you'll avoid a lot of disappointment, a lot of unpleasant surprises." "Heck, I knew that already," said Krupp. "I've been around the block a couple of times." Kadrys nodded apologetically to Krupp before continuing. "Rule Two: Life may suck, but it's better than the alternative. When life _does_ rear up and bite you, keep that in mind. You _could_ always wind up in Hell. I don't know what Hell is for you, but I do know it _would_ be worse than anything that'll happen up here." Krupp snickered. "I saw Hell. It's a big green hill, with my slap-happy ancestors eating all day without getting full. And talking about Aunt Frieda's gout, and the Sterners grandchildren, and how they write more often, unlike some stuck-up city hobbits." Krupp grimaced. Kadrys looked incredulous. "'s true, dude," said 'Raelf. "Snugglebunch here ran a memory trace." "Snugglebunch?" said ar'Elya, fuming. "Brother, you are gonna regret that one." He clenched a ham-sized fist. "Honeygrumbles?" 'Raelf said, teasingly. "Now snokkiepoo, we mustn't frighten the horses, y'know." He poked at the redhead's ribs. "That tears it," the barbarian giant growled, and one foot stomped down hard on the blond wizard's foot, then he grabbed 'Raelf by the poncho and dragged him in close, then started pounding on his head with a wooden plate. "OW OW OW! HEY CUT IT OUT, I GIVE!" 'Raelf was laughing so hard that he couldn't get loose from the grip, so he just slumped. "YOU WIN!" "No more cutesy-sick pet names?" the barbarian growled. "I Promise. Really, word of honor." 'Raelf began to wriggle his left foot out from under the barbarian's imprisoning boot. "Oh yeah? Whose?" >KlonkKlonk< "OW OW - uh, no OW really I promise. Pax!" "All right, but you just watch it." 'Raelf retrieved himself from the headlock and felt for injuries, flickering as he fixed them up. He looked up at the slightly annoyed expression on Kadrys' face. "Uhm, sorry, we're done." Kadrys carefully suppressed a smirk and continued. "Rule Three: Nothing lasts forever. Change is the only changelessness. No matter how bad things get, something _will_ happen to change them. - Of course," he added with a somewhat bitter smile, "that's a two-edged sword. Rest assured that the good times will also come to an end. ... Rule Four: Nature abhors difference. Anything that allows you to resemble the living is of inestimable value. Your empathy, your ability to think like them, understand them, is priceless. Guard it with all your strength. All creatures will try to destroy those different from them. That certainly includes humanoids. Stop thinking like them, stop empathising, stop understanding them, and you become a monster. Kiss your sanity goodbye. And your existence shortly thereafter. The single favourite humanoid pastime will always be Slay The Monster. ... Anyway, that's about it. Distilled into its purest form, survival amounts to living by those four rules, at _all_ times. Learn to cope with them all, or go mad and die. It's that simple." Krupp shook his head, "Boy, remind me not to invite you to any other parties." He took a swig of the Tears. "You need to lighten up," the words appeared above his head in a white cloud. Krupp looked up and swatted the cloud, which slowly faded. Kadrys laughed at the sight, his previously grim visage lightening. "Perhaps so, Krupp. But at least think about it." There were distant explosions and light began to flicker, the fireworks had started. Happy birthday... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [Party] Kardia: Another Day in the Garden Message-ID: <1993May13.212623.9977@data-io.com> Date: Thu, 13 May 1993 21:26:23 GMT Kardia slept late the morning after she finished Sheryl's cover. It felt good to have gotten that job done. By the time she was dressed, washed and in the main room, the Inn was bustling with party preparations. As she passed by the bar, Mary's soft voice said, "Kardia. There's a message for you." Kardia nodded absently at the matron and read the note from Andrea. She frowned, folded it up and put it in her pouch. "Open spaces, her?" she muttered. "Odd." Kardia shook her head and then caught Mary's eye, "I'd like to stay another night, may I pay for that now?" "Certainly." Kardia pulled the money from her belt. "Where is the party tonight?" "The main square. It should be a marvel..." Mary smiled. "... and well deserved." "Mmm...." said Kardia with a smile, "It's been a long time since I've been to a party." She pocketed her change. "Thank you." "You're very welcome. One of the quieter guests we've had." Mary said with a laugh. Kardia shook her head with a wry grin and turned for the door. A small sound at her elbow and Kardia looked to see Kadrys right there. "Oh." she said, just a touch startled. She felt herself blushing again and frowned, brushing at her old baggy work cloths. "Hello." He raised one eyebrow in a perfect arch. "Speaking today?" Kardia smiled, "Yes, indeed. I'm done and about to run off to take a look at something I planted in Vitor's Gardens." "Would you like to accompany me to the party tonight?" "Oh, yes, please!" Kardia said, and then realized just how much she'd put into that when that eyebrow went up again and Kadrys gave her just the faintest of smiles. She blushed again. "I'd really like that." "I'll be by your room this evening, then." She nodded and managed to sedately walk out of the door of the Dragon's Inn. Once out, however, she laughed, pirouetted and started running for the Public Gardens in the spring sunshine. * * * The Gardens were in bloom. A riot of green, everywhere. There were more flowers of more colors than Kardia had ever seen before, and the whole Garden hummed and buzzed with bees. Kardia knew where she was going this time, so she didn't stop to look. She ran, delighting in using the full stretch of her legs, the spring of each step, and soon she forgot to wonder every time her left foot hit the ground. She was also quite breathless by the time she reached the patch where she'd planted the moon silk seeds. "Oh, wow!" she said at seeing the patch. There were tender green spears nearly knee high with the silver dusted leaves spread over the whole patch. Kardia pulled on her elbow length gloves, over the sleeves of the old shirt she was using. She then pulled her socks over the cuffs of her pants and very carefully and gently waded into the patch. Her hand pushed aside the stalks, searching for and finding plants of other shapes and sizes amid the densely sown moon silk. She smiled at the fact that there were no snaps or crunches from the tender spears of plants. They were still young enough to bend and not break. This would be the first and last time she'd get a solid weeding in, and as densely as they'd grown, it'd probably be the last time she'd need to. The clearing of a throat had Kardia turned at an odd angle. She turned the other way and saw Vitor looking at her with some disapproval. Kardia blinked, then looked down at the handful of weeds she'd already pulled. "Oh..." He nodded and then tossed her a basket that was half full of dirt. "Please plant them in there." She smiled and nodded, and pressed the handful into the soft dirt in the basket. The basket had a leather strap instead of a wooden handle, so she hung it around her neck. The length was perfect for keeping it out of her way and still shortening the distance her hands had to go to put the weeds, no... plants into it. The basket also protected her face from the leaves of the moon silk, simply by being in the way. The basket was exactly big enough for one pass to the far end of the patch and back. Kardia shook her head in wonder as she carefully transfered the plants into the wheelbarrow that was waiting for her on the path. She went back and forth three more times, and by the time she was done with the patch the sun was starting to go low in the sky. She wheeled the wheelbarrow back where she remembered one of the tool sheds to be and neatly placed the basket within the others that were there. Her muscles were sore from the afternoon's work, but not nearly as sore as when she had done the planting. Happily, she walked back to the Dragon's Inn to wash up and get ready for the party. --- [ADMIN: Much thanks to Andrea Evans for her permission to have Kadrys ask Kardia to the party. -ll] -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir-the-Love-Stricken-and-happy) Subject: [Sorc] An Assembly of Magicians Message-ID: Date: Fri, 14 May 1993 11:37:26 GMT Hours had passed by, Saoirse and Talon had actually managed to get some sleep after their long haul of the previous days. They were exhausted and needed the rest. Saoirse had gone back to her rooms in the Academy's Central Chambers and Quarters only to find them turned upside down and inside out with rubbish of every description. One of the walls had fallen, and the roof-beams hung precariously. She had thus gone and found a mundane house abandoned and decided that she needed the sleep. There were many fires being put out all over the city and one of the first things to be done was getting Weather Control back on line before it was too late. She didn't care. She slept soundly, and deeply. Talon had a less easy time of sleeping because he could hear what was going on outside. Some people have all the luck, he thought, looking at her. For the first time, Talon really looked at her. She looked so peaceful, lying there, her blonde hair strewn all about, but she was beautiful. He felt a stirring in places that he'd rather not have felt straight away, but he couldn't help it. He shook his head, laughing in a wistful way to himself and rolled over to sleep. "Hah! You old Goat. She'd never have you" He smiled to himself, listening to his own voice, chuckled once more, and promptly fell asleep. When she awoke, Saoirse saw that Talon was in meditation or something. She got up quietly and looked at her bedraggled robes. Walking to the next room, she shut the door and cast a quick holding spell over it, then pulled down the blinds. Then she quickly removed her robes, inspecting them for damage in a very thorough and practical way, seeing that they weren't too badly torn, just muddied, quickly cast a spell over them. The dirt just evaporated straight off them, and many of the minor tears and scratches were repaired. Satisfied with a job well done, she quickly put her now-presentable clothes over her head and opened the door again. Talon turned around. He had a grave expression on his face. She started to use sign language to ask what the matter was, but after a brief second remembered that he couldn't read it. It was back to mental communication instead. 'What's the matter, Talon', she asked concernedly. "I have just been in contact with the Guild in Generica. It would seem that Delalle died a short time ago at unknown hands ", he looked depressed. 'Oh dear. Talon I'm very sorry.' Saoirse looked concerned, caring. "I know, dear, I know. Delalle had been expecting his death for a long time. He knew it was coming, you could say. I may have to return to the city very soon if there is to be any sort of appointments or whatever to positions of the Guild .. " 'No, Talon, you can't. You're still needed here, as a neutral, remember?' He just nodded. There was a fleck of tears in his eyes. 'Talon, I know that Delalle and you were good friends, despite rank. I understand. I've lost people here too. But we still need you here. The whole situation is still on a knife-edge' Talon wiped his eyes, and stood up. Gods, she's beautiful, was all he could think of. Delalle was gone. Poor old Delalle. What would be done in the Council? Would the dreaded Thorn assume the top position? There would be more infighting, more wars, albeit on a smaller scale than had been encountered here in Magira. Gods she's beautiful. "Lady, I trust that there will be a Council meeting held soon?" Saoirse nodded and used a spell to contact Jarakh. The Chief Ponticar responded quickly. 'Saoirse, are you well?' 'Yes, Jarakh. When will the remainder of the Council be meeting?' 'Well actually, the whole damn Academy, or what's left of it, will be meeting in about half an hour in the reconstructed Hall' 'The Assembly is meeting?' 'Yup' 'We'll be there. What of the two Ex-Masters?' 'Well, they will be dealt with. Expect heavy security in the area. We're erecting a huge Null Zone in the Hall in case anything should happen.' 'Thanks. See you soon.' Saoirse turned to Talon. 'The entire Assembly meets. We'll have to go early to get good seats.' "Yes, Saoirse, of course. I just wanted to say ... ", Talon faltered. 'Say what?' "I just wanted to thank you. That's all", he blurted and flushed red. 'It is I who should be thanking you Talon. You've helped save our city after all. Now come on, let's go before we are missed' He nodded assent and cast his own transportation spell, as did she. They arrived outside the Hall to see that there was line of mages waiting to get in to the place. Many of them looked battle weary. A few of them looked angry. Each was placing his hand on a crystal under the watchful eye of some Ponticars and speaking his name, awaiting positive identification. All was going smoothly, though there were several comments like "scandalous" and so on being passed up and down the line. Saoirse spotted Jarakh at the head of the line, supervising. He waved at them to come on past the Line. "Well, glad you could make it, Saoirse. You too, Talon. Listen, I've got to make sure that you are all for real. So just put your hand on the crystal and speak your name, then go on in. You've got special places reserved for you." Saoirse placed her hand upon the crystal and thought "Saoirse" The thing buzzed for a second, then cleared Identification. She walked on through. Talon looked at Jarakh. "Is my name on that infernal itme's records, Jarakh?" he asked quietly. Jarakh looked blankly at Talon for a second. "Actually ... " his voice trailed off and he went up to the crystal. "Jarakh ", he said simply, placing his hands on the ball. "Idenitified. Special Security status confirmed" Using mental commands, Jarakh pulled up a menu and searched the records for Talon's name. Seeing it not to be there, he added it quickly. He grabbed Talon's hand, which surprised Talon a little, put he let it pass, and Jarakh placed Talon's hand on the crystal. 'Run full scan' Talon felt this buzzing sensation, quite painful, reverberating through his body. "No Anomalies detected. Subject is human, mage, bears no influences or charms adversely affecting behaviour." 'Store record' Talon was then let through. Once inside, he saw the Hall of the Assembly, which he had been in several times before to speak to the Assembly on matters diplomatic or whatever. He had many times been under it's lofty roof, with it's graceful arches and intriguing artwork covering all the ceiling. The Hall was made completely out of marble and gold, with many murals decorating either side of it. A truly splendid piece of architecture by all accounts. But it didn't look too good at the moment. The floor was littered with dust and small stones. The hall had obviously taken a few hits, but seemed structurally intact. There were obvious signs of recent magical repair work having taken place in many parts of the Hall. Several mages were already seated. The hall was circular, with seats going outward from the center where the Council sat, and the podium just below that where speakers got up to speak. There were also special seats on a lower level than the raised Council ones which allowed special guests and people of importance to have a good vantage point. The Main seats of the hall followed the circular pattern, but were raised more as one went away from the center, like the inside of an inverted cone. Saoirse was sitting in one of the special seats, and waiting for Talon. She attempted to mentally communicate, but found that there was a powerful aura damping out magic to an extreme degree. She tried again, but to no avail. Talon said to her "I've had a bit of trouble at the door, what about you ?" She signed, then stopped when he looked confused. She thought for a second, and looked up upon the desk in front of the Master's chairs. There was a pencil and paper there, so she quickly grabbed them and started writing. 'I can't use my magic. Anti-magic field is blocking out everything.' "Oh. Well, what will you do, then?" 'You'll have to speak for us' Talon didn't appear too bothered by that prospect. He just nodded and waited. Soon enough, all the mages had passed through the door and were seated. Then the Masters arrived. They were dressed in ceremonial robes. Of the Nine, only six were actually present. They arrived and sat down with what grace they could manage. Jarakh then came in a little hurriedly after them, taking his place on the Council. Most of the Council looked wearied, exhausted even. All that spell-casting must have put an incredible strain on them, thought Saoirse to herself. The Masters all sat, getting themselves comfortable. Then, the bailiff, not a Master, just an announcer, stood up and cleared this throat. "I call this Emergency Session of the Assembly to Order. On this day, the fifteenth of the seventh month, 1244 by Magiran reckoning, let it be known for the record that there has been, for the second time in Magiran history, a Civil War among the Academics and Scholars of the city. Present, at this, the necessary meetings to settle the dispute, there are the following Masters ", the bailiff took out a list of names. "Zargan, Master of Administration and Master of the Council ... " Zargan stood, as per Magiran custom. He was and aged man, about sixty years of age with a short white beard and long greying hair. He was not balding at all. He looked tired, possibly injured from the previous days. He sat down again, looking grateful to be able to sit . " ... Tanemar , Master of Research ..." Tanemar was a youngish man, looking no more than fortyfive at the latest. He appeared rested but likewise weary. His eyes were an odd bluish colour, and his hair was short and black, He had no beard. " ... Jarakh, Chief Justice Ponticar ..." Jarakh stood and looked eminently relaxed. He was obviously good at making appearnces, and looked well-rested. " ... Lothaer , Master of Lore ... " The Master of Lore was an old and very wizened man. Most guesses would have said that he was perhaps eighty, maybe more. His beard was long and white and he leaned on a staff for support. Lothaer looked a bit frightened, in fact, or perhaps paranoid. " ... Damar , Master of Alchemy ..." The Master of Alchemy on the other hand, was the youngest looking of the lot. She looked no more than thirty, younger than Saoirse even. She was looking thoughtful, perhaps thinking of the days previous. " ... Sar-Gatan, Master of Tutoring ... " Sar-Gatan looked to be a stately man of advanced years. His bearing was regal, like a headmasters, and he had the sort of gaze that fixed you and made you feel guilty. His beard was still quite black in places, but he was quite bald on top. A tall man, perhaps 6'3" or more. " ... and Khelm, Master of Dimplomacy ... " Khelm was a youngish man. He was dark skinned and robust, looking positively jovial. There were many dark looks around the Assembly to see such a broad smile. He sat down. " ... Owing to the prevailing situation, the Masters Laerean and G'phalath have been removed from the Council for treasonous acts. Thus, the order of business for the day is as follows ... Firstly, deciding upon the matter of the the two Ex-Masters, their trial and ascertaining reasons behind their activity. Secondly, selecting two new Masters to replace the old two, if such is necessary. Thirdly, allocating Repairs positions to the Academics and Scholars" The Bailiff sat down, needing breath. Zargan then stood. "Bring the two Ex-Masters in", he said bluntly in deep, husky voice. He seemed definitely angry, but was keeping a lid on his anger. A group of eight Ponticars surrounded two men in chains as they were dragged in. There were many catcalls suddenly from the Assembly. Behind them were other mages also being dragged along. Supporters of the Ex-Masters, no doubt. Both Ex-Masters looked exhausted, defeated. "You Laerean and you G'phalath stand charged with treason, incitement to war, causing conflict between mages and general destruction of Magiran property ", Zargan was definitely having a hard time keeping a lid on his anger ," You have cost the lives for no less than two hundred and twelve Academics, fifteen scholars and three deputy Masters, as well as countless mundanes." G'phalath suddenly broke into fits of laughter, cackling to himself. He hooted and jeered, and giggled. Suddenly his face became veery serious, "Yes I did it!! I did it all!! Hahahahaha!! And I enjoyed it !!! The Master provided, but the Master has gone!! Hahahaaaa!!!" The hall just remained silent as he ranted on and on. Lothaer stood up. "What needs to be ascertained, apart from the obvious guilt of these two ", he waved at them in a fairly disjointed way, like many enfeebled elderly people, "is what the blazes happened. They had backing, BIG backing ", he addressed the Assembly in general, "enough to take us all on, with a few aiding them." At this point, Jarakh stood. "Well, Masters, Assembly, I believe that we may have some answers and inroads to all this. They were being aided by the being named Darmal ", murmurs sprang up around the crowd ,"who was not the Generican Mage that he claimed to be. Talon of Generica confirmed this for me. In pursuit of him, myself and several of my best Ponticars, as well as Talon and Scholar Saoirse, went investigating his location. It was discovered by Ponticar of Communications Sentel. When we tracked him, he was found to be under the Extraplanar Building, in a secretive cavern. He was expecting us, and was protected to the highest degree by PRIMAL energy." Confusion erupted around the Assembly. The Bailiff called the meeting to order with a hammer, like a judge, but didn't get any response for a good two minutes before the crowd settled down. Lothaer stood, "Primal Energy?? He would had to have been a god or a deific minion to wield that stuff. Which would mean that he would have to have a deity behind him to do this !!" More confusion erupted, and the Bailiff brought the meeting to order again. Zargan stood. "Chief Justice, you are SURE that this was Primal Energy?" "Yes , Master of the Council, I am very sure of it. He claimed to be a demigod, but we suspect he was a mere minion of some other, more powerful creature. We have scanned the two Ex-Masters minds and discovered this to be the case. Darmal had contacts and frequently used them. We could not gain a name, but Laerean's mind provided an image of a man in midnight black robes, Magiran fashion." Saoirse stood suddenly, and handed a piece of paper to the bailiff. "The Scholar Saoirse wishes the following to be read: That image is quite the same description as a powerful dream that I have been receiving for severall nights now. He is a tall figure with midnight robes, golden hair and golden eyes. He appears awesomely powerful." She sat down again. Talon also stood. "Assembly, recently there has been much activity in Generica. A force believed to be known as the Great Mother, a hideous monstrosity that lives under our city, was attacked an injured, causing her influences to recede for a time. She has regained her full potential that we can ascertain." Lothaer stood. "The Great Mother yet lives after all these centuries? I have checked with planar movements. It appears that a small miniplane has approached Nexus, and is close to connection near Generica. It is definitely the province of some deity. There is a considerable ammount of activity emanating from this plane." "But who would wish to destroy the city and remove this Great Mother creature? It doesn't make any sense. Where's the gain?" called a mage from the general Assembly. "Presumably something or someone who had a lot to fear from both us and the Great Mother, or someone whom we could act against ", interjected Khelm. "Ye Gods!! ", Lothaer nearly had a heart attack on the spot as realisation dawned upon him suddenly. "Master, are you ill?" Zargan asked quickly. Lothaer just stood there, "of course. It makes perfect sense. After all these years ..." "Master. What makes sense. What's after all these years. Quickly, man we may not have much time" Lothaer just looked Zargan directly in the eye, and transfixed his gaze for a moment and spoke calmly, clearly and succinctly. "Sorceror has returned." Pandemonium broke out all over the Assembly. The name Sorceror was like an racial fear among Magirans. His tale was the stuff of legends. Most Powerful of all the Magirans ever known to have existed, he was once Master of the city, centuries upon centuries ago, but fell from grace by the dark manipulations of the Great Mother. He fled after losing a Civil War with the rest of the city and vanished so far into the planes , approaching the great Concordant. He was believed to have been destroyed by the Concordant's energies, but evidently, his power could contain it. The very thought that one so powerful could return as a god ... "But how?" "What?" "It can't be?" "We're in deep shit" For a solid fifteen minutes, the arguments raged on. "SILENCE " screamed Sar-Gatan in his extreme headmaster manner, "Now listen. I've taught most of you a thing or two and now, listen to what I have to say. We must act. Jabbering here in fear will get nobody ANYWHERE, do you understand?? Now quit acting like yellow bellied apprentices and let's get ON with it." He was stern, and brooked no arguments. Zargan stood, "Thank you, Sar-Gatan. What I propose is this. We need to send out a strike team right now to locate the god or his minions on this plane if they exist. We also need to inform both other Guilds on our plane and Guilds on other planes. Who knows what the Ancient One's plans are. We need to be ready. I suggest that, since the small plane you mentioned is very close to Generica, we send the following in the strike team. Daemel, Jarakh and four Ponticars, Lothaer to observe, Talon to inform his own Guild, Seraskan the deputy Master of Extraplanar is hereby temporarily raised to the status of Master, plus two others from that School." Talon stood "I would propose that Scholar Saoirse be added to this list" Zargan retorted ,"Absoloutely not. We need her here" Saoirse stood up herself, outraged. She wrote something and gave it to the bailiff. "No chance, Master. I'm in this up to my eyeteeth. There's something to do with an elf being involved with all this." "But -" Zargan started. She shook her head, looking determined. "Alright, Scholar Saoirse also. They should leave immediately if possible, bringing anything they can salvage from this destructive war. As for the two Ex-Masters, they will be interred to await a full and proper trial once this situation is handled. Is this passed?" There was a general murmur of approval. "Good, Session adjourned. The strike party should go. Now." They quuickly banded together and summoned various accoetrements. Jarakh took Jemmon, Tyrlis, Kalis and young Sentel as backup. Sentel was surprised. He very rarely managed to get fieldwork. He didn't look too happy about the prospect of meeting a god, though. "When you find them, contact us here, and we'll send a full battalion of Academics and Scholars to aid you. Good luck", Zargan waved them goodbye, and they departed promptly. -- 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 MagicHutchHeader From: dnichols@engr.latech.edu (Dennis Nichols) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [WTRT] Reality Check Date: Fri, 14 May 1993 14:52:59 GMT Message-ID: As Traveler passes through the Gate he is uneasy about Travelling through his gate to another world, a world he has been to before. A world where he is wanted for murder. A world where his would be wife was left. He and his companions are torn from world to world as an outside disturbance causes the Gate to shift from one place, time, and plane to another. The companions minds and bodies are torn apart for a period of time undeterminable. Traveler mixed emotions about his going to this Oerth cause him to loose part of his mind and part of his consciousness. The part that is left him is more instinct than human reason. When he regains consciousness and sees bodies around him, the only thoughts he has are of death and destruction. He sees a minotaur in battle rage, he sees the bodies of dead goblins laying around, and he sees 2 humans. His heightened senses tell him there is no immediate danger outside the Minotaur in front of him. He rises from the ground and slips into battle mode and pulls the mighty sword from its scabbard and issues a challenge to the Battle enraged Minotaur. Traveler feels the magic that emanates from this world begin to flow through him, it enhances his senses, heightens his awareness, and pushes his abilities far beyond anything he has ever dreamed of.... ---- *** Meanwhile in the realm of the Gods *** A certain Demi-god notices the arrival of a group of humans, and a minotaur. The minotaur he knows to be the minion of another. Two of the humans are as of yet unconscious. One has awakened. Except he has only half of his mental capacities. The Minotaur is tormeneted from a different reality. The human can be played with. He reaches down and touches this one. He knows this one from a previous encounter. This one he intervened for and was rebuked severly for. He fills his minion with power he had never before experienced. --- The Minotaur turns and examines the figure before him. It is a familiar face. It is a face somehow distorted, and tormented. He begins to accept the challenge when everything changes. They are no longer in a field, they are now standing in the arena of the Gods .... --- Two figures sit around a table. One figure dressed in white, the other figure dressed in black. The white figure has a strained look on his face. The black figure is laughing wildly. One the table before them are figures of dead goblins, unconscious humans, a half conscious human, a enraged minotaur, and a shadowy figure hovering over the table. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@lamar.ColoState.EDU (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] Palandun Message-ID: Date: Fri, 14 May 1993 16:01:01 GMT References: "Really?" Palandun asked the stranger, "Would you tell me about it? I didn't know they had giant rats here." "By the way, my name is Palandun." he extended his hand for shaking. ADMIN: arsmith@lamar.colostate.edu is not going to be my adress anymore, I'll be arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu. MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] [Pitzar] Night Moves Date: Fri, 14 May 93 12:29:27 CDT Message-ID: <16BCEAFA7.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu> Keywords: [AU] [Pitzar] Andrea Sheryl unicorn Jake transition ~From: corleyj@GAS.uug.Arizona.EDU (Jason D Corley ) ~Subject: [AU][Pitzar] Night moves... The smoke rose from the chimney of the house, billowing into vague patterns above the wooden roof. Inside, the fire crackled and leapt upwards toward the chimney. The fence wood had been dry and seasoned, and burned well. Jake had sliced chunks of bread, cheese and sausage with a long-handled knife. He skewered them on the end of a poker and held them over the fire. When he bit into it, he grimaced. "Not a bit like home," he said. Sheryl had grazed outside as the sun went down, under Andrea's watchful eye, the setting sun burnishing her brilliant white flanks with shining gold. In the flickering firelight, she appeared to fade in and out, shadows running down her body. Andrea rested her aching bones on the remains of a straw mattress and wearily consumed some of the provisions in her pack. After eating, she appeared much more alert. "Don't know how I got so hungry," she said. The fire burned on. The wood shifted, sending a shower of sparks upward. "Hey," Andrea said. "Do you know where we are, Jake?" Jake was leaning his head back against a wall, staring into the fire. It was reflected in his eyes. He didn't answer for a long time. "Jake! Hey, wake up!" Jake shook his head and turned his face away from the fire for a moment. "Yeah, wha...oh. I think we're pretty much due northeast of where we were before." Andrea was on a blanket near the fire, on her stomach, Sheryl curled up in front of her. She played idly with Sheryl's mane. "Oh, okay." Andrea said. She seemed to be trying to remember something. "So tell me...how did we..." Jake interrupted her. "How did you come to find Sheryl?" he asked. Andrea smiled. "It's a long story, but we've always been together." "I've got time to hear it, or at least I think I do. Always is a long time." Andrea's smile faded a little bit. "Yeah, I guess it is." There was a long pause. Outside, the smoke swirled upwards. Andrea finally said "You really want to know, don't you?" Jake nodded slowly. Andrea grinned maliciously: "Then lets cut a deal. I'll tell you how I know Sheryl, if you'll tell me something." "What?" "How did we get here?" Jake rolled his head back against the wall. "All right, I'll tell you. You brought us here. You panicked and ran. You ran very fast, faster than the people chasing us." "No, I don't buy that, Jake. If it were just running, I'd remember it. I'd remember running. No, it was something else. Tell me." "You really don't remember?" Jake asked. His face was lost in shadow. "No, I don't remember, for the last time, now will you please tell me?" Sheryl snorted in her sleep. "Your arms hurt today, didn't they?" Jake said dully. "Your arms and legs hurt like you had been lifting things, and running a long way. Your back hurt too. But it hurt like you had been carrying something heavy on your back, it didn't hurt like you had lifted something. You were carrying something on your back." "All right, then what was I carrying?" Andrea asked sarcastically. Jake stood up, the sudden motion bringing Sheryl out of her sleep, the small round blue eyes following Jake's walk to the woodpile, putting another log into the fire. "It was me. You were carrying me." "You aren't talking sense, Jake." Andrea said, "I couldn't have carried you all that far." Jake thrust the wood around in the fire, the poker dimly glowing red near the tip, the fire flaring. Sheryl's eyes watched him very carefully. He turned, still on his knees, to look at the pair. Sheryl's head gave an imperceptible nod. Jake looked into Andrea's eyes, clear and blue, with a little white fire dancing merrily in the center. Silhouetted in the light of the fire, Jake was a shadow, a dark figure sitting in red and orange light. "You want the whole truth, fine. Here it is. We started running, there was a shout. The shout panicked both of us, I fell and tripped you up. You stood up again, but you stood up on all fours. You ran faster than the mob because you were running faster than a horse. You carried me because I hung on for dear life. You had turned into a unicorn. Got that? A unicorn. The rednecks said they saw two unicorns because there WERE two unicorns. I followed the tracks of two unicorns but only saw Sheryl, because you were the other unicorn. It wasn't any trick of the light. It was you." Andrea sat silent, stunned. Sheryl nuzzled her hand, but she continued to sit there, staring into the fire. "It's impossible..." she said after a while. Jake gestured to Sheryl. "Ask her," he suggested. "She'll tell you it's true." Sheryl nodded, and nickered. Andrea just stared back at her, and then at him. As Andrea sat lost in thought, Jake added some more wood to the fire and adjusted the damper. He knew that if she wanted to talk about it, she would, so there wasn't any point in adding more words. And then with a WHZZZZT-THUNK! an arrow pinned one corner of his cloak to the side of the fireplace. Swearing, Jake turned to see Andrea snatch up her crossbow and lunge across the floor to the window, standing up against the wall beside it. There was some wild yelling and whooping from outside, and Jake could make out some movement beyond the window, but not much or what it was. "Damn fools we are, staring into the fire like that," he muttered, yanking the arrow out of his cloak and dropping to the floor. He grabbed a nearby rusty pail that was full of water and dashed it onto the fire, putting it out with a loud hiss. Then he crawled across the floor to the opposite side of the window from Andrea, gripped the haft of the knife stuck in his belt, and looked up. "Sheryl!" Andrea hissed, "get under that bed and stay there. Now!" The little 'corn obeyed without any resistance. Jake blinked as his eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness. He peered up over the windowsill...and nearly got an arrow in the face for his trouble. But in the brief glimpse he got before ducking back he had seen several riders carrying torches racing around the house, yelling and carrying on. "Shit," Jake swore. "Brigands." Andrea nodded, jaw clenched. "And they've got torches. This old house will burn like kindling if it's torched." "Tell me something I don't know," Jake rasped. "Any suggestions?" "I assume giving up isn't an option," Andrea joked. Her attempt at humor fell rather flat as Jake ignored it. "Right," she continued. "We can't run...we'd be cut down before we made ten yards. Hmm, maybe we can bluff them." Just then, one of them yelled out, "Come on out of there! We have you surrounded, and we'll just torch the place if you don't show your faces!" Jake opened his mouth to shoot back a suitable insult, but Andrea beat him to it. "You don't know who you're messing with, buster!" she called back. "I'm a powerful wizard, and if you make me mad I can strike you down without even lifting a finger!" Jake looked at Andrea as though she were half-crazy, then a smile began to creep across his face as she reached into a pocket and brought out a handful of small marble-sized globes. "Lady, I don't like the look on your face..." He grinned and put a crack in his voice, yelling "Look out, she's crazy, she'll kill you all!" "Yeah, right!" one of the brigands yelled back. "And I'm the king of Specifica of the Gems!" "All right, we warned you!" Andrea stepped in front of the window, started waving her hands, muttering. Then she hurled the globes outward, covering the throw with a sweeping arm gesture, and ducked back into cover. As the globes hit the ground, they exploded, with bright flashes and loud reports! Andrea and Jake heard shrill, panicked whinnies and loud swearing from without. Andrea chuckled. "That'll teach 'em..." "Boss! Let's get out of here! She's a mage, she can kill us!" "Shut up, you twit. It's a trick!" "But what if it isn't?" another voice said. "What if he's right? Let's go find some caravan to pick on or somethin'." "You lily-livered cow--AUWK! ARRRGLE!" The lead brigand fell from his horse, a crossbow bolt sticking through his neck. Andrea ducked back again, before more arrows could fly. "That's it, I'm getting out of here!" "Me, too--but don't forget Jorkir's purse!" "Oh, yeah, right..." There was a jingle of coins as the brigands looted their former leader's still-warm corpse. Then the sound of hooves as they rode off into the night. Jake and Andrea looked at each other. "Think they're really gone?" Andrea asked. Jake shrugged noncommittally. "We'd better set up watches for tonight," Andrea decided. "I'll take first--" Then Andrea yawned, betraying her exhaustion. Jake shook his head. "No...the condition you're in, you'd nod off after five minutes. Get some shuteye, I'll take the first watch." "But--" "No buts, I slept on the way here." Seeing her expression, he added, "Look, you're gonna have to trust me sooner or later. Might as well be now." Andrea shrugged. "I guess you're right..." She moved over to the fireplace, restarted the fire burning, and then climbed onto the straw mattress. She yawned once more, and was asleep within a few seconds of hitting the bed. Jake walked over, looked at her for a few moments. In the flickering firelight, her face had returned to a kind of child-like innocence. He envied her that. As Sheryl curled up next to the fire once more, Jake picked up a chair and took it over next to the window, ready to begin the first watch. As he sat down, it occurred to him that he never had heard Andrea's tale. "Tomorrow," he decided. The moon was setting, near the horizon, a bloated yellow mass swiveling downwards through the blackness. The wide flat plains were still and quiet, the weeds thick, muffling the noise of the evening birds. From time to time, Jake would turn and look back at the guttering fire, its last feeble glow flickering across the wooden floor, a wide field, stretching back to a sleeping woman and a unicorn, picture-perfect, unreal. -- Chris Meadows || NOTICE: I will be gone for two CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || or three weeks, starting on Fri- CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || day, May 14 and ending in early CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || June. Sorry for any inconvenience. Bye! Seeya June 7th! MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] [Pitzar] Night Moves (Ignore Previous Post!!!) Date: Fri, 14 May 93 12:36:01 CDT Message-ID: <16BCEB131.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu> Keywords: [AU] [Pitzar] Andrea Sheryl Jake transition CORRECTION ADMIN: Jake Pitzar is owned by corleyj@GAS.uug.Arizona.EDU (Jason D. Corley) Andrea and Sheryl are owned by CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET (Chris Meadows) This is a collaborative post written together by both of us. And, as it happens, both of us are going to be away for a while. (Hey, Andrea, you and Sheryl all packed? "Yeah, Chris...we're ready to go...") In fact, you probably won't see either of us again until early June. However, I hope to do a bit of writing while I'm gone, so maybe when I get back you'll see a few posts hit the scene within the first day or so. And maybe I'll be able to do some work on a story called Robotech: The Misfold that I started aeons ago but never finished. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this bit, 'cause it's the last [AU] you'll be seeing for a while. Okay, lights, cameras, ACTION! ---Chris Meadows The smoke rose from the chimney of the house, billowing into vague patterns above the wooden roof. Inside, the fire crackled and leapt upwards toward the chimney. The fence wood had been dry and seasoned, and burned well. Jake had sliced chunks of bread, cheese and sausage with a long-handled knife. He skewered them on the end of a poker and held them over the fire. When he bit into it, he grimaced. "Not a bit like home," he said. Sheryl had grazed outside as the sun went down, under Andrea's watchful eye, the setting sun burnishing her brilliant white flanks with shining gold. In the flickering firelight, she appeared to fade in and out, shadows running down her body. Andrea rested her aching bones on the remains of a straw mattress and wearily consumed some of the provisions in her pack. After eating, she appeared much more alert. "Don't know how I got so hungry," she said. The fire burned on. The wood shifted, sending a shower of sparks upward. "Hey," Andrea said. "Do you know where we are, Jake?" Jake was leaning his head back against a wall, staring into the fire. It was reflected in his eyes. He didn't answer for a long time. "Jake! Hey, wake up!" Jake shook his head and turned his face away from the fire for a moment. "Yeah, wha...oh. I think we're pretty much due northeast of where we were before." Andrea was on a blanket near the fire, on her stomach, Sheryl curled up in front of her. She played idly with Sheryl's mane. "Oh, okay." Andrea said. She seemed to be trying to remember something. "So tell me...how did we..." Jake interrupted her. "How did you come to find Sheryl?" he asked. Andrea smiled. "It's a long story, but we've always been together." "I've got time to hear it, or at least I think I do. Always is a long time." Andrea's smile faded a little bit. "Yeah, I guess it is." There was a long pause. Outside, the smoke swirled upwards. Andrea finally said "You really want to know, don't you?" Jake nodded slowly. Andrea grinned maliciously: "Then lets cut a deal. I'll tell you how I know Sheryl, if you'll tell me something." "What?" "How did we get here?" Jake rolled his head back against the wall. "All right, I'll tell you. You brought us here. You panicked and ran. You ran very fast, faster than the people chasing us." "No, I don't buy that, Jake. If it were just running, I'd remember it. I'd remember running. No, it was something else. Tell me." "You really don't remember?" Jake asked. His face was lost in shadow. "No, I don't remember, for the last time, now will you please tell me?" Sheryl snorted in her sleep. "Your arms hurt today, didn't they?" Jake said dully. "Your arms and legs hurt like you had been lifting things, and running a long way. Your back hurt too. But it hurt like you had been carrying something heavy on your back, it didn't hurt like you had lifted something. You were carrying something on your back." "All right, then what was I carrying?" Andrea asked sarcastically. Jake stood up, the sudden motion bringing Sheryl out of her sleep, the small round blue eyes following Jake's walk to the woodpile, putting another log into the fire. "It was me. You were carrying me." "You aren't talking sense, Jake." Andrea said, "I couldn't have carried you all that far." Jake thrust the wood around in the fire, the poker dimly glowing red near the tip, the fire flaring. Sheryl's eyes watched him very carefully. He turned, still on his knees, to look at the pair. Sheryl's head gave an imperceptible nod. Jake looked into Andrea's eyes, clear and blue, with a little white fire dancing merrily in the center. Silhouetted in the light of the fire, Jake was a shadow, a dark figure sitting in red and orange light. "You want the whole truth, fine. Here it is. We started running, there was a shout. The shout panicked both of us, I fell and tripped you up. You stood up again, but you stood up on all fours. You ran faster than the mob because you were running faster than a horse. You carried me because I hung on for dear life. You had turned into a unicorn. Got that? A unicorn. The rednecks said they saw two unicorns because there WERE two unicorns. I followed the tracks of two unicorns but only saw Sheryl, because you were the other unicorn. It wasn't any trick of the light. It was you." Andrea sat silent, stunned. Sheryl nuzzled her hand, but she continued to sit there, staring into the fire. "It's impossible..." she said after a while. Jake gestured to Sheryl. "Ask her," he suggested. "She'll tell you it's true." Sheryl nodded, and nickered. Andrea just stared back at her, and then at him. As Andrea sat lost in thought, Jake added some more wood to the fire and adjusted the damper. He knew that if she wanted to talk about it, she would, so there wasn't any point in adding more words. And then with a WHZZZZT-THUNK! an arrow pinned one corner of his cloak to the side of the fireplace. Swearing, Jake turned to see Andrea snatch up her crossbow and lunge across the floor to the window, standing up against the wall beside it. There was some wild yelling and whooping from outside, and Jake could make out some movement beyond the window, but not much or what it was. "Damn fools we are, staring into the fire like that," he muttered, yanking the arrow out of his cloak and dropping to the floor. He grabbed a nearby rusty pail that was full of water and dashed it onto the fire, putting it out with a loud hiss. Then he crawled across the floor to the opposite side of the window from Andrea, gripped the haft of the knife stuck in his belt, and looked up. "Sheryl!" Andrea hissed, "get under that bed and stay there. Now!" The little 'corn obeyed without any resistance. Jake blinked as his eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness. He peered up over the windowsill...and nearly got an arrow in the face for his trouble. But in the brief glimpse he got before ducking back he had seen several riders carrying torches racing around the house, yelling and carrying on. "Shit," Jake swore. "Brigands." Andrea nodded, jaw clenched. "And they've got torches. This old house will burn like kindling if it's torched." "Tell me something I don't know," Jake rasped. "Any suggestions?" "I assume giving up isn't an option," Andrea joked. Her attempt at humor fell rather flat as Jake ignored it. "Right," she continued. "We can't run...we'd be cut down before we made ten yards. Hmm, maybe we can bluff them." Just then, one of them yelled out, "Come on out of there! We have you surrounded, and we'll just torch the place if you don't show your faces!" Jake opened his mouth to shoot back a suitable insult, but Andrea beat him to it. "You don't know who you're messing with, buster!" she called back. "I'm a powerful wizard, and if you make me mad I can strike you down without even lifting a finger!" Jake looked at Andrea as though she were half-crazy, then a smile began to creep across his face as she reached into a pocket and brought out a handful of small marble-sized globes. "Lady, I don't like the look on your face..." He grinned and put a crack in his voice, yelling "Look out, she's crazy, she'll kill you all!" "Yeah, right!" one of the brigands yelled back. "And I'm the king of Specifica of the Gems!" "All right, we warned you!" Andrea stepped in front of the window, started waving her hands, muttering. Then she hurled the globes outward, covering the throw with a sweeping arm gesture, and ducked back into cover. As the globes hit the ground, they exploded, with bright flashes and loud reports! Andrea and Jake heard shrill, panicked whinnies and loud swearing from without. Andrea chuckled. "That'll teach 'em..." "Boss! Let's get out of here! She's a mage, she can kill us!" "Shut up, you twit. It's a trick!" "But what if it isn't?" another voice said. "What if he's right? Let's go find some caravan to pick on or somethin'." "You lily-livered cow--AUWK! ARRRGLE!" The lead brigand fell from his horse, a crossbow bolt sticking through his neck. Andrea ducked back again, before more arrows could fly. "That's it, I'm getting out of here!" "Me, too--but don't forget Jorkir's purse!" "Oh, yeah, right..." There was a jingle of coins as the brigands looted their former leader's still-warm corpse. Then the sound of hooves as they rode off into the night. Jake and Andrea looked at each other. "Think they're really gone?" Andrea asked. Jake shrugged noncommittally. "We'd better set up watches for tonight," Andrea decided. "I'll take first--" Then Andrea yawned, betraying her exhaustion. Jake shook his head. "No...the condition you're in, you'd nod off after five minutes. Get some shuteye, I'll take the first watch." "But--" "No buts, I slept on the way here." Seeing her expression, he added, "Look, you're gonna have to trust me sooner or later. Might as well be now." Andrea shrugged. "I guess you're right..." She moved over to the fireplace, restarted the fire burning, and then climbed onto the straw mattress. She yawned once more, and was asleep within a few seconds of hitting the bed. Jake walked over, looked at her for a few moments. In the flickering firelight, her face had returned to a kind of child-like innocence. An unreadable expression flickered across Jake's face, and he turned away. As Sheryl curled up next to the fire once more, Jake picked up a chair and took it over next to the window, ready to begin the first watch. As he sat down, it occurred to him that he never had heard Andrea's tale. But that didn't matter right now. The moon was setting, near the horizon, a bloated yellow mass swiveling downwards through the blackness. The wide flat plains were still and quiet, the weeds thick, muffling the noise of the evening birds. From time to time, Jake would turn and look back at the guttering fire, its last feeble glow flickering across the wooden floor, a wide field, stretching back to a sleeping woman and a unicorn, picture-perfect, unreal. -- Chris Meadows || NOTICE: I will be gone for two CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || or three weeks, starting on Fri- CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || day, May 14 and ending in early CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || June. Sorry for any inconvenience. Seeya June 7th! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [Party] Kadrys & Kardia: Trysts in the Dark Message-ID: <1993May14.163203.7331@data-io.com> Date: Fri, 14 May 1993 16:32:03 GMT [ADMIN] Most of this is posted on behalf of Andrea Evans. And it's always a pleasure to work with her. Just well... wow... Andrea is also, presently, having difficulties getting the newsgroup. If someone could contact me (li@Data-IO.com) about forwarding the articles to her through email, I would be greatly appreciative. My admin's a bit.. uhm... pissed at me about forwarding about 30 articles to Australia through a direct link. Opps. > from Andrea: > I'm sure now it _wont_ be fixed before the end of Monday at > the very latest (it's Friday afternoon now). But, even if they DO decide > to get the group back, I may be missing out on all sorts of cool birthday > stuff in the meantime, sigh. > (Me, someone who was bloodywell in at the start, yet! > grumblemumblemutterandotheroldcurmudgeontypenoises) Liralen ---- "Some things are better left unsaid, but they still turn me inside out..." "Why" - Annie Lennox The party was in full swing by the time Kadrys left Krupp and 'Raelf and ar'Elya, and headed over to meet Kardia and accompany her to the square. The entire population of Generica seemed to throng the streets, united in their common intent to put the recent perils of the storm behind them and have a damn good time. The square was hung with delicate paper lanterns and slow-burning firework candles supplied by the apprentices of the Mage guild. These were particularly striking, shedding glittering cascades of harmless sparks, which vanished just before touching anything. The din of conversation, the shouts of laughter and snatches of song, were noticeably loud, even in the open air of the square. Kardia snagged a drink, offered one to Kadrys, shrugged as he declined with a smile and a shake of the head. Her eyes scanned the periphery of the boisterous crowd, and she suddenly struck off toward the edge of the press of bodies, weaving her way through them without looking round, trusting Kadrys would follow. After the heat and closeness of the crowd, the cool quiet of the darkened laneway was like a breath of freedom. Kardia stretched out her arms as if to savour the space, before turning round. She hadn't heard a sound, and was half- afraid Kadrys had chosen not to trail after her. It was hard to suppress a startle when she saw how near he was: he stood almost within arms' reach, a stark silhouette against the multicoloured light filtering down from the end of the lane. As if sensing her stare, he moved around until he was standing beside her, the glow of the distant festivities outlining his face amid the gloom. He arched an eyebrow at her in silent enquiry. "Uhh, guess I've been out of the hustle and bustle of party life for too long. I just wanted some fresh air away from all that..." she jerked her head toward the faint echoes of merriment. A slight grin lifted the corner of Kadrys' mouth, but otherwise he made no reply. Ironic how their recent roles were reversed. Here she was, talking away, while he just _stood_ there, damn him. Prompted by a mixture of annoyance, a sudden need to stir him out of that calm self-sufficiency, and a confused longing, she closed the distance between them, reaching out hesitantly to touch him, one hand stroking the taut sinews of his arm. She raised the other hand to run her fingers caressingly through the mass of raven strands at his brow. She just had time to see the smile fade from his face, his eyes widen with some unreadable emotion, before the voice spun her around. "How _nice_..." The jester stood at the far end of the alley, the end leading away from the party. He was a short, thin man clad in the traditional multicoloured satin motley, a horned cap-and-bells on his head, garish makeup on his face. Kardia would have expected a high-pitched, almost girlish tenor from such a thin frame. But the voice was nothing like her expectations. It was a heavy bass, as deep as the pit of despair. Ominous as thunder, it rolled between the walls of the alley. It had an undertone rougher than cruelty: a rumble like the fall of nations. All of Kadrys' senses screamed to him that this was no mortal. He _had_ to find out what manner of being it was, and what its exact intentions were. Kadrys turned slowly to face it, his movements suddenly carrying the same terrible deliberation of a hunting cat. "Leave us. Now." he purred. The jester sneered. "What, and miss the floor show? Not fucking likely." The jester turned his eyes to Kardia, and he leered at her like a ghoul. "Oh, don't let _me_ cramp your style, slut. I don't mind watching. Just save some for me after you're through with him. No better still, save it all. You're gonna need more than you got." A bright red tongue snaked out to lick his lips, before stretching over to explore one of his ears. Enough. Moving so that Kardia was behind him and unable to see his face, Kadrys faced the creature. The pupils of Kadrys' eyes suddenly gaped like hungry jaws. Blood-red radiance poured toward the thing in motley as Kadrys reached out to take its mind and will under his control, order it to begone. The thing looked into Kadrys' blazing eyes. And laughed. Silently, Kadrys snarled, abandoning the gaze, his muscles tensing in readiness, his hands clenching into fists. And the thing before him _changed_. It stretched and warped grotesquely, immense gnarled muscles bursting through its costume until only rags of satin remained. Its bestial head reared high into the night, horns ripping apart the cap-and-bells, cruelly-edged talons shredding the gloves and boots, gouging the cobbles as if they were soft clay. Kardia stared at this apparition with her other sight. She gasped because it glowed malevolence and all of it shone with power. "Oh, Lord." she said softly and felt Kadrys flinch. She thought it was because her grip had tightened on him, so she let go of his arm. "It's magical, Kadrys. It's not just doing magic, it's *made* of magic." She heard herself laugh half hysterically, "I've never seen anything with that kind of hate..." Kadrys backed away, taking Kardia's arm and turning her away from the monstrosity, trying to shift her anguished stare, break her hysterical fixation on its evil presence. The malice was pouring from the thing now in waves, and he could hear its mocking laughter, as it watched and relished its effect, the way Kardia's knees were slowly giving way under the pressure of its emanations. Kadrys cursed. At the moment, she could hardly stand, let alone run. He would _have_ to hold that thing off, give her a chance to get away. She felt his hand tugging her backwards. Kardia obeyed the tug, knowing that she should be retreating, should be running, but the fear was crushing her down. Then she saw Kadrys as he stepped in front of her. Kardia took two steps back and then two to the side and ran into a wall that she leaned blindly against. She could hear Kadrys' voice telling her something, she couldn't make out what it was with the blood pounding in her ears. She saw his eyes as he turned to look at her, and beheld blackness that pooled there, deep and bewilderingly complex. He turned away. The forces that poured through Kadrys were a reflection of the forces she saw in the huge creature that he ran to confront, and he was running with a speed she'd only ever seen in Alistair. Kadrys' body was afire with power, negative lightning that sank into every particle of his being. That blackness rippled and arced sickeningly, holding Kadrys enmeshed in a web that followed his every movement. Unlike the creature before Kadrys, though, there was the clear, bright form of a being amid the snare of blackness. The brightness was trapped in a barbed net that writhed and twisted, endlessly striving to crush and subdue that blaze within. "Oh, Kadrys." she moaned softly. "What *are* you?" The being that bulked over Kadrys' slenderness flashed and turned, horns and fire, blackness deeper than the night. It blurred, quick as a fish shining in the moonlight and struck. Kardia saw the snap of Kadrys' head as he was hit. He made no sound. She saw the arch of his body as he struck from his legs. The creature was not so quiet. It crunched when he hit and then it screamed, a bellowing roar that rattled windows. Kadrys didn't even pause at the noise. Kardia saw him raining blows so fast that his whole body was just a blur. The thing swiped out with lethal curved claws and she heard them hiss through the air as Kadrys leaped back. He faltered a moment, both hands clutching his stomach. The creature charged him. Kardia saw a dispersal of power like a mist exploding, and then Kadrys was behind the thing and striking. The thudding impact of his lightning blows merging into a single sound, an uneven thrum. The demon turned its back on Kardia and she saw the flash of its claws as it raised them and then she heard a crack like that of a slaver's whip being applied again and again. Kardia ran forward, never knowing exactly what she was going to do, until the shawl around her shoulders was thrown on the back of the creature. The body under her hands jerked upright, screaming, and Kardia found herself screaming with it even as she did her best to destroy it. The shawl glowed with the power it pulled away indiscriminately. Kardia felt it flooding through her, turbulent and scraping against her sense of what her makings did. She pushed with her hands, trying to get the shawl to cover as much of the creature as she could, and she could feel bulk collapsing under her touch. Then she reached pavement, the shawl caught against the roughness of the cobblestones and she found herself sobbing, on her knees. Bright shreds of satin gleamed through the translucense of the shawl beneath her. A light touch on her shoulder and a soft, ironic voice said, "I'm glad I wasn't under there." She looked up into Kadrys' dark eyes. He was all right. She felt a terrible tenion in her snap. She swallowed, grinned a trembling grin up at him that she knew showed her teeth too much. She couldn't help it. Acid and metal on her tongue from the adrenaline that still shook her system. She sat back on her haunches, still gasping for air. His hand left her shoulder. "No, please..." She reached out blindly with her hand and then felt his hand take hers. He wasn't trembling as she was and she felt oddly comforted by that fact. She pulled on his hand for help up and ended up in his arms where she cried until she coughed. She held him close and felt him gently stroking her hair. Kardia buried her face in the hollow of his throat and just stood there with him, trembling. When she could finally trust her voice and breath to speak she waited another moment and her voice still broke when she said, "I'm glad... I'm glad you weren't under there, too." She laughed a laugh that was still a touch high, and then took a deep, shaking breath. "With as much magic running through you, I wouldn't be surprised if I wouldn't have done the same as I did to... that..." "Demon. An evil spirit, lusting for the evils of the flesh. It's unimportant. You defeated it. Yes, you did. It's gone, and it won't be back. Ssshhh now..." he murmured soothingly, his head bent over hers, nuzzling at her hair that flickered with fitful glints of deep brownish red under the moon. The exact red of long-dried blood. Blood. Ahhh, how the hot scent of her rose to his senses.. But he ignored the sobbing of his veins with the cold thoroughness of long ages of control, shut his body's need out of his mind. He moved to step away from her, but it was too late. As he moved, her hands slipped down from his shoulders. Her fingers trailed down his sides, and brushed against rough edges. To her, coming from a world where meat was all but unknown, it was an unfamiliar sensation: ragged damp edges, yielding to her touch. The uneven, fibrous softness of torn flesh. Kardia gasped at the feeling. Her hands tore at the slashes in his shirt. He tensed as if to move away, then sighed and stood quietly as she exposed a torso almost divided by great slashes. The tracks of the demon's gouging claws gaped wide but strangely bloodless. She sobbed and then swallowed hard at seeing the pale shadow of organs, the white of bone, the ripped edges of muscle and rags of skin. Kardia looked at the still face watching her and then down again. Her grey eyes narrowed as the mangled flesh writhed in the moonlight. The jagged edges of the wounds rippled and drew closer, moving with eerie purpose, sealing themselves. Within heartbeats the gashes faded to scars, the scars faded to smooth and unbroken skin. She ran the tips of her fingers against his skin and felt only smooth, hard muscle. The mortal wounds were gone without trace, like a nightmare upon waking. Kardia stared at him. Her features were vivid with the force of her conflicting emotions: her eyes glittering with unshed tears, feverish colour flaming in her cheeks. By contrast, Kadrys' expression was quiet, resigned, his eyes soft with simple, human sadness. Looking at the two of them, you would have thought it was Kardia who had just received a deathblow, Kadrys who was mourning. -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kring@efes.physik.uni-kl.de (Thomas Kettenring) Subject: Re: [NTY] Palandun Message-ID: <1993May15.025722.26287@rhrk.uni-kl.de> References: Date: Sat, 15 May 1993 02:57:22 GMT In article , arsmith@lamar.ColoState.EDU (Alan Smith) writes: >"Really?" Palandun asked the stranger, "Would you tell me about it? I didn't >know they had giant rats here." > >"By the way, my name is Palandun." he extended his hand for shaking. "Bakr ibn Ja'far ibn Musa al Mekneshi." Bakr grabbed said body part and moved it around for a while, then greeted the other two. "May I sit here?" [if yes:] The fat mage casually glanced around the room to look if any of his Rat Quest companions were here (which seemed to be not the case), occupied a chair and started talking. "My three companions and I were looking for a rat that was said to weigh two hundred pounds, and after a day or so of fighting an evil wizard and hordes of Tunnel Crocodiles, we finally found it. It attacked me in the dark - I could only see its red eyes gleaming - and I had to fight it alone for a while, as the others hesitated, maybe they were reluctant to join into the fray. The beast sat on me and just barely did not bite me... I don't think I could have killed it alone, but luckily it was... sort of... distracted when the wizard we had defeated earlier came back. Then it got a bit complicated - the sewer was flooded, which made it more difficult to fight the rat and the wizard. I was in a really bad condition afterwards, but the rat was much worse off..." He smiled. "I don't know if there are more of the giant ones down there, but surely most of them are not *that* big. Why are you interested in rats, of all things?" >ADMIN: arsmith@lamar.colostate.edu is not going to be my adress anymore, I'll >be arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu. ADMIN: Noted and changed in the Character Summaries List. -- Bakr ibn Ja'far ibn Musa al Mekneshi, apprentice mage aka Thomas Kettenring MagicHutchHeader From: scott@athena.mit.edu (Scott D Bradburn) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: The return of Firgun. Date: 15 May 1993 18:18:20 GMT Message-ID: <1t3c5cINNqrk@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> Firgun was in heaven. The dungeons under Glorshanned Keep were nearly bursting with rare and magical fungus. The prisoners even acted like they cared what Firgun was saying. "Wow. That's quite impressive. How much would you charge me for your teeth?" asked Firgun. "You can't have my teeth! They're mine. I'm rather attached to them," cried a rather nervous inmate. "The attachment can be remedied. I'll pay you a fair market value. The grey swamp lichen that is growing on your teeth is the finest I have ever seen. I absolutely must have some of that, and it'll be damaged if I scrape it off your teeth." "Look, I need my teeth to eat the tough bread they serve down here. Without it, I'll starve." "Tough bread? Why don't you eat elsewhere? The Dragon's Inn has very good bread, at reasonable prices." "I'm locked in here you idiot! Just leave me alone. You can't have my teeth!" Firgun sighed and left the cell. A raspy voice called out from a nearby door, "Little gnome, I know where some very fine Hulkhoganus Gigantae can be found." "Really?" asked Firgun, looking happier already. "Where?" "I must show you. Just open the cell, and I'll lead you there." "Oh, okay. What's this sign mean, 'Do Not Open Until Doomsday.'" "What? No, that says, 'Do Not Open Until Dunesday.' That's an archaic naming of the weekdays. It means the fourth day of the week. Since today is the fifth day of the week, it's after Dunesday." "Okay. One moment and I'll have you out of there," said Firgun. From a pouch hidden deep inside his cloak Firgun extracted an very well- kept set of lockpicks. A few seconds later the locked clicked, and Firgun opened the heavy door. A middle-aged man stepped out. "Thanks for releasing me you fool! It's time for me to exact my revenge on the men who imprisoned me here." "Fine, just lead me to the Gigantae mushrooms and then go do whatever you want." "What? No, there are no Gigantae mushrooms. And I guess I'll have to kill you so you don't warn my enemies. Nothing personal," said the man as he lunged to strangle Firgun. His hands closed on empty air as Firgun took a sudden step backwards at the last second. "Er... no mushrooms? That wasn't nice of you. I'm really tired of people telling me, 'I have some of this, ha ha, I was lying, now you die' again and again. It's getting to the point I can't trust anyone anymore," said Firgun as he dodged several more lunges at his throat. "Stand still you slimy kobold! You're just making this harder on yourself." "Kobold!" cried Firgun, coming to a stop. "I am not a Kobold, and I wouldn't be slimy except I've spent my past two weeks in a sewer. Furthermore--" Firgun was cut off when the prisoner finally managed to latch on to his throat and began squeezing. He didn't stop trying to talk, but the sound stopped coming out. "Gotcha! I don't even think anyone will miss your running mouth." While dodging the prisoner, Firgun had managed to grab a pouch from his cloak, which he now held out near the man who was strangling him. "What's this? Money? You can't buy your life, I'll take both. In fact, Ah-Choooooo!" In the middle of his diatribe, the villain sneezed rather violently causing a large puff of powder from the pouch Firgun was holding in his face. As the powder fell over Firgun and his enemy they both disappeared from sight, and Firgun managed to struggle free. "What, ah-choo! was that stuff?" cried the now invisible villain. "ah-choo! It's sneezing, ah-choo, powder of disappearance. Ah-choo! Great stuff isn't it?" "Where are you, ah-choo! dammit? Let me see, ah-choo, you, so I can kill you." "How about some other time, I'm out of here," said Firgun in between sneezes. "No you don't. I can follow your sneezes." Down the twisted corridors, two sets of footsteps could be heard, one made by a small, lightweight sneezing creature, followed by a large, heavy, sneezing being. The chase continued up several flights of stairs until a door burst open on the ground floor, and one of the guards heard a sneeze. "Who's there?" he said. No answer, but another sneeze is heard across the room. "Hey!" shouted the guard to several companions nearby. "There's an invisible man in here sneezing." Normally they wouldn't have believed him, but they had heard the sneezing come from nowhere, too. "He must have escaped from the dungeouns," said another. "Get him before he gets out of here." "He's around here somewhere," said one. "I just heard him." Another sneeze. "No! He's over h-- He's choking me! Get him off!" said the guard, as his voice suddenly took on the distinct tone of someone being strangled. Two guards rushed to his aid, found the invisible figure, and pulled him off their comrade. "Gotcha," said one guard. The figure was pulled off and secured him in a cell. "We'll find out who you are, as soon as that spell wears off. When we do, it'll probably be a death sentance for attempting to kill a guard. You should have just left when you had the chance." The only response was a growl followed by a loud sneeze. Meanwhile, Firgun returned to the Dragon's Inn. By the time he arrived, both the sneezing and the invisibility had ended. "Hello, everyone. Did you miss me?" he asked. No one seemed to notice him. Firgun looked around, and noticed Bakr talking to someone, and walked over to him. "Hello, Braker. Nice to see you again. Mind if I join you two?" MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kring@efes.physik.uni-kl.de (Thomas Kettenring) Subject: [NTY] Re: The return of Firgun. Message-ID: <1993May15.230511.22030@rhrk.uni-kl.de> References: <1t3c5cINNqrk@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> Date: Sat, 15 May 1993 23:05:11 GMT ADMIN: Bakr's timeline gets more and more garbled. I guess I'm too quick now. Let's assume B. knows the names of Ja'nis and Jorma... he can learn them in a later posting set earlier. > The fat mage casually glanced around the room to look if any of his Rat >Quest companions were here (which seemed to be not the case), occupied a chair >and started talking. [bending the truth omitted] > He smiled. "I don't know if there are more of the giant ones down there, >but surely most of them are not *that* big. Why are you interested in rats, >of all things?" > Meanwhile, Firgun returned to the Dragon's Inn. By the time he arrived, >both the sneezing and the invisibility had ended. "Hello, everyone. Did you miss >me?" he asked. No one seemed to notice him. Firgun looked around, and noticed >Bakr talking to someone, and walked over to him. "Hello, Braker. Nice to see you >again. Mind if I join you two?" Coming closer, he noticed there were two others at the table whom he hadn't seen before - gnomes don't always have that magnificent a survey. Bakr had gone a bit gray and stopped in his tracks, if one could speak of tracks of a sitting man. His face had the expression of an antelope who has carefully inspected the waterhole for predators and, after declaring the place safe, finds itself bitten in the neck by a small poodle that has sneaked up on it. "H-. Hello Firgun. This is Palandun, Ja'nis, Jorma." Bakr moved his flat hand around pointing to a military-looking man, a woman, and a boy. "Folks - this is Firgun, a friend of mine. His field is fungi." He hoped for a subject change and vowed silently to tell a story as soon as this was over, and stay close to the truth this time. "Rowan - could I have a goat milk?" -- Bakr ibn Ja'far ibn Musa al Mekneshi, apprentice mage aka Thomas Kettenring MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: Re: [BDAY] Dancing with the Dark Message-ID: References: <1sst6u$huu@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> <1sstqk$huu@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> <93133.124902BANNON@MAINE.MAINE.EDU> <1993May11.183653.22731@midway.uchicago.edu> Date: Sun, 16 May 1993 06:20:48 GMT [ADMIN] All characters appearing in this posting are by prior arrangement with their owners, although some details of conversation may be changed in minor ways. 000----000 The party continued. Drinks were drunk. People danced, sometimes with each other, sometime just because it felt so good just to dance. Over in one corner, a drunk ghost, and an equally drunk mage talked about past lives. The ghost giggled, "Okay, lemme get thish straight. There's a group of people on this other world who just exershise for a living." 'Raelf head bobbed. "Yup, then they kind of flex around in tiny swimsuits, to see who's the most bufft." "Buff?" asked Krupp. "Umm, who has the best body." "Oh, so it's a beauty contest for guys. Who pays them to do it, or is it another fad for rich folks?" "Oh, most of them have real jobs-" "'Raelf," interrupted Krupp. "Yo?" "Am I supposed to have hallucinations with this Tear stuff?" "Nah, mild color shifts, maybe. Why, what do you see?" "There's a bigass demon talking to kadrys and that weaver woman." 'Raelf twisted around to take a gander at the scene. "And her foot's funny looking," continued Krupp, blithely. "Pastafazoo," muttered 'Raelf. "What?" "It is a demon." "Oh," said Krupp. He looked off into space. "A DEMON?" he shouted. "Yeah, they always did have lousy timing. Ray, did you happen to bring a registatum temporalis with you?" "Oh, yeah, I always carry that kind of thing in this body." The redhaired giant scowled, and fished in a pocket, then pulled out a flask and tossed it across the table. 'Raelf snatched it from midair and emptied it onto the table. The thick silvery fluid inside ran like quicksilver onto the table, forming a glowing circle with little letters written all over it. <> The liquid rippled, then little silver spikes started rippling up. They met in the air, and began forming intricate spiderweb-like patterns. "Very pretty," interjected Krupp. "What's it doing?" "It's a 3-D projection of a 5-D trace of this moment in history." "Of course, I should known." Krupp shook his head. The demon fighting Kadrys had vanished under Kardia's cloak, and Kardia was looking at Kadrys Curse and wigging out. ar'Elya put a hand on the table and loomed over 'Raelf's shoulder. "It's happening now, isn't it?" 'Raelf nodded. "Yup." He muttered to himself. "Hmm, it's a very balanced equation." <> The metal spiderweb started to sag and melt. "Whoa!" <> "Well, that's it then." <> The quicksilver spiderweb reverted to a pool of liquid that flowed backwards up into the flask. "Littlefair, another Catamount?" Krupp looked up expectantly. "So...." "Oh, it's the demon invasion." "And you're just sitting there?" demanded Krupp. "He can't get involved," said ar'Elya. "Me either." "Why not? He went into the Shunned Center with Kron." "It's a totally different thing," said 'Raelf. "That web, it was a probabilty sorter. There's a lot of hot and heavy magic that's going to fly at that Keep. If I go to help out, I'll screw it up." "But can't you not screw it up?" "No, it's not that I'd do the wrong thing. If I went in, and did the right thing, it would still screw things up." He took a pull on his mug. "No matter what I did, if I went in, things would go from bad to worse. Not only that, but I'm looped seventeen ways to Sunday. If I do much more, Paradox is going to take a big chunk out of my butt." "But what about the demons?" "Them? HA! They're not a threat. They're tempters, nothing more." "In Common...." "They're monkey-paw creations. They'll offer you your heart's desire. But with all Nephilim, there's the catch. Maybe it'll make an old woman young and beautiful, but she'll be blind, so she can't see it." "Uh-huh." "They're attracted to the seed of corruption in someone. If you've got the sense to say no, it's not a problem, and if you say yes, they mess with you, but you can still repent, and they have to go away." "I thought once a demon got its teeth in, you were stuck." "Nah. That got changed a while back. At least, for this kind." "Wow. 'Scuse me, 'Raelf," ar'Elya muttered, "One of them's messing with my hostel. I gotta squish it." He drew a big black glowing sword from across his back and vanished. "Hey," Krupp complained, "You just said you can't get involved." "Oh, but we CAN defend ourselves," 'Raelf grinned. "Just can't go out looking for trouble." __Pardon me, Mr Krupp,__ came a voice from beside the halfling, causing him to jump slightly. __Would you be interested in returning to a real live body?__ Krupp stared. The goober talking to him was about half his height, looked like it had been a troll once but got squished under a big rock or something, without quite crushing it. It was giving off a real vile aura, too, but it was also putting out a real meal of fresh greed. Krupp began to feel kind of full, and it began to get edgy. "Hell, no," he finally said. "And I wouldn't take it from you if I did. Go away." __I can give you very attractive terms on the identities and locations of a certain group of murderers__ "Not. In. Ter. Est. Ed." Krupp growled, grabbing the thing by the wrinkly thick skin of its neck. He gave it the full high-wattage glare, and it made a meeping noise and vanished in a cloud of greasy orange smoke, leaving a bad smell behind. About then ar'Elya reappeared, a satisfied sort of grin on the broad barbarian face. The big black sword was chuckling and ichor was evaporating off the edges of the blade. "Got 'em. That'll teach 'em." "What happened?" Krupp asked, curious. "Oh, bunch of them demons got into the Rameshander slavers that hang out near the bazaar. Bastards been making that neighborhood a real hell for women and kids, snatching anyone they think they can get away with. Fools let the demons promise them invulnerability to priestly magic, so they could ignore the old Sister, then they came in and tried to set fire to the hostel, carry off the women and kids. Well, they forgot that swords aren't priestly magic, and then they found out they were invulnerable to their own priests' healing spells." He grinned, and grabbed a mug of Catamount Amber, and drained it. A rush of wind passed over the group as a great silver-grey shape batwinged over the Plaza, then circled back and landed next to the bale of straw in the street. "'RAELF! HEY, WHERE'S LANCOS AND KADRYS?" A booming voice echoed down from astride the shoulders of the Silver Dragon. "SunStorm? Hey, welcome back, dude, how ya feelin'?" "YOUR SPEECH HAS IMPROVED, FRIEND." "Yours is still loud. Moderate, please." "SORRY. TESting One Two Three, Hmm ,mmmm Is this better?" "Much. Hey, Kadrys is over there somewhere, Lancos I have not seen for a few days but he's in town somewhere." "Oh. How about Valgar?" The giant swung down from the dragon's shoulder and landed lightly on the ground - or at least, it looked light. "He's around, but I haven't seen much of him. I think he got a job at the Library or something, when we got back." "I sort of remember something real, well, strange going on. Like I was two people." "You talk to ShockWave about that?" "Yes, but he had this crazy story about a pyroclastic diamond and sharing my body and some babe named Alita." "'S'all true, dude." "Faugh. Next you'll be telling me that the business about TrueSilver betraying us was true." "Only sort of. He was controlled, man. No volition." "Oh. He told me some kind of story but I didn't want to believe him either. Last I remember was having too much to drink that night we were about to leave on the dragon search, and then I had these really strange dreams, then I woke up on a hill outside of town with TrueSilver and ShockWave stuck into the ground and complaining about rust." 'Raelf laughed. "The day that sword rusts is the day Rowan Littlefair starts a fight in his own bar." "I'll have you know I was very uncomfortable," the sword retorted from the sheath on the giant's back. "So it was all true," the giant sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Right." 'Raelf reached behind him for his drink, and found his hand brushing ar'Elya's face. "Oh, hey, I almost forgot. Ray, this is SunStorm and the sharp fellow on his back is ShockWave, and the big toothy guy is TrueSilver. Though I never really met HIM. SunStorm, this is my lifemate, ar'Elya." "Oh?" The giant looked confused for a moment, then the sword interrupted, "SunStorm, look, a shapeshifter, imagine that!" "Pleasedameetcha" the barbarian said, shaking the giant's hand. He looked up and laughed. "Not too many people I have to look up to look 'em in the eye." SunStorm met the barbarian's gaze, then saw something inside them, the Paladin who overcame Impossible odds. He blushed in the torchlight, and laughed a little unsteadily. "Well, I was just coming to say goodbye, and thank you for your help in finding TrueSilver. ShockWave says he already paid you, and I guess it wasn't a dream, so that's even. I have to continue my search for something that can defeat the Demon Mother." "Huh," 'Raelf muttered, "I thought we fixed her when the PCD blew." "She came back," ShockWave said, "I was dedicated to defeating her when I was created so her return woke me, and I woke these other two." "So are you all recovered?" 'Raelf asked, looking at the Dragon. "Oh, they're fine, really," the sword replied, interrupting the dragon before he could speak. 'Raelf looked annoyed but didn't get a chance to interrupt, as another fight broke out near the edge of the dancing. "Hey!" The DiamondSword shouted, "HEY! There's a demon over there!" SunStorm groaned. "Where?" "Over there on the Plaza, talking to that old woman!" The giant looked in the , and after a few moments said "Hey, you're right, shall we go get some practice?" "Oh, no, let's just sit around and watch it," the Sword said sarcastically, as they ran down the street, shouting: "HEY!! YOU! THE DEMON! COME BACK HERE AND FIGHT!!" The dragon jumped into the air and followed them as they went roaring down Dragon Lane. "What the hell was that?" Krupp demanded. "That was ShockWave the DiamondSword and his Paladin and their Silver Dragon. Loud, ain't they?" Krupp snorted. MagicHutchHeader From: scott@athena.mit.edu (Scott D Bradburn) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [NTY] Re: The return of Firgun. Date: 16 May 1993 15:59:13 GMT Message-ID: <1t5ochINNpu7@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> References: <1t3c5cINNqrk@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> <1993May15.230511.22030@rhrk.uni-kl.de> Firgun nodded at each person as they were introduced, then said, "Well, fungus isn't really my field, I'm an alchemist, but so many fungi are used as ingredients that fungus has become a hobby." Then he looked back at Bakr. "Backer, you should have stayed around the dungeon. The fungi and molds down there were incredible, if only I could have convinced a few more inmates to part with theirs. Speaking of fungus, you look nearly as tense as you did when that rat was sitting on you. Would you care for a free potion of relaxation?" -- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: clayton@austin.ibm.com (Clay Colwell) Subject: [ex-TW] Eski wakes up? Message-ID: Date: Sun, 16 May 1993 18:38:07 GMT Once again, Eski shook his head. The buzzing in his ears shrank to a minor whine as he held his head in his hands, elbows leaning on the table before him. "What happened? Ixnaphior? Moria? Amachiak?" He looked around the Dragon's Inn, then incredulously at the table before him. He was standing on his stool, as he remembered, but no one else was there. No tall, rangy fighter. No cool, soft-spoken mage. No Amachiak, no Chikcha. No parchments laid out before him... With a yelp, Eski snatched the pouch from about his neck, swiftly opened it up, and nearly dived in as he searched within it. His arms waved as they made broad passes, clunks and clatter coming from within the pouch. "Whew! *Here* are the blueprints! And that time-space regulator restraining reed, and...but what happened then? Where did every- body go? Granite?" The bird just cocked its head, blinked one eye slowly in Eski's direction, and went back to nibbling on a small piece of melon rind that had been discarded on the table. Eski again shook his head. "This is a strange place, Granite. Well, let's find out what's going on," he said as the sounds of music and laughter, coming from outside the Inn, finally regist- ered in his ears. He leapt down from the stool and walked a few feet to an adjoining table, where he tapped a dwarf, his beard in his ale, on the shoulder with his dragon-clawed staff. "Excuse me, please; could you tell me what's going on outside?" The dwarf looked up blearily and squinted down at Eski. "Whah? You don' *know* whash goin on? 'Tis Regine -- Gingera -- Ginerika Day! Ish a big party or sum'tin. Why doncha go OUT- SIDE 'n fine owt?" The dwarf mumbled some more and stuck his beard back in his ale. "A party! Marvelous! Let's go outside, shall we, Granite?" The bird burbled a complaint, but hopped up on Eski's shoulder. The two of them walked out into the street. The sky above Generica was bright and spark-filled, as large displays of pyrotechnics arced up into the deep blue. Sprays of multi-colored smokes and shimmering lights danced in the expanse, their light gleaming and reflecting off of goblets and ornamental masks as merrymakers walked, jigged, and cavorted in the avenue. Eski looked around and saw a clump of people gathered about a street mage raising iridescent flowers from the cobblestones. "Another illusionist, my friend!" Eski exclaimed to Granite. "Maybe we can get some pointers!" Eski started off toward the display. Before he had a chance to get 50 feet, though, he was bumped into by a careening clown, dressed in motley and greasepaint. His face had been painted in the visage of a grinning kobold, with sharp false teeth and an mask of an elongated doglike muzzle strapped on. "Oh, pardon me, sir! This is *such* a festival, don't you think? But I see no drink in your hand! Here, enjoy some of my wine!" A skin of liquor was pressed into Eski's hand. He sniffed curiously at it, then took a sip, then two more. "You like it? Good! Feel free to enjoy the rest of it. I've plenty more!" The clown skipped and frolicked as Eski took more sips from the skin. The liquor slipped down his throat easily, collecting in his stomach like a pool of liquid fire, discomforting, yet exhilirating. An odd gleam came into the clown's eye as he looked Eski up and down. "Why, what a fashion statement we're making here! But you could do so much better than *copper* to limn your clothing!" "But I *like* copper," said Eski, his tongue feeling a little thick in his mouth. "Copper is *wonderful*! Did you know that I once lived in a place where copper was more valuable than *platinum*?" Eski waved his arms in emphasis, and stumbled a bit as the wave went a little too wide. The gleam in the clown's eye turned a reddish hue. "So you *like* copper, eh?" His voice shifted from gay to wheedling. "Perhaps I could arrange for you to get some *more* copper: heaps and heaps of it. Would you accept that?" Eski's eyes grew bright. He started to say "Yes", but doubled over in pain before it reached his mouth. His stomach heaved, and the liquor from the clown spewed forth on the stones before him. At the same time, a voice rang in his head, "Stop! Don't believe it! It's a trick! Take me out, that I might smite it!" Eski stumbled and fell, his stomach twisted, his senses dizzy. The clown's visage shifted again, from grinning to predatory. "Why, what's the matter, small gnome? Are we ill? Are we feeling poorly? Let me help you." The clown stretched forth a hand, a gnarled, scabrous hand, to grab Eski's shoulder. The voice still rang in Eski's ears: "TAKE ME OUT, for the love of all that's good!" Eski's hand shook as he pushed weakly away at the clown's hand. He felt about in his robe with the other, finding the slit and reaching down to his ornamental greaves, grasping and edging out his short sword, the source of the voice. As the blade came free, the pain in Eski's stomach vanished, and he felt strength enter his frame. The clown began to back away, the paint and mask smearing across his face, the reddish gleam in his eyes becoming a pair of bloody red pools. "Use me!" cried the sword. "Strike down the demon!" "Demon?" cried Eski. "It can't be! Demons wander this city?" "Don't argue!" yelled the sword in his ears. "Strike!" Eski started toward the clown, blade ready, as the paint and costume of the clown deliquesced and melted into its body, now exposed as a loathsome, warty mass. "Not so fast, my perceptive gnome!" it hissed. "Let me show you what you *truly* face. Then may you SURRENDER!" The demon rose and grew, wings sprouting from its back, its teeth elongating, an enormous reptilian tail slithering out and swaying. Eski backed away, held by fear. Granite squawked and complained, but hid itself in Eski's hood. The demon continued to grow and shift until it filled half the broad avenue, its wings stretched across the divide, its form that of a mottled grey dragon, disease-pocked and slimy, its teeth sharp and dripping with venom. Eski backed to the far side of the avenue and huddled against a wall, frozen in his fear. -- 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. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hibschmn@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Johann Allen Hibschman) Subject: [JOI] A meeting of evils in a dark wood Message-ID: <1993May16.232231.11735@Princeton.EDU> Date: Sun, 16 May 1993 23:22:31 GMT Quaeros looked on disapprovingly as Laurenth nullified the toxins in Elanon's body, but he couldn`t bring himself to interfere. At least the stone she'd used had shattered in the process; there was some loss to compensate the healing. Elanon was weak, however, and his body could not permit much travel. Hopefully, none of the demons had revealed their position to their masters, for the company was forced to wait until Elanon had recovered; he was the only one who truly knew where they were going. Quaeros spent the whole day in contemplation and prayer. Occasionally he felt Aleric staring at him, but he ignored it. Aleric still had not forgiven him for refusing to combat the poison as it coursed through Elanon's body; Quaeros was glad he hadn't tried to speed the poison, giving Elanon a quick death. Aleric would never have understood. So now Elanon sat and suffered from the damage the poison had already wrought while the others bustled about keeping watch, tending Elanon, scouting the terrain. None of it truly mattered. There was too much else to think of. Night came quickly, and with night came the dreams. Quaeros caught a glimpse of a flat, featureless grey plain and was filled with a sense of mingled forboding and anticipation. He was waiting for something, waiting for something as eagerly as he'd ever anticipated anything before. Then a doorway appeared directly in front of him, a fine doorframe crafted of some dark, glossy wood. The door opened onto nothing, its wooden beams framing a rectangle of pale blue emptiness which defied the eye, refusing to come into focus. A faint wind rose, blowing into the doorway. Then the wind began to increase, blowing harder and harder until finally he was caught in the rush and pulled through the door. He awoke with a start. Something had happened; he did not know what, but it was there. It was as if a gong had rung somewhere deep in the essence of his being announcing the end of the world. The campsite around him was still and silent. It was Kyar's watch, and Quaeros could barely make out his form sitting off to the edge of the clearing. It was then that the calling came, the need to leave this place, to go into the darkness of the surrounding forest. They must not know he was leaving, something deep in his mind whispered. This was private; they would not understand. Quaeros made the required gestures and felt a cloak of silence settle across his shoulders. He arose and walked away from the camp, sticks snapping silently under his tread. /Into the forest, it it time, come, this way/ whispered the voice in his soul, and he followed. He knew the way, and the moonlight made travel easy. It was not long before he came upon the clearing where the other waited for him. In the light, a figure stood, tall and noble, but this was not the source of the call. Another figure stood in the shadows of the trees beyond, large and winged, and this was the being to whom Quaeros was drawn. He turned to walk across the clearing. "Stop," commanded the being in the clearing, moving to stand in front of Quaeros. "Hold your ground." Quaeros blinked and shook his head as he recognized the voice which had spoken to his mind over the course of his journey. "You. Why must you always torment me?" "All I've done was tell you some of the truths about yourself. You still don't belong with those buffoons you travel with." "No! You've done nothing but lie to me all along. You finally gave yourself away when you tried to make me doubt my lord Ronkel. I know better, I know my faith is strong. I don't know why you tried to fool me with your pseudo-religious arguments, but you demons are true deceivers and pride yourselves in your lies. Now get out of my way and let me pass!" "I would not lie to you, my friend. All that I have told you is true, except for my questioning of your faith, which was for your own good. Admit that the prayer and contemplation you have gone through have restored you to your god's favor. The healing of those sailors would have festered in your mind; you would have grown farther and farther away from your god as doubt slowly grew upon your mind. I forced you to examine your act and renew your faith. It was all for your own good." "Yes, but..." "Hear me out! A temporary rift has formed from my world into yours. Or rather, between your two worlds. You felt the connection, now you feel the call in your heart, for I have brought the other half of your very soul and being to you through the gate. You want to go to him, do you not? You want to go to yourself. It must have been truly painful, passing through life as only half a complete person. It was, I know it. I watched your counterpart stumble through the Abyss, unlike all the others there. I took care of him, took care of you, almost as if he were my very son, as you almost are. Go now, go to him. I release you, but beware, for I know not what shall happen when you meet. The time has come for the final trial of my handiwork." And he stepped back, giving Quaeros free passage, and gestured briefly. Drachnes stirred as the magical bindings fell away from his body. He stretched his wings and gazed into the clearing before him. Kalakchik stood in the grasses, talking with a small figure which met the description of the "elves" of this plane. He felt a yearning, an uncontrollable need to go to this creature. Folding his wings behind his back, he stalked out to greet the stranger. As the creature on the other side of the clearing walked towards him, Quaeros approached it in turn. He stopped a few feet in front of it and stood, feeling the tug at the center of his soul. He reached out to it, and it reached out to him. As he touched its hand, he felt a numbing fire course down his arm, filling his very being with strange painless burning. His mind grew diffuse and expanded as the energies binding him together began to unravel. Kalackchik watched the two constructs, one in demon form, the other in elf form, approach each other and touch. Their bodies dissolved into a wind of raw energy which wound together, forming a glowing vortex which spiraled twenty feet into the air. It was truly fascinating, a sight he had never expected, but such were the joys of experimentation. The discovery of the unknown. Too bad he had had only that one chance to try out his theories, but this trial was developing beyond his expectations. The vortex was shrinking now, funnelling energy back down into solid form. Suddenly, the vortex was gone, and the body of the elven aspect, Quaeros, lay in the center of the clearing. Fascinating. Apparently the body of the plane where the joining took place was dominant. That fit. It was only too bad he had not thought of bringing them together in a neutral plane, but he probably would never have had the opportunity. Now the only question was whether the construct had retained its sanity. When Quaeros opened his eyes he was staring at the star-filled sky above him. The stars amazed him, for there were no stars in the Abyss, and his amazement amazed him, for he had never been in the Abyss. Two sets of memories twisted about each other, each trying to comprehend the other. He felt whole, complete. All though his lives, he had been different from all of the others around him, but now he had found himself. He looked curiously down at his body, the body of his Quaeros-memory, for half of him had never seen it before. He curled his fingers, watching his hand move. He arose from the ground and stood to face Kalakchik, his mentor/tormentor, who stared at him with open interest. "I am whole, friend Kalakchik. You have brought me together, and I thank you for it." "It is good to hear you speak, friend Drachnes. Or are you now Quaeros? Which part of your mind is dominant?" "Both. So call me Quaeros, for that is who I am here." "You have seen the truth at last. Will you now join me in the destruction of those mortals with whom you have been traveling? It will be good to have you at my side when I take my appointed place in the hierarchy." "No." "You refuse me? I thought you to be my friend, Drachnes." "Drachnes is your friend, so I am your friend, but these mortals you so casually condemn are the friends of Quaeros, and are thus also my friends. Do not force me to decide between you, at least not yet." "Very well, although I am sure that you will soon see the matter as I do. You are much more my kin than theirs. However, we now seem to be at cross-purposes, for your companions represent a risk to me." "I will go back to them and watch them. Elanon is sorely wounded, so they will not be interfering in anything for quite some time. I will even report their actions to you, on the condition that no further action be taken against them for now. Perhaps I can lead them out of this conflict, or perhaps I will have decided on a course of action by the time they are ready to travel once more." "I give you my word that they will come to no harm, as long as you report their actions to me weekly. I am also curious as to what the exact effects of the joining are. Simply call, and I will hear you. I will shortly be drawn back to my own plane, as the barriers between that plane and this reassert themselves, but you, a native of both, will remain as my agent. Be true to me and I will reward you greatly." "Farewell. I must return." Quaeros bowed slightly to Kalakckik and walked back towards the camp. The night noises filled him with wonder, for they were new and strange and beautiful. The pleasure of finding a thing both familiar and novel sustained him as he traveled through the wood, watching the play of the moonlight on the forest floor. The camp was not far, and he waved to Kyar as he returned. Kyar watched him suspiciously as crept back to his bedroll and bowed his head in prayer. Perhaps Ronkel could help settle the mass of confusion which was his mind; Quaeros had taken much solace in his dark deity before, so perhaps it could help now. Unfortunately, he could not focus his yet-divided mind, so he finally gave up and went to sleep, trusting that the long stay in camp would give him time to adjust to his new perspective. [ADMIN: Well, this is probably the last post in the JOI thread for quite some time, unless the few participants who still have net access want to run short excursions while everyone else is away. Would anyone still around email me? Maybe we can get something going.] --------------------------------------------------------------------- Johann Hibschman | When in trouble, or in doubt, hibschmn@phoenix.princeton.edu | Run in circles, scream and shout. --------------------------------------------------------------------- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kring@efes.physik.uni-kl.de (Thomas Kettenring) Subject: Re: [NTY] Re: The return of Firgun. Message-ID: <1993May17.014804.2041@rhrk.uni-kl.de> References: <1t3c5cINNqrk@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> <1993May15.230511.22030@rhrk.uni-kl.de> <1t5ochINNpu7@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> Date: Mon, 17 May 1993 01:48:04 GMT In article <1t5ochINNpu7@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU>, scott@athena.mit.edu (Scott D Bradburn) writes: >"Backer, you should have stayed around the dungeon. The fungi and molds >down there were incredible, if only I could have convinced a few more inmates to >part with theirs. Speaking of fungus, you look nearly as tense as you did >when that rat was sitting on you. Would you care for a free potion of >relaxation?" "Look, another gnome! Do you know him?" Bakr pointed to Eski, who just left the Inn after awakening from one of those time distortions. "Oh, I just remember I have to visit Luthor and Serene! Sorry, it was nice to talk to you all, but I have to go!" He waved in the general direction of the table and hurried to the door. ADMIN: Whew! Escaped. How embarrassing. -- Bakr ibn Ja'far ibn Musa al Mekneshi, apprentice mage aka Thomas Kettenring MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir-the-Love-Stricken-and-happy) Subject: [Sorc] Dark nights. Drake's Night. Message-ID: Date: Mon, 17 May 1993 12:05:08 GMT Fireworks exploded and glittered all over Generica. There were people running all about, children playing, songs being sung and a copious ammount of wine being drunk by all. Happiness reigned supreme after the trials of the storm and other such things. Yet, as often did happen right the way across the world of Nexus, there was trouble brewing beneath the veil of happiness. This trouble had a name. That name was Drake's Carnival. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "Roll up!! Roll up!! Come one, come all. Welcome one and all to the Carnival, the extravaganza, the beauty that is Drake's Carnival!!" A man in a bright red long-tailed jacket, white trousers, black boots and a top hat was announcing to the crowd. "We have got extravaganzas from far and wide!! Shows to amaze you!! Trinkets to amaze you!! Animals of far and wide origins, strange exotic beasts to amaze you all. Welcome all to Drake's Carnival!!!" He looks energetic, professional, elegant, and has the crowd in the palm of his hand. He has a short well-trimmed beard and an air of mystique that no-one can quite put a finger on. "And now, for your entertainment ... Madame Zorba the Fortune Teller and prophet ..." An outburst of applause rings over the area of the Market Square where Drake's Carnival has settled. A short plump woman arrived out from behind a curtain. She was dressed in millions of bracelets, and a dress covered in flowers. She looked darkly at the crowd, and sat upon her chair. "Who would wish that I, Madame Zorba, would delve into their futures, seek out their goals and dreams and tell them what was to come of it, eh?" Her voice was strangely seductive, alluring, like a temptress or a hypnotist "Do any of ye dare to come forth?" Fellamar the Merchant, a sucessful man of many years trading through Generica's streets decided that he really did need to know the future. He raised his hand. "Ah, we have a subject, then", the woman smiled and the crowd applauded. He walked over to the table and sat down. "Am I supposed to pay ye in silver, madame?" he asked, reaching for his purse. "No, no, payment can be handled ... later I think" she chuckled, making him feel at ease. He sat there and watched as she closed her eyes and appeared to enter into a trance, and she turned her head left and right in a swinging left and right slowly and methodically. Then she opened her eyes. To Fellamar, they had an oddly glowing quality to them, a baleful glint of green. He squirmed in the seat, but did not shake her gaze. "Fellamar the Merchant ... " she began and a murmur went up around the crwod instantly. Fellamar was scared now. "Fellamar the Merchant , I see troubled times ahead of you. You may find yourself in dire straits or you may find yourself sucessful. It depends on your wife, Fellamar. She mourns for you, calls for you." Fellamar started to say something "But my wife died-" "Silence Fellamar. She calls to you from beyond the grave. She beckons you to come to her, to meet with her, and to be with her. Your future will depend solely on whether you choose to join her Fellamar. Laura needs you." Fellamar was fretting, sweating. His hands were nervously shaking. Madame Zorba came out of her trance and looked around. At first slowly, then more assuredly, the crowd were clapping, applauding her efforts. Those who knew Fellamar knew she was authentic and clapped the hardest. Fellamar started to rise, to leave, but suddenly found he couldn't move. He felt like he was fighting for air, but wasn't moving at all. A voice enterred his mind, bypassing his ears completely. "Payment, Merchant ", he knew it was her voice, but it was far more bestial, far more cruel. Suddenly, he felt himself being torn in a thousand diffrent diirections at once. He felt as though he was being subjected to the most horrible tortures, the Iron Maiden a thousand-fold. Then he was out. He could see the world as a whitish, misty place without detail. The crowds' clapping faded, become less and less with each passing moment. He saw his body, and he saw the dark thing, the hideous midnight creature standing beside it, waiting. It sat down, enterred his body. He saw himself move, but he had a glint in his eyes, a baleful green. "No!! Help Meee !! Help meeee!!!" Spiralling down and down, the laughter, the simple chuckle of the woman, Madame Zorba, the creature, Madame Zorba, the devil, Madame Zorba. He could only look down and see the fires that awaited him below .... Fellamar the Demon arose from the table and went back into the crowd unnoticed by all. The man in the Red Coat came back out. "Thank you, Madame Zorba. The Madame will be taking more fortunes in her tent over there for very little cost indeed." He simply smiled. ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Click. See the woman walking down the alley near the Low City. See her boyfriend, big and strong. See the bottle of wine in their hands. See the face in the shadows beyond. See the clown emerge from the shadows beyond. See the grin upon his face. See the clown approach the couple. See the clown sneak behind. See the clown smile, cold , cold, cold. See the couple startle by the clown. See the clown smile and talk. See the clown talking of marriage. See the boyfriend tell the clown See the boyfriend, poor as beggar, he cannot give a ring See the woman sad for she cannot have a ring for marriage. See the clown smile suddenly and laugh See the clown reach into his pocket and bring forth a ring. See the ring, gleaming in the midnight air. See the man take the ring and shout with joy. See the man proclaim his love. See the man put the ring on her finger See the clown smile the wicked smile. See the woman turn on the man, a Beast See the Beast shred the man. See the hatred that was the woman. See the Beast return to woman, yet not woman See the clown smile. He has many more rings. Ring a ring a rosie, Pocket full of posie A tissue A tissue We all fall ... down. Click. -- 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 MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kcj8521@ultb.isc.rit.edu (K.C. Johnson ) Subject: [BH] talking by the fire (Drift Inn) Message-ID: <1993May17.144959.4305@ultb.isc.rit.edu> Date: Mon, 17 May 1993 14:49:59 GMT Artimian walked over to the fire and sat down next to Miscrir. A long moment passed and Miscrir continued to stare into the fire seemingly unaware of Artimian. "Excuse me?" Artimian prodded. Still no reaction from Miscrir. "Umm, I was wondering. Since Ms Mirinara told us a bit about your past, I thought you might mention a few things about her past?" Artimian tried again. "He'll lose you know." Miscrir responded. "What? Who'll lose" Miscrir nodded vaguely in the direction of the table where Amberle and Toscon were engaged in a little card game. "He'll lose. No one can beat her with her own cards. Can't be done. She'll even find out his fortune from a little card game like that and he'll never know." "Could you explain some?" Artimian prompted. "If you must know then let me say a few words first". Miscrir stirred the fire with a stick for about a minute. Artimian began to fidget a bit. "Hmmmm what was I saying?" "Umm something about Amberle I think" "Oh, ok. Well her mother was a gypsy queen in the South. Their band was one of the few to journey to the outlying kindoms. The journeys allways lost money but her mother allways came. Amberle's brothers and sisters were all very talented. Each one displayed a different talent. Amberele was sent with the rest of her magically talented brothers and sisters off to a special school and upon her graduation she had worked her way back to the south to meet up with her mothers troup. It was then when I met her. Her mother could see peoples futures like Amberle can. Her mother had forbidden anyone to cast a fortune on me and Amberle wish to know why. So one night she laid her cards for me. She never said what the cards said and before anything else could happen her mother walked in. Amberle and her mother had a terrific fight. Somehow I was the topic of the fight. The fight ended with Amberle running off. Later do to some circumstances I ran off and searched for her. I felt kind of resposible. We traveled for awhile together until I had an accident. During that time I could point to five instances where it was evident she really was gifted but ..." Miscrir trailed off and returned to staring at the fire. better. MagicHutchHeader From: dnichols@engr.latech.edu (Dennis Nichols) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [WTRT] Blood Lust Part III Date: Mon, 17 May 1993 18:26:02 GMT Message-ID: This is being post for Thorr-kan, and may be a repeat post. If it is, please excuse. CUT HERE -------- Blood-lust, Part III >Just behind the fallen chief, the minotaur realizes no one faces him. Grunting, he pulls >the short sword from his chest. "Weapon," he grunts, and goes looking for more enemies >to slay. Six other goblins are scattered among the clearing. Two are searching the body of Roger and arguing over his katana. Three others have been trying to divide the spoils from Wanderer. The sixth is busy acting as a projectile. The minotaur had taken a lone goblin by surprise. Expecting his chief, the creature hadn't even bothered to turn towards the sound behind him. He died from his carelessness, his neck broken under Thorr-kan's grasp. The body goes sailing across the clearing, impacting on Thorr-kan's biggest threat: the two with bows. One of the archers dies, crushed. The second barely avoids the same fate by searching Roger's pack at the right instant. Thorr-kan follows at a sprint. Throwing the body brings agony from his chest wound, but, for some reason, he can ignore it. Pain is already fading under a strange warmth and blood not longer flows. Somehow, that does not seem right... The tribesmen know that their fellows are dead, and that the beast before them is probably the reason. Survival is at stake now. Three spear-carries form a ragged battle-line; the archer drops back and nocks. A snarl escapes from the minotaur. He cannot reach the primary threat! Setting a portion of his mind on guard, he turns his attention to the insects in front of him. With only a short sword, they actually pose a challenge. Thorr-kan feints right, testing his enemies. He blurs into motion: a thrust here, a parry there, a dodge somewhere inbetween. But no matter how hard he fights, wherever he moves, a spear always blocks his way. The goblins are reluctant to close. But if they can keep the beast occupied long enough... Thorr-kan has steadily been giving ground to spear carriers. His battle-rage is more hindrance that help now. Hot anger builds, blocking thoughts of tactics or technique. All the minotaur wants is to KILL. Somewhere, a goblin prayer is answered. The archer had finally collected enough wits to get off a shot. The results are impressive. An arrow slams into the minotaurs right shoulder. Another skips off his horn. A spear slips through his guard, catching on a rib. One more arrow whips into his left leg. A roar of frustration rises from Thorr-kan. 'Death be damned! These insects will pay!' comes the red-tinged thought. Ignoring the spear-wielders, the minotaur cocks his arm and throws. His short-sword sails through the air, glittering in the light. Transfixed, the goblin archer finds death stuck in his throat, his skull split. The victory costs Thorr-kan. He takes another jab to his wounded leg. Trying to dodge and get a little more room, the minotaur stumbles. A goblin, bolder than the others, leaps forward at the opportunity. Like his chieftain, he falls to an invisible bite and sting. Gleep appears over the fallen minotaur, berating him loudly, then fading away again. Thorr-kan can make nothing of this creature. But his attention is quickly drawn away. The minotaur needs a weapon of some sort. Perhaps the halberd that tripped him will prove useful... He grabs onto it, rolling away from yet another spear-thrust. As Thorr-kan's hands close about its haft a coolness comes over him. Red-tinged vision shifts slowly to a gray. At the back of the minotaur's mind, a calmness starts building. A power from the weapon flows into Thorr-kan's arms. It feels...right, somehow; he does not question it. As he rolls to his feet, he re-assesses the situation. Two goblins remain. They will be easy meat. The halberd snaps to the guard position. A spear-thrust is deflected up to the right. The second is caught by the blade and shattered on the down stroke. The minotaur spins completely around and slams the head of the halberd through the unarmed goblins's chest. Thorr-kan yanks his weapon free as the creature falls. With a ferocious bellow, he swings a final time. Goblin halves fall far apart. The minotaur stands for a moment, then removes the arrows. Immediately, the wounds close and start healing. Thorr-kan's mind is in the midst of the same process. Somehow the battle was wrong. But it is over. A weight settles on his shoulders, and he recognizes the scent of a friend. Slowly he is becoming the White Minotaur again.. However, something still keeps Thorr-kan on edge. The Horn of Justice is still radiating. Turning his mind and senses lose, Thorr-kan slips once more into a fighting stance. To a casual observer, there would seem no difference between this being and the killing machine present just minutes before. Said observer would only be partially right. The battle-rage is there; but now, it is harnessed to a cold and quick rationalness. This control is the fine distinction between a master warrior and a mindless fighter. A hiss sounds from his shoulders. Gleep, too, senses a wrongness. Warrior instincts focus on one of the fallen humans. He is rising from amidst the corpses with a strained and wild look. A Power animates this human. Who or what he was is no longer important. A challenge is issued. The Horn flares in response and the White Minotaur nods grimly. Kiri-Jolith has not forsaken him. Once again he is drawn into open conflict with other-worldly powers. He is no match for such and has not a hope of victory. But since when has that mattered? It is now a matter of honor: his own, his god's, his fallen comrades. Thorr-kan roars his acceptance and strides forth to do battle. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [Party] Kadrys & Kardia: Kiss and Tell Message-ID: <1993May17.163344.8657@data-io.com> Date: Mon, 17 May 1993 16:33:44 GMT [AMIND: This is posted on behalf of Andrea Evans.] ----- Kardia looked up and focused on Kadrys' face. Her face stilled with his stillness, with his sorrow. She drew a shaking breath, and very, very slowly, she reached up to that sculpted face. Her fingertips trembled against his stillness, trembled with her breath, with her heartbeat. The silken softness of her feather light touch traced down the stark line of his jaw. Softly, so softly she said, "What..." her voice faltered, "what is that which traps you?" His eyes widened. "You see it?" he breathed. "Yes..." Those fingertips traced the prominent veins along his throat, along the smooth, hairless skin of his bare chest, through the remaining tatters of his shirt. "here... and here..." Her voice was so soft as to be featureless, "It's... well... everywhere. Hooking into you..." "When did you first see?" "Just now. I... I was looking at the demon with... with the same sight I use in my curse breaking; and then you stepped in my view. I... I didn't know." His hands flew toward her with uncanny speed, but their grip when they closed on her upper arms was gentle. He stared intently at her. "You didn't see it when you first looked at me?" "No... no." The moonlight glinted red off her hair as she shook her head. Kardia was shivering again. "Then _why_ were you so uncomfortable around me?" Kardia stood up straight and found herself nearly eye to eye with Kadrys. She saw his realization of her height in the slight movement of his body. She smiled a slightly crooked smile, "Because you reminded me of a cat. A big, powerful cat." He matched her smile with a slightly cynical grin of his own. "That's no reason." She laughed softly, "You're telling me... the last man I loved was nearly a foot taller than me, with white hair, pointy ears, and half his body was... molten sand... and steel." Kardia shook her head, "But he moved like a cat, all grace and power. He also listened to me babble, since I was six..." There was longing and pain in her voice. She whispered, "What am I doing?" There was a long silence and then an even voice from the slender man, "You're talking with a vampire." Her head came up. "Oh." Then she grinned, "My eyes aren't very appetizing, all plastic. You don't look very Japanese, though, so I guess that's irrelevant..." Her voice trailed off, and one hand trembled just over the veins along his chest. "Is... is it supposed to be doing that?" Her voice wavered, "It looks like it's cutting into you, hurting you..." A quiet chuckle, "Yes, I believe it is supposed to do that. There is a price for everything. The damage to my body was more extensive than the few scratches you saw. The price for such healing... is _high_." The last word was a dry, thready pant. He studied her face for a moment before continuing in his usual steady, slightly ironic tones. "...And, after the storm, my strength was already low. The Curse is very... _insistent_ on being fed and has a very insistent way of telling me its needs." "Oh." Kardia gingerly touched the veins before her, "Would some of mine help?" The tone of her voice was casual, with no fear, merely curiosity. It should have been shock, but her eyes were clear as they looked at him. While her hands were cold, there was no longer the edge of hysteria in her voice. For a long, long moment, he simply stared, his face wiped clean of all expression. But, she gradually realised, this was not his normal, intense caution, the wariness that refused to let his thoughts show on his face. It was the blankness of deep surprise, of shock. Then, so slowly, a gentle smile dawned, and spread, lighting his whole being, dispelling the chilling, skeletal resemblance written there by his hunger. His hands slipped caressingly round her back, gathered her into his arms. Lightly as a moth's wing, his lips brushed hers, and silently he mouthed the single word, "_Yes._" At the word, Kardia's eyes closed. She found herself trembling again, but not with fear, rather, at the huge ache that opened up within her at his smile and so gentle kiss. She found herself clinging to him as if she were the one about to receive nourishment. The softness of her lips, the warm flush of her cheeks, the eyelids delicate as petals: each of these in turn he kissed, drawing her heady scent deep inside him in long slow breaths, his heart speeding until it matched the throb of her, the warm pulse echoing throughout her body. Slowly, savouring each moment, his head moved lower, past the angle of her jaw. He felt the catch in her breathing, cradled her head in his hand as she lifted her chin to the side, baring the taut white curve of her throat. He could see her heartbeat pounding in the great arteries and veins. His thirst screamed at him, as it always did, for the killing bite, the torrent straight from the heart. He pushed that blind lust aside, focused instead on the delicate web of minor arteries that fanned upward from the great artery toward her jaw and face. Yesss, better there, by far. Slower, for them both. Aching with anticipation, he opened his mouth, pressing his lips to her warm flesh, letting the needle points of his fangs just rest against the pulsing skin. He felt the shiver rippling through her body at the touch. Now. Slowly, slowly, he sank his fangs into her throat. He moaned softly as his mouth filled with her blood, heat and strength and life flowing into him. The ecstasy of it exploded into the depths of his being as he swallowed and felt it burning down the length of his body like a comet, falling in flame and spreading into every tiny fibre of his flesh, in a fiery glow of purest sensual pleasure. His arms tightened round her back, pressing her to him, holding her close as her knees gave way and she sagged, lost in his arms. He could feel her throat vibrating to her own soft panting cries of pleasure. And then his awareness of the outside world faded, and he was only the sensation, the ecstasy, swimming in the pounding river of her hot blood. A mind, adrift in a red sea of sensuality. Adrift, but not alone. There. The other mind. Aswim in pleasure, but this mind was lost, had no map in this unfamiliar ocean of bliss. Reach out to it, take it into his own mind. There. A flood of glory, a panting, pleasure building, spiralling beyond all control like feedback in a circuit, ecstasy throbbing through her with every beat of her heart, with every movement her pulse made against his fangs, buried deep in her throat. *** Yes. I know. I hear you. Kardia. *** Darkness, vast as the final void of space, when all the stars had died. It reached out to her where she floated, borne out of herself on wave after pulsing wave of ecstasy. It engulfed her totally, encompassed her on all sides. There should have been fear. There was none. She knew who it was. She heard the darkness speak, in familiar quiet tones. She even felt his surprise at the meaning of her name as he picked it out of her memory. In the midst of the darkness, cradled like a jewel on black velvet, a glittering, delicate shape unfurled myriad agile legs. A spider, slender and silver, spinnerets formed to weave the fabric of dreams. The spider's eyes shone like cabochon diamonds, looking out into the fathomlessness in which she was held. "Kadrys... What is this?" (wonder poured from her, wonder untarnished by fear). *** Your mind is in my grasp. This is the chief power of undeath: the charm of the gaze, the bliss of the blood. Both of these open the way, to _this_. A meeting of minds. A touching of souls. An embrace more complete than any the body can offer... *** Kardia laughed softly in wonder and sudden, impish irreverence, "And here all I was hoping for was a kiss in the moonlight..." -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader From: whitaker@tlshpp7.mdcbbs.com (Mike Whitaker - SDL) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Introduction: A strange arrival Date: 17 May 1993 20:16:58 GMT Message-ID: <1t8rrq$438@suntan.eng.usf.edu> A deserted alleyway in the city. Early evening. Suddenly, an odd whistling noise disturbs the background hubbub, and a small dust devil beings to form. Slowly it grows, and as it grows, it throws off strands of swirling raindow light, shifting in random patterns about its darkening core. At its heart a sillhouette of a woman begins to take shape, and the whirlwind of chaotic colour grows until it is head- height, then higher, and the outline of the figure is solid, and then.... It vanishes, suddenly, silently, and the figure slumps heavily to the ground. A few moments pass, and the flame-haired figure struggles to a half-sitting position, hands clawing for support on a broken crate. An "oh..." escapes her lips, and she leans over and is noisily sick, again and again, till it is no more than dry retching. At length she regains enough composure to sit upright, shoulders resting aginst the alley wall, and lets out a long shuddering sigh. "Breathe," she tells herself, and takes several deep gulps of the city air, breaths that are more than half sobs. "Hell..." She buries her face in her hands for a moment. "I need a *drink*." She takes stock: leather jacket, white blouse, black trousers, white calf-high boots, and a knife, sheathed and thrust into the belt of the trousers. Two golden bracelets on one wrist, and a gold necklace. A handful of coins. And on her knife hand, a dark bloodstain. Not hers. Not red. A dark blue, almost black. Yet, she knows it to be blood. For a moment she stares at it, puzzled. Somehow, this holds the key to who she is, why she is here. "Why can't I remember?" She looks round, green eyes taking in the alley, the evening sky above her, the stone walls of the surrounding houses. "Where am I?" A pause. "*Who* am I?" Another. "Who *am* I?" Her head falls forward onto her arms, and her shoulders shake with silent sobs. Some measure of composure restored, she straightens up, and unsteadily gets to her feet, one hand on the wall for support. "Uhhh..." Almost, she falls. "Gods... I *need* that drink." A minute or so suffices to clear her head, and steady her balance. Slowly, with deliberate steps, she walks down the alley and into the wider street, and casts about to left and right. A sign catches her eye. 'The Dragon's Inn'. Welcoming yellow light spills from its doorway, and the sound of cheerful voices beckons her on. Carefully, she makes her way over to the inn, and through its open door. She pauses for a moment in the doorway, tries and fails to make something of her dishevelled hair and tear-streaked face, takes a long breath, and walks slowly over to the bar. "Uh..." The barman smiles at her. "A drink, perhaps?" "Uh, yeah..." Finally the word comes to her. "Whisky. A large one. Please." The barman complies, and she holds out a handful of coins. He frowns, but eventually picks out three that seem to satisfy him. She manages a smile and a "Thanks", picks up the glass and takes it to the nearest empty table, sitting down heavily. Both hands clasped round the tumbler, she drinks half the amber liquid, quickly, almost greedily, before setting it down and resting her head on her folded arms on the tabletop. -- Mike Whitaker +44-223 | mikew@ug.eds.com (preferred) \ Me: Bards just Shape Data/EDS 371565 | mwhitaker@cix.compulink.co.uk \ KNOW things... MagicHutchHeader From: scott@athena.mit.edu (Scott D Bradburn) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [NTY] Re: The return of Firgun. Date: 17 May 1993 23:13:36 GMT Message-ID: <1t9670INN91a@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> References: <1t3c5cINNqrk@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> <1993May15.230511.22030@rhrk.uni-kl.de> <1t5ochINNpu7@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> <1993May17.014804.2041@rhrk.uni-kl.de> In article <1993May17.014804.2041@rhrk.uni-kl.de>, kring@efes.physik.uni-kl.de (Thomas Kettenring) writes: |> |> "Look, another gnome! Do you know him?" Bakr pointed to Eski, who just |> left the Inn after awakening from one of those time distortions. "No, I don't know him. If I point out a random human would you expect to know him, I mean, it's just..." |> "Oh, I |> just remember I have to visit Luthor and Serene! Sorry, it was nice to |> talk to you all, but I have to go!" He waved in the general direction of |> the table and hurried to the door. |> "Wait... er..." said Firgun, too slow to stop Bakr on his rush out of the inn. He turned to look at the strangers that he was now sitting with. "So, um... what were we talking about? Would you like to hear about how I saved everyone during the rat quest?" -- Scott MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: jcarl@jabba.ess.harris.com (Darvos Metnar) Subject: [BBD] To build a Chalice of agelessness Message-ID: Date: Mon, 17 May 1993 23:20:36 GMT Velric stood over the altar in an uncomfortable position. But the ritual demanded strict somatic gestures, and the linguistic component wasn't any easier. Fortunately Velric had well over 100 years of study of the mystical language of magic, so he concentrated on the somatic gestures more. The chalice he was enchanting with Lissa's blood was almost complete. With this chalice he could drink the distilled essence of youth and arrest the progression of aging for himself for a small time. He would be dependent upon the chalice until he could divine a better solution, but if this worked he would have the time. Velric looked to be in his mid 20's and if not for a total absence of hair on his entire body, might have been considered attractive. His craft of necromancy left little concern for what the living thought of him though. And when he had lost all of his hair in a freak magic accident when he was first apprenticed he hadn't bothered to have the curse removed. At first the curse was a reminder to be careful. Then Velric realized the dangers of having hair when you were around dead rotting corpses most of your life. The parasites and other vermin were much easier to take care of when you didn't have hair. So when he finally had the power to release himself from the curse he just left it the way it was. In fact in another year his backwards aging problem would soon reverse the curse and start his hair growing again. Velric had attained enough power for him to consider becoming a lich, but because of inferior material components the ritual almost backfired, a lesser mage would not still be alive. Velric had suppressed the backlash of magical energys and molded them as best he could. What he had finally gotten was a strange curse. He was aging backwards. For each year he aged normally his physical and mental processes lost a corresponding year since the inception of the curse. The first year of the curse wasn't as bad as it was frustrating. Every time he tried to figure out what had gone wrong with his experiment, he kept forgetting all about it. He had to keep referring to his latest notes on the subject. As the years went by he soon forgot about his most powerful magics, and and it was almost too late before he realized what was happening. He then began to rememorize everything needed for all the years he had gained. It turned out that he had to re-teach himself what he had forgotten and then he could remember it fresh again. Unfortunately he was now nearing his fledgling years. The basics were much harder to reconstruct. Without the basic axioms of magic understood then everything else unraveled from there. If he forgot the basics of magic he would then loose capability of controlling his spell casting. And have no means of recreating it. It's like if you forget how to read some words you can always look them up in some sort of reference material or figure out their meaning from the context] they are used. But once you forget how to compose letters into words, then you forget how to teach yourself how to read. Then the context doesn't even make sense let alone construct new meanings. As good a wizard as Velric was, he knew he could probably memorize series of magical phrases. But that would be dangerous if he memorized the wrong series of phrases. The art of magic _was_ constructing new phrases depending on the conditions involved. And soon he would forget all about the individual characters that composed the words themselves. He was in danger of losing his magic altogether. Justifiably Velric was desperate for a solution. His search through the Generican Great Library had shed some light on the problem. His research indicated that an elixur of agelessness could be concocted from the essence of the youth mingled with the essence of the ancient. Velric had no idea what that meant but his searches had led him to a child named Lissa, here in Generica. The Gutt Man had captured her and brought the child to a suitable location for some preliminary experiments. Lissa's ward Darvos, and his friend Lancos had burst in near the end of gathering the required material for the next stage of his experimentation. The temerity with which the two tracked Lissa down during the raging storm was a surprise to him. But fortunately for him, the Gutt Man occupied the the Warrior Lancos so he could deal with the lesser mage Darvos. He hadn't counted on Little Rat intervening. He had to make a quick exit before he could finish off the fool mage and his friend. Velric's thoughts came back to the ritual as he was putting on the final touches to seal the enchantment to the chalice. ********** Velric smiled broadly as he showed the chalice to BBD. "It worked!" "Of course it worked, you didn't think I would let you continue with your studies if it wouldn't have worked. Did you?" BBD said with a sneer. As strong as Velric was, BBD was not worried about Velric as long as he still wore the Bracelet. His actions were fully under his control as long as the bracelet was still bonded to him, and most of his thought could easily be read. Velric noticed BBD's eyes glance at the bracelet on his arm. Velric of course was aware of the bracelet properties and could shield himself to a small degree from the effects. "That's right" he thought "you know that after I have Lissa secreted away in a safe place, that this bracelet will soon come off. My need for your assistance is comming to an end" "Now that that task is complete." BBD paused to insure that Velric was paying close attention. "I have another task for you." -- Joe Carl Jr. "It ain't what a man don't know that makes him a jcarl@jabba.ess.harris.com fool, but what he does know that ain't so." -- Josh Billings MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kring@efes.physik.uni-kl.de (Thomas Kettenring) Subject: [inn] Kloote and Bakr Message-ID: <1993May17.232110.14279@rhrk.uni-kl.de> Date: Mon, 17 May 1993 23:21:10 GMT ADMIN: Here is the posting belonging between "[Bazaar/Inn] Bakr visits Brycur" and "[NTY] One More Meeting". It was mostly done by me, with the help of Chris Steiner. ADMIN: When I wrote this I found out that I used to misspell "crumple" as "crumble", giving it another meaning. Probably I make more such mistakes, this is not my native tongue... Could the more pedantic among you please correct me when I do? Thanks! > Some time later, the door of the Inn opened, and in came Bakr. At one of the >tables sat a tall elderly man in a purple cloak, a sort of lizard on his arm, >and got rather pale when their eyes met. Medor pulled his head out of Kloote's glass when he felt his mage's arm stiffen. He tried to focus his eyes on what his mage was looking at, but for the moment could only see a blur. His vision sharpened quickly as a quick hangover set in. Bakr had seen this man before. Before he had entered the Rat Quest, when he had sat at the fire covered with fur, the man had been there too, but he hadn't recognized Bakr as he did now. (He hadn't had the familiar then... it didn't behave as if it could move on its own account without falling over every few seconds.) Bakr was now sure this had to be the man he looked for. He went to the table and said, "I have been told to contact you." Sensing that his mage was tense, Medor scurried up his arm and crouched, ready to defend him if necessary. He briefly entertained the idea of growling menacingly, as he'd seen other familiars do, but stopped when he realized that this other person either couldn't hear him or simply wasn't scared. Kloote quickly decided that this was not for the public. He motioned Bakr to follow him, stood up and went to the bar. "Can we have the back room?" Rowan nodded, "Sure," and the two left the main room. "What do you want?" Kloote was a bit nervous. "Back home." Kloote looked to the floor. "How did you find out? Do others here know too?" "I didn't tell anybody. The Oracle told me I shouldn't." "That's good. Well, I am afraid I can't help you. The picture is in the Mysty Mountains, or rather, Spach has it, wherever she is." "What picture? Who is Spach?" "Female gnome. A real pest." His nose went up. "You don't know the details?" "No, please fill me in." "I draw a picture of the creature I want to conjure, I surround it with a circle, I crumple the paper, I throw it on the floor - the creature appears. I left your picture in the woods, together with the others, and Klikk took it with him. Now Spach has it." Bakr's face lit. "You conjured me?" Kloote felt like kicking himself. "You didn't know that? What DID you know?" "I was thrown into this world while walking to Ikonium with my comrades, then after a long search I found an Oracle, which told me to come here and contact a tall person in a cloak. Of course the place is full of them. You recognized me, so I knew it was you." Both were silent for a while, ordering their thoughts. Then Bakr spoke. "Can you bring me back?" "No, you need the picture for that. Just tear it apart, but it's you who has to do that." "And Spach has the picture?" "Yes." "You know where she is?" "Recently she was in the Inn, but she tore her own picture apart, sending her back to the Mountains. Can't you use the World Gate?" "I guess I'll have to. I wanted to do that anyway before I saw you." "Fine. Bye." "One moment." "What else?" "What did you do that for?" "Conjure you? Uh..." Kloote pondered then decided he'd tell the truth, or at least part of it. "A friend of mine and me, we got drunk, and I made some pictures of silly faces, just for fun..." "Silly faces." "Well, you have to admit that that nose is unusual in these parts." "Hm... I am here because you had too much booze?" "One could say that." "Don't you have any sense of responsibility? Where I come from you'd be thrown out of the Mage Guild for that! Are you in the Mage Guild?" "Nonononono! I am a conjurer, not a mage!" "Aha. Unorganized, huh?" "Unorganized. I won't do it again too. I lost a county because of it. That's enough punishment, one should think. Please don't tell anybody, I am trying to open business here." Bakr started to feel a bit sorry for him. "Okay, I'm a tomb for all practical purposes." "Thank you very much!" "A county is too high a price for... One moment! How many persons did you conjure?" Kloote blew up his cheeks and left out some air. "Around ten." Bakr grimaced at him. "What's your name?" Silence. Then, "Lifilis Kloote." Littlefair knew his name, so lying was too dangerous. "And yours?" Bakr told him. Silence again. "I guess there's nothing else to say," said Kloote. "Yes." Bakr left the back room and looked around. Kloote followed him, visibly in a good mood. This could have been worse. Medor looked his mage in the left eye as if to say, 'So what was all that about?' > Bakr came out of the back room, followed by Kloote, when he overheard the >sentence "So, what do you know about rats?" at a nearby table. -- Bakr ibn Ja'far ibn Musa al Mekneshi, apprentice mage aka Lifilis Kloote, conjurer and artist aka Thomas Kettenring and Medor the Night Lizard aka Chris Steiner MagicHutchHeader From: bingchar@cwis.isu.edu (BINGHAM_CHARLES_D) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: A strange arrival Date: 17 May 1993 20:01:54 -0600 Message-ID: <1t9g2i$mif@cwis.isu.edu> Time passed quickly at the inn. The mysterious man in the green robes and black chainmail, had not left the inn for nearly three days. When not in his room, he was sitting at his table. It was as if he was waiting for someone to arrive but wasn't exactly sure when that would occur. Each night he would sit and drink his Tiberian Ale and enjoy the wonderful performances of the bard, Listener. Tonight began just as the others. He came down from his room, gave Serene a small emerald and took his mug of ale to his table. He was just getting comfortable when someone new arrived. This occurance was not something new to the man. In the past few days he had seen many new faces come and go from the inn, but this one was different. She wore a leather jacket over a white blouse and black trousers tucked into white boots. The man, looks at her even more closely a look of recognition upon his face. "Can it be," he mutters to himself. "The red hair, the clothing. It has to be her." Looking at his mug he continues his one-sided conversation with himself. "I haven't had enough ale to he suffering from hallucinations," looking to Listener, "and with the bard's magic I doubt that it is an illusion." Slowly he slides his chair away from his table and stands. "I must speak with her." He walks quickly to her table, where she is resting her head in her arms. Gently tapping on her shoulder he whispers, "Jessica, is it really you?" The lady looks up at him, and with a look of obvious despair he says, "I am sorry, M'lady. I mistook you for someone else. Please forgive my intrusion." Bowing slightly he turns and walks back to his table where he signals Serene for another mug of ale. -- Bingo Beauty is only skin deep, bingchar@ba.isu.edu Ugly goes right to the bone. GO d-- -p+ c+++ l m++ s+/ g+ w+ t+ r+ x+ MagicHutchHeader From: fogelinc@pt.Cyanamid.COM (Carl Fogelin) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Observing] Webster meets the devil Date: 18 May 1993 03:06:46 GMT Message-ID: <1t9jsa$gdf@c3po.jvnc.net> Crombie was truly amazed at the concerted effort that the people of Generica had expelled in cleaning up the major damages of the Storm. He was further amazed when he had heard that the city's birthday was going to be celebrated, despite the recent calamity. Figuring that this was another type of opportunity to observe the local populace, Crombie decided he would wander the town. Well, that was the official reason, but Crombie really wanted to go looking for that Kachin fellow he'd talk to during the Storm. He'd reported everything back to the Empire that he had seen, everything except his involvement with saving that child. He'd already been to the temple of Ilmater three times during the past week, checking on her progress. It seemed that no one had claimed her, and there was evidence that she might be a slave -- barbaric was all Crombie could think. She had still yet to speak, but she was now helping the priests at the church. Crombie had left a small platinum bar to pay for the priests charity. Donning his hiking boots, utility belt, and Angels baseball cap, he lit up a smelly cheroot, and climbed up off the _Lucky Grouper_. It was getting towards evening, and most of Generica's populace was celebrating out in the streets. He'd paused for awhile to listen to the Bard's Barge navigating up the Ceruputhon, and watched some of the people dance along the embankment. He had a funny feeling that he knew the piece the bards were playing... ... a rovin' in the night, we'll go no more a rovin' lad the moon shines so bright. We'll go no more a rovin'. and then had to smile as he realized it was the "Jolly Beggar - Reel". He then suddenly frowned. 'Now where did they learn that song..' he wondered. Sighing, he hiked onward. He'd decided he was going to go over to the Dragon's Inn. He'd never been there before, but the priests at Ilmater said that that Kachin fellow was more likely to be found there; he had the mannerisms of an adventurer. He'd noticed that the streets had filled with carnival people, especially here in the Plaza of Glittering Steel. He looked around at clowns stilt walking and fire-eaters and jugglers, and just had to laugh at the celebration. This was great. He went to a street vendor and bought a sweet-meat pie, paying with a silver piece when only 4 coppers were warranted. He wandered slowly out of the square, down dragon's lane towards where he saw people sitting at a sidewalk cafe -- no, a tavern had moved some of it's tables out into the street and were serving outside, adding to the festivities. Real- izing that that must be the Dragons Inn, Crombie headed that way. At least that was his intention, but someone tapped on his shoulder and said "You know, that magic dampening field is playing hell on your person. I could help you.." Turning, he saw a man in a tan trench coat, wearing a brown fedora and spats. Crombie's jaw dropped. When he regained his composure some, all he could say was "Who are you? How did you know about my field?" The fellow smiled a toothy smile and said "Mr Knaks, I know many things. I know that that field causes you discomfort, here on Nexus. I know your desires, I know your needs, and I would like to help." Crombie thought about it and then said "Under what terms?" "Minor, Mr Knaks. I assure you, very minor payment." The fellow smiled again and briefly thought he saw an evil glint in the guys eyes. He was sure it was just his imagination. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [ ADMIN: Oh boy Crombie, what have you gotten yourself into now. ] --------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Carl Fogelin (fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com) "All opinions are strictly mine" Up the long ladder and down the short rope, To Hell with King Billy and God bless the Pope. If that doesn't do, we'll tear 'em in two, And send 'em to Hell with their Red White and Blue. -- traditional MagicHutchHeader From: u9245340@wampyr.cc.uow.edu.au (Boyle Nicholas Daniel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: HAPPY BIRTHDAY A.P.D-I Date: 18 May 1993 20:05:25 +1000 Message-ID: <1tacd5$3v7@wampyr.cc.uow.edu.au> References: <1sst6u$huu@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: archives So true, we the first are now one year old. HighFlyer and the Company of the True Flight salutes all. Well met all! -- u9245340@wampyr.cc.uow.edu.au - Pwyll "If you can't dazzle 'em with Style, Riddle 'em with bullets" MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir-the-Love-Stricken-and-happy) Subject: [Sorc] An elf in a carnival of rats. Message-ID: Date: Tue, 18 May 1993 10:52:58 GMT ADMIN: Well, I am in a situation where I am forced to take liberties with somebody else's character or rewrite a part of reality whole and complete. I've been unable to get in contact with John Gad for the last few days and I need to get Silken up and moving again. So, I'm assuming that Alicia just fled the scene. Sorry for toe-treads but I have to get Silken back into he action. +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ His eyes opened to a night sky. The sky was clear, and his mind was clear. He was extremely hungry, and still very weak. Turning slowly, painfully, he saw that he was on a beach, in the Generican Harbor. The tide was coming in, and it had already begun to wash at his clothes. There was nobody around, but he remembered the woman who had saved his "life". She had been scared. Scared of him, of what he had become, of what he was. Hell, he was scared of what he was too. He slowly sat up, gazing out at the sea, the stars. He lifted himself into the air with an effort of will. His legs were too badly damaged to be useful. He flew home slowly, cloaked in the shadows, unnoticed. He passed over his own home, and saw a woman standing there, alone amid the wreckage of the storm. Even from this height, he knew that his Beast would clammer for her precious wellspring of life. It began to torment him, and he could do nothing but comply. Flying down slowly above her, he quickly grabbed her and put his hand over her mouth. Then he dragged her into the house, still afloat due to wounds. She struggled but his firm grip easily held her. Once inside, he shut the door by backing up against it and hit the woman once with a well-placed blow to the neck. She slumped, unconscious, and her neck presented itself. He complied with the Beast, but was determined not to kill her, no matter what. He would not kill her. He would take just some of her blood, enough maybe to walk a little, but no more from her. There were other Vessels out there. He bit her neck swiftly, wishing to get it over with. The pleasure that was entailed with the blood swept through him, welling up inside like a dam and then exploding out all through his body. Thousands of tiny little nerves crying out for satisfaction. Thousands of tiny little nerves gaining satisfaction. Ah the sheer pleasure. Don't stop. Stop for nothing. The Blood is one. The Blood is all. "No!!". Realisation dawned on him too late. He had not even begun to drink fully and already, she was drained, pale, white as a sheet. She was dead. Another life taken to feed his inexorable thirst. He murmured to himself, like a mad man, "I can't go on. This is too much. I can't go on." He was looking at the body of the woman and began, slowly, to breaak down into tears. Why did he have to do this? To be like this? He was a nervous wreck. He was also still hungry. At first, his self-questioning had blotted out all other emotions. But it gnawed at him, begged to him, threatened and cajoled him and grew in him. His legs were healing quickly, but they were burning up a terrific ammount of blood. The burn scars had faded mostly, and his body was regaining health by the minute, but he grew hungrier now. There was nothing he could do. He fought it., trying to keep it down. Here, in this room, where no mortals would invade his privacy, he would be fine. He told himself so. He sat there, at peace, trying to meditate, trying to ignore his bestial half. A rat squeaked in the distance. He turned, called the rat using one of his Powers. It tottered on over happily whereupon he quickly grabbed and drained what little blood was in it's body quickly, instinctively, despite all his attempts at meditation. Then a thought occurred to him. He thought of the beach, where he had called to a seagull, and fed from it while talking to Alicia. Now, he thought of the many rats and vermin of Generica. Each contained, by his estimate about one fourtieth of a humans Blood in volume, and the fare certainly was not nearly as nice as the human blood, but it would suffice. He concentrated, put the Hunger aside again and called to all the rats he could manage. He summoned them, beckoned them, enchanted them with his call. It went out and touched each and every rat he could find, bringing them to his home. Slowly, by degrees, they came, one by one, then in twos and threes. He quickly fed off each, tossing it's carcass aside. The rest were entranced that it did not even occur to them to run away. On and on they came, a procession of death, each there to feed the Vampire's hunger. Slowly, ever so slowly, he began to fill. At first, his remaining wounds healed. The taste was not particularly nice, but Silken was not about to do anything about that. It also had a strange odour to it which he recognised as being disease. His system quickly eradicated that. Eventually, after a long time, maybe an hour and hundreds of Rats consumed, he was sated and stop his call. He gazed at the carnage. Hundreds of tiny little dry husks. Ah well, too bad. He found that slaying rats didn't seem to disturb him as much as killing that one woman had. In fact, he felt possibly saner than he had in weeks. Slowly, quietly, he looked around his house, finding lots of old sacks which he'd kept out of habit from his old days, and began the process of putting all the rat bodies in the sacks. It didn't take too long to accomplish, and he walked, huge sack and all, down to the harbour slowly. He'd left the body of the woman in an alleyway, praying to the gods to forgive him again for this constant hunger of his. But a Vampire had no salvation, so they said. Yet he had met his mother. She had wanted him to come with her, but he had something to do first. Reaching the harbor, he threw the sack in without a second thought and went back home. Once back there, he changed out of his clothes into a new set of grey which he liked. Silks of course. His sword at his side his clothes on his back, his hair brushed and the grime on his body washed off, he looked at himself in the mirror. He looked to be the old Silken. His sanity was returning by measures, and he was tired. Oh so tired. He opened the floorboards and got into the bed below. It was still nightime, but he needed the rest. He slept a deep sleep, and didn't awaken for three days ... ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ "WARNING SAELEX KEEP!! WARNING SAELEX KEEP !! WARNING SAELEX KEEP!!" Silken awoke with a start, the sound ringing in his ears. That was Iglyarch's voice!! His automatic reaction was to burst out of the damn bed and turn this way and that, looking for Iglyarch or some other attacker. None presented themselves to them. He shook his head thinking it all to have been a dream, but couldn't shake the feeling. And what had old Saelex Keep got to do with it? He vaguely knew that Saelex was some old ruin of a castle from bygone days of yore. He heard cheering and singing from outside. There were sounds of singing, dancing, and general joviality coming from all around. What the hell was going on out there?? He dressed, opened the door and saw a group of Genericans partying. There was an explosion behind him. He turned instinctively, but saw that it was just a shower from fireworks exploding all over the city. Bewildered, Silken moved out onto the street. He was still nearly full on blood, and wouldn't need to feed again for quite a while. He wasn't afraid of the crowd, therefore. The dream message still wandered around his mind, but he pushed it aside, to see what the city was like today and why there was such a party. Cloaking into the shadows he saw that a particular group of people crowding around some carnival group were having a happy time. He decided that he would ramble on over. He saw a sign "Drake's Carnival" and a presenter babbling on about some "Madame Zorba". It didn't interest him too much, but he saw Fellamar, a merchant that he used to know, sitting down wiith the fortune teller. He looked on for a few seconds before beginning to move away. Then, he stopped. He could feel something. Something old, something familiar. Something from a long time ago. A certain sensation that he used to encounter duriing his time in ... Inferno?? Silken had been to hell and back in that place. There were many demonic creatures around and they held a special aura that his mind had been able to pick up when he was there. Now, he could feel it again. He looked around, trying to locate these demons. At first, he couldn't believe it. That the creatures of Tangthara would be able to come here, to Nexus. He nervously looked about, his eyes flicking this way and that, looking for the source of this feeling. He turned and looked baack at the carnival. That was it. There, the whole damn carnival was a horde of demons. It had to be! He moved closer and saw Fellamar get up, and leave. He was one of them now as well. Silken was sure of it. He had to get these people out of here. They'd all be slain or suffer or worse. But what the hell could he do? He concentrated on gathering rain. Perhaps a bad turn of weather would disperse the crowd without drawing undue attention to himself. Then his manipulations, only in their beginning stages, were cast aside. He looked up to Madame Zorba looking straight at him in bare recognition. Silken broke the gaze, turned and ran. Several of the performers in unison ran after him. I'm not going back there! No! I'm not going back to Inferno! Dear Gods NO!! The Beast seemed to concur with this idea and made him run all the faster. He was running across the square, and up one of the many streets. He glimpsed 'Raelf and another woman talking to others as he ran past, but didn't even say anything. He just desperately wanted to get out of here. To escape. To flee. Then, he remembered the vision he had had when he had just escaped the Inferno. He recalled the black robed man calling forth the plane of Tangthara. He remembered Iglyarch was involved with this whole affair. He put two and two together. These Demons chasing him were from the portal. The portal was in Saelex Keep. Silken had to go to Saelex Keep. He had to stop the black robed bastard, whatever his name was. In a quick, fluid motion, Silken came to a halt, drew his sword and turned on the oncoming demons. They didn't look very human any more. They were ready for a fight. Silken's sword at the ready, his vampiric powers at the ready. There were seven of them, one of him. "Just the odds I like ", he smiled to himself. The demons approached more cautiously. "Silken, vampire Silken, we can help you Silken. Come with us Silken, Come home Silken. The Master really would like to talk to you ..." Silken faced down the demon trying to sway him. "Oh really, would he?" He leapt into the air with his supernatural speed and flew above the seven Demons. They howled in barely human voices and leapt up after him into the darkness. Silken engaged the first by suddenly dropping like a stone instead of retaining heigth. His sword came down in a clean motion, deftly cleaving the chest of his opponent open. He was down below them, flying at low altitude just above street level, he emerged outside the Guild of Wizards. There was nobody below, so he landed, seeking to hide and wait for the demons. Looking around, he saw an alleyway. He ran over to it, and saw several nice corners he could hide behind. He took a step, then heard sounds behind him, like chiming bells or something similar. Expecting Demons, he was surprised when he saw several mages standing there. They wore various colours of robes and looked nervous, worried. He looked into their faces. Something about .... there was a blonde haired woman there. He knew her. He'd seen her in dreams. She was the one who shouted with no voice at him in the dream. Slowly, Silken came out of the shadows. She saw him. He saw her. Both looked at each other in frank amazement. -- 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 MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: conner@qucis.queensu.ca (Mike Conner) Subject: Re: HAPPY BIRTHDAY A.P.D-I Message-ID: Date: Tue, 18 May 1993 14:54:40 GMT Well to be really technical about it Alt.Dragons-Inn was the first but that's a very long story and not worth getting into. Happy B-day! Chalmers (alt.pub.cloven-shield) __ __/ \ Michael Conner / \__/ Computing And Information Science - NO MORE SECRETS - \__/ \ Queens University \__/ conner@qucis.queensu.ca MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: mwhitaker@cix.compulink.co.uk (Mike Whitaker) Subject: Re: A strange arrival Message-ID: References: <1t9g2i$mif@cwis.isu.edu> Date: Tue, 18 May 1993 12:57:13 GMT Her eyes follow him back to his seat. "Jessica?" She thinks for a moment, tries to force herself to remember. "No." Hands reach for the whisky glass, hold it clasped tight, elbows resting on the table. "No." Her voice is more sure this time. "Not Jessica." She rests her forehead against the cool surface of the tumbler. "Then *who*?" The glass slips from her hands and falls with a bang to the table. Surprisingly it doesn't break, but its contents spill over the wooden tabletop, and as she makes a half-hearted grab at it, it rolls off the table and shatters into jagged shards on the floor. Heads turn at the sound. She stares down at the broken glass, then looks up, expression bleak, at the faces looking in her direction, and raises her voice, a ragged contralto with desperate hope in its tone. "Does anyone here know who I am?" -- [ADMIN] Needless to say, I do know who she is, and I doubt anyone else does. Once she remembers her name I'll toss a description/personality towards the keepers of such things. Note I post from two different accounts. -- Mike Whitaker +44-223 | mikew@ug.eds.com (preferred) \ Me: Bards just Shape Data/EDS 371565 | mwhitaker@cix.compulink.co.uk \ KNOW things... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [BDAY] [MG] [SORC] Party Time People Message-ID: Date: Tue, 18 May 1993 07:32:15 GMT On the edge of Merchant's Hill, a narrow street ends at what used to be the mouth of a cave. A smallish mansion slid down the hill a few years back, by some miracle mostly undestroyed, and it had been rebuilt with the cave behind it and the front facing the docks. The faint bluegreen line of the horizon showed tonight, the sunset long gone and the colors brilliant. There was a sign on the front over the door: Ale House - and two brilliant scarlet lights blazed at each side of the entry walk. Tables were set out in the small yard, and a few kegs of the cheapest but least toxic ale were being slowly drained by the sailors and passers-by as they toasted the health of Melwis the Wise for giving away the free booze. Not that the bar inside was suffering too greatly. There were plenty of people spending money on the minor games of chance, and watching the shows, and taking advantage of the unusually friendly cuddle-girls that evening. Fireworks sounded in the distance, the first warning shots that led the crowds to gather outside and watch the show. The barge was out in the bay, smoke trailing up to the skies. A flash and a trail of smoke and the first of the chrysanthemum blooms appeared in the skies over the bay. There were several more flash-booms, and the skies began blooming with light. They went on for quite a while. Wizardry has its uses, and pyrotechnic displays are one of them. Most of the people with any sense took the children home to bed when the fireworks ended. Cries of "aww, can't we just stay up just this once?" were generally quashed and the exhausted parents collapsed shortly after. But not everyone had small offspring to drain their energy, and for them the party continued on. * * * "C'mon, Kev, let's GO!" The Little Rat was losing patience quickly. "Kev, hurry up, da sparklin's is gonna start when it gets dark and we gotta get down dere so's we gets some eats before!" "I ain't ready yet, I gotta put my shoes on!" "Shoes," Little Rat sniffed in disgust. "You been hangin' 'round da rich folks too long. In da Low City you only wear shoes if you wanna have dem snached. You is gettin' too soft." "Huhn UH!" Kev protested. "I don't wanna get da green stuff growin' on my foot, 'member I cut it out in da garden," he grunted, pulling a shoe on over his foot. Kev was about a year younger than the Little Rat, from the looks of him, and way more innocent, but then he had the advantage of having parents up until a few weeks ago. Little Rat didn't remember her mother, and her mother hadn't remembered who the father was. Gutter life was not kind in Generica's Low City. "OK, I be ready." Little Rat decided that Kev was just never goin' ta get it. She was still wearing her faded blue tunic that had been cut down from a grownup's discarded rags, from a batch that had been carefully patched and handed out to the worst-off of the street kids by the Priestesses of Aditi. Kev, though, was wearing a stupid-looking black tunic with no arms on his skinny body, and big funny looking short pants, and shiny black boots with big weird strings that held them from falling off. And he had that stupid board with wheels that 'Raelf had given him. Little Rat did NOT like the board with wheels, 'cause it kept sliding out from under her feet. "C'Mon den, let's go!" Little Rat had made a rope out of the sheets of of Kev's bed (what a softie - she preferred to sleep on the floor in her room on a little mat). They waited until the grownups were gone from the big room, and snuck out into the garden She tied the rope to a rock and tossed it over the wall, then tugged at it - the rock caught on the top of the wall and she sent Kev up first "Cause you're littler and it won't hurt as much if you fall." He seemed to believe her, because he went right up, but then he made her hand up his stupid wheel board before he would hold the rope for her to climb. Then on the other side, they ran down the pathway into town - the late afternoon sun was still shining on them as they reached the Bazaar and the beginning of the party. "Wait!" Kev was saying. "Didja see that sign? Ol' Melwiss is givin' food away for free!" She had seen the sign, but like most Low City kids, she couldn't read. "Huh? What's wrong wif it?" Little Rat asked, deeply suspicious of anyone offering anything "free". "Nuthin'. He's just cracked in the nog, throwin' a big party. If we sneaks in we can get some rich-folks eats." Little Rat was still skeptical, but she decided to follow and see what happened. At least she could keep Kev out of trouble. They made their way through the bazaar, Kev hopping on and off of his stupid wheel board and making it slide along the board walkway. It was awful noisy, and he got a few glares, but most of the folks were in party moods, and hardly anyone took a swipe at them. Besides they were quick, so they were gone by the time anyone noticed. The food down at the Fish Market was pretty good too, no white worms 'cept in that one guy's bottle of hooch, an' the naked ladies from the cuddlecribs was all dressed up for bein' outside, an' Little Rat made Kev pay for their "sammidges" by carryin' glasses from the tables up to the big bucket where the dirty stuff was bein' washed. But the sammidges were still pretty good an' no white worms in anything. Kev explained that rich folks had servants who looked for white worms for them, an' tossed the food in the big trashbins if they had any, which Little Rat pondered for a moment and then decided the rich folks was stupid for getting the food if they was gonna let it get white worms in it. "Look, jugglers," Kev said, pointing at a group of wandering men and women wearing bright clothes and throwing things at each other, and catching them and throwing them back before they could get hit. "Watch out for that big one on the end," Little Rat said, wisely, recognizing Kruft The Pinchpurse from two neighborhoods over. He wasn't very nice; he liked to beat up on kids who hung around his corner, said they scared off the custom. Usually he just juggled and sang by himself, but when he sang too long the carters would start tossin' road apples at him so he just juggled mostly. "Hey, Little Rat," Kev said as the sun began to set, "Are we gonna stay out here all night?" "No," she said reluctantly, "But I did wanna see the sparklies." "Me too," Kev said, "Do ya s'pose they're better from up on the hill - we could watch from the wall." "Oh." Little Rat thought for a minute. "Yeah, I s'pose so." They started back up towards the Bazaar, weaving in and out of the crowd, gradually getting back to the road going up. It was a little dark, but Little Rat could see fine, so she led the way. Kev stopped twice on the way to take rocks out of his boots and throw them hard down the hill, and once Little Rat heard a grunt of surprise, so she hurried them up so they'd get to the Lighthouse faster. "Who'd ya hit?" she asked, as they climbed the last bit of the trail. She figured out that they'd been followed, and just hoped it wasn't some Crazy Charlie like the Gutt Man or Hairy Alice. "Old Rameshi guy with perfume on his beard," Kev answered and started climbing up the sheet rope. "He started followin' us at the Bazaar, I think I got him good tho." "Haul me up, quick," Little Rat said, and they got up to the top of the wall in time for the first BANG! from the bay. * * * "Where am I? For that matter, WHO am I?" "Think. What is the last thing you remember?" "I ... I was going to see Archmage Nescie, and ... Somebody tapped me on the shoulder." "Do you remember anything else? Relax and think." "No. Yes. There's a word, a name." "Say it." "'Raelf. Oh! I remember something now." "Tell me." "The stranger that was working for Urcohea, the one who helped reset the unmonitored power tap. He stopped me before I could go to Nescie's quarters, he and a woman I've never seen before." "What happened then?" "The woman's eyes, they were so strange, I saw something there, I saw myself there, being torn by hooks, being unravelled like a bad sweater and the yarn burned away." "What then?" "They, uhm, kissed me. It was very strange." "They just kissed you?" "I'm an old man, it's been a long time since two gorgeous young people found me interesting that way. No, they took me into a room and I lowered my wards and we, ahem. Well, we were intimate." "Tell me more." "I think, well, it wasn't like sex used to be. It was more like being eaten and eating them at the same time. There was a moment of pain, then it was incredibly intense pleasure." "And then?" "And then I remember telling myself to forget, to go on to the place where I had been going." "What happened after you left?" "I'm not sure. I remember being held, like when I was younger and when I'd spent a night making love, just holding my lover and sleeping." "And then you woke up here?" "Yes. No, first I met a pretty woman with an ankh. Where is here?" "This is the heart of your home." "That name, 'Raelf. I think it's my name. But I used to have a different name?" "Yes. You are 'Raelf het ae 26. Twenty-sixth of the undiluted line of Hunters of clan 'Raelf. I am your, well, great-grandsire." "But I was already born. Or, part of me. I don't feel the same." "You've been reborn. Your sire left you some memories. When you feel more confident you can go through them. First, though, you need to get used to your body." "What does it look like?" "Your eyes haven't opened yet, you're still a kitten. It'll take a little time before you're ready. You hungry?" "A little." "Here. Suckle on this." "Warm. It's Fire, isn't it? And Water and ... I recognize this, it's pure elemental matrix. Yummy. What do I look like, Gran'da?" "You have a silver stripe, and other than that you look just like your sire looked when he was just a newbud." "A silver stripe. I like silver, it's a good color. `A star of mercurial light shone silver to my sight' ... I'm tired now. Should I sleep? Somehow sleep doesn't seem safe to me now." "You can sleep just a little bit. You'll outgrow it soon. I'll guard you til then, so you just lay back and relax." "'nite, Gran'da." * * * There was dancing in the streets around the Town Square market, every notable minstrel and player was invited to perform there, and to perform for Melwiss the Wise at his private tent, if the wandering judges found them sufficiently skilled. The northern edges of the crowd were skirting the river bank. There were built-up levees and dikes which had been partly damaged and shored up during the recent storm, but in general the area was clean and well lit by the festive wizard-lanterns with their showers of colored sparklers. While the fireworks were blooming in the western skies, the area had filled with people seeking the view, but afterwards, they had gone back to the Square where there was plenty of food and drink. A tallish man walked light-footed towards the Square, gently swinging the fat purse in his hand - the Honorable Miss had liked his love poetry, and so he had come away much wealthier from their tryst. Too bad, her fiance' had to be there to spoil things, but he HAD liked the poems, and especially the effect they had on the Hon. Miss, so he'd come off like a bandit. Yes, Parsifal Lucas was in good form tonight. An acrobat came cartwheeling by, spinning up and around him, and looked him in the eye. The heavy makeup made the face unrecognizable, and the spare angular body could have been male or female. The harsh mocking laughter that came from the whirling figure gave no hint of gender, either. The acrobat whirled to a stop in front of him, and with splayed fingers raised to its artificial nose, it sprayed him with a thoroughly juicy raspberry. "Hey, you dancing bastard," he shouted, and it stopped, making a moue of exagerrated, appalled horror. "Oi knows wha' YOU wan's" it sneered. "YOU wan's a goud LAY!" "And what's wrong with that?" Pars sneered. "Oi knows 'ow to gets 'em for yer." "What, you?" he laughed. "Yeh, me. You gifs me wot Oi wan's an' Oi gifs you wot YEW wan's" "Tell me more," said Pars, approaching. The acrobat's eyes grew red and Pars felt a lurching ripping sensation, and a curious detachment as a yawning pit opened beneath him and he started to fall into the red of those eyes. Suddenly the acrobat's eyes turned back to their piss-yellow and opened wide, and a look of shock crossed its face, as behind him he heard a and a muttered curse, and he whirled, his concealed wrist-stiletto dropping into his hand. There on the street sat a smoking body, making a giggling noise punctuated by groans. He came closer - it was a satyr, a big one, a half-head taller than he, brown skinned and yellow-haired, with a pair of pan-pipes which it brought to its lips. "Wanna dance?" It began piping, a jig, and Pars felt his feet begin moving, a wild lightness overtaking him, and he started capering around the street better than he'd ever done before. The acrobat was dancing too, but it was screaming imprecations, and the satyr gave it a downright evil look, and began playing a second tune interleaved with the first and as it whirled, its acrobats' harlequin suit began to shred and it bloated and hulked, and Pars caught glimpses of its demon-face as he spun around, grabbing the hands of other men and women who had come in to hear the piping and been swept up in the spell. They were dancing in a circle now, the men and women, around the satyr and the demon, and the demon was spinning in place like a dervish, smoke coming up from its feet where they touched the ground. The song stopped abruptly, and the people sagged, seeing the demon in the center of the circle still spinning helplessly, and a low menacing whisper came from the satyr: "They're mine, little Neph scut," and he stood and reached out, stopping the demon's spin by putting one brawny arm on it's shoulder. It fell to its knees, face level with his, and he kissed it on the lips, and it spasmed in pain and began moaning, then it popped like a child's soap bubble. The satyr grinned, blood on its teeth, and spat out something like a black hairball, which he ground beneath one hoof. The people who had danced were still in the rest-position, but Parsifal found he could move, and came cautiously into the center by where the satyr stood. "Thank you, sir Satyr. You saved me from something hellish." "So I did. You can repay the debt, my friend, by bringing me three full wineskins and a half a roast fowl from the market up there, and bring back some drummers as well, and I'll just have some more music in the mean time." The satyr patted his shoulder affectionately and gave him a gentle shove towards the street. Pars felt his feet moving almost of their own accord as he ran towards the town square, while behind him came the stirring notes of another, wilder dance, and the sounds of dancers singing and laughing. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Waste of Time Message-ID: Date: Tue, 18 May 1993 07:38:38 GMT Rook snarled and jackrabbit-punched. The troll gasped and let go of her shoulder while it grabbed at its wounded pride. "Keep your felchin' hands to yourself, gutterscut." She snatched the long thin dagger from her bootsheath, and wove a pattern in the air with the gleaming tip. A human who had been recipient of such a blow would still be writhing on the floor. The troll, recovering from the crippling blow with the astounding speed of its unnatural race, still didn't enjoy the sensation. It blinked, wet-eyed, and focussed on the weaving tip of the dagger. Its large hairy nostrils flared, the stink of trollbane anointing the dagger was unpleasant in the extreme. "Skrud sorry. Skrud leave now." The troll backed away, tripping slightly over the bodies of her erstwhile companions. It jumped up and fled down the hall. There was a crunching sound, the pit trap she had discovered and led her party around, and then there was a scream as the troll fell further into it, then the grating of stone sliding on stone as the trap reset itself. "Damn. All dead." She carefully searched each of the four bodies for signs of life, then for the pittance they were carrying. They all had the same agreement, and she knew they would have done the same for her. Three gold apiece, a couple magic keys, a compass arrow, and the last two healing potions. Five days down here, in the catacombs under the city of Argentwood, and all they'd found of the supposed lost treasure of Kings was the emptied chests and looted tombs that the thrice-damned trolls had moved into. She spat, then went to search the bodies of the dead trolls and their slave warriors. The dim light of the lichens on the tunnel walls was too faint to obscure the fading heat-signatures of the corpses, at least, for someone with her half-elven eyes. She searched efficiently, but the trolls were poorer than the gutter-dwarves back home in Generica. She sighed, flipped a coin, and went off in the direction she'd chosen as "heads". "Hello, lovely lady." She whirled. The shadows were thick here, but she had years of experience at seeing things that lurked therein, and besides that, her dark-sight should have shown him lurking there, but the bright slit of sunlight had spoiled it. She took an on-guard stance. Whoever this was, he was speaking an old dialect of Elvish, with a lilt that reminded her unpleasantly of some time spent in the Islands. "Oh, no, Rook, you don't need to be afraid of me. We're old friends." "Who the hell are you, and why can't I see you?" "You don't remember me? I'm hurt." He stepped into the light, fading into view: a middling-tall elf with golden skin and coppery hair, a blue stone bound onto his brow, twin swords at his sides. She had no recollection of ever seeing him before. "Who are you?" "I'm the one who saved your sorry ass from dissolving into a pretty pink cloud of bad karma, Rook my darling." He smiled, a predatory sort of a smile that made her nervous in the pit of her stomach. "'Raelf? Don't make me laugh, unseelie boy." She smiled, that had scored, from the scowl on his face. "Now is that any way to talk? You know how us wizards are, you can't ever tell from one minute to the next just who we'll be, now can you?" "Prove it." "Ah. Ask Scorpion about why his tattoo doesn't fade now." "Shit. You're real." "Of course I'm real. Now, how about we get out of this stinking sewer, my clothes are going to be ruined by the damp." "I'm headed for the rendezvous point - Blink will be waiting for me there." "Ah yes, your old cuddle-crib boy who never knows where he really is." "That's really rude, 'Raelf." "Oh, you can call me Orim for now. I don't want anyone making the wrong kind of connections yet." "Orim. If you say so." He took her hand, and made some sort of a gesture, and a hole opened in the air before them. He pulled her through, and on the other side were the rooms that she and Blink were sharing. Blink was lying on the bed asleep with a faint smile on his lips. He didn't wake up when she touched him. "What did you do to him?" "Oh, nothing at all really. He's having a happy little dream, you know, like when he was on the 'stix back in Generica." "You gave him that shit? You son of a b..." She drew her smallest most potent poison dart from a secret pocket in her boot cuff, concealing the motion behind her pack as she bent to put it on the floor. She snapped the dart at him with a snarl. the dart shattered against his skin. He smiled again, and wiped the venom off with a silken kerchief. "Don't do that again, darling. I'd have to kill you, and there wouldn't be even the slightest chance that you could get away, Mother-spawned luck or not." He gave a sort of shrug, and the kerchief vanished in a small gout of flame. "Self-righteous bastard. You know that stuff will kill him." "Not a bastard, Rook my pet. Besides, your dear boy hasn't taken any real drug, I'm not a fool enough to waste his lovely talents that way. He only took an illusion of the drug. But you can feel happy, he's dreaming of you. Why did you turn him away from your bed?" "I didn't. He caught me with Nolrimm." "Oh, you had to try out the improved Hell's Angel? Was his extra endowment all that enticing? Or did you want someone who could tell you what to do? Must be very depressing for you, being with a man who can't tell you he loves you. Or has he worked out a signal for that?" "You are vile today. I don't know what I ever saw to respect in you." She sat on the bed next to Blink and began stroking his face, letting her hair swing forward to hide her face. "Oh come now, you're hardly one to talk. A power like yours and all you can think of to do with it is to gamble and to steal from people who can ill afford your attentions. 'Wasters' indeed." She looked around for something else to talk about. This was too much like what she'd been thinking herself lately. "Where's Scorpion and Nolrimm? They were supposed to be here." "Oh, I imagine they'll show up in a few minutes. But I had to talk with you first. I want to make an offer to your little crew, and whatever it is that Scorpion thinks, you're still the one who has the final say on anything you people do." "What makes you think I'd want to do anything with you?" "Why, money, of course. But consider what I said before, about your group wasting your powers on foolish things. I have a goal that would make you not just rich, but give you security, control, land, title, whatever you want. All you have to do is help." He smiled insincerely. "You want to go conquering," she accused. "In a manner of speaking. Raoh the Conqueror was just killed, but his realm still exists, and the beaurocracy he built over twenty years is in place. It's a ripe little plum for the right people to pick." He reached out and plucked imaginary fruit from out of the air, and handed it to Rook. "I'll have to think about it." She looked at the thing he'd handed her. It was a deep purple gemstone and it vanished with a *pop*. "Don't take too long. Scorpion and Nolrimm are on the stairs." "All right. I'll help you." "Good." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu (christopher motherway) Subject: [AU] Raykor takes a soul... Message-ID: <1FJR4B3w165w@cybernet.cse.fau.edu> Date: Tue, 18 May 1993 20:43:59 GMT ADMIN: I decided to throw a slight twist into the [AU] thread. But this will not directly alter it. It will just make it a tad more interesting for the [Housestroming]. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Evening had long settled over Generica. In the Dragon's Inn, the patrons were having their usual blast, singing, drinking, an occasional jig or two. Lance Wolf would usually love to get involved with such a wonderful time. But, tonight, he was dredfully tired. He and Blaze had traveled far for the day's bounty, and the horse-lag and saddle sores had made him weak. So, he and his mate decided to call it a day early; they had been sleeping for a good three hours now, despite the growing noises downstairs. Blaze slept, but not in the normal sense. This night, like many nights before, she more than let her mind wander in dreams. Tonight, she let her _soul_ wander as well.... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - *High above Generica, the city she has grown to love. Blaze was completely at ease. Although she was not matured enough to travel far as her soul-self, she was able to get high enough to see the horizons. The crystal blue sea, the ever-rolling hills, the forests far off. On clear nights, she could ever seen the mountains, and perhaps a glimpse of the Diamond Gate. This was how she had figured out were Kassandra was located. She could not see it, but from clues she was able to pinpoint the city and to recall it back in consciousness. She slowly floated down, locating Andrea's house. She stopped right in front of the front gate. She pondered a moment. Perhaps, if she searched the house as her soul-self, perhaps the "housestorming" would become more successful. She decided to give it a try. Suddenly, she began to get drawn into the house, by some strange force...an EVIL force! She recognized the evil immediately and tried to escape. She was drawn into one of the upper stories of the house, phasing through walls and doors, ceilings and floors.... All was dark. Much, much darker than the world Blaze sees whenever she lets her soul-self out. She felt evil all around her, concentrated right behind her. She turned around fast, and gasped at the face she saw. It was not too dissimilar from Raoh the Late Conqueror, but yet it was different. Blaze knew this was the face of the person's mind. And an evil mind it was. A deep voice came from the near-hooded face, snickering at first, the saying, "Well, well, m'lady. At last we meet!" "Who are you?" screamed Blaze. "Not important, my dear. I have been eyeing you for quite some time now!" "What do you WANT?!?" "You. More specifically, your power. You see, I sensed a strong magic around somewhere, and as soon as I felt it close enough, I nabbed it. Truth be known, I was not expecting a lady, but magic is magic." "Why have you done this? Why are you keeping me here, in your mind?" "Because your magical powers can help me destroy my enemies!" "And who are they?" "You need not know that, either. I will keep you here. You will, eventually get weak. After that, I will sap your power and force you to use it against my foes. Do not worry, my dear. I will keep you alive...for NOW!" Blaze grew scared. Her soul-self could not last very long outside its body. She had to find a way out fast. "Try to escape if you can. It will only make the wait for you to weaken shorter! HA-HA-HA-HA!" Blaze screamed. "That's what YOU think!" Then she let him have it! She concentrated on the strange face and blasted it with psycho-kinetic pain. She wished it would not come to this (she hated hurting anyone), but this was for survival! The effect was instantanious! The face screamed with agony, winced with pain. Blaze felt the magical "restraints" on her weaken. She kept it up until they slacked enough for her to try an escape. "NO!" the face screamed, "NO! I WILL _NOT_ BE DENIED YOUR POWER...AARRRRRGGGH!" Blaze bolted, not caring which direction. She did not see where she was going, but, as luck would have it, weak as she was, she arrived back at her host body.....* - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Blaze awoke with a gasp and a start. She was sweating a lot, and her heart was pounding a mile a minute. When Blaze awoke and sat upright, it awoke Lance just as fast. He saw his love panting and sweating. He quickly got up and said, "Blaze? Blaze! What happened? Are you all right?" Blaze said nothing. She started to cry and she embraced Lance fiercely, sobbing into his chest. Lance understood. She had seen her awake this way several times. He simply stroked her hair and said, calmly, "It is all right, beloved. It is all right." She continued to sob for quite some time. Lance could do nothing but confort her. He knew she would tell him in due time what had happened. MagicHutchHeader From: bshsiung@quip.eecs.umich.edu (Bernard Hsiung) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Fireworks and other's works Date: 18 May 1993 21:34:03 GMT Message-ID: <1tbkob$po2@zip.eecs.umich.edu> The young mage stood on the barge in the middle of the river. His robes fluttered in a gentle breeze as he shaded his eyes to squint at the sun, just starting to set. Faint strains of music and the sound of shouting, laughing voices were barely audible this far from the docks. He looked at the shoreline, at the crowds by the water and in the tents, then at the woman he held in his other arm. "What'd you think, honey?" She giggled and snuggled against him. "Thanks for getting me assigned to this. It was a lovely afternoon. It's nice to be outside the Guild once in a while." He took a deep breath of fresh air, and smiled. "Yes, it is. It was easy. Don't tell anyone I said it, but Urcohea's an old softy, really." The gravelly voice of Galpois, the Guild pyrotechnics expert, came crashing upon them. "Dieter! Coral! Come on, you lovebirds, give me a hand with this, hey?" They walked to the other side of the barge, where Galpois was unpacking the last of his crates of Roman candles and rockets, both single- and multi-stage. Galpois, an immensely broad man with a flattened nose, smiled widely as they approached. "We're going to have quite the show tonight," he said. "Leonaco's authorized me to clean out the warehouse. Help me get them set up on the racks." Other than the racks for the rockets, there were already several braziers standing on deck filled with what looked like flash powders, whizzle strips, and other peculiar concoctions. A few of them burned with flames of unnatural colors, and still others gave off clouds of thick smoke. These last ones were tended by Linrik, an illusion-master. The sunset gave way to twilight which turned into dusk as they finished their preparations. Galpois and Linrik talked about what they had already planned out for the evening. They were just about to start the performance when a faint humming noise became apparent. They searched for the cause of the noise, Dieter drawing his wand cautiously and moving it slowly in a circle. It quivered as he pointed it at one of the burning braziers. Then, an unnatural wind lifted a single wave that knocked that brazier over. Linrik grabbed at it, but missed, and its contents and the water sluiced into the barge's muddy gutter. A powerfully built blond-haired man who wasn't there seconds before stepped carefully over, or perhaps out of, the newly-created mess and grinned at the group of mages. "You're 'Raelf," Dieter said, reversing his wand and returning it to its sheath. "Bingo, Dieter m'boy. Right first time. But you can call me Ollex for now. I'm here to help you out with the fireworks." "How do you know who I am?" Dieter asked. "Easy. Records. As part of my contracted investigations in the Guild, I have partial clearance, so I've seen the Guild register." "The Guild register is huge! We must have hundreds, if not thousands, of mages on file." 'Raelf, or Ollex, tapped his head and smirked irritatingly. "I have perfect memory, Coral, m'dear." "But we weren't expecting anyone else," Galpois protested. "Of course you weren't. I'm here on my own time. I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart. And to make sure you get it exactly right." He waved a hand lazily at Linrik, who disappeared abruptly with a popping noise. Dieter's hand dropped to his wand again as he stepped in front of Coral. "What happened to Linrik?" he said in a serious tone of voice. "Don't worry, kiddo, he's fine," he said, yawning. "You Security folks should relax more. I put him back in the Guild. You don't need an illusion-master now that I'm here. I can do that." "But Linrik was supposed to help me with the display tuning," Galpois protested. "You've got me." Again the aggravating smirk. "Whatever he can do, I can do better. And it'll be real. Not illusion. I do like the real thing more, don't you?" Galpois grudgingly gave in, with the condition that if the work was unsatisfactory, he would call Linrik back. He sent up the first few rockets, the ones to let the revellers know that the display was starting, then the first starbursts. The blond man looked into the sky. "That's not impressive enough," he said. He curled the fingers of his hand upwards like he was grabbing something from below. He made a twisting motion, and the bloom of fire far above seemed to pause as if he had caught it in his grip. He spun his hand the other way, and it collapsed, then spiraled outward an order of magnitude brighter than before. "Much better." Galpois frowned slightly, but let it pass without comment. Much of the rest of the display was like that, his expansions and improvements implemented without even bothering to consult Galpois about had been planned. Dieter had to admit that he was pretty good and highly skilled too but, even so, he thought that perhaps the fireworks might have been better yet had they worked out beforehand what they had wanted done, together. Galpois appeared to grow ever more subtly annoyed as the display proceeded, but he never seemed to quite reach the point where he felt that he had any real complaints, since he didn't say anything. Eventually, they sent up the last set of rockets. Ollex ended the display with an air-splitting bang and an incredibly bright flash of light that split the night wide open. Galpois appeared to have finally decided what to say and opened his mouth to give him a piece of his mind. But Ollex grinned, smugly cat-like, and slowly began to fade out, all of him except his smirk, which hung suspended in the air by itself. He said "One last thing. Remember this, Dieter m'lad: it's more important than you can possibly imagine. Whatever you do, don't you dare say the name `Mar'." Then the smirk winked out and he was gone. Coral looked at Dieter with a puzzled expression. "Now, what in the world did he mean by that?" "I don't know," Dieter said, scratching his head. "I've never heard of anything or anyone named Mar." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: pope@physics.su.OZ.AU (The Nightstalker) Subject: Re: HAPPY BIRTHDAY A.P.D-I Message-ID: <1993May19.000912.19341@ucc.su.OZ.AU> Keywords: archives References: <1sst6u$huu@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> <1tacd5$3v7@wampyr.cc.uow.edu.au> Date: Wed, 19 May 1993 00:09:12 GMT Yes, we are one year old. I thought that it was a good idea at the time, but to do so well. Happy adventuring. Nightstalker.... -- Mick Pope, | "On Christ the Sir Frank Packer Dept of Theoretical Physics, ----|---- solid rock I School of Physics, University of Sydney, | stand, all other Sydney, Australia, 2006. (02) 692 3241 | ground is sinking | sand." - C. Wesley | No Christ, No Life. Know Christ, Know Life. And the comment for today is: How can you tell if a politician is lying? Their lips move. - Max Headroom. MagicHutchHeader Date: Wed, 19 May 1993 08:44:33 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93139.084433ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BDAY] Luthor's Dance With Death It was a warm evening. Luthor leaned out the second floor balcony of his elevated tree house. He was alone now as the others had left to join the celebration in town. They had asked him to go, but he said that he wanted to watch the sunset before partying. Knowing his love of beauty, they did not question his decision. Soon after they left, he let his defenses fall. His face left its usual-smiling state reshaped itself into a look of utter lonliness. Yes, he had friends and even a companion, but they were not Rachel, his wife. She was burried somewhere in the High Forest, on another plane of reality, dead for one year. Luthor's BLACK cloak waved continuously, fluidly, in the ocean breeze. The setting sun, briliant in its orange-red state, only reminded him of Rachel's summer gowns. He could hear her laughter as she danced bare- footed in the new grass of spring. Her black hair flowing around her just as Luthor's cloak did now. In the turns of her dance, he would occasionally catch a glimpse of her ice blue eyes and brilliant smile. Luthor turned his eyes from the setting sun. Its now-golden hue matched the memory of Rachel's skin. Oh, what joy they had shared under the open sky on an evening such as this! Unable to bare the loss, Luthor shut his eyes tightly, forcing out a bitter tear. "Luthor, I have returned to you," he heard. For an instant, he doubted his sanity, but he heard it again, "Luthor, I am here." He opened his eyes and saw the graceful form of Rachel on the balcony before him. She was wearing a thin blue gown of the finest silk. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders. "How...It can't be. You are dead." He said in pure wonder. He blinked his eyes a few more times; this had to be a hallucination. She was still there. "Luthor, we don't have much time. I have come to spend this evening with you." She raised her hands gesturing in her spell casting. He had always admired the way she turned the cold science of magic into a graceful form of art. Out of old habit, he twisted the forces of probability with her working of the Art to ensure a successful spell. With his magesight, he could see the power flowing into her. Her entire body was covered in magic. When she was finished, she flung her arms wide. A pause. Silence. Then, as if coming in from a distance, a single note sounded. It grew in volume until it was easily audible. Another note joined it, then a third. A smile graced Luthor's friendly face as he recognised the sounds of several string instruments tuning up...he knew what was to come. After a few minutes, he heard a wooden tapping sound. The instruments were silenced. Luthor bowed low to Rachel in a gesture of Elven courting, "My most graceous lady, I would ask you the honor of this dance." Still in the bow, he looked up to meet her gaze with a playful expression. "Most honorable lord, I would be delighted," she agreed. As soon as they joined in a position for the dance, the music boomed. It was a sweeping Elven waltz, a favorite of theirs. On warm summer eves, it or a score of other songs could be heard coming from their estate when they had the time and the magic to spare. They began the dance, keeping perfect time with the music. After all, they both had the blood of the Golden Elves in their veins, a race of beings whose sole purpose in life seemed to be celebration through the arts. Finding the balcony too restricting, they danced down the hallway, and then down the curving one of the ramps to the first floor. The music followed them as they moved; it surrounded them and moved through them, urging them on to throw off their inhibitions. As they twirled out the front door, and down the narrow ledge that lead from ShadeHaven, their gaze never broke. A combination of love, magic, and unerring luck kept their footing sure. They were in the streets now; joined by a few other Elven couples who took advantage of the flawless music and celebrated life through dance. The music swelled, compelling all dancers to stretch to new heights. Luthor lost his free will, surrendering to the magic of the music. He, Rachel, and a score of others danced from the Elven Quarter, through the darkening streets of Generica. Before them, crowds parted, stunned by the sourceless music and the ordered chaos of the dance: improvised, yet obedient to the law of the rhythm. As they passed people in the streets, probability went awry. A street urchin down to his last coin found a pouch of gold that no one missed. A ruffian's blade snapped as it struck the back of an unsuspecting blind beggar. A casually thrown rock struck the head of a Rameshander slaver, closing in on two children. A young man won back his week's pay as he rolled a tripple helix on dice weighted against him. The dice's owner could only stare in disbelief...they should have rolled a void. Strange things happen when ShadowMakers love. The song grew into a fury and then stopped. Luthor ended, frozen in a bow, Rachel in a curtsey. The crowd around them was silent for a moment, then thundering applause and cheering surrounded them. Slightly embarrassed, Luthor took Rachel by the arm. They casually walked to a vending booth for a glass of cider. Both were pleasantly tired and thankful for the cooling summer night. Their silence was unbroken for a few moments, then Rachel turned to face Luthor. "I must leave soon. I am here until the hour is done. When the town bells chime again, I must go." She dropped her eyes and folded her arms around herself. At that moment, a man stepped toward them from the shadows. He was a handsome lad with blond hair and sparkling eyes. As he approached, he smiled brightly, but there was something sinister in that look. He was dressed in high fasion, wearing a complex and tight- fitting silk suit that showed off his athletic frame well. "She could stay here. I have that within my power." The young man took off his plumed hat and sat beside Rachel. "Luthor, wouldn't that be grand. I could be alive again. I could stay here with you." She seemed to bubble with enthusiasm. "My dear sir, there is nothing that I desire more. To have Rachel back, to live here with me would surpass my dreams. I had always thought that I would have to wait until death to join her in the Dance..." Luthor was dizzy with excitement. "Then you want her to stay here?" the young man said gesturing to Rachel. "Yes, but surely something like this has its price..." Luthor was astounded by the thought. His head filled with images of the couple reunited. "Well, yes. There is a price, but I assure you that it is nothing compared to having her stay with you. A minor thing really...people would never know the difference..." The young man looked at Luthor with an honest smile, "Is it a deal then?" "Sir, as much as I want Rachel by my side, I must know the full circumstances of the deal before I agree." Luthor said still dizzy from the excitement, or was it something else? "Well, I leave her here for all eternity. In return, I take your life...now now, before you object, listen to the whole deal. I take your life, but I leave you here. You will be turned into a vampire so you can spend eternity with her. It is a second gift really...you will both be here forever, with each other...together...always." The young man looked at Luthor with kindness in his eyes. Luthor's head swam. At that moment, the town bells began ringing. Rachel turned to him and said, "Luthor, please...I don't have much time. In a few moments, they will send me back. I don't want to go, it's so horrible there. Just agree and we will be together. Being a vampire won't be so bad...you could be like that friend of yours, Kadrys. Please Luthor, say yes." Luthor forced him head to clear. Now he was sure that there was something terribly wrong here. He looked at his glass of cider and noticed a white powder swirling at the bottom...poison! He looked at Rachel for a moment as the bells rang on, then suddenly stood. His face flushed with hot anger. "You are not my wife. Rachel would never have agreed to spending eternity with me here. What about our son? Are we to abandon him in death while we dance around the here? You are no mother of my child." "Luthor, Please." She sounded desperate. The young man looked anxious. "NO! I will not hear your pleas any longer. I know you for what you are. You would have me agree to eternity with this temptress, eternally seperated from my true wife and son. I will have no part of it. Now, as we have no further business, I have a party to attend." As Luthor finished, he turned sharply. His cloak whipped around him, batting the Almost-Rachel in the face. An instant later, as the town bells struck the top of the hour, Luthor heard two faint *pop* sounds accompanied with the smell of brimstone. While his sanity held, Luthor walked quickly through the crowds, to the ocean. Once there, he sat in the sand and placed his face in his hands. Overhead, the fireworks began, but he didn't notice. Love and Peace and Desire, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: HAPPY BIRTHDAY A.P.D-I Date: 19 May 1993 18:30:12 GMT Message-ID: <1tdubkINNi2r@news.gac.edu> References: <1993May19.000912.19341@ucc.su.OZ.AU> In article <1993May19.000912.19341@ucc.su.OZ.AU> writes: > Yes, we are one year old. I thought that it was a good idea at the > time, but to do so well. Happy adventuring. > > Nightstalker.... > > > -- > Mick Pope, | "On Christ the > Sir Frank Packer Dept of Theoretical Physics, ----|---- solid rock I > School of Physics, University of Sydney, | stand, all other > Sydney, Australia, 2006. (02) 692 3241 | ground is sinking > | sand." - C. >Wesley > | > No Christ, No Life. Know Christ, Know Life. > And the comment for today is: > > How can you tell if a politician is lying? > Their lips move. - Max Headroom. > Well indeed, Mike. Bless your imagination. I, for one, will always be greatful for the Inn. Happy Birthday, people. One down, an eternity to go, eh? -Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur ****************************************************************************** Peace through strength! Victory through annihilation! Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [BDAY] [MG] Party Animals Message-ID: References: Date: Wed, 19 May 1993 19:58:36 GMT Parsifal Lucas was running down the street with light feet and a soaring heart. Behind him the dance music was beginning to take on a deeper, more earthy and sensuous kind of flavor, and he ran so he could complete his errand and get back in time. He overpaid for six sacks of wine, it wasn't the best but it was the best he could find, and he underpaid for a pair of roast fowls, and with uncommon good luck, he found a friend of his, a redheaded drummer who was called Karl after a second cousin who worked for the city. "Karl! Bring the band, there's a circle dance going on down the street by the river road and you wouldn't believe the women!" "Hey, I'm tired, Pars, and it's between sets. You sleep all day or what?" "Nah, just that the piper is _that_ good ... You ever hear panpipes played by a real satyr?" "Uh, no. Don't they sort of, well," he made a common and rude gesture. "Probably, who cares? If there's an orgy in the streets, I'll be happy to participate. Who appointed you priest of Issek anyway?" "Nobody. I can match you vice-for-depravity, I just wanted to know," Karl blustered, trying to cover for a nagging sense that his friend might be having more fun than he was. "Well, he asked me to bring some drummers, if I could find them. You could do worse, there were some pretty high-toned folks in that dance circle, the type that pay for good music. And you've already got paid for the night's work for Melwiss, right?" "You've got a point, so to speak. OK, I'll get Rhythm Song together and we'll meet you here in a few minutes." "Hey, I'm going back there now. I was sent on a `munchie' run." He mimed eating and Karl figured out the idiom, deciding he liked it. "Ok. How's he gonna pipe when he's eating?" "Good point. Loan me your tenor drum." Pars was jumping up and down with totally unconcealed impatience. "No way!" Karl stared at him in shock. Loan an _instrument_ ?? "I'll buy it off you." "With what?" "Here's ten gold." Karl stared at the handful of gold, remembering that Parsifal was not particularly wealthy - poetry didn't always pay well, and Pars was making a bit more on the side as a light work burglar and sometime gigolo, but.. "Hell, Pars, it's only worth five silver. Just one gold and I'll owe you." "Thanks, you're a pal. It's just down Genera street at the plaza where they had the fireworks-watching stands." "We'll be there." Parsifal grinned and nodded and sprinted away down the street towards the river. "Karl, who was that?" The girl who spoke was a new member of his group. Anna, she was called, and she had a xuthr in a case slung over her back and a long, ornately carved tambour-stick that doubled as a staff, in her left hand. "That's my sometimes friend Pars, he's one of the better folk. He says there's a hot crowd up that way, and a satyr who's got a way with the pipes." "Really? Sounds like fun. I haven't played with the forest folk since I came to Generica." She smiled a mischievous smile and strummed a riff on the tambour-stick with her free hand. Oom-ta-tiddleypom -pa pom. "Great. Let's get the others and ... oh, here they come." The two approaching were dressed in the same scruffy finery that was the mark of the street musician. They were identical twins, black-haired and blue-eyed men with well-schooled pleasant expressions that made their homely features look unusually attractive - that and some strategic carnival face paints. "Guys, there's a good crowd forming up at the River plaza, and Pars claims there's a satyr playing pipes who wants some drums for company. You in?" They looked each other in the eye and said in unison, "Sure, what's it pay?" "Just tips, but Pars says there's rich folks in the crowd." They shrugged and picked up their drumset between them - it was a big, heavy single piece of a log that had been carved and cured and carved again, a number of drumheads pulled over various openings. When they played it together the sound was like a rainstorm playing music. Karl picked up his gear-bag and the four of them went north up Genera street towards the river. They heard the drumming first, an infectious tarantella punctuated with the occasional addition of an ethereal piping that pulled it together into the kind of celebratory dance they'd done for weddings and successful business ventures. They came around the corner, and Karl had some serious misgivings, but his feet just kept moving, and the others didn't seem bothered by the way the people resting in the shadows were, well, groping one another without any sense of decorum at all. The circle-dance was still going on, and sitting on a stool in the center was a satyr, a big male with ruddy-bronze skin and golden hair curling on his head and legs. He gleamed with sweat from the exertion of his drumming, first one hand would rattle and blur above the drumhead, while the other brought the remains of a roasted fowl carcass to his mouth, and then he would change hands without breaking the beat to bring a half-filled wineskin to his lips for a long pull, followed by a perfectly timed pass with both hands, a stop, and the pipes would come up for a few moments. The music came to a stop, and the dancers broke the circle, going off in groups of two and three to the dark corners, talking and laughing and sometimes manhandling one another in a way that was sure to scare the horses. Karl somewhat hesitantly led the others forward. The satyr saw them and grinned an open, friendly smile. He beckoned them onward. "Welcome to the party, dudes! Come have a sit, you want something to drink? The wine's not the best but it's good enough, hellooo lovely lady!" Anna blushed and smiled. "Every one of them," she thought to herself, "they all have one thing on their minds." She took a pull on the wineskin he handed her, and felt the wine burning down her throat - this was MUCH stronger than she was used to. Her skin flushed and she coughed and handed the skin around to the other three. The twins liked it a lot, but they were half smashed already. They set up the drums and the instruments. While they were working the satyr began a slow, eerie piping, a haunting tune that kept the dancers and listeners attention. Karl noticed absently that nobody was wandering off to other parties, nobody was looking for a more private place, and some of what was happening was certainly not suited to the hard cobbles of the road, but the participants didn't seem to mind. He watched some more, a sort of lazy heat spreading from the pit of his stomach. There were some fascinating new positions being tried to the haunting music. "What's your group called," the satyr asked him, and he snapped out of the half-trance and noticed there was a strong warm hand on his shoulder. He touched the hand, and it moved into a warm handshake. "We'e, hmm-M!, sorry. We're called Rhythm Song." He carefully looked the satyr in the eyes, trying not to stray down the satyr's muscular, animalistic body, feeling a bit disturbed by the still-rising heat running under his skin. "What do you want us to play?" "I don't suppose you know any R.E.M. No? Well, we'll fix that." The satyr smiled and pulled him close, and a momentary panic died as their lips met. He felt the heat surging again, overriding his objections, and his head suddenly exploded with sound: drums, bells, lutes, horns, guitars, the music of a thousand worlds falling into place around him, more instruments and songs than he thought anyone could hold. A gentle sort of insanity walked through his brain for a moment and everything went black, then his eyes opened and the satyr was no longer holding him, but instead, was in a passionate kiss with Anna, his hands roaming across her body as she stood motionless. Karl watched with a detached sort of pleasure, his skin was tingling all over and his head was throbbing just above the temples, but it was a pleasant sort of ache. He rubbed the sore parts absently and felt a pair of lumps there, tender but kind of rough, and the pain subsided to a quiet itchy sensation. Anna swayed in place as the satyr abandoned her for the twins, taking one in each arm and accepting the stream of wine they poured from the wineskin into his mouth, then he pulled them close and they returned his embrace with a stunned sort of ecstasy. Karl watched her breathing, admiring how she moved, and wondered why he hadn't gone for her before. But then he felt his legs folding under him, and his hands began wandering across his drumset, a mindless repetitive rhythm growing more complex as he added more drums, playing out the music he heard growing inside, sending the heat out into the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the satyr grinning and letting the twins collapse onto their drum, while Anna pulled her xuthr from its case. She began to hum a tune, the sounds crowding in her mind settling down into a single thread as Karl laid down the base notes on his drum set. Her voice rose into a pure tone arching over the top of the music kitelike, and words took shape; Shining people, happy people ... The satyr grinned even wider and began making motions as of playing a lute or a mandolier, and a growling twanging sound like a kitarron but loud, distorted, began to fill the air as he played his imagined instrument, and the sound of the instrument wove under and over the crowd and around the pure bell tones of the xuthr, and the twins began to chant: huu huu huu huu, the dancers in the dark corners arose from their pastimes and began dancing again, a rhythmic wild dance but it was restrained, each staying where they were standing, and the satyr started singing in a thready but strong tenor, Anna's voice weaving in, Shining happy people everywhere, (Happy people) Shining happy people laughing. Karl felt the words coming into his throat and he sang them with a controlled abandon: Everywhere you look, People, people. ... * * * Melwiss the Wise had chosen five of his servants to go out through the crowd, to bring the best of the musicians to his tent. Strangely enough, the third of these was his manservant Hector. Strange because Hector was stone-deaf, an advantage when Melwiss was negotiating with his confidential business associates. Hector knew little about music, but he did know that the best musicians drew crowds. So he followed the growing crowd north on Genera street. Hector was an old man, and he'd seen many things in the years he had travelled with his master. Nonetheless, he did not expect what he saw there. The plaza was packed with people, maybe hundreds of them, wild-eyed with some easily expressed emotion, most of them naked or wearing only the briefest of clothing, dancing and singing along with the music, or so he assumed, being unable to hear them. They didn't seem to notice him. They were watching the center of the plaza, where a small clear area held five musicians, a big gold satyr and four smaller ones, one red-haired with green eyes that held the forests in them, one a female with gold hair and a wanton smile, two black-haired and grinning ferally as they jumped around a compound drum - he recognized the drum, it had belonged to a group he had seen earlier and recommended, but they'd not come at the summons. Stolen instruments? Perhaps the Guard should be notified. A body moved through the crowd, pushing through, and fell out at his feet. It stood, a half-clothed man, laughing and brushing dust off as he pulled his breeks up to cover himself. He looked at Hector and said something, his lips shaping the words "get more wine" and he patted Hector on the shoulder and sprinted towards the Town Square. Hector stared after him - he had looked quite strange. His body was covered with faint tiny scales, in iridescent patterns, and he had a serpentine kind of grace when he moved. Beautiful but inhuman. Hector decided that this must be reported. Melwiss should know, at the very least. He gave one more glance over the crowd, looking more carefully, and seeing more than one who was unusual - a face with a feline cast to it and slitted eyes here, there a body with fine white fur that had looked at first like a tunic, over there a man with feathers instead of hair, and wings from his back. All the crowd looked young, fit and attractive, yet at the same time decadent and more debauched than the wildest Founder's Day party would cause. He saw a face, then, a woman he'd known for years, but she was his age, perhaps this was her daughter? He moved closer and felt a strange throbbing in his bones - the drums were being pounded in a driving rhythm and he could feel the vibrations, fascinating. He moved closer, to feel the sound better, and it grew stronger, compelling. He felt light, an energy he hadn't felt in years, rising in response to the thrumming sensation. He moved to the edge of the crowd and was drawn in. MagicHutchHeader From: whitaker@tlshpp7.mdcbbs.com (Mike Whitaker - SDL) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [Redhead] A strange arrival Date: 19 May 1993 20:01:50 GMT Message-ID: <1te3ne$rp5@suntan.eng.usf.edu> References: <1t9g2i$mif@cwis.isu.edu> Silence. Then a few mutter "No"'s, in tones of regret, and a few more shake their heads, looking uncomfortable. Serene, having served the man in green robes and black mail, comes over to the red-head, sets down a fresh drink, for which the girl pays, fumbling awkwardly though her pockets for the handful of coins, and then Serene carefully clears up the broken glass and wipes up the spilt whisky, treating the brooding girl to a soft smile. The bard begins to play, a gentle ballad, an old lovesong with a chorus that is familiar to a goodly few. The red-head turns to watch, drink in hand, and listens attentively, the rest of the inn forgotten. By the third chorus, voices have picked up the words and tune, and hers is one - a smoky, throaty alto with a raw edge of emotion, which has its home in inns and bars like this. The song ends, the bard switches to the flute, and she turns sadly back to the table, head again pillowed on her arms, watching the play of lamplight in the golden liquid in the glass. "I remember. They wouldn't let me sing." She drains half the glass in a single gulp, not caring that a goodly part of it spills down the front of her blouse. "Bastards." -- Mike Whitaker +44-223 | mikew@ug.eds.com (preferred) \ Me: Bards just Shape Data/EDS 371565 | mwhitaker@cix.compulink.co.uk \ KNOW things... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [Party] Kadrys & Kardia: Unholy Communion Message-ID: <1993May19.153527.16531@data-io.com> Date: Wed, 19 May 1993 15:35:27 GMT [ADMIN: This is a combinatorial post created by Andrea Evans and I] --------- "And here all I was hoping for was a kiss in the moonlight..." A moment of delighted disbelief, then Kadrys' chuckling joined her own quiet laughter. He loved the impudence, the wit of her remark. After they both calmed, his mental voice murmured *** The surprises tonight are _not_ all on one side. *** Kardia felt the warmth of his sincerity all around her like the sound of his laughter had surrounded her, held her. *** An - offer - like yours was the very _last_ reaction I expected after my true nature was revealed to you. Loathing, disgust, revulsion would have been entirely reasonable. Many would have run from me at once, in mortal terror. I was also quite prepared for hatred, for you to try to use that shawl of yours on me. I was ready to do some running of my own; better that than stay and fight you for my life. But no. Instead, you freely gave me some of your life. Expecting nothing but pain in the process. Expecting... *** He trailed into silence. A sense of wordless astonishment, more, of incomprehension. When Kadrys resumed, his voice was soft, almost stunned. *** You thought there was a chance that the act of feeding might be all that was needed to make you a vampire. This is _not_ a fate you desire. And yet ... And yet, believing this to be possible, you _still_ offered yourself to me. *** The silence lasted longer this time. Kardia felt an ache within her like tears unshed. *** I am incapable of such... *** His voice faded, but his emotions poured over her in a confused rush, completing the sentence not with one word but with many. Incaution. Self-sacrifice. Generosity. Recklessness. Courage. Innocence. All of these and more in a single wordless pulse of conflicting meanings. Kardia's reply was similarly wordless. An image of Kadrys, dwarfed by the hulking might of the demon, but nevertheless attacking it with absolute ferocity. The image was backed with an undercurrent of awe, terror for her own life, terror for him and, below, deep below, rage at herself for not being able to do anything other than hold up a wall. Then came her voice, amused and fond and wry with self-knowledge. "Incapable? _I_ don't think so..." then softer, "I owed you, life for life..." A brief chuckle that carried a faint bitterness. *** That fight is beneath comparison with your offering. It was not the uneven match you seem to think. You only saw the demon's back as we fought. I was not striking there. *** The darkness surrounding Kardia vanished momentarily and she was given a vision of the demon as it had appeared to Kadrys' eyes, transformed to a complex collage of dark ichor-flooded muscles and veins by the vampire's sight. Even in the strangeness of his senses, she could see vividly the way its ribs had been crushed and wrenched apart, could even catch a glimpse of its heart, partially exposed and pulsing more vilely than any cancer. *** Lacking its claws, I had to batter my way in, which took a long time. Luckily, its gloating gave me the time I needed. Demons always take too much pleasure in the suffering of their victims. But the pain mattered little to me. Soon I would have completed my attack. Then we would have seen whether it could still fight after I had ripped its heart out... But this does _nothing_ to lessen your victory. I have not fought that type of demon in a very very long time, and circumstances were different then. I do not know whether it may have been able to regenerate its heart, or fight on without it. And as I have said, my strength was running low. Your attack was still very timely, still an act of great courage. *** "So was yours. No, don't deny it again. I don't _care_ if you were evenly matched or not. It would still have been much easier to run than to fight. It would've saved you a lot of pain from both the demon and your Curse. But you stayed. You could have always left me to it. You would've got away. It - it would have been more... _interested_ ...in me than in you." A wave of visceral nausea wracked Kardia as she imagined what that thing would have done to her. She stayed silent, fought her reaction down, but such a deep emotional response could hardly go unnoticed. Silently, Kadrys reached into the depths of Kardia's mind and memory, following the trace of that terror without her awareness, tracking it back to its sources as surely as a wolf follows the scent of its prey. There. She was young, barely a woman, on a world far from here... < Darkness, the soft cloth wrapped around her eyes a number of times, the bonds on wrist and ankles, connected by a chain that rings when she pulls up on her sore arms. It's worse that the bonds are so soft. She is trembling with fear and fatigue and hate. The fear overwhelms even the hate when she feels that rough hand on her breast again. They never make a noise when they take her this way, she knows it's so that she can't identify them if she is ever rescued. What makes it even worse is knowing that part of her longs for even that contact rather than the hours alone in darkness and silence. > And _again_! This time after her arrival on Nexus... < A night spent, restless on the rough burlap of a slave's bed, her whole body hurting from the day's work. A child cries and Kardia feels herself tension as she waits for the inevitable. The child keeps crying. The door opens and light streams in and Kardia's body is a tight arc of rigid anticipation. When the whip actually falls and the child screams she just curls into a tighter ball on her mat trying, futilely, to not gain the attention of the slave gang boss. The slash of the whip on her own flesh burns hot and bright. She holds onto the physical pain in order to ignore what the boss does to the rest of her, even as she hates herself for not fighting back... > He could see that this self-loathing, combined with her own uncertainty of her attraction to him, was much of the reason why the demon's words had cut her so deep. But there was more. He tapped into a rich lode of warm, loving memories. Glowing images of a tall, white-haired elf (surely the same she mentioned before). A sense of a name, Alistair, and the fierce intensity of love that only first-lovers ever know. Then, ending the stream, a single incident, seared into her mind more cruelly than a white-hot brand. < Screaming and explosions at the front of the house, Alistair turns, a blur of silver. "They are coming for you, dearheart. You *must* leave with Malcolm, or they will have won." She nods, torn between staying to help him with the family's final defense and belief that he is right. She is also frightened, a mix of fear for herself and fear for him, but he has always been so strong... She dives into Alistair's arms for one last hug and holds him tight. The feeling of his slender arms around her are a blessing in her fear. "Watch your back, love." she whispers softly, "If... if I can't be with you, to guard you from magic, please, please, please have Ragel with you. You know how vulnerable you are..." Alistair silences her with a kiss. Then nods and releases her reluctantly. "I love you." he whispers. Tears blur her sight, "I love you, Alistair... I love you." She leaves running... then there was only blackness... It bothers her, still, never knowing if Malcolm had been true to the end and died for her or if he had betrayed them as well. Waking to the nearly noiseless movement of the interior of a limo. The scent of rich leather mixes oddly with the scent of blood and cooked meat. The feeling of soft handcuffs locking her hands behind her back brings back old terror. She doesn't want to open her eyes, doesn't want to see. They haven't blindfolded her. They never intend her to be able to identify them to authorities. They are going to kill her. Finally, a rough hand lifts her head by the hair, a big palm slaps her on each cheek. She opens her eyes. Alistair's tarnished silver eyes stare back at her. His head sits on a bloody platter. Ragel laughs at her from behind it. "He was easy, without you." The rest is madness...> Kadrys aches with the shock of the sight, the sudden pang blending with the memory of her agony. His emotion is too intense to hide from her. Indeed, it takes all of his skill just to hide its true cause, make her think it is simply a reaction to her earlier words. Gods damned to Hell, that she should have known such horrors in her short life! He yearned to comfort her, show her he understood her complex griefs. But any such gesture would show her he had been searching uninvited through her most private memories, some she preferred to hide even from herself. He longed to erase the more savage memories, remove the bitter nights of sleeplessness and tears and self-recrimination forever from her mind. But he knew he had no right to do so. He knew that selfhood is the sum of experience, and in removing her memories he would alter her essential being. Then he saw something he _could_ do to help, and the ache receded. *** Kardia, _listen_ to me. I know what the demon said to you has hurt you. That was the sole intent behind its words. Demons are _liars_! It hoped its lies would wound you. Do you want to play along with it? Help its hopes become real? Because only you can. *** He laughed, a ringing laugh that spoke of both his scorn at the transparency of the demon's plans, and his pride in her resistance. Her confusion and wonder at the laughter were clear to him. *** No, Kardia. You are no slut, no puppet of a demon's cheap schemes. It turned its back on you. It believed its own lies about you. That was its greatest mistake. For you _proved_ its words untrue. You yourself broke the spell of its terror, a spell which I have seen hold many brave warriors helpless. And you did far more than that. You attacked it: you, whom the demon had thought already defeated. And then _you_destroyed_it!_ *** He fell silent, listened as she weighed his words with the sincerity she knew that he could not be faking. He was warmed by her astonishment and slowly-dawning delight at the acceptance that, yes, she had come to his help. She had broken past the barrier of her fear. With Kadrys all around her, believing in her courage and her sacrifice, she gradually allowed herself to believe as he did. No, she was no coward, and, finally, was strong enough to *do* something against her fear. The lightening of her heart was precious to him, soothing the ache of his sympathy for the many pains in her past. A sense of his wry, warm affection enfolded Kardia on all sides. The endless, starless night around her suddenly seemed as rich and soft as velvet. She breathed it in deep and sighed her wonder and relief out. *** Ahh, Kardia, silver spinner, delicate dreamweaver, *** he sighed, the sound distant, soft, faintly ironic, *** You have no idea how glad I am that you're not the hunter I feared you were when we first met... *** Light flashed suddenly, hotly from the spider's jewel eyes. Her hurt and anger were bright and fierce. "You thought I'd offer myself to you to trap you? What did you think..." Then she caught herself. The hurt still there, but muted, hushed. The bright eyes dimmed for a moment. Her betrayal of Alistair flickered hot through her memory along with the aching thought that she didn't deserve Kadrys' trust. "I... I have an idea. So... you found it impossible to trust me until this?" There was a wash of profound regret from him. But it was regret for her wounded feelings. There was no regret for his decision. His voice when he spoke was so bleak, so full of resigned acceptance of grief that it was pain to hear. Those bright jewelled eyes dimmed again under its weight. *** Yes. I am afraid I _do_ find it all but impossible, after all these years, to trust _anyone_. Even those I most desperately _want_ to trust... *** His mental voice dropped to a whisper, a bitter thread of sound. *** ...Even those I love. *** Then, firstly in words, then in a burst of sensations and images, he showed her just a little of what motivated him. < Long, long ago... Soon (as he had come to reckon time) after his death, there was a woman, a fighter. At first, they were friends, comrades in a quest. Then, rapidly, much more. Until the time she persuaded him to come with her to see her home town. She led him into a trap, decoyed him into capture by the city's priests. She came to him as he lay chained by wards, and told him she was one of the priesthood, had been sent by them to lure him to his death. She told him she hadn't expected to fall in love with him. But of course this had done nothing at all to stop her from betraying him, to torment and death. She had never meant to release him. But she had been in fighting gear so long she was unfamiliar with the trailing priestly robe. Its hem scuffed one of the lines on the floor, just enough to weaken the ward and allow him to get free. She had tried to prevent his escape, had raised the alarm. He only barely managed to get out alive, his eyes seared out of their sockets by the holy glare of their spells. His eyes had taken decades to regrow. His trust had never done so. From then on, he had made sure, one way or another, of the intentions of those close to him. > < A more recent memory than the first, but he was still very young. So young he was still helpless during the day, unable to rouse himself while the sun was in the sky. A flashing image: A woman's face, beloved, eyes he had Gazed into many times now filled with tears. She was bent over him where he lay, composed for slumber, the paralysis of the dawn already weighing down his limbs. The sound of her voice, dreamlike as he started the long slow slide into sleep, crying to him that she couldn't stand his pain, his accursed state, any longer. Sobbing brokenly that now he would at last sleep in peace. Kissing him in farewell. The pain as she raised the stake, pushed its point into his skin, her other hand trembling as she raised a rock to drive it home. The image was mercifully brief, cut before the blow, before the burst of agony. But that did nothing to blunt the emotional pain, the shock of betrayal by a loved one, one whose mind he had touched many times, had thought he would understand always. > *** Just promise me that you'll never weave any of your moonsilk magic webs for me, Kardia. They would be my shroud. For I am long, long dead. The Curse is all the life I will ever have now. The Black Cord has replaced the Silver. Nothing can change that. Destroy the Curse, and you destroy me. Forever. *** "What good a promise if you cannot trust the giver to abide by it?" Bitter words, but the bitterness overflowed with sorrow. Deep, abiding sorrow and anger at the pain. At his pain. Anger at those who had hurt him so deeply, so badly. A silver mirror for the ache that he'd felt for her, without thought of himself or his hurt. The lie within the words lay in her emotions. The silver spider shook itself and then whispered softly, "I'm sorry. I promise." The promise was given, not only with her words but her whole heart. Behind the words was also a resolve to never hurt him as others had, with the self-knowledge that it was a resolve only as strong as she was. A subtle emotional glow, the sense of an unseen smile. *** A resolve as strong as _that_, is enough to satisfy even _my_ mistrust. *** Then, there was an indefinable hint of change, of drawing away, in the fathomless night surrounding Kardia. *** Time does not pass here, but we must return to the outside world sometime. Farewell, Kardia. *** "Fare thee well." she said softly. A sensation of warmth, of closeness, as if the blackness gathered itself to her, enfolded her in a hug. Then, the soft pleasure of being held deepened, rose, crested in a sudden pounding rush, as the exquisite sensual bliss, the sensation of his fangs buried in her throat, overwhelmed her once more. The darkness vanished as she opened her eyes, to see the night sky explode in fireworks. Inwardly, she laughed, dizzy with delight. 'They always said you see fireworks when it's really, _really_ good...' Then, the glorious sensation faded, as he moved, withdrawing his fangs from her throat. She gave a faint, involuntary moan of protest. Kadrys could feel her heartbeat beginning to slow. He knew the time had come for their shared pleasure to come to an end. As he drew his fangs free, he pushed the tip of his tongue against one, gashing it. He held his wounded tongue against her skin, pressing a single drop of his own blood into each of the tiny punctures. The next moment, the split in his tongue closed, healing itself as his wounds always did, and in the same moment, Kardia's wounds also closed, healed without trace by the tiny infusion of Kadrys' blood. He gave the site a final, slow lick to clear away any traces, and straightened up, standing Kardia on her feet again and looking into her face. Slowly, her hand came up to rub against her throat. Her eyes, already wide with wordless wonder, narrowed with simple surprise as she felt no hint of any wounds, not even of scars. In truth, after the wonders of this night, such healing was a simple enough thing. She smiled softly, silently at him, feeling obscurely that any words just now would be intrusive, and bent to pick up her shawl from where it still lay, spread over cobbles gouged by a demon's talons, and over ragged remnants of satin. Kadrys grinned teasingly at her and took an ostentatious step back. A distant part of her thought that yes, now she had an idea what had really happened to him (Lord, was it only a few days ago?) when he had touched the shawl in her room. Moving without thought, she flipped the shawl over her shoulders, settled it comfortably round her neck. She gasped as the pain struck like two slender needles. She felt the slow, warm trickle of blood start to worm its way down her neck. "Dump that shawl!" Kadrys barked, but her hands were already moving, tearing the shawl off her shoulders, holding it in one hand behind her back. Then Kadrys was on her, licking at her throat with a tongue that had been torn by his own fangs. Ahh yes. The thin sharp pain, the flow of blood, were both shut off suddenly and completely by the soft pressure of his tongue. Trembling a little with reaction, she backed away. She shook out the folds of the shawl, frowning at the blood on it. She then carefully folded the knitted shawl into a surprisingly small bundle with the blood folded in on itself. She looked around a little helplessly for somewhere to put it and finally asked, "Uhm... may I use the last of your shirt?" Kadrys looked intensely contrite. And intensely annoyed with himself as he took off the last of the tatters still on his spare frame. "I apologise. If I had taken a moment to think, I should have realised it would disrupt the healing ability of my blood, just as it disrupts the other effects of curses." Kardia shook her head, chuckling as she carefully wrapped the shawl in the rags. She laughed at the strange looking bundle, "It's my shawl. I should've realised..." She shook her head and laughed again, giddy with the surprises of this evening, "Heck, I'm still trying to figure out what's going on with all this... between 'Raelf and Jameson and you, you all have turned every thought I had about this world around." The next moment she faltered, shivering a little as the recent stress on her physical stamina suddenly caught up to her, feeling the chill of the evening without the shawl's warmth. Kadrys moved closer, glancing at her inquiringly, before slowly sliding his arm round her shoulders, drawing her in to his side. She leaned gratefully into his bodyheat, felt a riot of conflicting reactions as she remembered its source. They walked side by side, in the silence that is a communion subtler than speech, down the lane toward the rainbow glow of the party. The last of the fireworks burst into brilliance as they left the darkened laneway behind. "Yes," Kadrys murmured softly as they walked, "There's so much left for _both_ of us to discover..." -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: caz@owlnet.rice.edu (HWRNMNBSOL) Subject: Re: [Redhead] A strange arrival Message-ID: References: <1t9g2i$mif@cwis.isu.edu> <1te3ne$rp5@suntan.eng.usf.edu> Date: Thu, 20 May 1993 05:12:03 GMT ADMIN: Hope you don't mind, Mike..... In article <1te3ne$rp5@suntan.eng.usf.edu>, whitaker@tlshpp7.mdcbbs.com (Mike Whitaker - SDL) writes: |> Silence. Then a few mutter "No"'s, in tones of regret, and a few |> more shake their heads, looking uncomfortable. Serene, having served the |> man in green robes and black mail, comes over to the red-head, sets down a |> fresh drink, for which the girl pays, fumbling awkwardly though her pockets |> for the handful of coins, and then Serene carefully clears up the broken |> glass and wipes up the spilt whisky, treating the brooding girl to a |> soft smile. Listener hops into the rafters from a table-top and assumes his usual position in his sooty perch. Settling himself, he holds his rhapsodine in one hand and removes the skin of wine from between his teeth. Uncapping it, he is irritated to find it mostly empty. Ah, well. Holidays always make him think of good times, and those make him think of Orhianna. It is only a short jump from such thoughts to going on a serious bender. It is an equally short jump from there to love, and thence to song. Listener's eyes glaze a tad, but his fingers shake not at all as he strings and tunes the instrument that once earned him a capful of gold in the Court of the Crimson King. |> The bard begins to play, a gentle ballad, an old lovesong with a chorus |> that is familiar to a goodly few. The red-head turns to watch, drink in |> hand, and listens attentively, the rest of the inn forgotten....... LOVE LIGHT Sun shine Take now the shadows; Show me a sign. Sun shine Until the moon glows; Make sure the dark goes Make sure our love grows Your heart against mine! Love Light Making the stars bright Setting afire The spires That blaze in the night! Love Light Making me feel right Taking us higher And higher 'Til we're out of sight! Love Light! Love Light! Love Light!....... Moon beam Lost in your arms' snare; Drunk in your gleam. Moon beam Taking my last care Taking me there, where Seeing you there, fair You're more than a dream! Love Light Making the stars bright Setting afire The spires That blaze in the night! Love Light Making me feel right Taking us higher And higher 'Til we're out of sight! Love Light! Love Light! Love Light!....... Sun rise Making the grey blue; Seen in your eyes. Sun rise Hatching the world new Letting me see you; Letting me see, too Your face in the skies! |> By the third |> chorus, voices have picked up the words and tune, and hers is one - a |> smoky, throaty alto with a raw edge of emotion, which has its home in inns |> and bars like this......... Love Light Making the stars bright Setting afire The spires That blaze in the night! Love Light Making me feel right Taking us higher And higher 'Til we're out of sight! Love Light! Love Light! Love Light!....... Love Light...... Wish you were here.....tonight..... Wish I could make.....things right..... But tonight..... All...I....have.... Is..... Your..... Love Light! Love Light! Love Light!!!!!! |> The song ends, the bard switches to the flute, and she |> turns sadly back to the table, head again pillowed on her arms, watching the |> play of lamplight in the golden liquid in the glass. "I remember. They |> wouldn't let me sing." She drains half the glass in a single gulp, not |> caring |> that a goodly part of it spills down the front of her blouse. "Bastards." In the rafters, Listener plays his flute. All around him, facets of the human drama play on, reminding him of life in general and loss in particular. Those who say that elves do not cry know nothing. -- HWRNMNBSOL MagicHutchHeader From: s924739@yallara.cs.rmit.OZ.AU (Barry M Prismall) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] A Rangers Morning Keywords: Tarkyn BBD Message-ID: <19235@goanna.cs.rmit.oz.au> Date: 17 May 93 02:44:54 GMT An extract from the journal of Tarkyn the Ranger. Sunlight streamed through the lower floor window where the ranger slept. First warming his bare feet, his boots being left in a corner, working its way up to touch his face. His eyes flickered, cold and grey, darker than the clouds that had raged during a minor storm last night. Searching and seeking, always moving, eyes that see all. Easing his tired bones from a bed that really contrasted to the raggard ground he had been sleeping on before. Slinging a cloak of midnight black over his shoulder, Tarkyn heads through the door and into the bar in search of nourishment. "What may today bring", he thought as he sat down, signalling to Littlefair that he was ready for a meal. A smile escapes Tarkyn's lips as he remembered what had happened last time he had tasted the brew of the dragons inn. Just as he starts to take a sip he hears an a few words coming from a conversation going on at one of the corner tables. "...need all the help we can muster..." "The power hasn't manifested yet, what form will it take", Tarkyn carefully ponders to himself. Placing his hand on the hilts of his double rune swords at his side. "A gift and a curse they told me. Maybe it is time to see how Raoh's power has changed me" After quietly finishing his meal of something other than berries and nuts, the young ranger decides it is time to approach the group in the corner. Soundlessly he makes his way over, then with in a neutral voice he says, "Good morning, I could not help overhear what you said before", his eyes focused on Lancos, "I am interested in providing you with my services" Seeing that Lancos is waiting for something the young follower of the source adds, "My name is Tarkyn". Barry Prismall MagicHutchHeader From: scott@athena.mit.edu (Scott D Bradburn) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [NTY] Re: The return of Firgun. Date: 20 May 1993 12:48:42 GMT Message-ID: <1tfunaINN2n6@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> References: <1t3c5cINNqrk@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> <1993May15.230511.22030@rhrk.uni-kl.de> <1t5ochINNpu7@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> <1993May17.014804.2041@rhrk.uni-kl.de> <1t9670INN91a@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> ADMIN: I'm outta here, so I can't politely wait for a response. In article <1t9670INN91a@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU>, scott@athena.mit.edu (Scott D Bradburn) writes: |> Would you like to hear about how I saved everyone during the rat quest?" Since no one said no, Firgun began, "Well, we went into the sewers, these other people and I. After wandering around for a while I had saved them from The Slimes that Dry Men's Soles, an Evil Wizard (TM), a bunch of Crocodiles, and a giant rat. Then everyone else left, and I started collecting fungi in this wonderful dungeon, then I came back here." Taking another breath, he asked, "Wasn't that a great story? Do you want to see the fungi I collected?" Without waiting for a response Firgun started fishing for something inside his hat. Having found what he was looking for he pulled it out. In his hand he held a hand. Well, in his hand, a hand held him. Um, well, Firgun was holding a large, scaly hand in one hand, which also seemed to be holding him back. Not to mention the large, scaly arm that led back into his hat. "This is a rare fungus, called the Ogre's hand. Notice it's resemblance to a large, scaly hand. The only way to tell the difference, is that an Ogre's hand fungus isn't connected to an Ogre. While an Ogre's hand is--" Firgun stopped when the arm connected to the hand he was holding tugged on him. "Hmm... Are fungi supposed to have arms?" asked Firgun. The arm gave another strong pull and Firgun was jerked into his hat up to his shoulder. "Hey! Let go of my arm!" he shouted. With one mighty tug Firgun nearly got his wrist back out of the hat, and was about to smile when he was jerked back in. This time all that remained outside was the tips of Firgun's fingers gripped tightly to the edge of his hat. The continued pulling on his hat caused the brim to start pulling inside the hat. Instead of turning inside-out, the hat seemed to swollow itself up until with a faint pop, it disappeared, leaving a small ball of lint behind. ADMIN: The summer vacation loss of access is upon me. I'll be back next fall, and maybe Firgun as well. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu (Daniel Steven Reinker) Subject: [blade] Meshtak on the warpath Message-ID: <1993May21.003240.1823@cheshire.oxy.edu> Date: Fri, 21 May 1993 00:32:40 GMT It was morning, the storm was over, and the refugees were straggling out of the temple and stumbling their ways home. Meshtak, too, realized it was time to get to work. He exited the temple, and noticed Blade was not around. "Grot." the draga swore. "He left without me." Meshtak cursed himself, knowing he should have probably expected such a thing. Meshtak donned his cloak and made his way cautiously into low-town. The poorer areas of town were in chaos, the storm damaging many homes. Meshtak sighted a bunch of looters stealing crystal from a shop; they saw him, too, and ran off, apparently not wanting to face him. It was strangly quiet, and Meshtak speculated that most of the people had either abandoned the neighborhood or were huddled still in basements. "But where's Hendrix?" muttered Meshtak. "And where's Blade?" The next time Meshtak ran across a looter, he chased the boy and caught him. The boy gaped at him. "Who you!" the urchin babbled in broken common. The trinket he had stolen dropped from his hand and fell in the gutter. "I have heard of a new leader in lowtown. Do you know of Hendrix?" growled Meshtak. "How much you want know?" said the urchin, not missing the chance to make some money. But Meshtak just smiled. "How 'bout I don't drag your tail to the keep for stealing?" he countered. The lad's face fell, it was apparent he wouldn't make any money. "I don' know nothin'." the kid sulked. "Really? Then I guess I have only one use for you." And Meshtak pulled back his hood. "Food." he grinned, showing his sharp draga teeth. He had really no intention of eating the child, but it certainly had the desired effect. "Don't eat me!!!" the kid cried. The boy glanced around desperately. "I say I know nothing, that true; but you ask ol' Merg. He know! Ask Merg! No eat me!" The kid cringed. "Where's this Merg?" "You go to Garr's Tavern, he drink there." Meshtak released the lad, and the child scampered off. Meshtak the Draga -- "You can't help that. We're all mad here." - The Cheshire Cat, Alice in WL "Twisting under schizophrenia/ Falling deep into Dementia" - Metallica Subscribe to the Ctrl J. mailing list! Send e-mail to dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu. Include your e-mail address!!!! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir-the-Love-Stricken-and-happy) Subject: [Sorc] Meetings, exchanges, the road to Saelex. Message-ID: Date: Fri, 21 May 1993 09:56:19 GMT She gazed into his eyes, this elf of her dreams. He was just as she had envisioned him. His grey hair, slightly bedraggled, his grey silk clothes, tunic, breeches and cloak. His sword as he replaced it in it's scabbard. His skin, unnaturally pale, and his eyes, fierce, entrancing. Yet he looked worn, tired, weary of all the world. He looked a mere twenty, perahps twenty-five, yet that meant that as an elf, he was probably closer to the hundred and twenty mark. Yet his face bore the appearance of one much older than that, who had seen too much of the world and done too many things. He held her with his gaze, this vibrant young mortal who silently would scream at him in his dreams. She was vivacious, full of life. He looked at her blonde curled hair, long down her back and left free. She was wearing flowing robes of mainly red and gold. Her eyes, blue, piercing, young. Who was she? A wizard, no doubt, like many other mages around the city. But her robes were of a diffrent style to any he had seen before. Or had he? The more he thought on it, the more he was sure that he had indeed seen that style of robes before, in his dreams. The Black-Robed Man. His Robes were midnight black, but they were the same style, right down to the small bordering work on the ends of the sleeves. Silken stood a step back from Saoirse, suspecting that perhaps she worked for him, like Iglyarch, and that these others, similarly robed except for one of them were also the servants of the black robed man. She was surprised to see him stand away like this for a moment. Her companions merely looked on at this seeming silent exchange of recognition between the two. None of the others recognised this elf and they were wary. Jarakh cast a quick detection spell on the elf to acsertain his nature. He frowned for a second, scanning the elf's trace again, then his eyes widened in realisation. He tapped Saoirse on the shoulder, and she turned to face him. Then, he spoke so she could read his lips. "Saoirse, who is this elf?", he asked quietly. 'I have seen him in dreams, Jarakh. He has something to do with the Sorceror affair, I'm sure of it.' Jarakh looked at Silken, who looked back at him, confused, wary. Jarakh switched to telepathy also. 'Saoirse, I've run a trace scan on this guy. He's no elf.' 'What do you mean? What have you found?' 'He's a vampire, I think. Highly unusual variety, but strongly powerful variety also. He's highly dangerous' 'What?? Are you sure? 'Very sure. Be very careful with him. You'd never know wwhat might happen if he got hungry' They broke contact. Silken watched as the two mages, the middle-aged in blue robes and the woman from his dreams appeared to exchange a silent series of communications between each other. Probably about him. The Blue Robed man seemed highly worried about something, and was always watching Silken very carefully. They both looked up at him. "Who are you ?", Jarakh asked simply, bluntly, to the point. "I might ask the same of you, mage", Silken retorted. He had to get somewhere quickly. Saelex Keep was the place to go and he had no time to waste. But at the same time, this woman was connected to this whole mess. He was undecided on the matter. "My name is Jarakh of Magira. These are my companions. We are on an important journey. Now, who are you?" "My name's Silken, if you must know. Who is she?", he turned to the blonde woman, who hadn't spoken as yet to any of them. She looked into his eyes for a second and the ring on her finger lit up. He immediately tensed, suspecting a trick or a ploy. His hand went to his sword faster than the mages could follow with their eyes. 'Rest easy, elf. It is merely my way of communicating. My name is Saoirse, and I too am from Magira' Magira. That name meant something. Wasn't that a city really far north of here? The Magicians city. He'd heard the name once or twice before. It was very much a city of legend as the Magirans were a highly insular crowd. It was said that the city was bigger than Generica but not tightly inhabitted. Mostly wizards lived there. "OK, so tell me what you Magirans are doing here? And why the hell do I feel like I know you ", he was getting impatient now. He had to go to the Keep and deal with the problems there. 'We search for an old enemy' "Who?" 'His name is Sorceror, Silken.' "Sorceror? Never heard of him. Listen, I've got to go. I have to do something. Maybe we'll meet again sometime. have fun finding Sorceror, by the way" Before anybody could say anything, Silken leapt into the air, and began to fly off, keeping an eye on these mages, to make sure that they didn't do anything nasty. 'No, Wait, you don't understand!' Saoirse was desperately calling out to him 'Silken!! Sorceror is the black robed man. From the DREAM!! He was already a long distance out. As he flew off, the message hit him, and he stopped suddenly, in mid air, above the Great Library. He paused, considered its content, and decided. If these people really were who they said they were, he could use all the help he could get. If not, well, he'd just have to be ready to get the hell out of there. He landed in front of them. "You know of him?" Saoirse, Jarakh and Lothaer nodded. Talon walked up beside Saoirse, to assess the elf. He had a notion that he'd seen the elf around the city once or twice before. Probably one of thsoe adventurer crew that hung out around the Dragon's Inn. Lothaer, wheezing and leaning heavily on his staff fixed Silken with a steely gaze that unnerved the elf. "Now listen here boy. I can see from my spells that you've got problems. And it's my guess that you've gotten caught up with this mess just as much as we have. We need to know where he is. You need to know where he is. So let's just quit messing about and get together. This mutual enemy of ours is old, millenia old, and a god by all accounts. He's got to be stopped, understand? No question about it." Lothaer broke into a fit of coughing and reached into his robes for a vial. One of the Mages from Extraplanar Contacts, a young bald man named Faldar, went assist the Master. Lothaer waved him away. "I'll be alright. Now where was I? Oh yes. He's got very bad plans for this city and this world boy, very bad indeed ..." "I know ", Silken interrupted ", this city is already crawling with demons." That set a murmur up among the various magi there. "Well, whatever", Jarakh said loudly and hastily ,"Listen, Vampire, it's simple. Do you know where we can find him or not?" Silken was stunned by Jarakh's frankness. And he'd called Silken a Vampire as a means of derision! But too much was riding on this to let his anger take the better of him. The Beast could rise from it's currently well-fed depths at any time to cause him havoc and pain. "Have you ever heard of Saelex Keep?" he asked tersely, tensely Talon spoke up "Yes, Silken, I have heard of the Keep. I've lived in this city for many years after all. That's where this Sorceror person is so you say? It doesn't make sense. Saelex Keep is just a ruin. It's been that way for centuries." 'Talon, Jarakh, everybody. Let's just get there and check the place out, OK? We're wasting time even as we speak.' That promptly shut everybody up. "I'll tell my Guild of this later, when I get the chance ", said Talon absently. In yet another mass teleportation, the strike team plus one Vampire elf shimmered with a bright light for a second in front of the Guild and then there was nothingness. From an alleyway to the right, a dark figure looked on, and waited to see if they would return. This figure, a small child, then quickly ran up the streets of the city, avoiding the revellers and reaching the Merchant Quarter of a city. Once there, he met a man dressed in noble finery, his black hair washed and looking the real gentleman. "Alex ", whispered the child. "Yes. my beautiful Tekuma, what have you found out?" "Alex, the elf's gone to Saelex keep, with a whole load of magicians. There's gonna be trouble, Alex, big trouble." "Yes, Child, I know. Call the others. Tell them that Iglyarch is gone, and we are at just the right moment to take over Low City's crime scene and ensure Vessels for all of us for a long time to come. But we must act quickly" Alex retreated into the shadows, while Tekuma went to find the other Hunters. Toniight would be a biig night, he knew it. -- 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 MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [BDAY] [MG] Panning for Gold Message-ID: References: Date: Fri, 21 May 1993 20:26:04 GMT [ADMIN] This is a joint concoction. Thanks to Liralen and Andrea Evans for their considerable assistance. 0---------------0 They left the darkness behind them. Kardia was warmed by the body heat of Kadrys' bare skin, and half wondering how folks would react to his lack of a shirt. When they reached the party, she was amused and slightly confused to realize that he didn't stand out much at all. There were folks wandering about the party with far less clothing than even Kadrys had. She grabbed another drink from one of the tables, remembering after the blood donations that they recommended lots of liquids. She drank deep. Then she heard the beat... A beat as complex, quick and smooth as a runner in full stride. Latino, she realized with surprise. "Do... do you hear that?" she asked Kadrys with delight suddenly blazing on her face as a voice called in wordless song from the distance. [Oh.. ey ah way...] Kadrys frowned as he nodded. "It's not familiar, but I hear it." [Ohey a ooo ahh...] "It's from my world, but in its past." Kardia said, her head tilted to one side to catch the haunting sound. [Oh ey a way!] "Come on!" Kardia said, laughing, "This is fun to dance to..." Her tiredness, her thirst were ignored and forgotten as the beat ran through her and made her feet light. [Tonight.] They reached the crowd when the brass and horns burst into the beat as well, deepening it, broadening without losing any of the quick sharpness. The rough warmth of a female voice started singing with a light Cuban accent. The melody was haunting, sensual, with just a gleaming hint of something dark. Kardia smiled at Kadrys and saw him smile back. She surrendered to the sound all around her and moved to it. She was unsurprised to find that Kadrys danced beautifully, with a sensual intentness that showed the power of his body. Kadrys let himself be caught in the dance, surrendering just enough to enjoy it, enough to bring long-buried skills to the surface. It had been so _long_ since he had felt this good... The power of her blood, throbbing in his veins, the incandescent feeling of its heat radiating from his skin into the cool night air. The shared enjoyment, seeing her forget all her cares and just dance. Astonishment at the lightness and spring in her steps. ...So long since he had felt this _alive_. "Rhythm is gonna get ya Rhythm is gonna get ya Rhythm is gonna get ya, Rhythm is gonna get youu. tonight!" UNG! The whole crowd around them grunted at the end of the phrase. Kardia abruptly stopped dancing. Her intentness on the music sheared away by seeing just how many people were... The nausea she felt at most things merely sexual drowned the lure of the music. She looked up with frightened eyes at Kadrys. He frowned a little at her and then gave a bright, cynical grin at seeing what had caused her to stop. The activity here did not bother him in the slightest; on the contrary, he rather enjoyed it. But he could see that it bothered Kardia intensely, so he didn't give voice to the amused chuckle in his thoughts. Her reaction was absolutely understandable considering the terrors in her past, and he would do nothing to make her any more uncomfortable with her feelings. A woman moved in, up against Kadrys, the soft downy fur of her body smoothing and rubbing against Kadrys' bare skin, like a cat wanting to be touched. The curved line of the cat woman's bare body curled against Kadrys' spare frame. His skin tingled at the touch, and he inhaled her scent. He frowned suddenly, surprised. 'That _is_ odd. They almost always use simple illusions for masquerade parties. Visual, maybe tactile if it's a rich or talented crowd. But I never heard of illusions where they correctly mingled human and animal scents. No-one bothers with illusions they can't even detect. So they _aren't_ just illusions. True transformations. Someone is expending a _lot_ of magical energy on this little party...' His eyes turned to Kardia. Seeing her tension and worried frown, he raised one eyebrow, gently pushed the furred woman away from him and moved closer to Kardia. "What's wrong?" He wondered if her strange curse-detecting sight had seen something he had not. "I... I don't know... but... is this normal for here?" Kadrys looked around, shrugging slightly. "You mean the, ah, party games? Yes, normal enough when satyrs are playing." His tones were light, offhand. Playing it down, keeping it calm. But his vaguely uneasy expression did not fade. Kardia looked at the center of the crowd, swallowed hard, and said in a small voice, "Oh." She swapped sights, blinked and said a far more surprised, "Oh." She shook her head, "That... that can't be 'Raelf, can it?" She remembered a satyr from her long glimpse at 'Raelf's multiple being, but this one had hair as gold as 'Raelf's. The one within him had had dark hair but the same face as this one. Kadrys stared across the square at the distant, muscular figure of the tall male in the middle of the group of satyrs. The vampire's eyes narrowed as he caught the faintest flash of multicoloured orbs behind the eyelids lowered in sensual absorption. "He has the same eyes..." Kadrys muttered, uncertain. He was unfamiliar with this manifestation, this mood in his old friend. If it _was_ indeed 'Raelf. Confused, Kardia frowned and turned away, shaking out the bundle that was her shawl. She folded the square in half diagonally, frowned again at the blood stain on it, and then put it on, behind her back, off her shoulders to keep it away from her throat. She sighed in relief as the heat and insistence flowed away from her. "What are you doing?" Kardia looked up at Kadrys, brows creasing. "I... I don't know. But he's got... lines of magic running through the whole crowd, not exactly making them do... that... but it's so close that..." she shook her head, her lower lip trembling. "I... I don't know... but I do know I don't want to get caught in that web. This is the only defense I have against it." Kadrys took another look around as he caught the first slight traces of the old familiar scent. Faint at first, then growing steadily clearer. Not much of it, but it was freshly spilled, and it was coming from all around him. He saw the frantic grinding of bodies against rough cobblestones, there was broken glass, twigs, the detritus that was part of civilization everywhere, and the people writhing on them as if they were the softest beds. The faces, even more absorbed and unheeding than usual in such activity. His eyes narrowed. This _was_ unlike 'Raelf. Not so much the orgy, but the lack of care for the participants. That settled it. His unease crystallised into action. "Would you like to talk with him?" Kadrys' tone was soft. The fear flared in the pit of her stomach, but with Kadrys' hand held out for hers, despite the presence of her shawl, she nodded once and took his warm hand in hers. The two of them moved slowly into the center of the groping, writhing crowd. As they drew closer Kardia was able to make out the shape of the face on the big, gold satyr. The nose was squarer than 'Raelf... no... Dave's nose, she thought. His body was close to Dave's solid build, but the legs were furry and hooved. The gold eyebrows were solid over slanted eyes. Those eyes flickered and changed color. The crowd closed around them again, and they lost sight of the band as another song started up. A pair of statuesque women, totally human in appearance, but perfect, no flaws, were dancing back-to-back and reaching out to pull in anyone who came close enough - Kardia instinctively moved away from them, smiling nervously in response to the friendly inviting gaze of the nearer woman. "No thanks," she mouthed, amd the woman smiled a Mona-Lisa smile back, glancing up and down Kadrys' body as he made a path through the press of dancers, then she reached out and grabbed someone else passing by. Suddenly they were through the dancers and into the edge of the circle around the band, clear of bodies except for a few who had found this place where they could rest and do things without being stepped on. The band was between them and their goal: the two dark twins doing amazing things with a multi-headed log-drum, the yellow haired female playing air guitar - and it was very audible - the red-haired male singing and drumming on a tuned metal disk similar to a jamaican drum. The big gold male was intermittently visible on the other side as they moved around the raised stone dias to reach him. 'Similar, but not identical. I'm just not _sure_...' Kadrys thought, but in that moment, the satyr's glance fell on them as they wound their way along the edge of the dance. Raffi was a happy camper. The party was just getting real good. The band was hot, the crowd was hotter. One of the dancers had gone and brought one of the beer carts from the Square and a couple vendors had brought their food carts, even one of the new Pitza carts that had started up since Luthor's party. He fondled a passing dancer. She giggled and slid close, and he gave her a kiss and looked inside her for her hottest turn-on. Foxes - she liked foxes. A vixen, eh? He held his pipes to her lips, and let her blow her tune. She laughed and skipped away into the dance, not really noticing her hair growing longer and red to match the soft fur sprouting on her lithe body, and her ears growing long black pointed sharp. The tail would come later as she was more comfortable with the image. He felt a strange popping - someone had just come into the dance, but she snapped the glamourie that tied them together, the gentle seductive aura that made the party such a success. He looked through the crowd, there, coming toward him having absolutely no fun at all, Kadrys and Kardia in tow behind. He noted absently that his favorite vamp was looking kind of skinny today, must not be eating well. He'd have to give the fellow some eats, share some of the wealth. There were a few folk in the crowd with a blood fetish. Hey! Kardia was injured? ... No? well! Fickle. She'd been feeding Kadrys, he knew the signature of her blood as it flowed in the Vamp's veins. But what the hey. Enough of her to go round. Enough of everybody for him. He continued with the pipe accompaniment, waiting for them to get to the stage, playing with a couple who danced onto the dias; he gave them their hearts' desire and they returned to the rest of the dance. Then Kardia and Kadrys came through the edge of the crowd. "Well heyyy, Heart of Darkness!" the big satyr cried, grinning widely at Kardia in obvious recognition. "And Darkness with her!" He flipped the pipes to the red-furred singer, who pulled them nimbly out of the air and went on with the song, interspersing his words with furious piping without missing a beat or seeming to pause for breath. The next moment, the satyr bounded across the dais with sudden caprine agility, strange in such a large frame, and danced toward them. "'Raelf? Is that you?" Hm. Old Cautious at it again. "Call me Raffi, good buddies. Oh wow, Kardia, my sweet, you decided you want the inhuman touch? I thought we had a promise? 'Sokay, I'm happy to share. Hey, why the face, I say something wrong?" Whatta drag, she looked real unhappy now, "Raffi... what are you doing to all these people? You're... well... you're making it nearly impossible for them to not..." She waved an arm at the partying crowd. She took a breath and stilled. "You gotta stop this." As he closed the distance between them, Kardia could see the ringlets of dense golden hair coating his oaken muscles. His brown skin glistened with the sweat of his playing, radiating a heady animal muskiness, rich and enticing. He reached out, supremely confident, as if to sweep her into his arms, but she huddled into her shawl and shrank away from him, her grey eyes wide with sudden fear of this magnificent, overpowering being. Kardia swallowed, and finally managed to ask in a small unsteady voice, "Raffi? 'Raelf, that _is_ you?" The satyr laughed, "Well sure it's me! And I'm in the mood to parrrrtayy..." The last word was a rumble in his massive chest. "...Aren't _you_?" he husked, smiling with molten-sky eyes. Casually, Kadrys edged closer, Kardia sidestepping instantly to put him between herself and the tall golden creature. The satyr's first reaction was simply a friendly chuckle, as he redirected his attention. Behind Kadrys, Kardia sagged with relief, feeling as if a hot searchlight had suddenly been turned elsewhere. "Well hey, my old sailing buddy, I see you're already getting down!" The satyr ran his large brown hands caressingly over Kadrys' fine white skin, stroking the vampire's sinewy shoulders. Kadrys simply stood there, staring at the satyr. His expression was a perfect study of cold indifference. The satyr's dense gold brows drew low over his eyes, which flashed hotly, seeking a response in the vampire's black orbs. "Gah!" the satyr snorted, snatching his hands away from Kadrys' body and scrubbing them down his own thickly furred flanks as if to wipe them clean. "Like kissing a work droid! Nobody home!" He looked past Kadrys, no longer noticing the vampire, and his eyes lit on Kardia. He smiled, almost leered, and projected the body language of promise and desire. Her only reaction was a convulsive tightening of the fist that held her shawl around her shoulders, a reaching of the other hand toward Kadrys. Silently, he took it. Together, they faced the satyr, wordlessly waiting for his next move. He scowled like a disappointed child, pouting his thick lips and drawing his bushy gold brows down in a frown which almost hid his eyes. They were NO fun at all. "AwwcMONNN!" he drawled, "Little lady, you _asked_ me for this, I'm just offering a preview." He shifted lithely, flowing around Kadrys and to Kardia's side, gently and firmly taking her shawl-wrapped hand and drawing her against his body, ready to hold her in muscled arms, his mouth open to fasten on hers, he looked inside for her fondest desire... Kardia had gone white. She pulled hard at the grasp that held her and when it did not let go, her eyes went wide. Then, quietly, directly to those rainbow eyes, she said, "No." Then, a shocked, unhappy expression on Raffi's face; he released her hand and there was a movement beside her faster than her eyes could follow, and the gold-furred arms loosened. She slid free, took two steps back, and stood staring. Kadrys had lunged between her and the perhaps-'Raelf, and now the vampire and the satyr stood face to face, as motionless as two statues in some bizarre park, carpeted with flowers of writhing, panting flesh. There had been a low rumble of speech from the satyr, too indistinct for her to hear. But now all was silent and still. They were simply standing there, staring into each others' eyes. She could see the flickering of the vivid colours in the satyr's eyes had slowed, the changes dreamlike, hypnotic, insidious, a gradually shifting rainbow rather than an abrupt flashing kaleidoscope. As she circled round, she saw Kadrys' face. His eyes were utterly changed. Gone were the familiar deep black orbs, replaced by twin pools of blood-red radiance, his gaze burning steadily, relentlessly into the satyr's shifting inconstant eyes. Kadrys had been pondering his options while the satyr had made his advances to them both. 'If this _is_ 'Raelf, or perhaps another 'kan, then I'll never defeat him in a simple physical struggle. What impression can flesh, even undead flesh, make on a being who can merge with the elements, or change shape at will? But our relative strengths have never been measured on the mental arena. 'Raelf said to me once, on the lookout of his home, that a human (if not quite an ordinary one), was able to resist him mentally. I think it's time to see whether my own abilities are up to the task.' Then the satyr had slid around and seized Kardia. Time to move. "Oh bummer," the satyr had growled as Kadrys interposed himself. "This is not copacetic, m'frensses. We must needs party, while the party's good. Eat, drink, make merry, for tomorrow..." He flinched. "Kadrys, the eyes may have it, but if you keep tryin' to give me the hairy eyeball, we're gonna have it out." A sharp, white smile in reply. Raffi smiled as the red eyes locked with his. He decided to let it happen; the Vamp wanted a taste of him, they'd both get a taste. He opened a thin channel, watching Kadrys move along brushing the uncomfortable edges, oh well, after all those kiloyears you'd think he'd be better at that... Eyes. Black as death. Then, pupils gaping, light kindling in their depths. Red. Hot as lifeblood. Insistent as a beating heart. Red. Blood red. This was no gentle reaching out, no loving embrace of a mortal consciousness, not the sweet seduction that preceded feeding. It was an attack. Feral, absolute. An assault on the defended fortress of an alien mind. He felt the channel open, probed it with his senses without committing to it. He was surprised to find it no decoy, but a conduit past the massed defences, straight into the heart of the complex mind. 'Raelf - or whoever he was - evidently wanted the contact. Very well. But Kadrys decided that on the way in, he would assess the defences he was passing, in case he would need to break his way out again. He started along the thin conduit, feigning timorousness, flinching aside to just brush against the edges of each defensive structure in turn, sampling it, gaining the information he would need to work out a way to breach them, if it came to that. The first defence loomed, a swirl of vivid hues reminiscent of the glimmering colourplay in the 'kan eyes. As he touched them, the swirling colours broke apart into a bewildering collage of split-eyeblink images. Visions of bizarrely outfitted people, fragments of dreams, reached out to him. Seductive drumbeats, even more complex than those of the satyr band, tried to entice him. Wailing instruments, similar to those the bard Screamer used, assaulted his ears. The obvious response would be to close down the senses. This would leave the attacker helpless. No, the required response would be a mindless, vacant trance. A glass eyed stare, letting it all wash over without attempting to analyse or think. The images and sounds faded. The second defence bulked ahead. Flinch aside, touch it. Blackness. Total lack of sensation, direction, purpose, being. Not too unlike his own mental presence. The best attack would be no attack. Accept it, absorb it, unite with it. The third defence. Touch it. Kadrys' forehead split apart as the ballista quarrel crashed home. The agonising crunch of bone, a gush of his warm blood and brains spilling down his cloven face. His body thrashing in mindless nerve reflex as it fell heavily to the ground. And the agony. Mortal agony. The screaming, mental and physical. And then, the soul-deep shock, the overwhelming, final blackness of death. Death. Familiar territory, to him. Kadrys passed through the experience without fear, emerged an instant later, sound and sane and unscathed. He had even witnessed the death 'Raelf had used as part of his defenses. He had been close enough to be sprayed with his friend's lifeblood, had wept inside as he watched 'Raelf die. So. There could be no doubt. It _was_ 'Raelf. But _why_ was he acting so strangely? He was about to find out. The death image was the last of 'Raelf's defences. "Welcome to my parlor." He drew the Vampire close and reached in turn for *contact* They were standing in a sort of a forest, entwined in a combination of a wrestler's grapple and lover's embrace. "What is this?" Kadrys broke free of the hold, looking around them in shock. His heart pounded in his chest, his breath was fast and his breath? He looked at his hands. Not the sunless ivory of the years of undeath, they were brown and alive and warm with their own heat, not stolen from the blood of others. Sunlight played across his face without any hint of pain. He looked up. "You wanted this, you know." The satyr was still there, but he looked more leonine, instead of being a blend with goat, he was a blend with cat, a shaggy mane of hair, a long tufted tail and the legs were those of a lion, slightly twisted. "This isn't right. What you're doing to those people." "Hey, it feels good, and if it feels this good it can't be wrong." Kadrys stared at him in open disbelief, before a sharp, mocking grin twisted his features. "'Welcome to my parlor'? 'If it feels good it can't be wrong'? 'Raelf. Cheap cliches? What is _wrong_ with you?" "Name's Raffi, and I don't go ragging on you for being maudlin about being dead, do I?" The too-handsome face pouted, which did not look especially good on him. Kadrys clenched his jaw, his lips thinned with disgust. He snarled a rebuke. "Did you actually _ask_ any of them if they wanted to be bit players in your little extravaganza?" "I looked for what they wanted, man. Fair exchange for them givin me what I wanted." Raffi licked his lips. "I noticed. They were giving you what you wanted. You were having fun. And that's all that mattered. You're acting as though you couldn't give a damn about all those people. How they're going to be when your fun is over. Certainly battered and bruised. Possibly diseased or pregnant. Oh, and didn't you think all those transformations were just a touch invasive? Couldn't you settle for an illusion? Did you really have to play around with their species as well as their private lives?" "Yeah. I like it. They do too. They're having themselves some fun too, you dried up old corpse. Fun, remember? Like _you_ were having yourself a moment ago with Kardia there. Tell me, old high and mighty, was she delicious? Did her blood feel reeeal good sliding down your gullet? Didn't you enjoy her? Without worrying about how she'd be afterwards?" "'Raelf, I am _worried_ about _you_! I believe your phrase is, 'you're losing the plot'. I thought you knew Kardia. Hell, I thought you knew me. If you did, you'd never need to ask such questions. You'd know that she has _not_ been harmed by me. I think she has found some measure of comfort. 'Raelf, that woman has been through pain no-one should ever know. How did you think she'd feel about being raped by a satyr? Or did you think at all?..." Raffi stepped back, surprised. "Rape? Never. Seduced. You know all about that. How often do you ask your prey first?" "'Raelf, please. _Listen_ to me. This is not like you. I know you. You _care_ about others. You came to me once, in pain, because just one man was grieving for his lost sister. Now, you're going to bring pain to dozens, to satisfy a passing whim. When I... when I was too old, too tired and used up and worn out to resist the Plane of Shadows, when I lost my soul in the curse; when I was destroyed and damned as a result, you _cared_. You cared enough to go back in time, and twist the courses of Fate: to assume a form that had been forbidden to you, to call down two gods and ask them to reunite me with my love. None of these feats were too great for you, because you cared about other people's pain. _This_ is you, 'Raelf. This is who you are!" When all that greeted those words was silence, Kadrys had to fight to overcome the despair that crashed over him, the fear for his friend. He reached inside himself, searching for the cold poise and assurance of his own soul's centre that had kept him from the madness in the ages past. There was something wrong. Something was draining from him. He snarled and Pulled back. Something deep tore free. "OW! Hey, cut that out!" The satyrlion fell backwards, rolling and coming to his feet in a smooth motion. "That hurt!" "You _won't_ be feeding on ME that way, 'Raelf." "No, man, I keep telling you, my name is Raffi, always has been. 'Raelf is the true line. They'd have me on toast if I used the clan name." "What?" Kadrys could only stare as the feline-satyr started grooming his tail in an affected "when in doubt wash" sort of way. "I said I'm Raffi. We're a cadet line. 'Raelf is the clan's true line." He looked Kadrys steady in the eyes and blinked like a cat being stroked. "OK, I'll ask politely then. Can we share together? Nudge-nudge?" "No. There's something _wrong_ here." "What's wrong is that you tried to crawl into me and then got all upset because I took you up on the offer. I thought you wanted to join with me! All the way, y'know? What kind of a tease are you, anyway?" "The kind who _can't_ go all the way, 'Raelf. That's how my curse spreads. Were I to completely touch my soul to another, the contagion would take their soul too." "Wow, cursed to an eternity of foreplay, how sad. Well, I'm not in any danger from your curse, you know." "Why do you think that?" Kadrys almost laughed - but it would have been a broken sound and he didn't have time for that weakness. "I know. From when we were on the Ghost Ship, remember? I know how it works." He started cleaning his left paw/hand. "I was on the Ghost Ship with 'Raelf. If you're not 'Raelf then it wasn't you." "No way, man, that was me all the way." Raffi stared steadily. Kadrys sat in the warm sun for a moment, part of him savoring a long-lost sensation while he searched through his aeons-long existence for an answer to this particular puzzle. But there wasn't one. At least, not one he liked at all. He would have to take this - this Raffi up on his offer. Abandon the last of his defences. Become utterly vulnerable. Surrender the deepest secrets of his soul, give himself totally to this other being. _Merge._ Doubtless for the 'kan, who had merged permanently with many different beings already, there was nothing at all unfamiliar in the act. For Kadrys, forever essentially alone, it was an entirely different matter. His every instinct, honed over ages of hiding, of survival, recoiled from the thought. All of his unlife, he had spent hiding his true self. Emerging from his careful concealment only to take control of others' minds. Laying bare other people's memories, selecting and storing them, while himself remaining shrouded in his own internal night. Defended from all attack. Concealed. Safe. He snarled suddenly at himself. 'Time to decide. What's it going to be? Am I strong enough to do this for him? Or am I going to go on being a spiritual voyeur? Stay in my own solitary self and let him go to hell?' It was a lot to ask of such an intensely secretive soul. But 'Raelf had already saved that soul from final death and damnation, had given him a gift beyond the wildest reach of his dreams. In the end, whatever the cost to his private self, he _could_ not refuse the chance to help. Grimly, he seized his instinctive reticence, crushed it out. There would be no room for even the slightest trace of his usual reserve. If he was to discover what had happened to 'Raelf, his own commitment to their union would have to be total. He drew a long, deep breath to calm himself, expelled it in a slow sigh. He stared directly into the depths of those kaleidoscope eyes. "Something's been done to you. I can't find out what, not at this level. So I guess I'll just have to trust your claim that you can deal with my curse." All at once he reached out, pulled the surprised satyrlion into his arms and moved to sink his fangs, but they weren't there. "Hey, sorry, dude, the curse is out there, this is just us in here." "Oh? Well let's just drop the illusions and do it." The forest blurred as they pulled tighter together, and with a SNAP Kadrys felt the hard body against his suddenly meld into his own; he fought off the intensity of the sensation with the strength gained from long practice, shoving away the strange physical sensations of merging to concentrate on the mental world. There was nothing here, really, a quiet center around which the world blazed as a cascade of Fire, a solid wall of Air, screaming flows of the Earth which Kadrys knew too well, and the curving inflexibility of Water. And the silence. _Raffi? _Yeah, man, oh wow, what a bitch, no wonder you don't trust anyone. Stakin' you in the afterglow? Geez. And getting led on by that priestess, finding out that all along it'd been a lie? Heinous. Flinch. Old foolishness, long since past. _Open up to me, Raffi. This isn't a one-way. _Really? But you want to be alive, free from the curse, that's your one strongest dream, right? I was gonna give you that in trade. _I'll ... *damn*. I'll survive. I want to give something to you, something of my choice, this one-way taking-and-gifting is wrong. It's ... It's not _good_ enough. _Seems fine to me, but whatever floats your boat. You want my own-true, here goes. growing up in the repressive regimented environment of his home, a cadet branch subject at any time to being revoked, eaten and changed thereby, winning the right to go to the Traveller's school just long enough to learn how to live off-world, escaping, finding a place to be, killing an elf-lord to steal his life and place and fleeing when discovered, finding a dying bird on a world of inconstant magic, eating it, becoming it, finding a dying dog struck by a car, eating it, becoming it, befriending a human who had dangerous hobbies, knowing he'd have an accident soon, eating it, becoming it, walking the world looking for fun, finding a satyr dying in Athens eating it, merging with the compatible spirit, moving on when the locals decide he's a demon, going to Arkham, finding a lost sage who needs a lift home, going on to Nexus, finding... Kadrys pulled free. Something kept getting in his way, a pattern of holes in the memory and mind that made up this Raffi character. One thing conspicuously missing. _Where's ar'Elya in all this? _Who? You mean the sparkly babe from clan 'lyand? How should I know, man, she's just someone I met in Traveller's, wouldn't even give me the time of day. Not a cadet branch. She's full sept, they're snobs like you wouldn't believe. _I see. Remember her for me. _Ok fine, whatever. Whirling vanes of ice aimed at him like a sword of disdain _That's a lie._ Kadrys put his will against the and felt it bend slightly. He reinforced the push. _Help me, Raffi. A torrent of power fed into his push, and the snapped. Whirling vanes of reflective crystal, each reflecting something new he had never seen about himself, the gentle laughter from inside in admiration of his soft-edged furriness ... _Oh man oh man. What the hell. ar'Elya. This doesn't make sense. _Call her. There was a wrenching sense of loss and abandonment, solitude returning where it wasn't welcome, and Kadrys was alone, himself and nobody else, in a quiet dark void. Then the forest sprang up around them, again, the golden satyrlion howling a name into the skies. The sun grew much brighter, blinding but not painful, even to eyes that were live and human in this place. "Help me?" The satyrlion sobbed, and a blazing silver figure with wings of pure light stepped down from the sun and wrapped the wings around. Kadrys felt it looking at him, and somehow an irrational, overwhelming hopefulness began to grow inside him. He smiled widely, a warm smile, harmless and human. The light faded. No black-and-red spots, as Kadrys had expected to see in afterimage. Just a gold-furred satyr-lion changing before his eyes, the satyr part blending into a more feline self. Around them the forest faded, reshaping, replaced by a palm-strewn shore of a beach where a storm had recently taken place. "Kadrys. Oh no. What have I been doing?" The vampire looked at him without speaking. "Oh man. I'm really sorry. Let's get back outside, ok?" Kardia gasped as the tense standoff broke without warning. Kadrys closed his eyes, turning his head away. The satyr stood, stretched to his full height, flinging his arms wide, threw back his head and gave voice to a shout: a burst of sound that stunned the ears of all those around him, drowning out the music of the band like a candle in the sun. And the call was answered. It appeared from nowhere and everywhere, a stream of light, brighter than any star, collecting into a blazing form, incandescent. Spears of blinding white radiance reached out from it, driving all the shadows away, bathing the square in fierce illumination, freezing the partygoers in an eerie tableau. As it coalesced, the watchers could dimly discern a human form, almost lost amid the radiance. It stood behind 'Raelf, bathing his body in its white glory. It cupped its hands round the back of his head, the golden curls burning, illuminated through with reflected light that began to shine from inside him, as they reached inside. Then the bright hands came away, tearing away something with them: vicious tangled chains of something deep black, the dire hue of the shadow that hides attackers. The radiant being ascended, dwindled, became a starlike point of light, vanished. Kadrys had watched the arrival of the light with particular intentness, his senses straining toward it. He had expected holiness in that blinding white blaze, had been prepared to flee for his life. But no, there was none of the terrible destroying agony that holy powers always inflicted upon him. Strangely, all he felt as he looked into that radiance, was a lifting of his heart. A sense of hope. But that vanished in concern as 'Raelf fell, unconscious. Together, he and Kardia knelt by the fallen satyr's side, Kardia calling to him, shaking him, trying to awaken him. Kadrys frowned, kneeling by 'Raelf's head. His hands reached out to the satyr's closed eyes, moving to thumb open the eyelids and expose the eyes, so he could use gaze to go in after him, try to rouse him. But even as he moved, the eyelids flickered, and opened. The rainbow-vivid eyes were clear and sane. For no reason she could think of, Kardia wanted to cry. "Oh man..." 'Raelf groaned softly, running a hand through the tousled gold at his temples, "...that was bigtime bogus. I'm still not quite myself. ...'Lo, you two," He grinned up at them, the same warm, friendly smile they knew. Kadrys and Kardia exchanged grins over 'Raelf's prone form, heaved twin sighs of relief. The satyr turned his eyes to Kardia, and shook his head, sadly, seeing her shawl pulled tight around her shoulders. "Kardia, oh no, I didn't say what I think I said? I'm sorry, it wasn't really me talking, I hope you can forgive me sometime." Kardia yielded to the impulse of her heart and flung her arms around 'Raelf, gave him the hug he had sought so insistently before. But there was all the difference in the world, this time: the embrace was given honestly rather than drawn out of a calculated play on her body's animal nature. He returned the embrace, hesitantly. Some of the dancers who had been looking at him when he had pulled Kadrys in, they were also looking stunned, but then the music picked up again and they rejoined the dancing. 'Raelf raised himself up on his elbows and looked around, sadly, at the panorama of bestial transformed figures. Half animal people, totally submerged in their celebration to the point that they had abandoned all pretense of rational thought, just bodies coupling with other bodies. He frowned. None of them had consented to his otherself's tampering, fantasy or not. He hadn't bothered to ask them. "Wow. Hieronymous Bosch, eat your heart out!" he muttered bleakly to himself, before turning a dismayed look at Kadrys and Kardia. He climbed to his hooves, leaned closer to murmur to Kadrys, "I owe you one, friend." "Nonsense. I still owe you, and Maribel, more than I can ever hope to repay." He grinned whitely, dispelling the sombre mood. "Some ... ah, interesting mental defenses you have there." "Yah, bit of the old 'I waaant my MTV' never goes astray..." 'Raelf looked at the live equivalent of a music video around them, or maybe a beer commercial gone horribly wrong, and far beyond the limits of prime time TV. "Now how am I gonna clean up this mess?" MagicHutchHeader From: foleye@xanth.CS.ORST.EDU (Stilt Man) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] Arcania vs. Zydrax Date: 21 May 1993 21:35:29 GMT Message-ID: <1tjhv1INNbqk@flop.ENGR.ORST.EDU> The raven perched on the guard tower had a very good view of the city of Generica. The bird made no outcry as the other birds in the air -- sea gulls, and the like -- squawked in protest to one of the guardsmen driving them away from a barrel of fish he'd caught them snacking at. The sable eyes were all for the town. The men in the red uniforms had come out again, with their large armored friend that the Shrouded One's contacts named Parsephulas. Interesting. The man looked over his shoulders nervously, as if he expected something most unpleasant to jump out at him at any time. Something bothered this Parsephulas. Curious. However, the others would miss her before long. The raven spread its wings and took flight for the Inn. Once there, the form of Kryalla Simuel the Shrouded One took shape from where the avian had landed moments before. The illusion of herself that kept the others unaware of her absence would maintain the silence to which they were accustomed, while allowing her to hear the conversation around her to a degree that anything that was said to the simulacrum would be relayed to her, so she didn't lose touch. But the mage Darvos might well detect her duplicity ere much longer. Time to get back. Under cloak, she took her place in the position of her illusion. The illusion moved, took up her exact posture, and faded. The true Shrouded One sat at the table with the others once more. As the others talked around her more, she thought of how it all fit together. This necromancer, Velric, obviously had an interest in the girl Lissa. Pars and Gutt Man were partially agents of Velric, partially of some other force. MagicHutchHeader This much Kryalla could tell from what occurred so far. But some piece of the puzzle was missing. She sipped at her mistwine and listened further. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= There it was again, Arcania mused. The scrying force she had felt earlier. Some wizard spied upon her, there was no question. From within her domain, for it was too close to have come from other soil. That meant Zydrax had been behind it, and not Bek. She waited a brief moment, until the scrying focused on her, then prepared the simulacrum. The spell she used was very similar to what Kryalla had used in the Inn, to make it appear she remained in once place while in actuality she was elsewhere, but this was less elaborate in some ways and more in others. She wouldn't hear anything said in the location of the image, nor would anyone actually physically present see it. Only one looking at it through some magical means would see the duplicate, still churning away at its writing, when in truth Arcania was using the rogue wizard's own constructs as the final nail in his coffin. She went to the next room, where a painting of a map decorated the entire floor. The magicks in the room were tuned to the construct occurring in the next. She already knew the source was close, and westerly in its direction. Soon . . . a point appeared, glittering red on a spot representing the western mountains of the Heartland of Thyaris, the Dragon's Teeth. The mounts were named for the many dragons' lairs that were there, keeping watch over her borders. However, it didn't seem as though the dragons were aware of it. Oh, well, Arcania would get to that as it came. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Zydrax himself was carefully watching Arcania's every move in her study. So far, she had given no sign of being spied upon, but then again, she never did. Foolish magess. The runes outmoded her power, and her pride never allowed her to admit it. All generated by the Ring. The lizard-man rushed into his chamber unannounced, and the runes guarding it seized hold of the creature, wringing screams of unutterable agony for its insolence. Zydrax started, turning to see the last shards of bone crumble into ashes. The creature had thought something urgent enough to defy his warnings. This bore investigation. He left the watch on Arcania active, confident that nothing would change while it was there. The lizardmen outside his chamber were more obedient of their master's warnings never to disturb him while he worked in his private chambers, but their frantic wavings and bleatings, gesturing towards the parapets, could not be mistaken. Zydrax, for a brief moment, knew fear. He arrogantly pushed it from his mind, when a booming voice, like thunder rolling over the hills, reached his ears. "Zydrax! Your tower lays bare to the eyes of those who surround it! Your attempts to hide it are futile! Come out, and do penance for your plotting!" His heart fell. Reaching the top of the parapet, he saw the army. The entire ground to the east, all the way to the horizon, was covered with daemons. At the head of that army was none other than Arcania Dorval. "Zydrax, I know of your scheming against the Empire, against the throne! Your devices are laid open to the naked scrutiny of all, your watches revealed, your time is done!" Zydrax's eyes bulged in fury and fright at once, as he ran to his chambers again. Arcania was still sitting there in her study. And yet she was here, knocking at his very door! "I do not think you understand me, Zydrax. Let this explain my position better!" A crack, not of thunder or lightning or other such mundane weapons of lesser wizards, but of the very stone of his tower, rang out in his ears. The glow of raw magical energy rushed through the mid-height below him, the cylinder of the tower's shape crumbling before its force. The stone walls shattered inward, the tower's mass falling outward from the mountainside, hurtling to the base of the hills before Arcania's amassed forces. Lizard-men squealed and were crushed in the dying tower's fall, but Zydrax's runes invoked the possibilities of his survival. A further construction of them from his Ring, and the possibility that a hole large enough for him to easily fit through would open in the wall next to him was brought forth, and then the notion that he was as light as a feather, drifting to the ground as the rubble fell below him without touching him. The probabilities that made up reality were altered, and his will was worked upon its being, such that he stood alone amidst the ruins of his shattered abode. It could be reconstructed with more magic, if he wished, but first there was an insect to be squashed for her effrontery. "Dark One, you arouse my wrath. Flee with your little gnats, and perhaps I will show mercy upon you," said Zydrax defiantly. For emphasis, the green and blue runes flew from his ring, formed into a large fiery boulder that bore down upon the woman standing some distance away. The boulder struck her, and instantly, it shattered, falling into the nothingness from which he had called it. Zydrax could do little but gape. He examined the field of the magic of his runes, could see no sign that they should have been disturbed. But when they touched her, they had simply unraveled, the boulder had disentigrated into less than dust. Zydrax didn't accept it. He weaved more runes from the Ring, turned them into chains of adamant that wrapped at the body and throat of Arcania, threatening to wring the life from her upon contact. They, too, disappeared. "How can this be?!" he exclaimed. "Probability runes," Arcania said with contempt. "And the superiority personality complex that goes with them, to judge from your words and actions thus far. I wonder that you never considered whether I might have encountered such before, or that there might be other forces, more subtle ones, that can deal with such careless tampering with reality. Forces that I might be able to wield against you." She walked up to him, took the Ring from his finger. Zydrax's mind couldn't comprehend what was happening. The daemons surrounded him, seized him. "Oh," Arcania said, almost as an afterthought. "You can move again now." He hadn't even detected her holding magic, hadn't even had an inkling of what was being done to him. "Not that it will do you any good." She turned to a hunched, ebon carapaced daemon that stood at her side. "He is yours. When you have finished with him, report to me at once." =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Pars sweated in the room BBD had prepared for him. His attempts to uncover the Shrouded One outside the Inn were unsuccessful for now, but why did Zydrax not contact him? He had been about to complete his demon-summoning ritual, announce that Arcania was out of the way. There. The call of the crystal. He palmed the azure orb in his hand, felt the thoughts of someone else come to him. "Greetings, Parsephulas," said Arcania. Pars had difficulty concealing his surprise. She must have sensed it, but she gave no notice of it. "I sense that you have not yet drawn the Shrouded One into your trap. Have patience. Yosef will draw her to you soon. However, I have some news you might find interesting." Pars' heart skipped a beat. He knew, even before she said it, what was to come. "I have apprehended a rogue wizard named Zydrax, who had established a tower in the western Dragon's Teeth and evidentally had been plotting to summon a demonic horde to battle against my daemons and over- throw me. He had in his possession some books I had not noticed missing from my library detailing names of such creatures' lords for use in the summoning." Here it came. The order to the Thurlans to tear him apart. He was a dead man. She knew. "It has come to my attention that, since no indication that there was an intrusion by outsiders into my libraries had been detected, one of my own people must have provided it. The daemons hold me in too much light to do such a thing. Have you any idea who that might have been, Parsephulas?" Damn her, anyway. She would have to toy with him over his doom! "I did not think so. Oh, well, it was worth asking, though I know you are too *loyal* to do such a thing. Carry on in your search for the Shrouded One. Oh, and Pars: DO-NOT-FAIL-ME." The last four words were pronounced with emphasis that he could hear echoing with the pulsing in his ears. He certainly didn't feel dead. No, the Thurlans made no indication that they were going to tear him apart. There were twenty of them in the room and only one of him. Four had come with him, sixteen later at BBD's request. They simply stayed in their human shapes, playing cards as any normal soldiers might be doing when off duty. Yosef still sat tied up in the corner, glaring at them all,though seeming to take perverse enjoyment at his apparent discomfort. Maybe they hadn't been told yet. No, they're concentrating on their games. Then what . . ? The meaning of her words thudded home at once. Yes, she knew, and no, she wouldn't order him killed. At least as long as he served her faithfully and effectively. A popping sound played in his ears. It was his rebellious pride. +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ + Kryalla Simuel the Shrouded One + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ + foleye@xanth.cs.orst.edu + +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+ MagicHutchHeader Date: Thursday, 20 May 1993 15:24:46 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93140.152446344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] [BDAY] Of Admiration and Recognizition [ADMIN: Sorry it's been a while since I personally posted anything. And it'll get worse before it gets better, considering I'll be gone for approx. a week starting Sunday. The BBD thread _will_ go on, though, if I can help it. Anyway, thanks to... well, all involved in this thread for working with me on this post, and maybe I (we) won't set the record for "longest wait after an event starts to acknowledge it" :-)!] >Good morning, I could not help overhear what you said before", his eyes >focused on Lancos, "I am interested in providing you with my services." > >Seeing that Lancos is waiting for something, the young follower of the source >adds, "My name is Tarkyn." "Tarkyn..." the warrior paused, as if the name struck a chord, and continued when something clicked mentally. "Oh, yes, I remember that name from when we last read the bulletin board. It shall be interesting to have a ranger in the party." Lancos smirked wryly. "You mean _another_ ranger, don't 'cha, Mr. Lancos?" Lissa chirped in. "If you insist, my dear lady." he said with a small nodding bow to her that made her blush slightly. Turning his attention back to Tarkyn, he continued, "Which reminds me; may I introduce..." "You need not bother." the ranger interrupted, holding up a hand to stop the conversation. "Among other things, I overheard your names.". After a moment's thought, he decided to add something to make his eavesdropping seem more... well, normal, "I guess you could say I like that sort of information. So, am I in?" Lancos' eyes focused on Darvos, silently suggesting he should field the question. Darvos took the cue. "I would", he paused," like to know a bit more about you first, but any additional assistance is welcome if our enemy is as crafty as he has shown himself to be so far. And besides, I realize I know little about anyone here anyways. The fact that you are willing to help should be enough in and of itself. Well met Tarkyn, please have a seat and relax for the moment." The others nodded at Darvos' sentiment, perhaps trusting in themselves and fate to see them through. "That answers every question I might have." Kaalzic said. "Except perhaps one. Namely, when do we start?" Lancos didn't need Darvos' gaze to tell him that _this_ query was his to answer. "Uh, tomorrow, I suppose. Darvos wants to take Lissa to the safety of their home, and I've got at least one thing I want to handle tonight. The rest of you can spend the time as you wish, gathering information or in festivity or whatever else strikes you fancy. Then we can meet back here early in the morning, and move out from there. Agreed? "Gather here tomorrow at the break of dawn. I shall provide a good breakfast for all. Then we may begin our plans." When everyone else remained silent, the warrior stated "Fine. If you will excuse me, then...". He left the table, Bast trailing behind per usual. Darvos also stood up from the table. "Till tomorrow then." Lissa was watching Lancos walk away with starry eyes and a small sigh escaped her lips. Then she realized Darvos was ready to leave. "G'Bye everybody." she smiled and then followed him out of the inn. * * * * Arienne had risen early, or at least early for her. Pushing her way out of the blankets and bodies that surrounded her, she scrounged for her clothes. As she pulled on her boots, she heard Darrien mumble something and grop for her. She leaned over his well-tanned form and kissed his ear. When he stilled she tiptoed to the door. "So long, lover." she purred and exited the room. Arienne loped down the stairs to the bar. She sat down and began listening to the whirr of voices that surrounded her. Focusing in on a name she heard, her attention turned towards Kryalla's table. >Lancos... dismissed worry, saying that he'd always have enough money to be >at least comfortable. This caught and held Arienne's intrest. Lancos had money along with everything else, apparently. Of course, for her this only made the prize greater. >"Fine, if you will excuse me, then...". He left the table, Bast trailing >behind per usual." Arienne's smile widened at hearing these words. Now her plan for "revenge" could be executed. Her eyes followed him up the stairs for a moment, before she decided to follow him bodily. He trodded upstairs, to his room in 39A [ADMIN: I wonder if others had as much "reason" {:-)!} behind their room numbers], unlocked the door, and entered. Once within, he gathered up the supplies he had left here, ever since he had had to make room for his present for Luthor and Serene's party. Meanwhile, Bast pranced around the room, familiarizing herself with what she apparently felt was more of her territory. She even tried to cuddle up on the bed for a nap. But by this time, Lancos had collected what he felt what needed, and would have none of the cat's shenanigans. He picked her up from the bed -- carefully cradling her -- and headed to the door. As he reached it, a noise in the hallway caught his attention. His mind panicked for a second, unwillingly running back to the last time he had encountered something like this. When he had been forced to jump out of a window with virtually no possessions, in order to avoid the wrath of some assassins. But then he remembered that the Dragon's Inn was protected against such violence, and visibly relaxed. Still, a bit of cautiousness remained. It disappeared -- and was replaced with different emotions -- when he saw that the noise was Arienne approaching his room. "What a pleasant surprise." she purred as she closed. "You must allow me the pleasure of your company, sir. I hope I have not interrupted something -- important. Lancos was a bit taken aback by the words. Perhaps he had misjudged the woman, or she had been under alcohol's influence before, for now she seemed kinder than when he first met her. "You needn't call me 'sir'. And actually, I'm involved with a quest right now, though I don't know that you would be interested in such a thing." "I have many interests that may surprise you," she returned. "What is this?" she queried, as she reached for the cat now hugging the ranger's legs. "Oh, this is Bast. She mainly seems to follow me around." "If this creature has adopted you, then perhaps I have something to learn from you as well? Would you care to join me for a drink? Or perhaps a walk outside?" she cooed, and clasped his right hand within both her comparatively tiny fists. She dragged him along for a step or two, and tugged playfully at at his tunic, bouncing about quite lavishly as she did so. Lancos only smiled at the behavior. "Either is fine. I _would_ like to go outside, though. After all, I've been reminded how much I appreciate the outdoors." He willingly followed her lead back down the stairs and out of the inn. By this time, a party was in full swing. Everywhere they looked, people were drinking or dancing or otherwise enjoying the founder's day. Fireworks exploded in the sky and music filled the air. It was nearly impossible to be alone in this area, but Arienne led them to a rather secluded spot. From where they sat only a band with a small crowd could be seen. The ribbon, so carefully tied, at the neck of Arienne's bodice chose that moment to loosen itself from its bow, exposing the crests of her ample bosom to view. Lancos' bretah stopped for a moment as he caught the sight. He tried to put forth a valiant attempt to not stare at her, but knew he was failing to do so. Underneath the light of the moon and stars and fireworks, with a small breeze blowing through her hair, he could not help but admire her beauty. Finding no words within him to adequately express his feelings, he let the moments pass without them. Arienne fluttered her eyelashes a bit and began to retie her wayward ribbon. But she did not have the modesty to turn away as she did so, nor did she ahve the mercy to pretend it hadn't happened. "I guess it's your turn, next." she uttered innocently as she stretched her arms around his neck and pressed her body up against his. And part of Lancos' mind was very willing to comply. It told him that for all purposes it had been _too_ long since a woman's skin touched his. The touch of skin, the smell of her perfume, the feel of her warm breath on his face, all of it was intoxicating. It told him to combine his recent emotional pleasure from uniting Little Rat and 'Raelf with a more physical one. And the music. The lyrics weren't as important as the feel of the beat, as far as his emotions were concerned. It seemed to be only encouraging his wild behavior. However, it was also taking him in another direction. He felt an animalistic urge in hearing it, and could not attribute it solely to the satyr he saw -- out of the corner of one eye -- was leading the band. He heard his medallion call to him louder than it had since they had been in Ak' Irneg. It told him to rid himself on everything here, put it on, give it control, let him be the animal he could be, and run and enjoy life not only for this night but for endless nights on. And for a change, the idea was so... tempting. For a countless period, the two emotions clashed in Lancos' mind and heart. * * * A demon -- disguised as a clown -- came upon another young couple that looked like they could use his special jewelry. Stepping near them, he stated, "Excuse me, young lovers, but could I interest the gentleman in a ring for the lady? The cost to either of you would be minimal, not even worth speaking of." Lancos' internal battle was put on hold -- before either side could really win, so to speak -- by the clown. However, one thing he totally agreed on was that he didn't need the interruption, or want to give Arienne that sort of relatively minor gift at the moment. "No thank you." he said unexpectedly coldly. "I don't think that's necessary." "But come on. I know you'd both enjoy it." "No." he said firmly. "When and if I wish to give something to her, I can do so from my own accord." The demon backed off from the duo. He figured that he had accidently stumbled upon a previous success for the night, and didn't want to interfere in the other's business. Especially when there were so many other targets available. "Don't you like me?" Arienne asked rather downheartedly. "Or don't you think I deserve that. I _do_ like jewelry, you know." "Well, gifts like that should be special. And if I ever gave you something along those lines, I doubt it would be a ring. A ring might only remind me of a past love, and I'd want an item that would make me think of the person I shared it with." "All right. Now shall we have that drink?" she teased. Her warm breath tickled his lips. "Yes, let's go back inside.". During the clown's presence, rational thought had returned. It had told him that all was not right, and that he best avoid whatever was awry. They went inside and sat in a private spot. There, the pressure from the medallion largely ceased, but his attraction to Arienne hadn't as such. He wanted their next meeting to be more assured than a surprise, and knew a way to insure it. "Say, I just realized something. You know the group I'm with? How would you like to join us? I don't know what would be required of you, but I'd bet you'd find your niche, hopefully without having to fight too much if you didn't want to." "All right. You better believe I'll fit in, and I think there's much I could learn from you and your companions. And believe it or not, I enjoy a good killing every now and again. I haven't made one in quite some time now..." Lancos smiled, not wanting to register the ramifications of the last few sentences. Now even his practical side was satisfied about her coming, though. Even though the chances for tonight might be lost, the future was unlimited as far as his and Arienne's relationship was concerned. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu SAQ: "When you look at the impossible, many things are possible"-from the [DQ] MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] Palandun: Ods bodkins. Message-ID: <1993May23.232457.27321@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Sun, 23 May 93 23:24:57 GMT ADMIN: Sorry I was gone for so long, I would have warned everybody, but I couldn't. Yes, this is my summer home. Oh, could sombody mail me and let me know what happened in the thread up till now? I have a vague idea, but I would like to know. Palandun listened patiently to the story of the Giant Rat adventure and watched the person telling it get pulled into his own hat, then he stood up, mumbled something about being sorry and needing air, and staggered out the door. "Groan" He said, leaning against a street lamp a few blocks down the Arcade of Unforgotten Heroes. "Are you all right?" a voice asked. "Yeah!" Palandun replied, streightening up and trying to look enthusiatic, "I feel fine. Just came over queer for a minute there." "Queer? Maybe you should see a doctor." One of the tall, cloaked figures which seemed to be ubiquitous in the city of Generica produced itself from behind the statue of Norad the Watchful. "I'll take you." "No, really, I feel fine!" Palandun said, wondering if he would break out in the old Goal-Ball cheers the women of It-Atta were so fond of cheering every time the males went out to play. He decided to tone down the cheerfulness. "You are in perfect health?" The H.S. asked again. Palandun nodded. "In that case..." The Hooded stranger shed it's cloak, revealing itself as a humanoid, with a skull for a head and rotting flesh over it's body. It wore a simple tunic and shorts with a sword at it's belt. "I'll take your health, please, Lieutenant Palandun." That the thing had called Palandun by his rank gave him a clue as to what it was. During the fourth orc war Palandun's Platoon had run into a section of forest filled with drainers, semi-undead which leached the health of whomever they managed to grab. There were two ways to defeat them: the hard way, which consisted of dicing them with your sword while avoiding contact with them; and the easy way, which was to lop off one of your own arms or catch some vile disease or something, thereby reducing your own health and making you a bad target. Palandun opted for the hard way. "Not on your life...er...death!" He cried, leaping behind the statue of Darvon, Releiver of Pain. Gynsoo emerged from it's sheath. The drainer pulled its own sword and walked swiftly towards it's quarry. "Don't make this hard, or I'll let you live." It said, holding the sword aloft and proceeding through the statue, leaving it's clothes behind. Palandun blocked it's first swing, then stood back. "One-handed sword, huh?" Palandun remarked, more to himself than anyone else. Gynsoo was a hand and a half sword, capable of being either wielded in one or two hands, but not perfect in either. Palandun decided to go one-handed too. - Palandun's chances improved considerably when Gynsoo's cutting edge (which would cut practically anything) got a handle on the drainer's sword and sliced it midway along the blade, the shard flying off into the night. Palandun pressed his advantage, relieving the drainer of his forarm, jaw, and the top of it's head. The drainer went through some goofy motions and produced a mist that swirled through the whole area. Palandun had seen this before, too, folded himself in his grey cloak, and moved as silently as he could out of the mist. The important part was to keep moving,in an unexpected- "Erp!" Palandun crashed to the ground, dropping Gynsoo and rolling, the drainer on his back. He felt himself sickening, aging, decaying. Palandun felt the half-sword against his throat, and this gave him an idea. He brought his arms up to kill himself. The drainer, not wanting a dead body that would leech health out of him, moved the sword out of the way. Palandun escaped from the drainer, grabbed gynsoo, and Whacked with what strength he could at the joining of the legs and the body... "Come back here you coward, I'll bite your legs off!" The drainer screamed as best he could after the slowly retreating Bismanian. Palandun staggered without sense of direction until he came to a temple, where he collapsed before the locked gate and weakly said "help." An acolyte appeared, examined the slumped body, and told her companion, "Fetch Selene, we have a suppliant." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: jurdm@valiant.vut.EDU.AU (Firecat) Subject: Firecat....nuff sed! Message-ID: Date: Mon, 24 May 1993 02:36:02 GMT With a yawn, the gnome's eyes open and take in his surroundings and quickly close again, protecting themselves from the bright glare of sun. "How long have I slept I wonder....hmmmm" he says to himself. With obvious effort, he raises himself and calls for a bath from the open door. After an invigorating bath, he feels a lot better, and after toweling himself with a very thirsty towel, he decides to go down and see if anyone recognises him. "After I shave off this beard of course," he reminds himself after glancing in a mirror. A thick and luxurious beard had grown since he had last had time to shave. "I wonder if there are any newcomers or some stories I have missed while being asleep." Climbing down the stairs, he hears again the noises of the Dragon's Inn and feels himself at home. He finds himself a table, orders a large plate of fries and a Borduvian Liqueur and leans back as he looks around the room. "Ahh....I've missed this place." -- This is my .sig until further notice... Mail jurdm@valiant.vut.edu.au with any comments, opinions, statements, or even facts.... Also known as: Fablox, Snowlock and Duncan .....in many different places... MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Bulletin Board Date: 24 May 1993 01:07:15 GMT Message-ID: <1tp743$cs5@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: Bulletin, board, admin -=- Dragon's Inn Bulletin Board -=- week ending 21-May-93 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NEW THIS WEEK: none -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OTHER ACTIVE POSTS: Posted by: Imports, Exports, and Arms (Jeremy Nelson, gujn@uniwa.edu.au) Content: WE apologize for any time distortions in the local area, however, due to testing of a device (Henceforward known as 'The Thing'), the local timestream has become dislocated. There is no danger, however some people may undergo slight disorientation. Some people may apparently find themselves in multiple locations at one time. We assure customers that this is not dangerous, and all time lines are in fact continuous, and will straighten themselves out in time. We recommend leaving early for any important appointments. Normal service will be restored tomorrow, yesterday, in three weeks' time, and in three hundred and thirty years. All complaints should be forwarded to: Imports, Exports, and Arms. We thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Moriarty (Aaron Humphrey, aaron@space.ualberta.ca) Content: |-------------------------------| | Moriarty Investigations, Inc. | | | | Magic and muscle at your | | service! No problem too large | | or small! Reasonable rates! | | | | 15A-Gamma Cor Caroli Lane | | Just off the Arcade of | | Unforgotten Heroes! | |-------------------------------| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Trawm (The Dreamer, asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Content: Attention all Real Men: If you is reading this then you is in the rong bar. Come to the Spitting Cobra were you can have a good time at a good prise. FITING ENKOURAGED. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Malthus Dela Noeuze (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Content: **************************************** ** Perfumerie Grand Veneur ** ** Is Seeking a Person To ** ** Find and Bring Back a Great ** ** Blooddrinker or Souleater ** ** For Perfumeric Substances ** ** All Contacts Considered ** ** ** ** Master Perfumerist Malthus ** ** Dela Noeuze ** **************************************** SPECIAL STATUS: Posted by: Zenith (Mike Bavister, mrhyde@netcom.com Content: ANNOUNCING THE A.P.D-I ARCHIVES I have been carefully recording all that has transpired here at the Inn and in Generica. I estimate that my archives are missing less than 1 in 100. The archives contain over 4600 chapters (articles) in 20 huge volumes (MB). Currently the archives are only indexed by Subject (Subject line), but my trusty scribes are hard at work attempting to compile a keyword-index by name, place, and "thread". Alas, this task may take a while. There are two methods by which you, the citizens of Generica, can access the archives (and their indexes). Via the Post-Office or by Magic. Via Mail: Send mail to the address below, with your request in the body of the message. I will then search the index(es) for you, and either mail you the matching "chapters" or a list of matches (if there are too many "hits"). Until the keyword index is compiled, I will be very reluctant to search the actual archives for your requests. TO: mrhyde@netcom.com. EXAMPLE: Dear Zenith, Please search your archives for all occurance of "Lancos" or "Zebron". Thanks. Via Magic: I have set aside a portion of my personal library for the Indexes and other materials of interest. If you know the powerful "FTP" spell, you can access the indexes directly. The arcane formula is listed below. This archive is "read-only", you may retrieve anything you like from it, but you can't place anything there. If there is something you'd like placed there for the benefit of all Generican citizens, let me know via mail. Do not forget to use "binary mode" for all not in ".txt" format. The FTP library currently contains: Subject indexes (no.1-no.3999) The Directory of Generica (latest edition) JourneyGarb flyer/catalog APDI FAQs (full and mini) And coming soon: The DragonQuest Saga *note* All ".zip" files are compressed using the latest state-of-the-art compression magic. Older uncompression magic may not work (use "zip19" or "pkzip2.04"). If you have any difficulty with either the transfer of files or decompression, please let me know. ftp netcom.com(192.100.81.100) login: anonymous password: (your e-mail address) cd /pub/mrhyde/APDI Cheers and happy reading ____ / __ __ o _|_ | / |__| | | | | |__ /___ |__ | | | |_/ | | Head Librarian of the Great Library of Generica -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- REMOVED THIS WEEK : none _________________________________________________________________________ ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] A Day in the Life Date: Mon, 24 May 93 09:52:44 CDT Message-ID: <16BD88AEC.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu> Keywords: Andrea Sheryl Jay unicorn transition rescue new friend ADMIN: I'm still away until June 7th. I just managed to get back up here temporarily to put this out. See you in June! ----- DEDICATION: This segment is dedicated to Liralen Li, who has been a big help to me in my stories, and whose terse comments on whatever I churn out are always worth a great deal to me. ----- In our last episodes, Andrea, Sheryl, and Jake Pitzar fought off a brigand attack on the small abandoned house where they're staying the night, and set up shifts for the rest of the night. Andrea has been undergoing some strange...changes. The next morning found Andrea staring out the window as the sun slowly rose on the eastern horizon. There had been no incidents during the night, and she had been startled to find that Jake had stood watch almost the whole night, only waking her up about an hour ago. "You looked like you needed it," was all he'd said before retiring himself. Now Andrea sat there, half-asleep. She yawned, and Sheryl came trotting over. "Good morning, sister!" she nickered brightly. Andrea jumped. "What?" Sheryl nickered again, and this time Andrea couldn't understand it. "Wait a minute..." Andrea said aloud. "Yesterday morning I was able to understand you, too, when I was only half-awake. But when I was fully awake, I couldn't. Hmmm. Let's try a little experiment." As Jake stirred, she said, "But let's try it outside. C'mon, Sheryl." They stepped outdoors, where the rising sun was touching the dew-tipped grass with sparkles of light. "Now...let's try to understand each other..." she said, half-closing her eyes, trying to concentrate on sleep. Then something inside her SHIFTED, somehow, and her right hand started to pulse coolly. When she opened her eyes everything looked...different. Sharper, somehow, and clearer. Though Andrea didn't know it, her eyes had just become electric blue, matching Sheryl's for color. "Sister, can you understand me?" Sheryl whinnied. "Yes!" Andrea cried. "Yes, yes I can!" She knelt and embraced Sheryl. Tears came to her eyes. For the first time in over ten years, she could actually understand what her sister was saying! Sheryl seemed to be not a little emotional herself. "Sheryl..." Andrea said. "Are you well? Is there anything wrong, anything that's bothering you? I've never been able to ask that before and expect any kind of an answer." Sheryl tossed her head. "No," she replied. "You've always been the best sister a unicorn could hope to have." "Good. That's the one thing that I really wanted to know. But tell me, how did we get here?" Andrea feared she knew the answer already, but she wanted independant confirmation from Sheryl. "It's just as that man said," Sheryl nickered. "You became a unicorn, and ran. I'm worried." Andrea shook her head, becoming more agitated. "But how could that be? What has happened to me?" "I don't know. Evil one's curse?" "But we deflected it." "Maybe not all." Andrea shook her head violently, more in the manner of an equine tossing its head than the human gesture of denial. "It can't be...it just can't..." "Sister, you're changing!" Sheryl whinnied nervously. And Andrea looked down at her arms to see that they were lengthening, her fingers melding together into hooves, arms and legs stiffening...and then, suddenly, she stood on four legs, looking out through the eyes of a unicorn. "I--I am a unicorn!" Andrea nickered in amazement, confusion, and horror. "So you are," Sheryl agreed. "But what am I going to do?" "Run!" Sheryl suggested exuberantly. "Let's go!" "Seeing as I don't have any other pressing engagements, I might as well," Andrea whinnied wryly. And they were off! <> Andrea and Sheryl galloped together, and the landscape seemed to blur behind them. They ran through grassy meadows, over hills and through valleys, under the trees of an old forest, and alongside a river for several miles. Andrea had never known a feeling like this, complete and utter freedom, unmarred by human cares and concerns. She was beginning to appreciate why Sheryl would rather stay a 'corn. THONK! Andrea felt a sharp pain in her right flank. She stumbled, fell over, got unsteadily to her feet. She was horrified to find an arrow sticking out of her hindquarter! "Got it!" a voice came from the bushes. "But what IS it?" "It's a unicorn!" The two hunters emerged from the bushes. They wore leather jerkins, and carried bows and hunting knives. "Not a deer at all. Better!" "Sheryl, run!" Andrea whinnied. "Get out of here, get Jake's help!" "Get that other one!" But before the hunters could move, Sheryl's horn began to glow, releasing a sparkling cloud that cascaded down over her, and then she was gone. Andrea wished she knew how to do that. "Quick, get it before it escapes!" The two man ran forward, and Andrea stepped back. As they came closer, Andrea stepped back farther--then the ground gave way beneath her, and she was suddenly in the river! Caught in the current, she was carried swiftly downstream, as she struggled to keep her head above the water. Jay ran up the street as fast as his limping legs would carry him, out past the shops at the edge of town and into the woods, toward his secret hiding-place. The blond-haired, lanky fourteen-year-old was battered and bruised from his stepfather's latest beating, and holding back tears from the pain as he stumbled down the trail, tripping over some roots but getting up again and moving onward. He was going to leave this town. Yes, he would do just that. There was nothing here for him, anyway, except an abusive stepfather and the scorn of all the other kids. Nothing would hold him here any longer. Maybe he would go to Generica! The river was just ahead. There he could wash off the blood and dirt before moving onward to his hidden place. It flowed through the forest, and, it was said, on into the Great Blue. Jay didn't know this for certain; he'd never been there, after all. Jay stumbled down the dirt embankment into the river ford with a splash. The soothing coolness was a welcome sensation after the beating he had just received. And then he heard the sound of something struggling in the water. He looked upstream, and gasped. There was a horse or something in the water, fighting the current. It was swimming over toward shore...toward the very ford Jay was sitting next to, in fact. It looked very bedraggled, almost spent...Jay moved forward to help it ashore. A horse! It could be his ticket to Generica! And then he saw its horn. "A unicorn!" Jay breathed, even as he lent his support to the mare, helping her ashore. She stood on the embankment, head drooping, mane and tail hanging in sodden clumps. There was an arrow sticking out of her right flank. "Gods, who would shoot an arrow into a unicorn?" Jay breathed as he examined it closely. The mare swung her head around, observing him with soulful blue eyes. She nickered weakly. "Don't worry, girl..." Jay said. "Hmmm..." He looked at the arrow. He'd watched the local cleric remove arrows plenty of times. He THOUGHT he could do it... "This is prob'ly going to hurt a lot." The 'corn nodded. Or so Jay thought (did unicorns nod? Were they that intelligent?). "All right, then..." Jay reached down and grasped the arrow by the haft. The mare flinched, but didn't bolt. Gently he tugged, gradually working the arrow free of the wound with the head intact. "There!" he announced triumphantly, holding the gory arrow up for her inspection. He threw it in the river. "Hmmm. What can I do about that wound?" Then looking down at his own shirt, torn and bloody from from the most recent beating, he smiled. "Well, this shirt's torn up anyway." He tore a strip off of it, washed it in the river, and used the sap from a nearby pine tree to make it stick to the unicorn's flank where the wound was. Looking at the remains of the shirt, Jay shrugged, and tore it off. Casting it in the river, he said, "Better off without it." Of course, it also made the crisscrossing pattern of scars from old beatings and welts from more recent ones show up on his chest and back. The unicorn still stood there weakly. "We have to get you to some shelter before someone else comes along and notices you. And I think I have just the place. Follow me." He started walking along the shore, looked back and saw that the unicorn hadn't started moving. He walked back to her. "Come on, you can make it...it's only a little ways along, and it's nice and warm and dry in there," he pleaded. "Come on...please?" Jay didn't know why, but he felt he had to save this 'corn, he was responsible for her safety. He was extremely happy when she started to come along, stumbling a bit, head down, limping, but still coming. "It's just a little farther," Jay said, glancing back over his shoulder to be sure the 'corn was keeping up. They rounded a bend, and Jay pushed some bushes aside, revealing a small cave. "Come in here, please." Without even looking up, the unicorn stepped inside. Jay pulled the bushes back into place behind him, and lit a lamp hanging on the side of the cave. Illuminated by the glow was a small room, with two old wooden stalls, a campfire spot, and a small spring in the middle of one of the walls. The stalls were filled with hay, old but dry. There was also a small chest up against one of the walls. Jay believed this to be an old smugglers' haven from bygone days. "You can sleep in here until you're feeling better," Jay said. "I'm going to be in here a lot, too. Oh, by the way, my name's Jay." The unicorn stumbled into the stall, lay down on the soft hay, and was soon breathing regularly, in a deep sleep. Jay set to building a fire to warm the room. Then he searched the corner for where some old rags were, and started rubbing down the wet, sleeping 'corn so she wouldn't catch a chill. She stirred a little in her sleep, but didn't wake. With her wound and the exertion of her struggle against the river, she was going to be under for a while. As Jay finished, his own wounds started to ache, and he sat down by the fire, which was by now beginning to crackle quite nicely. As he looked at the unicorn mare, he wondered what he was going to do. The thought of betraying her to those who would pay dearly for a unicorn never even crossed his mind, of course. Jay could see that he would have to return to the town despite his vow to leave and not return, to obtain food and medicine. He sighed. He'd just have to avoid his stepfather, he guessed. After a few moments' rest, Jay stood, and walked out of the cave. Andrea woke in strange surroundings, feeling strangely weak. She opened her eyes to look around--and realized that she was a unicorn! "Oooh...what happened..." she groaned, though all an onlooker would have heard was a pained whinny. "Sheryl?" And then she started to remember... Recalling the arrow wound, Andrea winced, and swung her head back to take a look. It had been bandaged...but who had...? Then she recalled the young boy who had helped her out of the river, pulled the arrow out, and led her here, to this shelter. He'd said his name was Jay, she recalled... The fire in the room was dying away to embers, the smoke floating up through a small hole in the ceiling through which a bit of sunlight was also visible. The boy was nowhere in sight. And Sheryl was also not around. Andrea remembered sending her for help from Jake, and hoped she'd made it, for Sheryl's own sake. When she tried to stand up, Andrea discovered that her leg was painfully stiff, and she ached all over from the exertion of struggling against the river current. She snorted in pain, but finally managed to get to her feet, bits of hay sticking to her. "I'd better change back to human form and get out of here." Andrea concentrated on becoming human...and nothing happened! She tried again, tried harder...she felt SOMETHING, but she didn't change. She tossed her head, panic in her eyes. Was it because of her wound, her lack of control over the change, or some more insidious effect of the curse? Andrea had no way of knowing! Then the bushes that covered the cave mouth rustled, and Andrea backed up in the stall, head lowered, horn pointing toward the young man who came in, a new shirt and knapsack on his back. "Hey, easy, girl, it's just me, Jay." Andrea relaxed as the young man came forward. "Hmm, the fire's going down, better fix that back up." He put the satchel on the ground and added more wood to the fire. "So...you new around here?" Jay asked, opening the backpack. Andrea snorted, demonstrating the extent of her conversational abilities. "Oh, right, you can't talk. You seem smart enough, though." Andrea WISHED she could demonstrate just how smart she was, but she couldn't talk, and she couldn't change back. Now she was truly beginning to appreciate how Sheryl had to have felt for all these years. "I brought some healing salve and bandages for that cut of yours." He chuckled. "The cleric thought it was for me, for obvious reasons. I didn't tell him I had a unicorn in my cave." He laughed. "As if he'd believe me if I did." He set the jar down, and pulled out a currycomb and brush. "I had to swipe these from the stalls. But they'll never miss them." Next out of the bag was a sack of oats. "I didn't know what unicorns eat, so I took some grain from the stall while I was at it. There should be enough for a couple of meals for you here." He pulled out something else--a rather large hunting knife. He strapped it on. "Since I don't plan to go back there for much longer, I took this. If they can't find me, they can't beat me." Andrea chuckled, though it came out as a neigh. That had been her philosophy during her training days so long ago, when she had taken whatever she could get away with from the Selactican shops. "Anyway, first I'd better put some of this on your cut." He uncapped the jar of salve and approached her, pulling off the bandage. "Okay, it doesn't seem to be infected. Ah, okay now, here we go...good girl." He placed a fresh bandage on Andrea's wound, then stepped back. "How's that?" Andrea nickered and nodded her head. It really did feel better! The salve seemed to have some sort of numbing property, which made it easier to move that leg. It was probably helping it heal, too. "Good." He picked up the comb and brush. "Now I'll just go over you with these...if you have no objections, of course." Andrea snorted. "I'll take that as a 'yes,' Jay said, moving in closer to her and starting to brush. "You really do look a mess, you know." Andrea relaxed as Jay brushed and combed her, working out the snarls in her mane and tail and getting all the dirt out of her coat. It felt great, like a backrub might feel to a human. Maybe being a unicorn wasn't so bad after all...? As Jay worked her over, Andrea glanced back at him. He'd taken his shirt off as he worked, revealing scars and deep welts that made Andrea wince to look at. Gods, but those had to HURT! If only there was something she could DO...But wait a minute, she was a unicorn, maybe there WAS! Andrea reached out toward him with her horn. Jay looked up. "Huh?" But he didn't move, he just stood there, letting Andrea touch him. Now how did Sheryl do this? It surely wasn't just the touch...it had to involve concentration, too, didn't it? Andrea relaxed, let herself sense the flow of magic within herself. Now, if she could just redirect some of that energy through her horn...Yes, she could do it! Andrea's horn began to glow, and the glow gradually spread over Jay's abraded back, chest, arms, and legs. Under this glow, the lesions gradually closed up, leaving no trace behind them. Jay gasped. "Wow! he said, speechless. "You healed me!" He hugged her around her neck. "Oh, thank you, unicorn! Thank you." Andrea nickered softly, and hoped he would continue with his brushing. He did, working faster now that he didn't have those welts slowing him up. When he was finished, he sat back against the wall and grinned at her. "Hey, you're really pretty now that you're all groomed," he said. And it was true, Andrea saw, examining herself in the pool as she drank from the spring. She was once more the archetypal unicorn, gleaming white with electric blue eyes, luxuriant mane and tail, and gleaming bright horn and hooves, one of the most beautiful creatures ever seen. "Hey, not bad!" Andrea nickered, though of course Jay couldn't understand her. "I look like a real unicorn!" "You're probably pretty hungry, aren't you?" Jay asked. Andrea hadn't thought about it, but now that she did she realized that her stomach was quite empty. She nodded, nickering hungrily. "I thought so." Jay picked up the sack of oats and crossed to the feed trough set into one of the cavern walls. "Hope you don't mind oats...they were all I could get." Andrea was a little doubtful, but then, Sheryl seemed to like them okay, and she WAS hungry enough to eat just about anything...She trotted over to the trough and waited impatiently as he poured some of the oats into it. She took a bite, chewed experimentally..."Wow!" Andrea nickered. "These are really good!" She started eating ravenously. "I guess that means you like them, then," said Jay, who had only heard a couple of pleased nickers. Andrea nodded, nearly bumping her head on the wall, and continued eating. Jay laughed, and took some tools out of his backpack and started tinkering around with a rusty old padlock. It was a set of lockpicks, Andrea noticed, and he was trying to get it open. And he was going about it all wrong. Andrea nickered, "No...you're not doing it right!" but Jay just heard the nicker and thought she was curious. "You wonder what I'm doing? I'm just practicing lockpicking. I learned a bit from a travelling thief, before the people in town drove him out. I hope I can become good enough at it to make a living by it wherever I decide to go from here." He hadn't learned enough, that was for sure! Andrea wished she could tell him the right way, but she was stuck as a unicorn and could not talk. Maybe if she tried again to change back...no, she couldn't do it! All she could do was hope that she would eventually revert without trying, as she had in the past. Jay continued to try to get the lock to open, and finally gave up on it in disgust. "As you can see, I guess have a lot to learn." Andrea nickered and nodded. Jay looked up. "Oh, I guess you may not approve of my trying to learn a thief's trade, being a unicorn and all. But if you don't, you sure haven't indicated it. Funny, I'd always heard unicorns were supposed to be obsessed with good and all that." Andrea snorted. If only he knew about how she and Sheryl had been together for over ten years...then he'd see that a thief and a unicorn wasn't such an unlikely companionship. It all depended on the unicorn. Jay finally put the lock and tools aside. "I guess I'm just not getting it," he said. "I'll try again later." Andrea thought that might probably be a good idea. The boy walked over to the cave entrance, shoved the bushes that camouflaged it aside. "Say, would you like to graze a little? There's some pretty good grass out here by the river." "Why not?" Andrea nickered, walking toward the entrance. Jay held the bushes aside for Andrea to pass, then followed her and let them flop back into place. Andrea looked around, and saw that there was quite a bit of grass in the fifty or so feet between the cave entrance and the riverside. She stepped forward, put her head down, and started grazing. And she found that grass actually tasted DELICIOUS. Why hadn't she ever thought of eating it before? ("Because you weren't a unicorn then, silly!" she told herself wryly.) It sure was good; she could really fill up this way! Several hours passed, as Andrea grazed and enjoyed the afternoon sunlight, and Jay sat against a tree, knees drawn up to his chest, watching her. As the sun warmed her, Andrea could feel her strength coming back, but she was still rather tired from the day's events and sore from her wound. As the sun set on the western horizon, she was only too glad to follow Jay back into the small cave, where he built up the fire while she lay down to rest in the soft hay. As the fire crackled, Jay found a spot of his own in the hay. "Good night, unicorn," he said. Andrea nickered softly in response, and they both fell asleep. Sometime in the night, Andrea woke up to find Jay snuggled up against her back. She went back to sleep. [Note about the music: Since one of my little brothers has lost my Enya tape, I'm not certain about the title of the song mentioned above. If it's the fairly rapid one from "Shepherd Moon" that is very evocative (IMHO) of unicorns galloping, then that's the one. If not, you know which one I mean. If you haven't heard "Shepherd Moon" (or even heard of Enya), then this probably won't mean anything to you anyway.] -- Chris Meadows || NOTICE: I am still away until June 7. CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || I managed to get back up here for a CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || couple of hours so that I could post CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || a few things. See ya June 7th! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [BDAY] [MG] And In the End We're Back Where We Started Message-ID: References: Date: Mon, 24 May 1993 17:02:37 GMT [ADMIN] Thanks to all the folks whose characters appear herein for the permission to use them and for help with dialogue and actions. Anyone wanting to know who goes with what character - read the Admin postings... --00-- The Dragon's Inn was still focus for celebration for the majority of the adventurers, though the crowd had dropped off a little as a more distant party attracted some of the casual wanderers-by. ar'Elya grunted. Holding this barbarian-hero form was beginning to be boring, it was more appropriate for action, and 'Raelf was in no particular mood for action. The demons were fastidiously avoiding their area, after their earlier defeats, and after the leaders had drawn them off in pursuit of that damned elf, so the earlier disruptions and fights had been replaced by a more lighthearted mood. The dances in the Plaza of Glittering Steel were beginning again as Listener returned from his break, and the 'kan barbarian had half-decided to shift to some other body and go off to the dance. "'Lo!" A teenage girl with eyes the color of a spring shower looked up at the BIG barbarian. She smiled at him, "Couldja tell me how I kin find the person who owns these?" She held out in her hand two silver and two copper coins. "I wanted to give 'em back to her..." "No idea, but my mate over here might know," he said, leading her to the table where 'Raelf was sitting with Krupp Faraway, trading bad puns in Orcish. 'Raelf looked up blearily. "I know you. You tried to rob my friend Kardia. Howcome you're a goddess now?" "'sa long story. I want to give her money back. Hey, you look awful," she said, tilting her head to one side while she stared at him. "Yeah, I know," 'Raelf said, and finished another mug of the Catamount Porter. "I'm losing the battle." "Oh. Well, don't give up." She kissed him on the forehead, and stuck a paper pinwheel behind his ear. He smiled slowly. "Thanks, Joy. I never have." He grinned and chugged another mugful. Meanwhile, the girl sat down next to Krupp with her hands clasped in her lap, impishly looking away whenever he tried to catch her eye. 'Raelf looked at his empty mug. "Rowan? Any more?" The innkeeper walked over with a tray filled with pitchers. "'Raelf, you drink too much." Rowan scowled. "How many times have you seen me drunk?" 'Raelf stood up, caught four of the empty pitchers off the table, and began to juggle them in a crossover pattern. Rowan raised a brow and settled four full pitchers on the table, then answered. "Just the once, when Zia died. OK. What's up?" "Stokin' for a big fight comin' tomorrow." "Well. Do us proud, mage." He caught the pitchers one at a time in his free hand, settling them on the tray. "Right. Hey, Krupp, stop playing footsie with the goddess, she's gotta go find Kardia. The coins belong to her, Joy. She's off dancing with Kadrys, over by the town square." "'kay. Could you show me?" she asked the barbarian. "Only if we get to dance first." "Deal. Bye, Krupp." She kissed him on the top of his head and skipped away, hand in hand with the grinning redhaired barbarian. He was saying something about "absolutely no disco" while she fastened pinwheels to the sword-sheath slung across his back. Krupp felt his eyes uncrossing - that burst of sheer happiness had been almost more than he could handle. Then he saw Luthor Anside dancing overhead, with a bad-news woman out of the bottom of a bottle of really bad Orcish vodka. He jammed his fedora on and rushed off, muttering something about all these people who dance with anything. 0 - - - 0 + Some of the dancers who had been looking at him when he had + pulled Kadrys in, they were also looking stunned, but then the music + picked up again and they rejoined the dancing. 'Raelf raised himself + up on his elbows and looked around, sadly, at the panorama of bestial + transformed figures. Half animal people, totally submerged in their + celebration to the point that they had abandoned all pretense of + rational thought, just bodies coupling with other bodies. He frowned. + None of them had consented to his otherself's tampering, fantasy or + not. He hadn't bothered to ask them. + "Wow. Hieronymous Bosch, eat your heart out!" he muttered + bleakly to himself, before turning a dismayed look at Kadrys and Kardia. + He climbed to his hooves, leaned closer to murmur to Kadrys, + "I owe you one, friend." + "Nonsense. I still owe you, and Maribel, more than I can ever + hope to repay." He grinned whitely, dispelling the sombre mood. + "Some ... ah, interesting mental defenses you have there." + "Yah, bit of the old 'I waaant my MTV' never goes astray..." + 'Raelf looked at the live equivalent of a music video around them, + or maybe a beer commercial gone horribly wrong, and far beyond the + limits of prime time TV. + "Now how am I gonna clean up this mess?" Kardia grinned crookedly and unfurled her shawl. "Would this help?" 'Raelf blinked. "Not a good idea this time, I think. They're really into it, and breaking the spell would be major shock." Kardia nodded. "Yeah, that makes sense." Her eyes widened as the air behind 'Raelf whirled and the male-hero facet of ar'Elya's multiple-self spun into being, on roller-blades, carrying a laughing young girl in his arms. She was no more than fifteen, and she laughed delightedly and then looked around, frowning slightly at what she saw. "Wow. Interesting party," the barbarian drawled, setting the girl on the stone dias as he skated forward and behind the satyr, resting his hands on the broad shoulders. "You really got into this one." "More than shows," the golden satyr replied. "Those guys in the band have quite a bit of power now." "Not to mention a lot of off-world music," Kardia said drily. Kadrys placed a hand across her shoulder, avoiding the scarf. "So how we gonna let them down easy?" 'Raelf asked. "Wow, can I help?" The young girl had walked around the raised stone of the dias. 'Raelf stared at her, astonished. "Joy cometh in the morning," he muttered cryptically. "No, I come around whenever I feel like it," she replied. "How do you want to help?" 'Raelf looked at himself, frowned, pulling at the golden fur on the goats-legs, and FLICK his surfer-form returned, then FLICK he reverted, a satyr again. She laughed, a tinkling bell sound that the band took up with enthusiasm, blending it with their current improvisation. "Oh bummer." 'Raelf looked ruefully at himself. "I think," ar'Elya said, "you're stuck with that body until you untangle yourself in time." He clicked his boots together and the blades dissolved in a wash of fire, leaving him standing on the ground. "So you're a satyr until after the fight." "Or until I get rid of this stupid gift." Kadrys head turned towards them from where he'd been speaking quietly with Kardia. "Fight? Gift? What's going on?" "I can't safely tell you much about it. The gift - I can see the deepest desire in someone's heart, and grant it. If it's out of my usual reach, the gift _pushes_ and extends my reach. But it's tied into my more, well, animal side. That's why people are all being changed out there. But I don't want the gift." "I knew people back in Seattle," Kardia said, frowning, "who chose to be changed surgically, to resemble animals. But it was all explained by the `experts' as the desire of the city-dwellers for some connection to the animal side, to return to nature. They called it a `fetish inspired by an overreaction to the oppressive technological societal matrix'. This," she gestured to the party crowd, "is hardly an oppressive technological societal matrix." 'Raelf laughed. "No, but it isn't exactly Noble Savages," and ar'Elya shook him gently by the horns and said "I resemble that. And right now, so do you." "Your gift grants their heart's desire?" Kardia mused. "You mean that inside they want to be like this?" "No, no, desire is a lot more complex than that. They're gradually changing into what turns them on. It builds on itself. If we could change the tone of the party, then they'd at least get their reasoning back." The music shifted, becoming a subtle, more upbeat song. [Don't you know that I'm still standing better than I ever did Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid...] "Wow. Kardia, did you see that?" 'Raelf leaned back, tipping his head to look up into ar'Elya's eyes. "Did you see that?" "The lines are still there, running from you into the band." Kardia looked further. "They run into the crowd from them, and... hmm... they're reflecting your emotions." Kardia blinked away when Joy pulled a pinhweel out of the air and handed it to 'Raelf, then stretched up and kissed the big barbarian on the cheek. He smiled and murmured, "Thanks for the dance." She curtsied, smiling with in a calculatedly demure way, and danced over to Kardia and Kadrys. "Here." said the teenage girl to Kardia. "These are yours." Kardia was still blinking from the power flash, but she held out her hand in responce to the girl's outstretched fist. Four coins fell into her hand. Kardia said, "Oh." as she looked at them. "Thanks for returning them. I'm... I'm sorry I kicked you... and glad that it wasn't as bad as it felt from my end." For the first time since she'd approached the group, the teenage girl's eyes were grave. She nodded and then laughed. "Yeah. I'm glad I got better, too." "Oh." said Kardia and frowned. "Huh... uhm... I don't quite know how to say this, but... I was thinking after that, that you could probably use the money more than I could. And... if you'll take it as a gift, as... well... thanks for returning what you stole..." Kardia pulled out the one gold and five silver she'd carried with her for just the party, when she hadn't known that everything was going to be paid for by the city. She pooled all the coins and handed them back to the teenage girl. "Ohhhhh..." said the girl, her eyes wide at the gold. "Wow... I could live on this for..." Then she laughed a sound that had Kardia looking at her in astonishment. "Kardia, look at me." said the teenaged girl. "I know you can." So Kardia looked. "Oh, my..." was all she said. "Thanks for the gift." said the goddess and cartwheeled over to the band. Kardia just stared after her. [I'm still standing, YEah yeah yeah] A line of dancers kicked by, an impromptu dance halfway between a chorus line and a lambada. "Oh great, so I have to get sex off my mind in THIS body," 'Raelf said, then leaned back into ar'Elya's hands as they kneaded on his shoulders. "You have about ten years to stop doing that." He blew on the pinwheel, then tucked it between his left horn and his left ear. "Actually," Kadrys observed, "When you came to your senses, the, ahem, _insistent_ qualities of the music began to recede. Though they're not entirely absent, even now." "Oh yeah. Sorry about that," 'Raelf said, trying to release the threads that had found their way into Kadrys. They faded but returned the moment he stopped concentrating. "This is not good," he observed. "Kardia, please, your shawl?" He concentrated, making the threads to Kadrys fade again, then touched the shawl. There was a hot surge, and the connection broke. "Ow, that hurts." Kadrys nodded. "Most unpleasant." "I don't think it's a very good way to break the contacts," ar'Elya drawled. "You'll hurt yourself, or burn out her talent, with all the Power woven through this crowd." He looked around them, eyes a silvery whirl. "In fact," and his copper-red hair turned silver, though the massive warrior frame did not diminish, "The threads are coming back anyway." Kadrys felt the warmth growing in his chest, the music was starting to reach into him again. "Don't worry, I can handle this. It's rather invigorating, actually." He looked out over the crowd. The compulsive frenzy of the coupling had mostly faded, except for a few groups, but it had been replaced by a desire in some of the dancers for a more private setting for their play. "You'd best do something, 'Raelf, they're starting to leave." "Oh merde. Karl!" 'Raelf said, and the red-haired satyr who was the leader of the band looked across, not breaking his rhythm. "Segue into Lionel Ritchie, `All night long' - we gotta keep the people here." Karl nodded, and counted - 2, 3, 5, and the music changed. The little goddess Joy handed him a pinwheel and he traded it for the pipes, and she began improvising around the tune. "Lionel Ritchey?" Kardia frowned. "That's awfully shallow." "True, but not as bad as playing `Venus' would have been." 'Raelf jumped down off the stage and disappeared into the crowd. While he was gone, the silver-haired barbarian reached for the handle protruding from the sheath behind his back, and drew, not the black rune-crusted sword that Kardia and Kadrys had seen there before, but an equally black rune-carved staff, with a little colored pinwheel on one end. "How'd that get on there," he muttered, as 'Raelf returned with a couple from the crowd. The man was lithe, a lean well muscled dancer's body, but covered with tiny rainbow iridescent scales that glittered in the light of the wizard torches. He wore only a thong providing not much in the way of modesty, and the plush but muscled woman with him (completely human and utterly mammalian) wore a fur bikini that had no analogue in local costume. "Parsifal Lucas, right?" The man smiled, gold slitted eyes glittering below short sparkling brows. The gold eyes of the satyr met and held his gaze. "You were the first, the linchpin. Listen to me." "Happy to. This is one great party. What else can I do ya for, boss man?" 'Raelf winced. "I tampered with you. Without your permission. Will you let me fix it?" "Sure thing, boss." Pars looked sideways at the big white-haired barbarian standing behind 'Raelf, and licked his lips nervously. "Look closely," the barbarian-wizard said, and the runes on the staff began flickering with an impossible color. Parsifal stood entranced, while the satyr kissed him on his forehead. <> The staff flickered blue and the rainbow man blinked. The music had changed, a ballad of some kind. He realized he'd gone to sleep for a second, things had changed around him. [ .. no I won't shed a tear, just as long, as you stand, stand by me...] There were more people lined up, standing with an entranced look: several of them Pars remembered, he'd partnered with that evening. The party was quieter, the frenzied orgy in the dark corners of the street had gone. Most of the more insistent participants were standing entranced; others were kneeling and swaying or singing along with the band. He looked at the band and returned the happy smile of the young girl who was miming an instrument along with Anna. Anna, he mused, looked even better as a satyr than she did before. He wondered how they stayed up like that, without a bustier. He'd only seen her from a distance, but he was sure she wasn't built that well before. Another hunger hit him as he smelled the waft of roasting sausage - the street vendor was back. He passed by the couple that he'd seen earlier, talking with the big gold satyr. They were slow-dancing, elegant and graceful and almost alone, now that the band was doing a rest-set. He made his way to the vendor cart. [ ROOOOCK! LOBSTER ] 'Raelf jumped. "Karl?" The red-furred satyr grinned at him, rapped out a complicated pattern, and Anna started playing Air guitar again to accompany, while the twins each picked up a partner from the audience and started them dancing. [We gotta PAR-DEE on the BEACH] Karl sang, hands hitting the bongo set. Kadria broke into giggles and Kadrys winced at the sudden raucous change in mood. 'Raelf sighed, and, holding a fox-woman by the shoulders, kissed her on the muzzle. She blinked, and shook her head, coming out of the trance. "Thank you," she said, touching the fur on her arms with quiet wonder. "OK, Ray," 'Raelf said, "we need your wild side." "That's hardly the" flick "way to look at it," the voice changed from a basso growl to a glittering alto in mid-sentence, as the giant barbarian changed in an eyeblink to a voluptuous blond woman with a jet streak in her waist-length hair. A blue dragonet the size of a kitten popped up from around her neck, carrying a pinwheel in its jaws. It launched itself into the air, and was followed by an explosion of others, each settling around the neck of one of the people who remained in the trance. A complex gesture from the sorceress, and a pulse of power flared the wizard-lit torches that lined the plaza. *Beta team to Urcohea. Class two hazard located, it seems to be locking down without intervention. - What's the deets? *Satyr band, but some high-power transformations being thrown around by the band leader. That wild-magic babe with the technicolor dragons seems to be helping them clean up. Band leader looks kind of like that guy you had hired for consult work, 'Raelf whatever-it-was, but he's human and this clown's a satyr to all readings. Besides, power levels are higher than a Journeyman could rig. - That wild-magic babe is a fully rated visiting archmage, so watch your language to her face. All right. You're recalled, Beta, return to station and get some rest, you're too tired, you're about to start making some bad judgements. *Yes sir. Uh oh. Incoming - the Wyvern is gating in. -(bloody grife) Yes, I see her. I'll vector in, you get back on station. Gwaliostrok, come on, we've got a political situation forming. The air split open beside the dias, and a tall redhaired woman stepped through the gap. She scowled at the band, frowned at the girl playing with them, and faced the golden haired woman standing with the golden-furred satyr. "It is you. I wasn't sure at first." "Acting Supreme Archmage Dasham," ar'Elya said, deadpan, "How good of you to make an appearance at our party." She ignored the sorceress, and gave an up-and-down glance at 'Raelf, one eyebrow raised. "This is a new look for you, isn't it? I like it, but isn't it a bit flagrant?" "Nothing special, just an old body I had lying around, I hardly ever have an occasion to take it out. Should you be out and around? Isn't there something Supreme-ish you're supposed to be doing?" "Oh please. 'Raelf, you've been holding out on me." "Not at all, Dash." "Don't LIE to me," she snarled. "I know several of these people. I knew Hector when he was a boy." She pointed to a white haired man who looked no more than twenty, dancing between two women with absolutely perfect bodies. "He was a boy eighty years ago. Does that look like a ninety year old to you?" "Well preserved, eh?" 'Raelf said, shrugging. "He was born deaf. He's hearing just fine. He's _singing_." "Ah. Why wasn't he ever cured before? There's priests all over the place, this is a magic realm." "His father was cursed by Issek. All his children were born with some sort of truly incurable deformity." "Bummer. Unfair," 'Raelf smiled and pulled the pinwheel from behind his left horn and blew on it. Three of the dragonets collected around him, chirruping; they copied his movements, three tiny jets of flame wrapping around their pinwheels, shooting out the sides as they spun like little fireworks. Dasham frowned, and shooed at the one which snuffled at her. "'Raelf, you were contracted to find me a rejuvenation and life extension technique that would fit my requirements. So far, you've offered me nothing I can use, and vague ominous warnings that my predecessor in Research might still be alive somewhere. It's obvious you have a method that can overcome the strongest curses, so I want you to fill your part of the bargain, NOW. Give me what I want." "Oh no." 'Raelf hunkered down on his haunches. "You didn't just ask me to grant your hearts' desire, right?" "I believe you could call it that." "Are you sure you know what it is? You really want it?" "Positive. Right now." "Oh hell. Raye, please stand by, this will be nasty." He went over to the band, whispered something to Karl and to the young goddess of Joy, and picked up his panpipes. He stalked back, light playing across his golden fur as he faced the Archmage. The band stopped playing. "You asked for this. Last chance. I warn you. The Gift means I have to grant your heart's deepest most true desire, and it makes sure I can do it. Do you really want this?" "Get on with it." He nodded, and raised the pipes to his lips. A shrill and painful sound rang out, reaching, calling. Dasham staggered towards him, her wards shredded in an instant by a force utterly outside her experience. He grasped her head, pulled her towards him, drew his tongue lasciviously around her face, across her forehead. She flinched away, and fell into the waiting arms of the sorceress, who caught her before she could fall. "I've got you," ar'Elya said, and with a gasp Dasham felt her wards being re-formed around her. She heard the pipes and felt a hard dark painful somethng embedded in the heart of her focus, the core from which she drew her magical power, it caught, then she felt it being dragged on. Each pull brought images to her and she began to sweat, but the sorceress would not allow her to escape. "Stay with it, Dasham. Self-knowledge is necessary in a supreme archmage." The pipes continued, and words came clear in the music. <> A scream came from the ether. "Noooooo" and a body fell smoking to the ground, a man appearing to be in his late twenties, fit but scarred by extensive tortures, and giving off a stench of burning after being dragged across the planes. Ichor and ectoplasm ran off him, pooling on the raised stone of the stage. Flames danced around the edges of the liquid. Dasham shuddered, shaking her head to try to clear away the memories as they came to the surface. Hours spent bent across the racks as her Master tried out new spells of exaction and coercion, spells that would leave no traces in body, that once cast and endured would be forgotten only to be recalled by a recasting of the spells. Days spent frozen immobile while Verthax gave her body to be used by the foul things he called up from Inferno, in exchange for secrets of magic which were long forbidden. Weeks, years spent with her soul as a toy for the mad selfish careless children of a chaos being, keeping them occupied while Verthax (damn him thrice and may he be ever impotent) rifled through their toyboxes for new secrets. The images blurred, only one or two in a long train hideous enough to stand out. The last one: her body, crabbed with age and arthritis, old, wizened, while Verthax walked young and beautiful in stolen flesh, HER flesh, leaving no part of her unviolated. Then the compulsions, laid again and masked and overlaid again with the pristine imprint of the lost innocence of her younger soul. And Verthax, dead in a horrible accident in his lab. <> A moaning noise, a final scream from the burning man and he spasmed and lay still, not breathing. A hole opened in nothing, and the man who crawled out was incredibly ancient, decayed and frail. He hobbled forward spitting out curses, which fell to the ground and scuttled around - the dragonets pounced, ripping each into small gory pieces that they devoured, then they looked around eagerly for more. The piping continued, and the old body began dancing a frantic jig, as the old wizard gasped for breath. The music did not relent, and Dasham watched with a kind of unholy ecstasy, as the jig turned into a tarantella followed by a series of grand jete's and deep plie's. Old dry bones cracked, dust flew from the ancient skin. "More, make him do more," she demanded. "This isn't enough." "What do you want, Archmage?" ar'Elya asked, still holding Dasham from falling. The archmage looked the sorceress in the eye and did not flinch from what she saw there. "I want him to feel the suffering he inflicted on me and on his other apprentices." She spat. "He has to KNOW." "He does. He's an empath, can't you see it in his aura?" "The unspeakable vileness. He enjoyed it, then, what he did to us, the pain we endured at his hands." "It seems likely." The sorceress sighed. "Don't play with him, Rafe, he's been eaten long ago. The demons must have got him well before he made Archmage. Let him die." <> Dasham felt a sort of hollow victory that fell apart in loss before she could savor it. "Do it," she said dully. The piping went fast, then stopped on a single note. The old wizard shrieked, and collapsed, crumbling into dust where he fell. Dasham felt something dark and hungry moving back along the line that was tied to her, but then something happened, the satyr got in its way. She heard something distantly like wings, and shuddered. "Dasham? You ok?" She tried to answer and couldn't speak, could barely move her hand to signal him closer. "segurty" she gasped. Darkness started creeping in around the edges of her vision. <> he replied, and she felt air washing through her, pushing back the dark and restoring feeling to her limbs. She gasped, pulling in the air hungrily. Another door opened in the air. The figure that came through was male, his head covered by a helmet, dark eyes flashing when he found Dasham lying back against ar'Elya, who supported her, unconcerned, dragonets swirling around them protectively. He gathered the scene in one glance: the band, the goddess, 'Raelf in an outrageous satyr's guise, the corpse of a man he had seen in the records, and the dusty relict of the old wizard. Urcohea signaled through the door, and Gwaliostrok came through behind him. Urcohea then turned to 'Raelf with menace in his eye. "What have you done to her?" "Granted her wish. She gave me no choice." Urcohea pondered for just long enough to blink. "Fine. Get her into the guild hall. We mustn't let Thorn hear about this until she's recovered." The sorceress smiled conspiratorially, and helped Urcohea to carry Dasham through the doorway. Gwaliostrok followed, the two corpses floating in front of him on glowing disks of light. The door in the air closed behind them. "Now what," 'Raelf muttered, looking around. The entranced people were no longer looking quite like something out of a beer commercial, and the few who had been given animal features were no longer what they seemed - a complex layering of illusion supplied the changes they'd chosen, and the illusion would fade with the light of morning. The band started playing a gentle folksong he recalled hearing from his travels on Earth, Joy playing the pipe as Anna's clear voice called down the melody. [Tis the gift to be simple, tis the gift to be free tis the gift to go down where you want to be And when you find yourself in the place just right you will be in the garden of love and delight. When true simplicity is gained, to bow and to bend we will not be ashamed. To turn and to turn, it will be our delight, till by turning, turning, we come round right.] There was a short appreciative silence, then Karl grinned manically, and shouted - [Watch Out Here I Come] [You spin me right round baby right round Like a record honey round round right round...] 'Raelf laughed and did two backflips towards the band, picking up the abandoned pipes, and joined in. This was a party, right? MagicHutchHeader From: s924739@yallara.cs.rmit.OZ.AU (Barry M Prismall) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] Nobility at a cost. Keywords: Tarkyn BBD Message-ID: <19470@goanna.cs.rmit.oz.au> Date: 25 May 93 04:57:25 GMT [ADMIN Tarkyn the Ranger has now joined the BBD group. Ertham, Tarkyn's teacher of the Source is also introduced here.] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Taking his leave from the table, the black cloaked ranger left the inn. "Time for a little preparation", Tarkyn thought, as he headed to a familiar place in town. The soft leather of his boots made very little sound on the cobblestone pathways beneath them. Looking down he noticed the scuff marks and nicks caused by his journeying through the forests near his home. Tarkyn remembered the day he was given a pair, not unlike those he wore today. A smile escaped his lips as the voice of his one time mentor and teacher seemed to float through his mind. Concentrating on the deep resonating voice, Tarkyn slowly started to recognise syllables, then words from his past. "This gift I give, will serve you better than any fashioned weapon", the old man's said as he eyed the numerous blades that adorned his apprentices body. By his side sat a bag fashioned of a strong fibrous fabric, with a piece of cord holding it close. With a slow and deliberate movement, Ertham placed his prize into the hands of his student. The young apprentices eyes lit up as he took the bag, removing the bindings he peered inside. A look of confusion crossed his face, this was not an item of power. He looked back at his masters face, "Is this some kind of test" he thought. Removing the plain pair of boots, Tarkyn examined them, not a trace of magic. "You do not see, do you young one?", not waiting for a reply he added, "What is more deadly then the opponent that you do not see, how can you defeat something you do not know exists. I gave you these boots, for it is time for you to master the arts of the body, not the Source. You must learn to run like the wind and be more silent than the wolf. It is time to enter the next stage of your training." Tarkyn entered a side street, where strangely the sun did not shine so strongly. Pushing open a large wooden door he entered the abode of a friend. The ranger's eyes darted around to take in his surrounds. Before him was a crudely constructed counter which had been fitted to the owners home as if it was an afterthought. Tarkyn shivered, as his body tried to cope with the reduced temperature of this streets unnatural weather patterns. Pulling his cloak tighter around himself he placed his hand on top of a rune covered tablet of stone, sitting nearly embedded into the woodwork of the bench. Just as the ranger's hand made contact a blue flame flickered across his palm and a low chime could be heard. Just as the tone ended, a light scuffing of shoes caught Tarkyn's attention, coming from behind him. "Ah seeker and follower of the Source, you must be getting rusty. An old man can come up behind you", a wheezing voice spoke. Garbed in a smock of white, stained and battered, a map of his travels. In his right hand, gnarled fingers clutched a staff covered in runes, that escaped comprehension. "Young Tarkyn, it has been a while since you were last in Generica, what brings you to me this time." With a stride that surpassed his apparent age, the healer made his way behind the counter. Bowing his head slightly, the visitor replied, "I am about to join a quest". In a soft voice he added, "And I fear for the lives of my companions. I require the magic suppressant drug." Running his hand across the pommel of one of his swords he continues, "I am uncertain what form the power of Raoh will take in me." Lines of worry passed across the druids face as he considered the situation. "I have heard of your latest travels and know of your swords. It is a noble thing to protect others, but do you know the risk you take by using this drug?" "Yes wise one, I know of the risk. Death, but I think it is worth it to protect others until I am sure. I know the power has changed me, but I do not know how." "I will do this for you, young Tarkyn, but you must promise me something. Tell any who travel with you about the risk you have taken. If you can do this for me, I will provide you with the drug", his tired eyes gazing into that of the visitor. With a simple nod of his head, the exchange was made. A vial of clear liquid had passed hands and the ranger maked his way out the door. Tarkyn headed back to the inn to await the morning and the start of a new adventure. Barry Prismall. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: mreinker@nyx.cs.du.edu (matthew Reinker) Subject: Re: [blade] Meshtak on the warpath Message-ID: <1993May25.113930.27078@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> References: <1993May21.003240.1823@cheshire.oxy.edu> Date: Tue, 25 May 93 11:39:30 GMT In article <1993May21.003240.1823@cheshire.oxy.edu> dementia@cheshire.oxy.edu (Daniel Steven Reinker) writes: >It was morning, the storm was over, and the refugees were straggling >out of the temple and stumbling their ways home. Meshtak, too, realized >it was time to get to work. He exited the temple.. >Meshtak donned his cloak and made his way cautiously into low-town. > >Meshtak the Draga Gortok was dozing near the temple door. A beam of sunlight played across his face. The dwarf looked up just as Meshtak exited the temple. Gortok jumped to his feet. "Tyrone, Meshtak was in the temple. Come on!" Gortok hurried out of the temple and was momentarily blinded by the light. His eye's cleared and he spotted Meshtak just as he turned a corner. Try as he might, Gortok could not catch up to the Draga. He entered the disaster that was low-town. Ahead he saw Meshtak talking to a young looter. The boy apperantly gave the draga some information, because the plainsman let the gibbering bandit go. Meshtak turned to go when Gortok hailed him. "Meshtak! Wait! Where do we go from here?" The Undwarf hurried to catch up. Gortok the Undwarf -- "Pathetic victims of arrested development! * mreinker@nyx.cs.du.edu Prepare to hear the VOICE of REASON!!!!" * (Matt Reinker) ~~~~The Chainsaw Vigilante~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I have no idea where these opinions came from. It's not my fault!!! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Games] Message-ID: <1ttd9aINNr0v@news.gac.edu> From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Date: 25 May 1993 15:16:58 GMT >Two figures sit around a table. One figure dressed in white, the >other figure dressed in black. The white figure has a strained look >on his face. The black figure is laughing wildly. One the table >before them are figures of dead goblins, unconscious humans, a half >conscious human, a enraged minotaur, and a shadowy figure hovering >over the table. "You have gone to far!" says the White Elder. "Our Game does not include players such as this demi-god or the horned-one." The Black Elder smiles benignly. "Nonsense. The stakes are simply much higher now. Come, I have brought in a minor Power. What will you do to counter it?" "By my Oath, I cannot! You know we must acknowledge the spheres of others," says White. Black waves a finger under White's nose. His tone becomes one of ciding and cajoling. "Look about you, brother. On Nexus, two beings of considerable power are contesting. Another, a former inhabitant, is making a bid for power there. On the minotaur's homeworld, the gods have entered into direct conflict. And here, old alliances and new are over-throwing decades of stasis. Chaos abounds! It is a time for the casting away of Rules..." His voice fading to silence, Black settles back in his seat. He waves his hands across the gameboard. "Come, brother. It is time to make our OWN rules. Let the Game take on dimesions we have never witnessed." White is silent for some time. It could be eternity or only a hear-beat. Slowly, he smiles. "Yes, let us Game. We shall finally play without fear of interference." Leaning forward, White examines the board. "It will prove most interesting." A matching smile shows on Black's face. "Indeed it will. I have been saying for centuries that we needed a change." Chuckles echo through the clearing, and the two Powers lean forward over their board. -Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur ******************************************************************************* Peace through strength! Victory through annihilation! Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ******************************************************************************* MagicHutchHeader From: albert@chain.ssctr.bcm.tmc.edu (Rick Jones) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BDAY] Krupp/Luthor [beach] After the Dance Date: 25 May 1993 17:26:47 GMT Message-ID: <1ttksn$jip@gazette.bcm.tmc.edu> > While his sanity held, Luthor walked quickly through the crowds,to the ocean. > Once there, he sat in the sand and placed his face in his hands. Overhead, > the fireworks began, but he didn't notice. The translucent halfling looked at the golden elf. Krupp had recognized Luthor from the housewarming party, and gone over to warn him about the demon posing as a beautful elf-maid. Luthor had defeated his demon, but had fled. Krupp felt the waves of pain and despair emmanating from Luthor. He felt guilty about the energy it provided him. Krupp coughed, "Ahem. Luthor, wasn't it? You look like you've just seen a ghost. Other than me, that is." Luthor looked up at Krupp. His expression was one of confusion, sorrow, and lonliness. His face was still wet from several minutes of crying. "Ghost? I wish it had been a ghost. No, it was merely cruel joke." He looked to the ocean, it was so oblivious to his loss. He threw a smooth stone at and oncoming wave. It skipped the crest and made an audible *plunk*. "Oh, I am so sorry. It seems that my grief has robbed me of my manners. I am Luthor Anside, the ShadowMaker." He stood and bowed to the Halfling. "Krupp Faraway." He jammed his hands in the pockets of his trenchcoat. "We met briefly at your housewarming party. I'd shake hands, but... well, you know. Anyway, there's a party going on back downtown. You're missing the fireworks. And 'Raelf and ar'Eyla and Kadrys and Kardia are back there. You know Kardia, don't you? Anyway, why don't you come back? You look like you could use a drink." Luthor looked bad at the ocean. "Perhaps some other time. I need to be alone for a while." Krupp shook his head. "No way. What you _need_ is to be with people right now. Whoever the lady was-" "My late wife, Rachel." Krupp felt the sob that Luthor suppressed at her name. "I'm sorry about Rachel, Luthor. But remember something, you're alive now. That means that you're supposed to be laughing and dancing and eating and drinking and making merry, while you still can. If I were alive, do you know what I'd be doing right now?" "Eating and dancing with a halfling maid?" ventured Luthor. "Heck no. I'd be in a dirty corner of Low City following some two bit mug to find out where he's hiding the stolen Moonpenguin, or something." Krupp paused. "What I should be doing is eating a sandwich the size of a roc's egg, and washing it down with a gallon of beer. Remember, you're alive now, so cherish the opportunities you have. Sieze the day, you pointy eared mope." Krupp smirked. "And think what you have to look forward to. You've got a long and probably happy life ahead of you with Serene and Mista. And then, when you die, you get to be with your wife again. Lots of folks would say you got a good deal." Luthor nodded. "You did not strike me as a philosopher." "Hey, I've got depth I haven't even used yet. Now come on, before I scrounge up a chain and start haunting you." Krupp's hand shimmered, and a rattling chain materialized in it. "Wow. I must be drunker than I thought. I tried to do that before, but it didn't work." Krupp dropped the chain, and it vanished. He turned back towards the party. "You coming?" "I suppose I had better," said Luthor. "Damn straight. Oh wait. I got something for you." Krupp reached into the pocket of his trenchcoat and drew from it an irridescent pinwheel. "You look like you need this more than I." Luthor examined the pinwheel. "Thank you, Krupp." There was a hint of a smile on his lips. For now, that was enough. The pair walked back towards the party. -- Rick Jones albert@bcm.tmc.edu "I collect comic books, but I'm not one of Systems Support Center those geeks who collects comic books." Voice: 713-798-7352 -Life in Hell MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [BDAY] [MG] I get ta be the good guy! No, I do! Message-ID: References: <1ttksn$jip@gazette.bcm.tmc.edu> Date: Tue, 25 May 1993 21:42:08 GMT [ADMIN] Large parts due to Dreamer. 0-0-0 Two children were sitting on a wall looking out over the bay. It was a warm evening and the wind off the bay was comfortable rather than chilling. "I is still hungry. You wants I can bring ya some eats, maybe some water?" Kev stood as Little Rat shrugged noncommitally, and ran down the wall to where the knotted-sheet ladder waited. He came back a few minutes later, and dropped a waterskin and a couple pieces of fruit by her side, then slumped bonelessly down to watch the sunset. After a while the fireworks started exploding. Little Rat fiddled with a fraying end of a rag pretending to be her clothing. She had decided to tell Kev about the Gutt Man to show him how tough you have to be to live in the Low City by yourself. "Now hear dis Kev. I's only gonna tell it once, so you better listen good." She started without turning her eyes from the fiery flowers in the sky. "I is listenin'." "Well, ya see, dere is dis guy what we kids call da Gutt Man. We call him dat 'cause he takes dumb kids like you an' takes dere gutts out. Den he puts dem all over da place and dances and laughs like a mumbly old beggar. 'Cept he got dis knife see. He got dis knife dat could cut stones is half. If you don't get smart like me, he is gonna catch you and put your insides on da outside." While saying this, she tried to fight down her rising fear. It wouldn't be good to have a fit in front of the kid. "I ain't afraid." Kev said this in something resembling a growl. Little Rat figured that his throat was sore, so she continued. "Well, dat's too bad 'cause when you is scared, ya run. Dat's what I did, no shame neither. If he catches ya, he don't kill ya fast with no sticker, he takes da knife and he cuts ya real slow 'cause he's real sick in da nog. Kev, dis don't mean dat I like you or nuffin', but I seen what he does ta us kids an' I don't wanna see it happen no more. 'Sides, dat guy 'Raelf would throw me back to da street if I let dat happen." Little Rat shuddered as pictures of the Gutt Man's horrors flashed in her mind. "Ain't no one try ta stop him?" "Nope, he got da Dark Man on his side dat make him real strong an' fast." She shivered remembering the hand grabbing her anlke. "Well, I say we get him," Kev said seriously. "WHAT? Are ya outta your nog? You is a looney one Kev. Maybe we otta lock you up with stupid ideas like dat." Little Rat tore her eyes away from the pyrotechnic display to look at Kev. Her eyes widened in shock as she saw his face. It was set in a look of fierce determination making the boy seem much older than his six years. "Kev, I think I otta get 'Elya. I think dat you is gettin' da sickness or sumthin'. You is scaring me with dat look." Kev shook his head, startled. "Nah, you's right, he would gutt a kid what doesn't know how ta fight or nuffin, but somebody gots ta get him. Din't you fight wif' him though? You still gots all yer gutts on da inside, right? You's skinny enuf, looks kinda like he mighta got ya." Little Rat narrowed her eyes at him. He was giggling, and so she had to punch him on the shoulder, but he fell over laughing and she decided that he was just bein' silly. She shook her head, sure that he'd be dead before the cold time came again, if he went back onta the street. Fireworks continued exploding, loud and bright and just a bit TOO pretty. 000----000 Little Rat was bored. Kev had been sulking in his room all morning. He was fun last night, making up all sorts of dumb stories. She wandered out into the big room that looked out on the ocean. The sun was shining in, and it made her feel sleepy, and she didn't want to go back to sleep. Something bright was moving around on the surface of the waves, some kind of a funny looking boat, the guy was standing on it and flipping a sail back and forth, hopping up and down on the waves. Stupid. A big lizard-fish was sure to see him and fly down and eat him. She still wasn't sure about that huge open area, it didn't look real. There was a sound from outside, so she ran across the room and out to the garden. The lady wizard was there, in the garden, digging a hole. She saw Little Rat and waved, so Little Rat went over to where she was digging. "Good morning, did you have fun down at the celebration?" "Uhm, yesm. Howdja know we was there?" Little Rat began twisting her rags again. She was embarassed, not because she had done something wrong, but because she got caught. "Oh, magic," the lady wizard said teasingly. "Really, I was down at the market and I saw you there." "You's not mad at us?" "Just remember to be careful, watch out for bad people. Kev saw that Ramesh slaver before you did. You werent' paying attention." "Oh. But I dunno what a Ramish slaver is." "They steal children, and women and sometimes men, and they take them far away to the land they come from and they make them work until they die, and if they won't work, they hit them with whips or have their bad magicians cast spells on them so they have to work." "Work's not bad." She said this with conviction. "Yes, but they don't trade for it, they just take it." "Dat is bad. OK, what's dey look like, so's I can tell?" "I'll show you in a little bit. First you need to pay us for staying here, so help me dig this hole out and we'll plant this new tree here." "It's a pretty tree. Howcome it gots red leafs?" Little Rat picked up a shovel, changed her grip like the lady wizard showed her, and began digging. "Just the way it is. Most plants have more green so that you can't see the red underneath. The green is how the plant gets its food, it makes the dirt and the sunlight into more plant, and when the sunlight goes away in the winter the green goes away and the red or yellow shows." "So when da cold time comes an' da leafs gets all yellow it's cause of no green?" "Exactly. You're very bright, Little Rat." "Hafta be. Stupid peoples don't last. Charlie gets 'em, or da worms or da bad water an' dey dies an' da crocs eats' em." "Well, you've made the hole big enough. See the sack that the tree is in? The hole has to be twice as big around as the sack, and about twice as deep. All the roots are in the sack. Did you ever grow plants before?" "Nuh hun. What's roots for?" Little Rat was sure she knew, but she wanted to know what the wizard lady would say. "Suppose you tell me?" "But I's just a kid, I dunno dat kinda stuff," Little Rat protested, then she saw that 'Elya was kinda laughing, but not laughing too. She looked like she might be gonna cry. Little Rat looked into her grey eyes, and blinked. There was a woman, short and kind of skinny, sad-eyes, slack-faced, starin' with the look of one of the 'stix girls from the cuddle cribs that was too close ta the Shun. The other eye, there was da same woman, but dis time she looked like one a' dem town guards, tough an' had shiny armor on an' everything. "Oh dear. I think it might be about to rain," the wizard lady said, looking away as she patted the dirt in around the plant. Little Rat was kind of scared for a moment, seeing things in peoples' eyes like that, maybe she was off her nog, but then she remembered this was a wizard lady, an' so it was probly just some wizard thing. "Little Rat, would you please carry the bucket with the garden supplies over to the garden shed and put them inside," 'Elya asked her, as she poured water around the newly planted tree. Little Rat complied, then it did start raining a little, so she went into the doorway to wait for it to stop. It started raining even harder. 'Elya walked up, dripping wet, and chuckling to herself. "Howcome you gots wet?" Little Rat asked. "Can't wizards keep da rain off dem?" "Sometimes, but it isn't always good to mess with the way things are supposed to be. Besides, now my hands are all clean." Little Rat looked at herself, and ran out into the rain for a minute to get the mud off her rags. When she came back, the wizard lady had a big fluffy hot dry cloth, and she dried her off, which surprised Little Rat a lot. "You should be careful, little one. You might get too cold if you let yourself get soaked, and then you could catch the coughing sickness." "But I was gonna go inta my room an' stay until my stuff got all dry," Little Rat replied. She knew about not getting too cold, Trawm had let her huddle in his kitchen sometimes, or she'd got in one of the old grain boxes by the stables. "Well, now that you've helped me with my plants, I think I should pay you back. What would you like for breakfast? You can have anything you want." "Sammidges," Little Rat said emphatically. "Like dem ones from da party. Dey was real good." 'Elya laughed. "You got it, kid." She led her charge into the dining room: a loaf of fresh bread was set on a table, and some sliced meats and some big crispy leaves and a little bowl with some white and yellow and brown stuff in it. "Now, Rat, this is how you make a sammidge. Do you want me to call you Little Rat? It seems like an unusual name for a girl as pretty as you." "Ahh, I ain't pretty," Little Rat replied, blushing, "Lissa's pretty, I's just ordinary. Are you gonna take my name away? Mister Lancos said ya might wanna do dat." "Your name is yours to keep or change, Little Rat. But I'm pretty sure your mother didn't call you her Little Rat. I bet she had a different name for you. Do you want me to find out what it was?" 'Elya continued showing Little Rat how to cut up the bread and meat and spread the seasonings onto her sammidge. Little Rat was careful to check for white worms, but she was pretty sure by now that these wizards were like the rich folks that Kev told her about, they wouldn't have white worms. "I ain't got no remembers a my mother. She got da sickness when I were real young and died." She paused. "I wudda died, but Iramus found me first. He were like a mother ta me, 'cept he were a boy. He always called me Little Rat, so dat's my name..." She paused again and then tilted her head and looked up at ar'Elya with a half smile on her face. "Can you really learn dat? About my name I mean?" "Yep." "Well, dat sure would be neat. I ain't never thunk 'bout my name much. I guess Little Rat is a dumb name for a little kid. I dunno. It would be a big thing, 'Elya, I gots ta think 'bout it, dere's not a lotta stuff I could do for ya dat was good enuf ta pay ya for it." Little Rat carefully duplicated the sammidge, until there were four of them that she set on the plate together. 'Elya poured a glass of apple juice for each of them, and they sat down at the table. "All right. If you figure out a good trade, tell me and I'll help you find out the name." 'Elya took a bite of one of the sammidges, tasting it carefully and swallowing. "Not bad, not bad at all. You make a pretty good sammidge, kid. Tell you what, when you finish your breakfast, how about I show you some games?" "I's too old for games." "Oh, but I'm not, and I need a playmate, will you help me? It's boring to have to play all alone." She grinned and Little Rat stared at her for a moment then started giggling. She finished her sammidge and helped clear away the dishes, then followed 'Elya to one of the rooms that she had been warned not to enter. The door opened on a big room with racks and racks of clothes and things, with a painted folding screen and a long tall mirror at the far end. "Wow, you's rich, so many clothes an' stuff..." Little Rat muttered, awed at the expanse. "Oh, no, dear one. These are just magical lets-pretends. See, if we take them outside," and the wizard lady took one of the sillier hats out into the hall, where it dissolved into smoke. "Why di't go all smokey?" "It wasn't real, the magic in the game room made it. It's like when you dream - it seems real until you wake up." "Oh. Dat's neet." Little Rat went cautiously into the room. When nothing strange happened, she followed 'Elya to the mirrors. "Okay, so this is going to be a really easy game. We're going to play dress-up. First I'll put something on, and I come out and you try to guess who I am. Then you dress up and I try to guess who you are." Little Rat nodded gravely and 'Elya laughed. She went into the racks and came away with a handful of dresses. Then, after going behind the screen, clothes began to fly into the air. When she came out, she was wearing a shiny silver helmet and bright red hair in a long braid down her back, and she had a heavy shiny shirt made out of little rings of metal. "I know. You is a guard." A little white cat with black ears came out from behind one of the clothes racks and sniffed curiously at Little Rat's foot, then rubbed against her leg. "Right. Your turn." 'Elya picked up the cat and shooed it towards the door. Little Rat thought for a second, then gathered some stuffs and went behind the screen. She came out a moment later, wearing a white wig and black leather jacket covered with rubber spiders, and holding a wavy-bladed wooden knife. "Well. It looks to me like you're a Drow priest. The one from the story you were telling about when you helped Alfvaen to rescue Ellestrae." "Yup." Little Rat made realistic faces into the mirror. 'Elya gathered some more clothing, and went behind the screen. When she came out, she was wearing a really ugly old fashioned dress that hid all her body, and she had a big white scarf that she wore over her head like the old lady farmers, and a cloth hood that covered all but her face. She looked older than usual. "Dis is hard," Little Rat said, then inspiration hit. "I gots it. You is a priest of Issek, like da ol' droopy-drawers what comes around an' gives away da fish soup in da cold time." "Pretty good, child," 'Elya said in an old-lady voice, "But I'm not a priest of Issek. I'm a servant of the unnamed gods." "What's da dif?" Little Rat said, digging in a box for a feather boa and some shiny cloth. "Oh, the gods who can be named are powerful, but they all draw their people into their stories. The ones who have no stories and who aren't named, they're the ones who help people without making them into something they shouldn't be." "Huh?" Little Rat stepped out from behind the screen, and the dour expression on 'Elya's face broke up in a wrinkled smile. Little Rat was wearing a poison-green sparkling cloth wrapped around her body, with a long feather boa and in her hand, a bubble pipe. She vamped in her best nine-year-old style. 'Elya hid her laughter behind her wide cloth sleeves and said in a choked voice, "Lady Ale. From the place where you went with Kev yesterday." "OK, it's yer turn now." Little Rat continued gesturing and posing with the bubble pipe, trying to look mysterious and alluring. 'Elya came out from behind the screen, wearing a long red silk dress covered in embroidered dragons. She had a long blond wig too. Little Rat blew a bubble out of the pipe, and pronounced judgement. "You is a princess. But you does magical stuffs too." "You're very perceptive today," 'Elya smiled. "That's exactly right. Most people don't notice the princess part when I dress up like this. I have a Lady Ale costume, too." "She's neet," Little Rat replied. "She gots lots of folks what works for her and dat kinda stuffs." "She thinks that's a secret, too." 'Elya smiled, as Little Rat carefully put the pipe and the boa back in the box where she'd found them. "What's your next one?" "You gots ta guess." Little Rat came out from the screen wearing very brightly colored shorts, and a "Megadeth" tee shirt, and sunglasses, and she had a stick that she used to mime someone practicing a staff form. She was making a ferocious growling noise, and 'Elya smiled. "That looks like 'Raelf when he's practicing." "Nope. It's Kev." She hit an imaginary bully with the stick. "What?!" 'Elya aid, shock mirrored in her eyes. "Yeah, dat was all he wanted ta do dis mornin'." "Did he try to make you do it too?" "Yeah, he sez it was fightin' but I think he's a looney." She executed a pretty good parry-riposte and 'Elya smiled wryly. "Little Rat, there's something very important you should do for me. If you ever see Kev acting that way, you just whisper my name and I'll come help." "I tho't he was sick in da nog." Little Rat pursed her lips in a very serious, worried expression. "He might be, so you have to be careful." "Okay." Little Rat yawned and stretched. "I wanna go in my room now. Is we done playin' yet?" "For now. Thank you for playing with me. If you want you can keep one of the costumes. I'll make it last outside of the room." "Ok. Can I have da stuffs wit' da pipe?" "Sure." When Little Rat woke up from her nap it was because she was thirsty and had to go. She came back to her room and Kev was there, sitting on her mat on the floor. He had a smile that made Little Rat feel shaky, it reminded her of the smile that creepy drow had when he was waiting to stick Princess Else Tree. She wanted to back out of the room but he stopped smiling creepy and got up. "Hey, ya wanna practice fightin' some more?" he asked. "Nuh uh. You is not s'posed to be in my room wit'out askin." "Sorry. Can I be in your room?" "I guess so. If ya doesn't try ta make me fight." "Ok. I gots a secret, Little Rat. I did one." "What? Ya did one what?" "I got one a dem slavers. I dropped a rock on his nog." "You is lyin' ta me. You din't." "Did too. See, I gots his ring." He pulled a big flashy ring out of a pocket. It had blood in it. "He was gonna take dis girl ta his boat, an' I got real close an I stuck him in his jools wit' my stick, an' he fell down an' da girl gots away, an' he got after me an' he chases me ta down by da docks an I waits for him ta chase me down in da place by where da sea wall goes, an' he comes up unnerneefs of da wall, an I was uptop wit' a big ol' rock, an he shows his greasy beard an I drops da rock, his nog makes dis big splut noise an' all dis cool red gunk comes out, an' he flops like a seagull when ya cuts off it's birdy nog, an' den I goes down an' gets dis ring, I wuz gonna give it ta da girl what he was chasin' but she was gone." Kev polished the blood off against his shirt. Little Rat listened, fascinated but uneasy. Kev wasn't a hard case like the kids down in Low Town, and the cold way he had lured the man to his death made a cold lump settle in her gutts. "Kev, dis isn't right, is it?" She sat down next to him. "Hey, he hasta get paid back, right?" "But you's a kid. 'Sides' dere was more of 'em, right? Ya kilt da one, but dere was others." She grabbed the stuffed dragon toy that had been sleeping in her room during the day, and hugged it while she talked. "Yah, so we gots ta go figger out how ta off da others. All da folks what does bad stuff, all da folks what does all da t'ings what hurts kids an' den we gots ta punish da folks what does mean t'ings ..." "Kev, is you jus' gonna kill folks what ya never met? An' den when ya's kilt off all da folks what hurts kids what is ya gonna do den? Kill more folks?" She felt hot wetness on her cheeks, and rubbed her face on the dragon toy. "Ya gots ta stop it, Kev. We ain't da guards, we can't jus' go killin' da bad folks, even if we knowed who all da bad folks was. Cause sometimes da folks does bad stuff but dey isn't bad, like when da guy what juggles on da corner by da Spittin' Cobra gets a lots a janglies, he gifs us kids jobs an' den he feeds us. 'Cept if he got troubles wit' his cuddly girl he gets all nasty an' runs us offa da corner." She rubbed her eyes on the toy dragon's tail again. "Ya gots ta use da nog, Kev, ya can't jus' go killin' folks cause sometimes dey isn't bad, or sometimes it is jus' a axident. You is jus' a kid, you doesn't know if someone's a bad guy or if dey's a good guy but dey isn't doin' da good stuff. Like when I hadda steal stuff 'cause I was starvin'. Stealin' ain't right, but I hadda do it or I was gonna die a da sickness or sumthin'. Is you gonna kill me den too? Waddabout you, is you gonna kill you 'cause you does bad stuff sometimes, too?" "Oh." Kev was sitting with a shocked look on his face, then looked at the ring in his hand. He blinked and tears started to run down his face. "'Elya, help," Little Rat whispered into the dragon toy. "Hello, Little Rat," the droll voice from the doorway surprised them both, and the girl looked up. The wizard lady looked very pretty, with a shiny silver dress with arms that had pleats and folds that looked like wings. "Hello, Kev. You've been hard to find today." "I think I did somethin' bad," Kev whispered. "I kilt one of dem Ramish slave guys but Little Rat sez dat I coulda been wrong an' he was a good guy." "Was the person you killed really a slaver?" "'Course he was, dis is da ring he had," Kev showed the bright ruby-and-gold object to the wizard lady. "See, it gots da snake cut in da back, an' he had da iron shackles in da boat." "But Little Rat is right, you can't just go killing people just because they're doing something that makes you mad. There are good people and bad people, but you aren't old enough yet to tell the difference." She looked him in the eye. "You tell ME why you killed him." "'Cause he was bad an' 'cause he wasn't ever gonna stop." "No hope that he might change?" "Why would he do dat? Folks don't change." "They grow up, don't they?" "Yeah, but if dey does a bad thing dey needs ta get paid back for it." Kev set his mouth in a sullen pout. "But I is all confuzed now. I got mad at da slaver an' I jus' wanted ta make him hurt like da folks what he'd made hurt." "Come here, Kev." She held her arms open, and when he went over to her and she gave him a hug, it looked like a big bird with its wings around him. Little Rat sniffled a little, and then blinked - the shiny silver dress had made a flash like looking at the sun, and Little Rat felt like she had been carrying a big heavy rock in her chest that just went away. "Now tell me again, why would you ever want to kill someone?" the wizard lady said, and Kev just shook his head. "Dat's dumb. Why would I want ta kill someone? Dey is folks too, right? An' Little Rat says dat some of dem is bad 'cause dey is hungry or 'cause dey is sad an' dat we doesn't know." "Good answer." She gave Little Rat's dragon toy a pat on the head and went out into the hall. Little Rat went to the door and looked after her, but she was gone. MagicHutchHeader From: bingchar@cwis.isu.edu (BINGHAM_CHARLES_D) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Intro Date: 25 May 1993 17:57:16 -0600 Message-ID: <1tubos$sop@cwis.isu.edu> The night was passing slowly. Listener had played some old love song and it had gotten the entire crowd all sentimental. The figure in green and black was also affected by the song in much the same way as many of the others. However, he overcame it's effects by consuming even more Tiberian Ale. As he was finishing off his fourth mug of the strong drink and man entered the inn. He was somewhat short and quite chubby but carried himself with such dignity that most of the patrons took some notice of him. Upon closing the door, he surveyed the area. Finally his eyes rested on the man in green. With a few quick strides, he was standing at his table. "So you are The Nightwalker." he said, somewhat scornfully. "No sir, I am a Nightwalker and there are many more of my kind where I came from." the man in green said, not looking up from his mug. "My name is Chaos and if you have business with me then I would suggest you sit down." The chubby man was somewhat surprised by the man's reaction, but he did sit down. "You know quite well that I have business with you, as this arrangement has been in the planning for over a year now." he said as he signaled Serene. He ordered a glass of whiskey and then continued. "As I am now your official employer, I would advise you to provide me the courtesy with which I am entitled." The man could see a fire in Chaos' eyes when he looked up. "Listen, Fat Man! I provide courtesy to whom I please and my only employer is the Duke. It would be wise for you to remember that." Chaos gulped down the rest of his ale. "Now it is time for business. What is it that you would like me to do, Mr...?" "You can call me Crypto, obviously not my real name, but enough for you." the man answered. "As for your assignment, I assumed they would have told you before you left." "Well I guess you assumed wrong." Chaos said, still on the offensive. "I was informed that I was to be contacted in Generica at a place known as the Dragons Inn. My assignment was that of which my family is well known for, but the details of which were left out." Quickly glancing around the room and then back to Crypto, he said, "I assume you are the man who is supposed to tell me the details." Crypto looked very nervous, he kept quickly glancing around the room, hoping that nobody was listening in on the conversation. This man bothered him. It wasn't just his occupation, that was easy enough to deal with, it was something unexplainable that felt wrong. Still, he had signed the contract, knowing full well that he was paying for the best. Gulping down his whiskey, he said. "There is a wizard that has been engaged in some unwanted activities in my employer's lands. Being a small holding we are unable to afford the use of another wizard to deal with this problem. We were, however, able to afford the services of the Nightwalkers." Signaling for another drink, he continued, "We know very little about this wizard, but were told that what we knew would be enough." Looking at Chaos, he hoped to see some reaction to what he was saying. He didn't. "What is it you know and I will decide if it is sufficient for me to honor this contract." Chaos said emotionlessly. Wondering where that next drink was, Crypto continued. "The wizard is known only as Flametress, assumably because of her bright red hair. It is also known that she spends a great deal of time out socializing. With who, we aren't quite sure, as everyone of our spies has been returned with thier brians fried by her evil magic." His drink finally arrived and he quickly drank it, hoping soon this ordeal would be over. Chaos was quiet for a few moments, considering the information he had received. There was certianly enough for even his young nephew to accomplish this assignment, but he was not being told everything. He doubted that this fat fool had even been told. He looked closely at the man. He was nervous and did not like being here but he was not hiding anything. "The information is sufficient, you may tell your employer that I will honor the contract as signed. I will notify you of it's completion. Now if that is all, you may leave." he said nodding to Serene, his signal that he was ready for another drink. Crypto quickly stood and walked out of the inn, glad to be free of the assasins company. He had not gone more than 25 feet when he was grabbed from behind and dragged into a nearby alley. The next morning a body was found by the city guard. It was the body of a short, chubby human male with a single knife would in the back of his skull. Also found with the body was the black patch of the Clan Nightwalker. -- Bingo Beauty is only skin deep, bingchar@ba.isu.edu Ugly goes right to the bone. MagicHutchHeader From: scavanag@neumann.une.edu.au (Steven Cavangh) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [T&R] Rollik: Lord of the Heath pt5 Message-ID: <906@grivel.une.edu.au> Date: 26 May 93 01:24:37 GMT ADMIN: this is the second last part of the story. The next part shouldn't take long, and with luck I can get into some writing with Christian again and we can do more of Rollik and Timelord's present adventures. Thanks to all those who have given comments to me lately, they were helpful and my motivation was slipping. Anyway, here it is. Thanks also go to Chris Miller who helped me with the bit where everyone else but Rollik gets to meet the doomed parents of another inn member, Helios Darkmane. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ All thirty of the horns blared an agressive fanfare that spread rapidly out from the keep, blasting up the valley in a sonic flood. Given the time of year, the music, and the decorations, one could be forgiven for thinking that the moonripen festival was upon the land. Anyone who thought so was a week premature. No, this occasion was similar to the celebrations of two years past, as the younger of the Duke's sons came of age. The great hall was filled to capacity, and this was by no means a small feat. All of the nobles of the Duchy were present, and many from surrounding lands, garbed in splendour and murmuring amongst themselves. Armed guards lined the walls (for both practical and ceremonial purposes), and their commander stood proudly on the raised dais at the front of the hall. Skerg seemed to be a mass of plumes, epaulettes, medals and gold braid. The crowd suddenly hushed at the entrance of Gallan from the bronze doors at the rear of the hall. Following him was Rollik, and both men (for Rollik could now be called a man) made their way at a solemn pace up the aisle to the dais. Although both wore blue cloaks emblazoned with the silver sunburst crest, Rollik had chosen to wear white for the occasion to indicate his devotion to the causes of good. Gallan's mind was awash with sentimental turbulence as he performed the same ceremony that his father, Bolst, had performed for him many years before: the passing of the blade. Though his ruling of the Duchy would continue unchanged, the blade that had served him well for over twenty years would from this day be wielded by his son. With practised ease the Duke unbuckled the scabbard and reverently laid the blade on the velveted weapon-stand erected on the dais. Kethnak, openly proud of his brother, presented Rollik with the traditional white glove for the first drawing of the blade, and the young lord slipped it on his right hand with some anticipation. He glanced to Kayem in the front row, and she smiled her encouragement. It worked. Silent, inward awe filled Rollik as he at last touched the blade he had seen nearly every day for as long as he could remember. He buckled the scabbard to his own swordbelt clumsily, then swallowed and bared the blade with a swift ringing draw. He spoke the oath. "I, Rollik of the house of Valiast, swear on the blade of my forefathers that it shall be wielded in the name of justice and good alone. That it shall be used to protect the innocent and the lands in which they live, that it will cast down evil wherever it may lurk. By my power as a son of Valiast and the power of the blade, it will be done." As Rollik bowed at the end of the oath the assembly broke into applause (some politely, some with vigour). Several servants took their cue as the applause degenerated into casual conversations, and began serving trays of exquisite delicacies. Rollik was in a whirl as various guests congratulated him. The weight of the sword was new on his hip, but it felt comfortable, at home. Kayem took her turn in the congratulations, kissing him gently on the cheek. "You look great" she said, and meant it. "That single glove is definately fashionable". Rollik looked down and seemed to notice it for the first time. "For you" he said "I shall wear it always." As Rollik peered into her eyes he saw, as usual, her very self bared to him, all her feelings betrayed. There was love, pride for him, but something more. A glimmer of fear lay under the surface. Dread. That night, when the guests had left and they were alone save for a few passing servants, Rollik voiced his concern. "My love, there is fear in your heart." She was quiet for a moment, then tentatively spoke. "The festival is in but a week." she said, as if it explained everything. It did. Rollik pondered her words for several seconds, thinking of the festival, the entertainers, the guests... Annak. "Fear not." he said. "Although the Dreht family will be present at the grand celebration, It is tradition for a Valiast to celebrate with the commoners, and I have arranged for us to be at the costume ball on the other side of the city. You will not see nor hear of him." That may be,thought Skerg from the shadows,fingering his money pouch, but he will hear of you. ******************** "How do I look?" Rollik asked the servant girl casually, stepping out of the doorway. "Ridiculous" she answered truthfully, appraising his outsize hat, four inch long nose (that was starting to become unstuck), and a beltbuckle that could be used to pound grain. "Perfect." Rollik said with a wink. The young lord was garbed as Zorr de Hooderac, legendary long-nosed outlaw that took from the rich, gave to the poor and slashed a strange rune on people's chests. He adjusted the rapier on his hip, and waited at the bottom of the stair. When Kayem made her somewhat shy appearance, Rollik could not help but whistle his appreciation. The woman was stunningly beautiful in a flowing ball gown that rippled behind her like an extension of her wavy locks. She was dressed as a well-known fictional character whose name translated to something like "Frozen-water-burnt-woodella-who-sleeps-beautifully", the drugged-apple addict with a fetish for short people who drove a pumpkin, couldn't use a spinning wheel for nuts and could only be awakened by the kiss of a handsome frog. Rollik took her arm and they walked slowly to the waiting carriage in the courtyard. With twelve minutes to go, Rollik estimated that they would be fashionably on time. He glanced out the window. Even though it was night, the fields were lit with the seasonal brightness of the moon that provided the accelerated ripening of the succularants, the fruit that provided the Duchy with much of its income. The celebratory festival was in full swing, and the carriage drove through a city transformed. Banners, streamers, colours, dancers. The streets were full of revellers (some more than a little drunk), but they still made it to the watch-house on time. The building was constructed as a smaller version of the keep. As the city had grown out over the valley four had been built spaced evenly along the perimeter, providing convenient barracks, armoury and lookout for the city guards. With all the nobles at the Keep Valiast celebrations, a better place could not have been chosen for Kayem to keep her thoughts- and herself- away from Annak Dreht. The commoners' costume ball was just starting to create itself. People from all works of life were streaming into the decorated watch-house in many different costumes. A man disguised as a hooded Wraith was "attacking" a group of women, who laughingly feigned terror. A tall man wandered past dressed as an Ettin, his fake second head sitting awkwardly on one shoulder. Two young farmers even waddled into the party in the composite costume of a Black Dragon. Rollik and Kayem linked arms and drifted, free, into the merriment. ******************** Gallan gave a gentle, polite bow, and left yet another small cluster of guests engaged in animated conversation. The nobles' party was large indeed, larger than most years' festival banquets, but it was still his duty as host to ensure that everyone was enjoying themselves. True to form, he even approached the main entrance to chat to the guards when his attention was diverted by a pair of centaurs that had just come in. "Silver and Steel! Nathal Darkmane! I was unsure that my envoy would reach you!" He shook the huntmaster's well-muscled hand heartily. "Greetings, Gallan. Your envoy located us during a rest period. I trust you remember my wife and tribe priestess, Shalla ?" "Of course." the Duke bowed gracefully. At that, the beautiful female centaur reached down and clasped Gallan in a loving embrace. "Greetings, Gallan. We have missed you since the incursion. And where is your lovely wife?" A shadow crossed Gallan's features. "Darna has.. joined the light." he said, holding up a hand in acknowledgement of their comforting expressions. "But she left me with the two joys of my life, my sons Rollik and Kethnak." Keth was nearby talking to an aged, shrunken husk of a man: the Earl of Dreht, and Gallan beckoned them both over for formal introductions. As the centaurs appraised Gallan's elder son the huntmaster gave a rare show of emotion. "We, too, have a colt." stated Nathal with an edge of pride to his voice. "But Helios stayed with the tribe, as is custom". "Keth, Earl" Gallan said politely "I present centaurs Nathal and Shalla Darkmane, of the tribe Soesor. Centaurs, my son Kethnak and the Earl of our neighboring land of Dreht. I say, Dreht old boy, where's your young lad?" "He's-" the elder glanced around the room for a moment. "Why, he was here a minute ago." **************** Hot and breathless, Rollik and Kayem joined all others in the watch-house in another chorus of "Do-the-do-si-do'ing-dragon-dance", bringing the room to life with flapping arms and chomping teeth. As always, on the last chorus, some local wag lit a spurt of flammable alcohol from his mouth and produced whoops of laughter. Rollik was suddenly distracted by a six-foot pickle that tapped him on the shoulder politely. "Pardon, yer lordship. Seems there's some dockymentashun needs signin' back at the 'all". Rollik thanked the commoner and kissed Kayem quickly. "Pardon, my love, but the call of duty is not to be ignored". He made his way through the rowdy throng to the entrance. How easily Rollik had lost track of time. The moon was now higher in the sky, and yet the night seemed darker. A cold breeze contrasted the costume ball's warmth of fire and company as Rollik began the two-block walk to the city hall. His first indication that something was wrong was when the blackjack caught him at the base of the skull and drove him to one knee with the force of the blow. Despite the pain, this told Rollik something about the nature of the attack. A quick knockdown was usually ensured by striking to the temple, which meant that either the attacker was a novice or they wanted to toy with him. Head swimming, Rollik swung a reflexive backfist that connected with a crack. The young Lord used the momentum to spin around to face his attacker, standing up again as he did so. This enabled him to see that his attacker had eight companions. --------"--------- MagicHutchHeader From: whitaker@tlshpp7.ug.eds.com (Mike Whitaker - SDL) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [Redhead] A strange arrival Date: 26 May 1993 15:07:15 GMT Message-ID: <1u0133$ge1@suntan.eng.usf.edu> References: <1te3ne$rp5@suntan.eng.usf.edu> [ADMIN: I know, I know - I've switched tenses!] Time passed. The redhead, fumbling with fingers made clumsy by her intake of alcohol, dug out another few coins for another drink - whisky again. Carelessly she dropped the remaining meagre coppers on the table, and stared at them intently as one spun on its edge for a moment or two, as if, by staring, they could somehow be made to multiply by sheer force of will. She sighed, and left the coins where they lay, hands clasped hungrily around the tumbler of spirits in front of her. The bard had stopped, to rest and refill his wineskin. An unreadable expression crossed her face, and she breathed "I remember..." and softly, mostly to herself, gaze fixed on the amber liquid in the glass in her hands, she began to sing, a sad tune with a raw edge... [ADMIN: Think Bon Jovi: "Never Say Goodbye"] "I remember nights in smoky bars Making music, chasing stars Friends together, four as one But now it seems those dreams have gone..." A pause, frown crossing her face. "C'mon kid..." she muttered fiercely to herself. "You *wrote* it. Even if you can't remember your damn name..." For a moment or two she sat, brow furrowed, and eventually banged the glass on the table in frustration. Luckily it didn't break, and she buried her face in her arms for a moment or two, then straightened up, cheeks wet with fresh tears, and tossed off the remains of the whisky in one. For a long while she stared at the empty glass, then, slowly, with exaggerated care, set it down on the table and rested her head on her arms. -- Mike Whitaker +44-223 | mikew@ug.eds.com (preferred) \ Me: Bards just Shape Data/EDS 371565 | mwhitaker@cix.compulink.co.uk \ KNOW things... MagicHutchHeader From: fogelinc@pt.Cyanamid.COM (Carl Fogelin) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Observing] This rose has thorns Date: 28 May 1993 21:21:48 GMT Message-ID: <1u5vpc$84@c3po.jvnc.net> >Turning, he saw a man in a tan trench coat, wearing a brown fedora and spats. > >The fellow smiled a toothy smile and said "Mr Knaks, I know many things. I >know that that field causes you discomfort, here on Nexus. I know your desires, >I know your needs, and I would like to help." > >Crombie thought about it and then said "Under what terms?" > >"Minor, Mr Knaks. I assure you, very minor payment." 'In a pigs eye' thought Crombie, but he figured he'd hear the fellow out. After all, unheard offers were potentially missed opportunities. "OK, let's suppose that I'm interested in your services. How would you help me, and what would it cost?" The man smiled and pointed to a small alley way. "Let's discuss it over here, so the revelry doesn't both us." Crombie looked a bit unsure, but nodded his head and entered the side-alley, making sure his back was to the opening. He also patted his utility belt, to make sure the taser was there. They walked a short way inside, then the man said "The contract is simple. I will provide a service for which you will make a payment. The discomfort you feel, as you know, is from your body fighting the unnatural alignment of Nexus, at least unnatural for someone from your plane." "You currently fight your body's natural defenses with strong, blunt magic -- that ring" said the man, pointing at Crombie's hand. "If, however, you were not physically manifested..." Crombie started to interrupt, but the man said "hear me out, please? Ok, if you were, say a ghost, then your physical link to your home plane would be broken and you wouldn't experience any discomfort." "A ghost!" said a shocked Crombie. "What are you? A necromancer?" "Sort of" the man replied. "But a ghost can't do anything. Just haunt a place, rattle some chains, and scare new house buyers." "On the contrary, Mr. Knaks, a ghost can do many things. They are not bound by the normal constraints placed on the living. They can pass through solid matter, turn invisible to eavesdrop, and talk with both living and other undead." "And the cost?" "Just a small piece of your essence, the part that leaves when you die." "So, you want my soul in exchange for becoming the ultimate spy, huh?" Muttering to himself, Crombie says "I feel like I'm in Damn Yankees..." Then his eyes suddenly narrow. At first slowly, and then speeding up "You know, for somone I've never met before, you sure know a lot about me." The fellow fidgeted a bit and sensed that Crombie was starting to become difficult. "In fact, you know a lot about not only me but what I am, AND you're trying to tempt me with powerful capabilities, used with questionable ethics. I'm sorry, I must turn you down. Thanks for the offer." He quickly turned around and headed back out of the alleyway. "WAIT... RIGHT...THERE..." a booming voice behind him said. Looking over his shoulder, he saw that the man was changing into some sort of beast. "I...WAS REASONABLE...BEFORE. NOW...I...TAKE" and the thing lunged towards Crombie. Quickly grabbing the taser from his utility belt, Crombie turned towards the charging man/beast and yelled "Stand Back! Or I'll Zap Ya." The man/beast just laughed at him. Crombie stabbed the taser at the beast and released 150,000 volts into it's flesh. The beast jolted up-right and smoke started to emerge from its mouth and hair. When Crombie disengaged the taser, the beast stood still for a moment and then said "WOW!!!" Turning to look at Crombie with an evil glint in his eyes, the beast said "Do that again. Please..." Crombie looked incredulously at the beast, the taser, then turned and ran out of the alley, screaming. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Carl Fogelin (fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com) "All opinions are strictly mine" Up the long ladder and down the short rope, To Hell with King Billy and God bless the Pope. -- traditional MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] Hangover. Message-ID: <1993May29.032454.8756@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Sat, 29 May 93 03:24:54 GMT Palandun awoke a couple hours later, asking where he was. "In the Temple of Ilmater." the person over him said. This prompted Palandun to ask an ill concieved question: "Who?" "Ilmater, the goddess of healing. Surely you've heard of her." "Sorry, my religious education was kinda slow. Besides, I'm not from around here." "Your accent gave that away. Just for our records, would you mind telling us how you came to be in...ill health?" "I ran into a drainer. Undead which stave off the rotting process by sapping one's health. Where's my sword?" "Outside the temple of Besht. That's where you were found. Please lie down!" This last was directed at Palandun's attempt to rise. "Can't." Palandun explained. "City's under attack. Gotta find Karl. Ah, *&%$#!, he's dead. Do me a favor." He grabbed the acolyte of the kind goddess by the lapel, "send a runner to Melwis, tell him that the Bismanian ambassador requires an urgent audience with him. I'll follow directly." Palandun lifted and harched out the door as fast as he could. As a lieutenant in the Fourth Orc War, Palandun's platoon had often been assigned to scouting duty. It was thusly, while scouting a path through some marshes, that he had last encountered drainers. The platoon had been forced away and everyone had taken wounds. They had left their transport at the camp, and so had to march the five miles back. Palandun remembered it as the worst walk of his life. He remembered the stroll to the temple of Besht and then to the town square as the second worst. It takes a day or two to recover fully from a Drainer, and he'd reckoned he had two hours. The experience was rather similar to being forced to do calesthenics at a rock concert, with a hangover. After using up his rhetorical skills in obtaining an audience with Melwis the wise, who would much rather enjoy the fireworks from his pavillion in the town square than be bothered by some KID who claimed to be the ambassador from a country he'd only heard of once or twice, especially when the kid insisted on doomsaying in a particularly ludicrous way. Palandun decided to be very frank with the aged, kind-looking man sitting on what appeared to be a throne under his tent. A particularly spectacular firework went off and the aged man cheered. "Melwis," Palandun said, after the cherring had died down sufficently, "Your city is under attack." "So you are the Bismanian ambassador." Melwis said, looking rather graver than when he had been watching the light show, "I suppose you'll tell me that only you can help next. Indebit my people to your people forever, and all that. I must admit, you look younger than I had thought you would." "I am the only person from my country legitimately on the continent. My people are at least two months away, if they could be persuaded to come at all. I personally will do what I can, but we have a saying back home: 'Lives are beyond price, and must be freely exchanged.' You owe me nothing. As for my being young, it may be said that you are older than I thought, and I had hoped not to have to deal with a single ruler at all." "Are you implying that our Ruler Melwis the Wise is old and infirm?" An aide stepped up to ask, "would you commit treason before his very nose?" "He's not my ruler." Palandun replied. "And if you can't speak ill of your DIC, how does he know when he screws up? BUT, I didn't come here to swap barbs. I'll take mine back if you'll take yours." Palandun hated doing this, but it had to be done. He reminded himself that there were places where they took your word for who you were, and trusted you so long as you trusted them. Melwis considered. "We will hear the ambassadors missive, and decide whether he is too young later." Palandun considered also, and decided to take the half a loaf. "There are evil forces invading the city. My guess is that they are either already inside or just outside the gates." He explained about his encounter with the drainer, and how drainers tended to hang out with other, more sinester beings. "You were in a swordfight, and yet not wounded." The aide said, beginning the cross examination. "In most of my previous fights, blades were poisoned. Besides, I was in the temple of Ilmater but ten minutes ago." "The messenger has verified this, but he said that you suffered not a mark, merely unconsciousness. It was initially thought that you suffered from overmuch drink." In answer to this Palandun breathed on the aide. "No alcohol. Halitosis, but no alcohol." "It is our judgement that we cannot make a decision without further evidence. The city guard is already in a state of readiness, but if the Bismanian Ambassador would be able to bring us some corroborating evidence, then we would be better able to judge his plea." Melwis said, apparently growing tired of the debate. "You are excused." Palandun set out on the town to find some more evidence. 'Cute' the thought, passing a troupe of circus performers. "Tell your fortune, sir?" a short, largish woman asked. "Huh?" Palandun replied destractedly. "Oh, no thanks." "You may be a rich man!" She said, "OR reunited with your loved ones." "Don't care much for money. And all my loved ones are in one place which I can fairly easily get to. Listen, I don't begrudge anyone as...entertaining a job as this, but would you please allow me to discover my future my way?" Something about the woman irked Palandun, and he vanished before it manifested itself any more. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: ADMIN: History of Nexus? Message-ID: <1993May29.032926.8937@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Sat, 29 May 93 03:29:26 GMT I was wondering... It is possible to cobble together a history of the places mentioned in the gazeteer and directory of generica, would anybody want a periodical (say, month by month) posting with that information? I'll do it, if anybody's willing to help by sending me mail telling me "This isn't right, I wanted lord such-and-such to be in the year 1234, not 1134 you moron!" So, how about it? Al. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [MG] [BDAY] Letting Go Message-ID: <1993May29.000024.1126@data-io.com> Keywords: Kadrys, Kardia Date: Sat, 29 May 1993 00:00:24 GMT "I can let go of it Though it takes all the strength in me And all the world can see I'm losing such a central part of me I can let go of it..." "Love to be Loved" on _So_ by Peter Gabriel Slow dance, sweet dance, Kardia had wrapped up her shawl and dropped it near the band's platform after 'Raelf had run off into the crowd to find someone. The rest set was peaceful, relaxing, and Kadrys' grace was a challenge to dance with and to. The music helped, and after dropping the shawl, she let the magic take her. The steps were simple, the rhythm easily followed, and she delighted in the feeling of moving with Kadrys, each step in synch, their bodies moving in easy, graceful coordination. She hadn't thought she'd ever dance again, and it was sweet to follow the mood. When Rock Lobster came crashing down around them, Kardia had to laugh. At Kadrys' wince, she hugged him gently and then laughed again and bounded into those that were still there and then cut loose of all the tension that had built up since they'd first threaded their way through the crowd to face Raffi, with nothing more structured than flinging her body into the hot tide of the beat. She didn't notice that Kadrys had bounded in after her until he suddenly confronted her. The pensive, sombre, slightly wistful expression she had begun to think was habitual to him was gone without trace. His whole face transformed by a wicked grin and the sudden sharp glint in his eyes. Pure flashlife. Without a thought, Kardia returned his grin, mirrored his stance, and then moved, quick and hard to the right. He slid right in an instant echo, its eerie speed almost an anticipation of her movement, and then they exchanged advances. She laughed. There was no preset pattern, nothing but reaction, reflection and high energy from the music. Kardia's heels never touched the ground. Feigned feint and close block, they never touched, but never lost track of each other. Whirl and slide, step and strut. Kardia had to watch Kadrys closely to make it a duet. She had to stop thinking, had to simply react. He blurred into an arching kick, a cobra-fast blow flashing past her ear; and she managed to echo the motion late with a whirling almost-block. Kardia's eyes narrowed at the speed of his foot's passage by her ear. He might have taken her head off with that kind of strength. Some part of her trusted that he wouldn't, another was furious at his not sticking with something she could follow, and part revelled in his speed. All her reactions caused her to watch him that much closer. The dance wasn't slam or razor as she knew it, but there was still violence under its bright quickness, something between them like a high tension wire that made them utterly aware of each other. Then the wizard torches flared and Kardia winced at the brightness. Kadrys paused in response to her flinching and the dance was broken. She sighed, put her feet together and bowed a sweaty bow with a tired grin. She got a good look at Kadrys as he bowed back. The dryness of his skin, the stillness of his chest startled her at a visceral level. Logic won in her lack of reaction, but she didn't much like her emotional recoil. Dasham's entrance made Kardia stop and just watch. She found herself trembling at the fulfillment of Dasham's desire and wondering at who the tortured young man was as well as the connection with the old being that had crumbled to dust. She had stepped back at the entrance of the helmeted man with the dark eyes, and when she felt Kadrys' arms come around her from behind, she hugged them to her gratefully. She sighed as the bodies were taken away, was happily entranced by the folk song and then jumped as 'Raelf leaped and sprung back, laughing, into the party. She chuckled at his exuberance and sighed as she let go of Kadrys' arms. Kardia shook her head slightly. The deaths and screaming had broken her partying mood. Kadrys was quietly at her elbow, responsive as ever to her body language. She smiled somewhat absently at him and then stepped close and hugged him thoroughly. His gentle embrace in return finally got her smile to reach her eyes. Then, answering the unspoken question in his face, she said "If... if you don't mind, I think I'd like to be alone for a while. I really have something I need to think about on my own." Kadrys frowned, his thoughts unfathomable behind his dark eyes. "Will you go back to the Inn?" "Yes... I have a room for the night, and I'm tired." "There may be demons about..." Kadrys gave her his wry grin as Kardia waved the bundle of her shawl at him. "All right, then, be careful. I'll be by tomorrow to check on your... wounds?" His fingertip gently traced the soft curve of her throat. Her eyes closed at the touch and she smiled. She sighed and opened her eyes. "Yes, I'd like that." Kardia drew the folds of the shawl around her shoulders and felt something slip away from her and her tiredness almost hit her like a blow. She sighed, breathed deep and slow, in and out, in and out and the tiredness was pushed back. Then, quietly, she walked away from the party towards the Inn. The world flicked, sharpened as she used her low-light sight. It turned all silver and black, edges sharp and clear. As she walked, though, her sight blurred as tears formed in her eyes. Slow, quiet tears. Tears for the fear, for the joy, for the terror, for the deaths, for the welts and scars on that unknown young man's tortured body. Tears for herself, for what she had seen in Raffi's eyes when he had *looked* to see her heart's desire. Tears at Kadrys' pain, at the betrayals he'd gone through. Tears that ached in her throat for her own memories. Tears for Raffi's shock at her "No." Tears for the consequences of saying that "No." because she now knew she was _afraid_ when she'd seen Alistair's reflection in those rainbow eyes. Tears for not knowing why she had been afraid. Tears for the ecstasy and the vulnerability she known from Kadrys' Kiss. Tears at knowing of the black chains that had been ripped from 'Raelf's satyrlion body. Tears from the tiredness, from the bliss of finally dancing again, and from the memory of Alistair partnering her for her prom and how they had laughed on the razor's edge. Tears for how differently Kadrys danced from Alistair. No two people ever dance quite the same. Tears for all purposes and none. She quietly cried as she walked, not holding anything back now that she no longer had to deal with anything. The jumble of confused and conflicting reasons was let gently loose into the world, the slow relief of a deep, all encompassing ache. Kadrys stood like a statue, pale and stark and still, watching her out of sight. Hearing the growing raggedness of her breathing, despite her straight shoulders, as she dwindled into the distance. Knowing the anguish, the confusion she was trying to hide. His mind full of the cold wisdom that there are times when the greatest comfort for pain is in solitude. And his heart full of sudden, hot hate of that wisdom. As she approached the Inn from the square, she wiped away her tears and found some food still left on the various tables. She put a couple of sandwiches together for herself, a handful of fruit, and found a tray to put all that and a mug of cider as well. She continued to leak slow tears and continued wiping them away. She did not meet anyone's eyes and did not look up from her haphazard gathering. She brought the food up to her room and lit a lamp. She ate and drank singlemindedly, realizing that this was the first food that she'd had all day. After the meal, she used the washroom and brushed her teeth slowly and methodically, then used the small spool of dental floss that she'd gotten from her guest room at the lighthouse. And all the while she wiped away the slow accumulation of tears. The smile she gave herself in the rippled mirror was tired, and she pulled out a handkerchief from her bags and blew her nose in it and wiped her still leaking eyes. She stripped and curled up under the covers and finally let herself sob, let herself cry with every muscle in her body, the pillow against her face so as not to disturb anyone else. The fierceness of her crying was painful, it scraped her throat and knotted her muscles, her bottom lip felt like it was stretched permanently from how hard she'd tensioned her face; but she didn't hold it back. There was no one to know, and it was easier this way. She cried it through. The storm of sobs could not be maintained for long by someone only human. It had to pass away... When the first, pale fingers of sunlight reached through her window, she was finally quiet. A soft hiccough, a giggle, and in a soft voice and a language worse than a universe away, "Loved you, Alistair. I think I finally got it, love. Maybe I really can take care of myself..." Kardia curled up just a little tighter within the warm nest of her blankets and fell asleep. --- [ADMIN: Thanks to Andrea Evans for her approval of Kadrys' conversation and the addition of his thoughts on the actions here; as well as for letting him dance with Kardia... :) ] -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [NERC] catching up slowly... Date: 30 May 1993 04:55:07 GMT Message-ID: <1u9end$acn@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> [ADMIN: For Miscrir, Amberle, Toscon, Artimian, Nercrum, Arthsplunt, Ghurney and Splunk the storm is just beginning. The writers are experiencing academical lag. Another longer post should be coming soon.] The sky slowly darkens as the late crowd stumbles into the Drift Inn. Bowls of soup and ales are brought to the weary people by a huge, smiling woman. She exchanges them for sheckles or checks off their name in a notebook. An equally smiling halfling shuffles behind the bar serving drinks of various colors. The atmosphere, however, feels in direct contrast to the hosts. Darkness covers more than half of the inn, kept at bay only by a fireplace at one end. Most of the patrons are solemn and insistant, almost buisness-like. Very few sit near the fire. Black mist flows through the cracks in the wall furthest from the fire. It condences into a vaguely humanoid shape beside a very pale man. <> Nercrum directs at the wraith. {...of course... ...master...} it replies. Nercrum stares at a broken spiked collar in his hands. His shoulder winces momentarily from the memory of his first fight with Hot Seccho. But the humility quickly fades against the rewards of last night. <> He inserted his finger through one of the blood-soaked holes in the collar. <> {...his life... ...flowed...into you...} Nercrum stared at a spike on the collar, his mind replaying images from the fight last night. Hot Seccho thrusting a wooden stake through his arm. The brief taste of blood as his fangs punctured the collar. Chaos as a hand gripped his throat acompanied by a swirling black mist. The touch. {...you wounds...will heal... ...in a day...} <> {...i was known as... ...shawn...} <> {...it is...hard to say... ...hundreds at least...} The pale man's eyes glowed red for a moment in surprise. <> {...the forest... ...has much...life...in it...} <> {...yes...} <> {...master...} <> {...chicele...wants to see you...} Nercrum thrust the collar into the mist beside him. The mist condenced further around the collar, supporting it. <> The black mist carried the collar out through a hole in the wall. Rain was coming in easily through many such holes in the Drift Inn. The patrons had moved closer to the bar and the one solid wall in an attempt to avoid getting wet. Nercrum stayed at his table in near darkness and watched. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: g91o1445@warthog.ru.ac.za (MR ND OLIVER) Subject: lost as an elf in a coalmine Message-ID: Keywords: lost Date: Sun, 30 May 1993 14:29:40 GMT Hi. Sorry for sounding a little dim, but I've just hooked up and I was wondering exactly what the old "dragons-in" is all about. Is it just an assortment of stories that folks have written in? If so - excellent. If not could someone tell me what's going on, cause as I said, I'm as lost as one of the fair folk in deep, dark hole. ÿWPCK MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Bulletin Board Date: 30 May 1993 02:51:03 GMT Message-ID: <1u97en$r6e@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: Bulletin, board, admin -=- Dragon's Inn Bulletin Board -=- week ending 28-May-93 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NEW THIS WEEK: none -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OTHER ACTIVE POSTS: Posted by: Imports, Exports, and Arms (Jeremy Nelson, gujn@uniwa.edu.au) Content: WE apologize for any time distortions in the local area, however, due to testing of a device (Henceforward known as 'The Thing'), the local timestream has become dislocated. There is no danger, however some people may undergo slight disorientation. Some people may apparently find themselves in multiple locations at one time. We assure customers that this is not dangerous, and all time lines are in fact continuous, and will straighten themselves out in time. We recommend leaving early for any important appointments. Normal service will be restored tomorrow, yesterday, in three weeks' time, and in three hundred and thirty years. All complaints should be forwarded to: Imports, Exports, and Arms. We thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Moriarty (Aaron Humphrey, aaron@space.ualberta.ca) Content: |-------------------------------| | Moriarty Investigations, Inc. | | | | Magic and muscle at your | | service! No problem too large | | or small! Reasonable rates! | | | | 15A-Gamma Cor Caroli Lane | | Just off the Arcade of | | Unforgotten Heroes! | |-------------------------------| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Trawm (The Dreamer, asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Content: Attention all Real Men: If you is reading this then you is in the rong bar. Come to the Spitting Cobra were you can have a good time at a good prise. FITING ENKOURAGED. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Malthus Dela Noeuze (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Content: **************************************** ** Perfumerie Grand Veneur ** ** Is Seeking a Person To ** ** Find and Bring Back a Great ** ** Blooddrinker or Souleater ** ** For Perfumeric Substances ** ** All Contacts Considered ** ** ** ** Master Perfumerist Malthus ** ** Dela Noeuze ** **************************************** SPECIAL STATUS: Posted by: Zenith (Mike Bavister, mrhyde@netcom.com Content: ANNOUNCING THE A.P.D-I ARCHIVES I have been carefully recording all that has transpired here at the Inn and in Generica. I estimate that my archives are missing less than 1 in 100. The archives contain over 4600 chapters (articles) in 20 huge volumes (MB). Currently the archives are only indexed by Subject (Subject line), but my trusty scribes are hard at work attempting to compile a keyword-index by name, place, and "thread". Alas, this task may take a while. There are two methods by which you, the citizens of Generica, can access the archives (and their indexes). Via the Post-Office or by Magic. Via Mail: Send mail to the address below, with your request in the body of the message. I will then search the index(es) for you, and either mail you the matching "chapters" or a list of matches (if there are too many "hits"). Until the keyword index is compiled, I will be very reluctant to search the actual archives for your requests. TO: mrhyde@netcom.com. EXAMPLE: Dear Zenith, Please search your archives for all occurance of "Lancos" or "Zebron". Thanks. Via Magic: I have set aside a portion of my personal library for the Indexes and other materials of interest. If you know the powerful "FTP" spell, you can access the indexes directly. The arcane formula is listed below. This archive is "read-only", you may retrieve anything you like from it, but you can't place anything there. If there is something you'd like placed there for the benefit of all Generican citizens, let me know via mail. Do not forget to use "binary mode" for all not in ".txt" format. The FTP library currently contains: Subject indexes (no.1-no.3999) The Directory of Generica (latest edition) JourneyGarb flyer/catalog APDI FAQs (full and mini) And coming soon: The DragonQuest Saga *note* All ".zip" files are compressed using the latest state-of-the-art compression magic. Older uncompression magic may not work (use "zip19" or "pkzip2.04"). If you have any difficulty with either the transfer of files or decompression, please let me know. ftp netcom.com(192.100.81.100) login: anonymous password: (your e-mail address) cd /pub/mrhyde/APDI Cheers and happy reading ____ / __ __ o _|_ | / |__| | | | | |__ /___ |__ | | | |_/ | | Head Librarian of the Great Library of Generica -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- REMOVED THIS WEEK : none _________________________________________________________________________ ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kcj8521@ultb.isc.rit.edu (K.C. Johnson ) Subject: [BH] Amberle + Toscon Message-ID: <1993May31.132204.14016@ultb.isc.rit.edu> Date: Mon, 31 May 1993 13:22:04 GMT Amberle smiled. Toscon's advances were kinda cute. /How do I get him to be a real human being instead of the gallant knight though./ she thought. "Oh your so kind, and the flattery will get you pretty far but.... well not to far today sir." she smiled invitingly. " My shoulder seems to be acting up and I really would like to give it a rest today. So how about a nice game of cards?" Toscon thought about it for a second. / There wasn't any mention of going to the bazaar. Just a thought about it for a second./ Toscon shrugged. "Don't see why not?" As Toscon sat down Ghurney appeared with a pot and placed it on a table near them where the roof had stated to leak from the mournings raining. Artimian looked at Toscon for a moment and then got up. "Sorry gentle people I think I would rather sit by the fire" With that Artimian got up and moved to the fire where he sat by Miscrir. Amberle looked at Arthsplunt and started dealing. Arthsplunt picked up the card and looked at it. A glimmer of surprise was barely contained as he watched a small reproduction of the scene in the alleyway the night before. Arthsplunt returned Ambele's gaze with a slightly shocked one of his own "I wonder if I might just watch the first few hands, I'm not to sure as to wether I know this game or not." Amberle smiled. Toscon still did not know what this little card game was about. She shuffled in the cards from Arthsplunt and turned to Toscon again. "A few warm up hands maybe?" she said. MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BH][STORM] (Yes, I know it's late...) Date: 1 Jun 1993 03:13:04 GMT Message-ID: <1uehg0$lqd@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> A tall lanky youth flew through the makeshift door to the Drift Inn, knocking over a table and running into a man in a chair. The youth tried to say something over his shortness of breath, but was interrupted as the man stood indignantly and shouted, "You spilled my drink!" Ghurney was there instantly, shoving the man back into his chair and picking the youth up with one arm. Splunk offered to sell the man another drink at half price while Ghurney and the youth talked outside. Toscon looked at his cards. He hadn't won a hand yet, but she also hadn't noticed him cheating. He smiled, thinking his luck was about to pan out. "So, what do you think that was all about?" "Nothing important I would think", Amberle smiled. "Flush. I think that should win easily." Amberle reached for the pile of pretzels they had been using to bet with. "Now wait a minute!" "You can't beat a flush can you?" Amberle returned with a hurt look. "Well no, But shouldn't you check what I have first?" Amberle smiled and continued to scoop up the pretzels. "No need" she replied. "Um..." Toscon draws a line from a pool of rainwater on the table to the end so it won't drip on his seat. "Are these cards ok in water?" "No problem just deal" Over by the fire, Artimian and Miscrir were deep into a philosophical discussion. "Red, definitely. Or yellow." Miscrir said. "You've said that about every one of them!" Artimian said. "Every one, red, red, red." "I did say or yellow for that one." Artimian paused. "I'll give you that. Yellow would suit her well. Say, have you noticed Splunk going to the basement quite a lot recently?" "Not until you mentioned it." "I wonder what they're doing?" "Looks like moving stuff down into the basement." Miscrir shrugged. "Now, how about her?" he pointed at the next woman at the bar. "Definitely red." MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BH][STORM] Artimian's view. Date: 1 Jun 1993 03:22:05 GMT Message-ID: <1uei0t$mnr@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> The rain continued to get heavier, at an almost exponential rate. Everyone from upstairs abandoned their sodden blankets and took to the solace of the tables and bar. Streams of water leaked through the outside walls, making pools on the floor. Lightning flashed close and frequent. Too close. Too frequent. Many touched inside the city. A few struck within sight, leveling buildings. Splunk and Ghurney had reversed their plan of moving everything into the basement as soon as one of the puddles found the stairs down. The first thing they brought up was some wood that they were planning to use for the rooms upstairs. After a brief discussion and a few shekels handed out, some of the patrons started reconstructing the walls. When asked to help, Arthsplunt complained about his frailty and age. He did eventually pull a ball of clay out of some pocket and set it on the bar stool beside him. After staring at it a bit, it grew into a eight foot tall golem which he ordered to assist in the repair of the walls. Artimian was sitting cross-legged on the bar, watching the events with growing concern. Dart was cowering in his backpack, taking flight at any loud noise, visiting a random corner and return shortly afterwards. His night lizard curled tightly around his arm, allowing him to see clearly the destruction the storm was doing on the streets. Strangely, Miscrir just sat by the fire, watching Amberle and Toscon intensely playing their game of cards. The hyperbola was the only other thing not seeking shelter from the rain. It stood by one of the larger holes (dubbed the Beggars Window) and excitedly dodged every raindrop. So far only it's paws were wet. The new, solid-wood door to the Drift Inn opened again, letting eight soaked people in. They claimed that their homes had been destroyed and the temples were full. "This building doesn't look that safe," one said. "But it's one of the few still standing. Will you take us in?" Splunk put them to work reinforcing the walls. One of them was a carpenter and took charge of the repairs immediately. "This is silly," Artimian said to himself. "It doesn't rain like this. Not in any of the worlds I've been in." He fished a thick piece of chalk out of his backpack while Dart was away. Whispering an incantation that was half magic, half prayer, he drew a binding pentagram on the bar. His words ended as the last symbol was drawn and a form began to take shape. A small, dark-violet creature with talons, fur, and leathery wings looked slowly up to Artimian's forehead. The spell prevented it from saying anything until it was asked a question, so it focused on his aura and shields. There were always weaknesses. The spell had dubious results at best. Demons were to be trusted only as much as they were bound, and the spell varied with each casting. However, it was one Artimian was used to casting and he had developed certain questions that were useful. "What is your name." The blood-red eyes lost their focus for a moment, allowing Artimian to stare directly into them. "I am called Mantist," it growled. "That wasn't what I asked." An emotion almost crept into the creature's eyes. They widened almost imperceptibly and changed to a darker shade. Artimian waited for it's answer. This would tell him how much he could trust the demon for the duration. "My name is Abako-Ri-Sak." Artimian grinned. If nothing else came out of this, he at least had a name to use. "Now, Mantist. I'm curious about this storm. Go straight up and tell me what drives it. Do not leave the protected column." The demon nodded and flew out the ceiling, leaving a small, burnt hole. Ghurney sloshed up the stairs and slid the last of the crates under the bar. She looked at the halfling, Splunk with mournful eyes while squeezing water out of her hair and arms. "The bottles and kegs will just have to do for themselves. I can't hold my breath long enough to get anything else." More people had entered. They went to help with the reconstruction, as did many of the patrons. Miscrir had turned and was now watching the fire, which was still burning as well as when they entered. Artimian decided he'd better join him before he was asked to help as well. He pulled a chair up and started to make a general friendly remark when a splintering noise forced him to cover his ears, counterpointed by a very specific scream and followed by a low, pattering hum. When he looked up, rain poured directly onto his face, obscuring his vision. "Damnit," Miscrir said beside him. "Not again." Artimian shielded his eyes with his hand and looked around briefly. The ceiling, along with the second floor of the inn, was gone. Arthsplunt's jaw was dropped in horror as his golem melted before the onslaught of the rain. Ghurney was shaking her head. Splunk was crying. Hype was covering an area about three feet in diameter, dodging the raindrops at a blinding rate. Toscon sat alone at the table, looking over the far wall. "And I had a royal flush..." ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- SEMI-ADMIN: I eventually want to be a fantasy novelist. I know I have a good amount to learn, and this group is probably the best place I've found to experiment in. If people would be so kind, I'd like to get feedback on what things are good and what I can improve on. I'd be willing to offer my opinions in return if desired. Melchi the White csteiner@oucsace.cs.ohiou.edu Artimian, Dart, List, Medor, Effandir, Toscon, Hype, and Arthsplunt are mine. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------- MagicHutchHeader 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 MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] Hunting for hunters. Message-ID: <1993Jun1.151244.24573@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Tue, 1 Jun 93 15:12:44 GMT 'Now,' Palandun thought, 'If I were a spirit, where would I be? Be careful what you wish for, Pal, you may get it.' Palandun suddenly remembered he knew exactly where a drainer was... The Statue of Norad the Watchful hadn't changed at all since Palandun had last seen it. The half a body which was supposed to be there yelling insults at him had left, though. In it's place was a full-bodied figure, lying face up in the half-shadows. Either the Drainer had found a victim or was laying out a trap. Or both. Palandun drew Gynsoo and swiftly yet cautiously approached the body. "Are you okay?" Palandun asked, keeping his distance. He was answered by a moan. Experimentally, Palandun pinked the body in the forearm: red blood. Either the most healthy drainer on record or a real victim. In either case pretty harmless. Gynsoo was left out, but Palandun managed to sling the person over his shoulder. He swiftly exited the area, not wishing to search for the drainer, the victim was very short on time. But he would have to wait a little while, the temple of Ilmater was under siege.A force of demons had surrounded it, they couldn't get in, but neither could anyone else. A large number of watchmen had surrounded the demons but weren't taking any positive action. Palandun was headed off and told to place his victim in the medical staging area, a stretch of sidewalk slightly cleaner than the rest. There was no healer in attendance, as they all were inside. By the use of judicious credential-flapping, Palandun managed to obtain an audience with the captain in his command post, a corner table of a nearby pub, equipped with runners, maps, and the odd mug of beer. "Ah, ambassador, how nice to see you." A lieutenant said, "I'm the Public Representative. I'm afraid the Captain is busy right now." "What's the captain planning? What action will he take?" "The captain plans to wait until morning." "I don't think that'll work, you have wounded that won't last the night." The lieutenant rolled his eyes, he was used to pushy spectators. "May I at least see the map? I promise I won't get in the way." The PR let him in. The map had symbols indicating demons and watchemen on it, and one of the watchmen counters was being moved to the injury staging area. "Did lieutenant winters seal off the gap?" The oldest man at the table asked. "Yessir, Captain, I'm worried about the wounded. Some may not make it till the siege lifts." Something on the map caught Palandun's eye. "Casualties of war, Winters." The captain remarked. "Not neccisarily." Palandun said. "Look, a secret entrance." He pointed to the map. "We looked at that, the demons are there too." "Draw them off with a diversionary attack on the main gate." The two of them spent the next fifteen minutes arguing if the plan was feasable or not. "Captain." A voice said. It was Melwis' aide. Palandun suddenly realized that he'd really lost this time. "You will extend to ambassador Palandun any aid he requests." The Demon leader first noticed that the injured were being put on stretchers and moved out. He rightly concluded that something was about to happen, anticipating an attack on the main gate, a desperate shove to get the injured through. Sure enough, the guardsmen attacked in force pretty soon, and the front had just stabilized when a report came in, the guards had attacked elsewhere simultaneously and broken through, injured were going through a heretofore secret entrance. He redeployed, a skeleton group holding back the watchmen while the major part of his force went to the breakthrough. The last thing the leader heard was a "NOW!" and the musical thrumming of a volley of arrows being launched. MagicHutchHeader Date: Tue, 1 Jun 1993 09:25:49 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93152.092549ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Luthor's Exit (Part I) Luthor and Krupp were leaving the beach. As they walked toward the heart of Generica, they could hear the merry-making in the distance. Luthor turned to the ghost to ask a question that had been burning in his mind. "Krupp, what is it like to be dead...if you don't mind me asking that is." "It's...." Krupp's faced screwed up, trying to find the right word, "different. I mean, there's a lot of stuff I wish I could do that I usedtocould do, and there's a lot of stuff I can do now that I wished I could do back when I was alive. Turn invisible, walk through walls. But I can't eat. It's different." Luthor sighed. He had been thinking about the fate of his wife. What was HER death like? The Golden Elves held the belief that they went to a spirit/forest. Once there, they would dance and sing eternally, free of all of life's inhibitions. He was raised to believe that he would go there too, but doubt squirmed at the back of his mind unresting. He was only half Golden Elf. The other half of him was human, so would he to instead to some human after-life to spend eternity with strangers? If so, then might his son, who was 3/4 Golden Elf be in the human death-realm alone? These were the questions that kept Luthor awake in his bed. His faith in Lathander was strong, yet these doubts remained. "Is it common for Halfling spirits to walk Nexus once they die?" "No, I don't think so. Then again, I was murdered." "Yes, but there are many people who are murdered in this city each year. By now, the streets should be crawling with ghosts. What makes your murder different from all the others? None of this makes sense..." "Well, I don't claim to be an expert, but the reason I'm here, and not bound to the alley were I got cacked, is that I managed to eat a lot of energy when the Thing-In-The-Center had its fit. 'Raelf, or ar'Elya know a lot more though." Luthor's face lit up. Perhaps he would finally be able to KNOW that Rachel and Joshua were at the Dance waiting for him to join them in death. He quickened his pace. Krupp fell along in step and the two of them changed direction, heading for the Dragon's Inn. The they passed quickly through the party, dodging pick-pockets, joyous couples, entertainers, and messes on the ground where those who had partied TOO much left their mark. It was slow going since the crowd was thick even though the hour approached midnight. Eventually, they walked down the familiar streets. Even before they could see the inn itself, they were greeted by the well-known sounds of Listener's singing. Standing at the bar was the muscular blond form that was now famous around Generica. 'Raelf seemed to be in the middle of telling a small crowd of partons about his battle against She Who Sleeps In The Shunned Center. Luthor smiled, he had heard the story before, but now 'Raelf had changed it slightly to make it seem as if he had defeated her single- handedly. Krupp stood in front of Luthor, blocking his path to the surfer-mage. "Something is different about 'Raelf. I don't know what it is, but his attitude has changed." Luthor looked down at the detective and smiled, "Krupp, you are just being paranoid. 'Raelf is just letting the story grow in the telling. It seems that even he is not immune to the trappings of an ego...let him be, he has probably been drinking." Luthor's mind was clouded by his need for some answers. They grabbed an emptying table and waited for 'Raelf to finish his story. Luthor was anxious, but didn't want to risk angering the mage by being rude. Once 'Raelf had finished his story, Luthor rushed to his side. "'Raelf, I was wondering if you could help me out..." "Call me Ollex. Now, what do you want?" "Well, I know that you have been around..." "THAT is an understatement, to say the least." 'Raelf's - or Ollex's - nose elevated a few degrees. "How much do you know about death?" "I know her very well. I probably know more about death than anyone living, AND most of the dead. What concern is it of yours?" Luthor noticed 'Raelf's attitude and spoke with caution. If he angered the mage now, he could lose his only chance. "You see, my wife died about a year ago...and my son before her. I was just wondering where they ended up. A woman was here tonight pretending to be my wife. She said that the after-life was a horrible place. She pleaded me to sell my soul so she could be alive again. I guess I just need to KNOW that my wife and son are alright." "You know, of course," the blond mage said, brushing a bit of imaginary lint off his sleeve, "that the only way you'll ever know for sure is if you die, and go to your elven paradise yourself." "I know...I just wanted..." Luthor began. "So you want me to find out for you? Fine." The mage made a gesture, and became slightly transparent. He reached out, faster than a snake striking, and embedded the hand in Luthor's head. The pain was beyond anything Luthor had ever felt, he tried to scream, but something snapped and suddenly he was standing, alongside his body. A dark eyed woman was there, her hand outstretched. She was wearing a long dress of thin black silk. Around her neck hung a large ahnk necklace. "Hello Luthor. It's time to go." "The pain..." "It's over now. You are done with the trials of life. Come with me." ...there was a sound, like the flapping of wings... ----- Luthor opened his eyes. He was lying on the ground, in a clearing of soft grass. The sun was shining brightly, illuminating the forest around him. Remembering the happenings at the inn, he gasped. His hand reflexively flew to his head, where 'Raelf had caused him such agony. There was no pain now. He felt his chest swell with hope and joy. In the distance, he heard gentle musical voices laughing. Their sound was mixed in with the most beautiful music that Luthor had ever heard. It did not come from any instrument, but was instead composed of the notes of nature. Birds sang, the wind wistled, crickets chirped, and all of nature was in harmony. A string of dancers exploded from the woods and into Luthor's grassy clearing. They were a beautiful people. Their golden skin reflected the light of the twilight sun. Their black hair flew about them as they turned. Their blue eyes sparkled with celebration. Their clothes were brightly colored to express their festive mood. Unable to control his excitement any longer, Luthor jumped to his feet, intending to join the dancers. It was then that he noticed the change. He felt the power of youth within him. His hands were strong. His aches had been erased. He wondered what he looked like, and then an instant later, a mirror appeared before him. He looked into it and found the Luthor of old. He had been returned to his prime and then beyond that. His hands flew to his face in reflex. He felt the smooth skin; gone were the wrinkles of the past 75 years and the scars of battle. "We are all beautiful here," toned a sweet voice from behind the mirror. "RACHEL?" he gasped, not daring to hope. "None other than your faithful spouse. I have missed you, my love." She stepped out from behind the mirror and then, after a pause, she rushed into his arms. They embrased tightly for a moment; Luthor noted the smell of winter roses on her skin and in her hair. A moment of silence passed as they held each other, then Luthor stepped back. "Rachel, you look more beautiful than ever...I never thought that would be possible. You are positively gorgeous. I must be in paradise." "Luthor, this IS paradise. Welcome to the Dance Eternal." "Then I'm..." "Yes Luthor, you are dead. Your spirit has ascended to the home of the Golden Ones because this is where you wanted to go. Now, you may spend the rest of forever here, with me." ADMIN: More to come... Love and Peace and Death, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader From: kjc@aramis.rutgers.edu (Kelly J. Cooper) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do ... Keywords: All I wanna do is... Message-ID: Date: 2 Jun 93 03:49:47 GMT [Admin: 1 of 3 in quick succession] "What a dull place the world would be if it was merely as good as our wildest dreams." -Unknown "May the forces of evil become confused on the way to your house." -George Carlin Jameson had drifted away from the Lighthouse and gone walking. She put down her pack and stood, looking at the ocean in the early morning light. With a deep breath, she spontaneously sprung forward and did a cartwheel that she finished with half a kick. Then she scooped up her bag and went swinging down the rocky path toward town, stretching all the muscles she could move. Once in town, she sought out the Corder smithy. Along the way, she noted preparations for a celebration. Decorations being hung across the streets, food sellers churning out goods that were quickly snatched up by local merchants. The crowds were cheerfully frenetic and even busier than usual. She worked her way gently through the thronging townspeople to her destination. Upon arrival, she stood in the dim half-light on the edge of the forge's open wall. She noted a few patches where the building had been repaired. Probably storm damage. Otherwise it looked as sturdy as ever. Both Corder and Kam were busy and fully absorbed in their work. She set her bag down and walked over to Corder, peering around his massive shoulder at his preparations. He was organizing by size several pieces of iron. He broke when he noticed he was being watched and turned his head to direct a heart-stopping glower at her. She smiled serenely and he looked surprised, then laughed heartily and turned fully to sweep her up into his arms. As he laughed and swung her around, Kam flinched and dropped his hammer. Looking at them, his eyes widened and he smiled as well. Once Corder set her down, he put out his hands and solemnly grasped both of hers while Corder pounded her on the back and grinned, "My friend! We have not seen you in a few days. We were rather worried that looters had caught you at a disadvantage." "Not at all, Master Corder. I was transacting a little business and recovering from the storm in relative peace." Jameson returned his smile. Kam opened his mouth, but Corder gestured at the door to the shed, so he bounded over to it and flung open the door. With obvious pride, he wheeled out Jameson's bicycle and posed it before her. Jameson laughed and hugged Kam, gently kissing him on the cheek before bending to inspect the bike. Kam spluttered, flustered, and stepped back as Corder knelt on the other side of the bike intently watching Jameson's expression. "I wasn't expecting it so soon." Jameson was almost breathless, "And I'm sure it was difficult with all the repair work you must have been contracted for, considering the storm's damage. You didn't have to ... I mean, it wasn't necessary for ... You just ..." Corder held up a hand. "You more than paid for this with the information you've given us and your help with our survival of the storm. Dana has asked me to invite you to dinner whenever you can make it and the children pester me about you all the time. Kri and Chas have expressed their solemn and almost inexpressible thanks and Mum says you mustn't be a stranger. And Kam here..." Corder peered up at his Journeyman's worried expression, wondering how far to tease the man and deciding to be kind, "Kam here and I have been fairly concerned. I was worried I'd not get a chance to thank you for ... thank you for ..." He paused, in the rare state of being at a loss for words himself. Jameson smiled brilliantly at him and said softly, "You're welcome, Sir." Then she looked up at the bike before her and said "Can I try it out?" Corder sighed, shook his head and stood. "Of course. It IS yours, after all. Oh, and there's this ..." He pulled a chain off the table, "Put your hand here." He held out a link and Jameson touched it lightly. It tingled briefly and Corder frowned, then nodded his approval. He handed it to her. "You and only you can pull it apart, by concentrating on a particular link. I thought this might be more secure than a pickable lock." Looking at the curious weight in her hands, she gave it an experimental tug, then pulled on a specific link. It gave in her hands. She pushed the ends together and they linked silently. She blinked and smiled up at the towering smith. "You are very kind. You didn't have to ..." "Now girl. Before we get into an argument of 'thank yous' and 'you shouldn't haves' accept it. With my gratitude." He looked at her carefully and smiled slowly. "You have things to do, I think. Come back to us when you have more time. You are always welcome in the Corder household, no matter what the elders may whisper." He added emphatically, "We've raised our children better than that." Jameson nodded silently and dropped her bag into the basked on the front of the bike. Looking at it for a moment, she parted the chain in her hands and locked the bag to the frame of the bike. She swung up on the bike and leaned forward, comfortably, her feet braced on either side. Turning to Corder, she opened her mouth to say too many things. Finally, she managed, "I may not be back. There is something ... there are things happening. Guard yourselves and your family. Against what, I don't know. I wish I did. It's just ..." She trailed off and he nodded in understanding. She looked over at Kam, still in mid-stutter, and rolled the bike forward a few feet. She rested her hand on his shoulder and leaned over to smile up into his bowed face. He looked up and then quickly away. "Take care, Kam, hey?" He nodded as well, looking at the floor, glancing into her eyes for an instant, then flicking his gaze downwards again. Jameson put her hands on the handle bars and leaned on the right pedal. As she rolled out of the shed, he looked after her, a somewhat pained expression on his face. Corder smiled to himself, patted Kam's shoulder, and returned to his place at the bench. Kam looked at his hands in frustration for a few moments, then returned to his own tasks. Jameson pedaled down the street, mostly ignoring the shouts of surprise and the swears she was causing. These people could get used to anything, she was sure, and it wouldn't be long before they ignored her as they did a new adventurer or a strange beastie. Besides, riding made her feel good, and it had been nearly thirty years since she'd last been able to do it. She'd been fond of these contraptions since she saw one in Mother's history files. Throwing her head back, she stuck her feet out and laughed. The crowds parted hurriedly before her and she quickly put her feet back on the pedals and wove deftly around those who couldn't move with such alacrity. * * * Many travellers and townsfolk alike that day watched a brown haired woman riding a contraption about as if it were a horse. Some made holy symbols over their hearts, some cursed and some laughed. A few got some interesting ideas... Kelly J. Cooper kjc@cs.rutgers.edu Feedback appreciated ... MagicHutchHeader From: kjc@aramis.rutgers.edu (Kelly J. Cooper) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] A silence more eloquent Keywords: Words are too solid Message-ID: Date: 2 Jun 93 03:53:26 GMT [Admin: 2 of 3 in quick succession] "Am I really over-analyzing?" -Regis M. Donovan Jameson wove her bicycle through the crowds, wobbling occasionally along the cobblestones, and eventually making it to the Dragon's Inn. There she dismounted and stood indecisive for a moment, before wheeling the bike over to the open door of the stable and signalling a young groom. He ambled over, looking curiously at Jameson and more curiously at her mode of transport. Jameson smiled at him. "Do you have someplace I can lock this? A small stall?" He looked at her speculatively then turned on his heel and walked into the stable, trailing a wave for her to follow. Jameson wheeled herself into the dim light behind him as he walked into a quiet corner of the little place and indicated a pair of iron loops set in the wall. Jameson tugged on each of them; satisfied, she then removed the chain from her bag and wrapped it through the front wheel, frame and one of the loops, and linked it. She scooped up her bag, tipped the boy, reassuring him the bike didn't need feeding, and left to enter the Inn. Within, the chatter seemed to involve a celebration beginning that night, sponsored by Melwis the Wise. Founder's Day? A birthday of sorts. Nodding quietly to herself, Jameson checked with Mary Littlefair, inquiring after mail or messages. Receiving none, she thanked the woman and left the Inn again. Outside, she paused, letting thoughts well up for a moment before catching them with a deep breath. She was feeling on the near side of odd, full of nervous energy. Looking about at the busy crowds, she randomly picked a direction to walk and began doing the only thing that eased her tensions -- exploring all over again this city in the midst of rebuilding. She investigated gutted frames and rebuilds. Some of the new work had obviously been done by craftsmen. The rest was slapdash and held an air of desperation for any sort of cover. Flimsy protection, but it certainly seemed to help the mind shore up defenses. Few streets had been totally re-arranged, especially in the merchant and residential districts. It was difficult to build on the cobblestones. But a number of shacks, little shanty towns, had randomly caused massive re-arrangement in the poorer sections of town, especially where much of the pavement had been stolen for building. Low town never so resembled a maze before the storm. As she kicked through the dust, she suddenly stopped, not necessarily conscious that her toes were on the line of the 'buff, but aware enough that this was not a direction to take today that she turned and wended her way west. As she walked, she thought. About new -- should she call them friends? For some, it took much more bonding than they had had. Others would be offended. She shrugged to herself. Friends. Kardia, tall but not at all imposing. In fact, quite shy with moments of delight shining through the timidity. 'Raelf, ultra-casual but bizarrely intense. Ar'Elya, calm and somewhat distant, but warm. Nescie. Nescie who was so smart, deft at handling complicated problems, but it seemed, so easily baffled but anything complicated in his life. Grumbli, rough and rude to keep himself safe. She liked them. Thinking back farther, she remembered the Lnya scout, Mother Tree, the Slen. She thought briefly about Mazn and flinched mentally before moving on. Hundreds of worlds, hundreds of people. Always a warrior-friend, for peace or battle. Always a fool who saw truth too deeply. Always a leader with kind eyes. Always a dreamer, seeking knowledge. Archetypes, but each so individual, so unique despite the similarities they shared that she remember each clearly, despite time's passage. Time. She remembered Cail's birth and the joy of his clan. Then the signation of the grol-Re, and her own pride. She remembered Elders living and long gone. Even memories of her own apprenticeship surfaced briefly. Images came unbidden to mind. Sunsets, moonrises, mountains, valleys. Flowing water, swirling ichor, oozing acht. Animalia, races of beings, artificial intelligences. Philosophies! Thoughts on present trends, discussions of history and possibilities for the future, considerations of death, birth, soul, conscious thought, reasons for existing, origins, particles of matter, measurable reality, deities, fate, predetermination versus free will, everything and anything. She sometimes wondered if knowing who had created her, and how and why, helped with her peace of mind. She had not been created for a specific purpose -- Mother was curious to see if she could modify the forms and she had an urge to create. All of her notes, equations and biological configurations had been available to Jameson. But what of chance? Or higher purpose? Could something have been guiding her Mother's process of creation? One could look at numbers on a screen, but did one ever really know the source of intelligence and conscious thought? Or is this desire for a reason just part of the ego-need that seems present in all conscious beings? Absently, Jameson's mind noted and logged scale representations of the rearranged geography for mapping updates. Her thoughts continued to wonder ... Do I love? Can I fall in love? Will I know when this happens? I believe I have loved, but am I different? If I can control my hormonal responses and grasp my attractions, can I actively choose to be in a state of loving? Could it possibly be that binary? Or will it more closely resemble a reality storm, where I must bow to forces greater than my mind's? Am I really so much different from others? From humans? All the humans I know have pain. Some is stored, some is hidden, some is caught in a constant state of re-enactment, some is used as a weapon against agression. Much is denied. As I deny. But I accept that I deny, and allow my mind to sort and heal until it eventually chooses to deal. Does this nullify the denial? Jameson paused. She was at the head of the Arcade of Fountains. The dancing water laughed at her circular thinking and constant questions. <> they said softly to her. She moved forward, not noticing where she stepped. <>stagnation<< but there is life Life>> The sound of water was gone for Jameson. It resolved to this, which was speaking, but not words. If language were liquid... <> Jameson didn't consciously register she was standing in the first fountain's water, head cocked to one side as she listened intently. <>direction<< but do not change that we flow Walls stop flow Make notflow But cannot stop flow It is always It is flow You flow >>whirlpool<< pond ocean stream You change But you flow>> The language of water was not one that Jameson thought she knew. And as she stood there, continuing to listen, all she heard was the sound of water rushing. Flowing. Perhaps laughing at her. She wondered if the magic in the fountains made them more understandable or if her mind had simply made up a different voice to tell her things she already knew. She looked down where she's stepped into the water, watching it chase around her calves, bubbling, and she smiled. Flow in humans is being. It is hope. She stopped. Hope. She shaped the word with her mouth, tasted it, repeated it to herself quietly, said it over and over in her mind until its meaning blurred. Time felt faintly off kilter. Abruptly she looked up at a sudden absence of sound. The fountain had stopped. She looked down the Arcade. All the fountains had stopped. Breathless, she counted mentally... one... two... three... and suddenly they started again. Water danced in the air, clear and full of magic. Jameson scratched her head and wished that whomever was trying to communicate with her would just drop her a note or something... Dear Jameson, Please save the world. Thanks, God Grinning at the thought, she leaned over and splashed some water on her face. She straightened and stepped out of the fountain to shake herself like a brakka with wet paws, then started walking toward the down the road, mentally rechecking the distances between the fountains to make sure her maps were correct. Sometimes, she simply thought too much. And didn't flow enough. Smiling, she felt something tight within her relax a bit and she felt better. But somewhere inside of her, she was still chafing at the level of inaction she seemed to have attained. She was waiting. I am not a hero, her mind echoed, I am not a saviour, I am a watcher and a meddler, little more. She sighed. The thought continued itself... but now I am also a pawn. Kelly J. Cooper kjc@cs.rutgers.edu Feedback appreciated ... MagicHutchHeader From: kjc@aramis.rutgers.edu (Kelly J. Cooper) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Somewhere out of context Keywords: I won't use words again Message-ID: Date: 2 Jun 93 03:54:52 GMT [Admin: 3 of 3 in quick succession] "The Gods send thread for the web begun." - Leif Smith Jameson sat, her chair leaned back, her legs on the table, and slowly sipped something cold. It was early afternoon at the Inn and the Lunch crowd was just fading, most of them walking carefully, nursing the effects of post-large-party-hangovers. There was a faint sensation of being watched, then a quiet voice. "Jameson?" "Hello?" she said both vocally and mentally to no one in particular. The table to her right looked at her curiously, then returned to their discussion of charmed weapons. The voice strengthened to a conversational level. "Hi, Jaime. It's Nescie." "Nescie!" She smiled, and stayed with the mental voice, "It's been a while. How are things at the Guild?" "Well... I really shouldn't say over the link. There's no telling who might be able to listen in. But I'm doing okay, I think." His voice sounded a little strained to her. "Are you free for dinner tonight?" Jameson looked around the empty table where she sat and smiled a private smile, "Yes, I think so." "Great! I'll come find you later then, all right?" "Cool. Um, Nescie? Could you check the sigil? It picked up some kind of backlash from the Guild a few days ago, and I think it knocked me out. At least, that's what they tell me." "It did? Um. I'll look into it right away, and let you know what I find out. See you in a bit." "Bye." And the sense of presence was gone. Jameson sat up, finished her juice and stood slowly. Looking at everything and nothing, she approached the bar, set down her glass, turned and walked out of the Inn. Time to take a stroll. Somewhere within, her eternally churning mind was coming up for new specs for new spects while her conscious thoughts contemplated the slight panic attack she was experiencing. Time to do more walking, perhaps. She pulled some thread from her pocket, where she'd tangled it around her fingers, fiddling. She looked at the cross-cuts and listened to the sound of a cresting wave of something, about to break across her mind. * * * Nescie uncurled himself from his cross-legged position, yawning and stretching. His muscles felt stiff. He had no idea why he had taken up meditation. He didn't seem to get anything out of it -- no insights, no memories, nothing. Nothing at all. Peculiar pastime. Peculiar times. He crossed over to his washbasin and splashed some water on his face. He paused, examining his reflection more carefully. It looked to him exactly as if someone had sewn an irregular grid of thin black threads just underneath his skin. He touched them gingerly, feeling nothing out of the ordinary. He rubbed his eyes and looked again. They were gone. He blamed it on his overstressed, hyperactive imagination and promptly forgot all about it. There _was_ something he was supposed to remember, though. Dinner. Dinner with Jameson. He smiled to himself, checking his time-spell, and got a rude shock. By Bog -- where had the afternoon gone? It looked like he would have just enough time to prepare. Nescie hastily shrugged out of his mage's robes and took a quick shower, trying to decide what to wear. He considered changing into something more formal but discarded that idea quickly, realizing that Jameson probably wouldn't have much more than she could carry. She'd be lucky if she had more than what she was wearing. So instead, something more casual would be in order; if she wanted something formal, he could always conjure it up for them on the spot. Nescie finished his shower and dried himself. He spun his closet of attire through three and a half revolutions, opened it, and selected a plain tunic, with pants to match. He put on the new clothes, and made an effort to tame his unruly hair. When he was done, he didn't look much like an Archmage -- more like a young apprentice, or perhaps even a farmer's son. Now where would she be? He expanded his awareness along the link to seek her out, then took himself to her with a sweep of his hand. * * * Jameson was just approaching the Inn when everything began moving slowly. She felt as if she were watching herself in a show, playing out a scene. Except someone wielding a remote control had slowed everything down for a frame by frame analysis. A semi-familiar voice was calling her name again, distorted by the creeping pace of time, but no one else seemed to pay it any attention. She turned as everything slowed further. Even her thoughts moved languidly. There was a man moving towards her. His face matched an old faded image in her head -- an image that had been replaced by the comfortable features of a much older man. Her brain did a slow bit of rubber-banding while she hoped, somewhat dispassionately, that she wasn't reliving the past again. No, the context was all wrong, it was still current. She was still in Generica, still in Nexus. No layering of reality. Yet. Then a blankness slipped across the other's eyes and his face froze in a mask. Sluggish and unwilling time came to a grinding halt as she stared into these eyes. She could feel the slow constriction, the cutting pattern all over her body again. Again? The being stood in a twisted perspective that made him look gigantic, bigger than any human should be; he towered over the crowd and buildings. There was a sketch of black and white lines that outlined his entire body and flapped and fluttered like streamers in a whirlwind, and they were reaching out, reaching for her, reaching for... The thought came into her mind that it might be a good idea to say something, to let someone else know what was going on, but she couldn't move. She wasn't breathing. Her heart wasn't beating. She was ... dead? Time suddenly snapped back to normal without a sound and the vision was gone, having lasted less than an instant. Everything was normal again, the sound of her heartbeat and breathing echoing in her ears. She paused, blinked, then smiled and held out her hand to him. "Nescie. You've changed your hair?" He laughed and took her hand in both of his, and it seemed as if a wall sprang up around them that cut them off from the noises of the crowd around them. "Oh, considerably more than that -- just about everything, actually. I'm a man of twenty-some years again." Then his face grew somber. He shook his head, and sighed. "I have to tell someone about it, and you're the only one I can really talk to, Jaime. It's a real mess at the Guild." Jameson was aware of the outside world blurring as they moved to ... someplace else. They were now standing near a rather classy establishment, complete with doorman in braid and epaulets. Jameson couldn't quite see the name from where they were talking. Nescie continued without noticing that anything had changed. "Delalle, the Supreme Archmage, came back and told us what he was up to, but now he's dead, and we don't know how it happened -- he just disappeared. Urcohea, who'd normally be in charge and investigating Delalle's death, is under suspicion of trying to influence the Archmagi Council. He still has his position as Archmage of Internal Security, but he's watched at all times, and everything he does has to be approved by a second Archmage. So Dasham's in charge, because she has seniority. I think she's using it to get her pet projects more resources, but she has to hold an official election sometime soon, and I don't know what will happen then. "And, on top of it all... Jaime, it's not safe in Nexus. There's something called a Reaverschild, something with the power to make and unmake _gods_. It wants to kill _everything_, and it's loose somewhere around here. That storm that hit us so hard, so recently, was the creation of one of its minions. And I think it killed Delalle; he was researching it, and it's just too much of a coincidence for him to die right now. I'm worried, Jaime. Really worried." Jameson looked at him, the faintest hint of a smile at the corners of her lips and said softly, "Dead, did you say? Yes. Yes, you did. Dead. Hmm." Comments, compliments, and complaints can be conveyed to: Bernie Hsiung (bshsiung@eecs.umich.edu) and Kelly J. Cooper kjc@cs.rutgers.edu [Admin: I know the Party is still going on for some, but is the actual "Party" a multi-day affair? Or was it supposed to be a one-nighter? Thanks. -kjc] MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [ADMIN] Re: Be there dragons? Message-ID: References: <19930527174342.scott.klement@sklement.AtlantaGA.NCR.COM> Date: Thu, 3 Jun 1993 23:55:00 GMT scott.klement@AtlantaGA.NCR.COM (Scott Klement) writes: >Where have all the dragons gone? Some of us are still here. Others seem to be on vacation. Still others seem to be so busy with finals, etc. that they are muted. But yes, I was wondering myself, yesterday, where is everyone... Maybe they're all sleeping off the hangovers from after the Party? MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] [GATM] [BDAY] Luthor's Exit (Part ii) Message-ID: References: <93152.092549ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Date: Fri, 4 Jun 1993 00:53:51 GMT What Has Gone Before: Depressed by the anniversary of his wife's death, Luthor, the ShadowMaker, goes to the dragon's inn to find 'Raelf the mage and hopefully some answers. Ollex, who is basically 'Raelf's evil twin, decides to help Luthor out by sending him to the Elven Paradise...in other words, he kills Luthor. The mage smiled, a superior, satisfied smirk, and pulled his hand free. Luthor's body did not fall. Instead, it lost all color, fading to the dead white of marble, transformed to stone where it stood. "What the hell did you do that for," Krupp demanded. "I needed a statue for the front gate. Besides, he wanted to know." He pulled his shrunken staff from behind his ear, and enlarged it to wand sized. <> he said, rapping the statue with the wand. The statue shrank to the size of a chesspiece, and he stuffed it carelessly into a pocket. He turned and started walking towards the door. Krupp dodged around (and through) a couple of the Rabble in order to beat him out to the street. He suspected... Yep. There he was, still sitting in the same table, but he'd been joined by a white-skinned Drow with an interesting curse and the depressing priest who had been rude enough to tell him that he was dead. He was going to say something, but he hadn't figured out just what, when he felt a hand on his shoulder, pushing him aside. Ollex sat down at the table where he had been going to sit. "So before the little gumshoe unloads his tattletale heart," he began, but Father Lucas interrupted: "Look, it's depressing enough that you have to be here, all wound in and out through time and space in the most undignified sprawl, but could you please not talk to yourself out loud?" Ollex gave him a stare down the nose that would have made Lifilis Kloote feel inferior. "No. Live with it, Eeyore." "Well, how rude. Really, I don't know why I bother." Ollex smiled insincerely. "Neither do we, dear boy. Now as I was saying before the cosmic rules lawyer tried to put in his two cents' worth, and before Krupp here could tell you the ignorant persons' version: I just had a conversation with Luthor Anside, who was going on moping about his wife and kid who died, la-de-da, a little over a year back. Since I knew he was not going to believe anything I told him about their sweet little afterlife, such as it is, I sent him on to see for himself." ...sage stared, appalled. Ollex favored him with a cold sort of gaze. "You really ought to do something about that curse, ...sage, it isn't wise to let Lolth leave her fingerprints on your eyeballs for so long." ...sage began to speak but before he could say anything, 'Raelf stood up and interposed himself. Behind him, ...sage began a series of gestures, preparing a spell. "You `sent him ON?'" 'Raelf hissed. Ollex sighed, bored and irritated at the same time. "I told you," he said with mock patience, "He Wanted To Know That His Wife And Son Were All Happy-happy In Their Cute Little Elven Paradise. So I killed him, so he could go there, himself, all right? Are you _sure_ we're related, you seem rather dim for someone who claims to be my forebear." Lucas sighed wearily. "Oh, you're both related, all right. All either of you does is drone on endlessly, and I might add, in very unoriginal fashion. I suppose now you're going to do something tedious to one another, probably something messy and disgusting. Well, at least it won't be just another one of those boring swordfights." He subsided, watching them apathetically. Finally, he grew tired of the silence, and roused himself enough to speak again. "Go ahead, we're waiting." "You know," 'Raelf said, "I don't know which of you is more of a downer." "Oh, definitely him," Ollex replied. "I'm much more personable, and clearly more loveable." "So what was loveable about killing Luthor?" "Oh come now, he was just >uirgk!<" Ollex struggled on the end of a giant arm - he tried to wriggle around to a counterattack, or to shift to one of his elemental components, but there was a numbness in the way, a hard impenetrable slickness that he couldn't get past. The arm was joined by another, locking his arms against his sides, and two more that fastened to his legs, holding them in a numbing grip. 'Raelf standing before him reached up into Ollex' hair and pulled the staff from behind his ear, returning it to wand sized. He reached in his own pocket and pulled out a chess-piece sized statue, a figure in miniature of Luthor Anside. Ollex' eyes grew wide at the sight. "So you see you've got no choice, then?" 'Raelf smiled. Ollex was held in the immobilizing stone grip of a twelve foot tall stone golem, each of its four arms pinning him in such a way as to prevent his moving at all. "I'm not going to permit you to remain as a Reaver's mockery of myself. ...sage, please turn up the gain on the blocking spell, if you would? He's about to try for a power tap." 'Raelf put the figurine on the ground and touched it with the wand: <> and it grew into the full-sized image of Luthor, graven in marble. "This is bloody awful," he said to himself. "Well, it's pretty completely ruined. Why'd you have to scramble it up?" He thought for a moment, then smiled to himself. "Ollex, don't even try to plane shift out of there," and a moan of pain came from his trapped doppleganger, "Told ya. Now if you don't quit it, we'll get Lucas started telling you all about his sex life." Ollex blanched, or would have if he weren't purple in the face from the grip that kept him from speaking. <> 'Raelf whispered, and then spoke. <> The steam from a manhole just outside the inn began coming up in a thick stream. A few moments later, a man sized cloud hung there, unaffected by the whim of the night's breeze. From its midst, a man in a swirling GREY cloak stepped as if he had been in there all along. He was a young human with long blond hair and eyes like a coming storm. He entered the inn. As he walked through the crowd, they parted for him unconsciously. "You called me?" "Yeah. We need you to help with some Shadow working." "Oh? What's with the statue of Luthor?" he asked admiring the workmanship. "It's not a statue." "I see." Erik's face blanched. "Ah, I really hate to tell you this 'Raelf, but I have no influence over Earth. I'm an Air specialist...Earth is beyond my abilities." "It's not like that. I can change him back myself." "Then what do you need me for?" "The person who changed Luthor to stone, did a very thorough job of it. The body retains no magical patterning for reverting it to flesh. But there are some physical traces and chemical differences I could use to map out the organs and stuff. I'd have to use that as a template for building him a body out of this mess, and I need some luck making it work right." "Ah. Good. Pure luck or luck with magic is no problem." "Great. I need to start very soon." "Will he come to once you've changed him back?" "No, the body will be alive, but his spirit is in the Elven places. Someone has gone for him though. If he's willing to return, he'll be back soon enough." "I see. Well, when you're ready." Their preparations were interrupted by the sound of breaking plates from the Inn's kitchen followed by a woman's scream. Moments later, Serene emerged and ran to Erik's side. In her hand was a wilted blue rose. "Serene, what's the matter?" Erik asked putting his arms around her and blocking her view of the Luthor/statue. When she calmed down enough to speak, she showed him the rose. "Luthor's dead. He gave me this rose and said that it would die when he did. LOOK AT IT!" Erik held her close and then stepped away from the statue. Serene's eyes went wide in horror. "Serene, don't worry. 'Raelf and I are working on a way to bring him back to us, right 'Raelf?" "Yep. No problem." "Then we'd better get started." 'Raelf nodded, and went over to the statue. He went transparent, and stepped _into_ it, overlapping a bit, then the stone of the statue began to flicker, then move, the face twisting into a rictus of pain. "'RAELF'S MAGIC COULD WORK," Erik said with the strange echoing sound of ShadowMagic. He twisted the laws of probability with the force of his will, but whoever had changed Luthor had been an expert. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead as he continued to push against the improbable, knocking it into the realm of the possible. The statue vanished in a flicker of flame, then appeared again, but the cold white was washed with color, that gradually became the gold tone of Luthor's skin. There was a gasping intake of breath, and 'Raelf's voice came out: "He's not here yet. The body is alive but the insides aren't quite right, he wouldn't live long. I'm going to have to do some rework but I can't until Luthor gets here. I can keep it alive for a few more minutes." He staggered over to Erik and leaned on him for support. "What's the matter?" Erik asked, helping him to sit at a table. "The templates are wrong for this plane, he's not from Nexus and I don't have the pattern for his world. The elf part is easy, elves are (ow - breathe, dammit) elves have magical metabolism, their spirit provides the punch that keeps them going, but there's also some human in here (breathe, c'mon, heart, keep going)..." He knelt on the ground, pulling the BLACK cloak around him, and began a regular, slow breathing exercise. Erik watched for a moment, then made a silent prayer to Lathander, god of new beginnings. In the grasp of the stone golem, Ollex tried again to break free of the prisoning grasp, or at least to get loose of ...sage's magical hold so he could do something, but just as he started to figure out the key to the locking spell, he saw Krupp standing on the table looking at him with a steady, hostile gaze. "What's with the ugly shades he's wearin'?" The golem didn't answer. Krupp gave a second look at the marble statue - yeah, it was 'Raelf again, but he was working pretty hard to keep his ugly twin from getting loose. Krupp decided to help, especially since the waves of outrage coming off of this Ollex geek were making him kind of hungry. He locked in the stare, and started to pour it on, and Ollex began shaking, and making lots of tasty satisfying fear. Served him right, cacking Luthor the way he did. Erik knelt next to Luthor's body. "'Raelf, can you still hear me?" "Yeah, man, just busy stayin' alive." "What's wrong with Luthor having human blood?" "Mitochondria. Was his human parent the mother or father?" "Why does it matter?" "How much biology do you know?" "Enough. I've heard of mitochondria but I don't recall what they do." "They act like furnaces, provide energy to the cells. They're always inherited from the mother, in humans, but in elves, they come from both parents. The body doesn't have any working mitochondria. I'm making do for now with Fire magic, but that's a makeshift. I need the pattern for the mitochondria from his homeworld. Otherwise we'll have to come up with a new body when he gets here." "Would this help?" Serene held out the blue rose. Like all roses, it had thorns, and on one of them, a drop of blood had dried when Luthor bound the rose to his life-force. "Let me try it. Would be lucky if ... yeah." Luthor's body held out a hand, and touched the rose. It vanished in a flicker of colors, startling Serene. "Domo arigato, Fog babe. I think I can fix most of the problem now." A flickering vortex formed around Luthor's body for a moment, and then it stopped. It stood up, and 'Raelf said from inside, "Radical. Now all we need is the second virtue, and ... here we go." ----- Luthor and Rachel sat under a tree watching the dancers and enjoying the pleasantness of the cool evening. When the light from the sunset had gone, the sky was filled with brilliant sheets of light, the Aurora. "Rachel, where is Joshua? I thought he would be with you." "He isn't here. They sent him back." "Who are 'they'?" "The Fates. They decided that Joshua should have a chance to live a full life. They said that he never had a chance to exercise his free will. So they sent him back." "Where is he now?" Rachel moved her hand in a small circle in the air. A clouded disk formed. It cleared and showed a one year old boy. He was sleeping in a playpen clutching a stuffed dragon and sucking his thumb. "I've seen those dragons before. I've seen them in Generica." "Yes." "Then Joshua is in Generica?" "The Fates have decided to allow you the chance to know your son. Some day, you two were destined to cross paths." Rachel pulled the hair from her face and smiled knowingly. "How can that be? I'm dead." Luthor looked confused by this strange turn of events. "True, you are dead, but you have quite a few friends back there. Even now they are struggling to bring you back." "Then I have to leave you again." "No Luthor. You don't HAVE to do anything. The Fates always prepare many paths for each person to take. As always, you have a choice. You can stay if you wish, or you can go. The choice is yours." A light, no brighter than any found in this Paradise, separated from the Aurora, and with sudden speed, descended beside them. The figure within was humanoid, and shone as if made of purest polished silver, reflective and glowing with a wreath of light. To the eyes of the Dead it was no mystery that she was an emissary of Hope. <> The couple stood. Luthor looked deep into Rachel's blue-beyond-blue eyes. "Will you wait for me?" "If it takes eternity. I'll be waiting and watching." Luthor bowed gracefully to her, "Until that day M'Lady. May your days be full of song and your soul full of laughter...I love you Rachel." "Good bye for now Luthor. I love you too." Luthor turned and lept into the arms of the light/being. As the Elven Paradise faded from view, he thought he saw Rachel's face fill with fear. "Luthor! Beware the Shape-Shifter!" she called after him, and then she was gone. ----- The crowd around the Dragons' Inn was mostly gone home, and in the tented area just outside the entrance, Luthor's body stood, and staggered out into the open street. A bright light appeared, directly overhead, and shot down to earth next to them. It contained a humanoid, silver and with wings, but the features weren't visible in the sheath of light that wrapped it. The wings opened, and Luthor came out, ghostly but otherwise looking well enough. The silver figure moved away to where the Golem held Ollex prisoner. A flash of light filled the common square, and the silver figure vanished. Erik returned his gaze to Luthor's body only to find a flickering vortex of elemental confusion. -- Sandy beach. Warm sunlight. Tropical island, but the trees have been torn down, the pleasant cool jungle of tropical plants shredded by a storm of incredible force. The wind is blowing, hard. Luthor is standing on a rock, naked, but the wind isn't really cold; it reminds him of the times when he was much younger playing in the sands back home. On the beach below, a gold-furred catman of some unknown species is sculpting a statue from the sand. Luthor looks down. The statue is himself. It's not a perfect likeness; some of the scars and relics of old injuries are gone, and the face has fewer wrinkles. <> <<'Raelf? Didn't you just kill me? I'm confused...>> <> <> <> <> <> The catman brushed the excess sand off the top and placed the BLACK cloak around the shoulders of the statue, and placed a blue rose in its hand. << All done. Get in. >> Luthor felt himself falling into the sand sculpture, and his eyes opened. -- The vortex spun into two, then coalesced into Luthor-wearing-BLACK-cloak and Luthor-not-wearing-cloak. The uncloaked version flickered and 'Raelf stood in its place. "Sorry about that business earlier. I wasn't myself. Now I need to go make sure I'll really BE myself." Luthor just stared after him and nodded numbly. Erik and Serene helped him into a table. Luthor told them all he could about what happened, which wasn't much considering that he did not remember anything about the Elven Paradise, somehow, he knew that Rachel and Joshua were alright. Luthor was at peace. 'Raelf walked over to where the stone statue held the unconscious form of Ollex, with Krupp watching warily for any signs of movement. "OK, now where was I. Oh yes," 'Raelf said, an edge of fatigue in his voice. "I was about to fix old know-it-all here. Now that the Warrior has washed the gunk from his mind. This is going to hurt a LOT. Maybe as much as I hurt Luthor when he died. OK, let him wake up." The golem nodded silently. Its hand shifted on the neck, allowing the blood to flow again, and Ollex stirred. He moaned pitifully. 'Raelf gestured to ...sage, who cut back on the blocking-spell. "Cut the crap," 'Raelf said pleasantly. "No malingering." Ollex opened his eyes. "So do I really have to do this?" "You do it or I will do it to you." "Right. Give feedback then." Ollex began to thrash in the statue's grip and flickering with washes of elemental flux, and with each flicker, some _thing_ fell to the ground between them: a pair of black sunglasses, with three inch nails facing inwards. A scream came from somewhere around them. Flicker: a black book with black pages filled with letters scribbled in with an ink made of starless night. A moan of agony, followed by a rasping cough. Flicker: A single earring stud, holding a diamond that absorbed the light that shone on it. A whimper like a dying puppy. "There's one more. Go for it. Remember, no gain." Flicker: a blackened, forked tongue, ripped out by the roots, venom dripping from the ends. An inarticulate gurgle. 'Raelf pulled his focus from its place behind his ear, and snapped it to full staff-size. He whispered a phrase in a tonal language: "Fighting the Reaver's Child." A bell tolled: Ding-ding, dong, dong. Ding-ding, dong, dong. "Tui. Lake upon Lake. Joyous. After ridding himself of his mistakes a man has joy." He smiled, and water washed around the blackened icons, and they changed under the stream emanating from the staff. The glasses became shiny, a silver reflective surface, the nails melted away. The book changed, the writing washed out, the pages unmarked again; a white chalky dust washed off and the pages were sheets of some crystalline substance, holding in them images of other places. The earring dissolved completely, like a lump of particularly old sugar. Finally, the tongue, black blood and venom washing off it, reverting to a more human shape. "Part one, all done." He nodded to the golem, which released its burden. The person who had called himself "Ollex" shuddered on the ground for a second, before standing. He nodded to 'Raelf, and changed, becoming a double of the Golem, and then vanished. The Golem collapsed in on itself, and 'Raelf was standing there. He knelt, and picked up the sunglasses, the book, and the severed tongue, and placed the latter in his own mouth where it attached itself to the truncated stump within. He grinned wryly. "Part Two," 'Raelf said to his restored self. Again, bells tolled. Ding-ding, dong, ding-ding; dong, dong, dong. "Hsu. Waiting, taking nourishment." "I knew that already." "Just get going. You've got a lot of Porter to drink." "Fer shure. See ya earlier, Krupp." He vanished. [ADMIN: this links into the GATM thread] EPILOGUE: Krupp looked over at Luthor, who was alive and depressed, then dead and a statue, then a statue and a spirit, and was now alive and not depressed. The he looked at 'Raelf, who was Ollex and a golem for a while. Thinking about it made his head hurt. A six inch tall imp, appeared in pop of air on his shoulder. "So, how was your day, boss?" "Confusing. I'd say I need a drink, but I don't think it'll help. Mages make my head hurt." "Could be worse, boss." "I can't imagine how." "Could be gods." Krupp grinned. "Good thing we don't have to worry about those." ELSEWHERE: Two figures sat at table. Between them lay an infinate board. "Your move," said Destiny, eyeing the board in from him. Death smiled, a smile few see, and never more than once. She pulled the top card from the deck. "The Nemesis, damn your luck." cursed Destiny. He watched as Death moved forward the Red Queen, putting his Battleship in jepordy. Destiny sighed, and rolled a handful of dice. "Bingo!" He laid his cards face down. "The Discordian Society takes control of the Cattle Mutilators." He leaned back in his chair, and smirked. "And that means I get a free spin." Destiny reached into a bag of tiles. "Gotcha, this time. F-A-R-A-W-A-Y. And that's on a double word score...." -- CREDITS: Steve Hutchison (hutch@ibeam.intel.com) Love and Peace and Planting Vineyards, The Dreamer Rick Jones albert@bcm.tmc.edu "In his house at R'lyeh, dead Barney waits dreaming!" Systems Support Center -talk.bizarre Voice: 713-798-7352 MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Bulletin Board Date: 4 Jun 1993 06:39:51 GMT Message-ID: <1umqnn$lvd@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: Bulletin, board, admin -=- Dragon's Inn Bulletin Board -=- week ending 4-June-93 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NEW THIS WEEK: none -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OTHER ACTIVE POSTS: Posted by: Imports, Exports, and Arms (Jeremy Nelson, gujn@uniwa.edu.au) Content: WE apologize for any time distortions in the local area, however, due to testing of a device (Henceforward known as 'The Thing'), the local timestream has become dislocated. There is no danger, however some people may undergo slight disorientation. Some people may apparently find themselves in multiple locations at one time. We assure customers that this is not dangerous, and all time lines are in fact continuous, and will straighten themselves out in time. We recommend leaving early for any important appointments. Normal service will be restored tomorrow, yesterday, in three weeks' time, and in three hundred and thirty years. All complaints should be forwarded to: Imports, Exports, and Arms. We thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Moriarty (Aaron Humphrey, aaron@space.ualberta.ca) Content: |-------------------------------| | Moriarty Investigations, Inc. | | | | Magic and muscle at your | | service! No problem too large | | or small! Reasonable rates! | | | | 15A-Gamma Cor Caroli Lane | | Just off the Arcade of | | Unforgotten Heroes! | |-------------------------------| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Trawm (The Dreamer, asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Content: Attention all Real Men: If you is reading this then you is in the rong bar. Come to the Spitting Cobra were you can have a good time at a good prise. FITING ENKOURAGED. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Malthus Dela Noeuze (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Content: **************************************** ** Perfumerie Grand Veneur ** ** Is Seeking a Person To ** ** Find and Bring Back a Great ** ** Blooddrinker or Souleater ** ** For Perfumeric Substances ** ** All Contacts Considered ** ** ** ** Master Perfumerist Malthus ** ** Dela Noeuze ** **************************************** SPECIAL STATUS: Posted by: Zenith (Mike Bavister, mrhyde@netcom.com Content: ANNOUNCING THE A.P.D-I ARCHIVES I have been carefully recording all that has transpired here at the Inn and in Generica. I estimate that my archives are missing less than 1 in 100. The archives contain over 4600 chapters (articles) in 20 huge volumes (MB). Currently the archives are only indexed by Subject (Subject line), but my trusty scribes are hard at work attempting to compile a keyword-index by name, place, and "thread". Alas, this task may take a while. There are two methods by which you, the citizens of Generica, can access the archives (and their indexes). Via the Post-Office or by Magic. Via Mail: Send mail to the address below, with your request in the body of the message. I will then search the index(es) for you, and either mail you the matching "chapters" or a list of matches (if there are too many "hits"). Until the keyword index is compiled, I will be very reluctant to search the actual archives for your requests. TO: mrhyde@netcom.com. EXAMPLE: Dear Zenith, Please search your archives for all occurance of "Lancos" or "Zebron". Thanks. Via Magic: I have set aside a portion of my personal library for the Indexes and other materials of interest. If you know the powerful "FTP" spell, you can access the indexes directly. The arcane formula is listed below. This archive is "read-only", you may retrieve anything you like from it, but you can't place anything there. If there is something you'd like placed there for the benefit of all Generican citizens, let me know via mail. Do not forget to use "binary mode" for all not in ".txt" format. The FTP library currently contains: Subject indexes (no.1-no.3999) The Directory of Generica (latest edition) JourneyGarb flyer/catalog APDI FAQs (full and mini) And coming soon: The DragonQuest Saga *note* All ".zip" files are compressed using the latest state-of-the-art compression magic. Older uncompression magic may not work (use "zip19" or "pkzip2.04"). If you have any difficulty with either the transfer of files or decompression, please let me know. ftp netcom.com(192.100.81.100) login: anonymous password: (your e-mail address) cd /pub/mrhyde/APDI Cheers and happy reading ____ / __ __ o _|_ | / |__| | | | | |__ /___ |__ | | | |_/ | | Head Librarian of the Great Library of Generica -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- REMOVED THIS WEEK : none _________________________________________________________________________ ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kring@physik.uni-kl.de (Thomas Kettenring) Subject: [BDAY] Bakr Is Tempted Too Message-ID: <1993Jun4.125115.12093@rhrk.uni-kl.de> Date: Fri, 4 Jun 1993 12:51:15 GMT Bakr rushed out of the inn and disappeared into a side alley, and from there into the next. It was night, but there were bright lights in the sky making noise. He wasn't sure if it was dangerous, but it was pretty... That had been an embarrassing situation! He repeated his vow to tell a *true* story, but he'd wait until it was safer in the inn, or tell it elsewhere. He followed the alley for a while, then turned to Dragons Lane, where he had seen crowds of people when he left the inn. The crowds were still there, and most of the people were looking up and admiring the lights. "It doesn't seem to be dangerous," he thought. Bakr strolled through the crowd and looked out for acquaintances. Over there was a priest who seemed familiar, walking along with an elf not less familiar - he must have seen them long ago in the Inn. There were musicians and jugglers, clowns and acrobats, and most of the people seemed to have fun. One of the jugglers, clad in red all over, had two sticks in his hands, connected by a string on which a whistling wooden reel was dancing. It jumped and bounced, rotated around the juggler's limbs, flew high in the air and landed always on the string. Bakr hadn't seen such a thing before, and he watched it in fascination when the juggler suddenly spoke to him, "It looks as if it could any moment fall, but the danger is smaller than one thinks, 'cause it rotates." The man smiled at him. "I have it under control. That's what you would like too, right?" Bakr gave him a questioning look, and he continued: "When you are sitting in a pub, you want to go adventuring. When you are adventuring, you want to sit in a pub. You like the danger, but you don't like the dangerous part of it. Killing a dragon? Wow, of course I'll go! There is a dragon coming? Waaaa! Can I hide here?" He swung the reel around him in a graceful curve. The mage froze. That man knew him better than he himself did. And he knew of the Dragon of Eraton, and of the incident with the Blue Dragon at the Gate to Luthor's home plane. "How do you know that?" "That's not all. I can help you too. How would you like it if you could go adventuring without having to fear death? Everything looking interesting and dangerous but the actual danger being small, like with this diabolo?" He looked at the reel flying over his head. Something was wrong here. "Who are you?" "I am someone who can help you. Isn't that enough?" The diabolo circled around his leg. "See? Nothing can happen to it. I can control it, and if you want you can control your life." Bakr concentrated on the whistling thing, and it started to wobble and fell to the ground. An instant later it was back on the string, hopping merrily. The juggler seemed to be a magic-user too, and not a bad one. "See? As before," the juggler said. "You killed it, and it survived." Bakr gulped. "I don't want to be an undead." "That's not exactly what I want to propose. You would be normal in every respect save one: death." "Who are you?" "I'm from another plane, like you. We two should stick together." The diabolo rolled along on the string, then balanced on one of the sticks, then hopped back on the string. "What plane?" "Are names so important, Bakr ibn Ja'far ibn Musa al Mekneshi?" The mage's face was darkened by suspicion. "Are you a demon?" "What an ugly word, just because I have horns in my true form! Remember, you had horns once too. And you fought on the side of demons." "The other way around! They came to help us! It was not our choice!" "And now again a demon comes to help you. It's your choice this time." "My answer is no! I don't trust demons." "You trust gnomes, and elves, and dwarves, and even goblins. Why not demons?" Bakr was silent. "We are not as bad as people think. Exactly like Gullbong the goblin." "That was a special case." "Come on! You are more narrow-minded now than you were before." The mage tried to think but it was getting more and more difficult. It looked like the demon had a point, but there must be a flaw in the reasoning. "Hey you! This is for you." Bakr turned around and saw that a half-ogre was standing there holding a piece of paper and grinning in a particular stupid way. On the paper was a picture of Bakr. Slowly the fat mage shook his head while looking the half-ogre in the eye with a very serious expression. He looked at the demon again, then at the half-ogre. Then he waved his arms and shouted, "What comes next?! Perfect strangers know everything about me, others have pictures of me! Hey you!" He called a merchant passing by. "Would you please go into that inn over there and tell the story of my life? I have other things to do now!" The merchant gave him a quick stare, then hurried on. Bakr turned to the juggler. "No, I am not interested! And that's my last word!" The demon turned around and left, which surprised Bakr immensely. Though he wouldn't have understood the simile, he felt like someone a telemarketer has hung up on after half a minute. It was clearly visible that the half-ogre tried to use his brain to make sense of the scene. His brows were even closer to his nose than normal, the pupils were wandering, and his mouth was open. Now Bakr noticed that a female gnome was standing beside him, and he understood. "Are you - Spach?" The gnome was a bit surprised. "So you met Kloote?" "A few minutes ago, in the Dragons Inn. He didn't expect you back so soon." Spach smiled evilly. "Let's go there." "Uh - could I just have the picture? I want to visit someone." The half-ogre gave Bakr the piece of paper, and the two humanoids departed. 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cursor with "xsetroot -cursor bakr.xbm bakr.mask" (after either making the mask file yourself with bitmap or mailing me for it), or convert it into an ASCII file with "bmtoa bakr.xbm >> bakr.asc". If not, sorry for the bandwidth, it won't happen again except lots of people want the mask file. He folded it and put it in his burnoose. "Now I'll look for Luthor, say goodbye, then go back to the inn, tell a story, and go home..." He asked someone for the way to the Elven Quarters and turned to go there, not knowing that the half-elf was farther away than that. -- Bakr ibn Ja'far ibn Musa al Mekneshi, apprentice mage aka Lifilis Kloote, conjurer and artist aka Thomas Kettenring MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [BDAY] [MG] Morning AfterMath Message-ID: References: Date: Fri, 4 Jun 1993 23:15:39 GMT [ADMIN] This story contains adult situations and relationships. It does not contain explicit sexual detail, but if you or your parents might be disturbed, please hit "n" now. Self-rated PG-18 for mature theme. Karl woke up without a hangover. He knew it was impossible. He had drunk, what, seven skins of wine last night? And he didn't normally drink more than a cup. The thought of wine made him thirsty. Then he realized he had to use the loo. But he couldn't move - there was a warm, furry weight on his chest, across his right arm; his left hand was thrown across a hot, dry, smooth body. He left it there, stroking the skin, feeling the gooseflesh form under his fingers. He opened his eyes - it was still dark in here. There was a warm, musky scent, like clean sweat but more intense. He found it kind of exciting. The weight on his chest moved, muttered; he resolved a blond head in the darkness, delicate curves faintly visible in the dimness; a sort of faint ruddy glow came from the body, and from his own. Memory began to return: they'd all been pretty drunk and someone, a big blond guy, 'Raf, that's right, hired them for the night, they'd been playing for the hardcore dancers until just before sunup, and then something about getting their stuff from the shack where they'd been living. They'd crashed at Raf's place, then ... yeah, there was some kind of an orgy. He stroked the blond head - yeah, it was Anna, he recalled that part now. He smiled. She had been teasing him for months now. Well, it was worth the wait. She rolled off him, grabbing one of the big pillows they were lying on, still asleep, so he sat up then stood, unsteady on his feet. The loo was off in this other room. Not out the hall, don't want to wake the rest up yet. He stepped into the tiled room, closed the door behind him, the faint glow from his skin enough to see by. That was strange. Like what he'd heard from the elves that he used to sub in with, they called it the heatsight. So 'Raf had done something to them, he remembered that bit now. Gave them the heatsight, and something about music, but he couldn't quite remember that bit. A strange tune skirled around in the back of his head, but it evaded his conscious grasp. He looked around the small room, feeling his feet slip strangely on the tiles - it felt like he had tight, heavy boots on. And his legs felt kind of weird, springy almost. And he felt horny, again. That was weird. He had a clear memory of all the band and a few others, spending the early hours exhausting one another. But he wasn't in any kind of pain, not like when he and a couple cousins had gotten themselves a case of blue-balls when they were just fourteen, goin' at it for hours with some of the girls their age from the farm. That had been real trouble - none of the girls got pregnant, thanks to the local witchywife, but their parents had found out, and he had been exiled back to the city. Uncle Karl had been disappointed with him for that one - mostly, because they'd been stupid. He decided to look up the old man, they'd not spoken since he got back from the trip to Rameshan. No time. Well, there was time today, right? The faint illumination from his body heat showed him the strange chamberpot, one of those fancy flush-style arrangements that was popular among the wealthier folks. He reached down to aim. Anna was awakened by a shout of shock. What the hell? She brushed her hair back across her face, settling it back across her small, but not useless, horns. Horns? Oh good. It hadn't been a dream. She smiled and looked around her. There, a warm spot where Karl had been, heat fading away. The twins, curled together in each others arms; a sparkly-skinned fellow over there with the two fox women, a relatively small but powerfully built centaur stal curled up with a pair of furry-bodied women with skunk-stripe fur patterns. There was still gentle snoring from the others; she decided not to wake them. Karl must be in the loo. She got up onto her hooves, wondering at how easily she'd learned to move this changed body. She crossed to the loo, went inside, closing the door. Karl was standing there, holding onto himself with disbelief. She touched the fader-switch and the lights began to come up in the room - that was strange, she thought, where did that bit of magic knowledge come from? In the light, Karl was no longer a glowing figure. He was just holding onto his manhood, staring at it, stunned. She giggled. "What?" he said. "What's so funny?" "You, silly. Standing there with the family jewels in hand and a look on your face like a poleaxed bull." "Well how would you feel, finding out that your favorite body part had been replaced by a complete stranger?" "Karl, sweet, you didn't treat it like a stranger this morning. Besides, it's an improvement on the old one." "Hey, size isn't everything, remember? It's the technique?" She giggled. "Yeah, but you have both now. Really, didn't you remember the dance and the music and everything?" "Yes. But I thought it was a dream, or an illusion." "Did you?" "Okay, so, I didn't really believe it. It's still a shock." "Why did you come in here? If you're not going to use the pot, let me get at it." "Oh. Right." He aimed, emptied his bladder. She sat down when he was done, and giggled again when he went over to the mirror. "What's so fascinating?" "It's really me. Wow." He touched his head where the horns were growing, four inches long, wavy, slightly forward pointed. His red hair curled back, and he pulled it away to examine the pointed tips of his ears. He wiggled his ears - they were kind of mobile. "What, you don't like it?" She activated the bidet, and stood, drying off with the small towel provided for that purpose. "No, I love it. When I was a kid, well, a young boy, there was a troupe of satyrs who used to come through. They had a son my age, and I used to be jealous of how fast he could run and jump and all that stuff. He taught me my first drumsong, did you know that?" "No." She walked over next to him, catching her own reflection in the mirror. Her hair was touseled but it looked great, kind of wild and not tangled at all. She glanced over at him. "Look at you though. Prime beef. Lovely." "What do you mean?" He looked at his reflection: curly red hair, a short beard the same color, deep bronze skin, hairless over his shoulders, chest, back, stomach, a light patterning of ruddy hair on his arms. An acrobat's build, or an apprentice knight: hard, but not too much for freedom of movement, yet not too little, and with all the proper curves in the right places. Thick, soft red fur starting at his waist, covering powerful thighs, legs tapering off to long relatively thin shanks and strong black hooves the same color as his sharp, up-curving horns. Deep green eyes. A tail. A goat's tail. He turned, flicked it up and down, admiring the way it moved. "Just looks like me." "Well, you _were_ kind of pale and scrawny, Karl." She poked his arm-muscle, drew her finger up along his shoulders. He tensed and relaxed. Very good definition. Maybe he had been a little too thin. Okay, so he made a better satyr than he had a human. "Is that why you wouldn't sleep with me?" "No, I wouldn't sleep with you because you had no future. I was being a mercenary bitch, I wasn't going to have any man but one that I could either rule, or who could make me rich." She ran her hands through her hair, removing a hint of a tangle, unconsciously arching her back to show off the high curve of her ribcage, the large firm breasts that did not sag at all like one would expect. She rippled her tummy muscles in and out like a belly dancer, admiring the tone. And she had muscles elsewhere, too - she'd been raised too ladylike, before she ran off from home, and she'd been kind of softly weak, then when she learned to play music she'd only gotten a little arm strength. She turned around to admire her reflection, all gold and sparkling. She realized that Karl was staring at her hungrily. She met his gaze with her soft amber eyes. "No, I didn't sleep with you because I thought I needed better." Karl felt something strange - a wave of affection, of lust, and it was centered outside himself, emanating from her. He blinked. "And you changed your mind?" He stroked her nearest breast, seeing the color patterning of her lighter skin against his own darker hand. "Keerah's hells, yes. I don't need a man to make me a person any more. `I am woman, hear me roar' or some such thing." She grabbed him around the neck and shoulders, and pulled him close for a kiss. After a few minutes, they unclenched, breathing deep for air. He considered taking her there on the tiles, but courtesy required asking first. "Wow. You wanna?" "Sure. Where? They're still sleeping out there." "How about the shower?" He pointed to the far end of the room, where the glass-brick wall hid the shower. The shower was large enough for the centaur outside to bathe in. There was a small enamelled pot filled with a soft soap, but the traditional overhead bucket was missing. Instead there was a small tube with a strange contraption on one end, lying on the shelf between the soap and the dried-gourd scrubber. "How does this work?" Karl turned it around in his hands. "I dunno. What does that say there?" Anna pointed to the small bulb on one end. There was a wavy-line glyph there, reminiscent of water. Karl touched it, and a spray of warm water started out of the other end. "Wow. Hey, it adjusts!" He twisted the handle, and the spray grew harder and more focussed, then started to pulsate. "A wand of water! Let me see!" Anna tried to grab it and he lifted it higher, getting her head wet; her hair immediately turned three shades darker but the curl did not leave it. He adjusted it again, back to a soft steady stream, while she danced around underneath, getting warm water over her whole body. "I wish it could stay put without me having to hold it," he said, reaching a hand into the soap. "Look, there's a bracket on the wall there. Maybe it fits in that?" She pointed, and Karl noticed a small wire frame. The wand fit into it perfectly, of course, and the spray was concentrated to a spot underneath it. He grinned and got the scrubber wet, then proceeded to get her very very clean, the slow way. Dack woke up in his brothers' arms. An inexpressible sensation of love came over him. At last, it was in the open, what they had refused to admit to each other for most of their lives. Dirk was still asleep though. Dack pulled him close, nuzzling into the nape of his neck, and he woke up. "'mornin," he whispered. "It wasn't a dream," Dack replied, whispering in return. "Nope. Hey, it's dark in here. I wanna see what we look like sober." "You look fine to me. Hey, over there, isn't that the Varnaker sisters with that stal?" Dack helped his brother to sit up and they looked around the room by the faint glow of body heat. "Yeah. Did we really, all five of us...?" "I don't remember for sure, I was way too drunk last night." "Well, howcome we ain't hung over?" "Feel your forehead, Dirk. We's satyrs now, you remember that part?" "Yeah. That wine was somethin' else." "Where's Karl and Anna? They was right here." "I dunno but I need ta use the pot." "The loo's over there," Dirk pushed himself up to his feet, using his twin for leverage, then pulled him up in turn. There was some faint stirring from the other sleepers, so they were careful to be extra quiet as they crossed the room. It was kind of bright behind the door, and they slipped inside as quickly as they could so the light wouldn't disturb the others. Their eyes adjusted quickly. There was a giggle and a moan of pleasure from the glass-brick enclosure at the far end of the room. So that was where Karl and Anna had gotten off to. "Wow, lookit this place." "Yah, lookit you, bro." Dack's voice sounded amazed. Dirk looked in the mirror. Yesterday when he'd woken up he'd been a seventeen year old human, with straight black hair and a big nose that looked kind of lumpy like a potato, and ears too big that stuck out, a body that was working on being just a little pudgy from all the beer and wine he drank, but still pretty strong from working at the docks. At least, that's what he'd seen when looking at his twin, and he knew people told them they were as like as two sardines in the net. But today he had jet-black hair that curled down past his shoulders, in glossy tight strands, and his hairless jaw was straighter and stronger, his eyes were the same blue as the sky just after sunset. His nose didn't look a lot like a potato either, just square and strong, and his ears stuck out but they were pointed, mobile. And he had two big curvy horns kind of like a ram's horns. He grinned, and all his teeth were there, straight and white against his olive skin. His body was just as strong as before, maybe more, but the last traces of baby fat and beer bloat were gone; there was a trail of fine hair from his navel down to where his hips began. And below, where _everything_ was different. "Geez, Dack. Lookit our legs. We never got hairy legs before." "Yah, well, we never got hoofs before neither." Dack grinned and nodded towards the shower. "Wanna use the loo, then we can go see what's makin' those two be so quiet?" MagicHutchHeader From: fogelinc@pt.Cyanamid.COM (Carl Fogelin) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Observing] It's big, it's ugly, it's BAD!!! Date: 5 Jun 1993 03:30:35 GMT Message-ID: <1up40r$dkt@c3po.jvnc.net> >Crombie stabbed the taser at the beast and released 150,000 volts into it's flesh. > >The beast jolted up-right and smoke started to emerge from its mouth and >hair. When Crombie disengaged the taser, the beast stood still for a moment >and then said "WOW!!!" Turning to look at Crombie with an evil glint in his >eyes, the beast said "Do that again. Please..." > >Crombie looked incredulously at the beast, the taser, then turned and ran >out of the alley, screaming. It's a good thing that Crombie's age was closer to 29 than the 54 that his disguise made him look. Further, it was a good thing that he was in pretty good shape, but his mimicing a fisherman had not prepared him for out-racing a violent enemy. Now, adrenaline was another matter. Right now a whole bunch was coursing through his veins. But adrenaline, like money, soon runs out. He took a quick look over his shoulder hoping to see some distance between the beast and himself, but the creature was only a few feet behind him -- all teeth and claws and big, BIG eyes... Quickly turning his head, Crombie tried to still the uncontrolled panic that was rising in him. "ANALYZE!" he muttered as he ducked quickly around a corner. The crash behind him, while satisfying, wasn't sufficeint for him to look back. "ASSETS... What... ARE... MY... ASS... AARGH!!!" Crombie crashed into the unexpected fence, momentarily dazed. A quick check behind him showed those BIG EYES looming closely. He practically vaulted the obstacle, but he wasn't fast enough to avoid the claw which raked the back of his right thigh. Fire, his thigh was on fire, further muddying his thought processes. Limping noticeably, he struggled over the refuse that had collected from the storm in this cul-de- sac. There was a light ahead... Like a moth, Crombie ran straight towards it. ***** Generica's birthday celebration was welcomed by most everyone in Generica -- a celebration after the misery of the storm, a chance for fun, a chance for profit. Murky Tor and Dogface had already made more money then they had in the last month, and the night was still young. They were sitting near a dilapidated building, discussing where next to apply their trade when suddenly a strangely dressed man emerged limping from an alley near them. They didn't notice the fright in his eyes nor the desparation in his pace. They saw a hurt prey with lots of neat items "just hanging there" to be taken. Without any noticeable signal, the two quickly took offensive positions and started to stalk their prey. This one had "easy target" written all over him in big, neon letters. Quickly they narrowed the distance and Dogface, sap in hand, swung with practiced ease. The problem was the beast. These two interlopers had just gotten between it and its intended victim. That was a mistake. ***** Crombie suddenly heard a scream behind him and the sound of something breaking. He turned his head in time to see the beast twist Dogface's upper body around and fold back on his lower torso. The thief's bones were snapping as easily as twigs, and the now quite dead man was slowly stuffed into the beast's maw. Murky Tor was pinned down under one of the beast's feet, screaming in sheer horror. As the beast slowly chewed Dogface, he eyed Murky. While Crombie wished he could help, self-preservation was higher on his list. It wouldn't be long until the beast remembered him and continued his persual. Crombie realised he needed help, that he was out-classed by this creature. The problem was that all his friends were fishermen. The harbor was way too far away to be even plausible. Suddenly, he thought of the Dragon's Inn. Adventurers hang out there... yah, they could help. It was his best shot. Taking one last look back at the beast, Crombie limped as fast as he could towards the Dragon's Inn. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [ ADMIN: Anyone out there willing to take care of my demon problem? Fighting ] [ is really not Crombie's forte'. ] -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Carl Fogelin (fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com) "All opinions are strictly mine" Up the long ladder and down the short rope, To Hell with King Billy and God bless the Pope. -- traditional MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] SLEEEP!!! Message-ID: <1993Jun5.045759.9119@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Sat, 5 Jun 93 04:57:59 GMT "Charge!" Palandun shouted, drawing Gynsoo and running at the demons surrounding the temple of Besht. The guardsmen groaned, shrugged, and followed him. This was the last temple to be cleared, the last pocket of resistance to be squashed. All the humans in the battle were really tired. This battle went really fast. Stab, slash, clobber, bloodcurdling scream, take a breath. Palandun looked around. Six guards down, three still engaged, the rest okay. Dang, the lieutenant was down. "Stretcher Bearers!" Palandun ordered, then he went back into the battle. Stab, clobber, slash... "Oh, and Ambassador." Melwis said, looking down from his carriage outside the Inn, "Thank you for your assistance." "Don' menshun it." Palandun grumbled, took a look at the rising sun, waved good-bye, and stumbled in. "I put Jorma up in his own room." Ja'nis said, looking up from breakfast. "Good word, what happened to you??" "I was havin' fun." Palandun replied. "Who's...Oh, yeah. I'm gonna sleep now." "No you're not, today's the day we leave, remember?" "Don' make me slay you." "C'mon, your things are packed. You shouldnt have gone out and partied if you didn't want this to happen. Serene! could you whip up a bag breakfast for my friend here?" "No." Serene said, "But the S.O.C. made one already. It'll keep for quite a while." She handed it to Ja'nis. "Thanks a lot." Ja'nis said, "Tell Rowan we'll be back in a week or two." She herded Palandun out the door, grabbed their bags, and steered everything to the river docks. "Boss, this is my friend, Palandun." "The Palandun?" A good-looking middle-aged man asked. Ja'nis looked quizically. "Melwis found a new hero, a Bismanian named Palandun. He defeated a troop of demons single-handed. Are you him?" This last was directed at the shabby, slightly bleeding, exhausted figure that wished it were lying down on the docks. "Lotta Palandun's. Common name. Means 'Far West.' You gotta bed? Yeah, I'm him." "Please come in!" Gunther Toodie said, herding his new guest aboard. "Certainly we have a bed, did you not sleep well? Well, of course not. Here..." ADMIN: I'm gonna be gone for a week or so. Be back the 13th. Just so you know. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: Kadrys & Kardia: Don't Let It Show Message-ID: <1993Jun5.172906.19013@data-io.com> Date: Sat, 5 Jun 1993 17:29:06 GMT [ADMIN: Posted on behalf of Andrea Evans. By both of us.] --- Daylight. The prosaic beams of the sun had returned to Generica, replacing the wild polychrome sparkling of the wizard torches, the warm flicker of the bonfires and braziers, the shadows where anything could happen. The dawn had passed, and the morning, though cloudy, was well-advanced, when a man crossed the Plaza of Glittering Steel, moving toward the Dragon's Inn. Strangely, he was dressed only in a pair of dark trousers, his bared torso gleaming pale in the grey, shadowless light. Kadrys slipped into the Inn, breathing a faint sigh of relief as its familiar, welcoming shadows stroked the pain of the sun away from his skin. He vanished briefly into the storeroom behind the bar where he kept a few belongings, emerging dressed and with the tangled aftereffects of the party combed out of his thick black hair. He was about to head upstairs, when he was approached by the greybearded man he had first met at Luthor and Serene's housewarming. The one who'd only give his name as "Captain". He grinned at Kadrys, threw a conspiratorial glance upstairs. "That Kardia. Lovely lass, isn't she?" "Uhh, yes, she is..." Kadrys muttered, frowning slightly. 'Who needs telepathy or town criers when there's the good old fashioned rumour mill?' he wondered a little acerbically to himself. Captain sidled closer, widened the grin a touch. "I understand she's got no relatives here. So I was wondering... Could you use a man, a fatherly sort of fellow, someone like _me_, to ... give her away?" Kadrys blinked. He had had a long and very eventful night, and this man had just lost him completely. "..._What?_" he asked eventually. "_You_ know. Give her away. Like her own father would, (if she had him here, poor girl). ...At your _wedding_!" 'Our _wedding_...' Kadrys thought, half dazed by the idea. Some tired and semihysterical part of him wanted to scream with laughter at the idea, at the thought of half of Generica gathered for one of those solemn, pompous, _blessed_ ceremonies, and having to put up with the - ah, spectacular - consequences of dragging _him_ across a hallowed threshold. Another tiny part of him just wanted to scream. Unbelievable, what people could bring themselves to expect of others, on the flimsiest evidence. Absolutely incredible. And absolutely inevitable. ...And understandable. The annoying part was, he could not really bring himself to _be_ annoyed at the townsfolk's blithe assumption. They were so obviously wishing him happiness, that on the whole, he could not help but feel strangely touched by their interest, however uncomfortable it also made him. At last he managed to dredge up some halting words. "Umm, I'll have to think about it. I'll let you know..." He backed away and darted upstairs, as much to escape any more wellwishers, as to check on Kardia. But it was at times like this that he cursed his sensitive ears. He could not close them to the knowing chuckles that came from at least five of the corners in the room below, could not avoid hearing Mary Littlefair comment sentimentally to the room at large, "Ahh, that's nice, isn't it. Him hurrying up to see her so soon. Solicitous, that's what I call it." "Well I'd like to tell ya what _I_ call it, ma'am..." came the rejoinder from one of the townsfolk, the leer plain in his voice. "Hush now, none of that. He's a gentleman, that one, and she's a real lady, as polite and quiet as anyone I've ever had under this roof, not like some I could name, young man!" He hastened down the hallway, the talk below vanishing from his attention, displaced by the thought of Kardia, of the concern he had felt for her all night and all morning, since the moment she had left his presence, weeping in a confusion of griefs. Silently, he paused outside her door. This time, his hearing proved itself a boon instead of a curse. He could hear clearly through the thick timber of the door, the regular, deep breathing that spoke of sleep. He nodded, smiling to himself, glad that she was getting the rest she had so obviously needed. He would not do anything to disturb her. Far better to wait and see her later, when she was rested. He turned soundlessly and descended the stairs once more, taking his usual seat and doing his best to appear to be obviously moody and lost in thought. Anything to keep more people from asking him about this wedding, at least until Kardia arrived. It wasn't until about noon that Kardia woke up. The soft sound of a spring rain made it even harder to think about getting up, but the scent of food from the main taproom made her stomach grumble. She sighed and rubbed rather puffy eyes. Her nose wrinkled and she shook her head ruefully. She splashed cold water on her eyes while washing up before breakfast. It didn't help much. She dressed and hoped that Littlefair would have ice to bring the swelling down. The puffy flesh of her eyes was uncomfortable and it embarrassed her to have such an obvious sign of her crying of the night before, so she kept her head down until she got down to the main pub room. At the counter, she asked a tired looking Littlefair, "Please, may I have some ice?" Rowan made no comment about her eyes, but she could see the concerned look in his eyes. "It's O.K." she said, "I was just crying, some." She chuckled to show him, "I'm better now." Littlefair produced a cup with chunks of broken-off ice in it. "Will this do?" "Mmm... perfect. Thank you." "Take care, lass." he said kindly. She was able to give him a real smile then and he smiled back at her in return. She turned away from the counter and saw Kadrys at a table. He wasn't looking at her. She thought about running back to her room, but then shook her head. If her looks were all that had attracted him to her than it would be better to know that. She doubted that, though, from what she remembered of the night before, even as part of her wished that it was so. It would have been easier if she were sure he didn't care about her. Kadrys did not look surprised when he looked at her as she approached his table. As she got closer, though, his eyes narrowed just a touch at seeing her face. She sat down across from him and managed a laugh. "Sorry..." Kardia's hands fluttered a little around her face. "I... I was just crying last night and... I'm better now. It's just these stupid tear ducts..." She sighed in exasperation. "The ice should help bring the swelling down..." She pulled a clean sock out of her waist bag and put the chunks of ice down in the toe and pressed the coldness to one eye with one hand. She sighed softly at just how good it felt against the heat. She was slightly surprised when Kadrys gently touched her other hand, which lay on the table. At her start, he began to draw away. She then deliberately curled her slender fingers around his ivory white ones. A current not so different than the one she'd felt dancing with him the night before flowed gently through the touch. She swallowed and tried to find the courage to say what she had to say. "Is there something you'd like for breakfast?" said Mary Littlefair's cheerful voice. The gray haired matron was beaming at the hands clasped on the table. Kardia started and then grinned at the woman. "Yes, please. I'd really like some oatmeal with some sugar, cream, and any fruit you might have left over from yesterday... and maybe some cider or juice of some sort?" "Certainly, sweets for the sweet, and it certainly is nice to see someone capable of cheering Mister Kadrys up." Mary bustled away chuckling. Kardia blinked after the departing figure and then laughed aloud when she saw the glint of amusement in Kadrys' eyes. "Has this been going on all morning?" Kadrys blinked solemnly at her, "Ohh, it's worse than that... there's even talk of a wedding." "Oh, no." At Kardia's completely shocked look he started laughing. She groaned in exasperation and then joined him in his laughter. "You had me going there..." "But it's true." She quieted and looked at him. At the look in his eyes, she blushed and looked down at the table. "I... I realized last night that there are some things I need to tell you. First, I am not from this world." He simply nodded. "Seems to be a lot of us, I guess. Second, I was married already, once, to... to Alistair Xvaramene. He..." her voice dropped to almost a whisper. "He taught me many things and gave me..." she swallowed, fighting to say what needed to be said. "Anyway... he died three seasons ago. I... I am not even that sure how long ago it was 'cause I don't know how the calendars here work or what day it was, exactly, that I was dumped on Nexus." She took a deep breath and was relieved to find that when she looked up she could meet Kadrys' eyes. "Heck... I didn't care, then." "I guess that's the natural lead in to the third thing. I'm not exactly sure that I'm... well.. over him, yet. There are times when I'm so... lonely." Her hand tightened just a little on his, "And I'm still somewhat uncertain if the reasons I'm attracted to you are solely for you or if it's because you remind me of him. It's been so long since I've had to be on my own I also don't know if I'm just running to you because I feel like I have to have someone take care of me." "I... I guess I'm telling you these things because I promised you that I wouldn't hurt you, wouldn't betray anything you gave me. And you deserve to know at least as much as I know of the truth." The wet, cold sock was set on the table between them, and she put both her hands on his. "Last night I realized that I'd probably hate both of us if I stepped directly into a relationship with you without knowing if I could stand on my own. If I couldn't support myself, couldn't deal with life with only friends instead of a lover. Alistair always seemed so much stronger and more capable than I, so I always just leaned on him and took it for granted. I guess..." she paused and the next phrase came out a little harder than she intended, "I guess I'm tired of being helpless." Slowly, he nodded. There was no trace of shock from him at her vehemence, only silent understanding. "Which brings me to a question. Last night, when you... kissed me, why didn't you tell me that it was going to be far more than just me donating a pint of plasma, of liquid and cells? That it would be..." Kardia was lost for words. Then she grinned at the memory, "That it would be a sharing of minds? You called it my giving myself to you. I hadn't been ready for that." Kadrys' glance dropped to their clasped hands for a moment. When his eyes met hers once more, they were full of wordless apology. His voice was a murmur barely louder than the rain. "I thought you knew. When I told you I was a vampire, you didn't even seem all that surprised. You knew what the blood meant to me, I thought you knew what the taking of it would mean to you." His voice dropped even lower, an ashamed wisp of sound, "At first, I guessed that that was part of the reason behind your offer: that you wanted it, the pleasure of the embrace, the closeness behind it." He frowned and looked away, his face tight with chagrin at his mistake. 'I should have known better,' he thought bleakly to himself, 'I should have known her offer was just too good: that nobody could really accept everything I am _that_ calmly, that completely, that quickly.' The pain rose in him like a cold salt wave, the mourning for a sweet, swift acceptance he thought he had finally found, that he now knew he could never have had. He forced the grief down with the expertise of long, bitter practise. He had to be calm. For her. So, he was. Kardia's hands tightened on his. She reached out, hesitantly and then, remembering how she had touched him the night before she stroked him on the chin, brought his gaze back to meet hers. There was no condemnation on her face, no anger, "That makes sense. You couldn't have guessed that." It was a long moment before his chagrined expression faded. At last, he nodded in reluctant agreement. "I knew how deeply wrong that guess was, the moment our minds met. You had never expected what was happening to you. I could have backed away at once, but the contact had already been made. I decided to stay, to show you something of my feelings, give you something of my own self in recompense." She shook her head. "I'm sorry. I..." she blushed and looked away, her hands loosening on his. "I'm glad you did that. Very much so. You gave me something that no one else could have any other way, you gave me my courage back. My... belief in my capability to do something when I thought I was helpless. You gave me more than just yourself in the exchange that followed, you gave me back a piece of *my* self." At these words, he smiled softly, gratefully at her. The expression was a strange contrast to the black intensity of his stare, in its own way almost as compelling as gaze. "...And after all, _was_ it really such a terrible experience?" he whispered. "When you had been prepared for pain, had even thought there was a chance of falling victim to my curse?" She laughed softly, "No... it was... amazing." Kardia took a very deep breath. "It was pretty much beyond anything I could have imagined." Her eyes softened, "The pleasure..." her hands tightened on his. "... it was more than anything I've ever experienced in my life." Her smile bent just a touch wry. "And I'll admit that I'm a little afraid of that. Afraid that I might become addicted to that pleasure. Come to depend on you for it. That frightens me still." Kadrys bowed his head, his face falling into shadow. Too much of what she said had cut too close to his heart. The need to resist the seduction of pleasure - gods in hell, how well did he understand _that_, he who could smell living blood with every breath he took, he who had to fight down the rage of his thirst every night of his unlife, stop himself from killing with every contact he made. And the horror of helplessness, of exposure of your mind to an outsider? How well, how very recently, he had tasted of _that_. Only the night before, he had been forced for the first time in his aeons-long existence, to open the ultimate depths of his soul, to give himself completely, to another. The precious sovereignty over himself that he had fought the madness and the millenia to preserve, he had finally had to abandon. It had taken all of his strength, coupled with the desperation of knowing that his friend had been corrupted in some critical way, unreachable by any other means, before Kadrys could bring himself to risk that exposure, that vulnerability. Indeed, the final cost to his difficult, lonely survival, of that surrender might never be known. He had been profoundly shocked at what he had felt when their melding was abruptly severed. He, Kadrys, the outsider, the loner, the solitary, had ached with deep grief and loss at the separation. No matter how he had tried to deny it and rationalise it since, he could not escape the knowledge that -- contrary to everything he had ever believed, no, _known_, about himself -- he had _loved_ it: the union, the togetherness, the becoming more than his own single self. Even, truth to tell, the moment of yielding to the merging itself: he had been expecting, had been prepared to fight down, panic, fear, revulsion. He had been entirely unprepared for his own final acceptance. Something deep, something absolutely vital to his soul's centre, had been touched and transformed by the experience. He knew the necessity for that merging had been absolute, would choose to do it again, even knowing its aftermath. This did not mean that the risk he had accepted was a simple one. The implications extended farther than his foresight could reach. What if, because of that instant of togetherness, he would find the coming endless solitude a tiny, crucial bit harder to bear? There had been so many times in the black reaches of his past when his loneliness had pushed him right to the brink... Only time would tell. All he could tell now was, that much as he owed 'Raelf, yes, much as he loved 'Raelf and much as he had loved the experience of sharing his own soul with him, Kadrys could not help wishing in his secret heart that their merging had not been necessary. And, despite Raffi's early efforts to turn it into a one-way debt and payment, their melding had in the end been on equal terms. This was a far cry from Kardia's situation. She had been _held_ inside his power. That the contact had always been the tender embrace of a lover, could not alter the essential imbalance between them. The fact that he cared deeply for her, would do nothing ever to harm her, did not remove the knowledge that, had he chosen, that embrace could without effort have become an irresistible stranglehold. No wonder she felt overwhelmed, lost, even slightly afraid. In her circumstances, he knew he would. He drew a long, deep breath and slowly raised his head. His tones were even and his eyes as they met hers were calm and clear. "What happened last night was - too much, too fast, too soon. I understand. I sympathise with your situation..." 'More than you know,' he added silently. "...You're a long way from home. You're grieving for your lost love. You still have much to come to terms with. You need room to breathe, time to think. A chance to find out who you really are, deep down. A chance to grow, out of the shadow of a protector. If I were you, I'd want the same." He bowed his head in a single slow nod, a gesture of acquiescence, graceful and unforced. Kardia sighed softly in relief. "...As you wish." he continued. "Consider me a friend, just that, and nothing more. Unless and until you should ever, in some distant time, decide to change your mind." Kardia's eyes narrowed just a touch at the phrasing. "Nothing more? But I don't think that a relationship can be built on anything _less_ than a friendship..." His eyebrows lifted fractionally and he gave a faint nod of agreement. "That's so true... Kardia, you are very wise. Far wiser than many who I have seen mistake the action of other glands for that of their heart." he added with a twist to the corner of his mouth, an ironic expression which instantly vanished before he resumed. "Friendship _is_ the best basis for love. Vital for lasting love." Suddenly he flashed her a bright, crooked grin, breaking the solemn mood. "Besides, it's a pretty damn wonderful thing in itself, wouldn't you say? ...And please, _don't_ worry about me for a moment. I have _no_ cause for complaint, believe me. It was a pleasure... it'll be a privilege, to be your friend." At that moment, Mary appeared in the kitchen doorway with Kardia's oatmeal. Kadrys rose silently to his feet. Kardia looked up at him with clear eyes. "I'll let you enjoy your - ah, brunch" he grinned, "- in peace. Goodbye..." Though it only took a moment for his hands to slip out of her grasp, the cool smoothness of his touch seemed to linger on her skin, as he smiled at her, and turned away, and left the Inn. (If it's getting harder to face every day, don't let it show. Don't let it show. Though it's getting harder to take what they say, just let it go. Just let it go.) "And if it hurts when they mention my name, say you don't know me. And if it helps when they say I'm to blame, say you don't own me." (Even if you feel you've got nothing to hide, keep it inside of you. Don't give in. Don't tell them anything. Don't let it... Don't let it show.) - The Alan Parsons Project -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [MG] [AU] Looking for Housing Message-ID: <1993Jun5.173822.19140@data-io.com> References: <1993Jun5.172906.19013@data-io.com> Date: Sat, 5 Jun 1993 17:38:22 GMT After her breakfast, Kardia went up to her room and packed everything. Kardia left the Inn with her bags, her harp case, the horse bow and quiver of arrows, and her walking stick. The shawl and scarf were packed away, after some thought. With the requirement of her healing throat it was better not to wear the articles. She was pretty sure that 'Raelf was all right now; but it had taken a little weighing on her part to decide to put away the shawl and scarf. She turned to the Ceru and walked over it on the bridge. The Mage Guild still amazed her and she took an extra ten minutes to study the front hallway. Then she strode in and got lost. She managed to find her way back out and then asked the front receptionist, "Uhm... how do I find the door to 'Raelf's house?" A light lit on the wall. She followed it and came back to the portal that she'd exited the other morning, and popped through into the fragrant garden. There was a newly planted tree amid a mound of soft earth. The rain fell gently around her and she looked up at the sky with a smile. Familiar, the touch of the water lightened her mood. The grey skys were comforting. She moved through the arch to the front door of the beehive shaped house. The grating clanged softly under her footsteps. Kardia scraped her travelling boots off there, and then knocked on the front door. She'd half expected someone to answer it before she even knocked, but no one did. So she knocked again. A boy child trotted up to her from the Garden, half covered in dirt and a grin. "Hiya." Kardia blinked. "Hi. I'm Kardia..." "I'm Kev." he put out a very brown hand. Kardia shook it, doing her best not to laugh. "Is 'Raelf around? I need to talk to him." Kev nodded vigerously and made a come-hither gesture. Kardia grinned and followed. As they went around the building, Kev looked back at Kardia and put one finger to his lips in a universal quiet sign. Kardia nodded to acknowledge the sign. Kardia had never seen a satyrlion do a staff kata before. Of course, she'd never seen a satyrlion before the other day in her life, so it wasn't that surprising. She kept very, very quiet and sat down, crosslegged where Kev stopped. Kev grinned at her and ran off. The feline grace that Kardia had glimpsed behind the human form was now highly evident. It wasn't only the smooth furred sleekness of the lower half of his body, clad now in a brief pair of runners' shorts, with a hole behind for his cat's tail: it was also the liquid grace with which he moved. 'Raelf's concentration was a palpable thing, and Kardia found herself breathing consciously with the slow, relaxed control Alistair had taught her at seven. Strike and block, precise and flowing both, a string of positional pearls with little stasis and no dead spots. The kata flowed like water over earth, struck like fire and she could see and hear how his breathing synched with the flow of power. He was very good. So Kardia simply sat and enjoyed the show. At the closing movements, she reluctantly stood up. She waited until he closed and breathed and the concentration dropped away before approaching him. When he looked at her, she unconsciously bowed, putting one fist in one hand and then blushed when she realized what she'd done. 'Raelf returned the movement precisely and with no embarrassment. "Very nice." she said. "Thanks. Not quite my best, though. These legs are tough. More thrust, but the balance is bogus. Tail helps though." Kardia blinked and realized that he had the rear legs of a feline, with the paws, longer ankle, shorter and slenderer calf, with a rotated hip and huge thigh muscles, "Oh, wow." "Yeah..." 'Raelf hesitated then asked, "What's up?" "Uhm... two things. First, I noticed, last night, that Dasham still had a curse on her, so I guess I'm here for the job. The second is news about Andrea and Sheryl. Andrea left a notice in the Inn to all the folks she'd gotten together for the Housebreaking that she needed some time off." Kardia frowned, "It said something about her needing to get into the great open spaces." Kardia was a touch relieved to see that 'Raelf frowned at that phrase as well. "Not much like our city thief, is it?" A shake of the head. "I'm a little worried about her. The night that I finished Sheyrl's cover, someone got into Andrea and Sheyrl's room and tried to throw a huge curse on Andrea. She'd gotten a ring from somewhere and combined with Sheryl's horn Andrea seemed to have reflected the curse so that it hit the caster; but something had changed in her, nothing curse-like that I could see, though. Thing is that I wasn't able to figure out what had changed in the time that I got to examine her; and she'd said that she felt fine. But then this..." Kardia shook her head. "Hmmmm... the power behind that curse on Sheryl... I'm ashamed to say that I copied it when I was out of my head last night, but at least I didn't erase anybody." Kardia gave him a sharp look. "Oy vell. Anyway, Andrea's pretty capable." "Yeah. I know. The main reason I didn't try and round up a posse from those that had already volunteered for the Housebreaking." Kardia grinned, "I can just imagine how she'd look at me if we charged in on her in the middle of a job... Yeah. I guess I'm just enough worried about her to tell you about what happened; and if after the Dasham job she still doesn't show up then you'll know where I went." 'Raelf nodded and then quirked one eyebrow. "You need a place to crash with her gone?" Kardia grinned a slightly abashed grin. "Yeah. I do. If it's not too much trouble..." 'Raelf muttered, "Just as well..." At her confused frown 'Raelf shook his head and said with a grin, "Your room is ready for you if you want to dump your stuff there." "Cool." Kardia hesistated and then said, "I'm really rusty and completely untested, so I don't know how to communicate what level I'm at in any of the arts; but if you want a student at all... I guess I'm asking if you'd want to teach me something after I dump my stuff? If not, no prob, I got plenty of spinning still to do with Dasham's job coming up." "I'd love to practice with you. You figure out how much you're gonna need to spin, and we can start. Anyway Karl wanted to learn some of this stuff too." He grinned at her puzzled expression. "Remember last night? Rhythm Song? The satyr band? Well, they didn't start out as satyrs, but they do NOT want to go back, so I have acquired, how you say, houseguests, for a while. Had a fun time getting all their stuff out of their townhouse. If it wasn't for the twins and that log drum, the landlord would have called the guards on us." Kardia laughed in delight. "Fantastic... Sounds like there'll be interesting company. Most of the spinning can wait 'til tonight, you have the light for me do that; and it's been too long since I've been physically active. I still ache from the dancing last night..." A look of dismay crossed the satyrlion's face. Kardia suddenly realized why she felt like crying. "Hey. It wasn't your fault. I..." she sighed, "I know what it's like being raped, and it looked to me a lot like you were messed with, big time, by someone really nasty. It's taken a long time... but I finally can honestly say that I was innocent. You can't blame yourself for everything you did then. I'm glad you're taking the responsibility of fixing what you can. From what I've seen, you're doin' the best you can; but this blaming bit just can't be helping you *do* that. That make any sense?" "Yeah, I don't blame myself, really, but I don't like the things I did anyway. The band ... all the folks who _chose_ to remain morphs, even though they know they may not have children now? Well, not human children, anyway. I did manage to untangle some of the snarls. Oh well. Enough moping. If you want to stretch out and get in some practice, I'm going to be out here exercising for the next hour or so." "Cool then... I'll be back after a change..." Kardia grinned and said, "Thanks for the foot..." and she bounced on it and ran for the house. This was going to be fun. -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roaming] Departure Message-ID: <1urrkrINNdmv@news.gac.edu> From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Date: 6 Jun 1993 04:26:03 GMT "She's going to kill you." Thaddius smiled to himself. The words would not be so funny, except for their orgin. Large brown eyes looked up at Thaddius with a knowing expression. "You have little more than two months to the wedding. She will think you're running out on her." The half-elf turned to his short friend. A bit over three feet, the little one was very fair with large brown eyes. But his most striking features were the alarming lack of hair and the battle-axe he carried. "Marty," Thaddius began again, "I have already told you..." A sound from the door made both turn. "The kender is right, you know. I think you fiancee is going to be less than thrilled." This speaker was an elf dressed in black chain mail with a katana strapped to his side. Laughing, Thaddius shook his head. "Fletch, I have said it many times. I'll say it one last: SHE UNDERSTANDS. I just need some time to myself." "The Lady Ellen is as wise as she is beautiful. _I_ have no doubt she will accepts her betrothed's reasoning." With this fourth speaker, the room was getting crowded. "OUT! EVERYBODY! _NOW!_" Thaddius had had enough. "Elrond, my gallant friend, I appreciate the support. But remember who is engaged and who is not." Both the kender and the elf in black chain laughed at this comment. The speaker in the door, another half-elf in scale just blinked. Then, "The Lady Ellen is truly beautiful. But not that beautiful. There remain far to many ladies whom have not been honored with my presence. I do not think she will have any difficulties." "That's a relief," repied Thaddius. The four started walking towards the chambers of the Imperial Governor. Just outside his quarters, the final member of their small company greeted them. "About time, Thad," the human said. "My father is anxious to be finished. Apparently, the dark ones are raising trouble on the border again." At this news, pained looks crossed the company's faces. All knew that trouble loomed. Thaddius asked, "Is our aid needed, Justinian? If so, I can delay my journey." The paladin shook his head. "No, Father made it quite clear. The Roamers may be needed, but you are to continue. The rest of us will sit in on the Imperial briefing after your departure." Justinian turned to the crowd. "Father wants to speak with Thaddius alone. It would be best if you made your farewells now." With this pronouncement the company parted ways. The passing was quiet and dignified. Several hugs were shared, and several blessings given, both in the manner of companions who had seen much together. Finally, the bald kender, the black-garbed elf, and the armored half-elf left. Thaddius turned to Justinian. "Lead the way, warrior." The two entered the Imperial suites. Sitting before a massive oak desk was yet another half-elf. His Imperial Lord, Mathias Schofield looked his 175 years. Time, battle, and distance had ravaged his body, while magic and politics had ravished his mind. But his greeting was cordial as ever and his wit still shined. It was no wonderthat, whenever Lord Schofield took a turn at tale-telling, people from leagues about would come to listen. In his youth, he had been a premier bard; there was still much of the performer in him. "Come, young Thaddius. You wish time to think before your commitment?" Thad nodded. "Good, good, no use rushing into such things. Justinian, my boy, say you good-byes. I must talk to the youngster alone." The paladin turned to his friend. "May your god and you music watch you, Thaddius. We will pray for a safe return, two months hence." He clapped the young half-elf on the shoulder and marched out. Thaddius turned to the Governor. "You wished to speak with me, sir?" "Aye, lad. The Lady Ellen sends her regards. By her absence, I assume you have made, uh, private farewells?" Thaddius just blushed. His betrothed had been very...passionate about reminding him of what he would leave behind. Mathias grinned. "Well, I thought as much. Keep ahold of this one, lad. You Lady is precious." The two half-elves walked the length of the room in silence. On the far side, Mathias made several gestures. Thaddius found himself in a moderately well-equipped lab. He was standing in a white chalk circle at one end of a triangle. At the triangle's base floated the Governor. He, too, was enclosed, but in a pentagon instead. "You and your friends come from many worlds, young man. Roaming the planes and spheres has been a way of life for you. Many are the worlds you have come to0 know. Today, you embark on your first solo Roaming. It will mark your transistion to maturity. "I send you to a land called Nexus. You have two months to find a path home to your loved one. We will not aid you; we will not save you. You must fend for your self. Farewell." With that the Governor began chanting. Words of power resonated with the rock about Thaddius. Then the air began to vibrate. Finally, light itself flickered. Reality shiftend, and faded to black. ***** High in the Mysty Mountains, near the source of the Ceruputhon River, a figure appeared. He looked about him, shook his head. Turning to the sky, Thaddius Farsinger saluted. "I'll be Bach." he muttered, paraphrasing a line from a favorite childhood story. "Wait for me, love, wait for me..." With that, he shouldered his back and set out towards the gurgling sound of running water. -Thaddius Farsinger "I promise, Princess. This will be the last I say 'Good-bye.'" ****************************************************************************** Sometimes, those you love most are the ones you have to leave behind. Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: clayton@austin.ibm.com (Clay Colwell) Subject: [ex-TW] The Dragon Awakes Message-ID: Date: Tue, 8 Jun 1993 21:49:58 GMT Eski edged further into the recesses of the building wall, utterly paralyzed. The sight of the bloated, pustulent dragon filling the street in front of him robbed his limbs of strength, his legs of flight. He could do nothing but stare at the dragon and REMEMBER: He was younger then, new to the adventuring trade. Excitement beckoned, and the chance to find his twin brother, who went out into the wonderful maze of planes and dimensions ahead of him. Meeting a youngling human mage face-to-face for the first time: Htiek by name, gangling, moody, but good with a spell. They'd hitched up together, caught with a small adventuring band in a misguided transportation spell. They'd wound up in the most beautiful set of caverns Eski had ever seen. Delicate crystals, bright and iridescent, coated the cave walls wherever he'd looked. Colors bloomed and sparkled in torchlight, glowed and shimmered in mage- light. Heartbreaking beauty, exquisite webs of light. They sat as they arrived, lost in the scenery, when the dragon came. Its claws crushed the crystal, its ebon leathery wings scraping and shattering the gleaming walls. It spat hot acid, spraying the company. Htiek screamed as the caustic liquid burned off his robes, shredded the flesh of his fingers as he frantically cast a dying spell. The acid splashed into Eski's eyes, BURNING BURNING BURNING "LIGHT!" Eski screamed into the night, the tears streaming. "LIGHT!" The sword, falling from his fingers, broke forth in a blue blaze of glory. It took shape, a broad-bladed needle of cobalt, and dove into the eyes of the dragon, which screamed in agony. Its shape melted, the dragonform sluffing off, the true body of the demon exposed. In the meantime, Eski, crazed, signed frenetically, his pudgy digits moving as deftly as they did speedily. A crystal rod rose from his robe unbidden to rest in his palm. Eski smote both hands together, the rod splintering in his hands, bringing forth blazing blood. He stretched both hands behind him, then flung them forward, palms out toward the wailing demon. Bright beams of color, blood-red mixed with sun-yellow, gushed forth, bathing the demon form. It screamed once again, a harsh guttural wail, then exploded. The beams dribbled away, then faded. Eski knelt in the street near a puddle of smoking ichor. The short sword lay on the cobblestones, bright and satisfied. The gnome held his face in his bleeding hands and wept. And wept. And wept. -- 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. MagicHutchHeader From: lacelle@lifesci.ucsb.edu (John Lacelle) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: In the tavern... Keywords: eaves dropping Message-ID: <1v3hriINNfsb@lifesci.ucsb.edu> Date: 9 Jun 93 02:28:02 GMT The weary paladin takes a seat in the corner... "I'll take a draught of your fine ale...miss" The hearty bar-wench saunters off to fetch some gut drencher... The viking-paladin's expression does not betray his thoughts: "Where the hell am I? He ponders..." The woman returns with a large stein and places it squarely in front of the resting man..."Three gold pieces." The paladin turns his thoughts to the muffled conversation at the next table... CONTINUE! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [BDAY] [MG] Breakfast at Noon Message-ID: References: Date: Wed, 9 Jun 1993 07:26:08 GMT [Admin] In the recent past: a party got a bit out of hand. The band is crashing at 'Raelf's place. --0-- "Well, everyone seems to be awake now," ar'Elya said, closing the door into the band's room behind her. "Yeah." 'Raf grinned engagingly, "You know, this is not working out like we had planned at first." 'Raelf nodded silently beside him. His alter-time self was still stuck in the satyric form, but he'd managed to shift it to something closer to his internal self image, so he resembled a humanoid lion, a bare human torso, a slightly more bestial face, but with pawlike hands and lion's tail and shaggy blond mane, while the more mainline 'Raelf had retained his surfer dude form; still the similarities were quite strong. ar'Elya had decided to get used to it; he was happy to deal with her being in several places at once, so it was a fair enough trade. Besides which there was more of him to play with. "Well, what are we going to do? Do you want to have the band living here permanently?" She gestured one thumb towards the door. "One thing's for sure, unless we get them a place elsewhere, they're gonna spend a LOT of time having orgies in there, and that's not going to help any of them adjust to being changed." 'Raf shrugged. "I'm counsellor pro-tem anyway. Only the twelve of them in there came with us, but there's about ... fifteen others, I think, who had furry kinks. Almost a hundred ten rejuves, some dozen cosmetic changes, three pregnancies where the women were infertile by disease or age, and four full-body replacements for crippling or deformity. But that's nothing that'll cause us problems." "Amazing," ar'Elya said, shaking her head. "Where did you get all the power to make those stick?" "Dunno. There was a lot of ritual pool from the dance, lots of emotion, but that wasn't enough. Guess it could have come off of extraplanar tap, maybe." 'Raf shrugged and shook his mane. "Not to worry. We'll read back the recorder once we get clear of the timecorners." 'Raelf shrugged identically, then grinned. "So anyway," 'Raf continued, "That accounts for the furries and the changes consistent with locally available means, and there's the band and groupies. Oh, And there's about ten still in town who changed to existing species, mostly to elven, two to halfling, one to lizard-woman, can you dig it?" "Really? Mondo ejtranyo," 'Raelf turned towards the kitchen, and ar'Elya and 'Raf came along beside him. "Who was it?" "Mungragg. She's the waitress at one of the inns down by Low Town." "Why would she want to be a lizard woman?" ar'Elya frowned slightly. "When I dug up her deepest crave," 'Raf replied, "She had a major love interest in our ol' buddy Thk. Seems they met and it was ZAP at first sight. Kinda strange, that. For a human she had awfully well developed lizard-hindbrain. I wonder if ... Nah." 'Raelf grinned. "She could be, you know. It's about the right amount of time from then." "What are you two talking about," ar'Elya demanded, looping one arm in each of theirs and half-swinging between them. "Oh, just that there were wars with the lizard-men off and on for about twenty years, just finished off about ten, fifteen years back. And they had a lot of spies in town, from what I've seen in the library." "Ah. And a lizard-man spy would have to be shapeshifted in order to really go undetected here in Generica." She nodded. "Right. So some bit of weird magic, one of them in deep cover, she could be the offspring of a human and a lizard." 'Raf shrugged. "I dunno. Even with magic that's kinda unseemly," 'Raelf said, "but it's a possibility. I guess." "Look, it's time for me to get off to the hostel, and I've got to focus Kachin so he can look up Crombie Knacs right now, so you two get food for our guests, and look after the kids." ar'Elya unlooped her arms from theirs. "Will do. Hey, love," and 'Raf kissed her on one cheek while 'Raelf got the other; "What's up with Kachin? You expecting?" "I think so. All I need is another warrior-focus, and I'll have enough to bud off a new little snowflake to make great-aunt happy. Though she's going to have to put up with a male this time." "Cool. You be careful then." 'Raelf gave her a last hug and she faded off in the ackward directions. Then he went into the kitchen. "So brother-me, what we gonna do about this Gift?" 'Raf flipped his cats' tail back and forth, as he made up a bowl of eggs and milk while 'Raelf sliced the bread and heated the grill. "I expect we'll figure a way to get rid of it. Maybe Dariel can take it away once we're done. Depends on what happens, do you remember why you got stuck with it?" "Nah. I blocked it, but I remember it's a major key, can't unload it until we get the full deets." 'Raf began flipping out egg-soaked bread. "Seems like the fight's gonna be this afternoon, maybe around dinner time." "That seems right. My memory is still blocked on it, but you knew that." "Yah. Mine too," 'Raelf took his otherself by the shoulders and looked into his eyes. No flinching, no remaining contamination, just that damned Gift of Power locked in the Earth node. "You handling the form change ok?" "Sure. Just please, if we can avoid it, don't make me stay like this." "Your wish, right? Man. Dirty trick, giving you the Power to grant the hearts' desire of anyone else but you. If I asked you then I'd be making the separation permanent." 'Raelf began sifting powdered sugar on the sides of the cooked toast. "Yeah. And I don't think 'Raye's entitled to ask." 'Raf flipped some more bread out onto the grill, and broke some eggs onto it. "Probably not. She's our mate. She'd be exempt." 'Raelf reached two spatulas out of the rack of utensils, and they began flipping the toast and eggs. Hash browns followed soon after, and coffee and a big pot of grain cereal, and some bacon. "Hey, lion-dude, what's with the oatmeal?" "Oats, monkey-boy. Remember the delivery-kid from the Examiner who wanted to be a centaur." "Oh yeah. He's a little shetland-sized, isn't he?" "Not full quarter-horse, but not that little. Still six-five at the top of his head." 'Raf began putting food onto plates, then ZAPing each plate with a keep-the-same-heat glyph. "Have you checked on the others yet?" 'Raelf loaded plates onto a cart. "Yup. So far, there's the rejuves, they're pretty much happy except that Melwiss is major grumpy about Hector being a lad of twenty, and younger than his grandson. Too bad. Old fart's family has been taking advantage of the poor guy since he was six. Besides, Hector wants to re-open his affair with Dasham." The satyrlion-grin was sharp and wicked. "Wha? Good," 'Raelf snickered. "How's Dash doing, anyway?" "Raye said she was pretty much recovered this morning. She gave her the brief on what happened to me. Oh, you and Kardia got an appointment with our Acting Diana Ross today around six bells. Late afternoon." "Bummer. That's not the best time to be near there. I'll be prepared." "No kidding." 'Raf stopped to think for a second. "Hey, we're down to three in the loops. I think maybe the Air attack is missing." "That's possible. We fixed Kev for Fire, and you for Earth, and Ollex for Water. And I have to stay focussed linear so we have a mainline." "Huh. I'm gonna feed these folks, then go watch the kids. How about you see if maybe Kadrys can come up here?" "Will do. Meet me in the garden then. I'm gonna go practice." Karl was drumming a quiet tune in the corner, while Anna and the twins were talking quietly to Pars. The two pairs of furry-women were in an animated comparison of their different changes, and the centaur was just asleep in the middle of the pile of pillows. "Food's ready, folks." 'Raf pushed the cart through the door. There was a chorus of "Yeah" "About time" "I'm starving". "So 'Raf. What happens now?" Karl took a plateful of food and started eating; he was suddenly starved. The others suddenly mobbed the cart, and Karl and 'Raf moved back away from the feeding frenzy. "We better wake the kid." 'Raf pointed to the still-sleeping centaur. "Yeah. Hey, who is he, anyway?" Karl finished his bacon and started on the fried potato shreds. "Clyde Bankins. Works as a delivery boy for the Generican Examiner. Kid doesn't have any folks, just the old guy at the paper who makes sure he has enough to stay off the street." "Looks like he might be changin' jobs, eh?" "Maybe. He can carry more papers this way. You oughta offer him a job with the band." 'Raf knelt down and began massaging the young stal's bodyjoint. The youth woke up, and noticed the food. Staggering to his feet, he made his way to the loo, and stumbled inside. "Yeah," Karl said, "I been talking with Anna an' the twins. We want you to know you can change us back, take back the music, if you really think it's better that way." "No can do, good buddy. You don't really want me to." "Well, no, we decided we really like the bodies, if you'd said you had to take the stuff back we had it figured out, Anna was gonne find a mage who could change us back again. And we really like having the music an' stuff." Karl looked at his empty plate and shrugged, licking his fingers clean rather than wiping them on his body. "Yeah, that's another problem. How much do you remember of that music?" 'Raf was staring at him with disconcertingly yellow eyes. "Not a lot, except when I'm playing. Anna has it all the time, though, and the twins have some of it, they keep doing this thing, they call it `air guitar', makes these weird noises come out of nowhere," Karl demonstrated, and was surprised to hear a riff come out of nowhere. "Cool. Saves on instruments." 'Raf rubbed his temples, thinking. "Hey, big guy?" "Yeah?" "Weren't you a satyr last night? I mean, the same kind like you changed us into?" Karl tapped the horns, waved one hoof. He nodded to 'Raf's feline foot, "No horns, no hooves?" "Oh yeah. Well, I'm kind of under what you could call a spell, sort of." "Really? But aren't you one of those hotshots from the Dragons' Inn?" "Hotshots? I stayed there a while, what's that got to do with it?" "If you believe what Dougl says about the Dragon's Inn, the folks there even fart perfume. Wouldn't expect to find any of you guys under a spell or anything." 'Raf snorted contempt. "Right, tell Andrea. So, you know Dougl?" "He's my cousin, why, you ever meet him?" "Nah, but I have some friends who got all involved when he was taken by that Ramesh slaver." "Oh. Sure. Wonder what's up with the kid. He's been off at that religious school." "Why don't you stop by and see him, say, tomorrow? You've got to get more accustomed to the bod first, and we gotta get you guys some socially acceptable clothes." "Hey, right, we can get away with performin' naked but we gotta do somethin' for just goin' down the street." Karl looked down at his body and grinned. "Can't be scarin' the kids." "Good Idea. Which reminds me. HEY! ALL YOU GUYS! Listen up. Get over here, we need to talk about some stuff." The rest of the room's inhabitants came over, and settled on the cushions in a circle. 'Raf and Karl sat down as well. "OK. First things. Y'all can stay here as long as you want, the band is crashing here while we work out what's going for future tours and stuff. I'll expect y'all to contribute your share, and that means either gardening, or helping clean, or maybe doin' some hauling and moving upstairs in the factory. Now, let's get a few names here. I'm 'Raf, my brother is 'Raelf, he's the young guy you'll see around the place, the resemblance is pretty clear. ar'Elya is 'Raelf's mate, and she's a shifter, so you might see her in a few different shapes. Don't let it throw ya. The eyes will always give it away. Oh, and I've got two kids living here, Kev is the boy, and Little Rat is a girl from out of Low Town, y'all be good to them, and don't give 'em too hard a time. And we may have a few other guests from time to time." There were nods of assent. 'Raf pointed to Karl. "So, you tell everyone your name, and anything you want about who you are." Karl nodded. "I'm Karl, son of Derol. My father died in the last of the lizard wars, mom was Renna daughter of Karol, she died when I was about seven, from the red fever. Uhm, my uncle Karl was the Quartermaster at Glorshanned, he sort of raised me when he could, but I mostly grew up on the old family farm. I've been living off of busking for a couple years and we formed the band just a year ago, and we've been doing ok, mostly." Anna was next. "Anna daughter of Andina. Mother's a nun in the celibate order of Aldiska, south in Specifica Sugars. She was a noble's third daughter, got knocked up by a travelling bard. So they put her away where she wouldn't be an embarassment. Well. I was raised by her and the Sisters and as soon as I was old enough to leave, I left. I found my father, made him teach me to play the tambourstaff and harp, and travelled with him for about four years before he got a cushy situation with a merchant widow in Specifica Furs, so I left and wound up here." The twins did scissor-paper-stones, and Dirk won. Dack scowled, and began: "I'm Dack, this is my brother Dirk. We's the oldest kids, Mom n' Dad kicked us out when we was sixteen an' old enuf to make our own living, cause there wasn't room for us an' all the other kids, but we's still on good terms. Anyway, we been playin' drum for a while, so when Karl tol' us he was makin' up a band, we joined in. Been doin' cargo work down at docks for a day job, make enough to carry us over, an' Karl finds us jobs." Next in line was one of the two fox women, her long red hair the color of a fox pelt, and a fox's face but with a shorter, slightly broader muzzle, all on a fairly statuesque human female body, except for the pelt of red fur. Her tail twitched, the white tip curling. "I'm Reinna deVris. I was the wife of an Alasirene ship captain, he was lost in the big storm, and I was living on the last of his gold, trying to find a way to make something of myself." Between her and the other fox woman was a lithe, exotic looking man whose skin was a pattern of tiny iridescent scales, long thin plumes of hairlike feathers growing on his head where his hair and eyebrows had been. His eyes were covered by transparent scales, with an inner lid that blinked over the violet slit of his irises. "Parsifal Lucas. I've been a free lance poet, making my living by pleasing the wives of the local merchants, doing odd jobs, and in the lean times, by acquiring largesse from those who were too well off to be harmed by my attentions." He smiled. The fox woman on his left coughed slightly and then spoke. "My name is Monique Evraud. I was maid to the lady Rinna before her good husband was lost at sea, and we have been in partnership since then, she has been like a sister to me." The centaur stal blushed, red against his palomino coloring. "I'm Clyde. I works at da Examiner, sellin' da papers. 'Cept I dunno what's gonna happen now. I don't gots no folks." "Well, first, you'll have a good story for the paper," 'Raf said, grinning, "I'll help you write it up." Clyde grinned back. "How old are you, anyway?" Dack asked him, scratching behind his left horn. "I dunno. Twelve, thirteen, somethin' like dat. Older'n what Mama was when I was borned." The next two women were lushly proportioned, looking a lot like the foxes but with black fur and white stripes, and much bushier tails. They looked at each other, somewhat apprehensively. One of them spoke, rushing. "I'm Beatrice Varnaker, this is Bellatrine, we're sisters but not twins, she's older, our daddy is one of the merchants, he's gonna kill us if he finds out." "Do you want to change back?" 'Raf asked, quietly. "Oh, no, please no," Both of them were almost frantic. "Just asking. Why will your daddy be upset?" "He wanted to marry us off to his trading partner, he's one of those Rameshander merchant princes, but I hate his beard and that oily perfume he uses and Bella hates that he's old and gross." "Right. So is that the only reason you want to stay furry?" "No, we like it, really." Bella tipped her head kind of to the side, blushing invisibly under her fur. "Besides, Bet' likes the twins, and I do too, kind of." Dirk leered at her and she giggled and winked. "O... K... So now I need to make this very clear to you all. If any of you wants to be returned to the way you used to be, you have to ask now, because by this evening, the change will be permanent." There was a general chorus of "no". "Great. Now, let's get some clothes on you folks." He spoke to the air, in a sort of whispery growl that they somehow understood. <> About half the pillows on the floor vanished, and up against the far wall, a big red oak wardrobe appeared. 'Raf led them over to it, and started digging inside. "Clyde, you probably don't need anything except some shoes, you'll have to get those at the farriers. No, never mind, that's not a great idea. Here." He pulled out a set of four of what looked like leather strap-up shoes, only with a very strange sole. "I'll let you figure out how to work these. Meanwhile, here's a standard centaur horseblanket and a belt for fastening your stuff to." The young stal took the handful of things and went over to where there were still cushions to try the things out. "The rest of you. Hmm. The satyrs, all three of you guys are gonna have and wear some kind of thong around the house, or the kind of running shorts I'm wearing. No? Thongs then. I'm sure I have a design in here that won't snag in your fur. Oh, hey, here's this." He grunted, and reached in deeper. "Ladies, these will probably do the job for all of you," and he tossed them a black and red lacquered hexagonal box. Inside were a number of very large silk scarves. 'Raf returned to the chest, and reached behind where the box had been; there were a half dozen thongs there. The thongs were silk-lined black leather for the twins, red leather for Karl, and capacious enough to fit without binding; the straps were long thin fabric strips ending in a flared disk of leather, that fastened to the pouch fronts by something a lot like a burr-thistle. Karl tried his out a couple times - Ripp-riip. "That's called Velcro, you may need to keep the hair cleaned out of the hook parts here," 'Raf said, pointing to the pads. "Well, you don't look quite so naked, but it's not really a major improvement for the local bounds of decency." He returned to the closet, muttering; "There's got to be, aha! found it." He came out with three white rectangles of cloth. "Hey, 'Raf, how many of these can we use," Anna interrupted. "Oh, however many you want. Just make sure you all get enough." He tossed one of the white folded rectangles to each satyr male. "This is some of my own stuff. Attuned cloth. I'll adjust it to each of you later, that oughta be fun," he grinned, "but for now, white will work. It's like the white surcoats that knights wear." He unfolded one, and flipped it over Dirk's head, finding the finely embroidered hole and fitting it around the rams' horns. It hung loosely over his body, reaching down to just above his knees. 'Raf reached in, at navel height, and touched the back and front pieces together, adjusting the fit. They stuck with the same "rip" sound as the thongs. "Why so high?" Dirk asked, adjusting it to fit tighter at the waist. "Cause of your tail, dude. It would look dorky makin' a lump at your butt there." 'Raf grinned, the ladies had already found the mirror in the other door. They had made silken halter-tops from the scarves, and something like sarong-style dresses slung low on their hips, but knotted so that their tails could get out without catching too much. "Lookin' good, ladies. Here, Dirk, see how this fits?" "Oh yeah. Well, where'm I gonna put mah belt? Gotta have a belt, ta carry stuff around, right?" "Hm. How about this?" 'Raf dug around in a drawer, and came out with a sort of shoulder-holster arrangement, but with a large flat wallet instead of a handgun. "Like it. Hard to steal." Parsifal Lucas had been watching this all with amusement. He stood, stretching, and tapped 'Raf on the shoulder. "Got anything in there for someone a little easier to fit?" "Sure, dude. Hey, you're gonna want work clothes, right?" "Whatever do you mean," Pars laughed. "Oh, you know, something to increase the mystery. You've got a good build, in a dancer sort of way. Let's see... How about the great romantic look?" He pulled out a blousy sort of piratical affair, large puffy sleeves, tighter but not constricting around the body, in jet black linen. It was slit at the throat, down to mid-waist. "Yeah, that's nice. And here's a thong for decency's sake, and a nice pair of white tights. You might want boots too. I wrecked the ones you had. How about this?" He pulled out a pair of shiny black soft-leather boots, knee-high. Pars tried them and they fit, better than any he'd had made for him. He spoke, voice kept deliberately light and flippant. "I'm curious, now. What's behind all this? How come these things all fit so well? Why do you have just exactly what we need?" "I'll come clean. It's solid illusion. I'll make it permanent and real once y'all get happy with it. I don't really like doin' that too much, but I owe y'all for screwin with your bods without permission." Pars blinked inside his reptile-scale eyes, then reached out a hand to touch 'Raf on the shoulder. "I understand why you feel you owe us, but you've given us a lot more consideration than the average wizard would have. We don't blame you for making us into what we fantasized about being. So don't feel bad, most of us are better off than we were before." "I hope you still think that after a year. Well, you all need to get more used to these bodies, to doing things _other_ than having sex in them. And I need to go practice my staff work. So is there anything else?" Anna grinned. "Anout the music you gave us. We've figured out some of it, even though there's concepts that just don't make any sense. We know what a beer commercial is, we figured out what a music video is, but one thing: what's a TV?" -o- In the garden, two children were moving weeds into a flat bucket so they could be replanted outside the walls. A golden figure moved out from the lighthouse into the shady side of the courtyard. 'Raelf had gone out there about an hour earlier, and was doing some complicated kind of jump-and-dodge-and-hit thing with a stick. After a few moments, the other was also doing the same thing, their movements exact mirrors of each other. Kev whispered to Little Rat. "That's 'Raf, he's Mister 'Raelf's brother." "Howcome he gots dose hairy feets like dat? An' da tail? He looks like one a dem cats I seen in da cage when da circus came down by da Low Town." Little Rat stared for a while, but then he waved a greeting at her so she waved back and returned to work. "He's a wizard, I guess. Mister 'Raelf tol' me dat he's got some kinda magic stuff on 'im an dat he's stuck, he's got ta have da animal parts." Kev carefully dug around a tuft of grass and put it into the bucket. "I don' like it, remin's me of da stories dey tol' us 'bout Creepy Charlie an' how he gots da diffrent parts like offa diffrent critters." "Well, he's a nice guy. He gots a band in da room down da hall from my room, dey's kinda loud. Dey's a goat-people band, like in da country. Dey plays good but it's da stuff dat's for da grownups." "I knowed dat. Dere was a goat-people boy in da carnabal. He knowed all about da grownup stuff but he knowed good dances too." Little Rat frowned and moved another little plant to the bucket. "Okay, I was jus' tellin' ya, don't hafta get mad. 'Sides, 'Elya was sayin' dese is nice folks." Kev looked at one of the plants in the bucket. "Let's take dese ones out now, dey's startin' ta get too dry." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu (christopher motherway) Subject: Bazzar hopping Message-ID: Date: Wed, 9 Jun 1993 17:17:52 GMT A particularly good day of bounty-hunting the day before made it possible for Sir Lance and Blaze to take the day off. So, leaving a message with Littlefair (in case Andrea showed up while gone; they were STILL waiting to "debug" her house upon her return), they headed toward the Bazaar for Blaze to do some shopping. They had no sooner entered the Bazaar area when they met up with Brycur. "HEY, SIR LANCE! BLAZE! OVER HERE!", screamed the merchant as soon as he saw them. The couple recognized the screamer and headed toward him. When they reached him, Lance said, "Brycur! How are you, my friend?" "Good as ever. Scars from that Raoh character all healed up. Yourselves?" "Fine. We decided to look around for a few things today. In particular, clothing for myself and jewelry for Blaze." "Beloved," said Blaze, "I see a nice jeweler over there. Mind if I go look through it?" "Blaze," answered her mate, "you need not ask. Go right ahead. I want to talk a little more with Brycur, and learn how he has managed after the storm." Blaze walked away from the two men towards the jeweler. Every time the storm is mentioned, even when she is not the one it is mentioned to, she always shuttered a little. The thought that the storm was the counter-spell to reviving Lance after the fight with Raoh still haunted her. But the fear has slowly diminshed day after day; she could not be _certain_ it was the counter-spell, and that comforted her somewhat. The jeweler spotted the beautiful archmage and said, "Ahhh, yes. Come here, my child. A lovely lady such as yourself deserves something very special indeed." Blaze smiled from the compliment and said, "Thank you, sir, but I am not looking for anything 'special'. Just some simple jewelry; a ring, earrings, perhaps another amulet will do fine." The jeweler said, "Ahhh, but what is 'simple' can also be 'special', m'lady. For instance, _this_ amulet was said to be taken straight from the Glacier itself." He held up a stunning amulet, a shimmering golden crystal that seemed to almost outshine the sun. Blaze looked at the amulet in awe. There was something to that crystal, something about it that attracted her. But she was not certain whether it was magical or simply its brilliance. "From the Glaicer, you say?" she asked after a long pause. "The person who brought it to me says so. He found this crystal and asked me to examine it. It is unlike anything I had seen. I paid him handsomely for it. It has been here for quite some time now. I thought it had been washed out in the storm. (Blaze shuttered again) But the man stated he had been to the Glaicer many times, and have not seen this kind of crystal before nor again." Blaze held the amulet and said, "It _does_ seem both 'simple' and 'special', sir. Perhaps more special than either of us knows. How much do you wish for it?" The jeweler said, "It has been priced and one thousand gold pieces ever since I received it. But for you, my dear, seven hundred will do." Blaze lifted up a small leather bag she had been carrying with her. Opening it, she counted out 700 gold pieces and paid the jeweler. The jeweler wished her well as she exited. Sir Lance met her as she was leaving the jeweler's sight. The amulet Blaze was now wearing caught his eye immediately. "Such a beautiful gem...for a beautiful woman! Looking at your bag, I would say that amulet cost a fortune." Blaze nodded and then added, "But there is something to it, Lance. Something about the jewel drew me to it. I may never know what, but it _is_ a special jewel." Lance then said, "And yet...simple." Blaze could not help but laugh a little at that remark. MagicHutchHeader Date: Monday, 7 Jun 1993 17:20:47 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93158.172047344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] The Waiting Game [ADMIN: Well, I'm back from vacation, if you could call it that, and finally ready to contribute again. The TWIR should be restarting tomorrow (I hope), and things may actually get back to normal for me this week. Anyway, _much_ thanks to the Dreamer and Stilt Man for their input/corrections in this...] The Gutt Man paced back and forth along the room, taking in its sights for the umpteenth time. As rooms go, it was large, but otherwise rather unnoteworthy, with walls of well-masoned and undecorated stone. There were boxes and other containers in stacks and piles all around, serving as the only sort of furniture, and allowing the light overhead to produce shadowy areas all around. But it wasn't the shadows or lack of comforts that bothered Gutt Man -- he like the former and had never really had the latter --, it was the lack of activity, and the somewhat close spaces, even in this warehouse BBD had stationed them in. Finally, he had had enough, and walked up to a group poised over diagrams that he didn't care to look at. "Pars," he demanded, "_when_ are we gonna face them? They must _pay_ for messing up my plans." His voice hollowed a bit, sounding a bit robotic, as he added. "And those of BBD." Parsephulas looked up from his rough sketches, and sighed. Now had he to deal with a claustrophic maniac. As if it wasn't bad enough that he was lucky Arcania hadn't killed him yet. Or that he was still basically surrounded by her Thurlans -- who seemed particularly vicious tonight, in what he hoped was just his imagination. Or that he was far from in good standing with BBD. "Patience, Gutt Man." He finally answered. "From what I know of Kryalla Simuel, they will come to us, she not being able to resist the opportunity to free another rebel." he pointed to Yosef, still bound, and slumped in a corner. "In the meanwhile, we can prepare for their arrival. For example, using these crates as an unexpected weapon." he smiled at that facet of his plan. "Why don't you go practice or something?" The Gutt Man's eyes glimmered at this, as if Pars had had the absolutely best idea in the world, and he scampered off to his "practice area." Within, there was a machine that could produce reasonable images, though it could not move or otherwise enhance them. It had been found among the storage, and mainly used to familiarize the Thurlans with their enemy, or at least their looks. But Gutt Man had become quite partial to it, his warped mind liking the idea of cutting people up, making it more real somehow. It had become one of his favorite activities, right up there with seeing how long he could torture a rat before its heart exploded. Parsephulas tolerated it kept Gutt Man out of his hair. He had gotten the impression that the child-killer would have by now attacked one of the daemons or he if it were not for the machine and the bracelet BBD collared him with. In fact, it had almost proven useful in a way. Yosef had been forced to watch the first few sessions, the savagery of Gutt Man's attacks intended to put fear into the rebel. But that ended when after such a session, Pars stopped to see the reaction, and found only a strange, nearly appreciative smile. * * * * Gutt Man wracked his brain in order to decide who he wanted to kill today, and how. Besides the pleasure he felt, it was also the best way to practice using his weapons -- the knife that he had found oh so long ago, and its complement that had been given to him by Velric. The first image was of a child -- a little girl, dressed in rags from head to toe, an expression that one only can get from the hard life on the street etched on her face. "Little Rat, you little brat." Gutt Man said. "Hit _me_, will ya? For dat, your death will come slowly... painfully..." The first word was emphasized by the left knife hitting the left lung area, and the second by a shot to the groin. As he twisted the bottom blade, and drew the top slowly from left to right, he added "So in the end you'll _beg_ me for release... da cleansing that is death." And with that, the left blade sliced thru what would have been the heart, while the right was yanked out with a grunt of content. The image shifted. It remained a girl, but became an older one, taller, with different facial features and better clothes. "Lissa. Fate took ya from me once, and my... benefactor did another time. But now all that's wanted is your blood!" He stuck one knife in the middle of her developing bosom. Then, as if expecting a scream, the other knife immediately cut into the throat, a blow that among other things would have severed the vocal cords. The Gutt Man turned away for a second, staring at his blades with glee. Then he realized they had no actual blood on them, and was anguished that he hadn't inflicted any real pain. Not only that, but the image had faded when his concentration had. Cursing some, he decided practice wasn't over yet, and thought up a final image. This one was of a man, appromixately six feet tall, with red hair, a dark green tunic, and a weapon on each side. "Lancos. I hate dat mage, Darvos, you was with too, but to me you're worse. Try to use two weppons on me? -- I can match dat now! Try to best me; stop my divine mission? Well then, dere's only one fate for you..." He stuck both knives into the gut -- still his favorite target -- and sliced a blade in each direction. As he imagined the man's intestines falling out, he did a mockery of a dance upon where he perceived them, and issued a hysterical laugh that even the Thurlans might have shuddered at. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu AKA Lancos Erredan SAQ: "The waiting game sucks!"-Homer Simpson MagicHutchHeader From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roaming] Reconnaissance Date: 9 Jun 1993 19:01:51 GMT Message-ID: <1v5c2vINN1q7@news.gac.edu> ADMIN: For your convenience, all dates have been translated into Terran Standard (USA version :-) MagicHutchHeader "7 June 1993, World: Nexus, Location: Unknown. "Wherever the Imperial Governor dropped me, it certainly is an interesting place. The life here seems to the blending of many different worlds, some I am familiar with, others I have never seen. This presents a fantastic opportunity to continue my studies of Chan-Da'all and her teachings. "The flora is about normal for this altitude and terrain. There are several different types of broadleaf trees and a mix of needle-bearers. I have managed to identify several different songbirds, also. Nothing I did not expect. "It is the smaller plants that amaze me. I only know about one in ten. Incredible, especially considering how well such types cross dimensional boundaries. Wherever I am, it is certainly far from home. "I suppose it would be prudent of me to keep some records of this journey. My companions will be interested. At the very least, I want to leave a legacy for the Lasy Ellen if I should fall. "Dawn of the Sixth found me on the banks of a moderately large river. {margin note: the Ceruputhon, I later learned.} Up in the mountains like this, I had no problem making my way along the bank. I spent a good 10 hours trekking along without incident, covering perhaps 25-30 miles. "Today was a little more exciting. I spotted several types of wildlife, including several dear and a black bear. Unfortunately, the deer were too skittish for my approach. But the bear and I observed each other for nearly half an hour while we went about the business of lunch. Luckily, the blueberry patch was large enough for both of us. Chan-Da'all truly smiled upon me today. "It is nightfall now. Something is amiss behind me. As I make my way further along the river, the land behind me falls silent. This may mean nothing, but the area I have now entered grows grimmer with each passing mile. Dead-falls and scrub brush abound. It becomes more and more difficult to follow the river bank. Today, I only managed about 12-14 miles in 10 hours. I will have to move inland tomorrow." ----- MagicHutchHeader "9 June 1993, World: Nexus, Location: Still unknown. "I am in definite trouble. My unfamamiliarity with this land has led me astray. The land I wondered into has been cowed by some force, perhaps an occupation by dark creatures. Fortunately for me, I detect no dark magics or powers. Flesh and blood are my only concerns. "Hah! Looking at that last paragraph, one might think I have nothing to fear. One would be wrong. "Yesterday, I spent the entire morning trudging through brush and ravines. I made perhaps three miles in five hours. But my followers had no such problem. Obviously, they know this land and its ways. "The entire afternoon I spent attempting to make contact. A futile effort. My shadows are crafty. They evaded my efforts with ease. Again, their knowledge of the land aids them. There is little or no spirit left here; Chan-Da'all cannot speak to me. I am left to my own devices. "A futile effort, but not fruitless. My shadows are four in number. I decided to seek aid. To that end, I stopped early. Rest was needed before I issued the Call. "My Call pounded home the emptiness of here. Of all the creatures to respond, only one was fit. The rest were either injured, sick, or scared. I now had a hawk companion. He probably was hunting or leaving when he answered me. But I was heartened, nonetheless. When the time came, I would not face danger alone. "Today was spent in prepartion. I have made myself as defensible as possible. The morning was spent in scouting, the afternoon, in repose. I know the lay of the land now. There are several area for me to hide, and two possible escape routes. I have found a good defensive spot and have rigged snares in the area. Tonight, I eat cold, and rest lightly. With luck, tomorrow will bring a confrontation and resolution." -Thaddius Farsinger "It's always darkest when you are alone, in the dark, and awaiting the enemy." ****************************************************************************** Sometimes, those you love most are the ones you have to leave behind. Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: [Roaming] Date: 9 Jun 1993 21:53:42 GMT Message-ID: <1v5m56INN3ce@news.gac.edu> Help! I have my copy of the Atlas here, but I can't find any references to the Ceruputhon or the Great Forest. If anybody has any information, could you please e-mail it to me? However, if neither of these are detailed, I would like to reserve them for my own development. Thanks. -Matt C. ****************************************************************************** Nuke 'til they glow, then shoot 'em in the dark! Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roaming] First Contact Date: 11 Jun 1993 04:45:42 GMT Message-ID: <1v92lmINNm7h@news.gac.edu> Dawn comes slowly to the foothills of the Mysty Mountains. From the western slopes, it first appears as a brightening beyond the peaks. The gloom thins, and shadows fade towards the mountains. Bit by bit, light creeps up the mountainsides, flowing into hidden nooks and crannies. Cold seeps out of the earth, replaced by warmth from the sun. With the cold goes the mists that give the mountains their name. All sorts of creatures disappear with the mists, some fair and some foul. But occasionally, something remains. A creature of the night who has business in the daylight world... ----- 'Dawn,' thought Thaddius Farsinger. 'Finally, something is going my way.' The half-elf crouched in the roots of a fallen tree. His concealment was welcomed. Remembering the events of the previous night, Thad was quite happy to still be breathing. *** He had been hoping for a confrontation at dawn, perhaps a wary meeting with whoever was trailing him. Instead, around midnight, something had gone barreling through his northern perimeter, something large. It had set off two snares and barely avoided a dead-fall. Thaddius had investigated. But he learned no more from his examination than from yesterday's. The creature was large, strong, and cunning. How cunning became immediately apparent. A hand closed about Thaddius's neck. Startled, he somersaulted forward and spun around. Green eyes narrowed at the sight before him: an ogre. It regarded him for an instant, sneering a little. Thad tightened the grip on his staff and waited. "What do you want?" asked Thaddius. It slapped the side of its club. "Dinner," said the ogre. "Elf trespass; elf DINNER!" Thaddius met the charge squarely. The underbrush and terrain left little or no room for maneuver. He parried the club's first descent, then cracked the ogre's knee. Howling in pain, the creature backhanded the half-elf. He landed a good 15 feet away and came to rest against a rotting stump. Shaking his head and attempting to get his bearings, Thaddius staggered to his feet. A sharp whistle and a "SKQWAAAARRR!" sent him diving for cover again. When he looked up, Thad saw his hawk companion hovering over an ogre-sized hole in the underbrush. The sound of running ogre floated back on the morning air. 'Enough,' thought the half-elf. 'One I can handle. But I know at least four are around. Time to depart.' Thad turned and bolted towards his camp. Along the way, he retrieved his pack, dropped when he left to investigate. Now would be a good time to leave, but several items remained at the main site. Thaddius burst into his campsight. A quick glance around, and he burst out. Two more ogres were going through his food and bedroll. Now was the time for distance. For several minutes Thaddius ran on, barely bothering with direction or destination. Then he slowed, catching his breath and listening. Nothing seemed to be following him. 'I'll cover a bit more distance, then go to ground,' Thad thought. After being up all night, then this mornings excitement, some rest was truly needed. So for the next half an hour, the half-elf made his way northwest towards the river. When he felt safe, Thaddius found himself a hiding spot and settled down. *** The sound of snapping brush awoke Thaddius from his memories. Peering through the roots about him, he saw a an ogre stalking along the edge of the clearing. Nothing else disturbed the land about them. This presented a wonderful opportunity to even the odds. Reaching into a pouch, Thad withdrew a sling and bullet. He stood carefully and readied himself. The sling began twirling. Just as the bullet was released the ogre turned to the sound. The creature only had time to look puzzled before impact. Its entire face imploded under the bullet, and the body fell flopping to the ground. Nodding in satisfaction, Thaddius scurried away. Another hour of cat-and-mouse followed. Thaddius would sneak through an area; the ogres would try to herd him towards one another. Eventually, exhaustion and numbers became to great. The half-elf was skirting the edge of another dry ravine when his luck ran out. Beneath him, the bank gave way, and Thad tumbled and slid down its bank. He skidded to a stop right on top of another ogre. There was barely time for Thaddius to ready his staff before the creature leapt. Flat on his back, Thad mananged to catch this ogre in the ribs and flip it behind himself. Scrambling to his feet, Thaddius brought the staff down on the ogre's head, vaulted the beast, and sprint down the ravine. The ogre did nothing to stop him. As Thaddius cleared the end of the ravine, he saw why. The last two ogres stood with clubs readied about 25 feet away. Upon seeing the fleeing half-elf, they charged. Frustration and exhaustion had finally taken there toll on Thaddius. He had tried talking; he had tried running. Now, there was nothing left to do but fight. "Chan-Da'all!" came Thad's cry for aid. His goddess answered and Thaddius felt her power flow through him. He gestured; an ogre stopped, paralyzed. With the instant left, Thaddius directed the last of the divine energy into his staff. The ogre wound up with a small stump of a club. Thaddius parried the blow, the struck the weapon hand. It shattered, causing the ogre to howl in agony. While it was distracted, Thad struck again, smashing ribs. He shifted his attack, trying to get behind the ogre. Several seconds later, it lay dead at the half-elf's feet. A cry from the far end of the cleariing. The paralyzed ogre was stirring, but had been unable to act because of the attacking hawk. Enraged at the bird, the ogre failed to notice its companion's death. Chan-Da'all's power exhausted, Thaddius reached inside himself instead. Calling his ally away, he pointed a hand at the remaining ogre and chanted. A spray of rainbows burst forth. They raced towards the ogre, knocking it senseless. As his last opponent fell, Thaddius dropped to a knee, exhausted. Closing his eyes, all he desired was rest. But Fate had other plans. The whistle was his only warning. Thad spun, raising his staff to block the descending blow. But it was futile. The blow drove him to his knees. A second snapped his staff and struck a glancing blow. Out of breath, drained of energy, Thaddius could only flinch as he dodged into a kick of the ogre from the ravine. As darkness descended, Thaddius Farsinger's last thought was: 'I have to much to live for...!' -Thaddius Farsinger "Death and love are a lot alike. Both will completely remake a person you thought you knew." ****************************************************************************** Sometimes, those you love most are the ones you have to leave behind. Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Bulletin Board Date: 11 Jun 1993 06:57:22 GMT Message-ID: <1v9aci$9br@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: Bulletin, board, admin -=- Dragon's Inn Bulletin Board -=- week ending 11-June-93 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NEW THIS WEEK: none -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OTHER ACTIVE POSTS: Posted by: Imports, Exports, and Arms (Jeremy Nelson, gujn@uniwa.edu.au) Content: WE apologize for any time distortions in the local area, however, due to testing of a device (Henceforward known as 'The Thing'), the local timestream has become dislocated. There is no danger, however some people may undergo slight disorientation. Some people may apparently find themselves in multiple locations at one time. We assure customers that this is not dangerous, and all time lines are in fact continuous, and will straighten themselves out in time. We recommend leaving early for any important appointments. Normal service will be restored tomorrow, yesterday, in three weeks' time, and in three hundred and thirty years. All complaints should be forwarded to: Imports, Exports, and Arms. We thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Moriarty (Aaron Humphrey, aaron@space.ualberta.ca) Content: |-------------------------------| | Moriarty Investigations, Inc. | | | | Magic and muscle at your | | service! No problem too large | | or small! Reasonable rates! | | | | 15A-Gamma Cor Caroli Lane | | Just off the Arcade of | | Unforgotten Heroes! | |-------------------------------| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Trawm (The Dreamer, asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Content: Attention all Real Men: If you is reading this then you is in the rong bar. Come to the Spitting Cobra were you can have a good time at a good prise. FITING ENKOURAGED. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Malthus Dela Noeuze (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Content: **************************************** ** Perfumerie Grand Veneur ** ** Is Seeking a Person To ** ** Find and Bring Back a Great ** ** Blooddrinker or Souleater ** ** For Perfumeric Substances ** ** All Contacts Considered ** ** ** ** Master Perfumerist Malthus ** ** Dela Noeuze ** **************************************** SPECIAL STATUS: Posted by: Zenith (Mike Bavister, mrhyde@netcom.com Content: ANNOUNCING THE A.P.D-I ARCHIVES I have been carefully recording all that has transpired here at the Inn and in Generica. I estimate that my archives are missing less than 1 in 100. The archives contain over 4600 chapters (articles) in 20 huge volumes (MB). Currently the archives are only indexed by Subject (Subject line), but my trusty scribes are hard at work attempting to compile a keyword-index by name, place, and "thread". Alas, this task may take a while. There are two methods by which you, the citizens of Generica, can access the archives (and their indexes). Via the Post-Office or by Magic. Via Mail: Send mail to the address below, with your request in the body of the message. I will then search the index(es) for you, and either mail you the matching "chapters" or a list of matches (if there are too many "hits"). Until the keyword index is compiled, I will be very reluctant to search the actual archives for your requests. TO: mrhyde@netcom.com. EXAMPLE: Dear Zenith, Please search your archives for all occurance of "Lancos" or "Zebron". Thanks. Via Magic: I have set aside a portion of my personal library for the Indexes and other materials of interest. If you know the powerful "FTP" spell, you can access the indexes directly. The arcane formula is listed below. This archive is "read-only", you may retrieve anything you like from it, but you can't place anything there. If there is something you'd like placed there for the benefit of all Generican citizens, let me know via mail. Do not forget to use "binary mode" for all not in ".txt" format. The FTP library currently contains: Subject indexes (no.1-no.3999) The Directory of Generica (latest edition) JourneyGarb flyer/catalog APDI FAQs (full and mini) And coming soon: The DragonQuest Saga *note* All ".zip" files are compressed using the latest state-of-the-art compression magic. Older uncompression magic may not work (use "zip19" or "pkzip2.04"). If you have any difficulty with either the transfer of files or decompression, please let me know. ftp netcom.com(192.100.81.100) login: anonymous password: (your e-mail address) cd /pub/mrhyde/APDI Cheers and happy reading ____ / __ __ o _|_ | / |__| | | | | |__ /___ |__ | | | |_/ | | Head Librarian of the Great Library of Generica -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- REMOVED THIS WEEK : none _________________________________________________________________________ ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Waste of Space Message-ID: References: Date: Fri, 11 Jun 1993 06:56:26 GMT [ADMIN] Sorry - the first part of this came out almost a month ago... If you want it I'll mail it on request. -o- Scorpion pulled himself tight against the parapet. He silently cursed the shaggy black wig that concealed his bald head, disguising him, but also distracting him and muffling the sounds of the guards at the gate. He wondered why 'Raelf, or Orim, as he insisted on being called, was so sure that it had to be HIM doing this operation. The governor and his latest doxy would be in the room upstairs. Taxes were coming in, and the legions were clamoring for their pay, as usual. But this particular greedy pig wasn't as canny as his predecessor had been. Raoh had never tolerated graft or incompetence, and it hadn't taken more than three or four demonstrations early on to curb it. Scorpion swallowed, remembering the boneless form of the beggar he had found still on display in the cage in front of the city, blasted by Raoh for his greed and then _changed_ by the tyrant's pet wizard. Kept alive as an example, though his keepers hadn't been feeding him well lately. The current fellow seemed even stupider than that beggar had been when he was governor. Or maybe just too greedy to care. In any case, it wouldn't matter. The guards were moving now. Scorpion snuck along the wall silently, knowing that they couldn't see him. Orim had given him a camoflage cloak for the tricky parts, and he blended completely with the wall. Their patrol pattern would leave the doorway unseen for a tenth of a second out of every ten minutes, but it was enough. He froze, they looked away, he was inside, frozen up against the wall. The inner tower guards followed a different pattern, it took him almost an hour to figure it out, but it left him a much wider opening. He was inside, in the courtyard, but not in the house yet. He cursed silently. Blink could have done this in a second, except that the building had been warded against teleportation. Orim could have gotten in, but he refused to act directly, said it would "alert those whose attention he would rather avoid," and said it in a way that made Scorpion feel sure he didn't want their attention either. So he was doing covert-ops again. Fine. He was right up to the door, and he knew that it wouldn't be the way to go in. He needed a distraction. He put the long thin whistle to his lips, blew a hard inaudible note. Nolrimm would hear, and maybe small dogs and cats... There was some barking in the distance, but he heard nothing. After a few minutes, he heard the crashing of boxes down by the storage barn, and shouts and imprecations. Nolrimm and Blink, as planned, getting a good half of the guards out of his way. Up the wall. He jumped, catching the ledge fourteen feet above with his hands. When 'Raelf put him back together after that business with Seer's Mother, turned him back from being a bug, he'd been given a strength boost to bleed off the excess power from his energy sting. It was useful sometimes. A pull-kip-flip and he landed silently in the hallway above. The door to the room was there on the left. No sound came from inside, in the baking heat of the late afternoon. Anyone with sense was asleep. The governor was out cold, and his personal guard was drowsing by the door. Scorpion gently extended one hand to a point just inches away from the guard's head, let the power flow to his fingertips, and with a very quiet ZOTX the guard stiffened, then slumped. The headache when he woke might remind him to stay alert next time. The governor and his girlie were in the usual tangle on the bed, and Scorpion frowned in annoyance. They were too close together, the girl would wake up. He removed a small glass flask from a leather wallet inside the front of his vest. Holding his breath, he took the tiny cork out, letting the fumes from the flask drift across their sleeping faces. With a cough and a jerk, their eyes both flew open, but a blank sort of stupidity soon looked out - they just lay there, stunned by the drug. Scorpion replaced the cork, and waited a few seconds for the fumes to clear, before taking in a gasping breath. He turned the governor onto his back, looking for a good spot for what he had to do. There, under his left arm, the ribcage, there was some fairly hairless skin. He pulled a wax-wrapped pellet from the wallet, and placed it in the staring man's mouth, between his teeth, setting it in such a way that he could bite down on it easily. The potion inside was half of Orim's spell of control. He turned the henna-haired woman on her side, so she couldn't see what he was doing, and gently closed her eyelids so her eyes wouldn't dry out before the drug wore off. Another dip into the wallet and he produced another small glass flask, and a metal disk which he set onto the governor's skin on the bare patch. "This is gonna hurt," he said conversationally. The governor couldn't respond, though he could hear, and it was courtesy to warn him. One finger popped the cork off the flask while another rested on the metal disk. As the fumes from the flask counteracted the earlier drug, Scorpion allowed a surge of power to leak from his finger into the disk, heating it to a faint red. Smoke hissed up from the skin. The governor gasped and bit down, then swallowed convulsively as he crushed the wax pellet holding the potion. Something cold ran down his throat and met the heat from the metal disk, and formed a sound inside him that was full of some incomprehensible meaning. Scorpion picked the disk up off the freshly branded spot, wrapping it in a rag of leather. His fingers might be heatproof, but the rest of him wasn't especially fond of being burned. He returned the flasks to the wallet, along with the branding disk. The seared skin was flushed red, a complex symbol. Scorpion wiped a bit of salve from another bottle out of the wallet, onto the burned area, and it healed almost in an instant. The man's eyes grew wide but he could not move. "Good. Now, neither of you will remember any of this when you wake up. But you've got a new boss now. You think now that Raoh is dead, you got it made. You'll find out though. Now both of you, go back to sleep." The governor's eyes closed. Scorpion returned the wallets to its place along the small of his back and pulled the camoflage cloak around him, activating its magic again. The route back out was just as long and tedious as the way in had been. Of course, there were more guards in the outbuildings than before, trying to figure out why the stone arches of the main doors had collapsed. Teleporting keystones into the fishpond tended to make the arches less stable, but Scorpion wasn't about to tell them that. Blink was waiting with Nolrimm at the old cottonwood clump, and they returned to headquarters in less time than it took to exhale. "Report?" Orim was leaning back in his chair behind his desk, some complicated diagrams scattered across the top of it. His boots were resting on the edge of the desk as he balanced on two feet of the chair, a strange undecipherable expression on his face. "Success, of course. One pig of a governor branded with the control pattern, no unusual problems. We had to use the second plan for the distraction though." Scorpion tossed the leather wallet onto the table, and sat down on the edge of the couch that Orim had installed for visitors. He tore the stupid black disguise wig off, revealing a bald head and a black, red, and gold abstract tattoo on his head. "So where's Rook," he continued, "Off on another solo run?" "Oh, she's around. Somewhere. Today's her day off." "Well, that explains where Blink vanished off to. Hey, Nolrimm, get your hinder over here." Scorpion waited for the winged man to join him, and they stood. "We have some questions." "Ah. You remember that I did say no questions when we started this." "Well, I don't recall agreeing to that point. Up to you if you want to answer, right?" Scorpion stared down at the elf. "Very well. What do you want?" The elf narrowed his eyes to fiery green slits, and began toying conspicuously with a dagger. "I've learned a lot from you about covert work, the last few weeks. But I still don't know _why_ we're doing this? What's the profit?" Orim laughed. "You know, I had the same thoughts myself not too long ago. Lads, I'm going to let you in on a secret. I'm on the lam from myself. Remember the thing in the Shun?" Nolrimm grunted, fluffing his wing feathers. "Yeah. Seer's Mother. This got anything to do with her? Cause if it does I'm out a here." "No, no. Something much worse, in its own way. Something like god wars, only more subtle and far-reaching. Well, I, that is, the 'kan fellow you know from Generica, got caught up in it. Comes from being too quick to volunteer, I guess. So we got into it, and I, that is, the elf you've come to know and love, am one of the side-effects of the battle." In a smooth motion, he stood, and started juggling the daggers he was playing with before. The blue gemstone bound to his brow began to glow faintly. "I don't know if we really need to know this stuff," Scorpion began, nervously, but the elf continued speaking. "A long time ago in a world far away, before he became the fellow you know, the 'kan traveller you met in Generica was visiting my world. I thought he was just a wandering demon, of some unusual sort, and I conjured him into my compelling circle. I had this idea, you see, that I could use him against a political enemy. Well, he proved harder to control than I had thought, and we battled. He tore me apart in a thoroughly unpleasant and excruciating way, and spit my ghost out into the spirit world naked and maimed; I understand it was taken straight to one of our uglier hells. But there were little bits of me left, which he kept as a souvenir." Nolrimm and Scorpion exchanged glances but decided that trying to get away might not be effective right now. "Wise fellows," he said, nodding. "Now, the entity that was fighting with the traveller back in Generica found these bits of my spirit lodged in the soul of the traveller, and he re-grew me from them. Once I knew that was what happened, it was quite a shock, you must understand. But I'm accustomed to the idea now." "So what does this have to do with us," Scorpion asked, "going around and branding the assholes in government here?" "Ah. Well, I'm not completely myself alone. I'm also the fellow you knew. He's idealistic, as I am, but where I used to believe that the elven race should by nature rule over all others, he doesn't see the distinctions, and I'm afraid after I went through his memories that I quite agree. Oddly enough, we're quite compatible personalities, if only things had been different. It took me several weeks, you know, but I finally found out what was driving me to our subtle conquest. I'd been following the orders of that entity that was fighting the traveller. It twisted the fellow's concern for others into an utterly arrogant attitude that said HE knew best about how they should live." "Sounds like a typical mage to me," Nolrimm muttered. "Or maybe priest." "Be that as it may," the elf smiled, changing the three-over juggling pattern to a four-under, "I was not about to let anyone else decide for me how I would be thinking, so I removed the compulsion. Oh, there's still some vestigial bits of it about, but the elvish mind is not easily subject to compulsive magics and I _am_ an expert on the topic." He executed a difficult double-flip flourish, and continued. "Even tho the whole idea of our covert conquest came from someone else, I did get started on it, and I'm not one for sloppy work, and this power vacuum is much too much interesting an opportunity for me to ignore. So if you don't mind continuing to take my money, we're going to finish the job, although I've changed some of the general goals a little bit." "The pay's good," Nolrimm shrugged. "Keeps me fed and pays the bills at the cuddlecribs. I'm for it. How 'bout you, Scorp?" "I'd like to know what your long term goals are, but yes, count me in for the money. Besides, like I said, I'm learning a lot from you about how to do covert. You're sneaky." Scorpion made it into a compliment. Orim smiled a close-lipped smile and the daggers vanished from the pattern, one by one, into the secret pockets where he hid them. "Good. I'm glad you've both made the right choice. But don't tell Rook, just yet. She's a little too unpredictable, you see. She has this streak of lamentable honesty, her honor might require her to inform my other self, so to speak, and all this would be over." Scorpion grunted assent. "So tell me, boss, what's our next target?" Orim glanced at one of the arcane charts on his desk, and made a comparison against another smaller chart. "The lord mayor of Athelstan, Cedrik, seems to think that he can put his own army together now that Raoh's army is enjoying the standard internal chaos. We don't want to lessen that chaos, because we want our people in control eventually, but Cedrik can't be allowed to build a long term power base. So we're going to let him build the army, since they're needed right now anyway, but all the commanders are going to be our men." Nolrimm laughed and clapped Scorpion on the shoulder. MagicHutchHeader From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roaming] Second Contact Date: 11 Jun 1993 18:52:52 GMT Message-ID: <1vaka4INN2e4@news.gac.edu> High in the Mysty Mountains, an ogre stood over the fallen body of his enemy. It had taken several days, but he and his clan-mates had finally run the trespasser into the ground. Only two ogres survived, though. It would take a long time for the trespasser to die. A hunting scream rang out from above, jerking the ogre's head around. It had just time to catch the glint of sunlight off claws before the hawk put out an eye. Wheeling up and diving, the hawk continued its assault, determined to drive away this enemy. But the ogre would not budge. It stood over its prey, lashing out with fist and club at the annoyance attacking it. Niehter took notice of the surroundings until a squeaky voice rang out, "Longflyer, away!" The hawk recognized the voice as a friend. It soar up and towards the voice. The ogre took an instant to get its bearings, then turned towards the noise. TTTTHHHHHHHHHWACK! TTTTHHHHHHHHHWACK! A look of surprise crossed the ogre's face when two arrows embedded themselves in its chest. It took a step forward, stumbled. Rising, it sprouted a third arrow, then a fourth, as death claimed it. Out of the brush stepped Thaddius's benefactor. He raised an arm and squeaked, "Longflyer, to me!" The hawk circled once, then landed on the provided perch. Said perch turned to the motionless Thaddius. It poked him several times with its bow, circling cautiously. "Come on, human, wake up," it said. "You owe Pheu money for saving you. Come on, get up." Discouraged by the lack of reation, the small being kneeled next to the victim. Both hands grasped the Thaddius's right side and rolled him over. "Elfs!" exclaimed the Pheu in surprise. "I saved an elfs. This not good, not good at all..." Its comments fading off into muttering, the creature set down its bow and began tending Thaddius's wounds. For several minutes this continued, accompanied by the occasion muttered, "Bad, bad. Not good at all." After it finished, the creature set about fashioning a litter. It took out an axe and had cut two large limbs when something caught its attention. Cursing fluently, the Pheu spun around. Across the clearing, the fourth ogre was just beginning to stir. Snatching its bow from its back, it loosed two more arrows. The ogre thudded back to the ground. Pheu closed the distance cautiously, determined not to repeat Thaddius's mistake. When he reached the fallen ogre, the little creature kicked in soundly. Nothing stirred. Taking out his axe again, Pheu split the ogre's head. "Not gonna let any ogre sneaks up on ME." Cleaning his axe, the creature turned once more to the fallen half-elf and began prepartions for moving him to a safer location. -Thaddius Farsinger "Strange things come in small packages." ****************************************************************************** Sometimes, those you love most are the ones you have to leave behind. Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [MG] Turning Around Message-ID: <1993Jun12.023141.2788@data-io.com> Date: Sat, 12 Jun 1993 02:31:41 GMT [ADMIN: This was written by Stephen Hutchison and I. Thanks, Hutch!] ---- "River, show me how to float I feel like I'm sinking down Thought that I could get along But here in this water My feet won't touch the ground I need something to turn myself around." "Washing of the Water" - Peter Gabriel --- Kardia's bedroom was as she had left it. The closet still half open, and a few piece of skirt on the floor, where the shawl might have looped on itself when the cloth had been imaginary. Kardia picked the pieces up and reflexively put them down the recycling chute. She grinned and ran the tip of a finger along the triangular arrows. The staff leaned against the kitchen counter, the bow and quiver went on the table, the bags onto the floor of the closet, and the harp, in its case, was left on the gel bed. Clothing was kicked all over the place, and a drawer slid open and Kardia smiled to find exactly what she expected to find in it. She pattered back to the main room in her bare feet as she tied the white belt to close the gi over a black t-shirt and the loose white trousers. The gold foot was disconcerting for her to look at, so she didn't. It was also really odd to walk in bare feet after so long with her shoes and socks on almost constantly. The carpetting felt wonderous under her feet. She realized that the right foot was calloused from its boot because of the spots where she couldn't feel the texture of the carpetting. The metal of her left foot didn't slide on the carpetting anymore than the right one did. It did click on the flagstones. There were two fox women in the main room, curled up together on a couch with a man that glittered. One of the women smiled at Kardia as she walked through. Kardia nodded and smiled in response and kept going. They had been there when she'd come through the first time and while she had been fascinated by the glitter of the man, she remembered enough of the party to still be a touch uncomfortable with getting too close to them. When she reached the area where the satyrlion had been practicing the kata, Kardia hesitated. There was a red headed satyr with 'Raelf, a big, muscular satyr, in a thong-style swimsuit. At least he wasn't totally naked today. Karl, she thought and then strode in, unconsciously smoothing her stride, years of training coming back on-line. This was a dojo, no matter the surroundings, the appearances of those involved. Kardia couldn't believe how good it felt to just walk up, stand at an at-ready position on the edge of the lawn, breath deeply and relax into the stance. She found herself grounding when 'Raelf caught her eye. She smiled a brilliant smile at him and bowed, crisp, clean and consise. "'Raf, what do you mean, learn how to fall?" Karl asked a note of disbelief in his voice. The satyrlion 'Raelf returned her bow and Karl looked over his shoulder to see who it was for. A golden hand pushed gently against the bronze red shoulder. Karl yelled, his arms windmilled and he fell, hitting the ground flat on his back. Kardia winced at the bone jarring impact. "Hey! Why'd you do that?" "You asked me about falling, dude. Kardia, please come here? Karl, you stand over there by the edge of the lawn." Kardia nodded and walked foward, feeling the adrenaline gradually mounting in her system like a spring winding gradually tighter. She was surprised to find that the hands of the satyrlion were more pawlike than she'd remembered and that he had a mane about his face. He'd grown fur over his body, too; the gently misting rain was beading slightly in the fur. He bowed again, "Domo o-nagaishimas'? - Will you practice with me?" She returned the bow. "Throw your favorite punch" She set, turned, and from her waist snapped a punch at his midsection. He stepped sideways, one hand catching her just behind the wrist, pulling her forward the instant she comitted the energy to the strike. The hand guided her forward while his other hand came up in a strike at her side, which she instinctively blocked hard with her left fist, and somehow she was off balance as he knelt down and she grinned as she tucked, went down and rolled with the fall on the soft ground. Easy. 'Raelf bowed and turned to Karl. "That's the art of spirit harmony. There are some others, which I won't be teaching you right away, because you should only practice one style at a time until you get some degree of mastery, otherwise the different purposes in each art can get to cross-purposes, and that will screw you up and really make a mess out of your reflexes." Kardia came up to her feet as he was speaking, the grin still in place. She breathed deep and schooled it to a more sober expression. "You two are at different levels of skill. Karl, you have less formal training in the arts, so while we're here practicing, you will pay attention to what Kardia does, as well. No, don't make faces. Every school that trains fighting works this way." He nodded to Kardia, again. "Now I need to know what styles you've studied, so I can tell what needs to be done first." "I've mostly been taught various styles of karate, borrowed from the Japanese style and Korean or Tae-kwon Do. I'm not belted in any of that, mostly learned for self-defense's sake. My teacher was mostly into the strike based arts, but taught me how to defend, some, against the wrestling arts. I've always wanted to learn aikido." "Good. Oh, and for confusions' sake. I'm 'Raf; my twin brother who's all the way human is 'Raelf. I'll tell you more about it later." Kardia nodded, eyes narrowing for an instant. "Hai." "Now, we're going to practice some simple things. Karl, I was showing this to you earlier. This is the unbendable arm, it's an exercise to develop your awareness of your ki flow." He set Kardia and Karl opposite each other, face to face. He took Kardia's left arm, and straightened it out, resting her wrist on Karl's shoulder, hand palm-up. Then he placed Karl's hands together on the inside of her elbow. "Gently. This is an exercise, not a macho trip. Karl, you will be pressing down here, trying to bend her elbow. Kardia, you don't want your elbow to bend. OK, let's try it." The satyr's shoulder was smooth and hard under the back of her hand. She tensed herself for the pressure, and when his hand came down at the crook of her elbow she tried to fight it. Her whole body tensed in the effort but her elbow bent under the force of the downward pressure. She frowned and looked up. Karl grinned at her and winked. His smooth skin and hands were hot under her touch. Kardia went white, thrown out of her sense of this being only training situation. Her fear froze her for a moment, and Karl's expression changed to surprise. "Kardia, you're losing your center," 'Raf said, and he reached in and tweaked Karl on the nose. "You. Stop reaching. No sending out feelings, that's not what we're studying right now." Karl looked sheepish and Kardia felt the heat ease up. "Now, Kardia, I want you to close your eyes, and find your center, the way you did when you were punching at me." Kardia shivered once, then closed her eyes. She reached for her sense of her body and let its familiar balance and tactile senses calm her confused emotions. She settled back over her hips. She felt her knees bend a little, her chin go down just a touch. Her back straightened from when she'd bent to the side, trying to apply its strength to keeping her arm up. She breathed and relaxed her shoulders, and willed her fear out with each breath. "Good." 'Raf's voice made it easily to relax even with the warmth of Karl's shoulder under her hand. "Now, breathe, keep the energy flowing in to your body, down to your center, then back out to all your limbs, like water in a fire hose." Kardia breathed deep, down through her diaphragm as she'd been taught, feeling the muscles of her abdomen do the work. She tried to imagine the flow of energy as he described it and believed that she felt something as she breathed out and then in again. "Now let it go out, through your hand, it's being replenished, no problem, good. (ok, Karl, now)" Kardia felt a light pressure against her arm, but it wasn't hard. It grew stronger, but nothing like before. She opened her eyes, to see Karl struggling, pushing down with all his strength. "I think she's got it," 'Raf said quietly. "Relax, Karl." "My turn now?" Karl asked, grinning. "Go ahead. First try it with just raw muscle." Karl's grin got even wider, and when his hand was in place, he tensed his arm, watching Kardia frown as she placed a hand at the hollow where his bicep curved down to the inside of his elbow. She began applying pressure, and his grin gave way to gritted teeth after a minute or two, and with a sudden sag, he gave way. "Not bad," 'Raf said. "Strong boy. Now totally relax the arm, just let it rest on her shoulder. You remember what I was telling you earlier about breathing, go ahead." Karl shifted his stance slightly, and at 'Raelf's nod, Kardia started the pressure again. It was like shoving against the limb of a tree. "Good. You practice that feeling on your own, Karl, while I find out how good Kardia is at ukemi. That's falling practice, by the way." Karl moved off to the "rest" line while Kardia faced off against 'Raf again. "You're Uke right now, I'll let you practice tossing me around in a bit. For now, attack in whatever combinations you like. Let's start with the punch again." With a grin and a sudden snap, Kardia struck at his midsection, to be thrown again exactly the way she had been before. When she came back up, he waited a moment, and her lunge was met by a swifter throw, to the side. Kardia concentrated on following the force of it, curling her body and taking the force of the impact across her entire side and shifting it through her movement so that it spread some more. She rolled back up onto her feet and faced him again. "Hold. Nice reaction but you took that as a breakfall. There's no reason to waste the energy, if you can use it. Keep your ki flowing, the fire-hose running through your body, roll along with the ground." Kardia blinked at the idea then nodded and smiled. "Ok, let's continue." He sank into an open-handed ready stance, and she launched an attack at his left side. The throw took her arcing over the top of him. It took effort, this time, to smooth it through, so it ended up more awkward than she liked. As she rolled, she felt/saw/heard his presense behind her, and when she reached her feet she lashed out with her shining left foot. He caught the foot, guiding it into a high kick that flipped her backwards. Kardia kicked with her right foot, adding more of her own energy into the force of the throw. She pushed with it in order to curve the fall to the side. She hit the ground rolling off her right shoulder, at a diagonal from the original throw, with enough force to put her instantly back on her feet. Kardia bounced onto her feet, slamming out a double- fist strike high-and-low; the high strike missed and she felt that furred hand on her low wrist. All the balanced power of the gold furred body added to the force of her strike, moving it off to the side. This time she grabbed hold of the hand that held her wrist as she planted her center in the earth and used it to double the force of 'Raelf's forward throw. They both left their feet. She let go the minute she felt too much pressure against the leverage joint and found herself rolling to her feet in nearly a perfect mirroring of his turning roll. Kardia grinned, she'd landed feet two shoulder widths apart, facing her teacher, knees bent, arms slightly spread for balance, her body at ready for whatever he might do next. "Wow." said Karl from the edge of the grass. Kardia panted gently in the slow drizzle, and felt herself gently blush at the single word of praise from Karl. Her eyes were only on 'Raf's eyes, which were the color of new turned earth. She had rarely felt a connection to the earth in her practices. Alistair had spoken of grounding, of centering oneself in the earth, but she had never felt that centering quite so clearly. "Good." 'Raf bowed, grinning again, sharp feline teeth at the corner making his smile look predatory. "The ground is getting too wet to do this safely here. Would you like to come inside to one of the game rooms?" "Sure," Karl said. Kardia bowed her assent and when their positions broke, she wiped the sweat and rain out of her eyes. "Kev, you and Little Rat can finish that later, we need to go inside now, so you two go get cleaned up. Your lunches are on the table in the dining room." 'Raf waited for them to put the tools away, then patted them affectionately on the heads as they went inside. As they moved inside, Kardia studied Karl and realized that she wasn't afraid of him anymore. The single word, and working through her fear with the Centering technique had made the fear go away. She grinned to herself a little as they moved inside. Karl caught her eye as they walked and lifted an eyebrow in inquiry. She just smiled and shrugged. The second room on the left in the hall was the one he took them to. The door said "dojo" in Japanese kanji, but it didn't really, and Kardia blinked. It was more of that strange self interpreting writing. They went inside, to find a big bamboo room with a floor covered with a tightly woven grass mat. On the far wall, a large brushstroke letter on butcher paper, "Harmony" in the old Chinese style script. The satyrlion bowed slightly and entered; Kardia bowed as well, so Karl decided to follow their example. "OK, Karl, you start practicing the rolling fall. Like this," and he reached forward and in a smooth movement, rolled across his back and up to a standing position again. Karl duplicated the movement with little effort, and at 'Raf's nod of approval started rolling back and forth across the room. "I'm not sure what attacks you know," 'Raf said to Kardia as they moved to the center of the room. "I expect you know some of the standard counterattacks and combination maneuvers. I could show you more of the aikido moves, but I think for right now it would be better for you to practice defending from me. Don't worry about us hurting each other, the game room will protect us if we get too rough." "How so?" Kardia asked, uncertain. "Has a two second look-ahead and something like an air bag system only more creative. If the possibility of harm gets to be more than .70 it sounds a warning, and if it exceeds .85 it turns on the protective mode." He blinked slowly. "Before we start. You were doing good at getting grounded. Don't push too far into that feeling, though, or you'll tie yourself too much to the ground and reduce your mobility. You'll know the feeling, your feet will seem sticky; practice will show you the limits. Are we ready?" "Ready." She dropped into cat stance, then realized that it might be playing to his strength. His first strike was almost comically slow and telegraphed, and she blocked it aside with ease. She followed through with the strike that usually paired with the block, and was unsurprised when it was blocked neatly. The second strike was a bit faster, but still easy to decide which block to use. This one, however, blocked him to an open position so she didn't follow through and got a smile for her distinction. She shifted to a more basic stance, and he came at her with a series of standard fist to upper body strikes. She blocked at full force because he wasn't coming slow and his strikes were on target. Upper right, upper left, then lower line right, lower line left. Faster now. Strikes to either side of the face, then down by the thighs, just fist strikes. All of them placed so that the automatic block would leave him in an open position, so she didn't have to worry about riposting. Again. They ran through the series three more times. She remembered hours of doing this stuff until it was automatic, but now she tried to use the ki flow idea that 'Raf had given her in the garden in conjunction with the force flow of the simple blocks. The next twist was double strike combinations, one to a standard area, the other along one of the decision lines. 'Raf slowed things down again, as she adjusted to the new twist. The standard strike was automatic, so she could concentrate on which block she wanted to use on the peskier second strike. With the way she'd been taught, if a strike was above her waist she did a certain block, if it were below, she did a different block, another such line was about at shoulder height and another ran vertically that divided right and left. Now he tested how fast she could decide which block to use on strikes in those lines. Also, with the doubled strikes, there were more and more opportunities for her to close his stance and take a shot at his shoulders or side. But most of them disappeared before she could take them. Gradually, he speeded things up. Two hard shots got through on her defense at shoulder and hip before she allowed herself to let go and not *think* each one through. She went with the flow. Two fists, one touched to the left, the other crossed center just to the left. Turned both to the left. Closed. Whirled with a roundhouse kick low, snapped full around. The glint of gold met only air. A paw-like foot came in at waist level. Pushed with and the foot went up and around to the left. A snap kick and the other paw-foot sped up from below. V-step. Still open. Lift. He flipped. The arc of the movement a beauty she hadn't seen... A blade strike, she slid-stepped out of the way then in. Closed. She twisted from the waist to put her hip behind her fist in the followup strike to his side. It landed, hard. She heard the expellation of his breath. A second punch was taken by his hand and guided to the side. Kardia felt herself falling and she rolled with it. He didn't let go of her wrist. Kardia ended up locked on the floor with her wrist between her shoulder blades. She flailed and bucked, but she was held firmly. She was helpless. A tone sounded. She flashed to her upper body being held in exactly the same position when her foot was hacked off and paniced. She started a movement that might have wrenched her shoulder from its socket, except that 'Raf had let go. She scrambled to her feet, ungraceful but no longer helpless. Her panic stopped. The tone ended. Kardia stood there, sobbing for breath and looked into eyes golden with concern. She shook her head. "I'm sorry," she said and shook her head again, trying to clear it. "Recent history..." Kardia tried to get her breathing under control. "Slavers..." she was a little dismayed by how flat her tone was. "Helplessness does that to me, right now." 'Raf nodded, and something in his eyes made it possible for her to keep talking, telling him something that she hadn't told anyone else in Generica. Karl was in the far corner, shaking his head from dizziness after another string of rolls and the sight made Kardia relax and grin in sympathy. Even so she spoke softly. "They gave me no room for any of these skills at first, and after... the foot," she swallowed, "I was pretty broken. That's how I got away from the pens, finally. Two other maimed slaves and I weren't watched, we took off when someone who was sorry for me stole my seeds and raw fiber back for me. I was... night eyes and ears while they helped me walk away. We got to Sidia's family's home; and after I healed up, they gave me enough to journey a couple cities away. Maimed slaves aren't that valuable, so I wasn't looked for." A weight felt like it was coming off her shoulders. Kardia wasn't sure why, but it had something to do with the way 'Raf was frowning. "A Weavers' Guild took me in and in three months sent me on my way." The corner of her mouth twitched upwards, "Politics." 'Raf smiled in answer to her grin. He just stood there and rubbed his side where she'd hit him for a moment. Then he said, "Do you need to stop practice for now?" Kardia thought a moment then sighed and wiped away the sweat. "No. I think I'd like to try one more exchange, with something like grounding and see if it's any better." "Good." 'Raf paused a moment, "Would you want to never feel helpless again?" Her eyes widened, then narrowed. Finally, she shook her head. "No. I don't think that's possible without denial. I'll always lose to someone, somewhere, and to deny that, to not ever feel helpless even if I am would be... well..." she shrugged, "I don't know. It just doesn't feel right, somehow. I think what I need to do is figure out how not to panic at it, is all." She sighed and looked at the mat. "Sounds good." Kardia looked up at the words to see 'Raf's smile. His eyes were the color of where sky and sea met. "Ready?" Kardia took a horse stance, basic, balanced and breathed deep. Her body would be sore after all this; but it felt good, now. "Ready." He bounded straight at her. A split second of complete confusion at the unrecognized attack and she sidestepped without getting anything in. But she watched his center and was able to see and intercept the circling strike he laid down after he was by. She took it against a forearm, and as it still left him open, she waited. The second was a double strike, foot and fist, and she blocked with shin and arm. She was too close to completely unwind a strike, so she stepped back, disengaged. He came with a high kick, she blocked it to the side and did a front kick, toes curled back, ball first, aiming for his chin. As soon as she unleashed the kick, his hand was up, pushing it over her head. She kicked with her left foot to add force into the flip. They ended up back to back. Kardia reached deep, getting that feeling of energy coming from her center, and whipped around to her right in a slashing attack. Her hands rigid, bladed, her legs deeply bent and spread for best leverage. She saw 'Raf flow out of her way, as if she were simply shadow to his smoke. The gentle touch of the edge of his hand against her forearms as he literally brushed away her attack was as clearly imprinted on her mind as the push he gave to her right shoulder. Even as she lost her position, she found that she didn't lose her balance, a sense of her grounding, her center. She rolled, and came up just in time to see the foot coming for her face. She blocked, straight up with her left fist twisting to allow ki into the flow of the block. The kick rolled like rain off to her left. Using the withdrawal of her left fist as the counterbalance, she punched straight into 'Raf's torso with her right. She hit something that felt like gel that flowed around her fist. It surprised her, and 'Raf scissored her with his legs and she hit the mat. He held her trapped, and panic started again, but something inside her said <> so she did, and the panic faded away, the energy still flowed through her, into her center, out. She relaxed. "Very good. You would have tagged me without the safety system." 'Raf rolled back into a standing position. This time he did not offer her a hand up. Kardia got to her feet, and they bowed to each other. The sweat stung in her eyes. "Why don't you take a shower? I'm going to work with Karl for a while longer, and you have an appointment at the Mages' Guild with 'Raelf and Dasham to discuss her curse in about..." 'Raf glanced down at his fur covered arm, "two hours. The spinning wheel in your room is now real, if you need to get something done before then." Kardia nodded and then bowed a very low bow. "Thank you." she said softly and then ran for the door. She bowed to the dojo before turning and leaving. Then she let loose a grin that felt like it stretched from ear to ear as she ran back up to her room. -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader From: peters@physics.ubc.ca (Dan Peters) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] Am I quite sure about this? Date: 12 Jun 1993 22:00:55 GMT Message-ID: <1vdjmnINNed3@iskut.ucs.ubc.ca> Keywords: BBD, Kaalzic > Taking his leave from the table, the black cloaked ranger left the inn. It seemed to Kaalzic that this was the appropriate moment for him to leave also, so he muttered "see you all tomorrow" and went upstairs. Things had gone remarkably well - he had succeeded in taking part in a conversation with four other people, (or five, counting the newcomer at the end), without panicking. The scary thing was, he had also agreed to join them in whatever they were up to, with very little knowledge of who they were or what they were like. But there was the matter of the bracelets - evidence that Myrnien was somehow mixed up in all this. And clearly, joining this group was the only feasible way he could find her. Another troublesome thing was that one of the apparent "enemies" was some kind of wizard. This, for Kaalzic, was definitely something to be feared. On the other hand, his new acquaintances seemed quite confident in what they were doing. , he told himself. That last thought was something worth pondering further. Taking what he had heard at face value, there was likely to be danger - and Kaalzic had very little fighting experience. He entered his room, sat down on the sleeping mat, and picked up one of the old books he had brought from the wreckage of his cabin. It was a collection of sacred poetry, written by the prophets, and it was one of the very few possessions which he had brought with him through all his journeys. He opened it to a random place in the middle, but instead of reading, his mind wandered. He thought of home. He remembered the last time he saw Myrnien. The scene of the argument was their father's library. The participants were Kaalzic and his sisters. Myrnien, the rebel, tall, strong, sharp of wit; she was now in Generica. And Thalei, quiet and reserved, whose smile (it was said) could make the sun appear; she was now dead. It seemed so petty now, that they could have been so divided by a philosophical argument. It was, more than anything else, Thalei's brutal death before Kaalzic's own eyes (a few years later) that had convinced him that Myrnien might after all have been right. Never mind that with his lack of skill, to fight the attackers would have made no practical difference. He could never forgive himself for not even having tried - for having stood still, tied down by the strict pacifism he had been taught all his life, and the centuries of tradition behind it. Myrnien's rejection of the tradition had not gone over well with the family. But at worst they thought she was merely deluded. None of them, Kaalzic included, were ever uncharitable enough to think she had truly fallen into evil ways - and now that Kaalzic was inclined to agree with her, he certainly didn't think so now. But what of the recent evidence? She was obviously connected somehow with this Gutt Man, and with the mysterious wizard who had been found "doing something" to the girl Lissa. Either way, it didn't give Kaalzic much confidence that he was doing the right thing by trusting these people he had just met. But two other thoughts imposed themselves on his mind. The first was that he had perceived nothing at all malicious or deceptive in any of them. The second was that, as far as he could remember, his first impressions of people had never been wrong. This reassured him somewhat. ------------------------------------------------------------ He had been lost in thought for some time when there was a knock on the door. Rowan Littlefair entered. "It's good to see you're finally getting to know some other people", he said, getting right to the point. "How well do you know them?" asked Kaalzic. "Well enough," said Littlefair, with a smile. "Let me guess - you want to know if you can trust them." Kaalzic nodded. "I can certainly vouch for Kryalla, Lancos, and Darvos," Littlefair continued. "And I'd trust their judgement where any other people are concerned. Good enough?" Kaalzic nodded again. Normally, such a simple assurance would have done very little, but given his previous train of thought, this tipped the scales more fully in the group's favour. He still wasn't convinced that they were right about their "enemies", but at least they were probably sincere, and whatever the misunderstanding was, it would likely get cleared up. "Thank you," he said simply. "Could I arrange to be awakened, and have some breakfast, at dawn? We'll be setting out shortly after that...." , he thought. "Certainly", Littlefair said, and then the conversation drifted into other matters. ------------------------------------------------------------ The night found Kaalzic at his cabin, or what was left of it, trying to salvage more of his belongings. He worked by the light of a lantern he had set on a rock nearby. There was a sound, so quiet that he felt it more than he heard it. He turned around quickly, and saw two pairs of eyes. He calmed down immediately. , he thought. The wolves came closer. Tails wagged in canine laughter. He sat down on the edge of the rubble, and the wolves lay down nearby. He reached out and scratched them both behind the ears. He sat there for some time, continuing his "conversation" with his friends, knowing that with them his conscious thoughts were the same as spoken words. Unfortunately this communication was strictly one-way. Occasionally he responded to imagined questions or comments, but he knew - or at least he believed - that they were just that, imagined. , he thought after a while, Toric rolled his eyes and shook his head. Kaalzic chuckled. That response, at least, was not imagined. ------------------------------------------------------------ The wolves were no longer there when Kaalzic arrived at his cabin the second time. And this time he finished gathering everything that was worth saving. Later, as he slept, he had a dream. He was in the library again, but only Thalei was with him. "I worry about 'Nien", she said. ------------------------------------------------------------ -- ^..^ / | Dan Peters | "He who would cross the Sea of Fate | /_/\_____/ | | must answer me these questions 28." | /\ /\ |peters@physics.ubc.ca|[from an early draft of Monty Python & the | / \ / \ | |Holy Grail, shortly after the bridge scene]| MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roger] Let's go... thataway ! Date: 14 Jun 1993 01:16:45 GMT Message-ID: <1vgjht$ih1@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> Roger smoothly stepped to the side as the huge battleaxe buried itself into the rocky ground next to him. The giant grunted as he pulled the axe free, leaving a gash in the rock. Roger rolled as the axe whistled above him, and he wound up back in his original position, prepared for the giant's next attack. The giant snarled in frustration. Why wouldn't this puny human just give up and stand still? This was starting to get tiring. Another powerful chop sank into the ground, and this time the human actually laughed. Laugh? No human laughs at Gnarg and gets away with it! The giant charged, abandoning reason to his desire to crush and smash the human. Roger smoothly drew his katana from its scabbard at his back. He assumed a ready stance, then calmly met the charge of the giant. The giant's roar turned into a bellow as Roger leapt into motion, a blur of black clothing punctuated with flashes of hardened steel and gouts of the giant's scarlet blood. The axe rang as it dropped to the ground, shortly followed by the giant's dead body. Roger solemnly bowed to his opponent, wiped his katana with a black cloth before he sheathed it, and then trotted down the now passable trail through the hills. Roger continued through the rocky hills, moving by instinct. He didn't know exactly what he was looking for, but he knew it meant one thing at least - adventure. ----- The Jolly Roger aka Brian Shea taz@athena.mit.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roaming] Recovery Message-ID: <1vfrvvINN59d@news.gac.edu> From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Date: 13 Jun 1993 18:34:39 GMT MagicHutchHeader "12 June 1993, World: Nexus, Location: Approximately 10 miles west of my battle." "It has been two days since I fell in battle with the ogres. My last memory is being attacked from behind. I was to weak to defend myself, and was defeated. But Death has not made her final claim of me after all. A singularly strange being is responsible for my delivery. Perhaps it would be best if I simply recount the conversation that occurred when I regained consciousness. "I awoke to find myself in a makeshift litter. There was a small fire burning with a small figure crouched over it. A faint smell was present; one that was familiar. "The cloaked figure saw my awakening. 'Good,' it croaked, moving closer. 'Elfs is awake. Here, drinks brew I has prepared. Help makes elfs strong again.' He handed me me a small skin. Cautious, I sniffed then sipped it. It tasted wonderful. The little figure nodded in satisfaction and leaned back. Firelight lit the depths of its hood. "I am ashamed to say, my reaction was less than exemplary. 'Gobbin!' I shouted, trying to scramble to my feet. Still weak, I fell back to the ground. I cast about desperately for some means of defense, then stopped to the sound of high-pitched laughter. "'Haha,' crowed the goblin. 'Elfs is scared of Pheu! Hehehehe....' He trailed of to silence. "Listen, elfs. If Pheu wanted you dead, I would have killeds you in your sleep. Instead, I risk hide to helps you. Come, finish brew. I know you like.' With that he turned back to the fire. "I made my way back to the litter. Sitting upright now, I reclaimed the flask and finished the skin. 'My thanks...Pheu?' I finished uncertainly. 'I am in your debt. My name is Thaddius.' "'Me Pheu, Pheu the Mighty!' said the Pheu. "Glad you awake, elfs. We not stay here much longer. Ogres and lots other dark ones around. Need travel soon.' He started digging into a haunch roasting on the fire. Reaching into his pack, Pheu pulled out a larger skin. 'Ale?' he asked. "I nodded assent. The goblin refilled my skin, then took a swig from his. I sat down near him. In all my Roamings, I had never met such a goblin. I decided to indulge my curiousity. "'What manner of creature are you, Pheu?' I asked. "The goblin thumped himself on his chest and threw back his shoulders with pride. 'Me a ranger,' he stated with the utmost pride. "I attempted to hide my sudden smile. It is common knowledge that the goblinoid races lack the affinity with nature necessary to become rangers. I changed tacks. 'What do you DO?' I said. "The goblin looked at me as if I had spoken High Delvish. 'Pheu do what rangers do,' he replied. "'And that is?' I inquired leading. "'Range!' the goblin replied. He started muttering to himself. 'Elfs not so smart. Me wonders why others so scared of elfses. Not even know what ranger is... Pheu's tirade faded off as he settled into his bedroll. I folled his example, pulling the blanket about me and fading off to sleep. "Today was more of the same. I found myself able to walk unaided. Going through my remaining gear, Pheu and I discovered that all I really needed was a weapon. My sling was intact, and my supplies remained. Acting upon this, the goblin fashioned me a club of sorts from the remains of my staff. "As we settle down for the second night, my mind wanders. Tomorrow we depart downriver for a town called Farreach. It will take about three days time to get there. Meanwhile, I shall have interesting company, at the very least." -Thaddius Farsinger "Never judge by appearances alone." ****************************************************************************** Sometimes, those you love most are the ones you have to leave behind. Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] Palandun: Huh? What happened? Message-ID: <1993Jun14.070532.20509@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Mon, 14 Jun 93 07:05:32 GMT ADMIN: I'm baaaack. (Everybody runs in horror) I'll get cracking on the History tomorrow or tuesday. "Sir, it's time for dinner, sir." A voice said. Palandun Snorted, moaned, and dragged himself up. "What's your point." Palandun replied, not exactly asking a question. "You have barely time to dress, sir, the master is holding a formal dinner tonight." Palandun applied a direct effort of will and managed to drag some cognitive ability on-line. His mind was not up to a steel trap, but a straw or wood trap would pretty aptly describe it. "Let me get this straight, You people dress up so you can eat and get stains on your clothes?" "No, sir. One dresses in one's best clothes so that one may impress one's host and fellow guests. One eats for sustenance." "Butler!" Palandun said in a blinding flash of insight. "You're a butler, aren't you?" "No. I'm a valet. Your valet for the duration of this trip. Mr. Toodie keeps an entourage (he used the Ydonian word) on his river trips, including several valets and handmaidens for the nobles in his party-" "I'm not a noble. Where I come from the only people who get waited on hand and foot are the very young and the infirm. Tell your 'master' that I've no need of a servant." "You will of course understand sir that my master may wish to keep a watch on his guests-in a purely begnin manner, sir- and he felt that this was a more dignified way than setting guards at the door, sir." "Meaning you're my babysitter." "The analogy is apt, if a bit crude sir. Now, I do reccomend that you not wear those bloodstained clothes to dinner sir, tis not in the best of taste." After much wrangling, the valet (who was named Winks) and Palandun finally agreed on the Bismanian Army Full Dress Uniform, complete with five decorations and sword. Neither one felt comfortable (Winks because the Bismanian army was no sort of presence on the eastern continent, Palandun because it itched) but it was either that or go naked. Gunther was charming as ever, set a delightful table, and had some very interesting guests. Everyone in Toodies entorague, from the butler to the lowliest serving girl was allowed to take a very few guests on these trips, but the formal dinner was only for those notables actually travelling with the master or his mistress. They were: Andir Wellen, another Generican merchant, who traded largely with specifica of the furs. He would get off there. Thelli Wellen, His wife. Ashran: A Ramshander nobleman visiting. Telki Barnstormer: A powerful member of the Mage's guild. It was agreed that the males (Gunther, Andir, Ashran, and Palandun) would go hunting in the Great Forest in a few days. Meanwhile, Palandun finished eating and went back to sleep. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] White Rabbit Blues Message-ID: References: <1993Jun12.023141.2788@data-io.com> Date: Mon, 14 Jun 1993 07:54:39 GMT [ADMIN] Follows directly after Turning Around, also was written by Li and myself. The hot shower felt wonderful, and with her energies still running high, Kardia found it easy to focus on her spinning. The thread flowed quickly and smoothly until the room said, "Ten minutes until your appointment, Kardia." "Thanks." she said. "You're welcome." Kardia blinked at the ceiling above her and the room around her and grinned again. Then she stood up and groaned and then laughed softly. Her muscles were definitely sore, and the extended sitting hadn't helped. She put her socks and shoes on, and then, remembering what Dasham had done the last time they'd met, Kardia put her shawl on, just below her shoulders. She walked out to the main room and saw 'Raelf talking with 'Raf. "Dude, you've got to stay out of it." "But I'm already in, man. I'll be careful, promise." 'Raf shook his shaggy mane and looked positively pleading. "No. It's too dangerous. You were defeated and we don't know what that might mean, especially if you get back in again. Besides, you have to be able to get the others out of here. You and Kev and Lex and Raye are all we've got for evac detail." "Where's Airhead?" 'Raf blinked, slowly, and 'Raelf took him by the shoulders. "He got away, 'Raf. I can't feel him in the focus, so he's still in the programmed escape mode. Don't worry about him." "I could unblock and tell you what he was attacked in, what he looks like. Maybe where he's gotten to." 'Raelf thought for a second. "No. We better not. Paradox is already too heavy, if we know too early we might lock in defeat. Besides, Raye did a checkup on my linkages and she says he's not draining so we're fine from there." "But, I'm still okay to raise power." "Sure. Get some major music goin', bro." "Band is ready. Even got some audience." 'Raf sighed, frowning and shaking his head. "You sure this is a good idea, taking Kardia?" She started a bit at the mention of her name and listened to what followed. "Yeah. We don't really know for sure where or when it happens, and we've got to meet with Dasham - if it happens on the way, she can get out the alarm if I don't." Kardia coughed and when both of them noted her, she approached. "What alarm?" "Ah. We need to let you in on this. Let's sit down here, it might take a few minutes." They went over to where the couch and chair set were set up, facing the ocean. "You remember how I said I was 'Raf, not 'Raelf?" The satyrlion curled up onto the chair and looked out over the waves. His tail was sticking out and lashing. "Yeah. I was wondering about that." "This is part of the war we were telling you about," 'Raelf said, drawing out his staff and sighting down the length of it. "And 'Raf is right, we do have to ask you before we get you anywhere near the scene of the action. See, it's about .85 probable that I'll be attacked by something grotty on the way to or from the Guild today. We don't know what exactly the something is, except that it was able to attack through any weakness I have. Anyway, when you've got your shawl on, you "read" as absolutely mundane, no magical aura at all. Stealth. So you ought to be safe, it shouldn't recognize you as a threat at all." "Cool." said Kardia somehat reflexively to the last. Then thought about what he said for a minute. "Eight five percent probability... and it can attack through *any* of your weaknesses?" She frowned, "What kind of alarm do you want me to raise and to or for whom?" "Get clear, and yell for ar'Elya, and Dariel. Then get to the guild hall and demand Dasham and Urcohea; call it a `code black' and it should get their attention. If the receptionist gives you any kind of noise then touch the glasses with the shawl, or the desk. That'll bring either Rivy or Urco running, and you can trust both of them." 'Raelf grinned as 'Raf interrupted: "Don't trust Dash though, she be just a little psycho. Reliable, but psycho." Kardia smiled. "Should we go then? We've got a little more than a half hour. Will we be taking the direct gate?" 'Raelf shook his head. "No, I've shut it down so we can turn on the defensive fields. When this place is lit up there's nothing can get in short of a greater god, and the warp folder will move it off to high astral if it seems like it's gonna get cut loose from its moorings. Only safer place in town is maybe the secret archive rooms in the Library. Maybe." "Only safer place is to be elsewhere, dude," 'Raf grinned, "And the Lady is right, you better get going." 'Raelf nodded, and helped Kardia to her feet. On the way out he grabbed his black poncho from the coatrack, and they went out the door. "Hang on, we're taking a shortcut to the bridge," 'Raelf said, offering his staff. "This is a trapeze thru air. <>" They vanished. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: dmcdulin@cs.uct.ac.za (Barry McDuling) Subject: [Kraska] very short interlude. Message-ID: Keywords: Disappearance...? Date: Mon, 14 Jun 1993 11:57:48 GMT ADMIN: Apologies for the *INCREDIBLE* gap in time since Kraska last appeared here. Currently the explanation for this is being compiled into a *short* story to be told here soon. In the mean time... Kraska had vanished from Generica the same way he had arrived... Kicking and screaming! The blue nimbus which heralded his coming surrounded him again and whipped him off into some unknown realm. Well, unknown for some people anyway. For Kraska it was going to prove far too familiar... But then again, that's another story, to be told shortly. ADMIN: (Again,... shortly here means wait about 1 month. I got exams to write!!! Bummer.) -- -------------------------------------------------------------------- __ __ _ | |__) | | / |\/| |\ / |/ Email: dmcdulin@cs.uct.ac.za |__) \_/ /_ | | |~\ \_ |\ ( Got engaged on Sat 8th May 1993! ) Aquarius: destined for greatness, or madness. I figure I've landed in the latter region. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn,alt.pub.havens-rest From: cmeadows@nyx.cs.du.edu (Chris Meadows) Subject: ADMIN: [AU], [Constellation], and [Oberon, Inc.] -- My Hours Message-ID: <1993Jun14.141122.1325@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Mon, 14 Jun 93 14:11:22 GMT Since I'm not around all of the time, I thought it prudent to post when I will be available so you won't get frustrated if you send me email and I don't respond immediately. Unlike when I'm up here in the Fall and Spring semesters, I currently have to commute to classes from my home, 60 miles away. So I am only here from Monday to Thursday, from about 7:00 a.m. to about 2:00 or 3:00 p.m., Central Time. The rest of the time, I am at my home and will not have any access to email or netnews whatsoever. Just thought I'd better clear that up. Sorry for any wasted bandwidth (though I think that by posting this message to both newsgroups at once, I have actually saved some...). -- Chris Meadows | Robotech/RIFTS/Palladium fanfic author/editor CHM173S@SMSVMA | They Might Be Giants about Star Trek aliens: CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU | "Everybody wants prosthetic foreheads CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU | on their real heads!" MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Taken In Ambush Message-ID: References: <1993Jun12.023141.2788@data-io.com> Date: Mon, 14 Jun 1993 16:21:32 GMT [Admin] Bernie Hsiung is almost as much to blame for this as I am. The shadows were starting to grow long. When he "Dieter. I thought looked up, he could see the wan white moon in the you were off duty." dimming blue sky of late day. The dark splotches (puzzled frown.) on its surface shrank and grew as it turned slowly, slowly, and he continued to wait. The "I am. I'm just prey drew closer. Gradually, the odds skittered waiting for a friend." up, slid down, then edged back up again as the possible thinned into the probable into the now. "Ok. See ya later." Watching the interplay of weakness and strength, of White and Black, and deciding for each (nod) "Be seeing you." instant: this now, or this now, or... this now. This. Now. He expected to surprise the prey, striking it "If we could have just down as he stepped out of the Nowhere. He was a few minutes of your himself surprised. time..." The elemental flame washed over his host, and as "not interested bye." he turned them aside, the balefires caught the edge of his Power and started to eat it away. He "We'd like to make you stripped off the burning shred and made of it an this special offer, ever-eroding dart as he snapped the cord between his prey and the staff in which dwelt its power elemental. He loosed the dart and reached for the staff, intending to seize it and shiver it "We're sure you'd love like the icicles fallen from a tree in winter. this new product." But the dart missed. The prey had faded back (static. dead air) away, still holding his staff. Twice thwarted. The image of proud Third overlaid the avatar's "We control the video, awareness, long broken because of overconfidence we control the audio. against but seven Warriors. He resolved to use more caution even as he cut off its escape Sit back, relax, as route. The rest of the universe dimmed and faded we take you on a trip away into the Black as his hands carved the beyond ... street around them into its own pocket of The Outer Limits." reality. The prey spun at the touch of his worldrule, "In a not too distant throwing it into a different spinstate. future, next Sunday, Aggravating, but not entirely unexpected. He A.D. There was a" began twisting the ruleset for the pocket reality, forcing the prey to expend energies to "Amos, where's Kingfish" redirect his changes. The walls grew around them as the discarded ideas piled up, inert but for a "a 1928 Porter, that's few definitions. Finally, the reality refused to my mother dear..." flex further, and they would have to play in the arena they had created. "Don't touch that dial!" The rules had changed. The prey refused to face "Quite a nice place him in the War Against Hope. The War of Faith you have here. and Denial had no relevance to him, and he had blocked the path to the War of Justice and "Love what you've done Wrong. Thus, they were in the last realm: the with the furniture." War of Creation and Unmaking. He bared his fangs, knowing the prey to be an Artificer. This "Oh, these old things?" was an unpleasant place for him, but Creation was not closed to him. He could operate here without "No, really, who's your being forced into self-immolation, if he could interior decorator?" force the prey into the role of Destroyer or warp it to his own ends. "My DEAR friend Mar." The prey was looking at him with eyes of whirling "Wow, Polyester robes. color, assessing his construction and his They've got those in nature. He growled, closing off those apertures designer colors now." which he could control; the prey similarly guarded itself. He ignored the noise on the "Here, let me turn down outside of its mind, pushing through to the this MTV so we can second layer that yawned emptily and pitched his really talk. Oh, the awareness towards false visions. The prey had lights went out, well, layers on layers around its true heart; the we can still have our seeker-spells had died or been deflected but little chat here by clearly what they had seen could not have been moonlight, 'kay?" all there was, or it would have fallen to the first blow. It would only take time to pierce "Your funeral, dude." the layers and soon the prey would have no time left to it at all. And yet, seeing so far only the first two "So tell me ALL about deceptive layers, he knew that the prey's base what it's like to be model was the four elements of Earth, Fire, from, where is it you Water, Air. He smiled, for he knew this was weak said you were from?" and unnecessary, new and untested compared to his own, the White and the Black, Self and Not. He "I didn't say. Let's would take what the prey had to offer and turn it not worry about me, to Not. He would take the prey itself and turn let's talk about YOU." it to Not. The prey was constructing something, a linkage to "Oh, my. The phone. outside. He blocked it, but it turned aside and How rude. Let me reached in a different direction to the same end put them on hold." again. He reached into the link; the wash of pure flame running through it seared his hand and "No thanks, it's my he let go. cellular, I'll get it. As he considered, the prey threw something that "Radical. Hey, it's embedded itself into his form. Through the lines for you, catch." of elemental fire, the archetype of magical life in his host, a web spread out through his body, "Hello? Sorry, wrong reaching to the spirit of his host. Before the number? Oh, it's YOU. host could make use of the web, he turned it I'm sorry, he's busy sideways, rotating the host's soul so that it was right now, can I take hidden behind the White, and instead put within a message? the web a not-soul, a false-soul, that the prey reeled in eagerly in lieu of the true. Tearing Well, imagine that. the web apart or using it to ground a separation They hung up. Here's or worse would have been simple, but the act of your phone back." destruction in this battleground was risky, turned too quickly and easily against the originator. He knew that the prey knew he would be especially vulnerable to such reflection, as he was built so closely to Destruction already. Far safer to play the game of crafting. The prey took the not-soul to itself, adding it "Hey, you should have into itself, and shuddered as the Trap was reversed the charges, revealed: the Fire of Vengeance, tied into its now I'll have to pay heart, an elegant creation and fitting. With the the uplink fee." Fire bound to its heart, it fled from him, but it was replaced before it fled when the prey "Someone's at the door." flickered and doubled, a whole creation. No, he saw as one stepped forward and the other back, it "Already got it, dude." was only a trick with the flow of time. Temporal fugue. He knew then that he must remove it from "Oh dear, you didn't its deeper powers, but to do that he must first say you were twins. defeat each of its outer beings in the proper Now I have to get out flow, defeat each of its possibilities and the extra silverware." survive its multiple assault. The first the prey rebuilt the linkage yet "Hey, dude, you ever again. As he moved to redirect it into the try one of these? unfire, the other surrounded him in a noxious Really gets ya in a cloud that his body was forced to breathe. He buzz, have some." was quite annoyed to find the cloud bringing with it a sense of lightness and amusement. A sense "But I've always just of humor. How droll and utterly inappropriate. said `no' to that He smiled, rather than simply exposing his teeth, sort of thing." and applied the sense of humor in forging a gift in return. Air could be driving, turbulent, and "Aw, try it, hey, I've so he built a changewind that carried a drive to got some neat new control, to take charge, to manage for lesser toys if you wanna beings. As he crafted, the prey attempted to try 'em out, they gift him with other weaknesses: empathy, which make the neatest he twisted into a chain for later use, as it was colors." useless for him. Lust for pleasure, which he found repellent, but transformed easily into a "I think I'll stick second set of shackles. He hid these behind the with my old Black and Black, waiting for the moment of their White set for now. employment. They work fine. The changewind blew and fastened upon the prey, "But I'm neglecting my blowing through its Air and finding within it a duties, here, you two part of something it had once eaten; by the Arts look so hot, let me of Regrowth, the thing grew into the prey. But turn on the climate before it could suffocate in its essence, the control. There, isn't prey collapsed into it with an Air of Command that better?" that coalesced into a whole self and fled, once again replaced in the past seconds which he could "Cool. Hey, can I just not reach into. The prey flickered through the bring a couple more of fugue in retaliation, and now four faced him my brothers here?" where two had stood. While the prey it spent its energies in "If you must. It's multiplying its eminence, he focussed on the next getting rather bright creation. It would not be enough, but the one out here, let me get afterwards would be closer still. The gift of some... I know I had Power: to _see_ the world, the gift to see the them here somewhere, world as HE saw it, with all its weaknesses, the I'm such a wreck when flaws in construction, the worms in the apple. I entertain unexpected With his newly-gained sense of humor, he found crowds. great irony in the situation: the prey was trying to change him into its own image, but each attempt gave him just the tools with which to better change the prey into his own creature. He blinked and corrected himself as the prey "Oh, I didn't see that approached him again -- there were five elements lovely black stripe the prey used, and the fifth was Void. It made in your shirt before." little difference; one more was only one more to be handled. But as he stood in mid-stroke, they "You look thirsty, placed a fountain within him: a crystalline dude. Have a drink, spring healing, wellness, balance and rightness. on me." Painful to his threaded self, it was dangerously close to Hope - the springs of Caring. He could "Oh, but I never take not remove it, not without destroying it; then, intoxicants, mmm, but the trap would close and he would cease. He this isn't bad at all. laughed, appreciating the joke that what they Still a little hot for were giving would in the long run make him my tastes." stronger. Now that he held caring, he could cut any shadow of it and return it to the prey. The prey spun around him, and he sent out a "You get used to it, flak-shield of purposes and intentions, knowing it's kinda fun." that they would deflect them as he deflected their rain of changes. It made no difference "Whoops. I spilled it. that he could care, that he could laugh. He Here, let me wash would go on doing what he was created to do, as that off for you, there was nothing else that was possible for just hold still, this him. The liquid wash began to saturate his outer will take the sting screen, so he gathered what he could and embedded out of it..." it in the spray, then filled the pocket of reality with the fluid essence of his Gift to the prey. It sank into the first, washing through the channels of power which the prey kept open, mingling its changes into the Water of its being, "Hey, no problem, it's the Water of Knowledge. It stained those parts wash and wear." of the prey which it touched upon: the multiples on multiples attempted to defend themselves by changing the flood of Gifting to a blowing inert dust that piled up and adhered to the walls of the arena. But one of the prey, the lynchpin, had been "Oh, but it's gone and soaked through, and it fluxed, coalesced with a left a blot on your sneer, bowed to him, and vanished away. As the shirt front right rest began to collapse, the keystone shifted to there. I've got a another who materialized in the second just past, special product that and again the doubling. Now eight distracted and will take that right built and maintained and stretched, trying to out, and it only takes tempt him into bestowing one of them with a six seconds in water." Destruction that might be turned upon himself. He held back, though he was on the edge of "No need, dude, I can patience, and put his Power into another Gift, cope. Hey, look, this one totally unlike his own being, yet at more friends, let's odds with the prey's own nature. party on!" And now his sight had penetrated the prey's defensive layers, shearing through the false "Oh, an original signed visions, and past the bastions of Earth, into a `Death' Tee shirt, barrier of Death that held no meaning to one such I've never seen one, as himself. And beyond it and beyond the realms but it's not my size. of Void, stood its trueself, a warping twist of I'm not a big bruiser Power on a level which he could not reach like you." directly. Yet. And he smiled again, for he saw the prey could only touch the Places around them "One size fits all." and the True Power through its wrapping of the archetypes, which were the elements that he had "Frankly, I prefer the been stripping from it all along. This knowing more family oriented soothed him greatly, for now he saw that the prey books, Richie Rich, was his. Once he had drawn the Gift of Void, his Casper the Dead Baby task was fulfilled. But first, he must complete Ghost, that sort of the Gift which would overthrow the bastions of thing." Earth. They circled him now, eight exactly alike, held "Far out. Hey, I know off from actually touching him by the barriers of you've been really Power, and he knew that they had built their makin' the efforts to Gift, and that he must accept it in exchange for do this host thing his own Gifting. He flickered his barriers as if the right way, dude, they were about to fall, then pulled them in. and I brought you a Eight staves struck inward without hesitation, present, made it all and he was encased in Stone, a solidity that by myselves. reached into him and through him, finding anchor in his deepest being, where their Gift rooted. Before he could move against it, it crumbled from "G'wan, open it!" around him and vanished away. The Gift was freedom. He could choose. From this point "A _key_?" onward, he was no longer merely the avatar R of the fragment Mar of the Third Servant of the "Yeah, it fits that Reaver. He could be anything he wanted, and he little lock in your suddenly had a yearning for a new name. head there, try it." Reflexively, he struck his counter-blow, and his Gift lodged into the lynchpin, sinking itself "But... It fits. I into the Earth protecting it. It was a subtle simply must return Gift: the power to grant the desires of others, the favor. Here, let tied through with the chains of empathy and lust me fit this here, and for pleasure that he had apropriated earlier. these go on here, and Lodged into the prey's Earth, the Gift would tend I know you're not a to grant only the baser desires and seldom the genie but the wishes higher. go with the outfit." And along with the chains of lust and empathy, an "I guess I'll have to ugly story, well-crafted, forged as more chains, keep it. You don't to bind and mold the prey into a potent, forceful mind if I have my entity, but one more suited to his goals. The tailor adjust it?" prey convulsed, and fell to the Earth, but then mounded up and grew into the Form most apt to its "It's custom made. It new nature. The lynchpin was again replaced fits like a glove. My before it was taken, but he knew that it was personal guarantee." growing tired; the cost of maintaining the temporal fugue was high, and the edges of this "...let me try it out." pocket reality were starting to fray, the world threatening to return from the Black. Just as "I'm so glad you like well, for his own Power was not unlimited. He it. It really brings might make use of his new freedom of will to out that reckless, terminate this exchange early, but it was still romantic side of you." too soon for that. The prey multiplied itself again. There were "Hey, guys, it's not sixteen. It would not matter soon, whether there a party til you show. were sixteen or sixteen thousand, for he had only How's our host doin?" to strike into the Void. All its other modes had been subverted, enslaved to his will. His final "Oh, I could keep on Gift was perfect: a hunger, a need to consume all night, but aren't others and a seed of Power to enable that you getting a little Feeding. The prey had met the Elder Being that hungry, all this huddled in her hole in the blasted center of this dancing in and out, Place, and with this Gift, the prey could become that has to be very a thing quite like her. He struck, aiming for tiring, one would the Thought which linked closest to the twist of think. ...Hello?" Power at the core of the prey. Perfect. His Gift was offered to nothing, falling inert as "Now where did he..." it left his grasp, unaccepted; the prey stood inside him, overlapping. The change of realities *Howdy. What you got caught him unawares. It had chosen to risk hiding back in here?* merging with him. He laughed aloud -- its gamble was lost. It was finished. Now he could destroy "It's very rude to pry it easily without fear of reprisal: the prey and into my private rooms he were one, and the turning of Power against uninvited. Milady oneself could not and would not be reflected. Manners would be appalled." But then -- sudden pain. He screamed and doubled over, the edge of the pocket reality quivering in *You got termites in response. here, dude.* At its core, the prey carried a flame from the "Oh, this is beyond accursed Beacon, a light of Hope which ached all the bounds of within him like a rotten tooth. He tore an hospitality. Put opening in himself to seize it and throw it away, that light out, but he could not even touch it, not with the you're blinding me. Black, nor with the White. It burned him from Stop it!" within and would not stop, burning worse than the elemental flames, worse than the balefires. He was dimly aware that around him, the remaining *Well, look at that, prey struck down the Walls. The arena dissolved, the whole place is and -- no! -- the light shone from deep inside made of cardboard!* his body to without, where all could see it plainly. And as he crouched in mortal anguish, he felt one <> movement. A being of molten silver with wings of light -- and for him, one would suffice where *Turn on the lights, seven fought long ago. babe, it's time!* The wings spread, and inside him the flame flared "NO! It's too bright! in response. The black threads of his very Go away! I'm not essence began to smoulder, then burn. wearing any clothes!" He screamed again. "MAR! HELP ME!" "MAR! HELP ME!" He fled. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Forging Fine Silver Message-ID: References: <1993Jun12.023141.2788@data-io.com> Date: Mon, 14 Jun 1993 17:09:05 GMT In the death of a massive storm a timefork was born, and on that fork I chose to follow both branchings. One fork goes on to an end which cannot be seen. The other is short, but long enough that I can use it. I have been given a small gift, a flame from a distant beacon. In my quiet tower I pause for meditation and reflection. Reflection. An idea in motion. Spinning, turning, showing all the facets, all the flaws, all the edges, all the cold hard facts from which it is built. The concept is Warrior. At its primal center, Warrior contests against opposition on behalf of an abstraction. And a flame, a candle in the night. A small thing, really, but it would not die and could not be extinguished. Crush it here, and it springs up elsewhere. The flame is also an idea, the emblem of possibilities, the selection from those possibilities of one true and best alternative, even in the face of the impossible, to see by its light that there are other things that can happen, that will happen if the flame is nourished. Reflection on a Name. Assuming the Power that lives in the Flame could be costly. It requires commitment, choice, deliberate assumption of risk. Becoming one with the Flame, a Warrior in service to its light, there are thousands of things which can be lost. Are they worth the one thing preserved? Decision. If the War is lost, all things are lost. The goal is worthy of the risk. I will. Taking the flame within, it burns throughout all facets, each place it touches is transformed... Assume the Role of Warrior, the Wings take shape, the Power collects. Wait and grow stronger. This Place is like unto the Beacon of Hope, it has within it the reflection of that Place. The name is spoken, and I answer. There is one, a child, who calls in fear. Her heart is burdened beyond proper limits. Speak words of comfort. Beside her is one who I love, but horribly marred. The flames of his being are wreathed in the self-consuming darkness of Vengeance. Take him into my wings. Let the light pour in, and the dark Power is revealed, isolated. The one who I love, no longer blinded by the need to return hurt, the Power is purged of its twisted nature. It will be needed, later. Speak more comfort, and now, depart before I am revealed too soon. Walk the high places. Step into the past, hearing the echoes of a voice calling my name. This Place is an open plaza. Below is again the one who I love, heart twisted by the Reaver and shaped by Despair, compelled into a form that mocks his inner nature. Approach from the other side of beyond; it is important that I not be seen by the ReaversChild nor his tools. Enfold him, inside of time and outside, wrapped in my wings he is freed from the bindings, take from him the black chains, but I cannot remove the Gift of Power from the solid stone of his being, Power which he has woven through the people here. Give out again the benediction of light onto the crowd and return to the other side of beyond. The black chains rot and dissolve away into the nothingness in the light of the flame. Again I am called, this time by One who has no End. She tells of a thing I must do, and I step Beyond time and into the alterspace, crossing in the wake of a spirit departed too early. Appear to him in his paradise: <> Wait while he decides... And he comes. Take him up into the folds of my being. The return is instantaneous and interminable, as all such journeys. Below, his body waits, halting flesh restored from dead stone but requiring the fires of his own being to truly warm it. The one who I love goes about his task of restoring those fires to their proper hearth. Move onward, quickly, the four paces away where his timefolded self holds the skein of his being, a detestable arrogance staining the pure waters of his mind. A touch of the flame burns away the arrogance; he can and must expel the twistings on his own. Quickly, go forth from this Place, lest the ReaversChild see me. His name I have deduced, but I will not speak it; though I take the Role of the Silver Warrior I am weaker than he, and have not yet the Power needed to face him full on. Stand again on the Lighthouse, that Place the other cannot see, and touch the Flame to the beacon. The Light shoots forth, across the endless Spheres. One will come, whether in time or not I cannot say, but this Place will not be abandoned to the ReaversChild. Step back into Time. A voice calls me, multiplied upon itself, a voice I know. Stoop down from the place beyond Places, an eagle upon its prey. The shard has spun off another shard, which has worked its filthy will upon the one I love. He fights fiercely, without wrath but implacable, and does not yield; he does what he must, and carries his own crystal flame from the Beacon into the heart of the shard. Striking, fan the flame, make it blaze like unto the Beacon itself, illuminating all the corners of the being. It flees. I follow. MagicHutchHeader From: bshsiung@quip.eecs.umich.edu (Bernard Hsiung) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] The Contents of My Head Date: 14 Jun 1993 18:22:18 GMT Message-ID: <1vifkr$i4a@zip.eecs.umich.edu> [ADMIN] This should be read after the posts: [MG] Turning Around (by Hutch & Li) [MG] White Rabbit Blues (by Hutch & Li) [MG] Taken in Ambush (by Hutch & me) [MG] Forging Fine Silver (by Hutch & a bit from me) and chronologically follows the posting (a ways back ago) of [MG] Somewhere out of context (by Kelly & a bit from me) But enough of preliminaries and preconditions. On with the show! ---->,`<---- "These are the dreams I'll dream instead This is the joy that's seldom spread These are the tears... The tears we shed. This is the fear This is the dread These are the contents of my head" -Annie Lennox, "Why" DIVA Nescie looked away, breathing slowly, controlling some of his feelings. He'd forgotten about how Jameson was sometimes so unreactive. Not that she wasn't sympathetic, just that sometimes she seemed to be looking at him from very far away. Even now she stood, her eyes distant. He turned and the distortion field around them fell away. He paused and put out his arm to her. Coming from far away to smile warmly at him, she tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow. Ahead of them, the doorman to Le Chateau de Pooh-Pooh Grandoise allowed his nose to elevate a degree or two. Jameson's eyebrows arched ever so slightly and she turned to Nescie, saying in a false, high-pitched voice fraught with haughtiness, "ArchMage Nescie, you did say Monsieur had personally invited you to sample his private stock of Grapes of Wrath, 250 B.P.? We'd best be sure it's the real thing. Otherwise, I'm going back to Melwis -- he promised me a truly fine bottle of Briande in exchange for that little favor I did him last week." She sniffed and picked an invisible bit of lint from her shirt. Nescie looked almost as startled as the doorman, who rushed to open the door for them with a breathless flourish and bow. Jameson ignored him and swept through, dragging Nescie along. She grinned and winked at Nescie as the Maitre'd glanced at them sidelong from across the restaurant. When he returned from escorting those guests, he smiled graciously at them, "Reservation?" "ArchMage of Education, Nescie y'Ridalen and Onari Ambassador Jameson W. Walker," Jameson rattled off smoothly. Looking down his list, he glanced back up and seemed to make a decision. "Just a moment." He signalled a waiter, said something quietly to the man, then turned his smile back on Jameson and the slightly baffled Nescie. "This way, please." They were escorted to a small table near the fireplace. The setting was absolutely lovely and Jameson settled contentedly into the comfortably upholstered chair the Maitre'd held out for her. Once the attendants left them with their menus, Nescie looked at Jameson and said, very quietly, "What was that?" Jameson replied, with equal discretion, "That was Attitude Affectation Number 34, subsection B, VIP Bluff. Did you like it?" Nescie looked at her disbelievingly for a moment before the smile appeared. He laughed quietly in his hand for a few moments while Jameson grinned happily at him. Watching him, she acknowledged, "It did help that you *are* a VIP, by the way." That only served to make Nescie laugh harder. With a quiet but highly unfeminine snort, Jameson picked up her menu and began scanning. Eventually, Nescie did the same. After they had ordered several courses, they sat sipping juice in a comfortable silence. Then, Nescie said softly, "There are some things, Jaime, that I'd like to ... talk about ... with you. He paused, gathering his thoughts. "When I was telling you about the Mage Guild's situation, there was something I hadn't mentioned. For the first time in a long while, it looks like they'll be able to do without me. The Education Department is pretty stable now. I don't have to keep an eye on everything we're doing anymore. The teaching staff is making preparations for the new semester, but they don't need me for that. "All the politics ... well, frankly, Jaime, I'm sick of the whole thing. I feel like I've been under a lot of stress lately, and I'm not sure what's causing it. Maybe it's just the atmosphere in the Guild or maybe it's the general situation here in Nexus, but I've had this sense I can't shake that something somewhere has gone drastically wrong. I haven't been sleeping regularly, and I sleep too much when I do sleep. I have awful dreams that I barely remember when I wake up, and I keep losing track of time. I've spent hours that are totally blank to me; I have no idea where they go. I couldn't even tell you what I was doing this afternoon." Jameson frowned at him in worry, but remained silent. "Maybe I'm finally burning out." Nescie looked down at his hands and sighed deeply. "All that drudgework, all those years, and so little to show for it. My department's working again, but I don't even know if I can really teach anymore; it's been so long. All this scrambling around for Delalle's position, and--" He made an agitated sort of shrugging motion, then calmed himself. "As far as I can tell, it doesn't mean a whole lot to be the Supreme Archmage." "And then, when you showed up out of the blue, it was like... Well, like a sign, or something." Nescie looked up again, meeting Jameson's eyes. "I actually went out of my way and _did_ something that I had never thought about before." He smiled, gestured at himself, at his newly-young body. "I don't know if I want to stay on at the Guild or not, Jaime. I've been thinking it'd be a good idea for me to take a vacation, to get away from it all for a couple of years, even a couple of decades. To look at everything all over again, and see if I'm doing what I really want to do." He ran a hand through his hair and sighed again. "The Guild won't miss me much; my assistant, Charblon, can take over for me. By the time I make my decision, he should be able to handle my position permanently if he has to. And as far as this Reaverschild affair goes, well... We all have to do what we can, but I know I'm not much good in a fight. I don't think my presence would make much of a difference, if it came down to it. "I told you once that I've wondered sometimes what would have happened if I had decided to go with you instead. It's kind of corny, I know, but I feel like I've been given a second chance, or at least an opportunity for a different beginning. I'd like to travel with you, Jaime, if you'd have me. Maybe for a little while. Maybe for as long as I live..." Again the faraway look came into Jameson's eyes, but it faded quickly and she looked at him very seriously. "I don't know if I could travel *with* anyone else, Nescie. I mean, our classes together were fun, but they were somewhat controlled. We had goals, exercises to complete, deadlines and perhaps most influential, a place to return to ... I've not really gone through Doors with someone since my apprenticeship. It's easy enough travelling across individual worlds. That is, when it's a comfortable companion..." Her sentence trailed off and she sat back as the main course appeared via discrete waitron. There was silence as they ate. After completing the majority of her meal, Jameson continued. "I'm ..." she laughed, "I'm going to over-explain. Do what you're good at, I suppose." Her smile faded as she looked at and through one of the candle's flame. Finally, she met Nescie's eyes. "You are a good friend. I don't mean any of this to be hurtful, but I do want to be honest. We've always been honest with each other..." She paused briefly, then went on. "I'm afraid, Nescie. I'm very fearful of getting close to people. I mean, you know more than most and it feels good to be with someone and not worry about slipping and mentioning something that happened a few hundred years ago." She smiled at him briefly. "I've always been cautious about getting close to people. Not just because I ... lose them. But because when they get old, they get -- well -- peculiar. Many of them envy me, and it turns to a kind of dislike. They can't stand the sight of me. It's much worse with humans than elves. And also ..." She trailed off and fiddled with her fork. "Things ... happen. Around me. I'm not sure if it's just the law of averages, or my tendency to meddle or what. But, people around me get into the strangest situations. Sometimes... no _often_, really horrible things happen. The last person I was close to was a boy." She looked into the distance, remembering. A smile played at the corners of her mouth. "He reminded me of you. It wasn't long after I'd left Arkham. Remember when I told you I'd been running serum for some colonies with a Plague problem?" At Nescie's nod, she continued. "Well, he was on one of the planets. They were desperate for someone to take a batch of inoculant out to a remote farming community with no landing pad. Not much of a road leading out either, but it served. I stayed there for a while, helping bury the dead, inoculating the kids, showing families how to pool their resources." She stopped. It was obviously getting progressively more difficult to talk about. "There was this kid, barely out of adolescence. He sort of volunteered to be my helper. He was a good kid. Strong, big-hearted. Loved his little sister. We buried a LOT of his neighbors. A couple of group graves to handle the majority of the bodies, then a few individual graves. This plague, it ... twisted people. They were hard to look at. They usually died screaming, with rictus setting in almost immediately ... Ah. Yeah. Never mind the details. I'm spoiling my own dinner." She looked a bit rueful at the food she was chasing around her plate. "One day, we came back from burying another body. I was staying at his house with him, the last adult of his parental unit and his younger sister. We found ... his adult had ... there was ... well ... he was insane. He'd killed the girl. With an ax. Then mutilated himself." Her eyes filled, despite her rapid blinking. "But he was still alive. And laughing. Mazn ... cracked. Killed him, and ... used the ax. On him. Then came after me. We fell down the stairs. We both ... died. I broke my neck. When I had ... healed ... I got up, took all the kids from the compound, loaded them into my skimmer, and left. Handed them over to the Meds in Center City and booked a fast passage out. I think I gave my shuttle to one of the interns I had taught piloting." She was slowly shaking her head. "The Wasting. That's what they called it. The Wasting." She clasped her hands together and stared at her fingers. "I think sanity and insanity are foolish concepts. Reality does not always hold me in her rough embrace. But this ... this confrontation with what happens to people. Shook me. Deeply. When I look into the eyes of those I care about, I fear seeing Mazn's eyes. His eyes were dead long before he fell." She looked searchingly into Nescie's sympathetic face and for a moment, like a brief flash or reflection, his eyes were dark, featureless and cold. But it was gone before she could be sure. She laughed shakily. Her imagination was jeopardizing her grasp on her self. Clearing her throat she continued, slightly more steadily, "And what about you? You said yourself that after twenty years away from his job, Delalle had a large group of people trying to replace him. What would you do, should that happen to you? You said Charblon could handle everything, permanently if necessary. But do you want to give this up? And I know you've, um, made yourself younger, but do you still want to go running about, living off the land, bathing in cold water and eating when you can? Most humans get tired of that sort of thing after a while." She held up her hand, to forestall his protests. "Do you want to settle down? Have kids? I'm not going to. At least, not any time soon. Mother doesn't know what my development is going to be like, but she suspects *something* is going to happen when I reach approximately a thousand rotations. Breeding? Death? Evolution? I don't know. Will you still be around? Will you want to be? It's nice to want to spend the rest of your life with someone, but what if that life lasts hundreds upon hundreds of years?" "Both Delalle and Dasham are... were... several hundred years old," Nescie said. "I don't think it's improved Dasham very much, but Delalle... It wasn't so much that he was powerful and wise, though he was, but that he knew what was important in his life, and he did it. I'm sorry he's gone; I think you would have liked to meet him. Looking at the two of them as examples, and at you, I'd guess that how you turn out after a few hundred years depends on the sort of person you were to start with." Jameson nodded. "I know. And I understand. I'm just worried. Maybe over-reacting? I mean, what about getting back here? Or back to Arkham? I've been places it would take me a hundred rotations, er, years to get back to ... randomizers, worm holes, time distortions, one-ways. Granted, this is a major link, but nevertheless, it's a possibility. That, plus, sometime in the next fifty years, I'm returning to Onari. That's going to take a LONG time, unless I hitch a ride someplace." She smiled absently, then looked back at him and frowned with concern. "I'm sorry, Nescie. I didn't mean ... I don't want to hurt you. I just ..." She spread her hands somewhat helplessly, then reached across the table and entwined her fingers with his. "And I AM worried about you. I have been since I got here. You haven't seemed ... happy, I guess." Smiling almost shyly, she went on, "I think perhaps I still consider you as my brilliant but vulnerable young friend. Especially now. I forget you've lived a lifetime. Become an adult. I still want to protect you from the real world." She grinned at him, then sobered slowly. "And I don't want something horrible to happen to you. Something for which I could never forgive myself..." "It's alright, Jaime. I think I understand," Nescie said. He fell silent for a moment, thinking, before he spoke again. When he did, his voice was gentle. "No one can say for certain what will tomorrow will bring: not scientists, nor mages, nor poets, nor time-travellers, nor gods. There are even those who believe the First Creator designed purely for the surprise of what would come next. "You're still rather young for an immortal, you know." The hint of a smile appeared in his eyes. "And, you're right. It wasn't fair of me to ask you for your forever. That's a long time, and I don't know if we'd last together, or even if I would live that long. "I do know this, though: I can see what I'd like to happen, even if I can't predict what really will come to pass, or what the world -- or worlds -- will be like a day from now, or a year from now, or a century from now. How about we take things as they come, dealing with them a day at a time, seeing what happens?" Jameson started to say something, then stopped. Opened her mouth again. Closed it. Finally she began laughing and Nescie smiled at her. "Yes. That would be wonderful. And, perhaps, I'll be able to let go of some of these worries. I'm planning on being here for a while anyway. We can take it ... slow." She smiled. They sat, lost in their own thoughts for a few moments, enjoying the contact between them. Suddenly, Nescie stiffened and paled. "What is it?" Jameson asked. He didn't answer, but he stood, pulling Jameson to her feet by her hands. "Nescie? Nescie, you're hurting me." He ignored her, turning his head to stare at one end of the table. Jameson briefly flexed her fingers. No way she could get him to let go without possibly hurting him. Looking at his face, she stopped moving and turned to see what he was watching. There was a sound like tearing paper, a rippling in the air, and a man dressed in the robes of Mage Guild Security appeared out of nowhere. There was some sort of bright light that shone like a flickering lantern from a hole torn in the cloth over his chest. In the cast of the light, Jameson could see pulpy redness, broken bits of white, and something that pulsated rhymically. Abruptly she realized she was looking directly at the man's heart through an opening in his ribcage about the size of his hand. It was Dieter. But his face was impassive, expressionless, slack, and there was something wrong with his eyes; they were dull black, empty, reflecting nothing. Dead inside. Mazn's eyes. She shuddered involuntarily. Nescie was still holding her fingers in a solid grip. A waiter stepped up to them smoothly. "Sir--" Dieter flicked his wrist, spattering Jameson and Nescie with blood, and the waiter was jerked up in the air, his head twisted to one side. Jameson heard the sharp crack of a breaking neck. The man twitched and went limp, suspended from an invisible noose. Why wasn't Nescie doing anything? "Nescie?" she said softly, pulling at his hands where he still held her. Slowly, so very slowly, he turned to face her... ...And she saw that his eyes were justlikeDieterseyesjustlikejustlike justlikeMaznseyesshecouldhearthesteadythumpingofanaxpoundingtwomatteb lackopeningsemptyemptinessnothingnothingnessmalevolencedespairandpart ofhimwaslaughingandpartofhimwascryingandpartofhimwasterrifiedandallof himwastearingscreaminglaughingandtheaxshecouldheartheaxthumpingcuttin gsprayingbloodthumpingfasterfasterslammingfasterhewascuttinghewas and she realized it was her heart, beating faster and faster as she began to understand that this was horror. This was madness. This. Nescie's mouth opened and he said, in a voice that was far emptier than any human being could manage: "MAR." A cold wind blew. The world imploded around her. --- Comments, compliments, and complaints can be conveyed to co-authors: Kelly J. Cooper & Bernie Hsiung kjc@cs.rutgers.edu bshsiung@eecs.umich.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [Observing] Run Away! Message-ID: References: <1up40r$dkt@c3po.jvnc.net> Date: Mon, 14 Jun 1993 18:22:05 GMT [ADMIN] This is a half-n-half post by Carl Fogelin and me. Carl can be found at (fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com) I can be found hiding under my desk. -00- Crombie half skipped, half ran down a narrow dark alley. He could see a pale glow of light ahead. Smiling a bit to himself, he increased his pace. As he got nearer the source of the light, he could hear some voices. Crombie smiled, almost laughed. 'Must be the Plaza of Glittering Steel' he thought. Now climbing haphazardly over some debris, he burst out into the intersection... only to disappointment. The light he had seen was a small fire, the wreckage of a collapsed building sputtering in the night. The voices he had heard belonged to a couple bedraggled men, picking through the building's unburnt remains. Upon sighting Crombie, one of the men smiled at him and said " 'ey govenor, spare couple copper?" Crombie almost wept. He's being chased by a beast and he's being targetted by beggars. He looked around and listened, but neither saw nor heard anything. Making a motion with his left hand to indicate 'hold on a minute', he bent over and tried to catch his breath. The beggars moseyed over to him, palms outstretched, a smile on their faces. Just as Crombie started to draw a couple coins from a coin pouch he heard a deep gutteral roar from the alley he had just emerged from. Without so much as looking back nor at the beggars, he dropped the coins and ran down another alley. The smile had drained from the beggars' faces. "What the 'el is 'at." muttered one. The other stooped to pick up the coins, keeping a wary eye towards the direction the sound had come from. Crombie ran as hard as he could, diving down whatever passage presented itself to him. He heard the cry of terror somewhere back behind him, and imagined what was probably happening to those men, but his mind refuse to take responsibility. It was fate. But he should have warned them... Once again his lungs started to burn and he was forced to take a rest. He leaned against the stone wall of a building and listened for the beast, but all he could hear was the rapid beating of his heart and the wheezing of his breath. 'Where the heck was he?' Pushing himself away from the wall, he looked around, trying in vain to find some landmark he knew. He seemed to be in some shop district, possibly trades. All was closed up and no one was around. Sighing, he reached down and pulled a small hand-held device from his utility belt. Tapping in codes, mostly from memory, but also by squinting in the bad light at the keypad, Crombie retrieved his map of Generica. "Dang, can't see nothing in this light" muttered Crombie. First looking back the way he had run, and then around the area, he entered a code to show the map as a laser image. A beam of light emerged from the box and quickly drew a simple city map on the wall of the building opposite him. The image shook from his shot nerves, but he was able to see enough to know he was in an area of the city he'd never been in before. Damn! 'Well' thought Crombie, 'where should I go.' Reason seemed to start to come back to him. 'Let's see, the Dragon's Inn is over there... that's back the way I came...' "Nope, don't want to go there" he muttered. As if to punc- tuate that decision, he heard the beast's roar -- still a distance, but much too close. Quickly looking back towards his map, he sighted that he wasn't too far from the temple district, or at least that main drag. He'd head that way. He turned the display off and reattached the box to his belt. Suddenly, a voice boomed "CROMBIE... I'M COMING FOR YOU!!!" Crombie screamed and then cursed himself for giving his position away. He took off down a street which sort of went the direction he wanted. He could feel the beast's eyes boring holes in his back and hoped that he had enough strength to get away, again. ***** The timelines were helpful - there was a particular fold that went back almost fourteen hours, right to the Arcade of Unforgotten Heroes. And the seeking-spell, looking for a man-shaped hole in the magic of the city, went right there. The white hawk arrowed down along the timefold, landing on the partial statue of a forgotten Unforgotten Hero. Pigeons fled in panic, the hawk became a white cat, which jumped lightly to the ground. There was a sound, someone running down the street, breath rasping and dragging. Something large, foul-smelling roaring along in the distance. The cat stood on its hind legs and with an entirely natural shrug, a youngish man in the robes of a priest stood in its place. He braced himself - the fleeing man staggered out of an alley, scrambling with exhaustion, and into his arms. "Crombie, you seem a little winded. Why don't you rest here?" "There's a big monster demon," Crombie tried to warn him. "Run, gotta run," he couldn't get going. "Demon? Well. Do you need help?" " Hell yes." "Good. <>" It might have been a trick of the light - the moon came out from a cloud, or something, but the area around the statue was suddenly more brightly lit than the street outside. The crashing roar came closer, and with a scream of hunger the Beast leaped out of the alley, on a perfect parabolic arc that would end with its teeth in Crombie's face. Midway through the arc it encountered the ephemeral brightness, and hit as though it were a three inch steel wall. Bones crunched, blood and other fluids smeared as it slid down the air to the ground. Kachin walked over to the edge of the protected area, and looked at the stunned Beast as it sat shaking its head, spattering against the unyielding walls of air. "Hello, beast. What's your name?" It looked at Kachin, trying to focus. "Who the hell are you?" it growled. "Just tell me your name, beast." "Fugoff," it replied, snarling. "That's not your name. But it will be if you don't answer me this time. For the third time I ask, what is your name?" Kachin bent over slightly, hands resting on his knees, but not going outside the lit area. "cowsplots." The beast muttered, "You ain't got no right to interfere." "No? He asked me for sanctuary. Now you, cowsplots, had best get back to your little ordure pit in the Infernos, before you get hurt up here." "Don't say that so loud!" "What, you afraid someone will conjure you by it?" "Look, I can give you stuff, I can grant you a wish, just don't tell anyone that name." "Ah. I'm going to tell it to Crombie over there. He's from a countermagic world. Now, isn't it true that you Inferno demons have your magic in your true names, and saying them is like touching your guts? Imagine what will happen if he says your name, say, four or five times? Or you could go away..." A look of fear crossed the bestial face. With a sound like celery being twisted, the monstrous body began to warp inwards around a point, looking something like water going down a drain, then with a gurgle, it vanished. "Good riddance." The young priest turned around and walked over to where Crombie was resting against the statue. He helped him to his feet and started them walking up the street towards the Dragons' Inn. "I'm so glad I found you," he said. "I wanted to talk before I left town." MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roger] Attacked ! Date: 14 Jun 1993 21:08:25 GMT Message-ID: <1vipc9$5si@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> Roger trotted on down the trail through the rocky hills, leaving the giant's corpse for the scavengers. It was now late morning, and the sun was climbing high into the sky. The trail wound beween the peaks of the hills, hiding his view of the surrounding area. After several sharp turns, Roger decided to climb one of the higher hills and figure out where he actually was. After a quick climb, he was at the peak, looking down at the trail. Roger cursed as he looked down the other side of the hill, and saw the corpse of the giant. He had wound up nearly where he had started. As he turned and scanned the rest of the area, though, he saw a pocket of woods among the hills, about a mile and a half to the north. He also saw that the trail wasn't a waste of time, it led to the glade. Satisfied, Roger started to climb back down. He climbed nearly to the bottom, and decide to jump the rest of the way. A moment after he jumped, a pair of arrows imbedded themselves into the cliff where he had been moments before. As he landed, he dropped to the ground and rolled back to the other side of the trail. He stopped as he came up against the opposite hill, facing up at the it's summit. Pebbles skittered down the steep hillside as a shadow moved away from the edge. Roger guessed that his enemy knew the area better than he did and decided that speed was better than stealth. He scrambled to his feet, and sprinted down the trail, heading for the grove of trees, the oasis among the foothills. Roger just hoped the oasis wasn't a mirage, or another trap. Roger moved down the trail, hugging its sides in an effort to keep under cover. He alternated his pace, trying to be unpredictable. He was just starting to think he had lost them when another arrow whizzed just in front of him as he slowed his pace. He reacted quickly, and ran as fast as he could, hoping to reach the clear before his adversary could react. Another arrow barely missed him, he actually felt it brush across his back, and then he was around a bend and in the clear. At least, he hoped so. He was starting to get winded when he turned a corner in the trail and saw the entrance to the glade. Roger ran several yards into the glade before finding a large oak tree suitable to hide in. He quickly climbed the tree, finally finding a place with enough foliage to conceal himself. He was about twenty feet above the ground, lying upon a thick branch and watching the ground visible below him. Roger patiently waited for the coming encounter. ----- The Jolly Roger aka Brian Shea aka taz@athena.mit.edu BTW, Does anyone read this? A quick note would be appreciated. MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roger] Up a tree... waiting. Date: 14 Jun 1993 21:15:10 GMT Message-ID: <1vipou$5si@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> Roger had been waiting in the tree ten minutes since he had entered the grove and had caught his breath, but there was still no sign of his adversary. He was about to climb down from the tree when he caught a flicker of movement on the ground, coming from the way he had. Roger waited, holding absolutely still, hugging the branch he was on. As he waited, the movement resolved itself into an elf, wearing green and brown leathers. Except that the elf had light green skin and dark green hair. Roger was dealing with a sylvan elf. The elf moved silently, scanning the area and holding his bow with an arrow half-drawn. Roger continued to wait, watching the elf silently move below him, hoping he wouldn't see him. Roger knew he was a sitting duck where he was. The elf slowly moved on, and was finally past Roger's tree. Roger waited a minute and was again about to climb down when two more sylvan elves moved into sight. The first elf was obviously meant to flush Roger out, and then the second two would have surprised and finished him. Roger waited a few more moments, until the elves were just past his tree, before dropping from his perch, swinging from a lower branch, and landing on the ground. He dodged around the tree, and saw the two elves turning to meet him. Roger kicked in the boosted reflexes, and the world around him seemed to slow, the branches of the trees seeming to move in slow motion when they had been swaying in the breeze. Roger drew his katana and quickly bowed to the elves as they dropped their bows and drew short swords. To his great surprise, they bowed back to him. Roger took up a fighting stance designed for multiple opponents as the elves moved apart, circling him in opposite directions. Roger suddenly realized that these elves were moving much faster than a normal human, almost at normal speed in his frame of reference. Roger started to worry, this wasn't going to be easy, not by far. The attack came in earnest as the two elves both leapt at him. Roger spun out of the circle of their attack, blocking one of the swords high and stepping out of the way of a low thrust. He started to work the forms, and was greatly dismayed when the elves started to respond. To an average onlooker, it wouldn't have looked like the three figures were fighting, it was too graceful. It was more of a dance. The not so average observer would note the feints flowing into strikes, the strikes turning into blocks to avoid the correct counterstrike, blocks then turning into feints, and the whole cycle repeating. To the rare observer, they would note that one of the figures was using a style designed to handle multiple attackers, and they would also note that the other two figures were using a style to take advantage of the same situation. To Roger, this meant big trouble. He was better and he was faster, but there were two of them. He wasn't sure how long he last before tiring. ----- The Jolly Roger aka Brian Shea aka taz@athena.mit.edu Hello, comments much appreciated. MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roger] Our Hero is Vanquished... Date: 14 Jun 1993 21:26:54 GMT Message-ID: <1viqeu$5si@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> The deadly dance continued, and the third elf arrived, drawn by the sounds of steel on steel. The third also dropped his bow and drew his sword, and then bowed deeply. The elf was aware that the human was an honorable opponent, he had to be to know the Way. As soon as Roger noticed the third elf, he knew that he didn't have a chance. He was holding his own against three, Roger and both of his opponents had many small cuts, but he would not survive three. Roger fought on, waiting for a lull in the storm. Finally, it came. The three elves stepped back as Roger executed a rather vicious and effective series and parries and counterstrikes. Before the three elves could regroup and reenter the fray, Roger sheathed his katana and knelt upon the ground, placing the katana on the ground before him. He then waited. His life was at the mercy of the three sylvan elves around him. The three elves paused, looking very surprised. Roger then listened as they spoke in a language he didn't know, he assumed it was elven. "Do we dare trust him? He is human, after all," said one of the elves. "Yes, but he seems to know the Way," said the newcomer to the group. "I don't know why, but I want to trust him. He must have honor, why else would he have surrendered in this way? But we shall be careful for now," the third elf said. He then spoke to Roger, in common. "Human, we accept your surrender. I am Endo, this is Kayell," he said pointing to the newcomer, "and this is Giarr." He pointed to the final elf. The elf dropped his arm, and waited for Roger's response. Roger spoke. "I am known as the Jolly Roger, but Roger will do. I know I am outmatched and offer my surrender. What are your terms?" Endo spoke, "Simply your word of honor to obey my commands. Do you know the Way?" "You have my word, but no. I do not know the Way. However, I can guess at it. I believe I know of something very similar from my own world. I offer you my katana," said Roger. "You may keep it as a sign of faith. But rest assured, we will be on our guard. Please, follow us." Roger stood, replacing his katana on his back. The elves recovered their bows, and Endo led the way deeper in the glade. Roger noticed that Kayell and Giarr flanked him with their bows ready. He wouldn't have even been able to draw his katana before he would have been a pincushion. The elves may be trusting, but they weren't foolishly so. Roger wondered where he was being taken, and figured he would soon find out. ----- The Jolly Roger aka Brian Shea aka taz@athena.mit.edu Hello, comments welcome. MagicHutchHeader From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Games] Resolution Date: 15 Jun 1993 13:04:26 GMT Message-ID: <1vkhcqINN5fs@news.gac.edu> In a certain glade, Black faces White over a chessboard. Their pieces are the mortal servants of other Powers. These have been taken and used without the consent of either; this is how the Elders get there amusement. In the realms of the gods, an argument rages. A bison-headed figure is arguing his case before the Highgod. Far away (or perhaps near-by), a land of blissfulness is disturbed. Its master senses a wrongness about him. In an arena, a minotaur and a human face off. One is the servant of a god, the other is a vessel for divine power. They do battle for the amusement of the Elders. ***Gods' Realm*** Kiri-Jolith sums up his arguments. "These Elders must be disposed of. They have no regard for the mortals; they lack any respect for their equals. For to long, these two have meddled and interfered in business beyond their bounds. It is time for this to end!" The Highgod is silent for a moment. Then he speaks. "So why have you done nothing before now?" "I gave my word. They would not molest my servant; I would not disrupt their games. But their word has been broken. Even now, my servant is in direct conflict with a human they have Powered. "He cannot hope to win, but fights on regardless. He hopes to draw my attention with his sacrifice, to buy me time to rectify this situation. My Lord, we MUST deal with it, now!" Slowly, the Highgod nods. "Others have expressed concern. You are correct, my son. It is time for a resolution." ***Arena*** Chanting echoes throughout the arean, and a spell bursts forth from the human. The minotaur roars with fury. His halberd, burning white, descends onto his former comrade. Barely, the killing blow is deflected. Instead, it simply maims. The human slashed out with a sword. Fire lances across the minotaur's chest as he misses the parry. The butt of his halberd strikes the human's knee, dropping him. Slowly, the minotaur backs away. And the human, filled with Power, rises to do battle again. ***Gods' Realm*** In a island of blissfullness, a deity observes the corruption of his servant. A call to council has been issued across the realm. There is a problem that must be dealt with, permanently. This deity nods. The sacrfices of his servant will not be in vain. ***Glade*** White looks apprehensively at Black. The Game has turned against him. White's piece is on the defensive before the emPowered piece of Black. Time and again, Black's piece has fallen, only to rise and renew the conflict. Worse, White's piece refuses to open itself to such emPowering. ***Arena*** The minotaur hits the ground, HARD. Dazed, he would be an easy target if the human could strike. But the human has other problems. A small reptile has appeared behind him and injected some type of poison that burns through the human's veins. Shaking his head the minotaur rises and lunges into battle again. The human turns and begins his attacks once more. ***Gods' Realm*** "So it is decided. The Elders have over-stepped their bounds and must be dealt with. Do we have any volunteers?" The deity from the garden steps forward. The Highgod turns to him and says, "Thank you, cousin. I, too, am bound by my son's oath. It is right that the other of us with a stake in this takes the action." "Indeed," says the deity. "The time has come. I go forth to deal justice..." ***Arena*** The combat has reached an unholy pace. Neither combatant will stop short of death now. Neither is allowed to. A sword thrusts between ribs. Claws lash out, shredding an eye. Fire envelopes a body, but is shed like water. A flash of light catches the blade of a halberd as it slices through flesh. A horn falls, cleaved in two. A dagger becomes stuck in a muscular thigh. A knee breaks from the blow of a halberd's haft. Fluttering to the ground, a small reptile is mortally wounded. Chanting resonates across the battlefield. A spearpoint catches a bicep. Another dagger lodges between ribs. Minotaur faces human. Raising his halberd, the minotaur howls his battle cry and brings his glowing weapon down of the human. The human smiles, strikes out with his sword. There is an explosion. And then... Silence... -Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur ****************************************************************************** Peace through strength! Victory through annihilation! Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roger] Going Up? Date: 15 Jun 1993 20:23:40 GMT Message-ID: <1vlb4c$8b4@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> As the small party went deeper into the glade, the trees got larger. Now, there were mighty oaks and elms towering high above their heads. Roger was confused, there was no way that the trees he had seen from the hilltop had been anywhere near as big as this. "Endo, where are we?" asked Roger. Endo looked at Roger for a moment before replying. "Patience, you will see." The four stopped at one of the trees, indistinguishable from the others to Roger. Endo pushed one of the bumps upon the tree, and it glowed amber for a moment. Endo looked at Roger and smiled. "You might want to move..." Roger looked puzzled, until he heard the sound above him. He quickly stepped out of the way as the wooden cage thumped to the ground, right where he had been standing. The cage was just like a bird cage, only big enough for about a dozen people to comfortably fit into. Roger figured it was like an elevator from back home, and his guess was proven correct as Kayell opened a door on the cage and they filed in. When the door closed, the cage started to rise, levitating through the air without any physical support. The elevator rose several hundred feet over the next several hundred feet exposing the elven city among the trees. Roger didn't know it, but these sylvan elves were not the barbarians that many of their kind were on most of the known realms, they were on par with the major races of elves if not more advanced in their own ways. The city was a network of platforms and bridges, similar to most tree cities. The design was very natural, the buildings themselves looked like parts of nature rather than manufactured things. The bridges seemed to be impossible, too graceful and elegant to support their own weight over their long spans, never mind the scores of elves travelling the bridges. Roger noticed that most of the elves were sylvan, but every now and then he saw representatives of all of the other elves, save only the drow. Roger looked up and saw a platform above them, with a hole for the cage to pass through. The cage stopped level with the platform, and Kayell opened the door and the group exited, stepping out upon the platform. Roger just stared in awe. An immense palace was before him, bridges radiating out from it in all directions. Roger had seen palaces before, but he had never expected to see one based on the oriental style of ancient Earth. "Home," said Giarr. "What an understatement," thought Roger. ----- The Jolly Roger aka Brian Shea aka taz@athena.mit.edu Hello, comments welcome. MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roger] Anticipation... Date: 15 Jun 1993 22:02:55 GMT Message-ID: <1vlguf$b0b@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> Roger was a little overwhelmed. The palace was a mix of ancient Eastern Earth cultures and elven culture. There were vases that could of been from the Ming dynasty, tapestries depicting both good and evil dragons, carved wooden screens with elven warriors and maidens, rugs with complex designs woven upon them, and so much more. The palace was opulent, but in a very specific way. Nothing was overdone, balance was maintained everywhere. But what there was was magnificent. After a brief conversation at one of the entrance gates, his elven escort had led him through the palace, going up several levels and taking many turns before finally coming to a plain door. "Roger, please stay here. You will have an audience as soon as is appropriate," said Endo. Endo opened the door, and gestured for Roger to enter. Roger entered to room, and went on a hunch. Inside the room, he turned and bowed to the elves, then said, "Domo arigato." The three elves looked astonished and stood stunned for a moment, before hastily bowing. "You will be summoned," Endo said as he closed the door. Outside the door, Kayell spoke excitedly, "I told you he knew the Way!" "That has yet to be seen," responded Giarr. Roger saw that the room was a cell, either for meditation of for prisoners. There was a futon in one corner of the room and across from it was a stool with a basin and a pitcher. The pitcher was full of water. Other than that, the room was empty. Roger tried the door, but found that it was locked. He resigned himself for a wait, and decided to give the elves the benefit of the doubt. He stripped down to his pants and started to do a long series of meditative excercises. It was several hours later when the door once again opened. Roger was deep in concentration, working complex forms, and didn't notice at once. It was only when he stopped that he noticed the servant waiting for him. "Pardon me, but your audience is soon. You have a few moments to prepare," said the servant, a young male sylvan elf wearing a plain white robe. He was obviously hinting that Roger should wash up before the audience. "Thank you." Roger quickly started to rinse off and clean up. "Are you a master?" asked the servant. "Excuse me?" Roger said as he was strapping his katana upon his back. "The forms... you work them well." "No, I'm not a master. Just something I picked up, it comes in handy in my line of work." The servant looked puzzled, but just said, "Please, follow me." After another winding trek through the palace, and many floors up, the servant stopped in a large antechamber. A large fresco covered the walls, depicting many battles in what appeared to be a history, and there were a pair of golden doors at the far end of the room, guarded by a quartet of sylvan elves wearing emerald green tunics with white hose and wearing long sword and dagger upon their belts. They looked very competent. "It should be but a moment," the servant said to Roger. Then, he left, leaving the way they had come in. Roger stood patiently, waiting for what was about to come. He had no idea what to expect. Finally, he heard a gong softly sound in the next room, and a guard opened one of the doors. He then gestured to Roger, motioning him to enter. Roger walked through the door, trying to be ready for anything. He wasn't. ------ ADMIN: Sorry if I am butchering anyone's culture, especially Eastern culture. It is not intentional, just my ignorance. The Jolly Roger aka Brian Shea aka taz@athena.mit.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: Re: [NTY] Palandun: The Hunt. Message-ID: <1993Jun16.051905.22636@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> References: <1993Jun14.070532.20509@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Wed, 16 Jun 93 05:19:05 GMT "Are you ready, sir?" Wilks asked, for the thirtieth blimp farking time. "Yes, already!" Palandun replied. "Jeez, you're just like my muth." (The th in "muth" is a hard th, like bathe, rather than bath. It is It-Attian slang for mother.) "See? I got my little bow and little arrows, I got my sword-" "Perhaps it wouls be advisable to leave the sword here." Wilks opined. "I can take care of it." "I don't think you can." Palandun pulled the scabbard and sword off his belt, then pitched it to Wilks. The valet caught it, but couldn't hold it up, the sword fell to the floor with a loud thump. "A Bismanian sword knows it's owner, and is rather...reluctant to serve anyone else. Even if you could pick it up you couldn't carve a stick of butter with it. Besides, Bismanian swordmen tend to be...Edgy withought their swords. You never can tell, you know." "A magic blade..." Wilks mused. "An unstealable blade." Palandun noted. (Noting to himself that that was not exactly true) "Listen, are you gonna lecture me on my cleaning habits, or can I go now?" Wilks smiled and bade Palandun go. "Are you ready?" Gunther asked, then, noting Palandun's look of exasperation: "Hey! I was just checking! C'mon, lets go." A rich generican hunt, at least in the Toodian style, goes like this: Servants are despatched to scare up some game and drive it back to camp. Meanwhile, the hunting party, arrows at the ready, stalks through the forest scaring the snark outta themselves to the point where they'll shoot any movement in the forest and ask questions later. After the first 500 yards Palandun resolved to stay in the middle of the group and move verrryyy slooowly. When the quarry (This time a giant boar) finally appeared, he was fully as jumpy as the rest of the party, only he was scared of his huntmates. "Here he comes!" Gunther shouted, hearing the boar crash through the underbursh. "Yack!" Palandun yelled, hitting the deck while his imagination turned him into a human pincushion. "Snorrrt!" The boar snorted. "Aaaaaa!" The four of them screamed, the three erect members loosed their arrows and then ran amok through the woods. There was a pause as the boar continued to work up it's ire and Palandun took in the sight of his quarry. The giant boar was as tall as a small pony. Shaped like it's smaller namesake, including a set of six-inch tusks that, palandun had no doubt, had no qualms about removing the internal organs of anybody who even looked like the people who had just put an arrow in it's ear and another in it's nose. "Hiya!" Palandun said, then, realizing that this was possibly the wrong sort of greeting for an irate boar: "Uh-oh. Aaaaaa!" Palandun got up and ran through the woods, the boar took a momemt to decide and set off in pursuit. Training took over, and Palandun realized that his was an unwise tactic. He should either turn and fight, or think of some way to evade the boar while holding still. A quick look over his shoulder told Palandun that turning and fighting was not an option. While returning his head to a forward and upright position, he almost smacked into a tree. This gave Palandun an idea. He grabbed the next passing tree, swinging around behind it. The boar, which must have been really irate, forgot to go around the tree while pursuing Palandun. There was another one of those pauses while each tried to decide what to do next. "Now!" A voice said, and three arrows imbedded themselves in the boar's side. The boar tuned towards it's new scource of pain, the other three hunters, and charged them. The three kept pumping arrows at the boar, and soon palandun was doing the same. The boar was looking pretty bad, with about twelve arrows in it, when it finally got to the other three. Amshran found himself in a very unfortunate spot, flew high into the air and landed with a crunch. Gunther managed to draw a shortsword and stick it in the boar's ribs. The boar ran another 50 yards, suddenly got very tired, and flopped over. Palandun was on top of Amshran before that, field-dressing his wounds. The Ramashani was pulled on a travois back to the boat, right in front of the boar. MagicHutchHeader From: dnichols@engr.latech.edu (Dennis Nichols) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Games] Finally Date: Wed, 16 Jun 1993 12:35:04 GMT Message-ID: Traveler looks at The minotaur before him. He has beaten this foe down, and all that is left is the final blow. Power fills him. magic flows through him. His mind is on the kill. He plays with the figure before him, antagonizing him, taunting him. T: What is this piece of trash I see before me. Is this some sort of mockery of man and beast? Have you any pride? I think if you did you would have killed yourself a while ago. TK: You know nothing of me. I am from a long line of proud warriors. I was the champion of my people. I am the minion of a good an trustworthy God. My god shall provide my escape. The power that flows through Traveler come from a trickster god from a planet he was visiting for a friend. He has ended up being a pawn in a game once again. A game he and six others joined him in. The others have been killed, lost, or wounded in their travels. The only two now left in the game are these two, and the Trickster god. Traveler tires of playing with this foe and comes toward him for the killing blow. T: Prepare to meet your God Thor-Kahn rises to meet his death as a true warrior. He is badly wounded, and can barely hold his weapon. His horn of justice glows brightly in his hands. Gleep, the pseudo-Dragon, lays to the side of the battle wounded, unable to help its friend any more. Suddenly he notices a subtle change in the Traveler. The power that emanated from him lessens for a moment. Traveler stumbles before Thor-kahn. Thor-kahn rises to the moment and starts to strike in that moment at the target that is given him, but stops short as his horn of justice stops glowing. The danger seems to be gone. ----- Meanwhile in the realm of the gods Eru, the God of Peace intervenes in behalf of one that trusted him to keep him from harm. He steps into the glade where the brothers are watching their game. Eru: You will not be permitted to continue this game. You will not be permitted to toy with the lives of men you don't you don't know. You will be banished from this glade to separate parts of the galaxy. Your game board will be destroyed. Twins(in unison): You cannot separate us !!! we will not be able to exist without each other. Dark Twin : You do not have the authority or the power to banish us!! White Twin: You would not banish one that has fought for you side many times would you. Eru: You will not die, separated. You will suffer the torment you have given others. I do have the authority, and the power. All the realm has come against you to banish you. You have crossed all boundary lines. There is not one of us you have not wronged at some point in history. You my GOOD friend have fought for your side only. There have been time when your side and my side happened to be the same side. With a nod of his head and a spoken word the brothers vanish. There is a hiss as the brothers separate, and there is a scream of agony heard throughout the universe. ------ Traveler and Thorr-Kahn find themselves alone on Generica. Both dazed, both Injured, and both very unsure of where they are. Traveler looks at Thor-kahn with a strange look in his eyes. Thor-kahn readies himself for battle again, and notices that the horn of justice is not glowing. Suddenly Gleep Swoops down and flutters around Thor-Kahn chirping, and whistling wildly. Thor-Kahn: Are you sure my little friend? " Well friend, " Thor-Kahn speaks to Traveler, " it seems as though we are back from whence we started. " He gets up from where he was and starts walking towards the familiar town of Generica. Traveler gets up and walks the same way. The only words that are spoken are by Traveler to Thor-kahn. Traveler: " See ya at the Dragon's Inn. Save me a spot, I'll be there in a little bit. " Traveler doesn't walk toward town as he started out, instead he finds a shady place beneath some trees and sits down. He thinks back to just before they entered the portal. That was the last thing he remembered till just a few minutes ago when he found himself sitting next to Thor-Kahn sword in hand. What happened to him, where did he go. " Oh well, another time I suppose" he mutters to no one in particular. He mutters a silent prayer, something he hasn't done in a while, and something that will bug him as to why he did it for a long time to come. MagicHutchHeader Date: Tuesday, 15 Jun 1993 12:12:24 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93166.121224344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] A Year of Barside Evenings [ADMIN: Credit for the title should really go to Andrea Evans, though she didn't know I'd post this. Thanks also in advance to Jill Thomas, even if we never really talked (and thus little is done)...] The night wore on, time losing most of its meaning for Lancos and Arienne. Outside, children stayed up later than they should have to watch fireworks; people fought off and succumbed to demons; evil warped a hero, but was defeated -- for now --, with only good coming from it. All this would not be noted by this duo, who preferred to spend the night in conversation. Lancos sat with facing a corner, his back to the crowd -- thus he would miss what happened to his friend Luthor --, and happily traded stories and bits of his life that he wished to be repeated with the beauty he saw before him. But there is wisdom behind the saying "All good things must come to an end.". And so it did for them, Arienne feeling the tiredness from a long day first. They rose together, the warrior adding "Allow me to escort you up.", and extending an arm. Arienne allowed herself to blush slightly. She slipped her arm around his gently, and pressed closer. They slowly made their way across the room and up the stairs. They gained the attention of more than one pair of eyes along the way, although neither of them cared about that. Soon -- all too soon, as far as Lancos was concenrned -- they reached her room. She unlocked the door, and went in. The warrior was about to leave, when she reappeared in the entryway, and he found his heart pounding in his chest a bit. Finally, she spoke. "I _would_ invite you in, but I suppose you could say I like things slow. And we've both got big days tomorrow." Something told her to not end this tonight. Greed? Probably, since he wasn't the only one that she could enact her brand of revenge upon, and the quest could easily add to her wealth of possessions. Adventure? Maybe, since it _had_ been a while since she'd done anything like this. Attraction? 'NO!' she told herself, that could not be... could it? The more animalistic side of Lancos was disappointed. But the practical and romantic parts were only further charmed by her words -- she _did_ seem to have a talent for pushing the right buttons. Arienne saw the expression on Lancos' face, and smiled both inside and out. "Well," she said, her purr returning in her voice. "I suppose a good night kiss would do no harm. She grabbed him, and quickly grinned when she felt no resistance. Their lips pressed, and after a few seconds, so did their tongues. They held this pose for around a minute, though to the participants, it seemed _much_ longer. Hot breath warmed each of their necks; all outside noise was diminished, replaced with the sound of skin touching skin and their hearts beating in their ears; the smell of the other's natural scent filled the air nearby. Sight was closed off, disregarded along with time in favor of this moment of passion. Their eyes opened; their lips parted again. And after this, there was no reason for more words of goodbye. Arienne quietly entered her room and closed the door. A sigh escaped Lancos' mouth the moment she disappeared. He realized that he had a lot of thinking to do. And he knew he could not do it effectively in the Dragon's Inn; he would have to be alone with his thoughts. Outside, then... he would have to return to the outdoors, to the realm of nature which he had spent more of his time in than not. He went to his own door, and unlocked it. He picked up and carried Bast, who had remained quiet and largely unnoticed the entire night. In fact, the warrior realized, the cat had never really spoken at all, and had not been that finnicky since that first day they had met. But time to reflect on that would come later. He set Bast down on the bed, and allowed her to become comfortable. As he prepared places for her to eat and something in case nature called, he spoke to her. "I'm going to go away for a bit. I know I can't just thrust nature on you -- I almost made that mistake with Little Rat. And I know you can take care of yourself, so no complaining either. Besides, I'll be back tomorrow, so it's not like you'll have to worry about starving to death or anything." Lancos felt a little silly talking to the animal, despite the intelligent way its eyes followed his movements; the way she looked at him, but somehow it also felt _right_. He smiled to himself as he realized that at worst, it was another sign that he needed to clear his head. He exited the room, locking and closing the door behind him. He again trodded upon the stairs of the Dragon's Inn, quickly making his way down. On impulse, he decided to take the back way out, not really feeling like encountering the party again. By this time, he figured that things would have quieted down in much of the town, but he took the less-traveled paths for safety's sake. He wasn't worried about being threatened, especially on a night like this, when any thief would have a _much_ easier target in some drunken partygoer. However, just in case, he remained focused, not allowing unnecessary thought enter his mind -- yet. He stayed in this mindset all the way to the East Gate. Somewhat surprisingly, there was a guard on duty, and a sober one at that. "Ho there." the guard said. "Kinda late to be out ta the woods, don't ya think?" Lancos smiled. "Maybe for some, but you could say I'm more used to these sort of hours. Besides, I'm able to handle myself out there, even in the dead of the night." The guard looked him up and down. Apparently satisfied with his ranger-like attire, he nodded. "All right. Mainly wanted ta make sure ya weren't drunk -- gotta watch out for stupid people, tonight especially. Just make sure you're still in the same condition when ya come back." He opened the gate, and motioned for the warrior to quickly step through. Lancos smiled as he followed the directions. "If all goes well, I should be _better_." He stepped through, and continued onto the woods. The guard behind him stratched his head a bit in puzzlement, and closed the gate. Then he went onto the most important job in a night shift: trying not to fall asleep. * * * * For much of the night, Lancos was content to just walk around. The wind in his hair, the sounds of animals filling the air, the thick grass under his feet; all were familiar to him, and comfortable in a way. He became one with the forest as best he could, making no marks and changing nothing where it was at all avoidable. He headed south and slightly to the east, trusting his personal compass to keep directions for him. He eventually came upon a cave, and it was there he decided to do his thinking. The cave was very large and spacious. In fact, it was the exact cave of the blue dragon -- that Luthor and his companions had come upon -- had inhabited, although Lancos did not know that. Nor would he find out, for he was content to make his makeshift camp near the entrance, and not explore further. Instead, he settled down, and tried to get some rest. But his mind would not allow him the respite, and he found himself reflecting on his life to date: ... [ADMIN: Sorry, folks, looks like I'll have to do this in two parts, due to time constraints. More later (today), though, I assure you...] Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roger] Pretty woman. Date: 16 Jun 1993 17:11:47 GMT Message-ID: <1vnk8j$nuv@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> Roger walked through the set of worked golden doors, trying to be prepared for anything. He wasn't. It was a large room, and there were two other exits to both side. Around the perimeter of the room, exquisitely detailed wooden screens stood. Each screen depicted a species of dragon, from the common white dragon to the unique platinum dragon. The floor was white marble, except at the far end, where there was a rug with a forest scene depicted upon it. Upon the rug was a chair, a simple wooden chair. But the woman sitting upon the chair was by no means simple. She was a woman, but other than that had the ageless quality of the elves. She was not beautiful, but just the way she held herself, the aura of power and intelligence, made he positively glow. She was a sylvan elf, with very pale green skin and long flowing hair the color of the sea on a stormy morning. Roger stopped at what he thought was an appropriate distance, and bowed very deeply. Then, he waited. As the woman was studying him, he became aware of the other people in the room. On both sides of the room stood various elves, wearing clothing appropriate for trades from soldier to merchant to priest. "Do you know the Way?" asked the woman in common. Her voice was like music. "No." Some of the people around the room stiffened. "'No, your highness,' you mean," she gently chided, smiling. "Some people like a bit of formality. "It would be the least I can do, your highness." Roger felt much more at ease now. "Please, explain how you know the forms and at least pieces of the Way." "I am from another world." Roger looked around him, and continued. "I mean another world than Nexus. On my world, Earth, I studied the martial arts. I am a soldier of sorts, and it proved very useful. The underlying values of discipline, honor, and respect were learned as well. I found these concepts to provide a balance for myself, and I try to live by them, your highness." "It seems that you do know the rudiments of the Way. Would you be willing to stay with us for a time? Our masters would like to have a chance to study your technique. In return, you will be able to study ours. Also, you will be compensated for your time. You may refuse." "What else do I have to do? This could be fun," Roger though to himself. "Thank you, your highness. I accept your generous offer." "You may go." The woman directed her attention to one of the merchants, and a servant led him out of the room. The servant silently led him to another room in the palace. This time, the door had some scrollwork and was much more furnished. "You will be given a tour in an hour. Please, make yourself comfortable in the meantime," said the servant before leaving. Roger sat down on the bed and smiled. "Adventure..." ----- ADMIN - Dave (who sent me mail), I didn't get your email address with you message. Drop me a note, and I'll send you the previous entries in this mini-thread. ----- The Jolly Roger aka taz@athena.mit.edu aka Brian Shea Hello, comments welcomed. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roaming] Farreach Message-ID: <1vos2mINN472@news.gac.edu> From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Date: 17 Jun 1993 04:31:18 GMT Watch Commander's log, western gate of Farreach, June 13, 1993: "It is with some misgivings that I allowed two of the strangest companions I have ever seen to enter Farreach today. One was a man of medium height and build. His grace showed his elven ancestry, even with his recent wounds. This one has a story that any bard would be envious of. "The shorter of the two was heavily cloaked. He had a worn short bow; there seemed no reluctance to use it either. But something about the way he walked...it reminded me of something I had seen as a lad in the hills. And when he passed, a smell lingered, one I should have recognized. "It was only later that it occurred to me that the smell was goblin. I passed along word, but the two have disappeared. I wonder, what kind of elf travels openly with a goblin? I fear I may never know..." *** Pheu the Mighty and Thaddius had made moderate time. They reached the town of Farreach almost exactly when the goblin expected them to. It seemed the little ranger had connections in the area. "Pheu a long way from home," he informed the half-elf. "But that not mean I can'ts get us someplace. Where you goings, elfs?" The question caught Thad off-guard. He really had no idea what to do, now that there was no immediate danger. For the last several days, he had prayed for guidance. But it seemed that Chan-Da'all was leaving him to his own devices. The goddess gave no specific urgings. So Thaddius decided to pursue her aspect as Seeker. "Pheu," the half-elf asked, "where are the closest centers of civilisation? I am a stranger to this...land, and wish to learn of its peoples and cultures." A gleam entered the goblin rangers eyes. "Stranger to world, you maybe mean?" Pheu hurried on. "You want Generica, center of Known Lands. Maybe Pheu make arrangements to get you there. I see what I can do." The little creature started off down the street. "Meanwhile, elfs find us place to stay. Since yous own me, yous can pay. Go to Broken Bar, get room on ground floor. Me sneak in later, when nobody chase Pheu. I go look for Pheu's friends, arrange passage. " "Done," said Thad. The two parted company. Thaddius wandered through the centeral market. Before he took care of laodgings, other business was in order. It was not long before a weapons dealer appeared. Several minutes later, Thad emerged with a handsome quarterstaff. Giving it a twirl, he set off in search of the Broken Bar, following the dealer's directions. It wasn't long before he found it; it took even less time to get a "small room in the back for myself and an unnamed companion." The barkeep just shook his head. "Don't cause trouble, I won't ask questions." "Not a problem," Thaddius quickly agreed. "I am just passing through." Several hours later, a knock came at the window. Thad peered out and saw a small cloaked shape waving its bow. "Lets me in, Thads! I gots us passage!" whispered Pheu loudly. He leapt up and squirmed through the window. "Raft headed east tomorrow. We get passage in return for guard duty and help unloading. But gotta provide own food. You mind?" "Not at all, my little friend," replied Thaddius. "I assume we depart early and should rest?" "Yah. You takes beds. Pheu not like all that padding and feathers. Gives me shivers," said the ranger. Thaddius climbed into bed. Pheu blew out the candle and curled up on the floor muttering. A smile crossed Thad's face as he heard, "Stupid elfs. Not have ot rub in how short Pheu is. I show him tomorrow..." The voice faded off into goblin snores. Sleep came less easily to Thaddius. His mind wandered far and wide. Foremost in his thoughts was the Lady Ellen. The brush with the ogres raised certain questions in his mind. Was he right to leave so soon before the wedding? Could she manage by herself? Would either of them be able to continue their travels without mortal fear for the others safety? Weighty questions for a young mind so far from home. With an effort, the half-elf banished them from his mind. They had already been discussed a thousand times. Both he and Ellen were certain it was better to love now than to wait. Because of the distances and paths they Roamed, one never knew what might happen. The moment should be seized; it might never present itself again. Thad's mind turned to his lady. Comforted by the smile on her face, he drifted to sleep. *** Worlds away, a warrior layed down to rest. The battle had ended; they had emerged victorius. Lady Ellen pulled her bedroll close around her and muffled the sound of her sobs. Her friends knew her pain, but if they had asked she would have admitted to the heart-ache but denied the fear. Far distant, Ellen knew her knight wrestled with difficult problems. She only hoped that he would soon return to her. The lady had sworn never to let anyone this close again. But somehow, the half-elf had slipped into her life. Soon, neither was complete without the other. 'He will return,' she thought. 'He always has. And I have always managed to wait. This is not different.' Slowly, the pain was brought to bay once more. Lady Ellen smiled at her doubts, finally at ease, and let much-needed sleep claim her. -Thaddius Farsinger "Love now. Love hard, love well. Because there is no certainty that a tomorrow will exist for you to love in." ****************************************************************************** Sometimes, those you love most are the ones you have to leave behind. Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Who Needs Enemies... Message-ID: <1993Jun16.030624.19359@data-io.com> Date: 16 Jun 93 03:06:24 GMT [ADMIN: Written by Bernie Hsiung and I. The beginning of the article parallels part of Steve Hutchison's 'Taken In Ambush' and the end of 'Forging Fine Silver'. Some of the lines come from 'Taken In Ambush'. This article comes immediately after 'White Rabbit Blues'. Hopefully this'll help. Grin.] ------ Kardia took 'Raelf's black staff in her hands. Her stomach dropped as they seemed to drop through the air. The world blurred and then she hit the ground, knees bent for the impact. "Oooof." Her legs were still sore from the workout. She took a breath and found that they were on the Arcade of Fountains, just beyond the bridge over the Ceru. The Mage Guild was in sight. The day was about ready to die, she could see the pale shadow of the moon in the deep blue of sky between shreds of the last of the rain clouds. She let go of the staff and met 'Raelf's eyes. She grinned and nodded. They walked towards the Guild. A man approached them, looking directly at 'Raelf. He seemed to ignore Kardia altogether, so she stepped aside. "Dieter. I thought you were off duty." 'Raelf frowned in puzzlement. "I am. I'm just waiting for a friend." "O.K. See ya later." The man nodded and said softly, "Be seeing you." Kardia walked on and then suddenly realized that 'Raelf was *not* by her side. He was still talking with Dieter. She walked back towards them and heard a scrap of conversation that sent a chill up her spine, "We control the video, we control the audio. Sit back, relax, as we take you on a trip beyond..." Dieter was making a gesture that deliniated a circle around 'Raelf and him. "The Outer Limits." She ran into an invisible wall. Kardia pounded on it with fists that ached and then switched sights. A malestrom of energy within a fragile shell with two still figures in the center. She switched back, and there were just two men talking. Kardia stood there, undecided. This sure didn't look like a war or a pitched battle. She could still hear the conversation too, and it was really weird. "Quite a nice place you have here. Love what you've done with the furniture." "Oh, these old things?" "No, really, who's your interior decorator?" "My DEAR friend Mar." Kardia paced outside the shell, looking at the two men and tuning out the conversation. She shook her head and then swapped sights. There were four 'Raelfs against... "AR'ELYA!!" Kardia yelled to the world and then "DARIEL!!?" For a very long moment, she felt really stupid just yelling those names to the empty air. The folks walking towards her crossed the street to walk the other side, away from her. She grinned a little helplessly at them. Then a bright light came from the darkening sky. Blindingly bright, yet it didn't hurt. As the light fell on her, she suddenly felt that things might still turn out all right, despite what she'd seen within that shell. Then a furl of wind and the impression of white wings at the edge of an eye and there were two figures before her. One silver and shining as hard and bright as the swords Alistair used to keep bracketed on his wall. The other surprised her. He was just a man, with untidy brown hair that fell into his blue, blue eyes, in robes of pure white. He grinned at her a little shyly. Then she took a look with her mage sight and reflexively put her hands over her eyes. She swapped back quickly but couldn't get rid of the black spots. They looked at her. Kardia pointed at the two quietly talking men. She saw those blue eyes widen. Both of them turned towards the conversation and ran into the same wall that she'd run into. "'Raelf told me to get the Mage Guild folks, too..." she said, and the blue eyed man glanced at her and nodded, quick and hard. "Do it." Kardia sprinted towards the Guild. Her legs protested the rough treatment, but she ignored them and concentrated on lengthening, smoothing her stride and breathing with them. She hit the revolving door centered and popped through into the glare of the receptionist. "Dasham... Urcohea..." Kardia gasped out. "I need them both... NOW...." She gulped air and at what 'Raelf told her. "Code Black." "You can't..." Kardia flung her shawl over her head, onto the desk. It hit the surface with a loud popping noise, and then writhed in a fierce blue lightning. Kardia's eyes went wide at exactly *how* much power was running through her shawl. The receptionist leapt backwards, overturning his chair, and hastily tore off his suddenly useless, static-filled, glasses. Kardia tugged, then set and pulled her shawl free of the lightning, flipping it back over her head to cover her back. A shrill alarm rang through the building. Almost immediately, there was a loud >KA-RACK<. Kardia threw herself to the floor, rolling, trying to get around to the other side of the desk, wanting to be out of the line of fire. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a plume of green smoke and the air whistled once, then twice. Something slammed into her side. She screamed to push the pain away, "DAMNIT! CODE BLACK. You IDIOTS. I'm here to WARN YOU!!" She struggled to keep moving for cover. No third shot. "CODE BLACK. 'Raelf needs HELP!" The last came out in a shriek when she blindly hit the desk with her side and the world started to fade from the pain. A pair of hands touched her. She pulled back, but they steadied her and helped her sit on the floor, leaning against the desk. The sitting movement made her gulp for air. A woman's voice said, "Damn it, Kuso, I didn't tell you to do that. She doesn't look very dangerous." "Uh huh, that's just what she'd want you to think, Coral. Can you believe it? One person. She took down the whole bloody communications well." Kardia moaned in exasperation. The gentle hands that had helped her up patted her on the head like a puppy. "You're exaggerating, Kuso. I-- Archmage Urcohea?" Kardia opened her eyes, and found that the edges of her vision were black. Her side was ominously numb. She touched her side and it came away wet. Damn. A brown-haired woman -- Coral? -- was kneeling by her. There was a lower-case Greek gamma inscribed on the sleeve of her robe. She was staring at a man in his late forties who carried a staff of dark wood. "I'm Archmage Urcohea," the man with the staff said. "Who are you and what do you want?" "I'm..." "What in the twenty-two Hells do you think you're doing with my guest?" Even though Kardia had only heard it once before, Archmage Dasham's voice was unmistakable. Or perhaps it was her tone of voice. She moved into Kardia's field of view, and froze. "I don't believe this. You shot her." She glared at Urcohea. "You shot my guest." "She did short-circuit the entry switchboard," one of the other mages said. Kardia shifted and gasped as her side stabbed at her. The room faded just a second and came back to Dasham's threatening voice. "...your trigger-happy goons away from her, Urcohea, or I'll move them myself." "Coral, Kuso, Tomas, please give Archmage Dasham some room." "I didn't get anything from a standard scan," Coral said helpfully as Dasham took her place. Kardia looked up, swallowing against the pain. "Of course not," Dasham said distainfully. "She has a magic- neutralizing scarf. That's probably the awesomely powerful weapon which she used to crash the comm board, for which you shot her. Let me take the scarf off, Kardia, or I won't be able to help you." "It's a shawl, not a scarf." Kardia couldn't believe she said that, and half felt like hysterically laughing or screaming. She fought to keep her voice level. "'Raelf is in trouble. He needs help. He said to tell you two," she looked Urcohea in the eyes and then met Dasham's surprised gaze, "that it's Code Black. He's in deep shit, ma'am." "Where is he?" Dasham snapped. Kardia nodded at the doors, "Right out there on the Arcade of Fountains about twenty meters towards the Ceru. He's fighting some Dieter..." Coral gasped and started to speak, but Urcohea interrupted her. "Exactly how much is a meter?" "Yard, span, pace..." She saw a number of other mages pop in, and Urcohea left with a number of them out the revolving door before she could think of a fourth near equivalent. Kardia trailed off as the world dipped. Cool hands on her face. "Kardia, let me take off your shawl." She took a deep breath feeling the energy come in and she fought back the black edges of the darkness taking her in. She came back enough to nod, "Hai." Then she let go and the world faded away. -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader From: corleyj@helium.gas.uug.arizona.edu (Jason D Corley ) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: The Day After [Pitzar][AU] Message-ID: <1993Jun17.195710.21656@organpipe.uug.arizona.edu> Date: 17 Jun 93 19:57:10 GMT When I woke up, they both were gone. I rested outside on the warped and faded boards of the back porch. The waist-high grass came up to the edge of the rain-beaten steps, and stretched golden- brown into the distance. I chewed slowly on a tasteless hunk of bread. She had taken everything and left no note. I thought about writing the article now, but I had to find out why she left, first. I could see the hoofprints slashing off across the fields in a straight, true line. I looked back, back towards the city, where the sun would just now be clearing the first few buildings. I could just make it up. Nobody would know anything different. Nobody would care---the fact that there were unicorns left in the world was the story---why they would suddenly disappear in the night was not. The sky was clear, the sun shone mindlessly down on me. The rope on the crumbling well had broken and rotted. I managed to tie enough of it together to hoist a few swallows of cool, dark water from the depths of the blackness. When I looked up, there was a small white flash far out on the fields before me. It streaked straight along the path of the hoofprints, straight for me, stopping abruptly at my feet, shining brightly with sweat and unstained whiteness. "Hey, kid." I said. Sheryl danced uncomfortably back and forth on her little hooves. She whined and let out small moaning nickers. "Terrific. Is this going to turn out like one of those kids' stories? Binky the Unicorn Saves The Day? " Sheryl snorted and prodded me lightly with her horn. I had no doubt she could prod harder if she liked. "All right, all right, what is it? Never mind, bad question. Is it about Andrea?" Sheryl nodded. "Is she all right?" Sheryl shrugged and looked at me urgently. "She's in trouble?" Sheryl nodded again. "The brigands again? No, hunters!" She nodded feverishly. "How many?" Sheryl pawed the ground twice and opened her eyes very wide, the deep, unearthly blue pupils dilating slightly in the bright sun. "You saw two." Sheryl nodded. I stepped up into the house, hearing the floor creak beneath my boots. I hoisted my knapsack over my shoulder, feeling it's familiar weight. Sheryl stood outlined in the door, a strange white silhouette. "Okay, let's go." We walked back across the field. It took us a few hours walking to cover the area Andrea and Sheryl probably covered in a couple of minutes. It would have taken us longer, but Sheryl had a sense of urgency surrounding her that charged the air with expectation and tension. Toward sunset, Sheryl seemed to sense something. She turned, started running. I followed as best I could. Then she stopped, so abruptly, I nearly ran into her. I dropped to my knees. Sheryl crouched down low, as well. "They're near here?" I whispered. Sheryl nodded. She sniffed the air carefully, then jerked her head left. "Keep quiet." I said. "Follow me." The grass rustled and cracked beneath us. It closed in behind us. We slid along, close to the ground, until I heard the voices. "Well, she's gotta come out of the river somewheres. So we gotta follow it this way." "If we get her, how much do you think we can get for her?" "We can get whatever we want, whatever the hell we want, brother." I motioned Sheryl to keep following them on this side. I doubled bac and got on the other side of them, crawling on my belly, holding my breath for as long as I could. They stopped, and we both froze. "Did you hear something?" "Naw." "All right. Just thought I..." I jumped, and yelled as loud as I could. I slapped the bow out of one hunter's hands and twisted his arm around behind his back before he could react. Then I put my long-handled knife to his throat. We were both still trembling, when I saw that Sheryl had the second hunter at hornpoint. "Sit down, fellas." They nervously looked from me to her, sizing us up. "She's a little unpredictable. You didn't REALLY want to shoot her sister, now did you? You were just too excited. Now, we don't want to get excited again, right? You've had enough excitement for one day. So sit down. Rest a bit." Sheryl played right into the part, snarling and letting a little drool escape from between her lips. She jabbed her horn at the pair, letting it circle around in front of them. It glowed slightly. I could see their eyes following that deadly point and every move it made. For a minute I thought she was overdoing it, but the hunters seemed not to notice. They sat down. *********************************************************************** >From the Generican Examiner, weekend edition, "INTERVIEW WITH A UNICORN HUNTER--- Special Correspondant Jake Pitzar Les and Michael Grawton never expected any trouble when they went out hunting this morning. Of course, they didn't expect to see a unicorn halfway through the day. 'We never thought in a million years we would ever see a unicorn.' Les stated. Michael added 'We thought they were just stories Gran-maw would tell us.' Unicorns were, and apparently are, white horses with a single horn protruding from their forehead. They used to be quite widespread, but hunters like the Grawtons reduced their population to almost nil. Few people ever see a unicorn, and those that do usually portray it as a mystical and beautiful experience. The Grawton's first response was: "Shoot it." Les said, "Getting one of them woulda made us rich." Were they aware unicorns are protected creatures under many countries laws? ", they'd have to come and find us," Michael said. The pair encountered the unicorn while hunting near the Lopine River, many hundred miles northwest of Generica. This reporter has also sighted the unicorn, several times, and can confirm that this terribly endangered creature is not extinct as previously thought. More from the banks of the Lopine will follow in the _Examiner_." *************************************************************************a We let them go. They were frightened enough that they headed straight home, straight back to the hills far to the north. They'd seen Andrea (as a unicorn, of course) fall into the river. Sheryl and I had only gone about a mile downriver when we heard the shout. -- **************************************************************************** "The trouble with radicals is that they read only radical literature and the trouble with conservatives is that they don't read anything."-Thomas Carter Jason D. "corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu" Corley is a walking disclaimer. MagicHutchHeader From: albert@chain.ssctr.bcm.tmc.edu (Rick Jones) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [GATM] Krupp [Low City] The Game's Afoot Date: 15 Jun 1993 20:32:48 GMT Message-ID: <1vlblg$2qs@gazette.bcm.tmc.edu> A week or so had passed since that strange party. 'Raelf and ar'Elya helped me dig out a few hundred gold from the cellar of the warehouse, and ar'Elya, in her Lady Ale form (Bog, help me, I was getting used to their wierdness) arranged me getting a new office. 'Raelf wanted to decorate it, and put in all kinds of magical geegaws and grot. I put my foot down. I didn't want my clients to be intimidated by the decor. Heck, I didn't want to be intimidated by the decor. I did let him put in a chair that would alter itself to fit the heinie of the sitter, but no "automatic detection suite", no "maxwells-demon-powered refrigerated beverage dispenser", and especially "no dna-and-truename-keyed automatic skip tracer", whatever that was. He did do a nice job on the advertisement for the Dragon's Inn bulletin board. I realized that I was going to have to change my clientelle, thanks to me being dead and stuff. I also managed to do some looking into Ale's request. Something _was_ funny in Low City. I wasn't laughing though. A few important gangstas had turned up dead recently. Now, in Generica, when something is supposedly impossible, it means that it'll happen nine times out ten, but five suicides seems a bit odd. I guessed my shapechanger or whatever from the Warehouse was keeping busy. The problem was that I didn't see who was gaining from it. In fact, it seemed like nobody was gaining from it. I supposed that the killer might be a rogue demon, like those poozers from the party, but 'Raelf said they were taken care of. Besides, this started before the party. And there were some other things that didn't make sense. There were strange things turning up missing. Fabric, softwoods, heck, someone nicked a few miles of string and thread. I asked 'Raelf if he thought a mage was behind this, since I heard they needed funky stuff for their dprlld. He said no. My reverie was broken, when there was a knock at the door. "S'open," I said. In came Zip, with Lotus perched on his shoulder. I had hired the kid to be my eyes and ears downcity. He slept in the corner of the office sometimes and I paid him a copper a week. Yeah, I'm a big softy. You got a problem with that? "Any news?" I asked. "Neg. No new 'jects been scammed. No new deaders. The bug got neg scan too." The "bug" hopped off Zip's shoulder and sat down in the ashtray on my desk, and started smoking. "Ahh, feels good," he said, smoke wafting from his mouth, nose and ears. "Nothing new, boss. Tings are quiet." I walked over to a wall map of Generica 'Raelf tacked up. He got grumpy when I told him to keep it flat, and not to update itself, but I was firm. There were a bunch of pins stuck in, where the thefts had occured, and different colored pins where the murders had occured. I had stared at it for days, and there still wasn't a pattern. Lotus looked over at me, and blew a few smoke rings. "So, you got a clue, shamus?" "Nope, does this look like a demon's name, or a magic rune or something?" I asked. Zip was looking at the wall map. It took a while to explain maps to him, but once he got it, he took to it like wildfire. I was debating teaching him to read. Maybe later, I thought. "Nope," said Lotus. "Scans like shinys on a Mapuv Generica. Makes sense like Charlie," added Zip. "Well, foo." Whatever was going on, it was confined to Low City, mostly. But some new pins were popping up on the edges of it, moving towards Merchant's Hill. It was growing, but chaoticly. "Maybe it's a nutcase, like the Gutt Man." Zip looked up from a somewhat brown apple he had produced from a pocket. "Neg Gutt Man. Gutty's ick, but Gutty's a shiv. No nog. He whacks kids cuz they're too small to fight. Most kids anyways. The mister you scanfor has muchnog, else you'd whack him, Mister." Zip had a high impression of my deductive abilities. And I confess I didn't discourage it. Lotus snickered at that, and went back to blowing smoke squares. "How about we look at it from the theft point of view. My guts tell me the thefts and the murders are related. If by nothing else, than the same guy's doing it. So, what can you make from those things?" Lotus and Zip looked at me expectantly. "Some help from the audience might be helpful." "Beats me, boss," said Lotus. Zip just looked at me expectantly. Okay, so I had to do all the thinking. "Well, suppose someone were to make something with it. They'd sell it, right?" They nodded at me. I was on a roll. Or maybe a bagel. "So, we look and see what's new for sale in Low City. And maybe in Merchant's Hill. Zip, you ask around. Lotus 'n me are going shopping." Zip did his best impression of a Guardman's salute. * * * In Low City, a lone man sits at a table lit my a single black candle. He carves a figure of a woman in wood, then paints it with bright purples and greens in the pattern of a harlequin. When he is done, he lays it down on a black pillow. He throws back the hood on his cloak. "Another plaything for you, my Queen," he says. The smoke from the candle wafts towards the the wood figure. It covers the doll's face, and then races up the "mouth" and "nose" of the figure. The doll sits up, and looks at the man. Cyndai, satisfied with his work, chants. <> The doll hops down off the table and walks out of the room. * * * "Coolness." "Whatcha got, Bav?" "Spif 'ject. Looks like a Missus." "Lemme scan." "No, 's mine." "Aw, c'mon." "NO!" "OW! Why the hell'd you hit me? Hey, cut it out Bav. Cut it out. Put that down. I didn't want the 'ject. Put down your kni-" ...... "Spiff 'ject. All mine." HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA I LOVE YOU. YOU LOVE ME. WE'RE A HAPPY FAMILY. ADMIN: [For the bulletin board] Grand Re-Opening: Faraway Investigations. 324A Blue Moon Ave. (one block west of Ardrey's) "No case is too big for Faraway." Rates Negotiable. -- Rick Jones Dear PBS, After seeing Jurassic Park, I'm albert@bcm.tmc.edu more convinced than ever Barney should be Systems Support Center eating those kids. Voice: 713-798-7352 -Foxtrot (6/13/93) MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Bulletin Board Date: 18 Jun 1993 07:09:31 GMT Message-ID: <1vrpnb$5ls@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: Bulletin, board, admin -=- Dragon's Inn Bulletin Board -=- week ending 18-June-93 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NEW THIS WEEK: none -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OTHER ACTIVE POSTS: Posted by: Imports, Exports, and Arms (Jeremy Nelson, gujn@uniwa.edu.au) Content: WE apologize for any time distortions in the local area, however, due to testing of a device (Henceforward known as 'The Thing'), the local timestream has become dislocated. There is no danger, however some people may undergo slight disorientation. Some people may apparently find themselves in multiple locations at one time. We assure customers that this is not dangerous, and all time lines are in fact continuous, and will straighten themselves out in time. We recommend leaving early for any important appointments. Normal service will be restored tomorrow, yesterday, in three weeks' time, and in three hundred and thirty years. All complaints should be forwarded to: Imports, Exports, and Arms. We thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Moriarty (Aaron Humphrey, aaron@space.ualberta.ca) Content: |-------------------------------| | Moriarty Investigations, Inc. | | | | Magic and muscle at your | | service! No problem too large | | or small! Reasonable rates! | | | | 15A-Gamma Cor Caroli Lane | | Just off the Arcade of | | Unforgotten Heroes! | |-------------------------------| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Trawm (The Dreamer, asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Content: Attention all Real Men: If you is reading this then you is in the rong bar. Come to the Spitting Cobra were you can have a good time at a good prise. FITING ENKOURAGED. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Malthus Dela Noeuze (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Content: **************************************** ** Perfumerie Grand Veneur ** ** Is Seeking a Person To ** ** Find and Bring Back a Great ** ** Blooddrinker or Souleater ** ** For Perfumeric Substances ** ** All Contacts Considered ** ** ** ** Master Perfumerist Malthus ** ** Dela Noeuze ** **************************************** SPECIAL STATUS: Posted by: Zenith (Mike Bavister, mrhyde@netcom.com Content: ANNOUNCING THE A.P.D-I ARCHIVES I have been carefully recording all that has transpired here at the Inn and in Generica. I estimate that my archives are missing less than 1 in 100. The archives contain over 4600 chapters (articles) in 20 huge volumes (MB). Currently the archives are only indexed by Subject (Subject line), but my trusty scribes are hard at work attempting to compile a keyword-index by name, place, and "thread". Alas, this task may take a while. There are two methods by which you, the citizens of Generica, can access the archives (and their indexes). Via the Post-Office or by Magic. Via Mail: Send mail to the address below, with your request in the body of the message. I will then search the index(es) for you, and either mail you the matching "chapters" or a list of matches (if there are too many "hits"). Until the keyword index is compiled, I will be very reluctant to search the actual archives for your requests. TO: mrhyde@netcom.com. EXAMPLE: Dear Zenith, Please search your archives for all occurance of "Lancos" or "Zebron". Thanks. Via Magic: I have set aside a portion of my personal library for the Indexes and other materials of interest. If you know the powerful "FTP" spell, you can access the indexes directly. The arcane formula is listed below. This archive is "read-only", you may retrieve anything you like from it, but you can't place anything there. If there is something you'd like placed there for the benefit of all Generican citizens, let me know via mail. Do not forget to use "binary mode" for all not in ".txt" format. The FTP library currently contains: Subject indexes (no.1-no.3999) The Directory of Generica (latest edition) JourneyGarb flyer/catalog APDI FAQs (full and mini) And coming soon: The DragonQuest Saga *note* All ".zip" files are compressed using the latest state-of-the-art compression magic. Older uncompression magic may not work (use "zip19" or "pkzip2.04"). If you have any difficulty with either the transfer of files or decompression, please let me know. ftp netcom.com(192.100.81.100) login: anonymous password: (your e-mail address) cd /pub/mrhyde/APDI Cheers and happy reading ____ / __ __ o _|_ | / |__| | | | | |__ /___ |__ | | | |_/ | | Head Librarian of the Great Library of Generica -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- REMOVED THIS WEEK : none _________________________________________________________________________ ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Digging Trenches Message-ID: References: <1993Jun12.023141.2788@data-io.com> Date: Thu, 17 Jun 1993 22:54:16 GMT In the courtyard, Little Rat watched as 'Raf and the rest of the goat people and furry people walked through a hole in the air, muttering under her breath about how wizards is strange. Kev nodded in agreement. The hole vanished, and Kev went over to the place where the rocks in the ground made the picture. Little Rat followed, looking dubiously at the rock he was carrying. "You sure dis is gonna work?" She watched skeptically as he put the rock down in the middle of the picture, right on the star that was made out of silvery colored little rocks. "Yah, 'Raelf said it would, 'member? Besides, den we can go up in da tree an' see what it looks like." Once they were both clear of the picture, the rock began glowing a faint red color, and then the little rocks that the picture was made out of started glowing brightly. "Wow. Lookit dat!" Little Rat pointed. The walls were no longer the color of ugly grey and white, like a big bird dropping; the faint pink glow from the picture ran out to the walls and everything turned a nice warm color. "Race ya ta da tree," Kev said, already running. Little Rat caught up and got into the tree just before him. They went up as far as the limbs would take them, stopping at the spots where Elya had said they shouldn't go past. The city was all sparkly below. There was an ugly sort of sparkle all over the Shun, and a pretty sparkle around all of the other Towers and Lighthouses, and some of the buildings sparkled. Long lines of purple light ran off into the distance, three of them met here at the Tower. Little Rat ooh'ed at the sparkling lights, but after a while she got bored. "Hey Kev. Wanna go eat?" "Just a sec, I think dey's gonna start soon." She looked askance at him. "Who's gonna start?" "Da band. Dey's settin' up dere at da Plaza, see, da spot where da purple line goes crost of da green one? Dat sparkly building is da Dragon's Inn." "Oh. Dat's awful far off, Kev." "Uh huh," Kev replied without paying attention to her. She looked in his face. His eyes were all purple in the weird light glowing off the walls. She blinked. The same color as the lines that met under the tower. She decided it must be just the crazy light in the tower, cause his eyes were that funny pale color that looked different in different light. She wondered if her own eyes were a funny color, and remembered that there was a mirror down in the big room with the fuzzy floor. Little Rat was about to get down by herself when a flashy light out in the city distracted her. It was at the place Kev had pointed out as the Plaza, and it was pulsing a red color. He waved excitedly. "What's dat?" Little Rat peered, trying to see it better. "Band. C'mon, le's go inside, dere's a way dat we can hear!" They scrambled down from the tree, and ran inside. Kev took her to his room, but before he went in, he knocked on the door. "Hey, house, could you please fix da inside of my room so dat we can hear da band playin'?" Kev asked politely. The name on the door changed slightly; now it read "Rec Room". When they went inside, the dishevelled order that Kev usually kept for a room had been changed for a room with two chairs on posts, and one big wall that showed the Plaza of Glittering Steel. The sounds of a crowd were audible. Kev grinned and flopped into one of the chairs. Little Rat took the other, wondering if she was hungry. She glanced around. A little table between the chairs had a covered box on it. She opened it. "Dere's some food in here," she said, surprised. It was some fruit and a few slices of that strange meat pie that 'Raelf had made earlier in the morning. Pitza. She wasn't sure she liked it. There was a pitcher of water, too. "Hey, cool, is dere any wit' anchovies?" Kev grinned. Little Rat grimaced. "Ick. Salty fish, you kin have dem. Dere's some wit' jus' cheeze, I'll have dat one." The drumming started, and they leaned back in their chairs. -0--0- Littlefair tapped his guest on the shoulder. "You planning to order again, or do you just want to pay rent on the seat here?" He started loading cups and plates into a carry tub. 'Raelf looked up from the book he was reading, the shining pages reflecting on his face made the fatigue visible in his eyes. "Sure thing, dude. Man, it's happening now. You sure there's no more of that Catamount in the basement somewhere?" "Ha! You cleaned me out. I don't know where you put it all." "Sorry, I know, it's just a whole lot easier way to get energy for what's going on topside. Well, I thank you for your hospitality." "'Raelf? What's happening now?" Rowan frowned, concerned that it might be something that would affect business. "Oh. The usual battle for the life or death of the universe. Nothing really out of the ordinary for this place. I don't know why I ever thought I could just visit here, really." "Don't worry, 'Raelf. Things will come out right. Trust your barkeep." "Oh yeah. Hey, catch ya later. I've gotta go." "Have a good night, 'Raelf." "We'll try." The blond mage walked out the door, his usually light step more subdued than usual. Three blocks south to the World Gate. He went inside. The Golden Elf who went by the name Traveller was leaning back in his chair playing a gentle tune on his harp, while a pleasant illusion danced over the flames in the brazier. The gate itself was black, no swirls tonight. "Hey, dude. I need to access emergency power. This is a nexus hazard situation, on my recognizance." "Another one? 'Raelf, you... No. You're not quite 'Raelf, are you?" "Good eyes, dude. Yeah, call me Lex. What tipped you off?" "You're too big, first off. 'Raelf told me once that he doesn't like to carry around really excessive muscle mass because it makes some of his fighting moves less effective. And your eyes. You haven't gone out of your Water focus since you came in here, even when you change to one of your others, the Water focus is still active." "Right both times. I'm timeforked, got caught up in one of the Five Wars, and just barely escaped, with all the expected injuries. 'Raelf prime is just now fighting with a reavers'child." The gold elf flinched in reply. "Well, what are you waiting for, Lex? Hurry, start your power tap!" "Thanks, dude." He drew his staff from its place behind his ear and enlarged it to full size, then plunged the end into the blackness of the gate field. "This is gonna be big. Put station two online please." The gold elf waved his hands in a complex pattern, chanting control phrases, and the firepit began to blaze with a light the color of magic. The gateway was suddenly a brilliant white, and Lex drew the energies down the staff and into and through himself. He began glowing and the room lit up even more. A fitful crackling filled the air. Traveller reached into his desk and pulled out a pair of sunglasses, and put them on. He walked over to the front door, put up a sign: Closed for Maintenance He picked up his harp and resumed playing. After a few minutes, he gave up as the crackling from the gateway continued to overwhelm his music. "Hey. Trav. You. Might. Want. To. Go. To. Plaza... Satyr. Band. There. Again. Tonite." Lex gritted out, struggling to keep his voice working while channeling the energy overload across time and space. "Thanks! I'll try it!" Traveller shouted, and went off up the street. The evening sun was just beginning to set and the shadow of Merchant's Hill was sliding eastward towards him; up ahead, he saw the colorful glow of wizard-torches and felt the warm breeze from a daystone keeping the area around it as comfortable as it had been that afternoon. The Plaza of Glittering Steel still showed some signs of the party of the day before, but nothing like the Town Square. The workmen and the hired elemental-handlers were still cleaning there. But Littlefair and the other merchants around the Plaza had done their own cleanup, and the Plaza had already been scrubbed and polished, the signs of the party from the night before removed. Now there were two pavilions being set up in front of the Jeweler's shopfront, and hay bales set out to demark the boundaries of a raised wooden dancing floor. Traveller nodded to Listener, who was standing in the doorway of the Dragon's Inn looking at the five satyrs, the centaur, and several other forest-folk helping with the placement of a stage. "Salutations," Listener said in high Elven. "You taking a vacation? Who's handling the worldgates?" "Oh, they're in use," Traveller returned in the same tongue. "One of my colleagues needed to draw power from the emergency lines, so I get to come out in public for a few hours." "Ah. I see. Notice anything unusual?" Listener waved at the band, the setup happening in the Plaza. A crowd had begun to form, more than a hundred people standing along the streets and walkways, staying well back from the dance floor and the Plaza. Food and beverage carts began showing up. Traveller finished his scan of the area. "There's a pavilion in front of the jewelry shop. I can't imagine that old fustian Karriggan letting anyone but Melwiss do that." "Precisely correct. Seems that Melwiss' servant Hector gave him a very good report on this band. In person, and by word of mouth. So this is a command performance, of sorts." "What? Hector? But he's deaf-mute, since birth." "Not since last night. You see those forest folk there?" "Two foxen, a pair of 'phits, and ... oh. There's something very strange about that woman, the parafeline. In the crowd. She looks like that actress. Vonda Crim, from the Caredahl players, but that isn't her usual ... that's NOT makeup." Traveller made a circling gesture with his left hand, and in the air before him, a closeup appeared, bringing faces closer and in detail. "That gold satyr male... Ah. One of 'Raelf's timeforks." "What's a timefork?" Listener said, curiously. "A trick we learned at Travellers' college. I avoid doing it. It's emotionally painful. But 'Raelf seems to enjoy it, from what I've seen. The Traveller finds a point in time where the divergence of choices allow only two decisions, and chooses both. Two timelines come into being, and the Traveller exists fully on both. After a while, if the two decisions have no long-term effect, the timelines re-merge, and the Traveller has the collected time-energy of both timelines to use for power. But to do that, only one can continue to exist, and the other has to come to an end. There can only be one." Listener thought for a moment, then grew pale. "Suicide? One of the timeforks kills the other?" "For me, most likely. 'Raelf is 'kan, and his people are different; they seem to be able to merge back together somehow, without losing the power they collected." He paused, looking through his closeup at the pavillion. "Melwiss is about to make his appearance. Well, look at that. Is that really Hector?" Traveller tipped the view so that Listener could see as well. A youngish man, but with snow-white hair, handsome and fit, was talking animatedly with the man who was master of the merchant's guild and the actual ruler of Generica. On the other side, two bored looking people of apparently late teens were lounging, their clothing clearly declaring them to be nobility, though they wore no emblems of rank or status, and there were only three guards apiece attending them. Melwiss frowned sourly, and the transparent gauze veils were removed from in front of his pavillion. The band, instruments set up, filed up to the pavillion, and bowed. The gold satyr did not do the profundis bow that was required of Generican natives, but his inclination was the correct one for visiting VIP's. Melwiss' attendants seemed to be scandalized, but the nobles were simply amused. Listener nudged Traveller. "Look. They're wearing clothes. Well, thongs, at least. Wonder if that means they're not going to do the fourth Drumsong. Would be less fun if we just get the learning songs." "By the looks of him, that 'Raelf-fork is stuck in earth the same way that his otherself was lodged in water... I predict they'll go all the way. Do you plan to dance tonight?" Listener shrugged. "Perhaps." The crowd hushed. The five satyrs had struck a pose on the stage, and then a gentle, quiet thrumming began to be audible. It grew, never quite loud enough to identify clearly, but tangible in the bones, in toes and fingers. Over the thrumming, a faint, delicate whistle of ethereal pipes. Distant, pure notes rang from bells, as though calling from across a valley to a faraway listener. The drumming grew louder, more intricate rhythms joined and mixed, building to a dazzling complexity that finally came together in a single loud THUMP! and quiet followed for a moment, then a delicate strumming on a mandoline or lute... Bells began to come in on the grace notes. A voice, matching the bells, began to sing, joined in moments by another voice, then another, weaving in the background... There's a problem, feathers, iron Bargain buildings, weights and pullies Feathers hit the ground before the weight can leave the air Buy the sky and sell the sky and tell the sky and tell the sky Don't fall on me (What is it up in the air for) (It's gonna fall) Fall on me (If it's there for long) (It's gonna fall) Fall on me (It's over it's over me) (It's gonna fall) There's the progress we have found A way to talk around the problem Building towered foresight isn't anything at all Buy the sky and sell the sky and bleed the sky and tell the sky Don't fall on me (What is it up in the air for) (It's gonna fall) Fall on me (If it's there for long) (It's gonna fall) Fall on me (It's over it's over me) (It's gonna fall) Well I could keep it above But then it wouldn't be sky anymore So if I send it to you you've got to promise to keep it home Don't fall on me (What is it up in the air for) (It's gonna fall) Fall on me (If it's there for long) (It's gonna fall) Fall on me (It's over it's over me) (It's gonna fall) Buy the sky and sell the sky and lift your arms up to the sky And ask the sky and ask the sky Listener's eyes were shining, Traveller grinned and dispelled the closeup window. "I'm going to go up closer. See you later." Listener nodded, abstracted, as he stared out. This was not the usual Satyr band. Oh, they had the emotional hook, the physical empathy that caught hold of the deepest-rooted hungers, but they weren't using it the usual way. And he knew, somehow, that they were threading connections through the crowd, building power. The next song had snuck in from nowhere, growing out of the continued background thrum - another drumsong, but with lyrics this time, the voice weaving its own percussion into the rhythm, meanings carried in a subliminal, almost sneaky background that dropped them into the heart without holding them up to the eyes. I'm accustomed to a smooth ride Or maybe I'm a dog who's lost its bite I don't expect to be treated like a fool no more I don't expect to sleep through the night Some people say a lie's a lie's a lie But I say why Why deny the obvious child? Why deny the obvious child? And in remembering a road sign I am remembering a girl when I was young And we said These songs are true These days are ours These tears are free And hey The cross is in the ballpark The cross is in the ballpark We had a lot of fun We had a lot of money We had a little son and we thought we'd call him Sonny Sonny gets married and moves away Sonny has a baby and bills to pay Sonny gets sunnier Day by day by day by day I've been waking up at sunrise I've been following the light across my room I watch the night receive the room of my day Some people say the sky is just the sky But I say Why deny the obvious child? Why deny the obvious child? Sonny sits by his window and thinks to himself How it's strange that some rooms are like cages Sonny's yearbook from high school Is down from the shelf And he idly thumbs through the pages Some have died Some have fled from themselves Or struggled from here to get there Sonny wanders beyond his interior walls Runs his hand through his thinning brown hair Well I'm accustomed to a smoother ride Maybe I'm a dog that's lost his bite I don't expect to be treated like a fool no more I don't expect to sleep the night Some people say a lie is just a lie But I say the cross is in the ballpark Why deny the obvious child? The drums stopped suddenly, and Listener shivered. Outworld music. The referents weren't from anywhere near Nexus. The mode of the music was peculiarly unlike those he was most familiar with, and the tunings were off from the true mathematical relationships in a way that made the music seem sweeter and more seductive. He'd heard this kind of thing before, from the experimentalists in the Elven bardic enclaves and the bards who had taken their results outland. He found that he had moved, unconsciously, to the edge of the crowd, away from the door of the Dragons' Inn. The gold satyr male was playing an etherial trilling tune on the panpipes, making them sound unlike any panpipe he'd ever heard. A tambour came in, then a voice, soft and quiet I'd rather be a hammer than a nail, if I could, if I only could, I surely would. Listener stopped short, forcing himself from the state of heightened focus and into a more self-controlled frame of mind. He began a countermelody in his head, something to neutralize the seductive music, and watched for a minute. Power was being gathered, all right, but shunted off somewhere else. The elven bard made his decision: he moved quietly back to the Dragon's Inn, past Littlefair and up to his secret place in the rafters. He lifted his flute and played the four-note Song of Opening Ways. In his mind a door was unlocked, sprang open. The haggard man at the Duty Station in the Mages' Guild was barking orders to four others, men and women who were gathering equipment from a closet. "Duty mage," Listener spoke into the door in his mind. "Listener, sorry, can I put you on hold?" "Make it fast." soft boring insipid music and pretty lights in the doorway "OK, so what's up?" "Melwiss has a satyr band, calls itself Rhythm Song. They're doing some kind of power ritual out here. Can you check it for menace?" "Precog already reported it. She says it's clean, but she can't tell where the energy is going or why." "Thanks. Hey, what's going on there?" "Somebody went into main lobby and blew out the comm station, got shot. Apparently can't be properly healed by magic, some offworlder thing. The Wyvern's pissed off, Urco's gone offsite to handle a Situation, and nobody can find half the Archmagi - Nescie's off the loop, Thorn and Fauteuil are off somewhere else, Leonaco's been dragged upstairs to help with the injury, Rivy's taken Gwaliostrok and half the other competent magi off to some sort of training, and not even ...sage's around. Hey, is he over there?" "Don't think so. I'll tell him if I see him. Speak with you later, Nijorik." "Right. Hey, here's Urcohea. I'll report your concerns to him." "Thanks again." Listener closed the mental door, and lowered the flute from his lips. He sprang gracefully down to the floor again, and looked around at the unusually empty commons room. Most of the dark corners were even empty. He walked over to the door, filled by the broad shoulders of Rowan Littlefair. "Rowan, you think we should take advantage of this lull to do anything?" "Yeah, I'm gonna relax and listen to the music." [ADMIN] "Fall on Me" is by REM. "Obvious Child" and "I'd Rather Be" are by Paul Simon. Lyrics quoted without permission. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Kadrys: Dancing on a Highwire Message-ID: References: <1993Jun5.172906.19013@data-io.com> Date: Fri, 18 Jun 1993 00:43:45 GMT [ADMIN] Posted for Andrea Evans. Moving on forever, maybe she don't care Holding on together, maybe it just ain't there You're dancing on a highwire You need to be so sure There used to be a lifeline There isn't any more - Alan Parsons Project Grey sky overhead as Kadrys closed the Inn door behind him. A grey, grey day. The world gently weeping. Water trickling down his cheeks, splashing into his eyes as he glanced up at the clouds. It was as close as he could ever come to tears. Walking for hours, aimlessly, his mind strangely silent, his emotions numb. Absorbed in simply soaking up sensations. Sitting bonelessly beside one of the fountains of the Arcade, emptily tracing the fitful streaks of the rain, comparing their glint, the sound of their fall, the scent of their water, with that of the fountain itself. Unheeding of the cold, oblivious to the way the rain drenched him to the skin, turned his hair into a dripping shroud over his face. Moving on, for no particular reason. Just walking for the sake of seeing the scenery move. Walking. ...Walking in the rain... Memory. Clashing melodies. Dozens of inconsequential songs heard down the years. He gave a faint sardonic smile. A distant corner of his mind stirred itself slowly. 'How can people find _this_, the cold, the dampness, _romantic_? Yet still they write their sentimental ballads around this theme. Amazing. The sheer optimism it takes to celebrate such - misery...' He paused, drew a single ragged breath, jammed his hands through his wet hair and shoved it back off his forehead. No matter how much he concentrated on silencing or on immersing himself in the stream of surface thoughts, he could _not_ distract himself from the pain of Kardia's recent declaration. 'Stupid to try. No place to run, not inside my own head.' He heaved another sigh, stopped the walking which had no other aim than to put the Inn as far behind him as possible. He leaned against an inset doorway, seeking shelter: as much from the dim sunlight, as from the insistent, cold stroking of the rain. 'All right. No place to run. _Think._ Why am I so - so _cut_ by her decision? Eh? Just what was I expecting? That she'd just take it all in her stride, that that "Oh" of hers would be all the reaction she'd have for what I am?' He laughed out loud then, a bitter, stinging sound, that drew startled glances, sent the few passersby hurrying on faster than the rain could do. 'What a lunatic I am. Always dreaming about acceptance, about love. Crazed. All I had to do was look at it from her side for a moment. She's a woman in her prime. Attractive, talented. If she wanted someone all she'd have to do is take her pick. Why in hell would she want a dead man? Give her heart to a monster? Live with a leech draining her life? Have to grow old while seeing him stay changeless as a statue? ... In-sanity. How in Hell could I ever have expected her to decide otherwise?' But he realised that all of this reasoning could not remove the dull, dragging ache in the depths of his spirit. The grief, souring at its core, darkening slowly, dangerously towards despair. He clenched his hands into fists as he thrashed round in his mind for means to fight the feeling. His inner voice whispered darkly, 'And after all, why should I care? Why _should_ I? What have I lost? An opportunity for worse grief to come, when she dies...' He choked this thought back, recoiling from it. Yes, this was one way to avoid grief, but not a way he wanted any part of. This was the icy calculation of the predator. It was the curse speaking in him: trying as always to twist him into a hunter, a thing that kills as casually as any carnivore. His resolve to resist it was ancient and entrenched deeply in him. But that had never made the fight easy. No, it was not even a fight, it was a balancing act. He was poised with terrible precision: between the fire of emotion, (sometimes a glow to warm, often a tormenting flame) and the cold perfection of logic. Between empathy and callousness, humanity and monstrosity. He was walking a tightrope between these two opposites. Leaning too much either way would mean his downfall. If he abandoned the logic, the detachment, then the grief and pain of losing his loved ones (as eventually he _must_), would grow beyond all enduring, would cost him his sanity and his life. But if he ever weakened his desperate grip on his humanity, then the curse would have finally won. He would be nothing more than a murderous monster, and would be hunted down and slain as such monsters eventually are. But the man inside would already have been destroyed. Yes, a balancing act. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the idea, the resolve gripped him, and he grinned ferally. There was a maniacal glint in his eye as he watched the empty clothesline swing back and forth across the strip of cloud above the lane. (slide down to the centre of the arc) Here I am. (stillness, extend the arms, then drop them. Unneeded for balance.) On my left, the cold, the abyss of monstrosity. (leap, sense the way the line ripples in the breeze, rejoin it with my feet) On my right, the searing flame of emotion. (spin, whirl, flick the line out with my toes, catch it on the backswing) Lean too far either way, and I fall. I _fall_. (right foot forward, left foot back, slide into a forward split) Too far either way, disaster. (spin the torso until my shoulders are in line with my hips. Feel the way my body fills the bottom of the line's arc) The line is wet and flailing in the wind. Roll with it, move with the turbulence of Life. (slide my feet together, smooth, rise until I stand again.) Fail to give in to the turns of Life's path, and fall. Lean too far either way, and fall. So very very easy to fall. And yet... And yet, I stand. It is still possible to stand. Still possible to live. Feel it... Know it... Be it... Silvi was bored. There was nothing to do indoors and Mama said she couldn't go out to play in the rain cos she got her dress muddy the last time. She flumped down on her bed and pouted at the ceiling. Who cared about a stupid dress anyway? The mud all came out in the wash. Now all her friends were out having fun and here she was. Stuck in her room. She dragged herself to her feet and wandered over to the window. There was a man out there! Right out there by her window, way way above the ground. Standing on nothing but the bit of line Mama hung her washing on. Ooo that looked _dangerous_! The wind was blowing and the rain was still falling but Silvi just had to see better. She wrenched open the cracked window and stuck her head out. Yep, there he was. And he wasn't just standing there anymore, he was _dancing_! Jumping high, fast, like he had springs in his feet, or like he was one of those string puppets the theatre man had showed her. She just stared, so amazed that she forgot why she'd opened the window. But a flurry of rain made her remember. "Hey! Mister!" The man looked over and gave her a really big white smile, like he was kinda excited. "Hey! You better get down from there, you gonna fall! You'll hurt yourself!" The man laughed and shook his head. "No, little lady, no I won't. See?" And he bowed, a full sweeping bow like she was some sort of princess, and then he leaped. Backwards, without looking back. Then one bare foot snared the line and he landed, looking somehow real sure of himself, nevermind the way the rope was swinging in the wind. Silvi laughed and clapped her hands. This was _fun_! This was much better than slopping around in some old puddles. It was even better than the theatre man. "Again!" she cried, beaming. He glanced up at her, the same big smile, and strolled forward until he was in the middle of the line. Then he just seemed to flick both feet out and up, and he spun backward in the air like a pinwheel. The line sprung tight when his feet hit again, and raindrops were snapped away by the impact. Silvi clapped again and started to cheer at the top of her voice. The man held his finger to his lips for silence, hurrying along the line toward where it was tied to the wall of her house. Silvi quieted, afraid she'd made him mad. She didn't want to make him mad, cos then he wouldn't dance for her again. But his smile when he drew near reassured her. "That was great!" she cried excitedly, "Are you from a circus? Do you do that all the time?" The man's smile quirked, and he nodded slowly. "Do I walk a tightrope all the time? Yes, you could say that. Yes. I do. I was just practising... Making sure I still know how..." Silvi nodded. The man leaned a little closer and added "Let's keep my practise here a secret. A real deep secret, just between you and me, all right?" Silvi's face grew solemn. "Why?" "Because your folks would be mad you didn't call them up to see." Silvi considered this, then nodded. "All right. ...Serves 'em right f'r making me go to my room anyway." she added under her breath. The man grinned and nodded. He stepped aside from the string and dug a foot into the brickwork, lowering himself down the wall as easily as taking a walk. Silvi watched him all the way down, leaned out and watched him pull on his boots and walk away down the alley, watched him until he vanished into the distance and the rain. In after years, Silvi was amazed at the vividness of her childhood imagination. Yes, other children had imaginary friends, but her Dancing Man had seemed so vivid, so real. Of course, she came to realise it was impossible. No-one could do the things she remembered him doing. No-one else had even seen him. Of course not. Still, the memory of his smile, his skill, had become a precious personal myth, a private source of comfort when other sources failed. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: taz@media.mit.edu (Brian Shea) Subject: [Roger] Walk this way. Message-ID: <1993Jun18.125217.17447@news.media.mit.edu> References: <1vnk8j$nuv@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> Date: Fri, 18 Jun 1993 12:52:17 GMT Roger started to get bored after a while, and examined his room. There was a simple bed, another pitcher and basin upon the dresser, a nightstand, and a chair. All of the furniture was wooden and simple, but well built. It looked like a working man's room. There was a nice rug on the floor and there was a pastoral scene with nymphs and satyrs painted above the headboard of the bed. Roger was pacing when the door finally opened again, and Endo entered the room. "It was decided that since I was familiar to you, I would give you a tour of the palace." Endo smiled. "It also might have helped that I asked to be the one to give it." Endo paused, and examined Roger. "Are you human?" Endo finally asked. Roger laughed, finally realizing that the elves had been showing extreme stoicism in not asking something like that. They had all been wondering not only about his seeming knowledge of the 'Way', but also about his eyes. "Yes, I'm human. At least, most of me is. My eyes are replacements. They aren't human eyes, they are artificial devices that allow me to see with a lower amount of light, to see farther and sharper, and to block out sudden bright flashes. The skull and crossbones is just my trademark, they make me unique." Endo finally dropped all pretense, and stared at Roger's eyes, wondering at the human who had eyes with white skull and crossbone irises and dead black pupils. "I have the feeling you would be unique even without these magical eyes. You move so quickly, faster than most of the masters, even. If you had kept going for much longer, we would not have been able to maintain the center." "I don't understand," asked Roger. It was now Endo's turn to laugh. "No one, not even an elf, can move that fast normally. One of the disciplines of the Way is to find the center. Then, we can move much faster than normal, reacting before the enemy consciously thinks what he is going to do. An uncentered opponent has no chance against one who is centered, he will be dead before he realizes what is happen. Come, you must know this." Roger nodded, "On my world, magicians can be have a focus. Some only deal with spirits, others with enchantments, and some focus their magic into the body. I am one of the physical adepts. My magic allows me to act as if centered, to put it in your terms. But even among physical adepts back home, I am one of the better ones," Roger said, allowing a note of pride to creep into his voice. "Come, we can talk as I show you the palace," said Endo. Roger examined Endo more closely as they left. He was about 5' 6'', tall for an elf, and Roger knew from experience that he was strong and agile for his lithe frame, like most elves. His skin was light green, and his hair was mostly white with a tinge of green. The tour was quick, Roger really wasn't surprised by anything now that he knew about the Oriental influences. What Roger was interested in was the elves and their culture. How did they get the Oriental influence? "Endo, how did you come to know the forms? Who introduced them?" "The Way is actually quite recent, it was introduced about a dozen generations ago. To you, that would be about 2500 years, but to us it is recent. An elderly human was found by a border patrol, wandering among the outskirts. The patrol tried to take him in, but he resisted. A fight broke out, but he taught them a lesson. After defeating the patrol of six, he asked to be taken to see our leader. During his remaining years, he taught a small sect the forms and the Way. This sect eventually came to power, and the influence of the Way spread. It became vogue to copy the style of the things the Master had recreated, to remind him of his home on another world." "Endo, I think your Master was from Earth." "Well of course he was! I imagine Earth is much changed," Endo said. "Yes, very much changed outwardly. But things like the Way still have a place. And, unfortunately, so do the forms." Endo smiled and teasingly said, "Humans." Roger laughed back. "I like you, Endo." "And I you, Roger." Roger felt the beginnings of a friendship and was glad. ------ The Jolly Roger aka Brian Shea aka taz@athena.mit.edu Comments welcome, and thanks for the ones already sent. MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roger] Time passes, Adventure Continues Date: 18 Jun 1993 16:02:24 GMT Message-ID: <1vsoug$gks@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> "Oomph." Endo smiled as Roger landed on the mat, as a result of the flawless throw that he had executed. Endo gave Roger a hand up, and then they bowed to each other. "That's enough for now, I'm bushed. You're getting better." Endo was proud of himself. Roger really was much better than he, but he was to the point where he could win about one out of four times. Well, if they agreed to spar at normal speed. Roger was still much faster than he was when they were centered, Endo just couldn't keep up with him. It really was amazing. "Okay, we'll call it quits for today. Besides, you have another audience this afternoon." "Yeah, I know." Roger had been at the palace for a little over a month know, and he and Endo had quickly become very good friends. The month had flown by as Roger had meeting after meeting with the masters, showing them all of the forms he knew, and even improvising a few. He had also been quizzed about Earth, but that had stopped quickly as the scholars realized that technology made about as much sense to them as gnomish inventions. Roger had learned a lot about the Way, and found it to be similar to the Code of the Samurai, but more relaxed. He had also been learnig from the elven masters, adding new forms and refining others. It had turned out that Endo was one of the rising stars in the elven court, and one of the best at working the forms of the Way, almost qualified to be a master. They had been sparring together faithfully for the last month. "Roger, I think our sessions are going to have to stop," Endo said with a sigh. "Why?" asked Roger. "I have been given a mission to attend to, and must leave very soon. I would tell you, but it is not meant to be common knowledge. I hope you understand." "Of course I do," Roger said. "Well, good luck. I'm going to miss you. Won't have anything to do now that the masters have grilled me to their satisfaction." "I'm sure you'll find some trouble to get into. I have faith in you, Roger." The two friends laughed, and left the dojo. ----- Her Royal Highness Amiliza Shatterstar sat upon her plain wooden chair in the audience room, and she was troubled. Perhaps troubled is too strong a word, but concerned would not have been strong enough. She saw a storm brewing, trouble in the wings, but the rest of her court said she was being paranoid. Oh, they never came out and said it directly, but she could read the glances among them, the whispers got back to her. She half believed her court, anyway. Perhaps she was jumping at shadows. But better safe than dead was her policy. She had finally decided to send a select group to feel out the situation. She had already chosen Endo, Giarr, and Kayell to go. But now she was going out on a limb and acting on impulse. This in itself worried her, she never acted on impulse. But times were changing. ----- Roger entered the audience room as the servant opened one of the worked golden doors. He approached the regal queen, and bowed deeply when he stopped. "Hello, your highness." "Hello, Roger. I have called you here to ask a favor." "I am at your service, your highness." "Don't be so ready to volunteer, this will be a dangerous favor. I want you to accompany Endo, I understand you have become quite close in the last month." "Yes, we have. I would be honored to not only due you a favor, but to accompany Endo, who I view as a brother. May I ask the nature of the mission?" Roger knew it was important because the audience was empty except for the two of them. "Recently, our borders have had increased run-ins with goblin-kind, and some of them have even managed to slip quite deeply into our territory before being eliminated. My ministers say this is just chance, and I would tend to agree with them if it were not for a dozen other minor things that could be written off as chance. Increased incidents of attempted scrying, all of the minor. Increased storm patterns in the various glades. A fire in one of the glades, thought to be due to natural causes. And a few even more subtle things. Seperately, they are nothing. Together they may be nothing, but I have the feeling that someone is carefully probing us, trying to ascertain our strength and find our weaknesses. I am sending Endo and the others to investigate, to see if their is someone or something behind this. I would like you to go with them. They will be going to Generica to begin with." "But why me?" asked Roger. "For a different perspective. Also, I want someone to take care of Endo." Roger almost gasped aloud. The rumors abounded about Endo and the queen, but he had never given them any credit. "It would be my pleasure." "And Roger... use discretion." "Yes, your highness." ----- Endo was delighted to hear that Roger would be joining the group, and the group had a celebration that night. The next morning, they started to prepare their gear, groaning about headaches left over from the night before. Three days later, it was time to leave. There were no good-byes, those were all said in private. One morning, Endo came to Roger's room and woke him, somberly saying, "It's time." Roger said nothing, just grabbed his gear and followed him, leaving the palace and meeting up with Giarr and Kayell in the morning mist. As they entered the elevator's cage, Roger had a sudden feeling of dread. As they started to sink below the platform, Roger wondered if this was the last time he would see the palace. It was not a comforting thought. "Adventure," Roger thought. "I hate adventure." ----- The Jolly Roger aka Brian Shea aka taz@athena.mit.edu Comments welcome. Coming soon to a Dragon's Inn near you... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] What!? Message-ID: <1993Jun18.210719.10889@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Fri, 18 Jun 93 21:07:19 GMT It was two weeks after the hunt. Andir and Thelli Wellen had gotten off at Specifica of the Furs long ago. Ashran was recovered enough to eat with what Gunther called "The Quality" for the first time at dinner. "Good meal." Palandun said, standing up after eating and striding to the door. "I'm gonna take a look around." "I'll come with you." Gunther said, and they both strode out along the gunwales of the riverboat. The boat was tied up along the shore, the foothills of the Mysty mountains looming to the east, large purple shapes in the dusk. "That was a good thing you did for Ashran." Gunther said after they had admired the view for a while. "A very good thing." "My training took over. I'm not disagreeing with you, but the person you should congratulate is my instructor in healing, back in bismania." "I've seen people trained a lot more than you falter and break under less pressure. You're a truly good person, Palandun Paladin." Palandun grumbled under his breath at the name. "I just wish..." "Wish what?" Palandun asked automatically, not really wishing to be let in on his host's most intimite desires. "Remember that for everything there are extenuating circumstances." Gunther said, and left, leaving Palandun to ponder on what the snark that was supposed to mean. He was still pondering the mysteries of his host when he walked into his room, unstrapped his sword, and- Palandun awoke on dry land to the sight of an orc drooling on his shoes. "Hiya." He said, reminding himself that a persons race or appearance was no indicator of what was on the inside. "Up." The orc said, "March." And, by way of demonstration, picked up Palandun and shoved him in the direction he was supposed to go. Palandun joined a stream of people heading towards a central reception area. It was while being picked up that Palandun discovered the chains binding his hands and feet together. Finally he reached the head table, where a pair of orc-captains and a few corprals were processing all the surplus riders on Gunther's boat. "Name." The orc-captain asked without looking up. "Palandun Lintesul." "Ah! You're the one. Mr. Toodie says I should give you special treatment. So, you you get your choice. You can work in the mines or help build the dock, then work in the mines." "That's a tough choice." Palandun replied. "I'll take the second one." "Fair enough. Garstak! Take this one to plot B. Enjoy your stay in Specifica of the Gems." Specifica of the Gems (Palandun learned, during lectures between building sessions) Was not one of the three specificas founded by Generica, but an underground fortress ruled by the dragon Dawg. He was considered the greatest of dragons (at least by the orcs) not because of physical prowess, but because of his insight: "Why maim and kill for riches that are probably going to get destroyed while I capture them when I can enter a partnership with a human and have him trade slaves for my gems, which I then dig up with the slaves?" Palandun had to admit, as dragon's plans went, this was much better than the average maim and kill, then sleep for a hundred years or so. It was gunther's wife, also among the slaves, who explained Gunther's motives. "He provides a service, both ways," she explained, "In generica, he gets rid of the Undesirables, sending those you want to get rid of away, while here he provides a scource of labor in return for gems." "And you defend him?" Another slave asked. "Why you're-" "Lay off." Palandun said, intervening, "She has more problems than we do." "How so? We're all in chains." "Yeah, but she knew what was coming." Telki Barnstormer said. "We get to settle some scores when we get out of here, she doesn't. I'm curious, why did you do it, dear?" "He asked me to." And then she started to cry. Palandun went over to talk to Thelki. "How long can you keep their spirits up?" He asked. "A month, maybe two. The orcs are working hard and the mines won't be fun. Why?" "By my calculations, I should be able to escape when we drive piles tomorrow. I want to know if I should try freeing you all or send for help." "What kind of help?" "Bismanian I corps. I intend destroying that fortress." "How far away are they?" "A month out, a month for the vote, a month back." "Too long. I've got it! The halls of King Gorrin." "Who?" "A dwarven king. He lives north of us in the Mystys, ah, heck, you're an Islander, I forgot. You'd never survive the march." "I'll have you know I grew up at 8,000 feet on the side of a volcano. I'm better off in the mountains than you are. How do I get there?" The next day found Palandun standing atop a boat swinging a sledgehammer. A large tree trunk was slowly imbeding itself in the mud. Suddenly he screamed "Aaaaaa!" and fell in the water, weighted down by his chains. I have remarked before on how Gynsoo was named for it's ability to cut nearly anything. MagicHutchHeader Date: Thursday, 17 Jun 1993 14:43:42 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93168.144342344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [BBD] A Year of Barside Evenings References: <93166.121224344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> [ADMIN: Yeah, yeah, I'm late again -- blame my site, not me... Anyway, this is subtitled: "Life is for my own to live my own way." Enjoy!] >Instead, he settled down, and tried to get some rest. But his mind would not >allow him the respite, and he found himself reflecting on his life to date: Images passed through Lancos' mind, too many to take at once; to think about in only one night. He was born... well, he didn't know exactly where or when. His parents were part of a traveling performing group, and couldn't effectively keep track of such things. His father, Chendle, was a driver of one of the wagone, and took care of the animals where he could, feeding them and doing minor blacksmith and veterenary work. Lancos grinned to himself as he recalled the "rumors" that his father -- the tall, strong, bald-headed man he was -- was part animal himself, and the way Chendle had laughed when Lancos told him about it. His mother, Ursula, was part of the juggling troupe. Lancos had never thought about her beauty, rough as it may well have been, recallin only the exquisite way she handled objects, her hands moving as if each anticipated what the other would do, as if both were controlled by the same thought. And at birth, he had been gifted with the potential for his father's build and his mother's dexterity. These gifts helped structure him, and his parents no doubt could have done more. But they didn't tutor him, for there was a place set up for that, a group headed largely by people too old or injured to perform and longer. He was taught right and wrong as they saw it, and the basics of the theatrical arts, from the background to the spotlight. Personally, he was happy in this life, and if things had turned out differently, he might have never left it, but... but... But still, he had learned much from this part of his life. He had learned to be neutral towards people, for they might become customers or friends as easily as not. He was taught to enhance his skills in even his seemingly weakest points, and discovered within him the patience and fortitude to do so. He gained the rules of common games, including the hobby and strategy-basing of chess. And perhaps most importantly, he learned that the show must always go on; life must continue, despite diversity. But soon things changed, as they are bound to do. Their group was attacked by a horde of orcs, for reasons Lancos did not totally understand even now. A dozen were killed, and several more were injured -- including his father, whose arm was so damaged that he became essentially useless for a month -- before help showed up in the form of a party of adventurers. The warrior could still remember the awe he felt on seeing the heroes. In his eyes, their armor had outshone even the brightest light the stage had; their weapons moved as if they were but extensions of their bearers; they were brave, where he could only cover in protection. Then and there he made up his mind that he wanted to be brave, too; to protect his friends and family. And so, he began his training. He worked with those who lugged around equipment, to build his strength. He talked and practiced with warriors that passed by or could be found in towns. And he swung at imaginary foes by himself. Chendle smiled at this sort of activity at first, figuring Lancos was indirectly follwing a path similar to his own, and that he would outgrow this phase. But eventually, around the time of his manhood, it became obvious that Lancos was bound for larger things, and one of the hardest times in his life came about, when he said goodbye to his family, quite possibly for forever. He stepped out into the world, young and naive, but well-intentioned and able to survive, at worst. His _real_ training began a few months later, under a man named Borric Hammerfist. Borric was a quiet man, preferring to let his actions speak for him. And his methods were unsual, stretching into questionable sometimes. Lancos had forgotten the exact details of most of the exercises, but he remembered their effectiveness: the emotional and physical pain in them help build him as much as the weapon practice, and nearly all of it had proven invaluable. The warrior sighed as he recollected Borric's final lesson, namely kicking him out into the world again in his 20th year. MagicHutchHeader Sean -- now _there_ was a ranger; the reason he had denied any such title for himself. For Sean's parents were both rangers, and had raised their son with tradition in mind, a role he willingly accepted. The two had instantly become the closest of friends, as if fate had planned their meeting. They grew up together, and shared whatever they could. They exchanged tactics and skills, spent as much time together as possible -- whether adventuring, training, or just goofing off --, paid for things when one ran out of money, and relied on their friendship and resources when both of them did. All in all, each was the closest thing to a brother the other would ever have. But even if it had brought them together, it was fate that separated them. MagicHutchHeader [ADMIN: And sometime, I must (re-)tell that tale. But first I must find the time/place... maybe in approx. a month, if I'm not reminded earlier. BTW, if you missed it the 1st time, or have forgotten it, just ask for a copy...] The next event he felt worth prolonged thinking about came up, and he sighed long and hard at it ... meeting Felria. In his early life, Lancos had not encountered much in the way of magic. The performed did something they called "magic", but those behind the scenes knew it to be only sleight of hand and tricks to the eyes. And most of the _true_ magic had been directed against him, making him somewhat wary of it. And he carried this attitude into his first encounter with her, taken aback more at her profession than at the sight of a female adventurer. But she had a beauty, both within and outward, that his mind -- his heart -- could not deny, and a love formed that overcame such petty barriers. And for her part, Felria had had no such convictions, and returned the emotions _she_ had felt inside her eagerly. Once the relationship was established, both knew that if this was not true love, they would never experience it, and planned for a wedding. Lancos sighed as he recalled how he had insisted they wait a few weeks longer than the socially acceptable period of tiem, so that his friends and family would make it, and so no one thought they were getting married because of some misinterpretative need or pressure. But he had not known that the performers would cancel plans to come to the wedding, or that again he would be denied a life of happiness by a rotten turn of events. The warrior repressed her death, not wanting to relive those emotions right now. Instead, he moved ahead a bit, for Felria's death was sort of a harbinger of the invasion of his home realm. When a small force was sent to -- as they said -- "give the town a chance to give up", he had been enraged, charging blind with anger at those who might have struck his beloved down. Only luck had saved him, that and unexpected help from a young theif named Brent, who had watched over Lancos until he was again healthy. Brent -- now there was quite the character. Always out for information and ways to gain favors, it seemed. The warrior grinned as he recalled that one of the ways he had repaid those favors was teaching and telling Brent to look into interests other than theiving. It had begun as somewhat of a joke, and blossomed from there at Brent's wishes. The war had been won -- if it hadn't, Lancos knew he would not have survived it. And it had gone rather well for him, the warrior gained a good deal of fame. Suddenly, towns around the area laid claim to being his brithplace, and many who had heard his exploits wanted his presence. But Lancos had found the situtation rather... stifiling, though, and without word left again to travel. After that, more battles, and another time that might be considered a war. And a prevention of a war, also. He flashed back to his role among the centaurs, two groups hostile towards each other and at first even more so to him. It had taken a good deal of trust-building for them to even not be tempted to kill him, and a great deal of time to find out the _true_ reason, the evil that had been behind it and had planned to conquer both sides immediately after the war. Shortly after that, he returned home, and rather to his relief found that his fame had somewhat diminished, though he still carried a good deal of respect. This suited him fine, and for a while he was tempted to forget about travelling, for at least a while. But then rumors of this town called Generica had begun to pour in, and his wandering spirit got the best of him. And _how_ Generica, and the DragonQuest, had affected him. It had shown him the _true_ scope of his medallion, and replaced some of his lost memories. And it gave him a lesson in humility, just in case he had forgotten it. He knew that his temporarily role of betrayor was part of things; that any other avenue would have turned out worse, but it didn't make him feel better about his loss of control. He came up to the present. His parents and Felria were dead, Borric was retired, and who knew about Sean or Brent. He thought of his awe for the knights he had seen, and understood why Little Rat and Lissa might look up to him. That was one of reasons he had placed Little Rat in the 'kanis' care -- so that the girl could see more lifestyles; so that she could make her own choice. Lancos knew that ar'Elya by herself -- or should he say her selves -- could probably prepare Little Rat for whatever avenue she wished. And if she _still_ wanted to go on the warrior's path, he would be more than willing to teach her want he knew. He remembered Borric, and sighed upon the thought that if he saw the man once a year, it was unusual. Sure, he had trained with others, learning other weapons along with different means of fighting, such as the rudiments of wrestling and martial arts. But certainly not with intentness -- like 'Raelf had with the latter --, the detail he had from Borric. He thought of Sean and Felria, and of their possible modern-day equivalents in the group he would set out with tomorrow. Tarkyn was young, friendly, and struck him in much the same way Sean had early in his career. And Arienne -- who knew what would happen there. The warrior knew she and he were perhaps a strange match-up, but so had been Chendle and Ursula, and he and Felria. And ever since Alita had indirectly showed Lancos to put his former love in the past, the warrior knew there was nothing unhealthy about finding someone new. Before, fame had been something he had avoided, but in a strange way, he would now accept it. He still did not strive for it, but wanted to prove his ability to himself, and Generica and general if he could -- he must know that the medallion, Ak'Irneg, Alita, and the DragonQuest in total had not changed him _that_ much. As he ended his memories, he looked up, and saw that the sun had barely appeared, and morning was rapidly approaching. He quickly gathered himself together, and headed back to Generica. * * * * The sun pierced the sky, shining its luminescence onto the world as a pair of eyes glimpsed the city of Generica, and reveled in its beauty as if they were seeing it again for the first time. The man possessing the eyes grinned as he recalled what he had heard about the town, and how his urge to roam and explore places had caused Generica to hold particular interest for him. As the day began to shift from morning towards afternoon, he approached the South Gate. The guard posted at the gate was initially only momentarily distracted by the sight of a figure walking towards him -- just another visitor to this always-growing city. But then as the newcomer comes closer, he feels a sense of familiarity upon viewing the man. He sees the red hair, the forest green tunic, the dual weapons, and puts them together. And the face confirmed his suspicion. "Lancos Erredan! I haven't seen you in a long time, friend!" Lancos pauses for a moment, surprised to discover the half-elf who stood before him. "Brent! Good to finally see you again!" The two old chums immediately began to talk for a while, each sharing what had recently happened to the other. Lancos went first, summing up the DragonQuest, and telling of his more recent group. He finished with: "But I heard _you_ were in a quest also. What happened?" "Beats me." Brent said. "We arrived in Hawkesholme, and things sort of fell apart. While I was waiting for the 'leader' to come out of a magical trance, I explored the town, and got the information I needed for my employers here." Brent grinned inwardly, knowing he talked both of the Town Guard and the Thieves Guild in the last sentence. "And when I came back to the cave, none of them were there, all that was left was what turned out to be a teleport back to Generica." [ADMIN: In other words, Brent is back -- sort of. With the BBD kind of going on automatic pilot for a while, I'll have time to do another char soon, though not to "lead" anything. So, if you have "room" for Brent, or need/want some other char type, please let me know, and I'll see if I can't fit the role." "Well, thanks for keeping me informed. I'd love to talk more, but I've an appointment to keep. We'll have to see what we can do to stay in touch." He waved goodbye, and headed towards the Dragon's Inn. ... =========================================================================== [Final ADMIN: It's about time I did something like this. And what better time than the one-year anniversary of my presence on a.p.d-i (which Tue was)? I'll update the char summary (briefer than this, I assure you)... Though I don't know what I'll do _next_ year (Actually, I think/fear I _do_)...] Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu AKA Lancos Erredan (and Brent) MagicHutchHeader From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Games][BDAY][MG] Aftermath Date: 20 Jun 1993 19:41:52 GMT Message-ID: <202ei0INNeb9@news.gac.edu> ADMIN: My apologies for horning into the MG thread. The "Digging Trenches " post provided to much inspiration to pass up. Thanks! -MCC Out of the eight who left to confront the Elders, only three remain. Roger has somehow made his way to an elven enclave, unbeknownst to his comrades. Traveler has returned without the memory of what occurred. And Thorr-kan... The White Minotaur strides into Generica from the west. For once, the gates are not barred to him, the Watch gives him no trouble. This is good, because Thorr-kan is not in a mood to deal with petty annoyances today. He passes through the common room and heads up the stairs. When the minotaur reaches the door to the roof, he deposits his weapons and pack beside it. Thorr-kan opens the trap-door and puls himself up. He drops it shut behind him, turning then to face the city. Over Generica, the sun has set. But, strangely, the people have not begun returning to their homes. Instead, music and laughter fill the air. It is a time for Genericans to celebrate and enjoy life. The few that look to the top of the Inn see a shadowy figure watching their revelries. They mutter prayers to their gods and return to Generica's Birthday Celebration. Surprisingly, none of the roving demons bothered those in the shadow's sight. For most of his adult life, Thorr-kan has followed Kiri-Jolith of his own free will. But the events of the last few weeks have left him wondering. Thorr-kan has turned his back on the teachings of his youth and all it has given him is grief. He is exiled from his homeland. Never is there a moment for a private life. His very mate has been denied to him. The minotaur code is might makes right. The weak must be disposed of to make room for the strong. Country first, family second, and last of all, self. These are the values that separate minotaurs from the rest of Krynn. They have a guide by which to live. No others can say that. But somehow, the code lost something. Thorr-kan believed it with all his heart, yet something made him question. His questions led the White Minotaur to the service of Kiri-Jolith. Since then he has come to believe in the value of the individual, he has learned that even the weak may have contributions to make. And there are other kinds of strength than simple might. Finally, here was something Thorr-kan could believe in. Events of the last few weeks, however, have eroded that certainty. *** Time passes. Fireworks burst over the city while the residents celebrate their luck at being Genericans. The night will go down in legend as a party to end all parties. On the roof of the Dragon's Inn, Thorr-kan wonders, Why do I continue to struggle? I have lost friends, family, any chance at a normal life! I suffer at the whim of powers beyond my understanding. I questioned the justice of my homeland. My troops and I were betrayed as an example. I died, only to be dragged back in servitude. Into service I entered. My people branded me coward, outlaw, and traitor. After much grief and suffering, I led forth those who agreed with me. Helping them, become established, I then retired to my well earned rest. But that was not to be. One finally time I was called to battle. This time, all of Krynn was at stake. I led my people forth for the final battle, only to be removed at the penultimate moment and told a greater threat faced the entire multiverse. Thorr-kan shakes his head. Grief is not my only product of life, he realizes. There have been good times as well. My betrayal led to my enlightenment. I gained many noble and honorable friends. The return to my homelands united me with Sar-ella. We would never have crossed paths is not for my rebellion. To find such fire in one so small and unassuming... If not for the rebellion, what of my people? Their descent into darkness would have continued unabated. Now, we have a chance to survive. With luck, we can seize it. And the my part in the Godswar was done when I disappeared. My presence no longer made a difference on Krynn. Here, if not for me, untold number would have fallen to the Elders. But I never asked for such things. Would it have been better if I had simply never questioned and blindly continued on my way? Time passes. *** Dawn has risen over Generica. In the Plaza of Glittering Steel, work-crews begin cleaning up the mess left by various revelries. A band was also setting up, the likes of which the White Minotaur had never before encountered. Turning from his musings for a bit, Thorr-kan listens to their warm-ups. A power was there, the likes of which the minotaur had never before witnessed. This music entered the heart and sang to the soul; it demanded that you give yourself over to it. In spite of this, Thorr-kan does not sense any malice. There is a sense of urgency instead, like the band is gathering power to hold against a coming storm. Thorr-kan smiles. A deep, bellowing laugh echoes across the Plaza. The White Minotaur has his answer; his service will continue. The minotaur code is wrong. It is not a matter of might making right; it is simply that with great power comes great responsibility. As a warrior of great prowess and strength, Thorr-kan has such a responsibility. A trust has been given to him, one he will not doubt again. This is not his battle. But a call for help has been issued. Thorr-kan would be remiss in his duties if he did not offer aid. Again he laughs, and then, Thorr-kan surrenders himself to the music. Come what may, I will persevere, he thinks. -Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur ****************************************************************************** Peace through strength! Victory through annihilation! Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader Date: Sunday, 20 Jun 1993 18:40:37 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93171.184037344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] A Quiet Morning Meal [ADMIN: Thanks to the entire group for input into this.. We're finally getting rolling! ] Lancos entered the inn and headed for the table containing his group. He sighed as he saw that he was the last to arrive -- even Arienne was here, conversing and eating with them as if she knew them well. Only Kaalzic did not have a plate in front of him at present, but the warrior guessed the painter had already had his fill. Lancos almost reaches the table, before he realized Bast was still upstairs, and he'd need to fetch her. He changed direction to head for the stairs, trying to make the zag look planned, and trying not to blush in embarrassment at his forgetfulness. When he reached his room, he found it in partial disarray, though nothing like he might have feared. Bast was sitting on the end of the bed, and stared at him with menace. Lancos grinned "Oh, angry at me, are we? Well, I'm sure a good meal and some attention will cure that." He picked her up, and stroked softly under her chin, a move that made her look diminish, if not go away. He carried her back down the stairs, and to the table. As the warrior sat down, Darvos stated, "Ah, finally, the last of us. Fortunately, there is some substenance left, so that I can repay you for your earlier meal purchase." And what an array of food was present! Even though the warrior could tell that some of the spread had been devoured, plates filled the table, each usually completely covered with meat, bread, or fruits. Both Darvos and the staff of the Dragon's Inn had obviously put much effort into this, and with magnificent results. "Heh, this is _far_ more than I would have conceived. In fact, now I probably owe _you_. And not just an apology for my lateness." "Personally, I couldn't hold a grudge against you." Arienne answered. "Besides, if these people didn't mind me barging in -- so to speak --, I'm sure they could forgive such a minor thing." "Well, fortunately, Darvos also knows you." Lancos smiled suddenly. "Though if he hadn't, I'm not sure that would have stopped you.". Arienne only smiled back at that, while the warrior continued. "But anyway, please catch me up on what's been found, while Bast and I do the same as far as food." He started grabbing food, and passed some of it down to the cat. A few silent moments passed, before Kryalla decided to put her attention towards the statement. "Oh, I suppose it falls to me, then. Makes sense, I suppose, since we shall be following my directions." If Lancos could have talked with his mouth full, he would have asked for more information. As it was, his expression did a fair job of showing that sentiment, and Kryalla had expected such a reaction anyhow. "Rescue mission. Easy enough. The rest can wait." As if to emphasize her point, she grabbed an apple and began to munch on it. And all could tell that the Shrouded One hid more than her face right now. But some sense led them all to not inquire further, inwardly knowing that the final word had been said on the subject. They finished the meal, any conversation switching to the matter of getting to know one another a little better. And even _that_ was minimal, a silence that some might have found uncomfortable prevailing. But this group found it more ... familiar than unusual. And words were largely unnecessary, for, when you came down to it, they were like enough in their ways to know each other as they knew themselves. Each had worked with groups, but above all, had strode through life as an individual. Each had tales involving their solo excursions; each had secrets that even their best friend or spouse would never gain access to; each knew pain as well as joy, anger as well as happiness, loss as well as victory, but kept most if not all of those emotions to themselves. Thus, it was perhaps not so strange that these six were together. Something beyond fate or coincidence had linked them, something that was perhaps a companion to the lone wolf spirit. As they ate together, they also bonded together, and together would meet whatever lie ahead. They packed up a few remnants of what they could not finish, and tipped and thanked Littlefair and his crew one final time for their hospitality and service. Then they exited the inn and stepped upon Dragon's Lane. And either unseen or dismissed by all of them, an elf rose up from another corner and followed them out. Once outside, he took off at a run, soon passing the group to their right, and continuing along his way. He soon arrived at the door to a warehouse, and knocked in a pattern -- twice, pause, three times, pause, twice again, pause, once. A Thurlan opened the door, and Parsephulas stood nearby. The warrior smiled when he saw who it was. The elf immediately strode up to Pars, and whispered in his ear, the words serving to widen the man's smile. Finally, the elf departed, leaving Pars to distribute the news. "Today." he said. "Today they come. Be ready.". And even before the final words were out, daemons -- and the Gutt Man -- started setting up in their positions, eagerly anticipating what might come today. * * ** Compared to what had occurred in the Inn, the time on the road was so quiet, it was as if the group were passing through a tomb. Darvos led, having been given the appropriate navigation by Kryallla earlier in the day. Instead of walking with them, the Shrouded One was in her raven form, overseeing what occurred. Meanwhile, the rest of them trodded on close behind the mage, the only sound they made -- to add to the slight howling of the wind and the murmur as businesses operated -- being the scraping of their boots on the cobbled path. Eventually, they came upon the front door of a warehourse. Kryalla landed nearby, and shifted back to human form, while Darvos magically inspected the door. "Locked, but not trapped." he said. "No problem." Arienne smiled, and set to work quickly. In a few seconds, a slight snap was heard as the tumblers gave way. "Easy. _Too_ easy, some might say, though _I_ certainly never find anything that way." Even though there was humor behind the words, the others correctly took it as a warning sign, and prepared themselves for anything. Then, carefully, with as much silence as possible, they opened the door. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu AKA Lancos Erredan SAQ:"Nothing easy is ever simple"-Plucky Duck, _Tiny Toon Adventures_ MagicHutchHeader Date: Mon, 21 Jun 1993 09:36:53 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93172.093653ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Dreamer Drowning WARNING: Extreme whining to follow. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- HELP! I'm swamped! I was out most of last week while trying to recover from an illness left over from my wonderful days of mono, I have returned to find my mailbox filled with 76 messages, I have lost the two most important disks in my pitiful little world, I have to teach a class tomorrow and have nowhere to teach it, I didn't get my raise, and the secretary is out today! Please forgive me if it takes a few days for me to get things back on-line, I really am trying my best :~( 'Raelf, please hold a copy of any posts concerning Little Rat or Luthor for me in case they disappear off APDI before I have a chance to read them. Love and Peace and BAD Luck, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn,alt.pub.havens-rest From: cmeadows@nyx.cs.du.edu (Chris Meadows) Subject: ADMIN: How about synopses? Message-ID: <1993Jun21.145045.26008@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Mon, 21 Jun 93 14:50:45 GMT Hello. I had a great idea that I felt would apply equally to both alt.pub.dragons-inn and alt.pub.havens-rest, so rather than waste time posting to both individually, I am posting to both at once. alt.pub.dragons-inn is, as you know, over a year old, and alt.pub.havens- rest is several months, at least. In this time, a lot of stuff has happened, and as it is now, the group could get rather confusing to people who are just joining. I think it would be a good idea if we could avoid this confusion by writing brief synopses of our threads. For example, on apdi, the [BBD], [MG], [Sorc], and [JOI] threads could use some explanation, and the [Hive] and (whatever that thread is about exploring the giant dere- lict alien spacecraft) on aphr might benefit from similar treatment. I am in the process of writing a synopsis of my own for the [AU] thread on alt.pub.dragons-inn, and will post it upon completion. The amount of detail to go into depends entirely on you; if the thread is almost as old as the group itself, perhaps only fairly recent events ought to be covered in detail. I am attempting to make my synopsis as clear as possible, so that those who want to understand my thread without having to go back and read all 800K or so of my deathless prose (though I would, of course, rather they did... :) will be able to do so. After these synopses are complete and posted, I feel they should be archived somewhere. alt.pub.dragons-inn has a most capable archivist, mrhyde@netcom.com, who could probably put them up for FTP. And perhaps periodically they could be updated and reposted as ADMIN notices normally are, with each author responsible for his own thread's synopsis. In the communications theory course I'm taking, "information" is de- fined as "that which reduces uncertainty". I feel that synopses could be very important information to both alt.pub.dragons-inn, and alt.pub. havens-rest. Please post feedback (another important comm theory term :) about what you think. Thanks! -- Chris Meadows | Robotech/RIFTS/Palladium fanfic author/editor CHM173S@SMSVMA | They Might Be Giants about Star Trek aliens: CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU | "Everybody wants prosthetic foreheads CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU | on their real heads!" MagicHutchHeader From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: ADMIN: How about synopses? Date: 21 Jun 1993 18:38:44 GMT Message-ID: <204v7lINN1j2@news.gac.edu> References: <1993Jun21.145045.26008@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> In article <1993Jun21.145045.26008@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> cmeadows@nyx.cs.du.edu (Chris Meadows) writes: > Deleted for sake of band-width. (Sorry, Chris!) I seem to remember seeing several attempts at this in the past. But none of them ever got going very well. Maybe it's time for another try. I am volunteering to collect and post the synopeses if I get any. Net access is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, so I won't have any problem there. Ideas and comments (and hints!) would be welcome. Who knows, maybe I'll even get around to explaining about [Roaming] someday. -Matt C. ****************************************************************************** Nuke 'til they glow, then shoot 'em in the dark! Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: Re: ADMIN: How about synopses? Message-ID: <1993Jun21.212448.29161@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> References: <1993Jun21.145045.26008@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> <204v7lINN1j2@news.gac.edu> Date: Mon, 21 Jun 93 21:24:48 GMT In article <204v7lINN1j2@news.gac.edu> mcutter@nic.gac.edu writes: >I seem to remember seeing several attempts at this in the past. But none of >them ever got going very well. Maybe it's time for another try. >I am volunteering to collect and post the synopeses if I get any. Net access >is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, so I won't have any problem there. Hokay, remind me to swamp your mailbox. >Ideas and comments (and hints!) would be welcome. Idea for posting format [Thread Name] First Character (adress) Second Character (NPC) Third Character (Adress) Fourth character (General/thread NPC) Based out of: base location. Quest: single sentence describing task. Synopsis: A paragraph or so describing the thread. Example: [NTY] Palandun (arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu) Ja'nis (NPC) Gunther Toodie, Dawg the Dragon, King Glorrin (Thread NPC) Based out of: Dragon's inn, Generica. Quest: A description of the adventures of Palandun the Bismanian during his stay on the continent. Synopsis: Palandun traveled to Generica to complete his graduate studies in biology, while there he befriended Ja'nis the warrior, who took a job under Gunther Toodie, a Gem-merchant. On a trip to visit the scource of Gunther's gems, Palandun was sold into slavery, He is currently escaping and finding a way to free the other captives. The thread has also encountered Jorma and Rackesh, other bismanians who are on the continent due to running away from an abusive family and being thrown in exile, respectively. A note on NPCs: A plain NPC is a subordinate of the PC described just before. A "Thread" NPC is one useable by any member of the thread, a "General" NPC is one useable by anyone in APDI. I really think we should make this a Periodic Posting. MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roger] Synopsis. Date: 21 Jun 1993 22:52:11 GMT Message-ID: <205e2r$bt@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> ADMIN: Who knows where this will end up stored, but here is the first installment. [Roger] The Jolly Roger (taz@athena.mit.edu); Endo, Giarr, Kayell (NPC Sylvan Elves). Based out of: The Glade (cool name, eh?) Quest: The Ongoing Adventures of the Jolly Roger Currently: Gathering Info on the Suspected Threat to the Sylvan Kingdom ----- Background: Roger is a male physical adept from the Boston Sprawl on Earth, circa 2050 A.D. He is from the Shadowrun milieu, where high technology stands side by side with reemerging magic and monsters. After two aborted threads, Roger is now in this mini-thread. (Perhaps to become a full-blown thread in the near future.) Synopsis of [Roger] ----- "Well, ya see, it all started when I found myself in these foot hills out near the Great Forest. I was following this trail, wondering what to do, when I was attacked by this giant. "After takin' care o' that, I wandered a bit more. I got lost, so I climbed a hill ta do some recon. I spotted a grove of trees a ways off, and decided to go there. "Well, I climbed down and suddenly this arrow nearly skewers me. I ran off, and dodged a few more sniper attacks. I reached the grove after a near miss, and climbed a tree to set my own ambush. "After forever, these elves entered the scene. 'Cept they weren't regular elves, they were the green type. Ya know, sylvans. I got in a scrap with them, but there were three of them and they were fast, damn fast, and not too bad at fightin' neither. "Comes down to it, I saw I was gonna lose, so I surrendered. Well, they took me back to their place. Only, the place they took me was a city in the trees. Problem was that there was no way this could've fit in the glade, so I figure we passed through a gateway or into a pocket dimension. Somethin' like that. "I almost forgot to mention that the elves knew karate and bowed and stuff, and that the palace was just like back in Old Japan, and that they talked about somethin' called 'the Way.' Well, I learned my karate back home, and I'm good at it, so I guess they were curious. "Well, the elves take me to see their queen, and she invites me to stay and show them my stuff. So, I agreed. After all, the queen was pretty hot, even if her skin was green. "A month passed, and I got to be tight with one of the ambushers, name of Endo. One day, he tells me he has to go on a secret mission for the queen. Later, the queen asks me to go with them, to check out if the kingdom is being threatened by all these circumstantial little things that are going on. I agree, and then she adds that she wants me to look out for Endo, turns out they got something goin' on. "Well, we left a couple of days later, early in the morning, and headed for Generica to check it all out." ----- "And that's that." The Jolly Roger aka Brian Shea aka taz@athena.mit.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] Palandun: The Halls of King Gorrin. Ja'nis: Return and Message-ID: <1993Jun21.231552.11885@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Mon, 21 Jun 93 23:15:52 GMT Palandun sank. This turned out to be much easier than he'd thought, and he hardly drifted at all when he reached the bottom. 'All right,' He thought, where would it be?' He felt around, the water being too muddy to see. His fingers grasped something, the pulled it in: A sword. By feel, his sword. Palandun had lucked, out, Gynsoo had done just what it should have, when it felt it's owner being dragged away unconscious, it had implanted itself in the substrate, falling through the boat's hull. The sword was smart, very smart. Palandun half drew the blade and cleaved the chains holding his limbs together, and shot up for air. He had drifted a bit on the way up, though. Which was probably just as well, seeing as those orcs were pointing arrows at- Arrows?! Ooop! He dove again. Eventually, he pulled himself up on the shore, makeing a note to himself that water was near useless as a shield, but made decent cover. It was then that he noticed that it was windy, and he was wet. He started walking to leeward, hoping his shivering wouldn't get out of hand. "Come in, come in!" The farmer said, throwing a cloak over Palandun, then showing him into the dining room. "Mom! We have a visitor!" Not surprisingly Palandun found it necissary to explain why he was marching downwind in wet clothes carrying a sword and wearing manacles. The truth took a little convincing, especially mom, who was still suspicious that they had given a raving lunatic escaped from some prison at Varande a cloak and some food the next morning. After getting directions, Palandun set off and, in a couple days, came upon the halls of King Gorrin. Again it took some convincing to get the guards to accept that Palandun was really an ambassador and not some roving lunatic. Eventually it was actually a warning that convinced King Gorrin to see him. "I have been warned about you." Gorrin said as Palandun stood before him in the throne room. "That's how you got in here, if I'd not been warned to "No, O Great and Powerful King, but my master's informants have. He is an example of the worst charactersitics of his species: a rogue, a liar, a raper of children-" "Aw, gimme a break!" Palandun interrupted. "Do you deny these charges?" Gorrin asked. "You betcha!" "Then you must be tried by combat. Prepare the arena. Ambassador Shirek, would you like a weapon?" "'Scusage?" Palandun said, seeing everything move to fast. "Trial by combat?" "Are you afraid, human?" the orc asked, picking a sword. "Yeah, but that's not the point. Gorrin, the only thing a trial by combat is gonna prove is which one of us is the better swordsman. Can we at least table the matter until the reason for my comming is cleared away?" "You would allow his words to hang in the air, uncontested?" "Provided they also remained unproven, yes." "Coward! This human lacks honor. Gracious King, would any dwarf allow a sully on his name to hang in the air like so much putrid gas?" "I'm not a dwarf, and the freedom of all those slaves in Dawg's mines is more important than my good name." "SLAVES?!" Gorrin roared, "Human, can you prove this?" Palandun pulled one of his manacles out of his belt (he had cut them off at the farmers) and dropped it at the king's feet. "That was mine." Palandun said, quietly. The king did very little quiet. Before either Ambassador could object the orc was thrown in the dungeon and the Dwarven Generals were being called to a council of war. "King Gorrin," Palandun said when he could finally get a word in edgewise, "I felt as you do when I first escaped, but since then I've been thinking that war is an ugly thing, and I have a better idea." * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Ja'nis rolled over, feeling the heat from recent lovemaking dissipate into the air. "I love you." Gunther's voice said from nearby. "I moved heaven and earth to get you." "I would hardly call dropping your wife off to keep some business connections 'moving heaven and earth', wherever that is." "It wasn't just her, I had to get rid of your lover too." "What lover?" "You mean Palandun wasn't...Oops." MagicHutchHeader Date: Monday, 21 Jun 1993 15:08:49 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93172.150849344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] Dream wars,part 1: Invasion of My Privacy [ADMIN: Major thanks to Dan Peters for writing the bits involving Myrnien. In fact, I could/should say that part is posted for him.] In one of his many houses, sitting on his self-made throne, BBD smiled. Generica's night of celebration had left room for even him to be happy. He had sent some of his own -- for even though they were really Arcania's, he considered them his property now -- daemons out. They had been more subtle and less aggressive than the clowns had been, and now several more citizens wore the blue runic bracelet that symbolized his empire and allowed him control. And now, just a few seconds ago, came word that the so-called heroes were on the way to the warehouse. There was a good chance they would be defeated there, but if not, they would likely come here, and meet their match. His forces must be ready, though, and so he scanned his servants. Gutt Man was with Pars; no reason to worry about him until the battle started. Velric was beginning his ritual with Lissa's blood; best to leave him alone, since if success came, it would enhance his _own_ power. Myrnien... ah, poor Myrnien, trying to find a way to escape again; he'd squash that attempt before it even really started... * * * * Myrnien paused and caught her breath. Just now, her mind had gone completely _blank_ for a moment. She was seated at the small table in her room, with a quill in her hand. A small piece of paper had, in her own handwriting, "I am" followed by a fragment of a word. Something had caused her to forget what she was doing, and whatever else she was thinking, even on several subconscious levels. She dropped the quill, knelt on the floor, and started some breathing exercises to calm herself. Full memory returned. It was BBD. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu & Dan Peters peters@physics.ubc.ca MagicHutchHeader From: bonapart@drycas.club.cc.cmu.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Radj^o man] Prelude- reintro Date: 23 Jun 93 06:43:13 -0400 Message-ID: <1993Jun23.064313.1@drycas.club.cc.cmu.edu> Prelude: The Radj^o man: A figure of folklore dating back from the first Generica. Originally a creature of terror who preyed on unclean women, currently just thought of a ÔbogeymanÕ to scare children with. - ElmyÕraÕs guide to folklore and superstition, volume 3. The woman had been riding for several weeks, and when Generica rose into sight a smile broke out on her face. ÒA bed and a warm meal tonight, thank god!Ó Her horse continued to plod along, keeping its thought to itself. Delena smiled, and stretched. The trip north had been long, tiresome (at times), and dangerous, but it had also been rewarding. Here and there around her person were cashes of various rare materials that some wizards and sages would chop off their right arms for. Or someone elseÕs. She drew a strip of cloth out of a pack, and tied her hair up out of her face. It was a warm day, and even if she had been traveling for almost a month, it was no reason to ride into town disheveled. Riding up to the East Gate, she recognized one of the Guards. "ÒPeter!"Ó Peter turned around, and saw her. "ÒDelena! ItÕs nice to see you again... momÕs been worrying about you.Ó" She shook her head and sighed. Peter'Õs mother ran a small food store near her house, and was constantly trying to mother her. It got hard to resist. Peter waved her through, and she smiled as she came up to her place. It wasnÕt large, but it was big enough for george and herself, her shop and their experiments. She slid off the horse, and opened the place. A few hours later, she wandered by Sylvia'Õs foods, the local mom-&-pop store. "ÒHi, Morris. Sylvia around?Ó" "DELENA!Ó She grinned. "ÒApparently so."Ó Sylvia navigated her bulk out of the back of the store, and regarded her with dismay. Ò"Every time I see you, you are so thin! Why donÕt you eat? My Charles here, he is a bird and he eats more than you!" Charles, a brightly colored tropical bird on her shoulder, woke up enough to echo her "ÔDonÕt eat! DonÕt eat!Õ". "ÒSuch a noisy bird. So, you are home now?Ó" Delena nodded. "Òyeah, and I'Õll need you to send over some food... the usual order. IÕ'll take some stuff now to eat" Sylvia nodded, and as Delena shopped, she looked up and frowned. "ÒStormÕs coming."Ó Delena frowned, and looked around. "ÒDoesnÕt look like it to me... clear sky, no clouds...Ó" Sylvia shook her head. "ÒNo... a storm. You canÕt see it yet, but itÕs coming."Ó Delena picked up a few fruits and vegetables, paid, and wandered home, breathing in the strong scent of a medival-fantasy town. ÔWell...Õ she thought, ÔItÕs nice to be back.Õ ADMIN: Well, itÕs summer, and I'Õm back. Got some interesting ideas, too.... -john bonapart@drycas.club.cc.cmu.edu Formally jf2z@andrew.cmu.edu (John C. Fiala) MagicHutchHeader 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) MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roger] Camping can be so much fun! Message-ID: <20a7hr$4bs@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> Date: 23 Jun 93 18:31:23 GMT The four companions made their way through the forest, heading back to the glade where Roger had first encountered the sylvan elves. Roger had learned during his month long stay many things about the elves, and one of them was the nature of the sylvan realm. The sylvan city actually existed within a pocket dimension that was reachable by numerous glades throughout the world of Nexus. The pocket dimension and the connecting portals had been discovered long ago by a nomadic group of sylvan elves. They had first used it as a means of transportation, but eventually had settled within it. The dimension had come to be known as Amiliza, after the first great sylvan queen. Not only had the realm acquired the name, but every queen since had taken the name Amiliza upon her coronation. Roger suddenly noticed that the trees were smaller, they had exited Amiliza and re-entered Nexus. Roger felt out of place in the group. He would have felt fine in it were only him and Endo. Even the addition of the veteran Giarr and his gruff but overall friendly way would have been okay. But Roger kept noticing the unfriendly stares of Kayell, not to mention the occasional sarcastic comment. Roger didn't know what Kayell's problem was, but he hoped that it wouldn't become a problem. "So, we're off to Generica. Do we have any leads?" asked Roger. "I don't even understand why you're coming along," grumbled Kayell. "What does it matter? Roger is obviously a competent warrior, and more than welcome as far as I'm concerned," said Giarr. "To answer your question, Roger, we have a very minor lead. All of the scrying attempts originated from somewhere in Generica. Beyond that, we have nothing." "Well, at least it's a start," Roger said. Kayell snorted, and Roger shot him an annoyed glance before the group moved on, soon exiting the Grove and entering the foothills. It was an uneventful few days as the group worked their way through the hills, finally emerging from them and into the Great Forest. It wasn't the straightest route they took, but it was the Giarr said it was the fastest. As Giarr told it, "I've been through these hills at least a thousand times." Roger thought that what he said was literally true. It had been another two days since they had entered the Great Forest, and they had been moving quickly and quietly. Roger had once asked why, and all three of the elves had looked at him in surprise. Giarr had simply said, "This is a dangerous place." They hadn't encountered any trouble, but the elves caution was starting to make Roger edgy. To add to Roger's unease, things hadn't gotten any better between Roger and Kayell, in fact they had gotten worse. Roger and Giarr were getting to know each other, Roger was learning to trust the veteran's vast experience and Roger had earned the respect of Giarr through his prowess at the forms and his cool thinking. Kayell say this as a betrayal by his friend Giarr, and became more hostile towards Roger. At one point in the journey, things had been tense when Roger had offered some advice to Kayell as he was sparring with Endo. Roger was by far the most advanced in the group, with Endo second, and Giarr and Kayell just about even at third. "Don't fight the throw. You can't prevent it, so add your own momentum. That way, you gain control of the throw and can decide where to go and how to land. Otherwise, you'll be flat on your back." "I can prevent it. Your advice is needless," Kayell said between clenched teeth. Roger shrugged his shoulders. Roger then watched as Kayell painfully landed on a shoulder after Endo executed the throw. "Told you so," Roger had said smugly. Kayell had charged Roger, but an alert Giarr had grabbed and held him before he could reach the human. It took a moment or two of being held before Kayell calmed down somewhat, and Giarr let him go. Kayell left the camp muttering, "Not worth it anyway." He was gone for several hours, and when he came back the incident wasn't mentioned. That had happened the night before, and now Roger made sure that there was someone between his back and Kayell at all times. He didn't think that Kayell would do anything, but he was seriously worried. He couldn't understand what he had done for the elf to hate him so much. The group was moving through the woods at a nearly silent jog, a grueling pace that Roger was only able to keep up with due to his month of training and excercise back at the palace. Suddenly, Endo held up a hand, and the group came to a stop, dropping into ready positions. Roger strained his eyes and ears, trying to hear what had caused the halt. Endo silently signalled using battle-sign, a sign language meant for occasions exactly like this. Endo signed that he had caught movement on their left flank, paralleling theirs. He indicated that someone, or something, was following them. ----- The Jolly Roger aka Brian Shea aka taz@athena.mit.edu Hello, comments welcomed. MagicHutchHeader From: bshsiung@quip.eecs.umich.edu (Bernard Hsiung) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Synopsis Date: 23 Jun 1993 20:00:09 GMT Message-ID: <20aco9$9lh@zip.eecs.umich.edu> [MG] The Mage Guild thread (previous incarnations and relations to: [R] Rameshandar thread, [MI] Moriarty Investigations, [Mage Guild], [Storm]) writers and characters: Kelly J. Cooper (kjc@cs.rutgers.edu) Jameson W. Walker Andrea Evans Kadrys Bernie Hsiung (bshsiung@eecs.umich.edu) Dariel (and most of the rest of the Mage Guild when necessary) Aaron Humphrey (temporarily aaronh@ersys.edmonton.ab.ca, currently no access) (You _really_ want me to list _all_ his characters?! Oh, man. Uh...) Alfvaen/Elstree/Lassiviren, Bronwen, Maleiu, Mistletoe, Ornigan, Teonyl (I've probably missed a few, but not all of them were directly involved.) The Dreamer (asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Luthor Anside, Little Rat (and a host of others) Penny Hutchison (penny@agora.rain.com) ar'Elya hat en 23 (Silver Warrior) Steve Hutchison (hutch@hutch.it.intel.com) 'Raelf het ae 25 (Raf, Lex, Kev, Orim) Phyllis/Liralen Li (li@inigo.data-io.com) Kardia Xvaramene, Joy NPCs (mostly thread NPCs, Archmagi available on a lending basis): The Big Bad Guy: Mar (and R) of Third The Mage Guild: the Archmagi (Dasham, Delalle, Fauteuil, Leonaco, Nescie, Rivy, Thorn, Urcohea) others (Dieter, Coral, Gwaliostrok, Nijorik) miscellaneous: a good lot of the rest of Generica including but not restricted to Amaan, Delmara, Grumbli Blisterthum, Slim, Moriarty, Queriche, ... Based out of: all Nexus, but mostly Generica and environs of late Primary Quest: To find and undo the works of the Reaverschild Mar. Synopsis: There are a huge number of subplots in this thread. Not all of them are mentioned in the synopsis, and, of the ones which are, most aren't given anywhere near as much exposition as they deserve. (Hint: which characters are named above but not below?) This is a "big picture" summary. Some battles are petty and meaningless. Some battles are universal and perpetual. One of the latter is the War between the Keeper of the Beacon of Hope and His sworn enemy, the Reaver. These two struggle against each other in all existences, in every reality. The Keeper fights for the continuation of life. The Reaver fights for the ending of all things. Often, their battles are subtle and go unnoticed by the inhabitants of the Places in which they War. But sometimes, they become explicit and a few individuals working on either side may turn the tide... Dariel, a Servant of the Keeper, arrives in Nexus on a mission for his Master. Shortly after disposing of several rebellious Servants, he is found in the Rameshandar desert and trapped by the mage Amaan, who plans to tap Dariel's abilities to increase his personal power. Enroute to Generica by sea, Amaan's ship is attacked by pirates, and Dariel escapes. He imprisons Amaan in turn, and speaks with Death, who tells him that the way to Nexus is open to the forces of his Master's enemy. He resolves to seek out one who understands the nature of the Place where he is, in order to learn how to best apply himself, should he be needed. Meanwhile, there is much turmoil in the Generican Mage Guild. Supreme Archmage Delalle, the head of the Guild, has isolated himself from the daily running of the Guild to meditate -- for the past twenty years. During this time, the Guild has suffered a number of crises that have led some of the other Archmagi to believe Delalle has been irresponsible in his leadership. The main pressure to have Delalle replaced comes from Thorn, the ruthlessly ambitious Archmage of Politics. But Delalle is loyally supported by Urcohea, the Archmage of Internal Security, who has been authorized by him to act as Supreme Archmage in his absence. Urcohea hires Moriarty Investigations in an attempt to gather evidence about Thorn's underhanded dealings. At the same time, a tiny fragment of an once-powerful Reaverchild named Mar floats into Nexus and awakens. He arranges events to establish himself in the body of Nescie, the brilliant but relatively inexperienced Archmage of Education. He begins to draw power to himself, primarily by murdering forgotten gods, and uses it to construct new deities that favor his reality. This does not go entirely unnoticed, though Mar is very cunning in his application of energies. The signs of a disaster of unimaginable proportions is written in the stars, though the essence of the struggle obscures its precise nature. When Dariel reaches Generica, Delalle emerges from his seclusion to greet him, and it is revealed that Delalle's withdrawal from the world was in preparation for Dariel's arrival. Mar's activity in Nexus is correlated by an oracle that Dariel consults. Dariel's presence does not go unnoticed, either, and he is contacted by the 'Kan Travellers ar'Elya and 'Raelf. Several of Mar's new godlings are neutralized with their help. Yet Mar himself remains elusive, and Dariel cannot find him. Though Nescie is heartened by the unexpected appearance of his friend Jameson, Mar's usurpation of his body causes him to feel ever increasing amounts of stress, and he is unable to determine the true cause. Delalle loses his position as Supreme Archmage, although the vote is very close, and, in fact, the balance is tipped because of Mar's influence on Nescie. Shortly thereafter, Mar destroys Delalle, but fortunately Delalle has already passed on to Dariel all of the critical information that he has collated. Perhaps emboldened by his success, Mar then creates an avatar named "R" to ambush and eliminate 'Raelf, but miscalculates and fails to win a total victory. R is left with a tangible piece of Hope enmeshed in his form which Dariel can use to find him, and hence Mar. R flees to Mar, who has invested too much power into R to risk losing him, and he takes them to a place he had previously created, where they await Dariel's arrival. The stage is set for the final act... (Or, at least, the one that resolves the Primary Quest. There are quite a few subplots and consequences that aren't anywhere near resolution. Which means I'll have to write a significantly different synopsis next time to let you know what they are.) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: asgds@acad2.alaska.edu Subject: Admin, Besht Mikar and others... Message-ID: <1993Jun23.111516.1@acad2.alaska.edu> Date: Wed, 23 Jun 1993 15:15:16 GMT Hello all, For the month of may I had no net access. Durring the Summer months I can't get to the computer lab all that often. So I won't be able to play for a while. When I come back in september I will pick up on the characters. Among my creations were the Happy Mage Inn, and the Temple of Besht I hereby give permission to use those locations and the characters associated with them to y'all until September 1. Have fun, Go crazy! Geoff MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] Palandun: War...almost Message-ID: <1993Jun23.220515.1604@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Wed, 23 Jun 93 22:05:15 GMT "Ambassador, you will be pleased to know that all is in readiness." King Gorrin said, "We have taken the outposts with very little fighting, and my rear is coming into camp as we speak. I'm going to release Shirek now." Palandun pondered how to respond to this, he had a feeling that 'Well done' wouldn't fly very far, kings being notoriously bad at being patronized. "Thank you." Palandun said, deciding to leave it at that. Gorrin ordered the orc released, and Palandun took leave to wander the camp. The dwarven army was sufficently different from the Bismanian Corps to bear noticing. They tended to be organized in companies of a hundred or so dwarves led by a captain, then brigades of about ten companies, then armies of two or three brigades. The two armies in the camp contained 7,000 dwarves between them. The infantry soldier wore chain mail and a helmet and fought with an axe, in theory always staying in the rank and file of the company in parade formation, but Palandun suspected that only the well-disciplined actually did that, and that company squares had a tendancy to devolve to a mob. Squares also seemed notoriously hard to steer, which, coupled with the inneficient communications system (runners and flags) scared Palandun should the unexpected happen. Another thing that scared Palandun was the lack of ranged weapons. "You're looking at the best army in the Mysty mountains." A dwarf said. Palandun recognized him as the Minister of War, an old dwarf with lotsa scars. He just checked himsef from making a sarcastic remark, instead saying: "Indeed?" The old dwarf lectured him for the next hour on the virtues of this army. It was with some relief that Palandun was recalled to the king's tent. "Dawg wishes to see you," Gorrin said, "He says that he would deal with the origionator of the idea. You don't have to go." "I'll go." Palandun said. "If you're not back in two hours, we're coming in for you." Palandun thanked the king, then rode off with the orc. Dawg was a cold dragon, meaning that he didn't have a breath weapon at all. (Those that breathe ice are called frost dragons) This did not make him much less fearsome, though, for dragons are a very intelligent breed and well equipped with natural weapons. "The one who escaped, eh? I could kill you now." Dawg said. Palandun rested his hand on Gynsoo. "Not without losing a couple fingers, maybe the front end of your tounge. Besides, I die and Gorrin comes in and kills you and takes your treasure for himself." "How do you know my orcs are not now destroying Gorrin's army?" "I don't, but I think it unlikely. Did I come here to trade barbs with you or was there some other reason?" "I wish you to explain your proposal, and tell me why I should accept it." "Sounds fair. Step one: You release all your slaves, voluntarily. Step two, you take on contract a contingent of dwarves to mine for you. Step three, you pay the dwarves a salary and never double-cross them. You should accept it because voluntary dwarven labor is much superior to involuntary human, at least when it comes to mining." "Oh? My slaves come for free." "No they don't. You have to pay to get them, pay to feed, clothe, equip, and guard them, and they have this tendency to do slipshod work and die. With voluntary workers, all you have to pay for is salary and guarding the fortress, and the work will be three times as great." "Three times?" "Easily. I can't negotiate for particulars, but if you would care to meet King Gorrin, perhaps he can arrange something." "Certainly, send him in." "Um... How about neutral ground? That way neither one has to worry." Dawg was better than his word. At his expense large boats were built and rivermen contracted to take them downriver to Generica, and the freed slaves were provided with a small stake and an apology. This was not an entirely selfless act, as the gems still had to be sold in generica, and a bunch of very disgruntled slaves tended to be bad for business. On his return to generica, the first thing Palandun did was send a report of the whole mess through the guild of messengers and porters to the Bismanian ethernet. The second thing was to contact Melwis about Generican criminal proceedures. MagicHutchHeader From: bshsiung@quip.eecs.umich.edu (Bernard Hsiung) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] ...With Friends Like These Date: 24 Jun 1993 04:35:03 GMT Message-ID: <20batn$h27@zip.eecs.umich.edu> [ADMIN: sequel to [MG] Who Needs Enemies... semi-concurrent with [MG] Kadrys: Dancing on a Highwire and [MG] Digging Trenches What we need is an article tree... *grin* ] . . . "Exactly how much is a meter?" Urcohea asked. "Yard," Kardia answered, offering a synonym. "span," [s-link/Urcohea: Everyone ready? Lane, Beta goes first, survey and eval. Kivil, Alpha's next, take what they give you, dig in and cover. Coral, consider yourself my shadow.] "pace..." {privmsg/Urcohea->Dasham: We're leaving now. You coming?} {privmsg/Dasham->Urcohea: Be with you in a bit. Need to make sure Kardia isn't going to die of your incompetence.} The mages passed through the revolving door. Just as Kardia had said, the two were standing a short distance from the Guild. It _was_ Dieter, Coral thought, or someone who looked and sounded very much like him. At that moment, the other one vanished. Dieter looked around as if he was searching for him, but paused, looking at nothing in particular. Then, he screamed and doubled over. [s-link/Urcohea: Coral! Get back here! CORAL!] She ran into an invisible wall that held her away from him. She banged on it, frantically calling his name, but he paid her no heed. She watched him cup his fingers, and with an infinite slowness, he pushed them first against, then _into_ his body. He clutched them together and pulled sharply. His hand came away stained wet with redness. A flickering light emanated from the opening he had just ripped in his chest. The barrier vanished and she would have fallen forward, if it weren't for the man in white robes. She tried to run to Dieter, but the man stopped her. "Wait, Coral," he said. Ignoring what Urcohea was yelling at her through the Guildlink, she pulled loose of his grip and tried to move around him, but somehow he was always between her and Dieter. She saw a huge silver form standing behind Dieter. Before she could react, it spread gigantic wings made of brightness as if to bring them crashing down upon them all, and the light coming from Dieter's body intensified and steadied until it shone like the fire of a newborn star. Dieter screamed again and shouted "MAR! HELP ME!" He shuddered, jerked, and folded upon himself, shrinking into a point of nothingness. In a burst of air and light, the silver form disappeared also. With a start, she realized that the white-robed man was talking to Urcohea, saying that she was the only one he would be taking, that it would be best for everyone else to return to the Guild so they wouldn't be needlessly endangered. Then he turned, held his hand to her, and asked her to go with him. She nodded and took his hand. Everything blurred around her, the only constant the man's grip on her hand. It was enough. His voice came to her as if her was speaking in her ear, clear and warm. "Listen carefully, Coral. I am Dariel. I have made time enough to say this once. Dieter is not himself; he has been taken over by a portion of a Reaverschild that names itself R. But R is not himself, either, fortunately; he has been changed by the battle he has fought. There are parts of three entities residing in Dieter's body now: Dieter's soul, the mage 'Raelf, and what is left of R. You have to try to get through to Dieter, however you can." "How will I know if I have gotten through to him? What do I do?" He smiled reassuringly. "You will know, when you see him. I have sent for Joy, who will assist you and sustain you while I engage the attention of the rest of the Reaverschild." The world stabilized for an instant, and Coral had the impression of a fancy restaurant, an unfinished meal, a body sprawled to one side. Huge wings the color of freshly-fallen snow extended from Dariel's back. They unfolded partially, somehow bending to surround her completely, as if a circular curtain had been drawn around her. When the curtain fell away, they were some Place else. -- Comments, compliments, and complaints can be conveyed to: Bernie Hsiung (bshsiung@eecs.umich.edu) MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roger] Look who's over for dinner... Date: 24 Jun 1993 07:59:26 GMT Message-ID: <20bmsu$lb4@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> The group waited, straining all of their senses, trying to detect a presence other than their own in the woods. It seemed like forever to Roger before Endo finally signed again. Endo finished giving the battle-signs and broke into a fast trot. The group moved in a rough diamond shape. Endo was at the head, Giarr and Roger at the flanks, and Kayell brought up the rear. Roger had been mostly a shadowrunner back home, but had served enough time as a merc to know where his zone was. He was supposed to concentrate mostly on the right and a bit forward, and he did so. As the group moved along, Roger felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Endo had been right, they weren't alone. Roger unfocused his eyes, staring into space and not at anything in particular. After a few moments, he started to pick up movement among the trees. Whenever he tried to focus on it, he would lose it. But he did get a sense of distance, the movement was about twenty yards away, and slowly but steadily getting closer. Roger gave a soft whistle, and signed to the others. Giarr signed back. Kayell signed as well. They all knew what was happening. Their flanks were slowing collapsing and they had harriers at their rear. They were being herded into a trap. The group could not keep going forward, that would be playing right into their hands, whatever 'they' were. After a moment of thought, Endo signed the command. Endo waited for acknowledgement from the others, and signed a final time, . Roger cut hard right, and broke into a dead run. Endo and Kayell became the left and right flanks and Giarr became the rear guard. Roger was now in the lead, but more than that, he was now in charge. Endo had chosen him over Giarr, he had suddenly become second in the line of command. All of this was wiped from his mind as the forest suddenly erupted with sound. The movement ahead was no longer silent, but accompanied by growls, shouts, and harsh horn blasts. They had broken free of some kind of silence spell, and could now clearly hear their pursuers. It was another second until the cries and horns sounded in warning, just moments before their pursuers came into sight. They were big, ungainly looking humanoids with mottled grey skin and no hair. They ran hunched over, wore mismatched pieces of armor, and carried a variety of rusted weapons, from halberds to spiked clubs. Roger could tell what they were just by looking at them. They were Grunts, out to kill what they were told to and completely expendable. The Grunts spotted the group and turned to intercept instead of parallel. Roger signed to the group.
Roger felt the familiar exhiliration as his senses shifted, his body speeding up as the magic flowed through his veins along with the surge of adrenaline. The world seemed to slow around him, the Grunts moving like they were underwater. Roger noticed that the elves had also centered, and were moving just a little slower than normal speed in Roger's speeded-up frame of reference. Roger couldn't help but chuckle as the group raced towards the Grunts. The sign for 'Center and Kill' was a fist with the middle finger extended. ----- The Jolly Roger aka Brian Shea aka taz@athena.mit.edu Comments welcomed and encouraged. MagicHutchHeader Date: Thu, 24 Jun 1993 16:04:06 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93175.160406ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Strangeness Abounds (Luthor and Erik) Scene: The Elven Quarter. Outside a house/tree, a golden-skinned man in a purple shirt and black pants is going through a series of stretching exercises. Time: Just past dawn. Luthor felt great. Usually, the stretching caused him a small amount of pain, but since 'Raelf re-shaped his body, he found that the pain had been erased completely. Luthor felt a hundred years younger and full of energy. A whisp of fog drifted toward him lazily. He spoke to it (a habit that he had picked up from Serene, his companion). "Hello little one." The whisp responded by swirling. It reshaped itself into the form of a whirlwind: Erik's sigil. Wasting no time, Luthor grabbed his BLACK cloak from its resting place on the ground and jogged back to the house. He opened the door and walked to the back of the library. Once there, he opened another door and entered the laboratory. "Erik, what's the matter? I saw the whips you sent - " Erik sat in front of a miniaturized model of Generica. Every detail of the city was represented, from to the shanties of the Low City to the strange shadows of the Shunned Center. Over the city's model floated a red haze that rippled and bobbed like the surface of a lake. It was mostly flat except for three places. "I finally got the model working early last night. After I helped you and 'Raelf out at the inn, I came back to find it like this. I thought the readings were off, so I spent all night fine-tuning it. The more I worked on it, the more severe the readings became. Look..." Erik said pointing to the three locations where the red haze dipped and became different colors. He pointed to the first one. It was directly above their current location, yellow in color. "This probability flux was created by us. It's showing the effects of the Kinnessee Anit-Teleportation Field in the basement." He moved to the next mark, a larger but more shallow depression in the haze that was above the Shunned Center. It was orange in color. "This one is caused by something in or near the Center. I think it was made by the Shun Runners subconsciously so they don't get caught by Creepy Charlie; sort of a group-wish or something." Luthor looked at the last depression. It the smallest, but most severe. It seemed to plunge from the haze straight down into the model itself. It gave off a hue of deep purple. "What about that one?" "That's the one I'm worried about. Something big is going to happen there. Something that is very risky and has an equal chance of coming out very good or very bad. It seems to be inside the Spitting Cobra," Erik said pointing to a tiny tavern in the model. "Should we go take a look?" Luthor asked still staring at the depression. It reminded him of a whirlpool...something was going to be putting a huge pull on Generica's probability field in the near future. "I think we have to. From the look of that drain, there's a lot at stake." Without further discussion, the two ShadowMakers left the Elven Quarter and headed south, to the Low City. ----- It was a slow day in the Cobra. Sugob had a few days off leaving Trawm the ugly task of cleaning up from the previous night's party. As the Half-Troll swept a dismembered hand into the dustbin, he reminisced about the good ole days, when people crowded his bar to see the fights for which his tavern was famous. The memory brought an old Orcish drinking song to his lips. As he worked, began singing the song. His voice was so lacking in tune that the sewer rats cringed and the t-crocs howled in pain: Hammer in one hand, Chieftan to de right, Over da hills we go, Dere'll be blood tonight! (Ha Ha Ha) Dem Elves are all wrong, Sword and axe make right, Oh what fun it is to sing dis slayin' song tonight! Oh kill da Elves, Kill da Elves, Bash them 'til dey're dead, Oh what fun it is to yell, And fill dem full of dread! Oh - "TRAWM!" Luthor yelled holding his ears and grimacing. "Sorry. I don't really hate yinz elfs, it just bring back da good fights I had when I were a pup." Trawm wiped a tear from his brown eye, then from his green one. He picked up his mop and blew his misshapen nose into the blackened strands of the greasy cloth. "Now, what can I get for ya." Erik entered the inn. "I didn't see anything unusual outside, maybe the model WAS wrong." Luthor reached into his BLACK cloak and pulled out deck of cards. He began shuffling them. Then, after they were sufficiently mixed up, he began turning them over, one at a time: Ace of Clubs Two of Clubs Three of Clubs ... He scanned through the deck and found them all in order. Trawm craned his neck to see what was happening. "Okay elfie-boy. Neat trick. Now, if you ain't gonna buy nuthin' den I got work to do." He picked up some dishes and carried them toward the kitchen. Luthor ignored him, "This is the right place." He looked around. "I don't see anything unusual that could be causing something this big though. Do you think it's a natural occurrence?" "Nope. Mix-up the cards again to be sure." Luthor shuffled once. The order was the same as before. A short shout and the sound of breaking dishes came from the kitchen. Luthor jumped over the counter and looked through the kitchen door. He was sure that he had found the cause of their problem. There, in the kitchen, was Trawm staring at a point in space that seemed to ripple and shimmer like heat rising off the Plaza of Glittering Steel. The rippling effect was spherical, about the size of a large mellon. From it came a distinctive noise. Something between the hiss of a snake and wind blowing through summer trees. Three feet below it, on the kitchen floor, was the scattered remains of Trawm's broken dishes. All of the fragments stood on end in a perfect circle beneath the shpere. The probability of the fragments landing in those positions was infinitesimal. Depsite three pairs of eyes looking around the room, a certain blond surfer-dude in the corner went amazingly unnoticed. His presence amidst this warp in space-time was of no concern to them. He was someone else's problem. Luthor turned to look back at Erik, who had joined him in the doorway. "This sphere's unlike anything I've ever seen. What is it?" "I don't know." The constant undulation of the sphere was almost as intriguing as its probability altering properties to the two Shades. Trawm looked over toward the watching pair with a twisted expression on his more-twisted face. He began to scream. Love and Peace and Medics, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader From: peters@physics.ubc.ca (Dan Peters) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] Dream Wars, Part 2: I Remember Now Date: 25 Jun 1993 03:04:14 GMT Message-ID: <20dpveINN35u@iskut.ucs.ubc.ca> "I remember now. I remember how it all started."-Queensryche, _I Remember Now_ [ADMIN: By Michael Sander and me. The name "Dream Wars" will make sense when part 3 appears, I promise.] >Something had caused her to forget what she was doing, and whatever else >she was thinking, even on several subconscious levels. >She dropped the quill, knelt on the floor, and started some breathing >exercises to calm herself. Full memory returned. >It was BBD. This was just the latest round in the Game between Myrnien and BBD. It wasn't a game she wanted to play, and all indications were that it was impossible for her to win. But to give up was out of the question. It had begun soon after the death of her friend Kari Ankra. He was a traveling priest of Fate, and had been one of Myrnien's companions in adventuring. On the day of their return to Generica, he had gone to his temple, saying that he needed to spend a week in meditation, and arranged for Myrnien to stay with his brother and sister-in-law. Later that day a messenger had come from the temple to say that Kari had been murdered on the way there, and they were investigating. Before Myrnien had had a chance to deal with her grief, there was a new problem. The next day a man came to Myrnien and her new friends, bearing gifts of consolation and claiming to be a friend of Kari's. Myrnien's gift was a blue runic bracelet. Before the day was out, she had put on her armour and had gone for a long walk. She didn't know where she was going, and to her own surprise and alarm, she didn't seem to be able to stop herself. She found herself going deeper and deeper into the Low City -- and wherever her destination was, she was going directly, as if she knew the way. At one point, as she walked through an alley, her way was blocked by two shabbily-dressed men, one wielding a shortsword and the other an axe. She stopped (fortunately, whatever compulsion had been forcing her to walk, released her at that point) and drew her own longsword. "Heh, a lady wearin' armer," said the swordsman. "Kinda unusual, huh, Buck?" His friend nodded. "If she's rich enough fer mail, she's rich enough ta help out a few poor unforchernits like us, I'd say." There was a sound behind Myrnien, and she glanced over her shoulder, and saw another two men walking towards her, blocking the other way out of the alley. They were already only six paces away. Something snapped inside her. With a quick lunge, she plunged her sword into the axeman's throat, and in almost the same motion, kicked off the wall in order to throw herself with maximum force, shoulder first, into the swordsman -- which served to knock him off balance, and effectively nullify the swing she expected from him, faster than she would have been able to parry it. He tried to grab her, but she had been expecting that too -- she had already intercepted his left hand with her own, and she ducked and spun under his arm as if they were dancing, thus interposing the man between her and the other two. When she finished the spin, she and the swordsman had their left arms fully outstretched -- and her right arm came down hard, burying her sword in the man's skull. It had all happened too quickly for her other two opponents to realize that they were outclassed, or else they might have fled, but as it was, they were nearly upon her. She gave the newly-dead swordsman a hard push with her right foot, which caused the corpse to veer into one of the other men, and freed her sword just in time to allow her to parry a blow from the remaining one. Judging that she wouldn't have time to properly take out her present opponent (who had both sword and shield) before the other one recovered from the momentary distraction of having a corpse fall on him, she feinted with her sword and (having fully regained her footing) gave a quick and precise kick which broke the man's knee. As he collapsed she turned her attention to her one uninjured opponent, just in time to parry a his swordblow. She counterattacked, and the man started backing away, having finally grasped the significance of the events of the last few seconds. The man's preoccupation with retreating allowed Myrnien to steer the duel toward the wall on her left, thus restricting the man's attack possibilities, and with this advantage, she soon beheaded him. She turned and walked back to the man with the wounded leg, and quickly killed him, despite his cries for mercy. As she wiped off her sword, she paused in thought, unsure why she had acted so brutally. This was totally unlike her. Normally she would have gone out of her way to cause as little damage as possible, and run away; or, failing that, to injure them one by one until those who could run from her did so, and then stop and help those she had injured. She was not fond of killing in the first place, and certainly not without good reason. Apparently the compulsion to walk had not exactly disappeared; it had merely transformed into a compulsion to butcher her assailants. And then she was walking again. When her walk had begun, it had aroused her curiosity, but after the fight she was thoroughly alarmed. It had to be some kind of magic. It didn't take long to suspect that the bracelet had a role in this, and the suspicion was strengthened by the fact that when she tried to remove it, she could not. Not that it was _physically_ difficult to remove. It might have been so, or it might not; there was no way to know. She couldn't touch the bracelet with her right hand, because she couldn't even adequately concentrate on doing so; she would get close, and then something as simple as the sound of the wind would distract her, and she'd end up where she had started. She had ended up at this house, and not surprisingly, she was expected. The man who had given her the bracelet was there; he greeted her by saying, "Ah, my latest recruit. It's so nice of you to decide to join me. You may call me BBD. I must say, you handled those four thugs adequately well; I'm happy to see that the reports of your ability were not _too_ greatly exaggerated." She fumed inwardly at this, but was unable to speak. It didn't matter, for BBD seemed to know what she was thinking. "Don't worry," he said, "you'll get used to working for me." She had been given a small, dingy room to sleep in, and immediately she was put to work. She had begun doing household work; washing dishes and sweeping up the floor and the like. She had never like such "womanly" labour, and it didn't come naturally to her -- even as a child she had done little of such activities, since there had been servants then. It didn't make any sense, at first, that BBD would give her such duties when he had "recruited" her apparently because of her fighting ability (to judge from his words to her when she had first arrived). But later, as she came to know him better, she realized that he simply enjoyed humiliating people. On a few occasions she was free of the compulsion to work. On one of these, she ran out of the house and went to find Kari's brother and his family, who were the only people she knew and was certain that she could find. Upon reaching them, she quickly uttered, "Please help..." before she lost her voice. She was unable to say anything more, and in the end nothing came of this but embarrassment on Myrnien's part, and confusion on theirs. She went back to the house, and gave up most of her hope of escape. That had been one of the last times she had been let out under her own control, but she still was active on the streets. She acted partially as a thug for BBD, collecting rent and clients for him, feeling heartbreak inside at what she was doing to them. But that was nothing compared to her other main role, that of seductress, forced to virtually prostitute herself to gain people's trust, so that she could entrap them with bracelets of their own. After one particularly emotionally painful time, she had thought that the only way she could count herself lucky was that BBD had not forced her to have sex with _him_, possibly a multitude of times. Obviously, BBD had found the comment amusing enough to reply, for soon she heard his voice within her mind: "My dear, while I _do_ own you body and soul, _I_ am quite above that human need. Besides, trust me when I say that you would not survive such an encounter, and the last thing I'd want to do is harm part of my property." It had been that event that had removed all doubt that BBD could read her surface thoughts. From that point on, she practiced keeping her schemes and more private thoughts out of her conscious mind. Including the plan which she had tried to implement this very morning. The plan was simply to write a message describing her situation. That had failed too, no doubt another layer of the magics upon the bracelet. But instead of finding herself merely unable to do it, her thoughts had all been momentarily erased, after putting only two words onto the page. It had taken some time to remember what she had been trying to do. Myrnien sighed slightly, and decided to get some sleep. Last night had been another evening full of activity, and it was only this morning that she found time to rest. And besides, it might heal her in more ways than one.... -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Michael Sander and Dan Peters, feeling less evil now that they've released that bit, and gotten out of that particular mode. 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu peters@physics.ubc.ca -- ^..^ / | Dan Peters | "There's too much craziness here - | /_/\_____/ | | in 25 years I have used all the tears | /\ /\ |peters@physics.ubc.ca| in my eyes." | / \ / \ | | -Kansas | MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [MG] Songs of Joy Message-ID: <1993Jun25.044037.1804@data-io.com> Date: Fri, 25 Jun 1993 04:40:37 GMT She was running, running in your eyes hard, following the tug of a call within the heart the light the heat of her. A tug at her warmth and her caring, at in your eyes the sweet knowledge within her healed heart that I am complete made her who she was. Joy was running towards Dariel's call for help. The music from those she'd played with ran through her like a stream and she held it close for comfort. She was frightened, a little. She could feel Dariel was facing that which had torn her out of the Chaos that had given her shape. She was running towards the being who had And these streets made her and who, most likely, Quiet as a sleeping army could unmake her. She Send their battered dreams to heaven, to heaven ran, lengthening For the mother's restless son her stride, halfway wishing Who is witness to, who is a warrior that Dariel had taught her the Who denies his urge to break and run. trick he'd used to walk through the world, to just appear wherever his heart desired. She remembered. She stepped. And found herself facing a man. Light flowed He looked beneath his shirt today from the rip in There was a wound in his flesh so deep and wide his chest Joy was warmed From the wound a lovely flower grew by the light, the beauty From somewhere deep inside. of Hope. Her maker struck from behind her. Icy hot claws of pain ripped through her. She screamed. It suddenly stopped. She fell into Maybe you will find a love the arms of the wild eyed man with the That you discover accidentally flower growing from his heart. Who falls against you gently She felt him jump at her touch. As a pickpocket The confusion he felt echoed within her, an Brushes your thigh. echo of the confusion she once felt at Dariel's touch when he caught her. She poured out her power, her essence of what she was and there were three responses. One was the one she'd kissed the other day. True to his word, he had not given up. The second was frightened and glowed with her touch. The third was ranting, crying, arguing with the other two while it slipped away from its master, her maker. The one I've got you under my skin within talked back, too. I've got you deep in the heart of me Joy grinned So deep in my heart, you're really a part of me and touched I've got you under my skin her hand to his. The master was I tried not to give in. not pleased, at all. Joy "What's your name?" whispered. He said "I can't remember... I can't remember." the confusion and pain were deep. The voices within echoed her question You're there crying and his anger blossomed hot and dark. I feel not a thing His pain worked at her, Drilling my way deeper in your head within her. Strong Sinking, draining, drowning, bleeding, enough to kill dead. her if she were only human. It still hurt. But he was hurting worse that she. She tried Bring me down you try to speak to him, Feel the pain and keep it all in till you die to tell him that Without eyes you cannot cry. this was not all there "Who's to blame?" had to be. "I can't remember... I can't..." "There The wound itself would give him power is a way The power to remake himself at the time of his darkest hour She said the wound would give him courage and pain The kind of pain you can't hide From the wound a lovely flower grew to remake From somewhere deep inside. yourself." "Remake myself?" His voice was hoarse. "How?" "What's your name?" He I'm coming home with a stone strapped onto my back. struggled I'm coming home with a burning hope turning all my blues to black. to I'm looking for a sacred hand to carve into this stone. tell her A ghost of comfort, angel's breath -- to keep this life inside my chest. This world falls on me with hopes of immortality. and Everywhere I turn all the beauty just keeps shaking me. only cried. Like a million little crossroads "Your Through the backstreets of youth choice." she Each time we turn a new corner whispered. "Be A tiny moment of truth. free." A woman, a merely human woman walked into their faceoff. Joy saw the brown hair, the quick eyes. Joy slid between the mortal and her unmaker, to make absolutely sure that the mortal would only be touched if she were dead. He saw LOVE, SEX, PAIN, CONFUSION, SUFFERING her. The mortal Baby, don't you know that I love you spoke to And I'd never put nobody above you the frightened He could promise the moon and the stars above one trapped within, Even if he promised me the world. trying to loosen the bonds. Just remember I'm forever your girl He could promise the world You gotta remember The trapped one I'm forever you girl. struggled harder. The one Love, love, love is a dangerous drug. who held the body You have to receive it mocked her and her and you still can't get enough of the stuff. love. It It's savage and it's cruel and it shines like destruction went too It comes in like the flood and it seems like religion far when it It's noble and it's brutal said, "Love controls It distorts and deranges you, girl. Love And it drudges you up and you're left like a zombie. destroyed you when it brought you here." The words caused fear to flare in the human part trapped within the whole. Joy saw the one she'd kissed put out both fears with his calm care. The almost free one spoke pain within Joy's head, "Innocence and arrogance, Little goddess. I sense you I may be mad inside-out. Cheerfully I may be blind You show me laughter I may be viciously unkind When I fall." She laughed But I can still read what you're thinking and *touched* his fear. "You wanted to know how to remake yourself." she spoke within him as he had within her. "Here, let me show I'll show you something good. you how I Oh, I'll show you something good. came into being." When I was just seventeen I ran away from home Joy reached deep To be with all the pretty people inside to show To be on my own him all she Bright lights and trains and bedsit stains had started with. And pavements paved with gold He simply nodded but she And I believed in everything that everybody told me felt the uncertain touch of his emotions on the memory Have mercy of her pain. She reached to Have mercy on me. to touch his pain as well, the rip that bared his heart. Joy touched No one on earth could feel like this him with the memory of I'm thrown and overflown with bliss Dariel's love and was There must be an angel surprised to find that she... Playing with my heart felt... for this one who was so much like herself. When you open your mind, "That's how you'll discover the sign I did it." she said softly, that there's something "You can do it. I'll you're longing to find... help." He was still oh, I want to be that complete frightened. And the I want to touch the light longing he held the heat I see in your eyes was sharp. As sharp as Have you ever heard the sound of disappointment? the thorns of a blood It tangles your head like a winter rose red rose. He laughed into the teeth of his own pain and hurt and cynicism. Too funny to keep inside, too painful to stay I'm trying to tell you something about my life, silent. His fear Maybe give me insight between black and white. was bitter with the The best thing you've ever done for me possibility of Is to help me take my life less seriously rue. So It's only life, afterall. he laughed instead of crying. He reached out to Joy, to take her hand. Joy wasn't sure if it was so that she could give him courage, if he wanted support to step out or so he could know what her feelings were for him. She took his hand. It was warm. Joy felt him searching her out with his eyes. She looked up to see through his clear eyes and caught her breath at unexpected beauty. His caught in fear. MagicHutchHeader =========================================================================== [ADMIN!!] Attributions and Acknowledgements: Much thanks to Kelly J. for helping with the Lyric Finding Process. Bemused thanks to Michael Sander for the thought of a post completely made with lyrics. And infinite thanks to Penny, Hutch, Bernie, Andrea, Dreamer, and Kelly, again, for all the plot bouncing to get this *right*. A flatline of the whole ending section of the [MG] line that spoils the whole line, but does spell it out in plain English 'What Happened' is available from me, li@Data-IO.com, on request. I'd almost rather people didn't ask for it. :) I think it's more fun uncut. :) The following songs are those quoted, without permission, for this post. They are roughly in the order quoted, though some songs have more than one piece in this post. "In Your Eyes" - Peter Gabriel "The Cool, Cool River" - Paul Simon "The Lazarus Heart" - Sting "Further to Fly" - Paul Simon "I've Got You Under My Skin" - Cole Porter "I Can't Remember" - Alice in Chains "Confusion" - Alice in Chains "World Falls" - Indigo Girls "State of Grace" - RUSH "Forever Your Girl" - Paula Abdul "Obsession" - Eurythmics "Why" - Annie Lennox "The Miracle of Love" - Eurythmics "Legend in My Living Room" - Annie Lennox on _Diva_ "There Must Be An Angel" - The Eurythmics "Here Comes that Sinking Feeling" - Eurythmics "Closer to Fine" - Indigo Girls "Butterflies" - Toad the Wet Sprocket on _Fear_ -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] InFighting Message-ID: References: <1993Jun12.023141.2788@data-io.com> Date: Fri, 25 Jun 1993 06:48:19 GMT [ADMIN] there's fragments of songs and things in here which are part of the great running MG lyric fest. See "Songs of Joy" for the attributions. We now return you to your regularly scheduled war, already in progress. MAR! HELP ME! <> He seemed to implode around a single point, like water down a drain. <> The wormhole would be lethal if the body he wore could die but he had changed it to prevent that. <> He staggered into the room. Mar was waiting there with the Walker. <> Blackness looked into Darkness and saw light therein, and was displeased. A human tried to interfere and R broke it. The death yielded Power which took them to a Pit prepared for the coming conflict. <> Something was wrong with the Pit - it should be an endless abyss of Blackness, a sucking vortex draining away at all who were not part of the Blackness, something subtle was happening, beyond the reach of his Hope-blinded senses. <> The pain blossomed again inside him. Pain because he knew he had ended the human, because he had allowed Mar to flex him like a hand. He withdrew from the connection. Mar gazed into him and despised him. <> The bonds tightened, his name was repeated in chains. Inside him a voice kept talking, distracting him, he couldn't obey nor could he really act to protect his singularity. Mar was weaving his chains tighter. <> {{sunt tris cosi persisti en aeternam, fe, caritas, experanzi. Fiat lux}} The chains snapped. Painful light was burning inside him again, the pain was anodyne to the smothering dark that had been wrapping his will. Coolness soothed the pain, the waters of caring that were coming from the fountain gift. <> The voice was speaking again, talking to the freedom inside him - he drew strength from some source - the power tap that the voice had carried when it was prey and he was merely a hunter. The voice was feeding him power. He grabbed the power, letting it burn the black from his "hand" as he warded away another set of chains. Name. More than these creatures, he _was_ his name, it defined his very nature. If he renamed himself hastily, would he be required to go into service again? A slave of Hope as he was a slave of Reaving? <> He felt the burning from the light of Hope as it bled out through the hole over his heart, shining on the Blackness. The blackness fell back, stung by the light. <> Yes, Mar would be destroyed in the end, but he would destroy everything else first. And if R took a new name, he might be destroyed in his own right. Fear, panic. <> Fear? He felt an insane lightness inflating inside him, the nearly-forgotten sense of humor that he had been gifted. Yes. A joke, but a grim joke inspiring harsh laughter. <> The lightness inflated again, bursting into a laugh that was/wouldbe echoed by the laughter of the creature of light and bells who would appear in the room. He knew her, the goddess of Despair Wrung From Agony. _She_ had a new name, Joy, and her beauty was so intense that it made the waters of his internal fountain overflow from him. But this was out of time. The temporal anomaly left him confused, for a moment. Someone touching him across the folds of the bend in time. +From the wound a lovely flower grew+ Mar scorned his weakness and struck at his eidolon of the Goddess, anger and despite were his club. <> Is that why the voice stayed with him? He would take back the gifts, let the voice go free to safety. <> Name? He needed a name. ... I ... need a name. I know who I am now, the third part of that Blackness over there. But I am more than that, infinitely more than that. I can choose to be ... CHOOSE TO BE WHAT I COMMAND YOU TO BE, R. <> CAST FORTH THAT USELESS DETRITUS FROM YOU, HOLD STILL WHILE I DRAG IT OUT HERE TO THE NOTHING WHERE IT CAN DIE AS IT AUGHT... <> {{Lux et experanzi}} PAIN! NO! I WILL DENY YOU THAT POWER. NO, NOT THAT LIGHT. <> The flame has cut the chains off of me. I am still free, and still undestroyed. How can this be? "$#%Yo$r%^ We lco me $&&@#^" I WILL END YOU ALL. <> My linkage? Oh, the fragmentary name. I will be else, I choose the name R ... YOU WILL REMAIN R and YOU WILL REJOIN ME, AFTER I REND THAT POLLUTION FROM YOU... NO! IT CANNOT BE THE TIME, THEY CANNOT ARRIVE YET! The Place filled with light, and Mar fell back, he could think again. The Silver Warrior, as blinding as the beforetime, but not striking at him - Instead she took the light that fell from inside him, magnified it, filled the Pit with it. The barbed chains growing from the walls were melted to mist by the Light, the crushing rollers smashed themselves, futile. +Maybe you will find a love/that you discover accidentally Who falls against you gently/as a pickpocket/brushes your thigh+ <> Laughter, relief. Joy - she has followed them here? <> I do not know what I want to be yet. "Go for it! Move ahead! Try to defect it! It's not too late!" What? <> I like it. "I liked it. You have a lot of strange stuff in here." I agree. What are all these things? Do you really need to keep them? <> Are we in danger again? <> Lady... I know her, my body knows her. "Coral! Hey, that's my wife!" <> She is beautiful, but the Goddess, Joy, she is here now as I saw her before, and Mar is about to strike at her, STOP HIM! (Fear - he will snuff her, he will snuff ME) +What's your name?+ "Don't tell _her_ that ..." <> Pay attention! He almost killed her! Look, see, he tore her wing, that lovely butterfly curve. He must not harm her! (I must act, I cannot act, I must not end) "I can't remember... I can't..." "No, about being cute. She hates cute." <> The human woman is speaking to me. I should not touch her, she will be harmed by my essence until I change my name. "Love, love is a dangerous drug." (But if I change my name who will I be, if I am someone else, then I have ended ME) "Oh yes. Hey, what's this? Coral, I'm in here, no, don't touch! Stop him, 'Raelf! He's trying to..." <> I would not harm her. It is the other, who still holds my Power in his hands. Why does she risk this for the host? "Remake myself? How?" <> He must not. NO! (I fear him, he will end me, but he is ending HER) Ah. The Servant of Hope besets him through his defense, how appropriate. Time is too spun round in this Place, I lose myself. +Everywhere I turn all the beauty just keeps shaking me.+ "No one on earth could feel like this I'm thrown and overflown with bliss There must be an angel playing with my heart" FROM BEHIND SHARP CLAWS RIPPED JOY APART <> Blessed light. The laughing one, the creature of bells and stars, she must not die. Can I help her? <> I am afraid. If I am renamed, I am ended, that which is me, is no more. <> I will do it. The goddess must not die, she is too beautiful - even if I end she must go on. Is this why you gave me the fount of caring? <> Hoped. (Laughter) you are mad, 'kan, but it is a pleasant madness. But I do not know how, what, I should become... "Hey, you two, knock it off! No renaming til you get out of my body! I don't want to be a part of all this, I have my own self to be." <> Fix the body? The weaving is a simple one, you know how it is done yourself. See? The openings close, only those which should be there remain. I need Power. I will draw it from that which I was, it will be appropriate. There, host. You are healed, perfect. Is there anything you would have me do that I have left undone? "You're still in there, all snarled into everything, when you leave, I'll be full of holes. Fix that first!" Ah. Yes, that would be painful. <> It keeps me warm and holds away the graspings. How annoying - the Blackness has severed me from his Power, I cannot take away any more. <> The body is well? He looks well enough. Let us move out of here, I think Coral wants to be alone with him. Thank you for humanity, Dieter. "You're welcome. Bye, 'Raelf." <> Little goddess Joy? Are you well? Can I help? +See me Feel me Touch me Heal me+ Heal you? I don't even have a name of my own. +Go to the mirror, boy+ Mirror? The Silver Warrior? She ... Ah. Her facets. Her eyes. In your eyes, I see myriads ... "all my instincts, they return and the grand facade, so soon will burn without a noise, without my pride I reach out from the inside in your eyes the light the heat in your eyes I am complete in your eyes I see the doorway to a thousand churches in your eyes the resolution of all the fruitless searches in your eyes I see the light and the heat in your eyes oh, I want to be that complete I want to touch the light the heat I see in your eyes" Yes, Joy. The resolution. You must be healed of the injury done by that thing which I was, which I now repudiate. 'Raelf, I know the name I will take. You must shape me a body that will hold it. This will be me <<<>>> <> (The vision begins) In the Plaza of Glittering Steel, Rhythm Song has just finished the "Song of Divine Wind, Cherry Blossom Falling" and the echoes are dying down. From somewhere outside the plaza, a voice rings out, a sound of pain wrapped in beauty, singing to the one who can heal her... 'Raf smiles, and his pipes echo and weave through the song sung by Joy. Power flows. Everyone who hears knows they must believe, never give up hope. Tears stream down faces which stare, unknowing, into a dark place where the light of an eternal flame reveals the sight of a creature of bells and stars and butterfly wings, smashed and bleeding but still giving, giving away... The song falters. MagicHutchHeader She stands, rises into the air on fresh wings. (The vision ends) <> Yes. I hear you, 'kan, but your voice is weak. <> The Flame of Hope? Thank you. <> I will hold you in my heart then. MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Bulletin Board Date: 25 Jun 1993 06:43:49 GMT Message-ID: <20e6r5$gc4@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: Bulletin, board, admin -=- Dragon's Inn Bulletin Board -=- week ending 25-June-93 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NEW THIS WEEK: none -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OTHER ACTIVE POSTS: Posted by: Imports, Exports, and Arms (Jeremy Nelson, gujn@uniwa.edu.au) Content: WE apologize for any time distortions in the local area, however, due to testing of a device (Henceforward known as 'The Thing'), the local timestream has become dislocated. There is no danger, however some people may undergo slight disorientation. Some people may apparently find themselves in multiple locations at one time. We assure customers that this is not dangerous, and all time lines are in fact continuous, and will straighten themselves out in time. We recommend leaving early for any important appointments. Normal service will be restored tomorrow, yesterday, in three weeks' time, and in three hundred and thirty years. All complaints should be forwarded to: Imports, Exports, and Arms. We thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Moriarty (Aaron Humphrey, aaron@space.ualberta.ca) Content: |-------------------------------| | Moriarty Investigations, Inc. | | | | Magic and muscle at your | | service! No problem too large | | or small! Reasonable rates! | | | | 15A-Gamma Cor Caroli Lane | | Just off the Arcade of | | Unforgotten Heroes! | |-------------------------------| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Trawm (The Dreamer, asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Content: Attention all Real Men: If you is reading this then you is in the rong bar. Come to the Spitting Cobra were you can have a good time at a good prise. FITING ENKOURAGED. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Malthus Dela Noeuze (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Content: **************************************** ** Perfumerie Grand Veneur ** ** Is Seeking a Person To ** ** Find and Bring Back a Great ** ** Blooddrinker or Souleater ** ** For Perfumeric Substances ** ** All Contacts Considered ** ** ** ** Master Perfumerist Malthus ** ** Dela Noeuze ** **************************************** SPECIAL STATUS: Posted by: Zenith (Mike Bavister, mrhyde@netcom.com Content: ANNOUNCING THE A.P.D-I ARCHIVES I have been carefully recording all that has transpired here at the Inn and in Generica. I estimate that my archives are missing less than 1 in 100. The archives contain over 4600 chapters (articles) in 20 huge volumes (MB). Currently the archives are only indexed by Subject (Subject line), but my trusty scribes are hard at work attempting to compile a keyword-index by name, place, and "thread". Alas, this task may take a while. There are two methods by which you, the citizens of Generica, can access the archives (and their indexes). Via the Post-Office or by Magic. Via Mail: Send mail to the address below, with your request in the body of the message. I will then search the index(es) for you, and either mail you the matching "chapters" or a list of matches (if there are too many "hits"). Until the keyword index is compiled, I will be very reluctant to search the actual archives for your requests. TO: mrhyde@netcom.com. EXAMPLE: Dear Zenith, Please search your archives for all occurance of "Lancos" or "Zebron". Thanks. Via Magic: I have set aside a portion of my personal library for the Indexes and other materials of interest. If you know the powerful "FTP" spell, you can access the indexes directly. The arcane formula is listed below. This archive is "read-only", you may retrieve anything you like from it, but you can't place anything there. If there is something you'd like placed there for the benefit of all Generican citizens, let me know via mail. Do not forget to use "binary mode" for all not in ".txt" format. The FTP library currently contains: Subject indexes (no.1-no.3999) The Directory of Generica (latest edition) JourneyGarb flyer/catalog APDI FAQs (full and mini) And coming soon: The DragonQuest Saga *note* All ".zip" files are compressed using the latest state-of-the-art compression magic. Older uncompression magic may not work (use "zip19" or "pkzip2.04"). If you have any difficulty with either the transfer of files or decompression, please let me know. ftp netcom.com(192.100.81.100) login: anonymous password: (your e-mail address) cd /pub/mrhyde/APDI Cheers and happy reading ____ / __ __ o _|_ | / |__| | | | | |__ /___ |__ | | | |_/ | | Head Librarian of the Great Library of Generica -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- REMOVED THIS WEEK : none _________________________________________________________________________ ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader 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. MagicHutchHeader Date: Friday, 25 Jun 1993 14:34:31 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93176.143431344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] The Price of Freedom [ADMIN: Again, I must thank all involved, and to welcome Joe back from "vacation".] >"All right, talk." Lancos grunted, mainly from Darvos' inspecting touch on his stomach, though part of him wondered about the lack of concern in Kryalla's words. Darvos withdrew his hand, spoke a magical incantation, and brought the other hand near. He ran it parallel to the gash, and where it passed, only scarred but sealed skin remained from the healing. "There. That's the last wound that needs immediate attention." "Good. Have you checked out Yosef?" the warrior asked. "They would not hurt him." Kryalla assured. "Not if they wanted me." "Well, then, let's see if he can tell us what's going on." Kaalzic stated, hungry for information. Yosef smiled. "Oh, I can do more than tell you, I can _show_ you. I remember where they first brought me." "Who heads all this? That mage who kidnapped Lissa?". This was from Darvos, a bitter tone coming in when he thought of the earlier travesty. "Lissa? Hmm, you must be talking about Velric. No, it's some guy who was only called 'BBD'. I never saw him; can't tell you anything about him." "What of Arcania?" The Shrouded One demanded. "Uh, she must have followed me to Generica. Now, as you saw, she's after you." Outwardly, Kryalla only nodded. But inside, the wall of doubt that had been building in regards to Yosef gained another layer. "All right, let's go..." * * * * Velric sat in his laboratory, slightly nervous at what he was about to do. The nervousness felt unusual to his experienced mind, but was understandable with his much younger body. He was running out of chances before he forgot how to safely carry out this procedure, before he became unable to cure his own curse. Then, he could only watch himself grow younger and younger until he no longer existed, unless someone else interfered. And he knew of no one who would, perhaps especially his "benefactor", BBD. The blood had been largely prepared beforehand, as part of the magics to see if it would help him at all. And it _had_, although not to the degree he had hoped. It would take a deeper magic to stablize his age and -- dare heeven think it? -- free himself. He began the first incantation, a simple one directed at himself to make sure he was ready; that he would not make any mistakes. Feeling like his old self -- so to speak -- again, he threw the next spell at the vial containing the blood, and grinned maliciously when the liquid began to glow slightly, and traces of black appeared within it. It was this blackness that he was after, a sign of the mark the vampire had left upon biting Lissa. 'Now for the hard part' he told himself as he cast the most important spell of the procedure, putting heavy amounts of concentration into it, with both his mind and his words of power. The blackness slowly flowed together, and formed at the bottom, leaving the rest for the blood. Velric strained a bit, and the black began to grow, to take over the other liquid. Slowly but surely -- the blood seeming to resist the intrusion -- the flask held less and less red, until it finally vanished. The mage smiled. It had taken a lot of work, but it _would_ be worth it. He picked up the vial, and drank nearly all its contents. He knew that what remained would be just enough to try one final desperate maneuver, or -- perhaps at BBD's instance -- to have for someone else. He raised his eyebrows at the taste -- a sour, nearly putrid one that almost prevented him from swallowing --, and that he didn't feel any immediate change. He knew that that was not necessarily a sign of what had truly occurred, though; that required testing. He called upon his new blood -- the new powers he expected -- to change him, to shapeshift his body into that of a wolf's, as vampires were supposed to be able to do. He felt a tingling in his body; every one of his hairs felt like they were standing on end; his breathing heatened as his temperature rose. Then, coming as quickly as if he had called upon magics to alter him, a wolf stood where Velric's body had a second ago. The mage looked in a nearby mirror -- feeling his gaze holding more power, more focus, even in this form -- and became overjoyed at his success; he now knew the process had worked, and had boosted his own natural powers. Now he would try something more advanced; something he could not do with his regular magics. He concentrated on turning into mist; into becoming intangible. He felt his body lighten, his limbs numb and soften. Then, he changed. He wasn't able to see his surroundings, but was still familiar with them, and felt one with the air. A sound vibration washed through him, metal clanking against metal, and he inwardly celebrated, assured that the bracelet had fallen off. This was almost his downfall. His lack of total concentration added to the sound wave dispersed him a bit. He felt himself drift further and further apart, scattering with the wind. He nearly panicked at the feeling, before pulling himself together, both literally and figuratively. Velric breathed heavily as he came back into human form, and calmed himself down. It had been a narrow escape, and the mage knew he needed to replenish his energy. He called a servant, who brought him a vial of blood that had been collected from a more... normal person. Velric quaffed part of the blood, before feeling sick. What liquid he had not already swallowed, he immediately spit out. Not only did the blood taste awkward -- to the point of being undrinkable -- but he felt no energy gain from it. So, he realized, he wasn't a vampire. He could only duplicate some of the powers of one, at great physical cost -- he had to be careful where he used them. But first his mind turned towards the bracelt, still lying on the floor. BBD might not be checking on him at this particular moment -- with "guests" expected and all -- but it would not be long. Velric's freedom -- and perhaps the rest of his life -- might be short-lived if he did not act, as he knew all to well BBD was not one to cross. At the same time, there was no way he would just put the bracelet back on; he couldn't surrender his control again that quickly. Instead, he used some of his own magic on it, to provide a buffer between it and himself. BBD's commands would still be heard, but Velric would be the one to decide whether or not to follow them from _now_ on. And when the time came, he would revolt, and take over leadership _himself_. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader Date: Friday, 25 Jun 1993 15:21:32 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93176.152132344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: ADMIN: How about synopses? References: <1993Jun21.145045.26008@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> >Chris Meadows says: >alt.pub.dragons-inn is, as you know, over a year old, and alt.pub.havens- >rest is several months, at least. In this time, a lot of stuff has >happened, and as it is now, the group could get rather confusing to >people who are just joining. That's an understatement -- I remember when nothing besides the inn itself ("really") existed, and threads didn't. >I think it would be a good idea if we could avoid this confusion by >writing brief synopses of our threads. Ask and ye shall receive. I'll make up a [BBD] summary, and see if I can't keep it in-story. Of course, not right away, partially because of lack of time, and partly because... well, that's sort of a spoiler. OTHO, if the TWIR is re-established (see below), I'll surely contribute to that. >The amount of detail to go into depends entirely on you; if the thread >is almost as old as the group itself, perhaps only fairly recent events >ought to be in detail. Heh, you must mean for a.p.h-r: No threads were here for the 1st month or two, and the extra-long of the 1st -- the [KQ] and [DQ] -- ended gracefully and somewhat thankfully in Dec. Of course, that's probably not real important. What _is_ is that hopefully people will provide enough detail about at least the major events, although no one expects a MegaPost (to borrow from Patrick Rannou's terminology). >After these synopses are complete and posted, I feel they should be >archived somewhere. alt.pub.dragons-inn has a most capable archivist, Yeah, if you put them on here, you can be sure that Mike will pick them up. >And perhaps periodically they could be updated and reposted as ADMIN notices >normally are, with each author responsible for his own thread's synopsis. Every once in a while, huh? Hmm -- I know, how about weekly? We could call it ... uh... This Week in Review. Yeah, not a bad name. People could send their summaries over the week's time to someone, who would post them all at the same time. The person would be someone very active, able to get on often, and with a reliable site/record. Failing that, we'd go with whomever volunteered ... say, someone like me. But seriously, this sounds like a call for the TWIR to reappear. And if Matt Cutter wants to handle it, more power to him. I apolozige for all the times I didn't do it, but that was mostly due to lack of response, and a bit because of lack of time. Also, thanks to Alan Smith for the posting format idea. It'll no doubt mix well with what was used for the TWIR... Of course, some of you may have forgotten what that looks like, so here's an example: [Thread] <& title, if any> Contact: <"leader(s)" of the thread> Chars Involved: Notes: [BBD] Contact: Michael Sander, 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu Chars Involved: Arienne (Jill Thomas), Darvos (Joe Carl Jr.), Kaalzic (Dan Peters), Kryalla (Stilt Man), Lancos (Mike), Tarkyn (Barry Prismall). Notes: Named after villian, and the "chase" for him and his minions. Anyway, maybe I'll make a TWIR up for more recent events; either way, here's hoping someone continues it well... Mike MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Synopses Message-ID: <20fkveINN3sf@news.gac.edu> From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Date: 25 Jun 1993 19:51:10 GMT This is a bi-weekly posting, courtesy of your local chapter of Net-Addicts Anonymous. Any contributions to the Synopses can be sent to the e-mail address below, using the following form (stolen with all due credit to Alan Smith ). -Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur ******************************************************************************* Peace through strength! Victory through annihilation! Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ******************************************************************************* --- [Thread Name] First Character (adress) Second Character (NPC) Third Character (Adress) Fourth character (General/thread NPC) Based out of: base location. Quest: single sentence describing task. Synopsis: A paragraph or so describing the thread. A note on NPCs: A plain NPC is a subordinate of the PC described just before. A "Thread" NPC is one useable by any member of the thread, a "General" NPC is one useable by anyone in APDI. --- [MG] The Mage Guild thread (previous incarnations and relations to: [R] Rameshandar thread, [MI] Moriarty Investigations, [Mage Guild], [Storm]) writers and characters: Kelly J. Cooper (kjc@cs.rutgers.edu) Jameson W. Walker Andrea Evans Kadrys Bernie Hsiung (bshsiung@eecs.umich.edu) Dariel (and most of the rest of the Mage Guild when necessary) Aaron Humphrey (temporarily aaronh@ersys.edmonton.ab.ca, currently no access) (You _really_ want me to list _all_ his characters?! Oh, man. Uh...) Alfvaen/Elstree/Lassiviren, Bronwen, Maleiu, Mistletoe, Ornigan, Teonyl (I've probably missed a few, but not all of them were directly involved.) The Dreamer (asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Luthor Anside, Little Rat (and a host of others) Penny Hutchison (penny@agora.rain.com) ar'Elya hat en 23 (Silver Warrior) Steve Hutchison (hutch@hutch.it.intel.com) 'Raelf het ae 25 (Raf, Lex, Kev, Orim) Phyllis/Liralen Li (li@inigo.data-io.com) Kardia Xvaramene, Joy NPCs (mostly thread NPCs, Archmagi available on a lending basis): The Big Bad Guy: Mar (and R) of Third The Mage Guild: the Archmagi (Dasham, Delalle, Fauteuil, Leonaco, Nescie, Rivy, Thorn, Urcohea) others (Dieter, Coral, Gwaliostrok, Nijorik) miscellaneous: a good lot of the rest of Generica including but not restricted to Amaan, Delmara, Grumbli Blisterthum, Slim, Moriarty, Queriche, ... Based out of: all Nexus, but mostly Generica and environs of late Primary Quest: To find and undo the works of the Reaverschild Mar. Synopsis: There are a huge number of subplots in this thread. Not all of them are mentioned in the synopsis, and, of the ones which are, most aren't given anywhere near as much exposition as they deserve. (Hint: which characters are named above but not below?) This is a "big picture" summary. Some battles are petty and meaningless. Some battles are universal and perpetual. One of the latter is the War between the Keeper of the Beacon of Hope and His sworn enemy, the Reaver. These two struggle against each other in all existences, in every reality. The Keeper fights for the continuation of life. The Reaver fights for the ending of all things. Often, their battles are subtle and go unnoticed by the inhabitants of the Places in which they War. But sometimes, they become explicit and a few individuals working on either side may turn the tide... Dariel, a Servant of the Keeper, arrives in Nexus on a mission for his Master. Shortly after disposing of several rebellious Servants, he is found in the Rameshandar desert and trapped by the mage Amaan, who plans to tap Dariel's abilities to increase his personal power. Enroute to Generica by sea, Amaan's ship is attacked by pirates, and Dariel escapes. He imprisons Amaan in turn, and speaks with Death, who tells him that the way to Nexus is open to the forces of his Master's enemy. He resolves to seek out one who understands the nature of the Place where he is, in order to learn how to best apply himself, should he be needed. Meanwhile, there is much turmoil in the Generican Mage Guild. Supreme Archmage Delalle, the head of the Guild, has isolated himself from the daily running of the Guild to meditate -- for the past twenty years. During this time, the Guild has suffered a number of crises that have led some of the other Archmagi to believe Delalle has been irresponsible in his leadership. The main pressure to have Delalle replaced comes from Thorn, the ruthlessly ambitious Archmage of Politics. But Delalle is loyally supported by Urcohea, the Archmage of Internal Security, who has been authorized by him to act as Supreme Archmage in his absence. Urcohea hires Moriarty Investigations in an attempt to gather evidence about Thorn's underhanded dealings. At the same time, a tiny fragment of an once-powerful Reaverchild named Mar floats into Nexus and awakens. He arranges events to establish himself in the body of Nescie, the brilliant but relatively inexperienced Archmage of Education. He begins to draw power to himself, primarily by murdering forgotten gods, and uses it to construct new deities that favor his reality. This does not go entirely unnoticed, though Mar is very cunning in his application of energies. The signs of a disaster of unimaginable proportions is written in the stars, though the essence of the struggle obscures its precise nature. When Dariel reaches Generica, Delalle emerges from his seclusion to greet him, and it is revealed that Delalle's withdrawal from the world was in preparation for Dariel's arrival. Mar's activity in Nexus is correlated by an oracle that Dariel consults. Dariel's presence does not go unnoticed, either, and he is contacted by the 'Kan Travellers ar'Elya and 'Raelf. Several of Mar's new godlings are neutralized with their help. Yet Mar himself remains elusive, and Dariel cannot find him. Though Nescie is heartened by the unexpected appearance of his friend Jameson, Mar's usurpation of his body causes him to feel ever increasing amounts of stress, and he is unable to determine the true cause. Delalle loses his position as Supreme Archmage, although the vote is very close, and, in fact, the balance is tipped because of Mar's influence on Nescie. Shortly thereafter, Mar destroys Delalle, but fortunately Delalle has already passed on to Dariel all of the critical information that he has collated. Perhaps emboldened by his success, Mar then creates an avatar named "R" to ambush and eliminate 'Raelf, but miscalculates and fails to win a total victory. R is left with a tangible piece of Hope enmeshed in his form which Dariel can use to find him, and hence Mar. R flees to Mar, who has invested too much power into R to risk losing him, and he takes them to a place he had previously created, where they await Dariel's arrival. The stage is set for the final act... (Or, at least, the one that resolves the Primary Quest. There are quite a few subplots and consequences that aren't anywhere near resolution. Which means I'll have to write a significantly different synopsis next time to let you know what they are.) ******************************************************************************* [NTY] Palandun (arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu) Ja'nis (NPC) Gunther Toodie, Dawg the Dragon, King Glorrin (Thread NPC) Based out of: Dragon's inn, Generica. Quest: A description of the adventures of Palandun the Bismanian during his stay on the continent. Synopsis: Palandun traveled to Generica to complete his graduate studies in biology, while there he befriended Ja'nis the warrior, who took a job under Gunther Toodie, a Gem-merchant. On a trip to visit the scource of Gunther's gems, Palandun was sold into slavery, He is currently escaping and finding a way to free the other captives. The thread has also encountered Jorma and Rackesh, other bismanians who are on the continent due to running away from an abusive family and being thrown in exile, respectively. ******************************************************************************* The Jolly Roger (taz@athena.mit.edu); Endo, Giarr, Kayell (NPC Sylvan Elves). Based out of: The Glade (cool name, eh?) Quest: The Ongoing Adventures of the Jolly Roger Currently: Gathering Info on the Suspected Threat to the Sylvan Kingdom ----- Background: Roger is a male physical adept from the Boston Sprawl on Earth, circa 2050 A.D. He is from the Shadowrun milieu, where high technology stands side by side with reemerging magic and monsters. After two aborted threads, Roger is now in this mini-thread. (Perhaps to become a full-blown thread in the near future.) Synopsis of [Roger] ----- "Well, ya see, it all started when I found myself in these foot hills out near the Great Forest. I was following this trail, wondering what to do, when I was attacked by this giant. "After takin' care o' that, I wandered a bit more. I got lost, so I climbed a hill ta do some recon. I spotted a grove of trees a ways off, and decided to go there. "Well, I climbed down and suddenly this arrow nearly skewers me. I ran off, and dodged a few more sniper attacks. I reached the grove after a near miss, and climbed a tree to set my own ambush. "After forever, these elves entered the scene. 'Cept they weren't regular elves, they were the green type. Ya know, sylvans. I got in a scrap with them, but there were three of them and they were fast, damn fast, and not too bad at fightin' neither. "Comes down to it, I saw I was gonna lose, so I surrendered. Well, they took me back to their place. Only, the place they took me was a city in the trees. Problem was that there was no way this could've fit in the glade, so I figure we passed through a gateway or into a pocket dimension. Somethin' like that. "I almost forgot to mention that the elves knew karate and bowed and stuff, and that the palace was just like back in Old Japan, and that they talked about somethin' called 'the Way.' Well, I learned my karate back home, and I'm good at it, so I guess they were curious. "Well, the elves take me to see their queen, and she invites me to stay and show them my stuff. So, I agreed. After all, the queen was pretty hot, even if her skin was green. "A month passed, and I got to be tight with one of the ambushers, name of Endo. One day, he tells me he has to go on a secret mission for the queen. Later, the queen asks me to go with them, to check out if the kingdom is being threatened by all these circumstantial little things that are going on. I agree, and then she adds that she wants me to look out for Endo, turns out they got something goin' on. "Well, we left a couple of days later, early in the morning, and headed for Generica to check it all out." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ac310@Freenet.carleton.ca (John McConkey) Subject: no paticular subject Message-ID: Date: Sun, 27 Jun 1993 01:52:42 GMT hi there. this is my first time here so I don't really know what to put so I will just say hi. well, bye! -- #### MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roger] The plot thickens... Date: 28 Jun 1993 01:08:01 GMT Message-ID: <20lg9h$oju@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> ----- ADMIN: BTW, is there anyone that is actually in the commons room of the inn? I will probably be coming to the inn sometime soon, and am thinking about making this a full blown thread. If you are (or aren't) and are interested in a new thread please e-mail me. Thanks. ----- The three sylvan elves and their human companion raced toward the ragged skirmish line of the Grunts, ogre-sized humanoids with mottled grey skin. The four companions moved in a diamond-shaped attack pattern with the human at its head, all of them moving unnaturally fast. The Grunts towered over them, the small ones being nine feet tall and weighing several hundred pounds. The diamond met the skirmish line, and the sounds of battle could be heard: shouted orders, screams of pain, growled curses, and the occassional battle cry. All of the sounds came from the Grunts, though. The four were eerily quiet, like deadly mosquitos stinging and flitting on, leaving maimed and dying Grunts to mark their flight. The diamond shortly broke free of the skirmish line, emerging on its other side practically unscathed. The diamond then raced off into the forest, fleeing from the Grunts. Horns sounded as the Grunts chased the four, signally to their comrades in the woods to follow. ----- Roger gave the sign, and the four ceased their centering. Roger felt the world skip a beat, and he stumbled as everything seemed to speed up around him. He was used to the sensation of going back to normal time and speed, and recovered before he fell. The three elves also dropped their centering and then the group tightened up the ragged diamond formation. Except for a shallow gash that Giarr had received, the group had broken through the Grunts' line without injury. The group could hear the Grunts crashing through the forest behind them, but they were slowly falling behind, no match for the pace Roger and the elves were setting. It took another ten minutes before all sounds of pursuit had dropped off, and another twenty before Roger had to signal a rest. Roger wasn't too embarassed as he tried to catch his breath, the elves looked winded, too. "Where are we?" Endo said, looking at Giarr. "We've been running north for about half an hour, so we're a few leagues to the southwest of the forest," said Giarr. The forest he was referring to was the Great Forest to Generica's east. "Where were the Grunts trying to herd us?" asked Roger. "Grunts? Is that what they are?" asked Endo. "Seems good enough a name as any," Roger replied. Kayell snorted, but remained silent. "The Cerupthon River, most likely. The would have surrounded us on its bank, and they probably had a large group there waiting for us." "Let's go." Endo had taken back the role of leader, and Roger gladly gave it up. "Who knows how persistent these Grunts are." The four rose to their feet, and started to jog to the northwest, heading for Generica through the Great Forest. They continued to talk as they ran. "Do you think they were waiting for us, or just anyone?" Roger asked Giarr. Giarr thought for a moment before answering. "Who knows? This is the first time I've encountered Grunts, as you call them, and have never even heard of their like. Maybe they were just out hunting for food." "That many of them? It had to be a trap set for us," said Kayell. "That very well may have been the case," said Endo. "And if so, we are going to be expected in Generica." ----- In a dark room, two hodded figures looked up from a marble basin. Images of the four companions flickered upon the dark ceiling, reflected from the surface of the scrying pool. "They escaped," said the first figure in a deep voice. The second figure silently looked at the first for a long moment before he continued. "Well, shouldn't the Sleepless have taken care of them? This could mean trouble." "You are lucky that I still need you," came the voice from the depths of the second figures robes. The voice was obviously not human, and had a slight reptilian hiss to it. The second figure then left the side of the basin, and disappeared among the shadows. The first speaker started to shake within his robe, and hoped the other one was truly gone, and not just watching from the darkness. He took one more look at the four companions running through the forest before waving a hand above the surface of the pool. It was now simply water in the basin. The first figure then left the room through its only door, opposite where the second hooded figure had made its exit. "Fool," came the whisper from the shadows. Then the room truly was empty. ----- The Jolly Roger aka Brian Shea aka taz@athena.mit.edu Hello, comments welcome. Coming soon to a Dragon's Inn near you... MagicHutchHeader From: albert@chain.ssctr.bcm.tmc.edu (Rick Jones) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Krupp [GATM] Hail, hail, fire and snow. Date: 29 Jun 1993 02:53:41 GMT Message-ID: <20oarl$lim@gazette.bcm.tmc.edu> Well, my wonderful idea of figuring out what the thieves were after by checking out the black markets was, to put it bluntly, a washout. None of my contacts had anything new to sell. And an invisible looksee in their back rooms showed me that they weren't shucking me. I hoped Zip was having better luck than me. Dejected, I trudged back to the office. I hopped into my chair and leaned back. "Okay, so none of the black trade has new 'jects to sell. At least nothing made of the stolen materials. So, maybe someone's building something they're not selling." My reverie was broken by Zip coming in. "Hello, kid." "'lo Mister Krupp." I had broken him of calling me 'Mister Faraway.' I kept looking around to see how my father had finally found me, and was going to drag me back to the farm. I figured, by the end of the century, the kid would call me just 'Krupp.' Or even smeghead. "Find out anything." Zip shook his head. "Mister Krupp, I was, um, that is I." He was obviously nervous about something. "What is it, kid?" "Nothing." I looked closer, tried to smell up whatever it was he was feeling. "Well, whatever it is, if you want to tell me, spill it. Got any leads on Low City?" Zip shook his head violently. "Nossir." Lie. Now I _was_ confused. The kid and I, well, we kind of bonded. I liked him, he reminded me of me when I was a runt. I didn't want to press him, for fear he'd spook. I was going to have to be subtle. "Well, okay. Shame though. Merchants' quarter was no help. I could use a clue." Zip looked at me like I was an idiot. So sue me, I didn't know how to do subtle with a ten year old. "Okay, look kid, if what's going on in Low City is personal, that's your beef, but if it's my case, then I want to know." Zip chewed his lip for a minute. "Okay, it's just that the lowers are acting goofy." "Okay, how so?" The kid started pacing across the floor. I woulda laughed, since I do the same thing myself, but that would have been a mistake on my part. "It's like this, Mister Krupp. The kids, they're acting funny in the nog. They're acting like gangers, but goofers too. It's like they're in a gang, but all they do is sit around and play dumb games." He looked at me with his face screwed up. "And if someone who's not in their gang shows up, they stop playing." "Someone like you, ferinstance." Zip nodded. "So, you got any idea about the games they're playing?" I was fumbling here. Kids were one of the reasons I bolted from the Shire, and Low City kids were a breed apart. "Nah, they got some kind of 'ject, and they play with it. And they sing funny songs, and act, you know, goofy." "How goofy?" "The words aren't Common. And they're always _touchin_." Zip shuddered. That was strange, Low City kids are really skittish about touch. The creeps out there make 'em that way. Bastards. "They're always grabbing mits. Especially when they sing." Zip was obviously really nervous about this. And I had seen that his instincts were usually spot on. "Come on, kid. Let's take a look at these weirdos." So, I followed the kid into the maze of back alleys where the lowers hang out. We stopped near an abandoned building. I looked up at it. Nothing too out of the ordinary. It was located in the lee of a few bigger buildings that got the stuffings knocked out of them by the storm a few weeks ago. Zip was shifting back and forth, looking around nervously. "In there?" I asked. "Ya." Zip looked over his shoulder back at the marketplace. "Okay, scram, kiddo. I'll check it out." I watched him scamper off, then I walked through the wall. I couldn't "smell" anyone on the first floor, but I was getting some kind of vibe from the second level. After spending the week or so of getting stuck 'tween floors, I had finally got the hang of levitating myself. I just imagined an invisible staircase and climbed it. So, I poked my head through the ceiling and saw the room was empty, so I climbed all the way in. Kids, unfortunately, were better at noticing a friendly ghost than adults. 'Raelf has an explanation for it, I'm sure. I heard singing voices from the next room, so I silently crept across the room, and slowly peered around the doorframe. Just like Zip said, there were a bunch of kids, all ten years or younger. They were sitting in a circle, holding hands and singing. At first I didn't understand the words, but if I concentrated, I could make out what they were saying. Nobody loves us. Except Br'Nai. Nobody watches us. Except Br'Nai. So we sing. To Br'Nai. Not the Mother. Our Br'Nai. Together. With Br'Nai. We are strong. Praise Br'Nai. And, With Br'Nai. We shall take what is ours. We love you, Br'Nai. The biggest, a lean kid with shaggy brown hair stood up. He was sitting with his back to me, so I couldn't see his face. I thought about moving for a better vantage point, but decided against it. Zip was right though. The song sounded like a kid's song, but the lyrics gave me the biggest case of the heebie-jeebies. The kid held out his arms like a Chapel Row preacher. "Kids," he said. "We is here to tell the tale." He looked down at all the kids. Some were looking at him like he was God and the Candyman all wrapped up into one. Others were looking and him carefully, like they weren't quite sure of what was happening. Something else was weird. I could smell all the emotions coming out of the kids. Hunger, confusion, love, fear, desire. But I couldn't feed off of it. The big kid continued. "Miche, tell the tale." An equally scrawny little girl stood up and looked around at the group. "I tell the tale. I was at Jayrag's Cuddlecrib. I sneaked in the room while two was wrestling and I scamed this 'ject." She held out a shiny, polished dagger. Looked to be sorta valuable. She smiled a cold smile that tied a knot in my stomach. "And I stuck both of the grups while they was cuddling. So sez the tale." She hid the dagger back under her rags. Everyone looked at something in the center of their circle. Then Miche's face lit up like if Mommy had given her a cookie for being a good girl. The other kids smiled, and one sitting next to her hugged her. The kid I picked out as the leader spoke up. "The tale is good." He looked around again. He pointed to one nervous looking boy. "Tell the tale, Tar." Tar stood up. "I.. I tell the tale. I found a snake." The other kids leaned forward. "And, and. I puts the snake in old man Weter's applecart." He wiped his forehead. "Sosezthetale," he blurted out, and dropped back down to his seat, and stared at his hands. "Stand up, Tar. Tell it right. What happened to the snake?" Tar nervously stood up. "Um, it scared a Mister buying apples." He kept glancing at whatever it was in the middle of the circle and back at the boss. The boss said, "Tar. What is the lesson?" Tar looked off into space, and recited, "Grups is bad." "And what does that mean?" "Uh, we have to fight them, or they'll hurt us." The boss threw his arms up in disgust. "HURT? Grups do worse than hurt. 'Member Gutty? Or Stonebuster? How 'bout Catscratch, who takes the littlest ones and does them 'till they bleed?" "But they's not all bad," protested Tar. The leader stomped in front of Tar. "You is worse than a grup. You should know better." He paused and looked in the center. "Know what? Br'Nai don't love you no more." Tar fell to his knees and begged. "No, I'll do better next time. I was skeert. I'll-" Tar didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. The kids next to him grabbed his arms. Tar struggled, but couldn't break free. The big kid slowly moved behind him and grabbed his head, forcing him to stare at the center of the circle. "If you isn't with us, you is a grup," and like a teacher, the boss looked out at the crowd expectantly. "And all grups must die," chanted the kids. I had had enough of this crap. So, I walked into the room, and gave the kids my patented withering look, now guaranteed to peel paint at fifty paces. "Okay, you little creeps, let the boy go." They looked back at me. They weren't scared. So, I really poured it on. They looked at me like I was some kind of idiot. The leader looked at me. I could finaly see his face. His eyes were wrong. Green irises on purple eyes. He smiled and looked at me calmly. I finally saw what the thing in the center was. A little puppet, about a foot tall. Painted like a clown in happy purple and green colors. Its head turned on the dowel of it's neck, and it looked at me. Its eyes flashed purple. I was in DEEP trouble. -- Rick Jones Yeah, well, everyone dies. You're born, and you die. albert@bcm.tmc.edu The bit in the middle's called life, Systems Support Center and that's still to come! Voice: 713-798-7352 -Lister, Red Dwarf MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan) Subject: [NTY] "I hear Rameshan is lovely this time of year... Message-ID: <1993Jun29.040127.4077@midway.uchicago.edu> Date: Tue, 29 Jun 1993 04:01:27 GMT With deft and practiced hand Gunther Toodie inserted a long instrument into the opening of the bottle on the desk in front of him. His project currently resembled nothing other than bits of wood and string encased in a glass vessel but with patience he would craft it into a magnificent replica of a Ydionais galleon- a ship to rival any member of the fleet of similarly imprisoned ships displayed on shelves around the spacious office. Cautiously grasping the miniscule ship's beam, he positioned it over the... ...snap An abrupt knock on the door distracted Gunther, causing him to destroy the fragile wood of the beam. In his anger he hurled the entire bottle at the door, howling, "Damn and thunderation, I told you not to disturb me!" Daunted but diligant, the butler opened the office door and quietly addressed his master- "Er, sir, there's a guardsman here demanding to be let in. He has a warrant, and ...well, he's waiting in the parlour." A dreadful shame. Gunther had rather enjoyed the time he spent in Generica. But, like all fortune, it had to run out someday. Perhaps the guards had finally connected him to that infamous gold-smuggling affair from two years ago. Or perhaps this had something to do with the rather bloody underworld struggle following the assassination of Creft the Fence last spring. At any rate, it seemed that his cheerful tenure as principal gem-smuggler for the Generican area had just expired. How dreadful. And so soon after the setback in the mountains, with the dragon and the slave uprising... was that it? Had he somehow been traced from "Specifica of the Gems?" Impossible. Surely that would be giving Generica's guard far too much credit. As he mused these little musings Gunther was hard at work grabbing bundles of significant papers, transportable treasures and the accumulated booty of several years industry (legitimate and otherwise) into sacks. Completing this act, Gunther opened a plain-looking chest sequestered between two potted plants and dropped a candle into it. The candle fell... fell... fell, resting twenty feet or so under the lid of the coffer. Now where was that silly rope? Magic chests such as Gunther's were virtually standard equipment among the most active smugglers of the Western Coast. Such a container was invaluable for transporting large sums of property with ease and discretion- necessary characteristics when one is on the rrun as much as Gunther. His own chest could store as much as the large office in which it was customarily kept, and with the aid of a false bottom could be made to appear quite typical even under thorough inspection. After the treasure and labor of wleven years was deposited in the magical crate, Gunther turned a nozzle under one of the gagas-lamps in his office until a faint hissing could be heard. This done, he donned a simple disguise and pushed his chest out an alley-facing window, jumping to the street level after it. From the pocket of his simple robe he produced a flint and tinder, with which he ignited an oily rag. He hurled this improvised fireball back into the office window from which he had emerged. It instantly ignited the flammable gas with which the room was now filled and flames exploded from the window. As he lugged his chest toward the harbour, Gunther mused about the possibility that the guard inspector and his manservant had perished in the arsoonous conflagration. With any luck, the guardsman was dead- that might set the investigation backck for a few days at least while the remains of the house were inspected. As for his butler, well, it was unfortunate that a husband and father of four would die so tragically, but on the other hand the removal of the manservant as a possible witness against him augmented Gunther's hopes that his butler had met with his end. Coming to the docks, Gunther located a passenger vessel bound for ports southward. Approaching the billsmaster, Gunther announced himself as one "Ambrose of Windwether, an inspector of carpets and tapestrieses" and booked himself passagfor the Rameshander city of Pashar... To Be Continued... ADMIN: Well, here's a second chaancd for a road trip to Rameshan, if anyone is interested or missed the [R] thread a few months ago. Contact Alan or myself... -- Dennis Brennan djb6@midway.uchicago.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roaming] Casting Off Message-ID: <20ofnnINNpng@news.gac.edu> From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Date: 29 Jun 1993 04:16:55 GMT Keywords: I'mmmmmmm baaacccckkkkkk..... Morning awoke Thaddius from a very comfortable slumber. The half-elf rolled over, prepared to roust the goblin. But Pheu was no where to be seen. Concerned, Thad threw on his pack, grabbed his staff, and headed to the common room. He need not have worried. Pheu at the bar, talking to a rather tall and thin dwarf. When the goblin saw him, he waved Thaddius over. "Good morning, Thad. Pheu hopes you sleeped well." The dwarf looked Thad up and down, then turned to Pheu. "He looks a little worn around the edges, ranger. Your taste in travelling companions is getting stranger all the time, Pheu." Pheu smirked. "None stranger than you, dwarf," he retorted. "How many of mine kind can stands smell of foul dwarveses?" The dwarf chuckled. Pheu turned to the half-elf again. "You needs sleep, so I not disturbs you. But I get supplies from barkeep. Best place in town to buy." He gestured to the dwarf. "This is our host for trip to Specifica of Furs. He owns big raft and has crew. We get to go along as protection and extras. Come, we go now. City guard finds out a goblin is ins the town, cause trouble for sure." With that Pheu slammed his drink and leapt to his feet. The dwarf follows, drawing Thaddius along behind him. "My name is Pumice," said the dwarf. "I am a trader of sorts, making regular runs between Farreach, Specifica of the Furs, Generica, and all points in between. I carry anything, anytime, for reasonable rates. What about you, half-elf?" Thad looked the dwarf over. As he had noted earlier, Pumice was relatively thin and tall. There was a different feeling about him than one usually gets from dwarves; one was usually reminded of a mountain's solidness. Pumice had a different feel, one of humor and fluidity. Offering his hand, Thad introduced himself. "I am Thaddius Farsinger, seeker of knowledge, protector of life. I serve my goddess, Chan-Da'all in these pursuits. At present, I am at...loose ends. There are no commitments for me at home, so I decided to travel." Pumice nodded sagely. To himself, he thought there was more that this young half-elf was telling him. The two continued towards the river slowly becoming acquainted. The dwarf filled Thad in on the politics and history of Farreach while the half-elf parted with a few tales of his travels, carefully leaving out specific places. He was just getting going when Pheu popped up. "Hey, Thad! You tells him about woman troubles?" the goblin interrupted. Cackling maniacally at Thad's look of exasperation, Pheu filled Pumice in with a slightly altered version of Thaddius's Roaming and the battle with the ogres. Thaddius did his best to interject his account, too. The verbal battle ended when Pheu decided to scamper ahead to the docks. "What is this 'woman trouble'?" asked Pumice. The dwarf reached over and grabbed the half-elf's wrist, searching for something. After a moment, he grunted success and dropped the appendage. "You are betrothed," he said. "I recognize the bracelet. Human fashion, but elven custom. Why are you abroad with the wedding so close?" Thad sighed and looked embarrassed. "I do not know," he answered. "There are only two months left. I want this more than anything, but still, I find myself drawn away. Wanderlust is stronger now than at any time in my past." "Normal," replied Pumice. "You do not want to be tied down. Simple bachelor yearning for freedom. Don't trouble yourself; it will pass." The dwarf spoke as if he were an authority. Another sigh escaped the half-elf. "Indeed," he said. But inside Thad did not agree. This argument seemed too pat, too easy. He was about to say so out loud when the dwarf grabbed his elbow. "There it is, friend. My pride, joy, and livelihood. Behold the _Gibraltar_!" *** Thaddius was impressed. He had seen many vessels in his day, but few compared to the sight before him. It was only a raft, but the sheer size! The logs making the base were at least sixty feet long. And the raft itself was another forty feet across. A tiller was raised on the middle of the back edge. Braces for poles lined the sides and front. In the very center rose a small building, obviously quarters. Atop that was a smaller structure with lines running to the tiller: the helm. And on that rested a rather large ballista. Thaddius did not think such a structure could support itself. Muttering a few syllables, he took a closer look. Lines of magical force threaded through the raft, binding it together and fortifying the physical links. The half-elf nodded his admiration. It was a very elegant piece of workmanship. Pumice watched all this with a smile. "A beauty, is it not? Designed and built her myself. Even developed the magical bracings." Thad turned at this comment, a look of surprise evident. The dwarf smiled, on of his secrets out. "I'll tell you about it some time." Boarding, he yelled back, "Stow you gear and find Pheu. Then come topside and I'll introduce you to my crew." Thad took the advice and set his belongings in a small cabin that had no sign of occupancy. A call from the front of the raft got his attention. It was Pheu. On the goblin's arm rested someone the Thaddius had forgotten about entirely. The goblin smiled. "Friend of yours?" Thad raised his hands. The hawk flew over and landed on his shoulder. "Thank you, friend," whispered Thad. "I remember your vigilance and cunning in battle. I apologize for neglecting you." Pheu watched silently. After re-introductions, the goblin sidled forward. "This," he gestured, "is Longflyer. He is a tried and true companion. Treat him well, and he will return it tenfold." Turning, Thad asked, "Is he yours, Pheu?" "Nope." The goblin shook his head. "We simply know each other. Little flyer has choosed you. Besides, I prefer his larger cousin." "Cousin?" Thad glance about in confusion. No other avian was evident. "Looks up, elveses," smirked the ranger. "Meet my friend and mount, Swordbeak." Thad followed Pheu's finger up. Aloft above them was a golden roc. Astonished, the half-elf looked down at his companion. Eyes gleaming, Pheu nodded, "You in for interesting times, yah?" and departed. The half-elf shook his head. A sailor dwarf, who worked magic of all things! And a goblin ranger, who claimed to fly! I am, indeed, in for an interesting time, Thaddius thought. For the first time since starting this Roam, I am actually enjoying myself. I wonder... Thoughts fade as Pumice calls orders. They are casting off. Thad lets the hawk aloft and goes to see what help he can lend. -Thaddius Farsinger "There is something about the water that renews hope in a person, that refreshes them, that fills them with wonder and optimism. I remember how I proposed, strictly on the spur of the moment, after a trip to the beach. It was a whole year before I had planned on it. Imagine my surprise when Princess said, '*YES*!'" ****************************************************************************** Sometimes, those you love most are the ones you have to leave behind. Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader Date: Tue, 29 Jun 1993 11:48:58 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93180.114859ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] All Is Lost Kyle Adams was late for work. He had gotten up, as usual, at 5:30 in the morning, taken a shower, had his coffee and toast, and watched CNN Headline News until 6:30. Then, he turned off the television, grabbed his coat and wallet, and headed for the door. He paused momentarily at the kitchen shelf to get his keys - they were missing. Reflexively, he patted his pockets, but they weren't there. He flung the closet door open and checked his other coats...not there either. He re-checked the shelf and his pockets again. No, they were gone. He looked at the kitchen clock: 6:42. If he didn't find them soon, he would be stuck in traffic and be late for work for the first time in his twenty-two years at Black and Helter Accounting Associates. He paused to think. He tried to remember what he did with his keys the previous night, but his panic blurred his memory. 'Lets see, I came home, sat down, watched the news, then Alice made steak...or was it pork chops...no, that was Monday. Damn.' He dashed over to the couch and tore off the cushions. A quarter. A dust bunny. A old gum wrapper. No keys. He looked at the clock again 6:47. Certainly he would be late now. After running out of ideas, he decided to wake his wife. "Oh, Kyle, it's so early..." she groaned. "I know honey. I lost my keys. Have you seen them?" "Did you look on the shelf?" "Yes" "What about the couch?" "Yes, yes, I've looked everywhere. I think they were stolen..." ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Luthor rushed around the Spitting Cobra. His desperation threw him into a blur of activity. He checked and re-checked the kegs of beer. He sent a runner out to get more bandages and herbs for the healers. He got an update on the probability field by talking to Erik. He hired a few Low City kids to help clear the tables from the Spitting Cobra. He ordered someone find Trawm's missing head. When he had a spare second, he went back in the kitchen to look at the pocket reality that was causing his panic. Something had changed. Below the sphere was a small pile of objects that weren't there a few minutes before. He *carefully* approached, crouched under the sphere and took them. Curious as to their significance in the midst of this pending disaster, he took the objects and showed them to Erik. "What do you think of these?" he asked holding up the first one. It was a gold coin. "It was probably there before and we just didn't notice. Give it to a street kid or something." Luthor held up the next item. It was a series of strange pieces of metal that were apparently stamped or grinded to have a jagged edge. They were connected to each other by a ring of light metal that was equally unusual. "What about these? I've never seen metal like this and I would have noticed them when we were in the kitchen before." Erik took a closer look at the metal objects. "Hmm. Maybe they're holy items. It doesn't matter, just get rid of them. They don't hold any magical or probable power, so they can't be that important." He pointed to some writing one one of the pieces. "It says 'To Yota' on this one. It must be a holy item." "Who is Yota?" "Some foreign god I suppose. Really Luthor, we have better things to do than discuss theology." "Alright. How's the model looking?" Luthor said putting the objects inside his cloak. Erik just looked at him and shook his head slowly. It was going to be a bumpy night. Luthor walked away, joining Serene for a bit of fresh air outside the Cobra. He put his arms around her and held her tightly for a moment. "It will be alright Luthor. It has to be," she reassured him. He wished he could share she optimism. When the runner came back with more supplies, Luthor and Serene turned to go back inside the inn. Before going through the door, Luthor reached inside his cloak and pulled out the objects. He held them tightly in his hand and used ShadowMagic, "THESE COULD RETURN!" ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Slightly annoyed, Alice put on her slippers and shuffled toward the kitchen with half-open eyes. She walked to the shelf where her husband had put his keys since they were married. "I told you I looked there..." he began to protest. He was silenced when she reached up and held the keys in front of his face. "What are these then?" His face flushed in embarassment. "Thanks. I could have sworn they weren't there a minute ago. I gotta run." He took the keys, gave her a peck on the cheek, and dashed out the door (leaving his coat behind). Alice looked at it sitting in the living room and shook her head. As she shuffled back to bed, she thought, 'that man would lose his head if it wasn't screwed on tight.' When she opened her bedroom door, she screamed. Sitting on her pillow was the most ugly multilated head that she had ever seen. It's one-green and one-brown eyes stared at her lifelessly. Still screaming, she shut her eyes tight. 'It's not there. It's not real.' When she opened her eyes again, it was gone. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Back in the Spitting Cobra, someone finally found Trawm's head. Love and Peace and Missing Keys, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader 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- MagicHutchHeader Date: Tue, 29 Jun 1993 12:55:31 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93180.115531ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] All Is Lost Kyle Adams was late for work. He had gotten up, as usual, at 5:30 in the morning, taken a shower, had his coffee and toast, and watched CNN Headline News until 6:30. Then, he turned off the television, grabbed his coat and wallet, and headed for the door. He paused momentarily at the kitchen shelf to get his keys - they were missing. Reflexively, he patted his pockets, but they weren't there. He flung the closet door open and checked his other coats...not there either. He re-checked the shelf and his pockets again. No, they were gone. He looked at the kitchen clock: 6:42. If he didn't find them soon, he would be stuck in traffic and be late for work for the first time in his twenty-two years at Black and Helter Accounting Associates. He paused to think. He tried to remember what he did with his keys the previous night, but his panic blurred his memory. 'Lets see, I came home, sat down, watched the news, then Alice made steak...or was it pork chops...no, that was Monday. Damn.' He dashed over to the couch and tore off the cushions. A quarter. A dust bunny. A old gum wrapper. No keys. He looked at the clock again 6:47. Certainly he would be late now. After running out of ideas, he decided to wake his wife. "Oh, Kyle, it's so early..." she groaned. "I know honey. I lost my keys. Have you seen them?" "Did you look on the shelf?" "Yes" "What about the couch?" "Yes, yes, I've looked everywhere. I think they were stolen..." ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Luthor rushed around the Spitting Cobra. His desperation threw him into a blur of activity. He checked and re-checked the kegs of beer. He sent a runner out to get more bandages and herbs for the healers. He got an update on the probability field by talking to Erik. He hired a few Low City kids to help clear the tables from the Spitting Cobra. He ordered someone find Trawm's missing head. When he had a spare second, he went back in the kitchen to look at the pocket reality that was causing his panic. Something had changed. Below the sphere was a small pile of objects that weren't there a few minutes before. He *carefully* approached, crouched under the sphere and took them. Curious as to their significance in the midst of this pending disaster, he took the objects and showed them to Erik. "What do you think of these?" he asked holding up the first one. It was a gold coin. "It was probably there before and we just didn't notice. Give it to a street kid or something." Luthor held up the next item. It was a series of strange pieces of metal that were apparently stamped or grinded to have a jagged edge. They were connected to each other by a ring of light metal that was equally unusual. "What about these? I've never seen metal like this and I would have noticed them when we were in the kitchen before." Erik took a closer look at the metal objects. "Hmm. Maybe they're holy items. It doesn't matter, just get rid of them. They don't hold any magical or probable power, so they can't be that important." He pointed to some writing one one of the pieces. "It says 'To Yota' on this one. It must be a holy item." "Who is Yota?" "Some foreign god I suppose. Really Luthor, we have better things to do than discuss theology." "Alright. How's the model looking?" Luthor said putting the objects inside his cloak. Erik just looked at him and shook his head slowly. It was going to be a bumpy night. Luthor walked away, joining Serene for a bit of fresh air outside the Cobra. He put his arms around her and held her tightly for a moment. "It will be alright Luthor. It has to be," she reassured him. He wished he could share she optimism. When the runner came back with more supplies, Luthor and Serene turned to go back inside the inn. Before going through the door, Luthor reached inside his cloak and pulled out the objects. He held them tightly in his hand and used ShadowMagic, "THESE COULD RETURN!" ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Slightly annoyed, Alice put on her slippers and shuffled toward the kitchen with half-open eyes. She walked to the shelf where her husband had put his keys since they were married. "I told you I looked there..." he began to protest. He was silenced when she reached up and held the keys in front of his face. "What are these then?" His face flushed in embarassment. "Thanks. I could have sworn they weren't there a minute ago. I gotta run." He took the keys, gave her a peck on the cheak, and dashed out the door (leaving his coat behind). Alice looked at it sitting in the living room and shook her head. As she shuffled back to bed, she thought, 'that man would lose his head if it wasn't screwed on tight.' When she opened her bedroom door, she screamed. Sitting on her pillow was the most ugly multilated head that she had ever seen. It's one-green and one-brown eyes stared at her lifelessly. Still screaming, she shut her eyes tight. 'It's not there. It's not real.' When she opened her eyes again, it was gone. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Back in the Spitting Cobra, someone finally found Trawm's head. Love and Peace and Missing Keys, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader From: dnichols@engr.latech.edu (Dennis Nichols) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Games] Rest at last Date: Tue, 29 Jun 1993 18:27:51 GMT Message-ID: It was a quit walk back to Generica for Traveler. He Walked to the Dragon's Inn not seeing any of the junk left over by the Birthday party that had been going. He walked in to the Inn and started towards the familiar table where he and six others had joined in together in search of a medallion. Seven pawns in a terrible game. All of them, as far as traveler knows, gone. Only one other member survived. Thor-Kahn, the mighty Minotaur warrior, and his faithful companion Gleep. Just before he gets to his table he turns, not wanting to be reminded any more than necessary of the things that had happened. He starts toward another table and finds an empty one. He sits so that he can see anyone who enters the front door. He sits and watches for hours on end, waiting for something to happen. Unwilling to do anything on his own. His body needs to have time to completely mend. There are scars on his body he doesn't remember. There are pains he can't explain. There is a nagging feeling he has forgooten something improtant. The barmaid approaches him, but he waves her off unthinking. After she turns to go he hollers after her, and inquires about a room. She teels him one is available. Traveler pays her for a week in gold and heads for the room. In the room traveler lays down his weapons and begins to meticulously clean and sharpen all the items. He goes through his medical bag and checks to see if there is anything he needs. Seeing there is nothe puts each item away and lays down on the bed for a good nights rest. MagicHutchHeader From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roaming] Down the River Date: 29 Jun 1993 22:12:32 GMT Message-ID: <20qeogINNa9q@news.gac.edu> MagicHutchHeader "18 June 1993, World: Nexus, Location: Between the town of Farreach and the city Specifica of Furs. "We left Farreach yesterday just after dawn. In spite of Pheu's worries, there were no difficulties leaving port. A majority of the day was spent learning how to operate this enormous raft. Since I am working for my fare, it seemed wise to learn what I am supposed to be doing. "After an exhausting morning (I never realized how hard rafting could be!), I finally got an opportunity to observe the land, the river, and their relationships. "The land here is just as wild as where Pheu and I battled the ogres. But there is a distinct difference. By the grace of Chan-Da'all, I am able to observe the play of life on the land and in the water. Not all of it is familiar, but it is pleasant to *feel* the life that surrounds us. More than ever, I am grateful for the Lady's teachings. "At dinner, I once more had a chance to speak with my host. Pumice acknowledged again that his is the magic woven into the _Gibraltar_, but he will not tell me how a dwarf came to wield such power. 'Some secrets,' he said, 'must wait for the proper time, bard. You are welcome to dig them out; if you can.' "Pumice leaves me a bit uneasy. He is the first person to look beyond Chan-Da'all's follower. Most beings settle for my clerical aspect. That he sees the seeker of knowledge worries me somewhat... "Not that it truly matters. A bard's duty is entertainment, information, and teaching. These last two mesh nicely with the Lady's teachings. And if, on occasion, I find myself on center stage, I will not complain. Performance and drama of a sort have always been in my blood. "One of my many failing that Ellen insists attracted her to me. If I must bear these burdens to keep her, I bear them gladly. Besides, though I would never admit it to anyone, I *enjoy* center stage on occasion." ----- MagicHutchHeader "19 June 1993, World: Nexus, Location: Between the town of Farreach and the city Specifica of Furs. "Today has been as quiet as yesterday. There was some brief trouble with pirates last night, but several well-placed ballista bolts enforced our argument. Swordbeak's appearance simply capped out point. "It is lunchtime now. I had morning watch, so most of my afternoon is free. Longflyer has brought me several samples of flora and fauna I am not familiar with. Perhaps they will aid in dinner discussion tonight. The hawk has proven himself an able helper. I cannot speak his language, but our rapport is nonetheless uncanny. Longflyer understands my requests and the need for undamaged specimens. Having his help makes my task infinitely easier; having his company makes it decidedly more enjoyable. "Besides examining nature, I have been scrutinizing my fellow crew. Besides our master Pumice and the ranger Pheu, there are two humans. "The first is called Ted. He is short for a human, just over five feet with more of an elvish build than the stockiness of the humans I am used to. He has raven black hair and keeps it cut short. Ted seems a bit shy, but he is quick to smile and has yet to pass up the opportunity for a joke or anecdote. His main duties include turns at the wheel and manning the ballista. In fact, that is where he is now. "My other crewmate calls himself Bill. He is taller than Ted, almost six feet. Bill is arranged more like the humans I know. But he is still not stocky. There is a wiriness to his strength. The louder of the two, Bill is much easier to get an opinion out of; actually, he is quite vocal and outspoken. All seems in good meaning though. He does not hold grudges and provides a wonderful debater. At present, he has the wheel. Likely, the two will switch just before dinner. "Speaking of which, it is my turn to cook. I shall have to rouse Pheu soon and find where the little fiend hid our rations. These are strange companions I have now. I like them. But I cannot help wondering, how would Ellen react? Milady has a tendency to be a bit uptight and closed. "Worry about that later. Pumice has informed me that dinner comes early today. Apparently, we will make Specifica just after dusk. I eagerly await my first encounter the with civilization of Nexus." -Thaddius Farsinger "Tranquility is a man's best enemy / worst friend." ****************************************************************************** Sometimes, those you love most are the ones you have to leave behind. Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader From: peters@physics.ubc.ca (Dan Peters) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] Dream Wars, Part 3: Dreams of Freedom Date: 29 Jun 1993 22:12:47 GMT Message-ID: <20qeovINNaa6@iskut.ucs.ubc.ca> [ADMIN: Many thanks to Mike Sander, for helpful comments about this post, as well as for helping to provide the context for it. And thanks to Joe Carl for the title. (Welcome back Joe!)] >Myrnien sighed slightly, and decided to get some sleep. Last night had been >another evening full of activity, and it was only this morning that she found >time to rest. And besides, it might heal her in more ways than one.... Myrnien's occasional struggles to free herself during her waking hours were only one part of the Game. There was another struggle while she slept, which she believed (and hoped) was unknown to BBD. She generally tried to avoid thinking about it. BBD was frequently aware of what she was thinking, and if her plan were discovered, he would certainly counter it in some unpleasant way. Part of her Guard training, long ago, had been the use of breathing and meditation techniques to calm both mind and body. She recalled how the teacher of these methods, Master Aluz, had said, in order to explain this part of the training, "Sometimes, it is necessary to make optimal use of your rest time." But for Myrnien it was more than merely a relaxing technique. Once, when she was a child, her mother had told her, "Dreams are the soul's defenses, and its weapons. In times of despair, that's where you can find hope. In times of crisis, that's where you can find solutions." Myrnien and her sister and brother had been taught, from an early age, to cultivate their dream life, so that, provided they kept it up, nearly every night there would be a dream which was interesting enough to ponder or discuss. Later, during her training, Myrnien found that the meditation enhanced the vividness of some of her dreams, and even allowed her to control the content of her dreams to some extent. Once she had a dream whose beginning was much like waking up, for there she was in her bunk. She got up and looked around -- and to her surprise she saw herself, still lying in the bunk, asleep. She was even more surprised when she realized that her feet (not those of the Myrnien-in-bed, but those of the Myrnien-standing) didn't touch the ground -- she was floating, and she could move around simply by willing it. This dream had not gone any further than that, but on other occasions she went looking for the same kind of dream, and achieved it several times. She would roam around the Guard barracks and the grounds nearby in her dream-state, and whenever she was in a familiar place, everything appeared vividly as she knew it to be in the real world. Her greatest surprise was the discovery that even the unfamiliar places turned out, afterwards, to have been accurate in her dream. Naturally the idea of looking around the royal palace, just for fun, presented itself. But when her dream-self arrived there one night, there was Master Aluz waiting for her. "Not a good idea," he said. "Go back now, and see me after your weapons practice in the morning." That morning he explained the dangers of what he called Walking the Spirit Path. Among them was the fact that many wizards were capable of seeing, and attacking, such wandering spirits, and few non-wizards could defend themselves effectively. Also, he said, there were entities which lived in the Spirit Path which were often hostile. Now, in her state of slavery to BBD, Myrnien was often tempted to spirit-walk, for the sake of the sense of freedom it offered -- the power of BBD and the bracelet did not intrude upon her dreams, and in spirit-walking she would be able to wander around the city on her own, without being controlled. But she had not tried it, mostly because of Aluz's warnings. She knew little of wizardry, but she was almost sure that Generica was too rich in it for spirit- walking to be safe. Also she was afraid that BBD might notice it, since he was apparently a wizard. Not that he would harm her -- he already _controlled_ her; what more could he do? But this was a part of her life which was private, and she wanted to keep it that way. BBD had searched her mind so often that there were few private areas left. However, her experiences with unusual dreams, in which the real world and the dream-world were connected in some way, gave her an idea. In her dreams she had removed the controlling bracelet many times. She knew exactly how it was clasped, exactly how to manipulate it in order to remove it. And in the dream, unlike the waking world, there was no difficulty concentrating on the task. Now, as she slept, she found her way into a dream in which she was standing by the shore of the lake near her old home. The wizard's tower, the one with the strange exterior staircase that Kaalzic had always been fascinated with, was just visible on the far shore. She looked at her left wrist. The bracelet was absent, in this dream. That didn't matter. She directed her gaze toward the far tower. , she told herself. She still saw the tower and the lake, but she began to feel the coarseness of the blanket on her hands and arms. She knew that if she allowed herself to become too aware of the sensations her physical body was receiving, she would immediately wake up, as she had on previous attempts. It was beginning to work - she could feel the scratching of the blanket as her hands moved. The vision began to fade. The vision came back, even as the feel of the blanket disappeared. She repeated this many times - moving toward consciousness, moving her hands, and diving back into the dream - until she knew that her right hand was resting on the bracelet. A few more times, and her fingers were on the clasp. The next time through the cycle, she started to struggle with the clasp - and she suddenly lost it, and awoke with a start, as the power in the bracelet took over and forced her to pull her right hand away. The trick had failed again, but there would be many, many more opportunities to try it. She had never come this close to succeeding. There was hope - but she had to be careful not to reveal the hope to BBD. So, as usual, she put off her next attempt until her next sleep. Her sleep had (necessarily) been shallow so far this morning; a deeper sleep would be needed in order for her to keep the plan out of her mind throughout the rest of the day. She fell asleep again, but as she did so she could not help fantasizing a little: Another dream, this time in the desert, riding south from her homeland toward the Mbak Empire. But in the dream Kaalzic and Thalei were there with her, whereas when she had made the trip in reality Thalei was already dead and Kaalzic was convalescing, his face having been damaged beyond recognition. As they rode with her, they both gave her a lecture on the virtue of forgiveness, and the evil of wanting revenge. "Oh, just shut up, you two," she said. -- ^..^ / | Dan Peters | "There's too much craziness here - | /_/\_____/ | | in 25 years I have used all the tears | /\ /\ |peters@physics.ubc.ca| in my eyes." | / \ / \ | | -Kansas | MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] Gunther...Gunther? Message-ID: <1993Jun29.234108.14640@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> References: <1993Jun29.040127.4077@midway.uchicago.edu> Date: Tue, 29 Jun 93 23:41:08 GMT "Why are you asking us this?" Melwis asked Palandun directly after explaining the Generican legal system. "I want to charge Gunther Toodie with slave trading." Palandun replied. He went on to relate his little adventure with Dawg the Dragon. By the time it was over a guardsman was already on his way to Gunther's house with a warrant for his arrest. "How many witnesses do you have?" Melwis asked, "Can you produce them?" "They're outside." Palandun replied. Expecting a half a dozen on the outside Melwis proceeded to the front door. what he saw was a full half a thousand outside the gate. "How did he kidnap all these people?" Melwis wondered. "He didn't" The bismanian replied, "connectives of theirs sold them. That one's husband sold his wife and both children. That one was sold by a lover-" "Enough. Garris!" Melwis said, commanding the attention of his chief Guardsman. "Get your people together, I want to know who sold them and I want that person arrested." "M'lord, that will take-" "Then take it." "Yessir." The ambassador and the ruler watched as the guardsmen set up and began taking statements. Eventually they were interrupted by a runner informing them that Gunther's house was on fire, Gunther nowhere to be seen, presumably aflame. Picking through the ashes the next morning reminded Palandun of the battle at Gorrin Cor in the fourth orc war. His platoon had seen little action on the night of the battle, the whole division was put in tactical reserve. They had mostly spent the night saddled up and ready to move, watching the city burn below them. Next morning they had the unenviable task of picking through the ruins and trying to find and identify the dead. "By his buttons, the butler." the detective said, poking at so much charcoal. "This would be the anteroom." "And this his office?" Palandun asked. "I don't see any bodies." "Nor I." The detective replied. "Maybe he was in some other room." "No. We'd find the guardsman there." They both pondered for a bit. "So," the detective, "he hears that the guards are here to arrest him, guessing that his scheme is over, he sets himself on fire rather than face a trial." "Possible. Doesn't really sound like him." "No. But what other options did he have?" Palandun didn't answer right away, instead looking over the edge where the wall used to be. On impulse, he jumped off, landing safely if a bit roughly on the street below. "Mole hole!" Palandun shouted up. "Little burrowing creatures always dig their burrows with at least two entrances. That way if a predator comes down like a snake or a weasel they can escape the other way." "That's interesting." The detective replied, "but what does it have to do with the price of cod?" "That's what Gunther did. He saw the guardsman coming so he jumped out this way and escaped." "Setting fire to the house to slow down the follow-up. He could be anywhere by now." "Suppose we'll have to ask Mrs. Toodie." Getting Mrs. Toodie to talk wasn't easy. Her husband may have sold her into slavery for one of her guards, but she still loved him and stood by him. Getting an answer was easy, getting one that helped wasn't. "Where is he?" They asked. "Ydoine." "Wrong, no ships going there." "Alasir." They went this way through all four specificas, the three subkingdoms of Alasir, most of the Antillies, the Dark Continent, and Alpha. It was midafternoon when she finally clammed up and they quit. "No we are stuck." Palandun said, grabbing a bite to eat at the mess hall at Glorshanned Keep. "Not at all." the detective replied. "Consider. He didn't leave by land." "Why not?" "Our riders would have rode him down, found the hotel he stayed in, something. He also didn't cut cross-country. He'd never survive, no wood-skills." "Okay, so he left by sea. That still leaves the better part of Nexus." "No, it doesn't. Three ships left last night: The _Al Faram_ bound for Rameshan, the _Hsing H'sai_ bound for Cathay and the _Southwatch_ bound for specifica of the Sugars. He didn't go to specifica for the same reason he didn't go by land. He didn't go to Cathay because Mrs. Toodie mentioned it." "So he went to Rameshan. I suppose we'd better go get him." "I can't go. Out of my jursidiction." "Well, I'll take leave of Melwis and hop the next ship, they found my stuff?" "Sitting in a warehouse. It's been delivered to the inn." Palandun found and knocked on Ja'nis' door. She opened it. "When I got up this morning I was going to have you arrested." He said. "But I spent a lot of time with Mrs. Toodie today and she explained everything. You coulda picked a better employer." "I know." She said, eyes downcast. "I'm going after him, you want to come?" "I can't. I'm bound over as a witness." "Too bad. I'll send you a note or two." "You forgive me?" "For what? Wasn't your fault." The next ship for Rameshan left that afternoon. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Pitzar (kinda)] A little Night Music Message-ID: <1993Jun29.205430.19665@organpipe.uug.arizona.edu> From: corleyj@helium.gas.uug.arizona.edu (Jason D Corley ) Date: 29 Jun 93 20:54:30 GMT That night, in the bowels of the damp, black basement of the eternally crumbling _Examiner_ building, Old Man Heartwell laid a candle on a long wooden table and gathered up the sympathetic scrolls. Words pulled themself out of the parchment even as he watched, reflecting the words being written hundreds or thousands or millions of miles away. Carefully printed notes identified each one: Lerner (wast.), Pitzar (Unic.), Waverly (gossip), and Ziegler (tra/nil). Lerner had nothing new. He was with a Lizardman refugee camp deep in the heart of the Wastelands, working on some "gutwrencher" copy, he wrote. Pitzar's scroll was blank except for the name of a town: Lintel, and the words "Full Unic. story may be too hot." Waverly's scroll was, as usual, filled with gossip from the House of Silbury, which she had been sleeping around for years. Heartwell picked up a quill, and, squinting, copied it out, unconsciously editing the juciest bits and set it aside to dry a bit tamer. Ziegler's scroll was last. He had gone out to cover the Trarovia/Nilar war. Ziegler had a real eye for detail and a real flair for getting into the business of war. His stories were very popular But Ziegler's scroll said this: ----------- shitshitshitfuck yougoddammit Trarovia (EXAMINER)---shit it just fucking hit me , like a delayed fireblast a little fucking k Today, Trarovian forces marched on the small Nilar town of Diporsa, thought to be a way station for Nilar supplies. At the time of this writing, Diporsa is in flames. ONly lightly defended by Nilar infantry, this strategically crucial point has been shit why shit I'm gonna throw up fucking vomit's warmer than her body FUCK. IT. ITS NOW DAY 5,143 OF REALITY HELD HOSTAGE AND THERE'S NO END IN SIGHT. no end Fuck You, you bitch why dont you just show your fucking face we know who you are. We've SEEN you, Death, we KNOW you, we fucking _lie down in bed_ with you and youre oh so sweet we dont notice the goddam maggots until theyre crawling all over us and down our bloody throats well Im fucking tired of dealing with you you slimy cunt you win. YOU'VE WON. Confuckingratulations. you took that little girl and now youre gonna have to deal with me cause here i come death right down your goddam throat --------- A corner of the scroll was the deep black of a puddle of ink, and the bottom half was stained with scarlet splotches, spattered grimy red drops. The candle burned low. Dark shadows flickered dimly across the threadbare cloak Heartwell wore around his thin shoulders. He shivered in the blackness. Someone else would have to go. He tried to speak the words that would clear the scrolls, but it stuck in his throat. He coughed it out, and watched it all fade away, to a blank surface, yellow, waiting for a pen to fill it with words. -- **************************************************************************** "The trouble with radicals is that they read only radical literature and the trouble with conservatives is that they don't read anything."-Thomas Carter Jason D. "corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu" Corley is a walking disclaimer. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: jcarl@jabba.ess.harris.com (ShadowMaster) Subject: [BBD] The Price of Freedom [Reposted with revisions] Message-ID: Date: Wed, 30 Jun 1993 12:07:03 GMT [This may or may not have been canceled at you site. But we felt enough changes occured that we should repost the newly revised storyline. We hope you all enjoy it.] >"All right, talk." Lancos grunted, though more from Darvos' inspecting touch on his stomach than any comment on the lack of concern in Kryalla's words. The mage withdrew his hand, "This really should be attended to by a Priest, but I've got something that will help for the moment" he then concentrated and spoke a magical incantation. Running his hand parallel to the gash, the wound started to close. A pink jagged scar remained where once a bleeding wound was. "There." he said in his characteristic accent. Brushing his silver tinted black straight back with his fingers, he continued "That is the last wound that needs immediate attention. A priest could do better but it should cause you no more problems." Darvos grimaced in apology "Sorry about the scar" "Don't worry about it, I've got worse. Have you checked out Yosef?" the warrior asked. "They would not hurt him." Kryalla assured. "Not if they wanted me." "Well, then, let's see if he can tell us what's going on." Kaalzic stated, hungry for information. Yosef smiled. "Oh, I can do more than tell you, I can _show_ you. I remember where they first brought me." "Who leads all of this? That mage who kidnapped Lissa?" Darvos asked. A bitter tone coming in when he thought of the earlier travesty. "Lissa? Hmm, you must be talking about Velric. No, it's some guy who was only called 'BBD'. I never saw him; can't tell you anything about him. "What of Arcania?" The Shrouded One demanded. "Uh, she must have followed me to Generica. Now, as you saw, she's after you." Outwardly, Kryalla only nooded. But inside, the wall of doubt that had been built gained another layer. "All right, let's go..." * * * * Velric sat in his laboratory, slightly nervous at what he was about to do. The nervousness felt unusual to his experienced mind, but was understandable with his much younger body. He was running out of chances before he forget how to safely carry out this procedure, before he became unable to cure his own curse. Then, he could only watch himself grow younger and younger until he no longer existed, unless someone else interfered. And he knew of no one who would, perhaps imparticular his "benefactor", BBD. The blood had been largely prepared beforehand, as part of the magics to see if it would help him at all. And it _had_, although not to the degree he had hoped. It would take a deeper magic to stablize his age and -- dare he even think it? -- free himself of his cure. He began the first incanation, a simple one directed at himself to make sure he was ready; to insure he would not make any mistakes. Feeling like his old self -- so to speak -- again, he cast the next spell at the vial containing the blood, and the blood in the vial scintillated with all the colors of the rainbow. The liquid began to glow slightly, and speckles of black appeared within it muteing the light display. It was this blackness that he was after, a sign of the mark the vampire that had bitten Lissa had left. Now for the hard part: he cast the most important spell of the procedure, putting heavy amounts of concentration into it, with both his mind and his words. The blackness began to coalesce at the bottom of the vial, away from the blood. Velric strained a bit, and the black began to increase and swallow the scintillating blood above it. Slowly but surely -- as the blood seemed to resist the intrusion -- less and less red appeared, and eventually, it consumed with blackness. The mage smiled. It had taken a lot of work, but it _would_ be worth it. He picked up the vial, and drank nearly all its contents, saving just enough to try one desperate maneuver, or to give to someone else. He raised his hairless eyebrows at the taste. He didn't feel any immediate change, but he knew that wasn't necessarily a sign of what had truly occured. That required testing. He called upon his new blood -- his new powers -- to change him, to shapeshift his body into that of a wolf's. He felt a tingling in his body, every one of his hairs felt like they were standing on end, his breathing heatened as his temperature rose. Then, as quickly as if he had called upon magics to change him, a wolf stood where Velric's body had a second ago. The mage became overjoyed at this; he now knew the process had worked, and had boosted his own natural powers. Now he would try something more advanced; something he could not do with his regular magics. He felt slightly fatigued but attributed it to the strong encantations he had just cast. He concentrated on turning into mist; into becoming intangible. He felt his body lighten, his limbs numb and soften. Then he felt one with the air, and knew he had succeeded. He heard a sound, metal clanking against metal, and inwardly celebrated, assured that the bracelet had fallen off. Then he felt himself drift further and further apart, scattering with the wind. He nearly panicked at the feeling, before pulling himself together, both literally and figuratively. He breathed heavily as he came back into human form, and calmed himself down. He was exhausted at the effort. Apparently using his new found powers drain his energy stores terribly. He would have to find an energy source fast. Then the thought of Vampires needing blood struck an idea in his head. He called to one of his many servant for a vial of blood taken from a mundane human. The zombie servant scuffled across the floor bringing him his requested vial. Velric quaffed part of the blood, before feeling sick. What liquid he had not already swallowed, he immediately spit out. Not only did the blood taste awkward, but he felt no energy gain from it. So, he realized, he wasn't a true vampire for which he was sort of thankful for. He could duplicate some of the powers of one, at great physical cost -- he had to be careful where he used them. But first his mind turned towards the bracelet, still lying on the floor. BBD might not be checking on him at this point -- with "guests" expected and all -- but it would not be long. Velric's freedom -- and perhaps the rest of his life -- might be short-lived, since BBD was not one to cross. At the same time, there was no way he would just put the bracelet back on; he couldn't surrender power that quickly. Instead, now that he had had full control of himself and could manipulate the bracelet he used some of his own magic on it, to alter and reshap it. He provided a buffer between it and himself. BBD's commands would still be heard, but Velric would be the one to decide whether or not to follow them. And when the time came, Velric would revolt, and take over leadership _himself_. And he was more prepared now than before. He still needed to verify that he aged correctly now or _not_ at all as he hoped. But that required time and patience to verify. -- ShadowMaster "If you ever drop your watch in a pool of molten lava, let it go, 'cause man it's gone" Saturday Nigh Live "Deep Thoughts" jcarl@jabba.ess.harris.com MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roger] Out of the pan and into the fire... Date: 30 Jun 1993 13:50:31 GMT Message-ID: <20s5n7$l10@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> It was starting to grow dark in the forest when Endo finally called a halt to make camp. The encounter with the Grunts had been several hours ago, and they had been steadily jogging west since. They hadn't encountered anything unusual since then, just the normal creatures of the forest. In fact, earlier they had all rather foolishly drawn weapons and dropped to the ready as a deer had bounded through the clearing they had chosen for a short rest. After that, they had been more relaxed. "I'll take first watch, then Kayell, then Giarr, and last watch goes to Roger. Let's make it a cold camp, who knows what a fire would draw." Endo calmly gave the orders before picking a tree to set up their hammocks high in its branches. The hammocks were light but strong, made out of elven rope. They weighed less than blankets, and were probably warmer since the ground stole the body's warmth much more than the air did. The rest of the group followed suit, choosing suitable perches in the tree. They then sat down and started to eat a bland but filling meal of elven waybread and dried fruit. After some forgettable small talk, they went to bed as Endo assumed the first watch. Endo climbed into the lower branches of the tree, finding a good place to watch, and more importantly, listen. He noted the positions of his two elven friends and his human friend, the Jolly Roger. Endo wondered at the human. They had become close friends quickly, but he still knew relatively little about him. He was from an alien world with alien magics and what Roger called 'technology', yet he could have grown up in Amaliza. Not only did he know the forms, he seemed to know the Way more than many of the elves. The Way demanded much of a person. It demanded not only personal honor but patience, forgiveness, and personal sacrifice. Endo also worried about the situation between Roger and Kayell. Kayell was almost openly hostile towards Roger, and Endo couldn't figure out why. True, he had chosen Roger to be his second-in-command, but that was because Roger was the better qualified. Endo decided to have a talk with Kayell about the matter. Endo's musings were cut short as he heard a sound coming from the forest. He listened for a moment, and he heard it again. Whatever it was, it was coming closer. He waited, and the sound resolved itself into a warm-blooded humanoid, glowing red against the cool night air in Endo's infravision. It was a Grunt. Endo silently moved to wake the other three, signaling . Shortly, the four were perched in the tree watching the Grunt move through the clearing below. The four companions continued to wait in silence for long moments after the Grunt passed out of sight. As they watched, a group of four Grunts entered the clearing, moving in a rough line. The Grunts were combing the area, looking for them. The group once again waited, and long minutes later the clearing was once again empty. "Looks like we have a long night ahead of us," Endo whispered. Roger silently cursed as he made himself more comfortable, straddling a branch and leaning against the trunk of the tree. He closed his eyes and forced tense muscles to relax. Roger felt himself starting to nod off when he felt someone watching him. He looked around, but saw nothing. The others were busy either watching the clearing or trying to sleep sitting up. He decided he was jumping at shadows and tried to go back to sleep. He closed his eyes, but the feeling didn't go away. Actually, it intensified when he closed his eyes. It felt like someone was right behind him, peering over his shoulder. "Endo, I think we should move out." Roger had learned to trust his instincts after years of running the shadows, and the feeling was way too strong to ignore. "Why? The Grunts are still out there." "When won't they? I have a bad feeling. I feel like I'm being watched." Kayell looked at Roger sharply. "I feel that way, also. I agree with Roger." The last was said grudgingly. Endo nodded, and woke the lightly dozing Giarr. "We're leaving." Giarr nodded, coming fully alert in an instant. The four examined the clearing, illuminated by the false dawn. It was still another couple of hours until sunrise. The clearing was empty, and they quickly climbed down from the tree. Their gear was already stowed, and they silently left the clearing, heading northwest. The forest was rather dense, and they moved from tree to tree almost as silently as their pale shadows did. Endo was in the lead, and they slowly made their way through among the trees. Five minutes later, Endo ducked back after starting to go around a tree. "Grunts," he whispered. "A lot of them." He led the group off on a tangent, obviously trying to go around them. They moved, hardly daring to breathe. Roger strained, and could hear the occassional snap of a twig of rustle of a branch of the stealthily moving Grunts. Roger had the feeling that the Grunts were heading for the tree they had just left. "Damn. More of them." They moved on, heading on another tangent. It was barely a minute before they saw a third group, almost blundering into them. The four stopped, crouching among the brush between the trees. "Somehow, we've been encircled. Someone is spying on us." "We have to break free, there is no question," Giarr said. He then drew his sword, looking resolute. "We should try to avoid an enounter. Let's try to sneak through," Kayell said, looking to Endo. "Agreed. Let's go." Roger made sure his katana was in place as the group moved out. He hoped he wouldn't need it. The group backtracked, estimating a spot halfway between the groups of Grunts. Endo finally decided, and they turned to break free of the circle. They slowly crept from tree to tree, waiting for Endo to signal that it was clear. It seemed like they moved for forever, and Roger started to think that they had done it. His hopes were dashed as Endo signaled . He then motioned to Kayell and Giarr. The two moved forward and listened as Endo whispered to them. They then stalked off into the woods, Giarr heading left and Kayell right. Roger silently moved up to Endo's position, and waited as the Grunts slowly made their way towards them. Roger winced at the birdcall, but the Grunts didn't notice. He then saw that Kayell and Giarr were in position. Endo whistled back, and Roger watched them move. Twin blurs emerged from the forest, and then the Grunts seemed to stumble on the rough ground, then start to fall. Kayell and Giarr caught them as they fell, easing the Grunts' lifeless bodies to the ground. The four moved out, still trying to be silent, but also trying to put a little distance between them and the Grunts. They had been moving for about five minutes when the first horn blast shattered the silence. The Grunts had reached the tree. The companions started to run, praying that they had truly broken free of the deadly circle. ----- The Jolly Roger aka Brian Shea aka taz@athena.mit.edu Have a Day :| Eventually coming to a Dragon's Inn near you... MagicHutchHeader Date: Thursday, 1 Jul 1993 15:22:39 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93182.152239344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] A Matter of Trust "But that don't matter to us 'Cause it's always been a matter of trust" -Billy Joel [ADMIN: Again, thanks to all for input, and for making sure I don't accidently make some huge mistake in my wearied condition (midnights suck)] Yosef led them deeper into Low City, skirting around the Shunned Center, taking them to an area only a few of them had ever _seen_ before, let alone knew well. Kryalla, positioned in the rear with Tarkyn, was one that keenly felt the unfamiliarity of the place. She never had liked unfamiliarity, and Yosef recently had expressed it as heavily as the alleyway they just had entered. The Shrouded One turned to the ranger and said softly, "I do not trust him." Tarkyn's puzzlement showed, even after he followed her eyes to Yosef. "Why not? Wasn't he on your side versus this 'Arcania'" he said, lowering his voice to match Kryalla's. "Yes, _Yosef_ was! But I fear _that_ is not Yosef, but a daemon in his guise." Tarkyn could tell by her tone that such a thing was a very real possibilty. "Why are you only telling me? The rest should know too." Kryalla shrugged slightly, as if the point was unimportant at the moment "I only suspect. And they have other interests to occupy their thoughts." Takryn nodded at that. The way Arienne and Lancos acted towards each other, all knew who held the foremost spot in each of their minds. Even if the warrior _did_ look around occassionally, presumably to get his bearings and watch for surprises from the Gutt Man. Behind them walked Darvos and Kaalzic, each concerned about a member of the enemy's camp. "All right, I'll keep an eye out." Kryalla's shroud moved up and down slightly, expressing her approval. "Good, because I also expect a set up, and want to make sure I am prepared for it." And this time it was the ranger who communicated fully his thoughts, despite a shortage of words, by his understanding glare. * * * * Velric felt the telepathic command surge through the bracelet, telling him to go to the place designated the "Throne Room." He smiled when he realized the command had no force behind it, like it had before. This would be the acid test then, to see if he could follow orders well enough to satisfy -- and fool -- BBD. He walked quickly but steadily down the halls connecting the rooms. He came upon the throne room, and entered causally. Scanning the room in his best pose of unconcern, he saw the Gutt Man, Parsephalus, and a supply of daemons from Arcania, along with his "own" creations. Currently they were taking commands from BBD, but that would soon change -- as soon as the time was right. Velric purposely ignored the rabble, and focused his attention on the man on the throne. He gave a small bow, and did his best to imitate his usual forced politeness as he said, "Yes, BBD?" But the tone was different this time; only Velric knew why at the moment, but he pledged to himself that soon all here would know. BBD gave the necromancer a small smile. "As you may have guessed by the presence of the Gutt Man and Pars, the warehouse attack did not succeed. The self-proclaimed heroes are on the way here, and I have called everyone to prepare for them." Velric's lips twitched imperceptibly, almost forming a smile. But he controlled himself before BBD noticed. 'The time is near' he thought. BBD waved his hands quickly towards the far wall. An image appeared on it, showing seven all-too familiar figures travelling through Low City. Darvos stood out foremost in Velric's mind. He was the troublesome mage that had interfered with his first experiment with Lissa. 'Now she's coming along just fine.' Similarly, the Gutt Man stared longest at Lancos, the warrior still to blame in the child-killer's mind for why he had not be able to kill Little Rat and Lissa; why he had not been fully satiated. Pars had already evaluated all the members, and so his face matched that of BBD's, as well as most of the Thurlans: of universal but impartial hatred, coming from not knowing _who_ they might face. "See?" BBD continued. "Even now they near us! Out of curiousity, what would _you_ suggest, my dear Velric? -- perhaps shielding them from us at all?" Velric knew the correct strategic answer, but a telepathic command was coming through the bracelet, telling him to answer 'Yes'. BBD like manipulating incorrect answers from him. He like humilating his minions in general, to try to prove he was superior, and so would not miss the chance to do so now. Velric swore he would pay for that, but for now the mage only answered "Yes, that's what I would do", even though he did not have to. "Wrong!" BBD grinned wide at the incorrect answer. "That kind of thinking is what prevents you from being as good a second-in-command as Relbin was. No, if we kept them out, they would only get more forces, and we would either lose this house or our lives. Instead, we keep them _in_, trapping them in here for the rest of their short lives. One day you'll learn." He smiled at the others in the room. Velric only bowed in inferiortiy at BBD. 'Yes.' he told himself. 'One day -- perhaps even today -- I'll have my chance to kill you, and take over myself. The bracelet stopped me before, but cannot now; only the lack of opportunity can.' ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader From: kjc@aramis.rutgers.edu (Kelly J. Cooper) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Dying, Is an art ... Keywords: In the midst of the battle Message-ID: Date: 2 Jul 93 21:23:16 GMT ADMIN: This happens at about the same "time" as Liralen's [MG] Songs of Joy and Hutch's [MG] InFighting... in time i will collect the world First there was nothing, or at least a kind of blackness, an absence of light that seemed like miles of wet velvet coiled around her but not touching. IT, which was not an IT but a nothing, muffled everything, which probably wasn't anything anyway. Gradually, she became aware of wind blowing and she wondered how long it had been between when the sound had started until she'd noticed. The wind whispered roughly, as if it had been screaming for so long that it had torn or broken its voice. The sound was ragged and cold and seemed to come from everywhere, going nowhere. Deprived of context, her senses began overlapping. She could feel sounds, the sound of the wind sliding through her, but nothing touched her skin. There wasn't anything. She was aware of her body, motionless and suspended, but touching nothing. It occurred to her that they might be moving, and then she wondered who "they" were, and who she was for that matter. At that immediate moment the darkness cracked allowing light to flood in and with it, her memories, tumbling over each other and ricocheting around her mind as the oddly held moment in time moved and became the next moment, and the next and the next and she remembered that there was something inside of Nescie and it was holding her with Nescie's hand in a freezing cold grip that burned. They had moved <> way to somewhere that was a few degrees north of noplace and faced someone (thing?) that was like ... was like ... MAR ... but that also had light spilling through a hole in its (his?) chest. It, (he?) looked confused and ... familiar? Yes. Ah, the security mage who had escorted her out of the Mage Guild. Dieter. With something in his head. The Dieter-thing had killed a waiter; she had blood on her clothes. Blood on her hands. Blood on her face and she was ... loosing some of her grip on ... things. Words. Movements. The blackness A spilled out of Nescie and wrapped around her and she felt tiny stingingsearingrending pains singing through her body as part of things within her snapped and she was lifted again, her wept suspended again, this time by the hand wrapped around her and shrank heart, squeezing it tightly. Pain blossomed and spread smaller still and she felt her body responding, healing, sending hiding and just painkillers through her mind and NO! NO! NONONONO barely holding on TORE RIPPED PAIN SHREDDING SANDPAPER SEARING BURN so unable to under ACROSS HER MIND HER BRAIN ON FIRE CUTTING BLOOD stand the pain that HE'S NOT CAN'T AH I NOTHING NEVER NONONONONO it simply refused and pain so HURTS she couldn't HOLD it rebelled quietly oh so understand it TOUCH it get HOLD OF IT it quietly can't let him see was beyond comprehension beyond BEYOND can't let him know i'm here lost TEARING she RIPPING she CUTTING have to stay quiet and hold on she HURTING she TWISTING let go ... she couldn't escape the pain ... there was nowhere to go ... he was amplifying her agonies and weaving them into his power ... The small part of h er that w as holdin ... the rest of her surrendered to the pain ... g on shud dered, an d hid mor e deeply. ... and she began to see visions ... a boy, she nailed to felt dizzy a tree ... and it spun until it was a card, the hanged man, rope around ... the tree fell ... his ankle, leg crossed, hands nailed to the roots ... an altar bearing a flayed corpse chained to the marble ... blood ran along the channels on the edge to flow through a trough at the base and spill onto the white floor... ...white hands pulled a rough piece of cloth over her eyes and in the darkness, she saw bright points of light, swimming and colliding... ... looping almost lazily ... ... two lights came together and formed a brighter point ... the lights danced ... and the vision resolved itself to fireflys flying in synchronized patterns ... ... the lights came closer (got brighter?) and she could gradually make out beings made of light each paired with a being made of dark (black? darker than nothingness) ... the light fed the dark, making each smaller but more intense ... the dark sucked at the lights, making them dim slightly and move slower ... the pairs danced a slow waltz and she realized she could hear music ... even as she noticed, the music ended and another song began ... the lights switched to a minuet, but the darks resisted, preferring instead to create a mosh pit and slam dance ... the lights began doing interpretational jazz and it occurred to her that she was actually --very slowly, or was it quickly? time had lost relevance-- going mad ... which was, in truth, an amusing thought outside of the insistent pain throughout her body and mind ... she couldn't get away from the pain ... that required separating her conscious mind from her body that was one thing she could never do ... that was why she was what she was ... why she could heal herself ... the eggs and wings of you who fall on butterflies calvary The small part of her consciousness was thinking, frantically shovelling sane thoughts into the vast swirling mass that used to be the rest of her mind. She was failing. Everything she threw disappeared without a ripple. Stopping, she gazed about herself, almost an island in a roiling rainbow sea of everything melting together losing definition carved by pain and horror. She blinked. Within the eye of the storm the image of Jameson that she held inside herself, maintaining her self, sat down and began making butterflies. had you wings of i give my children butterflies butterflies Everywhere her butterflies touched, the blackness and pain recoiled slightly. She began making them faster. * * * The battle raged, sometimes with hits and throws, sometimes in motionless tests of stubborn resolve. In front of Nescie-who-was-MAR, facing outward, Jameson W. Walker stood utterly still, eyes opened as wide as possible, rippling shudders of tormented muscle and bone flowing under her skin where it showed through the tatters of her clothing. Her arms were flung outward, her fingers spread taut. She looked as if she had been caught mid-flight and pinned to a board. There extended from MAR a myriad of what looked like fine black wires, each tipped with a small barb. Most of them were embedded in her flesh, pulling here and easing there as MAR's being undulated. MAR was using her as a shield against a direct attack from Dariel, and abusing her ability to heal herself to keep her alive. While keeping her body from fully healing he was also blocking her endorphins to better amplify her agony and use it as a weapon against those who sought to destroy him. One hand, buried in Jameson's back halfway up Nescie's arm, held her heart, allowing it to beat only when her systems were close to failure. When the Servant of Hope stood before Him, He looked back in disdain. The Other would never kill an innocent, even to destroy one such as Himself. He was caught off-guard when Dariel stepped THROUGH the woman. He felt the burning pain of Hope touching his being where He held her heart and silent white light exploded outward, everywhere, lighting everything. Light spilled out from Jameson's eyes, mouth, fingertips, and torn skin. It ran up his lines, flowed around his feet, crashed over his head. The brightness poured into his being, quickly spreading through him like wildfire. Jameson smiled. He began to scream. --- "Butterflies" is by Toad the Wet Sprocket, track 3 on the album FEAR. Does anybody read any of this? Just curious ... Feedback appreciated. Kelly J. Cooper kjc@cs.rutgers.edu MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Story server for multi-author posts Date: 4 Jul 1993 02:36:42 GMT Message-ID: <215fnq$hfl@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> I'm working on writing a MUD from scratch and hance am playing with servers. I've done some posts with other authors and noticed how time comsuming it was to send email back and forth, so I modified a server to allow people to log on and write together, with what they write being saved to a file. (Only one person can be writing at a time, all other participants get to see what is being written line by line and can talk to each other without disturbing the current writer.) Unfortunately, I have not worked with clients yet, so to get the file containing what you collectively wrote, you have to run the server yourself. I've got the code running, so if anybody wants it, email me and I'll send it to you. Melchi the White csteiner@oucsace.cs.ohiou.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roming] Specifican Getdown Message-ID: <215pj2INN9k7@news.gac.edu> From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Date: 4 Jul 1993 05:24:50 GMT Excerpted from _Broam's Guide to the Known Lands_, Vol. III. "Specifica of the Furs. "Founded almost 400 years ago, this Specifica is a bastion of civilization among the wilds of the Great Forest. Here, the cultured races can meet the barbarian sub-races and deal with them from a position of force. It serves as a center of learning, an island of enlightenment, and a safe haven. "The city itself is about 10,000 inhabitants. As indicated by the name, their primary economic activities revolve about animal pelts. Some are trapped by locals; others are received by trade with the Forest's inhabitants. All are shipped downriver to Generica. From there, these items are exported throughout the known lands. "Town life is very..." MagicHutchHeader "Notes of Specifica of the Furs: "Never be alone. Always watch your back. DO NOT make trouble for the Watch OR the gangs. They'll team up to fry you. "In the day I was alone in Specifica, I was roughed up at the gate, endured two muggings (to their eternal regret), got horribly swindled, and was sentenced to infinite damnation for my hobby. I doubt there is an honest sage in the city. The clergy seems more concerned with wealth and power than salvation. And a dwarf's enemies, the goblinoids, are perhaps the most well-behaved of the bunch. "From now on, I deal at Specifica only when necessary. I do so on my terms, with one hand on my dagger and all my defenses ready. May the Forger forgive any offenses I cause." ----- Surprisingly, Pumice would not let Thad disembark right away. At least, it was a surprise to Thad. Pheu expected it, even agreed to it. The goblin explained his reasoning thusly: "You think wilderness bad? Not last long in Spec'fa, Thads. Trouble all over place. We wait for morning, be safer; bigger nasties will have fled from sun." Thaddius reluctantly agreed. Morning arrived soon enough and brought a chance for Thad and Pheu to try their new rafting skills. Pumice wanted to dock; he thought there might be trade. So he had the two assist him while Bill and Ted prepared the cargo. The novices had learned their lessons well. Except for one mishap, docking went off without a hitch. Having nothing to do while Pumice battered, Pheu offered to show Thaddius "civilization." Afterwards, the half-elf always wondered how he let Pheu talk him into something so unusual. Maybe it was a lesson of Chan-Da'all. But the meaning escaped Thad. Specifica of the furs had the feeling of a boom-town. Pheu led Thad by glittering mansions, witnesses to the wealth that could be tapped from the Great Forest. But he also took the half-elf through a slum wretched enough to tear a dictator's heart. "If this is your civilization," whispered Pheu, "me glad me goblin and live in woods. Not need this. Can barely survive as is." Thaddius had no good reply. *** The trouble started at lunch. Pheu had suggested a place in the Outlanders' Quarter; they would serve anyone, no questions, no trouble. The ranger spoke highly of the place, enough that Thad was willing to give it a try. The two entered and approached the bar. Pheu led the way, oblivious to the silence that fell when he and Thad entered. The bard noticed, but passed it off as the unusual spectacle of a goblin and a half-elf in peaceful company. He scanned the room and turned his attention to the conversation at the bar. The 'keep was being particularly annoying. "We don't serve your kind here, goblin!" "What you mean?" came Pheu's indignant reply. "Pheu eats here plenty." The goblin squinted, and pulled himself partway over the counter. "Whadahell... You NOT barkeep! Where you put Fred?" The barkeep smirked, "I killed him. Got something to say about that, runt?" Pheu started climbing over the bar. "Pheu gonna ring youse fat neck." A gloved hand pulled him back down and spun him around. "He said you were not welcome here, filth," came a whisper. "Now leave." Thad cursed silently. He had not even noticed the hooded figure standing nearby. He cursed again when a growl escaped Pheu. The goblin punched straight out, catching his assailant in the groin. As the assailant fell, he lost his cloak, revealing ebony skin, fair hair, and pointed ears. "Drow!" gasped Thaddius, completely flabbergasted. Pheu kicked the dark elf into unconsciousness. Thad recovered, readying his staff as the common room erupted into chaos. Bodies fled in every direction from a pair of drow started across the room. The 'keep ducked into the pantry and locked himself in. The crowd bought Thad valuable time to react. Shouting out to Cha-Da'all, he split her power into two channels. First, he empowered his staff, then shaped a shield about himself with the rest. A grim smile crossed the bard's face as he felt the thickening of his skin in response. He stepped forward. Thad parried the first drow easily. It had not cleared the crowd before trying to engage the half-elf. A flick of the wrist, and the longsword bit into the floor. The drow stabbed with a stiletto, getting a broken wrist for his troubles, followed by a split skull. But by now, the other drow had closed. This one wielded two short swords with deadly skill. For several seconds, Thad and the dark elf feinted and parried, the upper hand changing several times. But the half-elf managed to beat the drow back. A voice rang out from across the room, "Lloth, aid me now!" A female drow was beginning to attack. At the bar, Pheu, who had finally given up on getting the 'keep, turned. The goblin hefted an axe and pivoted, hurling it and diving off the bar. The female took it in the arm and fell, her concentration shattered. Taking advantage of his opponent's surprise, Thad chanted, blinding the drow, and then struck him in the groin. At the table, the cleric was rising with a bloody shoulder. Pheu reached out and caught his axe as it returned to him. Thad gestured again, sending several darts of light at her. They impacted, but had no visible effect. Again, she started to call on her goddess. Pheu was waving frantically from the stairs. "Lets go, Thads! We not able to match her." The goblin bolted up the stairs with Thad right behind him. Both burst onto the roof. Pheu stopped and tossed a flask down the stairs. "Insurance," he gasped and leapt to the next building. Behind him, the door exploded in flames. Thad followed close on his friend's feet. The two tumbled to a halt. "We gonna hafta hide," said the ranger. "Watch or gangs not gonna like this." "Indeed," replied the bard. "Lead the way. I, for one, do not wish to face the drow's irate comrades." Gathering themselves, both set out across the rooftops, hoping to outrun pursuit. *** MagicHutchHeader "23 June 1993, World: Nexus, Location: Specifica of the Furs. "It has been three days since the escapade at the inn. Pumice is furious. We have not been linked to him, but he fears it is only a matter of time before some mage scries the connection. I have told him not to worry, but have not explained why. As he said, some secrets can wait. "Pheu, on the other hand, is ecstatic. It seems that drow destroyed his tribe some years ago. He has made it his personal mission to oppose them whenever possible. According to what we can learn, the inn we destroyed was a focal point for their espionage activities in the area. "As for myself, I am happy to escape with my life intact. Dark elves are not a race to be taken lightly. But that is behind us. Tomorrow we depart Specifica of the Furs. If I never set foot in this place again, it will be to soon." -Thaddius Farsinger "I don't mind watching you back. But next time, damnit, ASK first!" ****************************************************************************** Sometimes, those you love most are the ones you have to leave behind. Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader From: corleyj@helium.gas.uug.arizona.edu (Jason D Corley ) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Pitzar (sorta kinda)] Neither Rain Message-ID: <1993Jul5.210003.5084@organpipe.uug.arizona.edu> Date: 5 Jul 93 21:00:03 GMT Old Man Heartwell's footsteps sounded loud on the creaking boards deep in the basement, behind the printing presses of the Generican Examiner. There was a small door back there. He rapped on it, and it almost immediately opened. The imps were all standing, looking at him. He had never seen them sit down, or use the tiny beds the room contained. They swayed back and forth with obvious energy in the glare of the many lamps and candles in the room. Heartwell cleared his throat. "I need someone to take a message for me. It'll be going several hundred miles." The mindless whispers continued. Heartwell had never heard one speak out loud, and the slight, continual whispers they exchanged sounded more like the random hissing of children pretending to have a secret than actual words. One imp stepped forward, trying unsuccessfully to hide a smile on his face. Heartwell said "You'll go?" The imp nodded. Heartwell led him outside, the heavy door groaning. Across the street, the buildings were suffused with a slight red glow as the sun began to rise. Heartwell pointed northwest. "Take this parchment to Jake. He's in Lintel, that way. Come back here as soon as you're done." The imp giggled, nodded, took the parchment in his little hand, and capered away down the street, disappearing around the corner. Heartwell had been down to Mage's Row a hundred times for two-way sympathetic scrolls, but they cost more than either he or the paper could afford. He had to rely on messengers, and more and more, as the paper grew, he had to send out the imps. The imps had been with the paper a long time, and nobody really knew why they stayed, or if they would ever leave. But they seemed happy, if a bit unnerving to the people around them. The sun continued to rise, but Heartwell felt no warmer. --------------- Jake: The unic. hunter piece was good. We sent R. up to the mages to get a related story and it was page one stuff. Dont worry about the rest of the story if its too hot. There's been some problems with Ziegler up in Trarovia. Youre the closest one weve got. Go to Brig. General Tylon up in Capital City, he was Zieglers last H. Command contact. Zieglers last report came from Diporsa. I think he may be dead, Jake. Im counting on you, but dont be afraid to come back if things get too hot. Just get us one last story and everything will turn out all right Im sure. H. --------------- -- ***************************************************************************** "We can't all be sound. We've got to be the way we're made."---Mark Twain Jason D. "corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu" Corley was found dead earlier this week, but was cloned using terrifying new alien processes invented by Elvis. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan) Subject: [NTY] Sea, Sand and Sweat Message-ID: <1993Jul6.044149.14513@midway.uchicago.edu> Date: Tue, 6 Jul 1993 04:41:49 GMT Water lapped gently against the keel of the boat as the pilot gently steered toward the moorings. Gripping the deck rails in anticipation of disembarking, Gunther Toodie (traveling under the name Ambrose of Windwether) peered at the famed towers, castles and edifices that comprised the skyline of the city of Pashar. Tall and broad ships from every port of Nexus magnificently made their way across the wide-mouthed harbour or swayed idly at the docks. A warm summertime's breezze from the south carried with it the scent of lamb and herbs roasting on an open fire. Surely, Gunther decided, it had been too long since his last visit to this majestic city. After vacantly proceeding with all the usual departure procedures and local trade/customs inspections (which he cunningly passed by means of his quick wit and magical chest), Gunther made his way toward the southeastern corner of the city. The tavern known as Khosh Pearl was located in a poor but unexpectedly (to an uninformed outsider) clean and safe part of Pashar. The Shaheran's Guard were nowhere to be seen, nor were any of the temples or local lords particularly active in administrating the neighborhood. The true reason for Khosh's (for which the tavern was named) tranquility was the vigilance of a consortium of dealers and blackguards known as the Amber Crescent, who made the territory their headquarters. The Amber Crescent contained many legitimate businessmen- some even rather respectable, but was rightly more commonly associated with a notoriously unwholesome commerce of drugs, booty, plundered treasures and slaves. The Shaheran's authority was openly flouted in this quarter, and Amber Crescent thugs openly ruled the streets and establishments. Indeeed the Amber Crescent had even raised a kind of parody of the Shaheran's guard- patrolling the alleys and avenues of Khosh and preventing any illicit activity which was not sanctioned by the Crescent. The Pearl was widely known to be the meeting place for Amber Crescent members who needed to contact one another. It was into this tavern that Gunther now stepped. He had deposited his magical chest in the room he had lodged elsewhere in Pashar and carried on his person such wards, guards and devices as he felt necessary to secure his own safety. A scarab would grow warm if he were being scryed, for instance, and his black-coloured skullcap protected any psionic from stealing his thoughts. No sensible precaution had been excluded- any conceivable or even inconceivable Achilles' Heel could and had been exploited by the infinite treachery of the Amber Crescent members. "Hail, friend," a bespectacled gnome greeted Gunther. He returned the greeting with a raised palm and seated himself at the gnome's table. "Sirroch," Gunther Toodie addressed the gnome, "I fear that there has been a most unfortunate setback in Specifica of the Gems. Tis being, I'm afraid I'm going to have to call in one of those favours you owe me. I have reason to believe that Generic officials have uncovered the operation and confiscated the chattel. I need... well, I need in on that excavation plan you've laid out. I'm not asking for money- I've enough of that- even now, but I do have to... ah... maintain a comfortable distance from any former miner of mine seeking retribution for incarceration." Sirroch the gnome grinned and wrinkled his hands. "All right, to translate your overwordy Northerner request into common speech, then, you want to lay low down here in Rameshan and are asking my permission to lay even lower down in Alamatar. Gunther frowned and nodded at Sirroch's blunt assessment of his distress. "Very well. You do understand that there have been a couple of new developments down in Alamatar that have complicated the recovery of the Ahmeyan treasures-- it turns out that those tombs have a whole new generation of occupants- and these do not welcome visitors any more than I might welcome a policeman. So, naturally, we've been implementing a number of the usual methods of dungeoneering- drugging adventurers and throwing them down there, paying thieves and anti-thieves to scope out the traps and disarm them, tossing prisoners or captives into the darkened corridors as bait for the beasts so that our pikemen can find them- all the basic tricks. But the brute force method is hardly as economical as sending a competent agent down there. I can outfit you with any supplies you need and surround you with all the cannon fodder you could ask for. Doesn't this sound nice?" Faced with the prospect of living in hiding in Pashar or the north, a dungeon expedition seemed a welcome alternative. And it was hardly as if his own life would be in danger- he'd simply order whatever adventurers or mercenaries assigned to him to take all the risks. He didn't have to consider for very long. "Sirroch, old friend, consider yourself in the presence of your new Alamatar expedition director." ADMIN: To continue... Ol' Gunther Toodie's off on a rather sick version of the traditional dungeon crawl... -- Dennis Brennan djb6@midway.uchicago.edu MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Bulletin Board Date: 6 Jul 1993 00:29:18 GMT Message-ID: <21ah0u$squ@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: Bulletin, board, admin -=- Dragon's Inn Bulletin Board -=- week ending 3-July-93 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NEW THIS WEEK: Faraway Investigations -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OTHER ACTIVE POSTS: Posted by: Imports, Exports, and Arms (Jeremy Nelson, gujn@uniwa.edu.au) Content: WE apologize for any time distortions in the local area, however, due to testing of a device (Henceforward known as 'The Thing'), the local timestream has become dislocated. There is no danger, however some people may undergo slight disorientation. Some people may apparently find themselves in multiple locations at one time. We assure customers that this is not dangerous, and all time lines are in fact continuous, and will straighten themselves out in time. We recommend leaving early for any important appointments. Normal service will be restored tomorrow, yesterday, in three weeks' time, and in three hundred and thirty years. All complaints should be forwarded to: Imports, Exports, and Arms. We thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Moriarty (Aaron Humphrey, aaron@space.ualberta.ca) Content: |-------------------------------| | Moriarty Investigations, Inc. | | | | Magic and muscle at your | | service! No problem too large | | or small! Reasonable rates! | | | | 15A-Gamma Cor Caroli Lane | | Just off the Arcade of | | Unforgotten Heroes! | |-------------------------------| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Trawm (The Dreamer, asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Content: Attention all Real Men: If you is reading this then you is in the rong bar. Come to the Spitting Cobra were you can have a good time at a good prise. FITING ENKOURAGED. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Malthus Dela Noeuze (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Content: **************************************** ** Perfumerie Grand Veneur ** ** Is Seeking a Person To ** ** Find and Bring Back a Great ** ** Blooddrinker or Souleater ** ** For Perfumeric Substances ** ** All Contacts Considered ** ** ** ** Master Perfumerist Malthus ** ** Dela Noeuze ** **************************************** ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by : Faraway Investigations (albert@bcm.tmc.edu) Content: Grand Re-Opening: Faraway Investigations. 324A Blue Moon Ave. (one block west of Ardrey's) "No case is too big for Faraway." Rates Negotiable. =========================================================================== SPECIAL STATUS: Posted by: Zenith (Mike Bavister, mrhyde@netcom.com Content: ANNOUNCING THE A.P.D-I ARCHIVES I have been carefully recording all that has transpired here at the Inn and in Generica. I estimate that my archives are missing less than 1 in 100. The archives contain over 4600 chapters (articles) in 20 huge volumes (MB). Currently the archives are only indexed by Subject (Subject line), but my trusty scribes are hard at work attempting to compile a keyword-index by name, place, and "thread". Alas, this task may take a while. There are two methods by which you, the citizens of Generica, can access the archives (and their indexes). Via the Post-Office or by Magic. Via Mail: Send mail to the address below, with your request in the body of the message. I will then search the index(es) for you, and either mail you the matching "chapters" or a list of matches (if there are too many "hits"). Until the keyword index is compiled, I will be very reluctant to search the actual archives for your requests. TO: mrhyde@netcom.com. EXAMPLE: Dear Zenith, Please search your archives for all occurance of "Lancos" or "Zebron". Thanks. Via Magic: I have set aside a portion of my personal library for the Indexes and other materials of interest. If you know the powerful "FTP" spell, you can access the indexes directly. The arcane formula is listed below. This archive is "read-only", you may retrieve anything you like from it, but you can't place anything there. If there is something you'd like placed there for the benefit of all Generican citizens, let me know via mail. Do not forget to use "binary mode" for all not in ".txt" format. The FTP library currently contains: Subject indexes (no.1-no.3999) The Directory of Generica (latest edition) JourneyGarb flyer/catalog APDI FAQs (full and mini) And coming soon: The DragonQuest Saga *note* All ".zip" files are compressed using the latest state-of-the-art compression magic. Older uncompression magic may not work (use "zip19" or "pkzip2.04"). If you have any difficulty with either the transfer of files or decompression, please let me know. ftp netcom.com(192.100.81.100) login: anonymous password: (your e-mail address) cd /pub/mrhyde/APDI Cheers and happy reading ____ / __ __ o _|_ | / |__| | | | | |__ /___ |__ | | | |_/ | | Head Librarian of the Great Library of Generica -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- REMOVED THIS WEEK : none _________________________________________________________________________ ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader From: bshsiung@quip.eecs.umich.edu (Bernard Hsiung) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Endgame Date: 6 Jul 1993 20:43:03 GMT Message-ID: <21co4n$ppk@zip.eecs.umich.edu> [ADMIN] Thanks to Hutch for being a driving force. Thanks to Li for taking my vague ideas and half-turned phrases, and patching them into something that looked presentable. Thanks to Kelly J. for the use of her character and her thoughtful criticism. And thanks to everyone who's ever expressed an interest in the [MG] thread! ---- "Between the desire and the action, there falls the Shadow." -- T.S. Eliot Focus. Whole. Curl one. Furl one. Then extend. My wings swooping, turning... You cannot hide from me any more, Mar, not with a portion of my own buried in you. There, that is the entry to the place of your desire. I twist, unbalance, tumble, fall. Very appropriate, I suppose. I flare, my brightness blurring the darkness palpable, and the darkness struggles back like a thing alive. Light and dark, Mar? Comfortable old symbols, an old dichotomy. Two other lights leap in the darkness in answer to me. Good, they are here as well. In an instant, I see where they all are, who they all are. It is a small world; my wings extend to -- ah, I see, you restrict my full motion most cunningly. "Coral, Dieter's over there. Hurry." She runs to where three face one. You have already wounded the one I turned, but she still stands and battles on. One of the lights is before her, the other behind her, holding back the darkness with fiercely bright pinions that tarnish under the onslaught. I hear your laughter, Mar, but now there are two of us arrayed against you, the Silver Warrior and I. The bright pinioned one, Silver Warrior, furls her wings at my entrance and I drop to stand at the other end of all that is. The darkness coalesces, shrinks between the two of us, and turns to face me. I am the more familiar foe. But what I see gives me pause. You hold these two closer than you did your own children, Mar. The cold meridians of your being intertwine and choke off the one, who in turn holds the other by her heart on your needles. I see the threads of your control that tilt her this way and that, always obstructing my avenues of approach. So. You have read me well; you can tell I will not countenance the unnecessary destruction of these two, not while there is still even the faintest chance that they may survive. You can tell that if you were to end them, I would, I could, in turn end this and you immediately. A careful balance. You smile at me, a baring of teeth in that so young face that belongs to the one asleep, choked to unconsciousness by your presence. I turn to test the borders of possibility, and visions of what may come begin to pass through me even as I start to act. [Raising my hand to cast of lights vortex shimmering in a falling upon you from all sides but one, but that is enough to break the hold you scrape the dormant spirit against it I must let go.] [Pulling on of your essence you avoid the separation coil and spring with my motion brandishing your tearing strips from my side.] [Feinting reflecting a off my ally in silver, you allow it to press through so that it catches and turns it back below.] [A steady pulse of driving through your being collapsing it entirely, but you drag the two others into the with you as you curse me and die.] [...] These are unsatisfactory. I must change the options and the conditions. I walk closer. The silver one shifts on the far side of your little world. I hear the sounds of fighting behind her, for your child, Mar. Echoes of song and laughter, and I know you will lose him. Somewhere a host is crushed under an eternity. And a voice which was made for gentle musings grates, "Turn against the hand that made you?" I see the gathering of your strength in preparation and I [intercept? counter? unbalance? strike?] -- but I find that the proper action is none at all. You catch the silver one off guard, knock her aside for a single instant, to rake hate through the slender back of your own child. She falls. Can you not see her beauty, the beauty you yourself built? Then silver winged one is up again and shielding, and you are repulsed. Bloodprice for an orphan. Black lines flame and wither and the other child of yours, Mar, he is turning against you too. His grief will heal them both... I reach across what is and touch the softness of her cheek through our connection, "Your naming has done you exceeding well, Joy." I walk a step closer and you whirl to face me again. You hold your shield high and I know you know I will not break it to get to you. You turn your shield's agony on to me, and I dare not touch... FIRE THAT BURNS {warm flames guard against the night} WATER THAT DROWNS {healing fluid, thirst-quenching} WIND THAT TEARS {refreshing air, crisp and fresh} EARTH THAT SMOTHERS {fertile soil, life-giving} NOTHING, NOTHING, THREE TIMES NOTHING {that which was not there before} I AM ETERNAL. I AM ALL-POWERFUL. I FOUGHT SEVEN WARRIORS AND WAS NOT DESTROYED. Look at yourself, Mar. You are the only portion that got away. You hide behind two souls. Had your words merit, you would not have to shout them. Had your words truth, you would not have to say them. Not at all, at all, all you see, you see, see, is, see is. All I see is agony; but within her eyes... [Eyes: my eyes, your eyes, her eyes... Her eyes?] An answer. [My eyes? So be it. This, then, is the path I take.] I reach to them and you, and I touch her. Her eyes are already as wide as they will ever be, ever can be. I feel the muscles of her chest crawling with her hurt, the warmth of her skin, and then I reach... PAIN where we meet, you and I. I push against it, into it, flooding through her, through the lines you've implanted in her through that bit of her that had accepted, thinking it was the gift of a friend. I push, harder and I stream from her, though those lines... Focus. Hole. Knit one. Purl one. Then expend. My hands sweeping, testing... You begin to scream. I must needs use both hands for the separation. The body of the sleeping one's being is so fragile within my grasp, and I must keep you away from him during the division. Both hands. So, even screaming, you reach forth and... Very near, I see the whorls of his fingers' prints, the swirl of your being through him. I catch, at the edge of my vision, the glint of the Silver Warrior's wings. I look to remember exactly where and how you hold this one who is only partially within my grasp. Then I see no more. I... I reach into the sleeping one and give him enough of my fire to awaken him. You scream louder, harsher yet, and more of him comes free. He breathes again, his breathing, not yours. He moves, and his first thought is for the betraying shield. You take the thought and try to throw the burning wreck away. But he stops you, gentle even in his bewilderment. He holds her as delicately as a child, even as I hear him ripping wide apart with the knowledge of what you have done with him, how he has been used. Is it better to forget, or better to regret? Remember, remember, child who lives and outlasts. But never regret, for what's done is gone, by and by, though it rests in the bones of memory. I hear him sobbing, feel him shudder; my face also is streaked with the warmth of honey-tears bleeding from my empty sockets. There is little more that I can do for him, not while I still must deal with you. The shield holds him as well. Now is the time. Fortuna, guide my hands. My substance alters in accordance to my will, changes to become transparent to the host. I am become a web like you, the better to snare you. Where we touch, there is more than pain. My fire consumes your threads. Your threads absorb my fire. We cancel each other directly, and I will purge you. This is so inefficient, but your host will live, may recover. That is my desire in your place. I myself losing coherence. But are burning. Passing again through. Farewell, Joy, Raphael, 'Raelf, ar'Elya... Jameson, Nescie, Dieter, Coral... Nireen... ...and Master. May the Beacon. Shine. Forever. ---- Comments, compliments, and complaints can be conveyed to... Bernie Hsiung (bshsiung@eecs.umich.edu) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] Life at the Court Message-ID: <1993Jul7.002828.17536@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> References: <1993Jul6.044149.14513@midway.uchicago.edu> Date: Wed, 7 Jul 93 00:28:28 GMT Palandun slid into the docks at Pashar. Actually, the ship Palandun was on slid into the docks, Palandun's only active part being trying to get out of the way of the sailors while fighting down an attack of seasickness. "I thought you islanders were bred to the sea?" The Captain said while helping Palandun up. "Most of us are. I grew up on a mountain and never traveled further by water than an interisland jaunt until I was eighteen." Palandun gulped and managed to look surprised at getting all that out without gagging. "Usually 'mokay, but sometimes I get a little...ill." "Well, we have your bag and are ready to put you ashore." The captain said, sympathetically. After all the procedures of disembarking and customs (which Palandun got through by a mixture of intestinal fortitude and his ambassador's credentials) the bismanian lay down on the ground end of the dock for a while, hoping no one would try to mug him. Eventually a carriage pulled up and an important looking person stepped out, scanning the dock. "Excuse me, scum," the important looker asked a nearby dock-strutter, who looked as though she was trying to decide whether to show her wares to or punch said important person. "Did the Bismanian Ambassador pass by here?" "I'm him." Palandun said, struggling to his feet and showing his credentials. "He's him." The dock-strutter said and laughed her way down the street. Neither of the two left found it terribly funny. "What were you doing lying there?" I.P. asked. "Trying not to throw up. Who're you?" "Sh'lahan, the Sarahan's personal undersecretary for foreign affairs regarding visiting dignitaries, third lord of Pashar." "Oh." Palandun said, "Palandun Lintesul. Pleased t'meet cha." There was a little pause while they both figured out if there was something they should do next, Sh'lahan coming up with an idea first: "This carriage, if you would honor us with your esteemed presense, will convey yourself to the Court, and the presence of our Most Illustrious Shaheran." "Sure." The Bismanian said, climbing in. "STATE YOUR NAME FOR THE RECORD." The bailiff/master-at-arms/Lord Chamberlain /*Something* didn't exactly shout, but projected his voice rather nicely. "Palandun Lintesul?" Palandun said, not exactly sure any more. "STATE THE NAMES OF YOUR FATHERS." the *something* continued. "I only had one father, his name was...um...Thalion Lintesul." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] Life at the Court, Part II. Message-ID: <1993Jul7.103155.22208@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> References: <1993Jul6.044149.14513@midway.uchicago.edu> <1993Jul7.002828.17536@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Wed, 7 Jul 93 10:31:55 GMT ADMIN: This was origionally going to be all one post. In our last exciting episode: > "STATE YOUR NAME FOR THE RECORD." The bailiff/master-at-arms/Lord Chamberlain >/*Something* didn't exactly shout, but projected his voice rather nicely. > "Palandun Lintesul?" Palandun said, not exactly sure any more. > "STATE THE NAMES OF YOUR FATHERS." the *something* continued. > "I only had one father, his name was...um...Thalion Lintesul." And now: "STATE YOUR TITLES." the other continued. "Titles?" "Your titles, you know, your rank. The thing that makes you a nobleman." "Oh. I don't have any. Nobody from my country does. I'm an ambassador if that helps." "I'm afraid not, that's the next question. Are you sure you don't have any titles?" "Military rank? No? Rats." "Come now, what were you born?" "A homo sap male." The *something* didn't particularly care for this answer, but took it. "STATE YOUR BUSINESS." He boomed. "I come looking for a fugitive. A slave trader by the name of Gunther Toodie. He is wanted in generica for selling several citizens into slavery, including his wife." "VERY WELL, DOES THE SHAHERAN GRANT AN AUDIENCE?" The boom was followed by a loud gong. "Walk this way." The man said. "If I could walk that way, I wouldn't need a doctor." Palandun quipped to himself. "THE SHAHERAN OF RAMESHAN, RULER OF THE MOST ADVANCED KINGDOM OF NEXUS, ALL TREMBLE AND FALL FLAT UPON YOUR FACES." Some kind of Grandaddy boomer said after Palandun had staged himself in the throne room. The rest of the entorague promptly hit the dirt, Palandun elected to remain standing. "Well I guess you aren't going to call me 'kid,' anyway." Palandun said, striding up to the throne, "Pleased t'meetcha, I'm Palandun Lintesul." The Shaheran stood 5'3 and looked to be about fourteen years old. A very annoyed fourteen, to be sure, but still fourteen. "Lord Emsy," the child looked at the prostrate Boomer, "Would you please instruct our...guest on the proper rules of Court ettiquite?" "CERT-" "Don' bother." Palandun interrupted. "Shaheran, you wish me to show respect? In my country no one is respected until they earn it and no one is bowed to, ever." "You are in my country." Palandun had to admit, he had a point there. "I gotta admit. You got a point there." The Bismanian bowed deeply, from the waist. "I am satisfied. Rise, subjects." The Shaheran ordered. "Now, Ambassador, what is it you want?" "I'm chasing a fugitive, a man who traded slaves in generica. He is wanted by the courts there." "I thought slavetrading was illegal in generica?" "It is, that's why he's wanted by the courts." "Well then, if our brother Generica wishes him, he shall have him. You have the full support and cooperation of this government. Lord Emsy, show the ambassador one of the apartments. You will meet with my chief of spies after dinner. You will join us for dinner, no?" "Sounds like a plan." "A plan it is. We will see you then. This audience is ended." With that, the child got up and walked off. MagicHutchHeader From: corleyj@helium.gas.uug.arizona.edu (Jason D Corley ) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: [Pitzar] Message-ID: <1993Jul7.203253.16137@organpipe.uug.arizona.edu> Date: 7 Jul 93 20:32:53 GMT I am currently working on a three-four part story of Jake Pitzar covering a war in Trarovia and Nilar. It will be here soon. "There are ten million stories in this naked city. The only problem is, nobody can remember which one is theirs." ------Laurie Anderson "Every finger in the room is pointed at me I want to spit in their faces, Then I get afraid of what that could bring, I've got a bowling ball in my stomach, I've got a desert in my mouth, Who figured that my courage would choose to sell out now? I've been looking for a saviour in these dirty streets. Looking for a saviour beneath these dirty sheets. I've been raising up my hands, Drive another nail in, Just what God needs, One more victim." -------Tori Amos, "Crucify" (also my mantra when I write this stuff: "One more victim.") -- "Seriousness of mind was a prerequisite for understanding Newtonian physics. I am not convinced that it is not a handicap in understanding quantum theory." ------Connie Willis Jason D. "corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu" is thought to be armed and stupid. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Kadrys: Blood Ties Message-ID: Keywords: And on the sidelines of another battle References: Date: Wed, 7 Jul 1993 23:05:01 GMT [ADMIN] This is posted for Andrea Evans. Sorry about the delay, Andrea. There was the faintest trace of a smile on Kadrys' lips as he walked away from the deserted alley, with its clothesline swaying empty in the wind. The sheer physical challenge of the tightrope walk had been a valuable exercise, had helped concentrate his mind, focus him on the essential nature of his struggle: to remain human and open to emotion without becoming lost in grief, to remain detached and calm without becoming a callous monster. The stilling of the rain as the afternoon mellowed toward evening, also returned some lightness to his step, made him look less like a drowned thing. But then a mood of unease, a dim and distant sensation of worry, suddenly dawned in him. Kadrys frowned, searching his own feelings. No. This was different from his own grief. Almost as if it was not his own feeling at all. As if it came from an outside source. His frown deepened. 'Strange. I'm not at all telepathic, not unless...' His eyes widened. 'Not unless I count the resonance...' The resonance: A residual link between himself and his most recent contact, the person whose blood flowed strongest in his veins, who was the source of his own life. While he was awake, he might feel in his own flesh an echo of events affecting the other body, or might sense their strongest emotions or thoughts in his own mind. He had known such bonds to lead to even stranger things during the times his body lay at rest in the earth... But this resonance was extremely rare. He only ever felt it when there had been exceptional mental and spiritual closeness during the taking of blood. Only with those he loved. He drew a deep breath, the worry he felt now plain in his face. _Kardia_. If it was true, if he was resonating to her, then she must be frantic about something. He paused, irresolute, and then it hit him. A thin pain in his side, faint but precise. Reflexively he glanced down, but of course he was not wounded. He gave a hiss of anxiety. She was hurt. He could feel it. He cast aside all doubt, his eyes glazing as he turned all his attention inward, searching for the source of the pain that throbbed in the veins between his ribs. There. He turned as surely as a compass needle, and vanished in a blur of unnatural speed. He slowed, staring up at a building that might have come out of M. C. Escher's most warped nightmare. The Mages' Guild. Oh shit. Ancient, inground caution brought him to a halt at the foot of the stairs. Who knew what sort of wards they'd have in place here. He'd probably start to burn as soon as he touched that damn revolving door. But the dull ache in his side had not faded. No time. He _had_ to try. He reached out and brushed his fingers against the doorhandle, his whole body tensed to leap backwards. Nothing. A youth pushed past him, grinning superciliously. "You work them like this!" he sniffed, pushing the revolving door and vanishing inside. Kadrys snarled and bombed through the door, the tension still screaming in his stance. Still nothing. No wards, not against undead anyway. Well, at least _one_ lucky break today... He drew a breath and the scent hit him in a hot wave. Instantly he sprinted across the hall to the small knot of people beside a counter. He slid through the bystanders, coming to a halt beside some woman he did not notice. He was utterly focused on Kardia. *** Earlier, Dasham had been looking daggers, swords and axes at Urcohea's back as he left the hall with Coral and the rest of his team. The next instant, Leonaco had appeared with a soft *pop* of displaced air and hurried straight over to the main reception desk, peering with interest at it and at the shawl someone had dropped on the floor nearby. He muttered to the receptionist, "Just reset the doors so they open onto the side entry hall, would you? We don't want any spectators, not until we've rebooted this thing..." He leaned over the desk and started to scan the readouts. Dasham cleared her throat, as pointedly as a dragon about to breathe fire. "Leonaco, there's a _person_ here who needs some attention. My cursebreaker. _Now_, if you please. The comms board can wait." Leonaco blinked over at the injured woman, apparently noticing her for the first time. "Well, can't you just heal her then?" he asked Dasham briskly. Kuso and Tomas watched in fascination, wondering just how much more Dasham would take before she exploded. She ignored both of them, fortunately, in her concentration on Leonaco. "_No_, not without unacceptable risk. She's cybered." Leonaco hurried over, his initial glance at Kardia intensifying into real interest as he examined her cybering, muttering down a handheld comlink to his chief journeyman. "Jaren. Mix up a fresh canister of biosynth C, soonest. 'Port it to the main hall, with a full set of applicators and skinseals. Yes, got a bulletscore and a cracked rib up here. Ohyes, and mix one of the ampoules Tero was working on into the batch, the contact paindampers." Dasham stood and watched impatiently as Leonaco and his journeyman started work on Kardia's unconscious body, gaining access to the site of her wound by pushing up the side of her blouse to her armpit. Dasham's eyes narrowed with speculative interest on seeing that all the skin visible was crisscrossed with dozens of deep and ugly weals, the familiar marks of a whip, wielded with the haphazard, careless brutality of a slaver. But the marks were old and long healed, dull whitish scar tissue without a trace of inflammation. The wound itself was a long shallow gouge in her skin just over the ribs. The shock of the bullet had cracked a rib right underneath the gouge and Leonaco's journeyman Jaren, a painfully thin man with bristling brown hair, was plastering the site thickly with a clear gel that halted the bleeding, before drying to rock hard opacity. Jaren spread the gel patiently round her ribs beyond the site of the wound, sealing it against infection and immobilising her entire side, so that the rib would be able to heal itself without being disturbed by undue movement. Just then the doors spun. She glanced over, drawing breath to spit more questions and accusations at Urcohea. When she saw it wasn't Urcohea, wasn't even a mage, just some powerless prole, she fired a stare at him that would have made a basilisk weep with envy. Unfortunately it was wasted. He wasn't even looking in Dasham's direction. His eyes were riveted on Kardia as if she were the only person in the room. Leonaco also looked up when he heard the doors. He frowned in surprise, wondering how the newcomer had managed to arrive here instead of in the backup reception hall. He sighed and shook his head as if resigned to having _all_ his artifacts fall victim at the same time to the whims of Murfee, the god of Technogadgetry. And the next instant the new arrival was hastening toward them. Too fast. Dasham stared at him, curious rather than worried, in view of his obvious lack of Talent. Then, he stopped, and spoke. *** Kadrys stood rockstill, insensible to everything around him but Kardia. The pallor of shock, the sheen of cold sweat, the distressed frown even as she lay unconscious. The shallow panting breaths. The accompanying creak of a fractured rib underneath some sort of plastering. He spun and faced the woman beside him, a hardfaced beauty with unlikely henna red hair who was staring at him through narrowed eyes. "What _happened_ here?" he hissed. Suddenly the woman blinked out of that assessing snare and snapped at the top of her voice, "_Move!_ Get away from her!" _Mages_. Damn them and their tinpot egos. Kadrys backed away, his arms held out placatingly. "All right, all right, this far enough?" he muttered distractedly, shifting his glance from the redhead to the others nearby, gesturing to where Kardia lay, "Now just please, _someone_, take care of her!" Dasham started to snap, "Why are _you_ so concer..." And then her cold green eyes widened, and she spat a curse that was dragged squealing into Kardia's shawl and grounded in a burst of black sparks. She gestured and menace crystallised out of the air, poised itself over Kadrys like an avalanche ready to burst. "You will not move. If you do attempt to escape, you will be _held_. I guarantee the experience will _not_ be pleasant." She glanced sideways at Leonaco, who was watching her closely, "...But I may as well save the mana. So I'm giving you a chance to speak first." "Dasham, what are you doing?" Leonaco muttered. "_Look_ at him!" Leonaco nodded tersely. "I can see he's a vampire. So? _You_ of all people should be used to mingling with undead, what with those researches of yours." "Not that!" Leonaco shrugged. "Well, yes, that age _did_ have me worried for a moment. I was afraid your cursebreaker had crashed the bioscanners on the doors as well as the comm-net. If anything, I'm relieved he really _is_ all that old. It means there's one less artifact gone down round here!" Leonaco frowned at her, a wonderful laconic stubbornness in his expression. Dasham went white to the lips. Her teeth ground almost audibly. Tomas and Kuso exchanged breathless glances. Jaren couldn't bear to look. Dasham drew a long, deep breath. "Look at him! Do it! Really _look_! Now look at her! Not at the godsdamn gadgetry, not at the wound, at _her_! NOW do you see it?" she howled. Leonaco's eyebrows lifted, and he stroked the side of his jaw, nonplussed. When he spoke, his voice was speculative. "Hmmm. Her blood. In him..." "YES! He's been draining her dry! This bloodsucking bastard OWNS her!" She whirled from Leonaco to Kadrys, took one step forward and stabbed a finger at the vampire in a single smooth motion, pure and practised. The sudden *CRASH* of lightning echoed in the hall, louder than the all-too-recent gunfire. The bolt leapt across the room and struck, twisting into Kadrys' guts. As he doubled over, Dasham watched with glee, one hand raised to release the containment spell she'd poised like a boulder over his head, in case he tried to retaliate, or run. "Now, I'd like to know _precisely_ what you and this little Trojan nag of yours had in mind. Just what were you planning on doing to me, under cover of _supposedly_ breaking my curse? I'd really like to know what it was," she purred, "because I'd like to do it to you. Tenfold." And then a blurry voice came up to them from the floor. "Whatthehell d'you think you're _doing_ to him?" Kardia had been jolted back to awareness by a sudden shattering bang. She had flinched, thinking at first that they were still firing at her. But the next instant she realised that someone had been tending to her instead. Her side was immobilised in some material as rigid as plaster, but as soft as flesh to the touch. She assumed the stuff included some contact anaesthetic, since her entire side was pleasantly numb. But her still-groggy attention was drawn by the sound of Dasham's voice, savage with delight. Kardia turned her head with a little effort, saw Dasham staring at Kadrys. Kardia switched to her othersight, saw the mass of compulsion looming over Kadrys like a tsunami about to break. Somehow, Kardia fought past the numbness and the stiffness of the plastering, found the breath for protest. Dasham glanced down, smiling at Kardia's words. "How very touching. The slave pleads for her master's life." Dasham's reply hit Kardia like another shot. She cried instantly, a raw edge of revulsion in her voice, "_Slave_? I am NOT a slave. Not to him, not to _anybody_! Never!" Never again. Dasham snickered. "Oh no? Well just how _did_ your blood get into his veins? You're not going to tell me you just offered it to him without his even having to _ask_ you for it. 'Oh, no, _I_ wasn't enslaved...'" She whirled back to face Kadrys, "And _you're_ not going to tell me you've never taken over her mind, never glutted yourself with her blood. You're _not_ going to insult my intelligence, either of you, I sincerely hope!" She shook her head, smiling with grim satisfaction. "No, you'd better not tell me that. What you _will_ tell me, sooner or later, is what you had planned, the two of you. I think I'll start with you," she said, flicking a hand negligently at Kadrys. "By the time I'm through with you, your puppet should be healed up enough to take some questioning on her own. By the look of those scars, she's the experienced type..." Leonaco snapped "Dasham! You overstep yourself! You have no proof. And you certainly do _not_ need to go to any extreme measures to gain it. You're Acting Supreme Archmage, these days, so it's high time you started to _act_ like an archmage! Or don't you _know_ how to apply a simple truth-detecting spell to two unwarded people?" he added, raising his bushy brows in elaborate irony. Dasham stared for a long, long moment at Leonaco. His expression remained stolid and unmoved, somehow, in the face of her disbelieving rage. At last she broke the silence by turning her back on Leonaco, holding out her hand, palm upmost. A soft rustle, and a plume of flame unfolded itself in her palm. It burned with a clear white radiance, pure and untinged by yellow. "This is a tiny tongue of the Flame of Truth. Since it's your truth we're interested in testing," she tipped her head toward Kardia and Kadrys, "the Flame will have to be attuned to you, take some of you into itself." She crossed over the room, knelt and lowered her hand to the floor by Kardia's side. She tilted her hand, and the flame spilled onto the floor, onto the centre of the small, still-wet pool of blood the bullet had shed. With a faint sizzle the last trace of blood was absorbed. Dasham scooped up the flame casually and turned toward Kadrys. She held out her hand. "From you, we need some flesh. We can't use blood," she added with an ironic smirk, "It's not _yours_." Kadrys stared expressionlessly at Dasham for a moment, then raised a fingertip to his mouth, shaved a thin slice of skin as precisely as with the stroke of a razor, held it over the flame, which leaped to consume his offering. Dasham half-turned to face both him and Kardia. "You won't have seen this before, so I suppose I'll have to explain how it works. It's really quite _simple_. Now that the Flame is attuned to you, it will respond to your every word. If you tell the truth, the Flame will remain white, and all will be well. If you lie, then the Flame will instantly burn black. And I assure you that things will not be so well." She glanced at Kardia, who gave her a hard, cold stare in return. Dasham shrugged. "Go on. Test it, if you like." "My name is Kardia Xvaramene, and I was born in Generica." Kardia's voice was perfectly casual and offhand throughout, but the moment she began to say the word 'Generica', the clear white light vanished and a forked sliver of darkness writhed and leaped in its place. Then, the next moment, the light dawned, scaling upward rapidly from red to orange to yellow to its original supernatural brilliance. Dasham smiled at them both, a smile as bright as the flame she held in her hand. A vivid, attractive expression, unless you happened to look at her eyes. "Good. Since it's working, let's begin, shall we?" she asked Kardia with a bright, insincere joviality, "My dear, just how long ago did he enslave you?" Kardia snarled. "I _told_ you. He has _not_ enslaved me. I am _nobody_'s slave. Not his, not anybody's." Dasham's eyes, fixed triumphantly on the flame, narrowed when it continued to burn white throughout Kardia's reply. But her smile did not, quite, falter. "Well proabably _enslave_ is too strong a word. He _persuaded_ you then, didn't he. Or you _chose_ to go along with his plans, because of his hold on you." "He didn't persuade me to do anything. He doesn't have any hold on me." "Oh? But he has been drinking your blood. Recently. How did _that_ happen?" "At the Founder's day party, we were attacked by a demon. He fought it, when he could've run and left me to it. After the fight, well, he was injured, and in need, and I felt as though I owed him _something_ for having defended me. So I just offered him a drink." she concluded, her voice pointedly casual, implying that Dasham was overreacting. The flame continued to burn tranquil and white. "And that's _all_?" Dasham asked disbelievingly. "You're leaving _something_ out. You offered him your blood, so you _did_ feel attached to him. You must feel attached now. You must love him, you must be willing to do as he says..." Kardia's fists clenched, and she strained against the solid mass of the splinting, wanting to shout at Dasham, but lacking the strength and the full use of her lungs. She snarled with contempt at Dasham's stubborn refusal to accept the obvious, and her voice was sharp with exasperation at the mage's paranoid persistence. "_You_ don't believe this? Well neither do _I_! Are you deaf? For the last time, he's got no claim on me! He's _just_ a FRIEND, goddammit!" Kardia was glaring at Dasham. Dasham was fixated on the flame in her hand, watching unsuccessfully for even the slightest trace of blackness. Neither of them saw the flicker of pain pass across Kadrys' face. The sound of Kardia's cry seemed to echo mockingly in his ears. The contempt in her voice, her scornful disbelief at the very idea that there could ever have been anything deeper between them. His anguish at that moment was too intense for his usually perfect control. Then, somehow, the mask of calm was dragged back in place. But that was all it was: no more than a mask. He had only just composed himself when Dasham spun, almost desperately, to face him. "Did you plan anything at all which would have been of any detriment to me?" "No." "Do you know anything about any such plans?" "No." "Did you know she was a cursebreaker before you defended her from this demon?" "Yes." "Did you have any ulterior motive for saving her?" "Yes." "Ah now we come to it! What was your motive?" A long, long pause. "Speak, or suffer!" Dasham gestured, and the air tightened around him, merciless as a vice. "What was your motive?" "...I love her." The words were forced from him in a hiss of air being crushed from his lungs. "I wanted her to love me." Dasham frowned skeptically, gesturing for the pressure to relax. "But why go through the trouble of that fight to win her over? Particularly since it's failed!" she sneered. "Why didn't you just use gaze, make certain she would love you?" "Because I wanted _her_ to love me. I wanted a lover. I have never been interested in slaves." His voice edged with sarcasm, he added, "Sorry to disappoint you." It was not until the end of that final sentence, that the flame flashed briefly black. Leonaco interrupted "Well, Dasham? I think we've heard more than enough to know that there _was_ no plot against you. You've wronged both these people." A pause while Dasham stared at the fire in her palm. Then she clapped her hands together with a sudden sharp crack, loud enough to make Kardia blink, trapping and extinguishing the flame. She nodded in slow, expressionless silence at Leonaco, before turning to face Kadrys and Kardia. She gave them both a soft, rueful smile. "Leonaco is right, and I was wrong. I misjudged you both. I can only ask you to forgive me. The life of an archmage is full of peril which often comes from the most unlikely sources. I am obliged to guard my safety ceaselessly. You will understand, this is always a strain, and if you were at the party, then you may know of - recent events - that have made my own personal stresses more acute. I apologise sincerely for any inconvenience my doubt caused either of you." She turned to face Kardia, knelt by her side, laid a gentle hand on her arm. "And in partial recompense, I will equal out of my own funds, whatever payment 'Raelf had settled on for the loan of your skills in breaking my curse." Kardia's expression, though it did not match Dasham's sad smile, at least lost its earlier hard, combative edge. The tension relaxed from her posture and she nodded in assent. "OK. Thanks for that. I'm glad you see it our way now." Kardia reclined back against the hard surface of the desk, suddenly exhausted, feeling the splint as an unyielding mass weighing down her body. Dasham peered concernedly at Kardia, sighed with sympathy. "You need some rest. I think that since it was Urcohea's staff who mistook you for a saboteur, then the least the Guild could do is provide a more comfortable place for you to recover than a cold marble floor." She looked up. "Jeril, go to the Infirmary and prepare the most comfortable bed for our guest." Jeril nodded and vanished. "Tomas, report to Urcohea and tell him we have remedied the effects of the -- overeagerness of his staff. Kuso, you shot this poor woman, the least _you_ can do is levitate her, _gently_, and personally take her to the Infirmary, since her cybering makes a 'port risky." Tomas left in haste, and Kuso summoned a standard levitapestry and helped Kardia to lie on it. He gestured and the tapestry rose gently off the floor, hovering by Kuso's side as he slowly left the room. Kardia rode comfortably, allowing her eyes to close in relief and weariness. Kadrys watched her out of sight, hearing her breathing deepen toward sleep, deciding not to follow just yet. Better to let her sleep. Dasham turned to Leonaco, her expression serious. "I think that since Urcohea's not back yet, he may need some skilled assistance. Anything that keeps our - combative - Security Archmage so fully occupied that he doesn't send messages, could be serious. Recon and see if some of your artifacts can help." Leonaco paused, then nodded. Hefting his scanner and scooping up some other pieces of arcane equipment from where he'd dumped them on the reception desk, he left the building. And then, only Dasham was left in the room. Dasham, and Kadrys. Kadrys nodded fractionally to her and moved to leave. Dasham flicked her hands, and the crushing pressure returned full-force, sealing his body in a grip harder than stone, immobilising him like a fly in amber. Instantly, he reached for the mistform, then his other shapes, but all of them were denied him. As Dasham drew near, his eyes blazed at her with the red flame of desperation, brighter than her hair. She only widened that damnable smile. Inside, he cursed. _Warded_. Why not? She'd had ample time while they were talking to prepare herself for this moment. Dasham reached up a hand, delicately traced the pounding line of a vein in his temple. "Now why were _you_ leaving in such a hurry? Surely we can get to know each other a little more - intimately?" She gestured, and both of them disappeared. The polished marble walls of the empty hall echoed to the miniature thunderclap of their departure, and then all was silent and still. MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roger] Leaving Home is Easier than Going Back Date: 8 Jul 1993 00:45:55 GMT Message-ID: <21fqo3$7ik@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> Horn blasts echoed behind them as the four companions raced through the woods, dodging between trees and leaping rocks and stumps. The horn blasts died off, and they ran in silence for a minute before the horns started up again. The silence was broken when the Grunts found their fallen comrades and sounded the pursuit. The four turned towards the west, heading for the forest's edge and the city beyond -- Generica. They continued to run for hours, varying the pace to ease aching muscles and burning lungs. There was no sound of pursuit, but the unspoken agreement to push on had been passed between them. It was dark when they finally reached the edge of the forest, and they collapsed upon the ground, utterly exhausted. "I can't keep going," Roger said between gasps. "Neither can I," echoed Giarr. "Come on, let's set up camp on that rise," Endo said, rising to his feet with a muffled groan. The four stumbled over to a low rise just outside the clearing, and set up camp. Camp consisted of dropping their packs on the ground and using them as pillows before falling asleep. As Roger felt sleep slip over him, he had a nagging though that they were forgetting something. ----- When the howls of frustration awoke them, Roger remembered what it was they had been forgetting -- the watch. The edge of the forest was lined with Grunts, howling and cursing in rage and frustration. Occassionally, one would approach, only to scream in pain before retreating back among the trees. Apparently, they couldn't leave the forest. "We should go," said Kayell. His point was emphasized as one of the Grunts launched a spear. It embedded itself in the ground a few yards in front of the group. The four grabbed their light packs and jogged to the west, leaving behind the Great Forest and the Grunts. "On to Generica," said Endo. Roger spoke a few minutes later, "Do we have to go back that way?" The three elves looked at each other in dismay. "Yes. In fact, through the forest is the _only_ way back," said Endo. "I was afraid of that," said Roger. ----- The Jolly Roger aka Brian Shea aka taz@athena.mit.edu Comments welcomed and appreciated. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: mwasson@nyx.cs.du.edu (Gecko-boy) Subject: [Edwin] Preliminary ponderings Message-ID: <1993Jul8.025758.5654@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Thu, 8 Jul 93 02:57:58 GMT Edwin chose a table near the wall and sat down. He took a long draught of mead, wiping the flecks of foam from his beard with the back of his hand. It was decently good -- not like back home, but full-bodied with a distinct flavor, a hint of bitter under the fermented honey. He could grow to like this city, leagues from home though it be. He settled back in his chair and eyed the crowd. The Dragon's Inn was full that evening, or so it seemed to Edwin, and the customers were as varied as they were numerous. He was having trouble adjusting to this feature of Generica. Everything -- and everyone -- seemed so foreign. At the table directly before his sat a man draped in scarlet robes, his face shadowed ominously within a cowl. He matched Edwin's conception of how a Saracen might look, although Edwin had never actually seen a Saracen. Nearby sat a group of five extremely short men, all of whom could have been twins of the others, with identical beards that reached to their laps. They sat on tall chairs and were shouting boisterously, all at once. Edwin realized with a start that these were dwarves, exactly of the sort one heard about in fairy tales. At another table sat a man with a ledger opened before him. Next to the ledger stood a wooden frame, about a hand's breadth wide and twice that in height, with a cross piece dividing it into two unequal sections. Small beads were strung in rows across each of the two sections. The man would shuttle the beads back and forth, then scratch something into the ledger with his quill, and he did this over and over, very fast. He wore a look of intense concentration. Edwin tried to think of a rational explanation for what the man was doing, and failed, mystified. There were other patrons who struck Edwin as equally peculiar. A man dressed in leather armor, with a long sword sheathed at his belt, and jet-black hair falling in curls to his shoulders -- who turned out, on closer look, to be a woman. A group of pale, slender folk chattering together in a language that sounded like nothing so much as birdsong. A woman who held a mechanical device of some sort, like a music box. She appeared to be whispering into it. Edwin drained the tankard of mead, set it down on the table. He was exhausted. The flight from Avelard had been grueling. The memory of it, now, was a blur of days: driving his horse over snow drifts, pressing onward, always, to the next town, the next country estate, till finally he had reached Generica, this strange bustling city. The next step was to find allies. He needed to establish himself; the best way, it seemed, would be through feat of arms. [Admin: This will merge with the Roger thread. Much thanks to Brian, and to Liralen (hi Lir'!)] -- | Mike Wasson (mwasson@uhunix.uhcc.hawaii.edu -or- @nile.ics.hawaii.edu) | | University of Hawai'i at Manoa / Software Engineering Research Lab (SERL) | | (setq *standard-disclaimer* t) ;; "I'm not angry, just sleepy." | MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Kadrys: The Price of Freedom Message-ID: Keywords: a skirmish is joined. References: Date: Thu, 8 Jul 1993 04:29:03 GMT [ADMIN] This is posted for Andrea Evans. Dasham and Kadrys appeared in the centre of a windowless room, carved out of the dark-grey bedrock. In his company, she found herself appreciating its decor anew. She watched as he looked unsuccessfully for a way out; his eyes flicking round the room, from the multipurpose altar (useful, but the guttering was a devil to keep clean) to the bell jars, to the rack of tri-D recordings of her more interesting researches, to the vivisection table and its latest occupant. She grinned at the familiar, welcoming ambience. Homey. She gestured expansively round the room, as proud as any goodwife showing off her country cottage. "Do you like it?" she smiled at Kadrys, who neither moved nor spoke a word in reply. He simply stood, taut as a strung wire, but totally still. Dasham tsked and snapped her fingers, and the pressure of the containment spell she held him with, loosened. Just enough to allow him to inhale, let his jaw move. "...Lovely," Kadrys drawled. "Now I really should be leaving," he added in elaborately casual tones. "'Raelf is expecting me back, and I'm sure he'd be worried if I was late. Worried enough to think twice about fulfilling any contracts." Dasham chuckled. "But your little doxy told me that 'Raelf was outside, fighting some creature or other. I think he'll be busy for quite a while." She dropped the smile as abruptly as a mask. "And even if he isn't, I _strenuously_ suggest that you mention _nothing_ of what will happen to you here, not to him or Kardia or anyone else. Because if you did, then, as you say, they'd probably think of a way to renege on my contract. And if that happened I'd be _exceptionally_ angry. Angrier than I've ever been in my life. Even angrier than I was at my old teacher, and you saw what happened to _him_. Except that now I'd have absolutely nothing at all left to lose. I would commit _all_ of my abilities, all of the Guild resources, to _destroying_ them both. Maybe 'Raelf could survive that. Just maybe. But do you really think for an instant that Kardia could?" Silence. "I think you see my point. The only way you will save her is with that silence." A long pause, then a single, curt nod. Dasham smiled to herself. 'Good. Just as I suspected. He's too much of a calculating bastard himself to mistake my attitude for bluff. He'll keep quiet now. And that makes him _mine_. Mine to use, just as I want.' She stretched, languid as a cat. "It's getting a bit boring, maintaining that containment spell. I think I'll let the room take over. That's what labour-saving devices are for, wouldn't you say? Besides, I'll have _much_ more interesting things to do than personally making sure you stay put." She lifted her hands, and the pressure wave clutching Kadrys lifted his body, slammed him hard against the far wall. Dasham pulled a crystal rod out of an elephant-foot umbrella stand, touched a spot on the floor. A pentagram flared whitely on the stone behind him, and Kadrys was drawn into the wall by its power, his limbs spreadeagled into its four lower points, his head in its topmost apex. Miniature threads of lightning, slow white worms of electricity, crawled and twisted along the surface of his skin, netting him, pinning him flat against the wall. Another specimen. Dasham nodded to herself and dropped the rod back among the thick bundle of its fellows. She clapped her hands together and rubbed them, an odd gesture reminiscent of an old teacher starting a day's lessons. "Now, the first thing that strikes me is that your _friend_ Kardia didn't show up as having any Talent at all, until we removed that shawl of hers. Maybe she wove you something out of a similar fabric. Silly me, I forgot to ask her. But I can't have you holding out on me, hiding any little skills, now can I?" She muttered {Heisenberg/Adams: Sartoria = x + 1m}, and Kadrys' clothes vanished instantly, reappearing in midair about a pace in front of him. For a moment they even held their shape, before collapsing in a heap. Dasham eyed him leisurely up and down. Slowly, a leer twisted one corner of her mouth. "Well, no _magic_, fortunately, but quite a bit of hidden talent in _other_ areas..." she laughed. Then, the laughter trailed into silence, and the smile faded from her lips. Dasham moved, stalking toward him like a lioness closing on her prey, making her intention explicit in every line of her body, in the merciless heat of her stare. She stopped, standing right before him, no more than a foot away. She shrugged her shoulders and her robes unravelled at the seams, fell piece by piece to the floor. Kadrys' eyes flickered with momentary surprise. She made sure that she was standing too close for him to see her hands, notice the way her fingers stiffened, curving slowly into claws. Suddenly, her hands moved in a blurring underarm arc, struck and clenched with all her strength. Kadrys hissed, his fangs bared in a grimace of unexpected agony. Dasham stepped away, freeing her hands with a final wrench. Her long sharp fingernails had not been lacquered, but now they were stained red anyway. She raised her hands to her face, and lingeringly licked them clean. "Lesson one," she purred. "Don't expect me to be nice." She selected a flask in delicate magenta glass, filled with her most potent formula. As she unsealed it, the scent of its contents rose, rich and spicy. She poured some into her palm, waited until the last traces of his injuries had disappeared, then stepped in close to him. Once more she reached out, cupping a palmful of the rare oil. Again, her hands worked, this time for a much longer period. Longer than she had expected. But at last he gave another low hiss, a strangely similar grimace twisting his face. Once more, she stepped away, licking the oil from her hands. "Lesson two," she purred. "Don't expect me to be nasty." Kadrys gave her a flinty black stare that more than repaid her for the one she had given him when he entered the Guild hall. "Look, let's just drop the lesson charade, shall we?" he snapped. "A woman in your position'd have access to plenty of toys, without picking me. This is about more than just some rough play, isn't it." He nodded grimly into the moment of silence. "Yes, I remember the little rematch you mentioned, with your old master. He used you because he wanted to live forever. And that's why you're using me: to find out how I've survived as long as I have." He sighed with annoyance. "Well none of this was needed! Tell me, Dasham, has the thought of _asking_ instead of _taking_ ever crossed your mind? You'd save yourself a lot of effort. If you'd asked me back there in the hall, I'd've told you what I could. Not that there's that much to tell. There's no magic tricks, no Big Secret. Just a sense of balance between the extremes, commonsense, emotional proportion. A willingness to accept what life dishes out, when you can't change it. And a lot of luck. Summon that truthfire again if you don't believe me." Dasham gave him a slow, ambiguous smile. "That's all very interesting, but there's a lot more information than that in your memory. Information I could _use_." She grinned sarcastically, "...And don't even _think_ of tempting me to break in after it. You'd have too many memories for an intruder to deal with." She ran her hands through her hair, sighed. "It's all too frustrating. And I'm not used to being frustrated. Whenever I am, I like to - _work_ it out of my system." She paused, assessing him with a long glance. "I always find," she resumed, speaking now in a strange purring parody of a teacher's didactic words, "that education is a good way to relieve stress. Particularly when it's mutual education. I'm going to learn something about who I am and what I like." She stepped closer to him, smiled lecherously, "And you're going to learn a thing or two yourself..." --- Time is a subjective thing. An eternity can pass in an instant. An eyeblink can extend into forever. So, time passed. How much time? Who can tell? How can the passage of time be measured? In events. Experiences. Images. --- Dasham sat, still naked, on the floor, staring intently into the depths of Kadrys' eyes. Her fingers tangled themselves in the black silk of his hair. Her head lowered, her mouth opened, and her lips claimed his in a slow, passionate kiss. Her tongue thrust into his mouth, probing teasingly at the cruel sharpness of his fangs. She broke the kiss, came up for air. Sitting back, she let Kadrys' head just rest gently in her lap. She stroked his hair softly away from his brow. A brooding look as her eyes met his again, and a long, long sigh: a dry, weary sound. "Well, lover, I suppose that answers my question. I guess it just doesn't do it for me anymore..." She looked up, staring across the room to where the rest of Kadrys' body still hung, dripping, in the pentagram. --- Dasham settled his head on the raw, oozing stump of his neck, watching with clinical interest as the butchered flesh writhed like the lips of a sleeper, drew itself slowly together, rippled and sealed. She watched with particular intentness as his body shuddered, and his eyes became once more windows of his soul, rather than glazing lumps of gristle and jelly. She was especially fascinated by that first moment of profound shock. It was far more intriguing than the hatred that followed as soon as his eyes focused on her. She forced herself to meet that stare, show him what she felt. It was strangely difficult for her, now. "I wanted to - apologise." She wrung the last word out with an effort, glanced away. Her mouth set in a thin line as she made herself continue, her words coming faster, abrupt and harsh with agitation. "I wanted to tell you I didn't enjoy what I did. I would have once, but now I don't. I'm sorry." All at once she fell silent, staring at the spatters of blood on the floor. The low, bubbling chuckle, eerie and faint, dragged her eyes back to his face. "You're sorry. Well, hell, that makes it all just fine, doesn't it. It all never happened, right? All that blood's going to vanish off your hands and go straight back into my veins, is that it? Let me get this clear: you sawed my head off, just to see whether you'd get a _kick_ out of it or not? And telling me that, is supposed to make _up_ for it?" "No, damn it! You don't understand at all!" Dasham shouted, reflexively raising a hand that burst into flames. Then she grimaced, dropped her hand, and the fire vanished as quickly as it had appeared. "I had to _know_," she said, her anguish and confusion vivid on her face. "The old man was dead, but I didn't feel any better. I felt... Empty." She turned away and crossed her arms, almost hugging herself. "Just empty. I had to find out if lifting his geas made me - different. I had to do something he would have loved, something I used to like, and see if I still felt the same way about it. That's why I chose you. Not only because you were old. You were undead. You could survive it." She turned back and looked straight into his eyes. Her previous uncertainty had been replaced by a look of wonder, a strangely open expression, "...And because of you, I know now. I'm _not_ the person he tried to make me. I'm _free_." She picked the crystal rod out of the bundle, touched another invisible spot on the floor. The fire of the pentagram snapped out of existence and he dropped out of that sprawled stance, heaved an instinctive sigh of relief as the imposed tension visibly faded from his muscles. "I'm not going to keep you prisoner, not now..." she murmured, dropping the rod and taking a hesitant step toward him. "I wanted to - apologise more fully. You said earlier that I couldn't just put your blood back, and you were right." She stared at him, summoned her resolve. "...But I could give you some of mine." --- Kadrys froze. His first impulse was to roar with laughter, pound her with caustic derision, watch her wilt. He could almost hear his words, as clearly as if they were already echoing round the red-spattered room: 'You want WHAT? Ohhhyes it's always that with you, isn't it you selfish bitch! You want you want you want. Well I'll tell you what _I_ want! I want blood, you're right about _that_. After what you've done to me, I want to drain _somebody_ just about dry. Somebody. Anybody but _YOU_! I'd rather take the filthiest most stinking beggar, the scabbiest leper, I'd rather drink _rats_! ...Ohhhno, the only way I'd ever touch _you_ would be to drink your lifeblood, drain you to the last beat of your black heart. That, I _would_ like. Very _very_ much. Is that what you're offering? Somehow, I don't think so.' ...But he was held by the look in her eyes, something he had never thought to see in her: a reaching out, hesitant and timid as a whipped girl. He caught a distant echo of what her earlier life must have been, under such a master. The hatred writhed and clawed in him, fighting. But it weakened. From somewhere deep inside an answering trust, in that moment as hesitant, as scarred by the past as hers, rose in him, forced his lust for vengeance down. He drew a long, slow breath, his dark eyes inquiring. "You really mean that, don't you..." he murmured. Her own breathing caught, and her eyes widened a touch. She nodded. "Come here then." He held out a hand and Dasham took one step, then another, then flung herself into his arms. Her hands, still wet with his blood, closed across his back, and the warmth sank deep into his flesh as his pores opened to absorb it from her skin. He knotted a fist in her thick red hair, drew her head slowly back from where she'd buried her face in his shoulder. His head dropped to her neck, as swift as a striking snake. The sudden force was brutal, but the moan that escaped Dasham's open mouth was not a response to pain. --- Ecstasy. Fangs buried in flesh. Life, flooding and filling everything. A shared extremity of sensation, laying one mind open to the other's embrace. Darkness. And somewhere, a faint, invisible current of sardonic amusement. *** Well, it seems you finally managed to get inside my head... *** Dasham blinked and looked around, unsuccesfully trying to see him. "Where are you?" *** All around you. You're in my mind, remember. Where you wanted to be. In a manner of speaking, anyway. *** Dasham sent a pulse out, trying to find any memory traces. She frowned, perplexed. It was like shining a torch into the night sky and expecting to see the same circle of lit objects you see when using the torch in a room. *** That won't work. I'm insulating you from my memories. You'd still need my help if you wanted to come back in one piece from what's out there. And I'm not about to give it. Some things should be private. I'm sure you wouldn't like me taking a wander through your memories. And besides, what I said earlier was true, about there not being any easy answers, any big secrets to survival. You know it's true. We're close enough now, that neither of us can get away with lies. *** Dasham nodded. "So it really is what you said. Emotional balance, commonsense, acceptance." *** And luck. *** She grinned. "And, as you say, luck." She widened the grin, into another expression he had never expected to see on her. A smile. Expressive not of sarcasm, agression, bitterness or lust. Just happiness. Happiness at what she had learned, that she was now truly no-one's slave. That she was free to be herself, to heal herself of the last scars of her old master's influence. Kadrys could feel her sense of how strange the expression was for her. He let her know his certainty that soon that particular smile would come naturally to her. Again, she murmured, "I owe you for that knowledge." *** You've already paid. *** She nodded, stretching and relaxing. The feeling of her newfound mental and emotional freedom, was in this place a tangible thing, a lifting of an intolerable burden. After a moment she sobered a little, sighed. "You said earlier that privacy was important. I couldn't agree more. I haven't tried to break yours again. I... I need to know you won't tell anyone what happened. I need to come to terms with who I am now, and I'd rather nobody knew how badly I treated you. If they knew that, they'd never believe I've changed." *** All right. I'm glad your reasons have changed so much. *** Dasham could feel him preparing to release his hold on her mind. "Thanks for that. And for being in the wrong place at the wrong time," she smiled ruefully. *** When Kardia wakes, have a quiet talk with her. You two have a lot in common. I think you could get along. *** A tang of irony underlying the words. Dasham frowned a little. "That Kardia." She shook her head, looked around her at the enclosing darkness. "She doesn't know what she's missing!" Silence. *** Yes, she does. *** --- The darkness disappeared and the room swam back into focus as Kadrys raised his head from Dasham's throat. As he dressed, she watched him distantly through the afterglow, noting that the angular, starved look he had shown since her - experiment, was reduced but not quite gone. She guessed that he had taken less from her than he had lost. It made sense: she felt quite languid, but no worse than that. He finished dressing and glanced intently around the room, evidently probing with all his senses for signs of a doorway masked by illusion. She grinned a little, muttering "There are no physical entrances here. The only way in or out is by teleport." He arched an eyebrow at this, but remained silent. She added, "Is there anywhere in particular you want to go?" He considered. "Just outside the front doors will be fine. I feel like a walk at the moment." She nodded and concentrated. It took quite an effort for her to summon the mana to 'port him out. --- In the quiet, cold hour before dawn, the Inn's front door opened without a sound, and Kadrys slipped into the taproom's familiar warmth. He resumed his usual seat, stared into the flames in silence. Something in his downcast features as he sat with his chin cupped in his palm; something in the wide, empty fixation of his eyes, was very much the same as it had been during the darkest moments of his recent imprisonment. The only thing missing was the wound. The external wound. MagicHutchHeader From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roaming] Interlude One Date: 8 Jul 1993 18:28:06 GMT Message-ID: <21hovmINNrc4@news.gac.edu> In the southeastern corner of Generica lie the Slums. This is a strange place. While its inhabitants are not as hopeless as those of, say, the Low City, they still seem to lack a certain fire. Most have enough to survive; these people are not at the edge. But neither is there an excess of wealth. The outside world doesn't interfere much, and the inhabitants ignore it and each other. Apathetic would be the best way to describe them. Slummers simply do not care. But that is changing. Their veil has been sundered; something is moving in the night and taking advantage of the obscurity. He lacks the power of a first-class threat. But give him time, he will mature. And what better place than among the dreary and oblivious who dwell here...? *** Fredrick was finally done with work. Old Olson had gotten a new shipment today and expected everybody to stay and help take inventory. Like there weren't better things to do on a Friday night. And better company... A sound from nearby interupted his musings. Was that the skitter of paws across cobblestone? Was *something* out there? With a slightly high-pitched laugh, Fredrick continued on his way. It was simply his imagination fueled by his frustrations. The stories of monsters haunting the alleys and sewers of Generica were oldwives' tales to keep rowdy childern in line. Why, everyone knew, for instance, that T-crocs never came out of sewer grates looking for dinner. Look at that grating. Look closely. I am sure it is securely fastened. It wasn't. Teeth exploded from the darkness, enveloping Fredrick. He never had time to scream. Matt C. guardian- 1. one who has care of a person or property. 2. In other words, someone who puts their ass between others and danger. ****************************************************************************** Nuke 'til they glow, then shoot 'em in the dark! Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader Date: Thursday, 8 Jul 1993 16:49:18 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93189.164918344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] Welcome to My Parlor [ADMIN: Once again, a group effort, with heavy thanks to Joe Carl & Dan Peters...] Suddenly, without any sort of warning, Yosef stopped the group, pointing and saying "This is the house." But looking at the place, calling it a house would be paying it a huge compliment. It resembled nothing as much as a pile of rubble that gravity and time had been kind to only in the sense that there was a sign of it at all. Kaalzic summed up the general feeling of the party adquately: "Are you sure?" Yosef only smiled, and said "Trust me." before stepping towards the house. Tarkyn and Kryalla exchanged a nervous glance at the words, but followed along with the others. Their only real action was to increase their already high caution as far as Yosef was concerned. Darvos narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized the area. "There is more there than meets causal obversation, my friends. I believe Yosef has led us to the correct location." As they approached, the "house" grew more and more disarrayed. Not only that, but a smell emanated from it, a disgusting combination of dried blood, dust, and rot. Lancos wondered if even Gutt Man would want to be seen in such a place -- only the child-killer might find it the least bit appealing. The effect lasted until they were within a few feet of the door. Looking around and at their feet, they realized they should have been walking on rocky ground, but the path was as smooth and solid as the Plaza of Glittering Steel. "An illusion!?!" Arienne exclaimed, communicating what all had by now at least suspected. And even after it was discovered, and disbelieved, she found the illusion was still somewhat there, providing an uncomfortable layering effect in her vision. She shook her head slightly, to adjust herself, and to wonder what they were up against, that could do something like this. Through the discovery and adjustment, Yosef only kept his smile, and in fact it had seemed to widen a bit. "See, I told you!" "You could have warned us." Tarkyn remarked dryly. "And we _are_ entering by the front door, not exactly the subtlest measure." Yosef shrugged. "It's the only way I know of." None missed the irony that the sentence might be a fitting response to both of the young ranger's statements. But likewise, none spoke of it as they entered the doorway, preferring to concentrate on readying for what might lie ahead. They crossed as one, acting as a team despire their relative lack of familiarity with each other, coming into a dark room with only a few lanterns to serve as light. "Still, it's weird that with this depth in the other senses, he wouldn't do so for touch as well." mumbled Lancos. Lack of sleep overcame him temporarily, as he did not realize that he had said this aloud until another voice responded from the darkness. "Oh, but usually I _do_. And there's also usually barriers to enter. But I expected you guests, and of course want to make you comfortable. Speaking of which, I'd bet you'd like a little... *_light_*". At the word, the lanters around the room brightened, illuminating the area almost completely, although shadows still loomed. The group saw that this room was in condradiction to the scene outside. It was highly decorated with ornamental rugs and works of art, and with daemons and all the opponents that they could put names to: Gutt Man, Myrnien, Parsiphulas, and Velric. All possessions, displayed before them regally, lighted with a sense of pride. "And now for me." And a second later, a half-circle of red lights appeared, surrounding a throne, and the person upon it. Even though he was seated, they could tell he was fairly tall, with a thin but well-muscled frame evident beneath his robes. He had straight black hair and matching eyes, eyes that seemed to pierce into one's soul, even when the man only causally looked at them. He carried the features of someone nearly if not quite purely human, with a rounded jaw and a flattened nose. This, it would seem, was BBD. "Come forward, now. I've lowered the defenses, and can see no reason to reinforce them, if we can work things out." BBD smiled at this, knowing that in fact he had just raised the barrier to the outside, and that even if his "guests" agreed, they would get more than they bargained for. He hated loose ends, and was confident that after tonight, he needn't worry. BBD's words and dramatic use of light were lost on Kaalzic, whose attention was entirely given to Myrnien. She hadn't changed very much in appearance in the last ten years -- but Kaalzic had never seen such a haunted look in her eyes. Taking a step forward, he said some words in a language unknown to any of his companions: "'Nien ha'lkin etweil-m'nall'ha." Myrnien's eyes widened in shock, and she started to respond, but then she appeared to think better of it. "Well, Myrnien, how nice of your brother to stop by for a visit." said BBD. "Brother?" Arienne questioned, looking to Kaalzic for conformation, but receiving none due to the mask hiding his features. "Yes. I always _do_ enjoy family reunions." BBD sneered. "But now that that little pleasantry has been dealt with, perhaps we can all turn to the matter at hand." "So, what do you propse?" Lancos asked, slipping into his negotiating mindset. The war-mage only smiled deeper. "Simple: you go your way, and leave me and my associates to ours. I have what I want from Lissa, and my future plans do not include you. So, we end all confrontation, and operate as if the other did not exist." Velric flinched ever so slightly as BBD mentioned Lissa. 'You may be done with her, but I'm not' he thought, and BBD gave no indication of noticing. "What about Myrnien?" Kaalzic demanded. He was, at the same time, surprised by BBD's knowledge of who he was, confused by Myrnien's silence, and angered that his attempts to speak with her had been so abruptly swept aside. "Oh, she's happy here, with me. Isn't that right, my dear?" Myrnien paused for a second, and then slowly nodded her head. She eventually found her voice, albeit a cold, mechanical-sounding tone. "Yes, BBD is correct, my brother." "How touching." BBD sarcastically remarked. "So, are you convinced?" The group stared at each other for a second, locked in thought. Darvos remembered how these people had hurt Lissa. They had kidnapped her and abused her in order to take her blood. These people were monsters and he couldn't let it pass. Kryalla was already fighting Arcania and her minions in her plane. And, if she could help it, they wouldn't even _threaten_ Generica. Kaalzic _had_ to talk to Myrnien. He couldn't imagine why she would have allied herself with these villians, but she deserved a chance to explain herself. Lancos had joined in part because he wanted to make sure evil couldn't tempt him again. He felt he had to prove himself versus a foe like this, so that his betrayal in Ak'Irneg would not haunt him so much. Tarkyn's sense of honor told him he could not simply walk away. Plus he did not feel that he could trust the likes of BBD's men. Arienne saw before her the general embodiment of why she had begun conducting her own style of revenge. To her, these men had been abusive in many ways, and had to be taught a lesson. Nearly simultaneously, they shook their heads negatively -- even Yosf, who perhaps was angry at being a prisoner, though his grin was still present. "Very well, then, have it your way." A mass of foes rushed at the group without BBD's verbal encouragement, daemons and more human enemies charging at them with a ravenous look in their eyes. BBD sat back and watched the event in amusement. He cast the occassional spell, but it was more out of whim than need. He wouldn't get heavily involved unless they proved tougher than he originally estimated. Yosef's grin became inhumanly wide. "Good -- I've been waiting for this." he said, his voice deepening as he spoke. In a completely shocking move, he began changing, his fingers elongating into claws, his skin turning red and warping and blistering. He became a daemon, one more grotesque than even his counterparts, and set upon Arienne and Lancos in an instant. But a bow shot from Tarkyn distracted Yosef for a second, allowing the duo to adjust to the transformation and move out of the way of the attack. Yosef ignored Tarkyn, preferring to chase after Arienne, while the young ranger drew the attention of Pars, who knew he must put up a good fight to stay in Arcania's good graces, such as they were. Meanwhile, Gutt Man had spotted Lancos, and charged at him. The child-killer smiled in absolute delight, knowing the warrior could not effectively draw his weapons in time to block his knives. Kaalzic dodged a blow from a daemon, and responded with a jab of his long-knife in the monster's belly. To his surprise, the strike was effective. He then came upon Myrnien. "'Nien, we have to talk. I can't believe you're involved in something like this." When the woman's only reply was laughter, and a swipe at Kaalzic's head, the artist prepared to defend himself as best he could. He quickly found that avoiding his sister's sword took every bit of his concentration. Darvos and Kryalla stood next to each other, casting bolts of power at the Thurlans. They were holding off the daemons fairly well until Darvos' eyes meet Velric's. "I shall finish you this time, fool!" Velric yelled. Then figures of shadow ushered out from behind him -- creatures with tiny pinpoints of red for eyes. He then stepped back into the shadows and disappeared from sight, letting his shades do his work for him. Darvos' eyes went wide. "Don't let them touch you! Kryalla, you must hold these lesser daemons off of me while I deal with the Shades he has conjured." ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu AKA Lancos Erredan MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Thread Synopses Message-ID: <21ivk3INN6ki@news.gac.edu> From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Date: 9 Jul 1993 05:27:31 GMT This is a bi-weekly posting, courtesy of your local chapter of Net-Addicts Anonymous. Any contributions to the Synopses can be sent to the e-mail address below, using the following form (stolen with all due credit to Alan Smith ). -Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur ******************************************************************************* Peace through strength! Victory through annihilation! Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ******************************************************************************* --- [Thread Name] First Character (adress) Second Character (NPC) Third Character (Adress) Fourth character (General/thread NPC) Based out of: base location. Quest: single sentence describing task. Synopsis: A paragraph or so describing the thread. A note on NPCs: A plain NPC is a subordinate of the PC described just before. A "Thread" NPC is one useable by any member of the thread, a "General" NPC is one useable by anyone in APDI. --- [MG] The Mage Guild thread (previous incarnations and relations to: [R] Rameshandar thread, [MI] Moriarty Investigations, [Mage Guild], [Storm]) writers and characters: Kelly J. Cooper (kjc@cs.rutgers.edu) Jameson W. Walker Andrea Evans Kadrys Bernie Hsiung (bshsiung@eecs.umich.edu) Dariel (and most of the rest of the Mage Guild when necessary) Aaron Humphrey (temporarily aaronh@ersys.edmonton.ab.ca, currently no access) (You _really_ want me to list _all_ his characters?! Oh, man. Uh...) Alfvaen/Elstree/Lassiviren, Bronwen, Maleiu, Mistletoe, Ornigan, Teonyl (I've probably missed a few, but not all of them were directly involved.) The Dreamer (asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Luthor Anside, Little Rat (and a host of others) Penny Hutchison (penny@agora.rain.com) ar'Elya hat en 23 (Silver Warrior) Steve Hutchison (hutch@hutch.it.intel.com) 'Raelf het ae 25 (Raf, Lex, Kev, Orim) Phyllis/Liralen Li (li@inigo.data-io.com) Kardia Xvaramene, Joy NPCs (mostly thread NPCs, Archmagi available on a lending basis): The Big Bad Guy: Mar (and R) of Third The Mage Guild: the Archmagi (Dasham, Delalle, Fauteuil, Leonaco, Nescie, Rivy, Thorn, Urcohea) others (Dieter, Coral, Gwaliostrok, Nijorik) miscellaneous: a good lot of the rest of Generica including but not restricted to Amaan, Delmara, Grumbli Blisterthum, Slim, Moriarty, Queriche, ... Based out of: all Nexus, but mostly Generica and environs of late Primary Quest: To find and undo the works of the Reaverschild Mar. Synopsis: There are a huge number of subplots in this thread. Not all of them are mentioned in the synopsis, and, of the ones which are, most aren't given anywhere near as much exposition as they deserve. (Hint: which characters are named above but not below?) This is a "big picture" summary. Some battles are petty and meaningless. Some battles are universal and perpetual. One of the latter is the War between the Keeper of the Beacon of Hope and His sworn enemy, the Reaver. These two struggle against each other in all existences, in every reality. The Keeper fights for the continuation of life. The Reaver fights for the ending of all things. Often, their battles are subtle and go unnoticed by the inhabitants of the Places in which they War. But sometimes, they become explicit and a few individuals working on either side may turn the tide... Dariel, a Servant of the Keeper, arrives in Nexus on a mission for his Master. Shortly after disposing of several rebellious Servants, he is found in the Rameshandar desert and trapped by the mage Amaan, who plans to tap Dariel's abilities to increase his personal power. Enroute to Generica by sea, Amaan's ship is attacked by pirates, and Dariel escapes. He imprisons Amaan in turn, and speaks with Death, who tells him that the way to Nexus is open to the forces of his Master's enemy. He resolves to seek out one who understands the nature of the Place where he is, in order to learn how to best apply himself, should he be needed. Meanwhile, there is much turmoil in the Generican Mage Guild. Supreme Archmage Delalle, the head of the Guild, has isolated himself from the daily running of the Guild to meditate -- for the past twenty years. During this time, the Guild has suffered a number of crises that have led some of the other Archmagi to believe Delalle has been irresponsible in his leadership. The main pressure to have Delalle replaced comes from Thorn, the ruthlessly ambitious Archmage of Politics. But Delalle is loyally supported by Urcohea, the Archmage of Internal Security, who has been authorized by him to act as Supreme Archmage in his absence. Urcohea hires Moriarty Investigations in an attempt to gather evidence about Thorn's underhanded dealings. At the same time, a tiny fragment of an once-powerful Reaverchild named Mar floats into Nexus and awakens. He arranges events to establish himself in the body of Nescie, the brilliant but relatively inexperienced Archmage of Education. He begins to draw power to himself, primarily by murdering forgotten gods, and uses it to construct new deities that favor his reality. This does not go entirely unnoticed, though Mar is very cunning in his application of energies. The signs of a disaster of unimaginable proportions is written in the stars, though the essence of the struggle obscures its precise nature. When Dariel reaches Generica, Delalle emerges from his seclusion to greet him, and it is revealed that Delalle's withdrawal from the world was in preparation for Dariel's arrival. Mar's activity in Nexus is correlated by an oracle that Dariel consults. Dariel's presence does not go unnoticed, either, and he is contacted by the 'Kan Travellers ar'Elya and 'Raelf. Several of Mar's new godlings are neutralized with their help. Yet Mar himself remains elusive, and Dariel cannot find him. Though Nescie is heartened by the unexpected appearance of his friend Jameson, Mar's usurpation of his body causes him to feel ever increasing amounts of stress, and he is unable to determine the true cause. Delalle loses his position as Supreme Archmage, although the vote is very close, and, in fact, the balance is tipped because of Mar's influence on Nescie. Shortly thereafter, Mar destroys Delalle, but fortunately Delalle has already passed on to Dariel all of the critical information that he has collated. Perhaps emboldened by his success, Mar then creates an avatar named "R" to ambush and eliminate 'Raelf, but miscalculates and fails to win a total victory. R is left with a tangible piece of Hope enmeshed in his form which Dariel can use to find him, and hence Mar. R flees to Mar, who has invested too much power into R to risk losing him, and he takes them to a place he had previously created, where they await Dariel's arrival. The stage is set for the final act... (Or, at least, the one that resolves the Primary Quest. There are quite a few subplots and consequences that aren't anywhere near resolution. Which means I'll have to write a significantly different synopsis next time to let you know what they are.) ******************************************************************************* [NTY] Palandun (arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu) Ja'nis (NPC) Gunther Toodie, Dawg the Dragon, King Glorrin (Thread NPC) Based out of: Dragon's inn, Generica. Quest: A description of the adventures of Palandun the Bismanian during his stay on the continent. Synopsis: Palandun traveled to Generica to complete his graduate studies in biology, while there he befriended Ja'nis the warrior, who took a job under Gunther Toodie, a Gem-merchant. On a trip to visit the scource of Gunther's gems, Palandun was sold into slavery, He is currently escaping and finding a way to free the other captives. The thread has also encountered Jorma and Rackesh, other bismanians who are on the continent due to running away from an abusive family and being thrown in exile, respectively. ******************************************************************************* The Jolly Roger (taz@athena.mit.edu); Endo, Giarr, Kayell (NPC Sylvan Elves). Based out of: The Glade (cool name, eh?) Quest: The Ongoing Adventures of the Jolly Roger Currently: Gathering Info on the Suspected Threat to the Sylvan Kingdom ----- Background: Roger is a male physical adept from the Boston Sprawl on Earth, circa 2050 A.D. He is from the Shadowrun milieu, where high technology stands side by side with reemerging magic and monsters. After two aborted threads, Roger is now in this mini-thread. (Perhaps to become a full-blown thread in the near future.) Synopsis of [Roger] ----- "Well, ya see, it all started when I found myself in these foot hills out near the Great Forest. I was following this trail, wondering what to do, when I was attacked by this giant. "After takin' care o' that, I wandered a bit more. I got lost, so I climbed a hill ta do some recon. I spotted a grove of trees a ways off, and decided to go there. "Well, I climbed down and suddenly this arrow nearly skewers me. I ran off, and dodged a few more sniper attacks. I reached the grove after a near miss, and climbed a tree to set my own ambush. "After forever, these elves entered the scene. 'Cept they weren't regular elves, they were the green type. Ya know, sylvans. I got in a scrap with them, but there were three of them and they were fast, damn fast, and not too bad at fightin' neither. "Comes down to it, I saw I was gonna lose, so I surrendered. Well, they took me back to their place. Only, the place they took me was a city in the trees. Problem was that there was no way this could've fit in the glade, so I figure we passed through a gateway or into a pocket dimension. Somethin' like that. "I almost forgot to mention that the elves knew karate and bowed and stuff, and that the palace was just like back in Old Japan, and that they talked about somethin' called 'the Way.' Well, I learned my karate back home, and I'm good at it, so I guess they were curious. "Well, the elves take me to see their queen, and she invites me to stay and show them my stuff. So, I agreed. After all, the queen was pretty hot, even if her skin was green. "A month passed, and I got to be tight with one of the ambushers, name of Endo. One day, he tells me he has to go on a secret mission for the queen. Later, the queen asks me to go with them, to check out if the kingdom is being threatened by all these circumstantial little things that are going on. I agree, and then she adds that she wants me to look out for Endo, turns out they got something goin' on. "Well, we left a couple of days later, early in the morning, and headed for Generica to check it all out." MagicHutchHeader Date: Fri, 9 Jul 1993 09:52:53 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93190.095253ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Beginning of the End What Has Gone Before: A "pocket reality" has been discovered by Luthor and Erik due to its interference with the normal probability field in Generica. The pocket is anchored to a spot in the kitchen of the Spitting Cobra, a Low City tavern of violent reputation. ------------ "I'll get by with a little help from my friends" - The Beatles Serene touched a warm hand to Luthor's face. His eyes focused. When he saw his companion standing next to him, he flashed her a white smile. "Sorry, I was daydreaming again," he said, alittle embarassed. "That's okay. Do you need anything? I'm going to the basement to see if Trawm has anything in this bar asside from beer." "No, I'm fine, but thanks. You might want to check on Erik, he seems a little down." Luthor nodded in Erik's direction. He was sitting at a table with a deck of cards in his hand. From the pattern on the table, it appeared that he was about to win his twenty-third consecutive game of solitaire. Probability mages tend to find games of chance booring. Serene walked to his side. "What's the matter Erik?" she asked concerned. "What? Oh, nothing. It's just that we rushed over to the 'Cobra and now that we have everything set up, there is nothing to do but wait. I don't know. Maybe it's something more. Since returning to Generica, I've thrown myself into my work. Now that I have time to think about things...Maybe I'm just lonely." "Can I get you anything?" "How about a mate?" She laughed sweetly, "No, seriously. Would you like something to eat or drink?" "No, but thanks. I'm afraid of the kind of 'food' they serve here." He pointed toward a corner of the room where a dead rat lay next to a partially eaten bowl of a greenish-yellow stew. Serene shuddered. "Well, maybe I'll make a run to the market and pick up some fruit. Wanna come?" "No, I'd better stick around incase something happens." She squeezed his hand in friendship and left for the market. As soon as she was gone, Erik sighed deeply and turned half his thoughts to his game of solitaire. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- In the corner, a seven-and-a-half foot fur-loincloth barbarian fighter in a leather vest and bracers gently picked up Trawm's drooling, detached head. He walked over to the body (which was working on regrowing a lower jaw) and looked at the two of them. "Idjit halftroll," he chuckled, and drew a BLACK runesword from the sheath across his back. "Careful now," he admonished the sword, and trimmed the excess bits of flesh from the ragged neck of the head using the sword's razor edge, then carefully trimmed the excess from the neck on the body. With exquisite care, he stuck the head onto the body, and held it there for a few minutes while it grew on. "Good," he grunted. The eyes blinked but the words coming out didn't make sense. "Don't try to think, Trawm. Just lay there. Here, have a bheer." The barbarian took a full pitcher of Trawm's most trollish ale (if that brew could be called "ale") from a nearby table, and set it before the halftroll, who absent-mindedly sucked it all down then collapsed into unconsciousness. Luthor jumped when the cool, dry hand touched him on the wrist. It was attached to a short, seedy-looking fellow with large moist eyes and a clove-stinking cigarette hanging from one lip. He wasn't sure how he'd missed the reek of the thing, since the fellow had clearly been sitting there for a few minutes. "Excuse me, Mr. Anside, but I think my friend needs some of that nasty black stuff you have in those kegs there." Luthor blinked and pulled his hand away - he'd have to wash it now. "I'm not sure I've had the, ah, pleasure of your acquaintance." "Oh, but we met at your house party. My nom-de-guerre is Errol, I came with ar'Elya and the rest of her crowd." "I, ah, see. Who's this friend of yours who *needs* the Catamount?" "That would be H'ro, over there keeping Trawm from getting beside himself." The smoke from the cigarette wafted towards the giant barbarian in the macho leathers. "Do you know what's going on here?" Luthor demanded. "Certainly. Rafe has gotten himself caught up in another one of these foolish Great Battles (tm), and I seem to be caught up in the same thing. Rafe's timeforked himself. He seems to be going for number while I'm going for quality - I made just the one, but she's potent. You don't remember this, but my own fork brought you back from that ... extended vacation you went on." Luthor had a flash of memory - immense silver wings - and a complex sensation terminating in a burst of hope. A smile crossed his lips of its own accord. "Yes, that's the one," Errol said, forming a twisted little grin. "Hey, bheer," H'ro said, picking up one of the two kegs. It was far too light, even for someone as strong as he appeared to be. He growled and punched a fist into the keg. A hole appeared where his hand went in, and he came out holding a small glowing hummingbird. "Creep! You better not have drunk it all," he threatened, and let go of the bird. It flickered and 'Raelf was standing there, or weaving, as the case may be. "Only had the one. 'Scuse me. Gotta dump power. Clear, dudes," he said, and a white-hot arc of lightning jumped into the corner where the hard-to-notice person was sitting. "Ahh. That's much better." Meanwhile, the barbarian had opened the other keg, and was chugging the contents as if it was a regular mug. Luthor called out. "Erik, I think it's starting." Erik looked over to the many forms of 'Raelf and smiled. ----------- ADMIN: This post written by: Steve Hutchison Editing and additonal material by: -The Dreamer- Love and Peace and Strange Happenstances, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kring@physik.uni-kl.de (Thomas Kettenring) Subject: Re: ADMIN: Request for Tourists Guide Message-ID: <1993Jul9.140855.20178@rhrk.uni-kl.de> References: <21i7c8$bc@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> Date: Fri, 9 Jul 1993 14:08:55 GMT In article <21i7c8$bc@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU>, taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) writes: >I guess Alfvaen isn't back yet, but I need a copy of the Tourist's >Guide to Generica. Could someone mail me a copy? Or post it? I sent him one. Shall I take Alfvaen's job until he comes back? Answers per e-mail please. (That I'd do every week, and it would improve my CSL posting frequency too, being a reminder) -- thomas kettenring, 3 dan, kaiserslautern, germany I am the most humble person in the world. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu (christopher motherway) Subject: The amulet Message-ID: Date: Fri, 9 Jul 1993 15:54:42 GMT ADMIN: Sorry that my postings have been so spread apart. I contribute this to two reasons: 1) I'm STILL waiting for the [Housstorming] to commence and 2) my sysops has been in a "selective summer coma" and hasn't cleared space for postings until now. Last we saw the couple, Blaze had bought a golden crystalline amulet at the Bazaar... = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Blaze was sitting on the bed in a "lotus" position, staring deeply into the beautiful crystal she held in her hand. Since buying it, she was convinced that there was something to this amulet...something she could not put her finger on... Sir Lance then entered the room and stared at Blaze. This was starting to annoy him a bit. He could NEVER think of getting angry at his mate, but she has been trying to figure out that gem for a long time now. "Blaze," he said, which got her attention, "please, can you not give it a rest for a while. After all, we have to go to that suburb of Specifica of Furs today. Remember that they have those beasts who have been raiding their food storages for the past week now?" Blaze replied, "Oh,...I am sorry, beloved. It is just that...oh, I do not know...whenever I get this particular "magical" feeling, I have to find out what is creating it and why." Lance said, "I understand, but we must be going within the hour. I will meet you in front of the Inn and will have Thunder and Stardust ready for riding." With that, he exited the room. Blaze sighed and let the amulet dangle from her neck. She had been ready for some time now to head out, but the crystal distracted her. Before she left the room, though, she picked up a copy of the "Examiner" that Lance had picked up but had not read yet. On the front page, Jake Pitzar had scribed a story about...unicorns! "That is odd," Blaze thought. "The only unicorn _I_ know of is...is Sheryl!" Reading the article further showed that not one but TWO unicorns were spotted. Blaze began to think back to the time after the curse on Sheryl was lifted; Andrea had been in some sort of scrape and, when she and Lance enquired, she said it was nothing, and that she and Sheryl would be taking a walk. To "adjust", she said. This was QUITE some time ago. Suddenly, Blaze felt something...something warm upon her chest. She looked down...the amulet was glowing...glowing a bright gold, but slowly fading away. "Finally, a clue!" she thought. "A clue to this crystal's power!" She wanted to investigate further, but she remembered Lance and the bounty job, so she decided that her curiousity could wait another day. But, as she left the room and headed downstairs to Lance, she could not help but wonder WHY the amulet was glowing. She figured it started while reading the article, or while remembering Andrea and Sheryl. Perhaps, there is a link... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Middle of the End Message-ID: References: <93190.095253ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Date: Fri, 9 Jul 1993 18:07:23 GMT [ADMIN] Some more of what happens with the Trawma Team... >What Has Gone Before: >A "pocket reality" has been discovered by Luthor and Erik due to its >interference with the normal probability field in Generica. The pocket >is anchored to a spot in the kitchen of the Spitting Cobra, a Low City >tavern of violent reputation. Erik shuffled the deck of cards again, noting with bored anxiety that the cards were sorting themselves into suits and ranks again. He cut at a truly random instant and the card came up Queen of Hearts. Which changed before his eyes to Queen of Cups, then Queen of Wands. Across the room, that oversized barbarian fellow punched a hole in one of the kegs of Catamount Porter that Serene had found, and pulled out a hummingbird made out of light and fire. The bird changed, becoming a somewhat drunk-looking blond mage who shed a tremendous burst of magical energy into an ? unoccupied ? corner. No, there was a person there, but it was hard to want to see him. "I COULD SEE WHO THAT IS" Erik murmured, and suddenly his eyes stopped sliding off the person in the corner. He was floating, inside a small storm of broken probabilities, over a mechanism that resembled a flower, a rose, not a lotus. For a moment, Erik was looking straight into the Element of Air, then a second later, into Fire. The person floating was a half-cat humanoid, seated in the kneeling position that Erik had seen Serene assume when she practiced her fighting style. Power was running into the catman, from three different places, and then from the catman, a channel of what had to be pure thought, approaching the sphere formed by the hole in space, but not going in through that entry, it went a different way. He stood, and went a little closer. A warm hand touched him on the shoulder. "Hey, dude. Don't get too close, the environment inside of that corner isn't elementally stable and you could get hurt bad." "'Raelf? What's happening?" "Like H'ro said to Luthor. We're fighting one of those stupid Great Battles. You know, the kind where if you lose, everyone loses?" Erik winced. "What can we do to help?" "In about three minutes, you can use your Shadowmagic to help tip the odds in our direction. My otherself has managed to convert the part of the enemy that he was fighting, but it hasn't taken a name yet, so it could still be stolen back. And Dariel and the Silver Warrior are holding off the other two-thirds of the enemy, but that place is so small, and it wasn't built to permit anything other than our defeat." "The possibility has to be there for Shadowmagic to make it happen," Erik said, frowning. "If it's not possible we can't help." "That's the point - between Silver Warrior, Dariel, and the Flame that my otherself took in there, the place has been lit up with Hope, and Hope is one of the great sources of possibility." "We're running out of time then. Luthor! Quickly, we need you," Erik moved like wind towards the man in the BLACK cloak. 'Raelf followed close behind. Luthor had the Gem of Chaos in his hand, the glowing red stone tangling among the timelines. "What's up?" Luthor looked up from the model of the city, Errol behind him visibly resisting the temptation to try and fondle the Gem -- such a large, beautiful stone. "'Raelf says we can do something. There's a focal point coming in a few seconds, what's the nature of this battle, 'Raelf?" Erik sat and touched the Gem of Chaos with his fingertips. "The battle between Hope and the Reaver. Push on anything that could improve our chances of winning. I'll open the conduit for you." 'Raelf pulled out a short staff, holding it just above the sphere of bent space, and chanted in a voice like wind <>. The sphere grew larger before them, inside they saw a diorama view of six - no, seven, or maybe eight, figures... four were humans, clearly, but two of the humans were interthreaded with a blackness that reeked, the black of impossibility. Three more figures had the outward image of humans but their fires were more intense and their light was greater than a human could contain. The last two humans, one was a woman, a mage by her aura of power, the other was threaded through with light and crystal and a swirling glow. Luthor and Erik began their Shadow Working, drawing on the Gem... "HOPE ..." time froze in the sphere, the human threaded through with light and crystal was slowly loosed from the bonds of the crystalline entity, and it moved away, leaving him human again, falling into the woman's arms. "... COULD ..." a body coalesced around the crystal and the swirling glow, a golden man with the form of an angel lit within by a blinding-bright Flame. "... WIN ..." in the commons room of the Spitting Cobra, a tonsured hermit with the attitude of a prophet had caught the attention of the massed priests, and was leading them in prayer. "... THIS ..." time within the sphere resumed its movement, the goddess fell, the newformed angel took a Name, and two of the humans, the mages, fell out of the Gateway into the room, Errol and H'ro helping them to a bench where they could collapse together; the goddess was Healed. "... BATTLE!" possibility coalesced from never, and the man with the wings of Power stepped _through_ the first of the humans who were threaded with the blackness of impossibility, and wherever he touched, darkness was consumed by his Light, but Light was lost to darkness. In the end, two who had been human remained, and shards of light, and the Silver being touched the walls of the sphere. It burst. The room was suddenly filled - three figures bright with power, two crumpled human wrecks, and scattered around were feathers. The silver figure nodded thanks, and took the goddess and the healer by the hand, and they vanished. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Things Seen in a Mirror Message-ID: References: <21co4n$ppk@zip.eecs.umich.edu> Date: Fri, 9 Jul 1993 18:24:56 GMT [ADMIN] This is a joint post, written by me from plot and idea given by Penny Hutchison. She also did editorial comments. I began to collect Power over ten years ago, repeating this short, looped month of time across a hundred twenty different timetracks, building truth, reality, into the shaping of the Silver Warrior which I have made myself. No longer can I choose my roles, for I am in a Place where only Hope dwells, and there are none here but myself and my reflection. The Beacon I lit has been burning for all this time, and I know it has reached the Keeper by now. I am no longer what I was, and I wonder if I can return to that self. All my aspects bind into this one truth. My mate does not come here, though he knows that I have made this choice; he has taken the knowledge from his mind so that our strategy will work. The ReaversChild will not know of me, and therefore he will be unprepared. Four minutes from now the Time will come around again, and I will no longer dwell in this same cycle of days. My Power is sufficient now, I will not return to my past again. I will return to Life. I hear the cry, my name called in fear and loss, and I step across the Worldlines, knowing that my otherself also heard, and that she is gathering the other kinds of Power I will need for this task, beyond that which I have been collecting; I quietly send thanks along the lines of gestalt. She is close to frantic; my own fear and anger has been growing since my return to the Places of Life. I am there at the ambush site. <> -- my cry goes unheard, the wall is between us. I am joined in the same instant, by the Seeker Dariel who has learned to be a Warrior, and we find that between us the wall is still impervious. My mate has twisted the War inside, and I cannot enter because I have taken on the aspect of Hope and their battle is in Creation. Dariel speaks with the mages as they come running up to us, and the woman, Coral, feels fear and devastation at what her mages' vision is showing her: the infestation of her husband by the entity spawned by Mar. I reflect the Light into her, strengthening the Hope she feels, so that she can join in the battle. Four seconds from now, the wall will be struck down. I extend silver wings, moving into the place between Places, and when the echoes of my mate strike down the walls from the inside, I move. His strategy is insanely risky, and my heart breaks for him even as I focus the Light upon the body he now shares. Light bursts from inside in answer to Light and the fragment of Mar screams its pain. A thread leads to its place of refuge, it dives into the thread. I follow, by the Roads Beyond, and enter into the Place before Mar is able to fully go inside. The walls and curves are constructed to constrain Dariel. Mar never expected _me_ and so I extend my Light to fill the darkness, I seize the lines of time inside the small pocket of attempted reality. They appear, entering via the death of another innocent. In my future timeline I see myself step back through time to slice the razor edge of my wing down between R and the innocent waiter, stopping the wave of utter destruction before it can send the man spinning off to the nothingness that never was. The woman of the ankh takes him aside gently, showing him his broken body on the floor, and in my future past, I have already gone backwards, to free my mate from the avatar's chains. I return my attention to Now. Darkness twists around and through this Place. The dark twisting is Mar. He has Jameson Walker - a guest of my House, and he has impaled her in his needles. Dariel is here, trying to fit his Seeker's wings into the tight curves of this space. Coral has come riding in his Light, but this is a place of Darkness... Again I fill the space with my own Light, standing between Mar and Coral. Joy comes in a rush of thunder as the flickering of a thousand butterfly wings, and Mar strikes her to wound. My light blunts his claws, and his first strike does not kill. The darkness hungers - Dariel is trying the futures, looking for a way to heal. (I see Mar throw off splinters, as he was once thrown off himself. I catch them and twist, filling them with light, and all but one of them dissolve to dust and never-was; the last one turns to Flame and Light, and I hold it, a seed of something new to plant in the Beacon of Hope.) But while I was catching splinters, the ReaversChild has again struck at the goddess of Joy, and she is injured unto dissolution. Time - my mate has somehow seized the threads of time and holds their battle, long enough to unwind the avatar of Mar from Dieter's body, healing the holes left by the threading of his shards. <=Mar tries once again to strike Joy into the Dust but this time I am between them, and I turn his blow back upon itself; he tries to send the shock into his host, but my Light follows the blow, and it dissipates. He cannot turn his attention to me, Dariel assails his power, he must keep his victims held up as shields.=> I turn - my mate has consumed most of his own essence to build a body for the avatar, and Coral and Dieter are trying to leave. I Light the way for them, a connection into the place upside-top from where we are, and they arrive out-above. My mate casts loose the threads of time, no longer strong enough to hold them, and Joy begins to dissipate. In his fear and hope the avatar of Mar chooses a name, he is become Raphael the Healer, and his touch knits up the rents and makes whole the broken wings of butterflies and moths. An infinity away and two steps from where I stand guard, Mar is being defeated. His gambit with the Walker of the Onari has failed: Dariel has made the choice that Mar could never understand, and has stepped _through_ her, and consumes the threads of the Dark in his own Light. I grieve at their suffering, holding my own Light as a shield around them, keeping this Place from popping like a bubble and destroying us all. There is more of Dariel than there ever was of Mar, but when he has burned away the blackness, there is only enough left to weave a sending the size of a bird. I extend my pinions, cutting the braces that hold this Place in its odd turning, and the reality implodes, sending us out along the lines of being into the squalor of a bar in the Low City. MagicHutchHeader From: kjc@aramis.rutgers.edu (Kelly J. Cooper) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Picking up the Pieces Keywords: ding dong the witch is dead Message-ID: Date: 9 Jul 93 22:41:20 GMT "I don't mean to appropriate your consciousness, but I think this is supposed to be my reality." through me calling me he stepped his call through me birdsong i am like a remember lost let go baby we were let go crying can't violated memories i remember crying we are butterflies floating lost he's dead i can't pulled apart something i can't i see feathers i can't see find it he's crying floating lost it's lost something everywhere crying hurt visions is lost light catching no tears memory twisted full of each strand no lost something is light every glowing eyes i can't crying where i falling softly lost in see lost like snow the dark screaming static in this i'm not scattered light crying it's something is lost its crying falling apart falling away the glass container shattered he fell (Nescie?) feathers everywhere i picked them up soft some had my blood on them i had a handfull people staring (Strangers) kept finding more as my left eye healed i could see better found a whole bunch and i could hear it crying to me i had to find it push back memories they are not mine (I died) crying softly like a baby in the garbage crying i found it and picked it up all the feathers faded in but it was having trouble breathing (Blood) it was crying but it had no eyes and i pulled the light out of me where i glowed and i took it and wrapped it around the bird and it stopped stoppped crying started breathing easier i held it and rocked it to sleep little bird little white bird of hope nobody hurt you now i gotcha people staring i left staring staring but he had no eyes i left (I ran) found a place to sit here with the bird i will take care of him make him better and when he is well (Safe) he can fly away he will remember how to fly i remember i could fly once i remember flying i remember i died (I remember) I remember. I died. The rock is hard. The bird's body is warm. His heart beats faster than anything I have known. The sea changes color. Waves move steadily, like the blood of my body. I can feel the surface of the rock, rough beneath my clothes. Someone has put clean clothes on me. I can feel my body slowly healing. It itches. I touch my memories. Staccato. Machine gun. Too fast and hard. Too bright. I stop. I breathe steadily. It helps me think. The light gets brighter and slowly fades. The sea changes color. I touch one memory and it unfolds. Dinner with Nescie. Touch. Smooth skin. Interrupted. Broken. A boy and his name is Dieter. But his eyes are empty. He. It. Part of Nescie. Who is. Not. Nescie. Mar. He hurts me. I pause and notice the wind brings different smells now. Light. Blood. Anger. People tangled together. Bleeding white light. Crying. He hurts me. I can't. Make it stop. Cool breezes touch me. The sea is dark, glittering faintly. Silver flames. Dariel. Wings everywhere. Bright. Bloodstained. Weary. I dance on the end of barbed-wire puppet strings. Darkness floods me. He looks into my eyes. He reaches into me. And there is Light! The pain falls away. It is simple agony now. I can understand it. Comprehend it. My body handles it. Faint light makes the surface of the rock look jagged. I can feel each thread of the cloth touching me. Where we meet is chaos. A boiling sea. Anger. Peace. Horror. Acceptance. And they are named. Dariel. Mar. Sliding together. Falling apart. Dissolving. Nescie's mind. Stretching. All pass through me. And I can see. Like a bright image on my retina. Like the sun burned onto my eyes through my eyelids. But this will never fade. I watch. They die. Left to myself I fall to my knees, watching Nescie cry. He is an outline. Inside the outline is another image of himself. Within that, he is reflected again. And again. To infinity. He looks up at me. And like a mirror breaking, his reflections shatter to hundreds of shards. Each piece holding part of him. The darkness pales slowly and is reduced to shrinking shadows. So much. There is so much here now. In my mind. And I can't. Function. Until I have it. Have it sorted. Collated. I have accepted things. So many things. Twisted. Bent and broken. But I absorb. And I am trying to do it again. But I don't know. If I will succeed. Perhaps I will fail. There is a strange sound, beside me. It is familiar. The voice of a man. I listen, but the words don't make sense now. Perhaps later. Something. Within me. Is growing. Whirling, twisting, flowing like a tornado sliding across the earth. I can feel myself. But I can also feel. Changes. Splinters cracking. Cleaning cobwebs. A hurricane instead of a broom. The ground is cracking. My sky is torn. I am restless. Yet I am still. Insects make a dull music, bass line to the ocean's rhythm. My skin warms slowly. The knowing. The waiting. It's over. I could taste the texture of nightmares coming. And they were here. Inside my head. Wrapped around my heart. In places I thought were safe. Nothing is safe. Everything is sacred. I am adrift, but not lost. Within me is the memory of such destruction. I almost cannot touch it. It is wrapped around. Woven through. Creation. I feel the landscape changing. Slowly. Too fast. I am changing. I can't see. It's fragmented. But the pieces are a puzzle. And I will make them fit together. Even though I am afraid. I stop thinking about it and watch the sea. My heart listens. The rock is hard. The bird's body is warm. The color of the sea changes. --- Jameson W. Walker (as presented by Kelly J. Cooper, kjc@cs.rutgers.edu) [Admin] Sorry about the forced page break, but I wanted everything in one screen for ya'll. Thanks for the feedback, folks! MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] You Can Still Rock in Generica Message-ID: Keywords: SPOILER FOR BBD -- HOLD OFF UNTIL READY References: Date: Fri, 9 Jul 1993 22:25:22 GMT [ADMIN] WARNING -- This contains spoilers for the BBD thread, so if you're following that thread, you might want to save this to read in a few days. Also, it's another of those joint productions, this time me writing with Mike Sander. Spoiler-protection page break follows: 'Raf kept a casual scan of the crowd, looking out for signs of Reaver twisting. The battle was happening right now, and he was the focus for the emotional charge of Power that the band was evoking. If Mar had set up any kind of backup plan, he'd be attacking here. The satyrlion stepped down from the stage at the end of the song, pleading a need to visit the euphemism. Not exactly, he was full, but with the energies he had to focus back to the Anchor: 'Raelf, the main timeline, who helped keep paradox from dissolving them all into random elemental noise, and right now he was collecting the flow off the Ley Lines, the magical heartbeat of all of Nexus, and the flow from the World Gate, the network of wormholes and paths to alien infinities that was powered by the unravelling of a thousand thousand black holes, which was sending him a miniscule amount of the power the Gateways managed. And then 'Raf himself, channeling the pure emotional charge from the crowd and the deeper power that it drew on, the will and belief and spirit of sentient beings from all over Nexus. 'Raelf was going to be one sore kitten the next few weeks. So far, there wasn't a trace of Mar's interweaving anywhere nearby. Just then, 'Raf spotted a familiar face, in a green forester's habit: Lancos Erredan. For a moment, he was glad to see his old friend again. But then caution woke -- Mar had chosen an innocent bystander once, why not strike through a friend? So, he watched the ranger, and the woman with him, using not just his own elemental perceptions, but the physical empathy that came with his satyrlion body: 'Nothing there that shouldn't be. He's still got that amulet... Hm. Good thing he wasn't around yesterday -- who knows what we would have done to him, he's animalistic enough as it is. Ooh -- what's this? Kiss and tell time! Romance in the works? Oh, oh... she did it for the money. Eww. Best leave it alone then, Lancos could have ended up with a lot worse -- like ... well, let's not pursue that possibility... Hmm -- he's ditching her and heading my way solo; he must know something's up. Hope he takes this well.' The warrior walked up to the satyrlion and repeared the question he had asked himself earlier. "'Raelf?" "Hey ho, Lancos. Yeah, it's me, but call me 'Raf while I'm in this form." "All right. I'm not sure what's in a name anyways. Speaking of which, I'm glad I saw you, since I want to visit Little Rat, assuming she's still called that. What's with the change in name and look for yourself, though? Being around a detective make you want to be in disguise?" "Little Rat's name is up to her. And as for the form, I've probably just been hanging out with rangers too long," he smiled, showing extra teeth in the grin and lashing his tail. "Funny. So what are you, the manager of this group?" "Something like that. Karl, the redhaired satyr, he's the manager, but I've been helping them out with a few things. Their name's Rhythm Song. And they're pretty good, in my never humble opinion." Lancos nodded. "Must be. After all, I saw them last night too." 'Raf's blinked in shock for a second, then turned deadly serious. "You _what_?". Before Lancos could barely move, he was hit with a light he could barely stand to look into. As he slowly adjusted to it, he saw 'Raf was the cause of it, and surmised that it was being used to magically inspect him, although he was not sure _why_. The procedure lasted about a minute before the light stopped, and 'Raf let out a long breath. "No significant changes. Either you came in at the right time, or didn't visit long." For his part, Lancos was confused. "I don't know what you're talking about. But you're right about me not staying. I was sort of busy, spending time with Arienne and all..." "Arienne? Was that the girl you were sucking face with? You dog!" the mage grinned, the satyr part of his mind running wild. "Huh? 'Sucking face' is basically understandable, but I'm still unsure about what you mean." "Oh, sorry, wrong animal." The satyrlion grinned. "I hope I did not offend Lady Bast." He gave a small bow to the cat, who seemed to be more interested in an itch in her ear. "Whatever you say. Arienne and I have what might verge on a relationship. After all, look around -- do you even see her anymore?" The 'kan looked around. She had left, there was a trace moving out of the edge of his awareness. He shrugged. "Anyway, what's the situation with you? C'mon, tell me the truth, I deserve at least that much." Lancos looked him directly in the eyes. "All right, but remember you asked for it." 'Raf blinked, channelling a surge of power as a set ended and another song began. "I'm at war, and I'm under attack. Right now." "Attack?" Lancos looked around, suspicion outlining his features. "Well, I suppose it can't be anything you can't handle, or you think I'd be useful for. Because otherwise, you _know_ I'm always willing to help." "Dude, it's not like winning a prize; it's not something I should share. Besides, you're helping. You're catching the music. I'm mostly worried about fallout, stuff that might be coming from left field. Flank attacks, dude." Lancos' baffled look suddenly vanished at the familiar military term. "I was even worried for a while it might be coming from you, eh? My enemy is a sneaky bastard, y'know. How could I tell you from a perfect duplicate?" Lancos' visage tightened. "Maybe because I haven't already attacked. Because I'm not wearing the medallion, but I have it, and it's not something you can exactly duplicate. Because I asked for the truth, not something evil's known for. Because -- particularly after the Dragon Quest -- I've made sure my loyalties are straight. And because, after all I've learned and been through, I feel I'm a better person than one who would do that, and would hope people agreed." 'Raf whistled low. "Good to hear you say that, mi amigo. Really good to see a little confidence... a bit of ego. But don't be fooled, the fellow I'm fighting uses truth just as much as he uses lies. If he was using you, there's a good chance you wouldn't even know it. But hey, I trust you not to be my enemy." Lancos smiled wryly. "Glad you feel that way." Then the smile soured. "Because I was just about to add that I could understand why, after what happened in Ak'Irneg." The satyrlion returned the look. "Yeah, I think I know how you feel about that. Better than you think." Now it was the warrior's turn to look deadly serious. "I hope not, dude. That would mean losing total control over yourself, with limited hope of ever regaining it. It would mean watching yourself kill another person for no good reason, and not be able to do anything about it, not even regretting it, basically. It would mean word 'friend' lost all meaning, as far as I'm concerned. And the worst part for me, knowing that it's happened before, and very well could again." 'Raf smiled to himself -- Lancos actually called him "dude" -- seems like he might be picking up more than he thought. He turned serious, then, thinking about what Lancos had said. "Hmm. Except for the killing part, that sounds about right." 'Raf extended a claw and scritched Bast at the base of where her tail used to be, where an especially annoying itch had been bugging him. There was a small pause of total silence, as the band rested a moment in between songs. "Wow. I would ask what happened, but I wouldn't want to intrude." "I'll tell you more when it's safe. Suffice it to say I owe Kadrys big time for the way I mistreated him." Lancos couldn't help but chuckle. "We both do. Ironic, then, isn't it, that of the three of us, people would in general trust _him_ the least, when he's proved the most reliable?" 'Raf said nothing for a second, then shook his head swiftly back and forth, his long mane flying about with a mind of its own. "Enough of that, dude, you're starting to sound like Lucas, and I need to be in a party mood." Lancos smiled, somewhat despite himself. "Sorry. I guess I _should_ just enjoy the music. Especially with it likely being from your realm and all." "Huh?" The mage cocked his ears, and was slightly puzzled when he heard only a local favorite was been played. "Why would you say that?" "Well, you said you managed. Since this group is just starting out -- which I assume they are, doing this for free and all -- I figured you'd put in stuff from your realm, as well as maybe some well-known local songs, and of course a few original pieces." "Oh, really?" "Yeah, why not? I'm not familiar with almost anything from Generica or... whatever the current name of your home is, and I'd bet it's true in reverse. Well, maybe not for people like Listener, but I'd bet in general. Cultural diversity seems to be what Generica is all about, so what harm could it do?" The satyrlion grinned. "Cool attitude. But two things. Rhythm Song has been around for a while, but they weren't a satyr band before last night." He grinned at Lancos puzzled expression, then continued, "And we _are_ getting paid for this, if I have to take it out of Melwiss' own pocket. Good idea about the multicultural side though. They've been taking stuff at random from my own musical background, but a more deliberate selection process might tighten things up a little." He looked over the band, wondering if he should get back in and crank up the illusion field again; they'd stopped while he took his break. "Well, if you're taking suggestions," Lancos said, " let me make another. The music by itself is certainly... motivating... capturing, but you should add more visual effects. If you do it right, people will be entranced by both the sights and sounds, producing even more than double the experience. Hmm -- it may be easier to show than explain it, if you don't mind." "Well, it _sounds_ like you know what you're talking about..." 'Raf let his grin grow into a wider smile. Finally Lancos was letting some of his mysterious past be seen? "Hey, you can't spend half you life around entertainers and learn nothing. Even when it's the first half, and you mainly lugged equipment, like I did. Anyway, what's the next song?" "Good question." He pulled up the amulet he'd used to scan Lancos earlier. <> <<6 minutes, 28.34 seconds>> <> <>. "I think `Changes' would be appropriate... Not sure if I want to use Bowie's or Ozzy's or Tesla's ... <> Especially since things are about to heat up... Oh man... Joy ... R, pick a name, man, pick a name!" "Changes? Name?" The warrior paused, shaking off a question about what 'Raf meant, realizing there were some thing he just _shouldn't_ know. However, he didn't want to just drop the subject. "What's up? I wish I could help." "Thanks for the sentiment, but this goes beyond what I can ask you." Lancos' resolve remained obvious in the set of his face. "I really mean it. I must owe you at least one favor." 'Raf looked at the ranger for a second, the wheels of his mind swiftly turning. "I may take you up on that. It's dangerous though." "What would I have to do?" "Hmm. I'm not sure how to say this. How much do you know about satyrs?" "Not much -- they're supposed to be a secretive but life-loving group in general. I guess that doesn't fit well with the warrior mindset I've generally carried, since I've seen maybe a half dozen of them lifetime, including the band but not you." "That'll have to do for a basis. The main thing you need to know is they like to be happy, and they have the power to share emotions, physical and otherwise. Sometimes they'll make people happy, no matter what it takes. One part of this is that they're _very_ good musicians, to the point of taking over people's emotions when they think it's needed." "Yeah, I've rather noticed that. I suppose it's luck plus being behind the band that's let me keep full control." "Hey, you should join the party, then. The more the merrier, and it's good to loosen up every once in a while." "Maybe later," Lancos said, with a hint of a smile. "But first, go on." "Oh, right. Well, you see, another way satyrs pleasure people -- and thus themselves -- is giving people things they want. Since you asked for the truth, this is it: for me, that includes granting someone's hearts' desire. Not some whim or even something they think they've wanted for a long time, but what would satisfy them the most, both emotionally and physically. It's beyond that -- if you ask me for your heart's desire, I must and can and _will_ grant it to you." Lancos stood dumbstruck for a moment, taking in the deeper meaning of what he had just heard. "Oh. So you want me to... no, I better not say it. Give me a second to focus, and then please try it on me." 'Raf shrugged, both physically and mentally. He reached his hands to the ranger's face, touching gently. Since Lancos had asked, after being warned, then whatever might pop up, he really had no choice. But then, he trusted his friend. There was a flicker in the air as he moved them slightly in time and space, stealing the seconds he needed for this task. First to come to him was the physical sensorium -- what it felt like to be Lancos. The essence of being alive: blood running through the veins; adrenaline pumping slowly, but ready to increase in less than a moment's notice; sweat forming all over the body, and saliva in the mouth. The shape of him, a strong yet fairly agile man, beyond young adulthood but still far from middle age, near the height of his physical prowess. The more intricate details: scars here and there; an old wound left from a sword stick when he was younger; a slightly crushed left big toe where he'd dropped a crate on it; the bruise on his head that he'd gotten in the DragonQuest. Then the emotions came in, a whirl of patterns leading in a well worn dance. A picture formed in 'Raf's mind, the visual object of his mental quest. The image was of Lancos with a young woman, sitting and talking lovingly in a glen, occassionally looking at a pairs of children. The woman was Felria, the mage remembered from his brief peek at Alita's interpretation of her in Ak'Irneg, and the children were no doubt their own. 'Raf frowned, first in slight disappointment, and second in realizing that if he asked Lancos if he _really_ wanted this, the ranger would say no. Then, a surprising thing happened -- the image dimmed, another one mixing with it, then dominating and eventually replacing it. This resembled more of a memory, showing Lancos in Ak'Irneg, watching 'Raelf be torn apart, and inwardly wishing he could reform the mage body and soul, that he could break from the medallion's control long enough to save his friend, if he couldn't save himself. An instant of desire that had been locked so deep inside him by the medallion that he hadn't even known it was in there. Impulsively, 'Raf shared back his own memory: Mar's sneak attack via the avatar, how he had exchanged the Gift with R that gave free will to the fragmentary Reaverschild, and how the rules of their exchange required that he keep the gift of tainted power that had been anchored into the elemental Earth of his own being, tied through the half-animal archetypes of the Satyr he had helped to die many years past. There was a pause, as Lancos absorbed the memory. Then the images flowed around each other, and, for a fraction of a second, joined. 'Raf's eyes grew wide, and he reached with the power provided by the Gift... A day in the past and minutes in the future, a set of bindings was cut, a Gift was cut loose from one of the moorings holding it in place. For the moment, 'Raf disappeared, replaced by the truly human form. But the memories parted, and the satyrlion form returned. 'Raf grinned, and they fell back into time as his hands came away from Lancos' face. "Thanks, man. I appreciate the gift. So you were the one who gave me back my shapeshift. You'll probably never know how much this helps me." 'Raf bounced up and down a little, "Far Out!" and Lancos blushed. "Call it repayment for my betrayal. I still owe Kadrys." "Merde, we're beyond that, and I'm sure Kadrys feels the same, trust me. Could you at least tell me how you did that? You changed your heart's desire, on a very deep level, that's not something people usually do." "Maybe later, when we're at the house." There was another moment of silence between the two, before Lancos broke it. "Anyway, about the song and the lights?" "That's easy enough. Light board is that big black box over there, and since these goobers don't know what they're gonna play until it's half started, I'll loan you a three-second look ahead. It'll be good enough to plan your actions, but it won't let make you feel too uncomfortable." <> he muttered, and touched Lancos' shoulder. Lancos felt a sudden sense of warmth, he felt somehow larger, like his legs were mounted on springs. Time skewed slightly, and he knew what was going to happen, a slight blurriness around the edges of Now. The warrior rushed off to where the lighting was controlled, hearing the audience cheer a bit, and knowing the next song was about to start. Anna, the blonde satyr, moved the bell-rack forward, the tuned bars of metal that she used in lieu of keyboards. The twin drummers did a quick set of scissors-paper-stone, and one of them stayed with the big drum while the other one picked up a strange string-and-gourd arrangement, that made a basso thrum similar to a bass guitar. Karl picked up one of Anna's larger lutes, and adjusted the tuning a little. The bells started -- the sound was uncannily like a keyboard, and she did a solo for a half a minute or so, then was joined in background by the thrumming bass. Then for a second, there was nothing but a hum from the instruments. The lute started off, sounding more full-bodied than it should, almost like a guitar but with a metallic electric edge to it, and the bass merged with it after a few bars, still staying in background. After a few bars together Karl began to sing: "Changes Time's making changes in my life Rearranging Can't seem to stop the hands of time" The drums joined in at the beginning of the next stanza: "I remember I was so young I was much too young to see Now I'm older Growing older And I see things differently" The bells kicked in at this point, before and through the next lines: "Oh, oh, can't you see It's changing you and me?" The instruments grew louder and faster to match the voice, for the chorus. "Time's making changes Time's making changes in my life Time's rearranging Changing you and me." There was a slight pause, before the instruments softened, only the lute and drums still playing: "Faces Strange faces cloud my mind Heavy traces Make it hard for me to find" The bass strummed in at the beginning of the next line, continuing to play: "Somewhere in the distance Is that someone who awaits For that moment I am taken Over by the hands of fate" The bells reappeared for the next bit: "Can't you see The world is changing me?" The chorus repeated, but this time, the intensity was kept afterwards, the drums profoundly beating. "Nothing ever stays the same It's always gonna change I'm on my way." The voice softened on the last line, to the point of disappearing. Lute and drums went into a partnership, working together on a fast rhythmic beat. Another small pause followed, before the lute and bass restarted like they had near the beginning of the song; this time the drums were also present. "Changes Time's making changes in my life Rearranging -- always changing Cant seem to... stop the hands of time" On cue, the bells again made themselves felt in the music. "Can't you see It's changing everything?" The chorus played one final time, the singer adding "Oh, all these changes" at the end. Lute, guitar, and drums came lout bug complimentary again, until the end of the song. The music stopped for a second, and the audience applauded and yelled in pleasure. The mage smiled as he watched Lancos perform his duties, shifting the degree of light to meet the mood of the song, or the location, according to whomever was being "featured", with occasional forays to capture the audience's reactions. He really could have done the same things himself; Dave had been in Hollywood long enough to pick up an array of showmanship knowledge. But Lancos was enjoying himself, clearly had more than enough experience and talent to do the job, and if he was doing it, then 'Raf could go into the band and focus energy from a more comfortable place. Bast brushed against the fur of his leg, a rasping purr squeaking out of her. He reached down and picked her up. <> <> <> There was a quick flurry of colors and lights that went unnoticed as Lancos played the lightboard. When they passed, Bast had her tail back, missing since it had been caught under a door when she was just a kit. And her vocal chords had been repaired too. 'Raf frowned, wondering what kind of a jerk would cut the vocal chords of a cat. Bast rubbed against his furry chest again then jumped down to the ground and went over to pester Lancos. 'Raf watched for a few seconds, grinning, then walked to the edge of the stage. He jumped into the middle of the set at the next opening, grinning at Karl and letting Anna take a much-needed break. The band played well into the night, pumping out music. And to show their appreciation, the crowd openly expressed their enjoyment, being led into hope and faith and trust and love, their emotions fueling the war against Mar. But none of them were tireless, and eventually Rhythm Song gave their regards for the night. They waved as they walked off the stage, then bowed to Melwiss and his entourage. Lancos followed them with the lights, then, shutting the board off, followed them bodily. Bast leaped down from her perch atop Melwiss' tent onto Lancos' shoulder, flaunting her restored tail. Lancos noticed the tail and the loud "mew" and started to say something to 'Raf, but decided to keep it for later. 'Raf was hugging Karl and Anna, grinning broadly, lion's teeth sparkling in the moonlight. "Hey guys, great show." He broke free, bumped heads with the twins (which should have hurt, they had horns and he didn't) and then backflipped over to where Lancos was standing. He reached over and scritched Bast on the head again, then touched Lancos on the non-cat-perched shoulder, and the ranger's head spun for a moment as everything suddenly snapped back into NOW - he felt a strange sense of something missing, no more warm furry presence in the back of his mind. Rather than ask 'Raf about it right now, he echoed the satyrlion's words, "Yeah, great show, you guys were amazing." "Thanks," Karl answered, his voice a bit soft after all the singing he'd had to do tonight. "And thanks for the assist. 'Raf, who's this?" he said, pointing to the warrior, "Another of your brothers, or one of ar'Elya's crew?" "Neither, this time -- introductions... Folks, this is Bast, a cat of great personal presence, and Lancos Erredan, a ranger and her companion. I used to travel with the man, but not the cat. Lancos, this is Karl, Anna, and the twins Dack and Dirk, whom I less formally introduced to you as Rhythm Song." "Nice to meet you," Karl grinned. "Good work with the lights. If 'Raf does decide not to go with us on tour, we might try to recruit you as a roadie, if we decide we want a human in the group." Anna giggled at that, though the ranger only raised his eyebrow in question. "It's a private joke," she said, reaching over and tousling his hair in a flirtatious manner. The twins nudged each other behind Lancos' back and grinned. Or leered. "Oh." Lancos muttered, before giving a sly smile. "If you're going to be that way, I'll have to reply in kind, and tell you that I _could_ be less human, but you wouldn't like me that way." They looked at him speculatively, and 'Raf winced. Oh well, he'd tried to deal with this back when they were DragonQuesting. No success then. No reason to expect it to be better now. Finally, Lancos spoke again. "I'm sorry if I sounded weird. Chalk it up to lack of sleep, I suppose." Karl yawned. "Yeah, I'm fairly tired myself. Why don't you crash with us back at the lighthouse? We could talk some more, maybe pay back for the help with the lights." "Thanks. The memories that brought back were probably payment enough, it's been a long time since I did anything like that. But I'll happily accept your invitation to the Lighthouse. I was already headed there anyway..." "Well then, let's be on our way..." 'Raf finished loading his part of the gear into the pushcart and they went off to the west. MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roger] Generica at Last Date: 12 Jul 1993 01:20:52 GMT Message-ID: <21qe9k$9m5@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> After sleeping the rest of the night, the four travelers awoke with the break of day and headed west, making their way to Generica. Now that they were free of the forest, they traveled at what seemed to them a leisurely pace. The first day passed without incident, and even Kayell was relaxed. The companions even decided to risk a fire, and had their first hot meal in nearly a week. Upon awakening on the second day, Giarr solemnly announced, "We should reach Generica tonight, if we set a good pace." The elves decided that it was worth it if they could have wine and hot food before going to sleep again, and Roger echoed that with his desire for a beer and a soft bed. The rest of the day was spent in mostly silence, the four being too busy saving their breath for the grueling run. Their first sight of Generica was at sunset when the city came into sight as they topped a low rise. The sun was setting over the ocean, a red and orange fireball being quenched by the cool waters. A ship was just leaving port, turning south towards Specificas of Spice and Sugar, or perhaps even further south to Rameshan, while the Spire of Hyutir's beam of light swept the harbor and the towers of the Seaguard stood watch over Generica. The banners flapped in the wind upon the walls of Glorshanned Keep at the north end of the city, as they did upon the sturdy dwarven East Gate. The arcades of Fountains and of Unforgotten Heroes crossed Dragon's Lane at the Plaza of Glittering Steel, and the plaza was a bright spot of red as it reflected the sun. Roger smiled at the thought that they would soon be at the Dragon's Inn, a place that had come to mean home away from home. "Well, are we just going to look at it?" asked Kayell. "Let's go." ----- The gates were just being closed by the time they reached the city. "Hey, hold the gate!" Roger yelled to the guards. The gates slowed, and the four hurried to enter. "Thanks," Roger said to the guard, who just mumbled something unpleasant. They four started down Dragon's Lane, which was nearly deserted. As they were walking, four men turned onto the lane from a side street just ahead of them. They turned the companions' way, and the two groups started to walk around each other. Roger caught the flash of steel as one of the men brushed against Giarr, and then Giarr collapsed to the ground. The four men then threw off their cloaks, revealing chain mail, and drew long swords. The companions barely had time to draw their weapons before the men were upon them. As it was, Kayell barely turned a deadly strike and received a gash to the thigh. Roger held ground, parrying several attacks from his assailant while waiting for an opening, but Endo was slowly backed towards the wall of a building under the joint attack of the other two men. Roger finally had his opening, and struck home. His opponent dropped to the ground, and didn't rise. Roger hurried to Endo and fell upon his assailants from the rear. The first died before he knew that Roger was there, and then the second one fell to Endo when he turned his attentions to Roger. The fourth saw his comrades fall, and unleashed a quick flurry of blows at Kayell. Kayell parried them, but was off-balance at the end of the series. The man then broke, running down the street. He didn't get far before a dagger sprouted from his back, and he sprawled out upon the lane. "Nice toss," Roger said to Endo. "Let's go, we don't need attention." Kayell limped to Giarr, and knelt over him. "Giarr's dead," Kayell said woodenly. Roger's heart dropped and he wanted to scream, but instead he walked over and picked up Giarr's body in a fireman's carry. In an utterly emotionless voice, he once again said, "Let's go." They headed down the lane, making for the Dragon's Inn, and they all felt the same emotion - sorrow mixed with rage. "This will not be forgotten," said Endo, putting voice to a sentiment shared by all. In an instant, the four had become three. ----- The Jolly Roger aka taz@athena.mit.edu aka Brian Shea RIP, Giarr. MagicHutchHeader From: bonapart@drycas.club.cc.cmu.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: [The Radj^o man] Date: 12 Jul 93 04:56:24 -0400 Message-ID: <1993Jul12.045624.1@drycas.club.cc.cmu.edu> Sorry about my storyline! I really wanted to write something, but I've found out that I really don't have the time, even in the summer! (Good thing I started out slowly.) If someone would like to involve Delena in a storyline, in which I would take part but not control the storyline, feel free to email me. -john bonapart@drycas.club.cc.cmu.edu MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Bulletin Board Date: 12 Jul 1993 01:46:40 GMT Message-ID: <21qfq0$dlq@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: Bulletin, board, admin -=- Dragon's Inn Bulletin Board -=- week ending 9-July-93 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NEW THIS WEEK: none -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OTHER ACTIVE POSTS: Posted by: Imports, Exports, and Arms (Jeremy Nelson, gujn@uniwa.edu.au) Content: WE apologize for any time distortions in the local area, however, due to testing of a device (Henceforward known as 'The Thing'), the local timestream has become dislocated. There is no danger, however some people may undergo slight disorientation. Some people may apparently find themselves in multiple locations at one time. We assure customers that this is not dangerous, and all time lines are in fact continuous, and will straighten themselves out in time. We recommend leaving early for any important appointments. Normal service will be restored tomorrow, yesterday, in three weeks' time, and in three hundred and thirty years. All complaints should be forwarded to: Imports, Exports, and Arms. We thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Moriarty (Aaron Humphrey, aaron@space.ualberta.ca) Content: |-------------------------------| | Moriarty Investigations, Inc. | | | | Magic and muscle at your | | service! No problem too large | | or small! Reasonable rates! | | | | 15A-Gamma Cor Caroli Lane | | Just off the Arcade of | | Unforgotten Heroes! | |-------------------------------| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Trawm (The Dreamer, asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Content: Attention all Real Men: If you is reading this then you is in the rong bar. Come to the Spitting Cobra were you can have a good time at a good prise. FITING ENKOURAGED. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Malthus Dela Noeuze (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Content: **************************************** ** Perfumerie Grand Veneur ** ** Is Seeking a Person To ** ** Find and Bring Back a Great ** ** Blooddrinker or Souleater ** ** For Perfumeric Substances ** ** All Contacts Considered ** ** ** ** Master Perfumerist Malthus ** ** Dela Noeuze ** **************************************** ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by : Faraway Investigations (albert@bcm.tmc.edu) Content: Grand Re-Opening: Faraway Investigations. 324A Blue Moon Ave. (one block west of Ardrey's) "No case is too big for Faraway." Rates Negotiable. =========================================================================== SPECIAL STATUS: Posted by: Zenith (Mike Bavister, mrhyde@netcom.com Content: ANNOUNCING THE A.P.D-I ARCHIVES I have been carefully recording all that has transpired here at the Inn and in Generica. I estimate that my archives are missing less than 1 in 100. The archives contain over 4600 chapters (articles) in 20 huge volumes (MB). Currently the archives are only indexed by Subject (Subject line), but my trusty scribes are hard at work attempting to compile a keyword-index by name, place, and "thread". Alas, this task may take a while. There are two methods by which you, the citizens of Generica, can access the archives (and their indexes). Via the Post-Office or by Magic. Via Mail: Send mail to the address below, with your request in the body of the message. I will then search the index(es) for you, and either mail you the matching "chapters" or a list of matches (if there are too many "hits"). Until the keyword index is compiled, I will be very reluctant to search the actual archives for your requests. TO: mrhyde@netcom.com. EXAMPLE: Dear Zenith, Please search your archives for all occurance of "Lancos" or "Zebron". Thanks. Via Magic: I have set aside a portion of my personal library for the Indexes and other materials of interest. If you know the powerful "FTP" spell, you can access the indexes directly. The arcane formula is listed below. This archive is "read-only", you may retrieve anything you like from it, but you can't place anything there. If there is something you'd like placed there for the benefit of all Generican citizens, let me know via mail. Do not forget to use "binary mode" for all not in ".txt" format. The FTP library currently contains: Subject indexes (no.1-no.3999) The Directory of Generica (latest edition) JourneyGarb flyer/catalog APDI FAQs (full and mini) And coming soon: The DragonQuest Saga *note* All ".zip" files are compressed using the latest state-of-the-art compression magic. Older uncompression magic may not work (use "zip19" or "pkzip2.04"). If you have any difficulty with either the transfer of files or decompression, please let me know. ftp netcom.com(192.100.81.100) login: anonymous password: (your e-mail address) cd /pub/mrhyde/APDI Cheers and happy reading ____ / __ __ o _|_ | / |__| | | | | |__ /___ |__ | | | |_/ | | Head Librarian of the Great Library of Generica -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- REMOVED THIS WEEK : none _________________________________________________________________________ ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN : ...sage's engagement (me, not the drow) Date: 12 Jul 1993 02:26:02 GMT Message-ID: <21qi3q$dv0@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: engagement ADMIN: Just wanted you all to know that I've just gotten engaged and will be getting married next September (God willing). And now back to our regular programming.... ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: Re: [NTY] Life at the Court, Part III. Message-ID: <1993Jul12.212306.10736@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> References: <1993Jul6.044149.14513@midway.uchicago.edu> <1993Jul7.002828.17536@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> <1993Jul7.103155.22208@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Mon, 12 Jul 93 21:23:06 GMT Rameshander food is good, if a bit exotic for someone used to lembas toast and swanberry jam, and Palandun found himself taking thirds on the roast pig with spice sauce. He also found himself telling more old war stories than he'd care to to the Shaheran, who seemed genuinely interested in them. "...The DIC wanted a person to strike at their left flank, so my plat tumbled into our carts and-" "Tell me again about these carts." The Shaheran said. "Big wooden things." Palandun made cryptic signs with his arms, trying to describe their relative dimensions, "that have integral floating and propulsion spells. Normally they carry four people and their gear. About the speed of a horse, but they don't get tired. I've gone over this already, Shaheran. Anyway, we tumbled into the carts and made this wide sweep off to our right until we got off to their left and a little behind them, then came charging in, yelling and shooting and throwin' fireballs." "Your mages threw fireballs." "Yeah, ever'body did, 'cept Yonnis, Dian, and me, of course." "Why not you three?" Palandun rolled his eyes, he did not like discussing this, but he had set himself up, he sighed, then: "Because I can't do magic. The biologists back home say it's inherited like blue eyes and dark hair. About one fifth of the people can't cast spells in Bismania, I don't know about here." "And they sent one of these...lesser people to be ambassador?" "No, I just happened to be going and thought it would look neat on my resume. None of the other candidates won because they wouldn't be in the area." "Hmmm. Do go on with your story." "Thank you. Feel like I'm bein' grilled here. Where was I? Oh yeah..." After dinner, as promised, Palandun met with the master of spies. The encounter didn't profit him very much, but he did learn: 1) The Master of spies was fond of tea. 2) The Shaheran is doing all he can to help. 3) Gunther may be linked to some organization called the Amber Crescent, Though the master of spies did not know where *they* were or how they might be contacted. 4) Certainly the master of spies is doing a good job, best in all Rameshan, here, have some more tea. Palandun left wondering how the master of spies found his elbows in the morning, and fairly convinced that the Shaheran woudn't live to reach maturity. The next morning, he decided to attack things from the only piece of information he was relatively sure of: the ship Gunther came in on. After a lenghty questioning session Palandun managed to establish the identity of the last passenger to board the ship as they left generica, a carpet merchant who's name has been forgotten. "Well, where did he go?" Palandun asked. "Dunno." "Do you know which direction he left the ship in?" "That way, down the dock." "Argh. Did he leave a forwarding adress?" "Nope." Eventually Palandun gave up and went to the customs officer. This was slightly more profitable, yelding up (after a records search) the man's name, an inventory of his stuff, and a contact location: the central market. A search of the central market didn't show anybody who looked remotely like Gunther, and asking at the various people who rented the land said that nobody by gunther's real name or pseudonym had been there today, yesterday, or the whole month. The Carpet Weavers and Sellers guild (local 12) did not know of anybody who fit that name and description, and wouldn't it be kind of odd to carry your carpets around in a chest? I mean, rolling them up and carrying them over your shoulder is so much easier... All of which left Palandun pretty dry. He went back to the docks to ask the dockstrutter, but she just laughed, saying "He's him." over and over, then doubling over with mirth. Palandun still didn't find it funny. Acting on a hunch, Palandun tried the thieves guild (local 142). When he mentioned "Slave trader." his informant blanched and said no, he hadn't seen anyone of that description, thank you for coming and please go away. Deciding that he didn't have much to lose, Palandun resolved to visit the Amber Crescent in the morning. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: spider@zk3.dec.com (Spider Boardman USG/bossec) Subject: [Jac] Trackless waste Message-ID: Date: Tue, 13 Jul 1993 02:40:53 GMT A horse and its rider were moving across the desert in twilight of false dawn. The man unslung a canteen from the back of the saddle and took a drink. After a glance back from the horse, they stopped. The man then hopped down and gave some water to the stallion. The horse broke the silence in a neighing facsimile of human speech, by asking, "How much longer are we going to be in this trackless waste?" The man grinned, and with a glint in his eye and a hint of menace in his voice he answered, "I supposed we *could* take a short cut...." The horse snorted and folded back his ears, remembering their previous trip through the non-spatial Void between the so-called universes. The man laughed heartily, but briefly, and then said, "Based on what they told me at the keep, we should reach the gate in about two more days. Of course, their directions weren't the best, so it may take another day or two before we locate it." The horse snorted and nodded. The man repacked the canteen while examining their surroundings. "It looks like we'll want to hole up for the day just over that next hill. Tell you what--I'll race you there!" With that, they were both off and running. The ground thundered and shook under the charger's hooves as he quickly opened a lead. As the race wore on, however, the horse began to slow, while the man's grueling pace never faltered. As they neared the top of the hill, the man had nearly caught up to the horse. Suddenly, the horse put on another burst of speed, and reached the top 400 meters ahead of his companion. As he waited there, be blew some foam and pranced a bit to keep from chilling after his hard run. When the man caught up, the horse called out, "Beat you this time, Jac!" The man laughed and patted the horse on the neck. "So you did, Windrunner. You're pacing yourself pretty well these days. Now, let's head down into the cleft just down the north side here, and I'll give you a good rubdown before we set up camp." After the horse's rubdown, Jac set up the daycover on its poles. He set out the vapor trap, to refill the canteens, and have some grain to Windrunner. Finally he started a small fire, and heated up some coffee while relaxing with his pipe. He then ate some jerked beef, and set out his bedroll. He sat a while after Windrunner had fallen asleep, lost in thought. Finally, he too slept, before resuming their journey the next evening. -- Spider Boardman spider@zk3.dec.com DEC OSF/1 development ...!decvax!spider I don't speak for DEC, and vice versa. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Street Crimes Message-ID: References: Date: Tue, 13 Jul 1993 05:41:48 GMT [ADMIN] Co-written with Penny Hutchison; Errol is her character. This takes place just after the collapse of the pocket universe that held the war between Mar and Dariel. --*-- The Walker was bugging out. Errol took a step back into the shadows and made his way to the side door. Jameson went stumbling half-blind out the doorway. Some magician type tried to cast a spell on her and the shreds of Dariel she was carrying in her hands disrupted the web of magic. Errol smiled to himself, and decided to visit the Guild later to "discuss" coercive magics with the fellow. Later, though. He ran behind Jameson Walker, trailing her wake through the curious crowd outside the Spitting Cobra and then past the rebuilt streets of Generica Low Town. That was almost too bad, really, the reconstruction had eliminated a lot of very useful blind alleys and secret ways. Walker was going straight to the west, and this would not do - she'd end up going into the Shunned Center at that rate. And normally she wouldn't be going that way... Yes, there it was, the teasing thread from the Bride of Shub-Niggurath, the Black Goat, so subtle in its suggestion that there was no hint of menace for the rewoven white bird of Hope to react to, nothing to turn aside until it was too late. <> He snapped the words off with a cold edge, and the lure of the Great Mother flinched away with a whine and a snarl. She still paid heed to the agreement, but it was annoying to her, and she wasn't going to tolerate this forever. Walker turned south at the next intersection, following some unknowable map in the labyrinths of her mind. She skirted the Buffer. By this time she had attracted four or five of the Low Town's more disreputable denizens, and Errol was forced to stop and deal with the two who were closest. "Good evening, Frau Bertine." He blocked the narrow entrance to the alleyway. Walker was barely visible moving out the far end. "What do you want? Get out of my way, little man, or my bully-boys will hang you up by your own innards." Bertine was infuriated that this little nothing had called her Frau -- nobody in Generica had any idea that she was a woman, and she had no intention of anybody finding out. She gestured a command, and the two hired guards lunged forward, like dogs set off their leashes. She was surprised then when they pitched forward, knives sprouting from their foreheads. She was even more surprised when he tossed his stinking cigarette into her face, and the smell knocked her to her knees. Her last thought on blacking out was that she mustn't be found here, helpless. When she woke later in the throne room of le Roy Boyz, naked and in chains, she was sure of it, especially when the Kink, the leader of the gang, started the Royal Payback. She had time to regret making enemies of this particular gang. Errol made his way through the sewers, the shortcut leading him to where Jameson Walker was currently making her way around the edge of the Buff. Up and out, in front of her: the second closest pursuer had managed to signal ahead, and there was an ambush in the way. He looked at the gang-markings on the ambushers' clothing: a spider in a web, with a smiling elven face. Demon Spiders, four of them, all humans. Fine. Demon Spiders were behind several of the recent setbacks that had affected his business deals. These should be easy to handle. Walker was coming down the street now, so he slid up behind the first of the four, and gently introduced the long point of his second favorite kris-knife into the fellow's kidney. The best part of this kind of a strike was that the victim never made any noise. Except this one just dropped his knife, which was too bad, because it did make a noise on the ground where it landed. The other three whirled to see what it was, and Errol had to be very fast in ducking in order to go unseen. The leader of the ambush squad snarled a quick order: "Abort, home!" and they made a quick dash for the manhole that Errol had used a few moments earlier. They would have gotten away, too, but there was Hot Seccho, leader of the Night Martens, a half-ogre and about as big as a wall, and his four human gangmembers, and about a dozen orc-dogs. A few minutes hot discussion, invocation of Bethor Rinch (the half-drow member of Night Martens who was also pals with the leader of the Demon Spiders) but that didn't work: Rinch had been given a new lease on death just a few days earlier by one of the Unnel Chuz, and Seccho wasn't hot on Spiders today. Rumble happened. Errol giggled quietly to himself as Walker made her way past the entrance to the alley where the ambush was going to come; she was going further south. He fell in behind the Demon Spider tracker who was following Walker. The poor geek didn't know why their ambush failed to come off, and he was getting careless in his nervy way, almost clumsy enough for Walker to notice him, even in her current distraction. Errol decided to be polite and used the cosh instead of the monowire garotte; the tracker fell to the ground in a dishevelled heap and Errol took off again, heading further to the south. The neighborhood was changing again; from the slums of the Buff and the Low Town, to the industrial area. Walker was heading west now. The merchants and carters in the industrial area didn't particularly notice one more crazy lady staggering through the streets, and Errol took advantage of the change in terrain to obliterate some more of Walker's traces. Two of the pursuers had stopped when they found themselves getting too far from their home bases, and another lost her trail when she got into the Industrials, but there was that last one. Errol waited for the pursuer: a big kid with a sword and makeshift armor in yellow and black, and an "X" belt-buckle. The "X-Paladins" these ones were. Not usually a bad lot. He trailed the lad for a few blocks, as Walker managed to avoid all the traffic and made her way to the rocks below the cliff -- the Lighthouse was up that cliff, and these rocks were generally safe, the tide only got high here during really bad storms. The young pursuer started to follow her out onto the rocks, and Errol was there in the way, clove-stinking cigarette wafting up from under his fedora hat, trenchcoat pulled tight against the cool sea breeze. "Wouldn't go there, my boy," he said unctuously. "Not a good idea. Rocks are slippery, you could get ... hurt." "What business is it of thine?" The kid had been practicing his knightly dialogue, anyway. "What is thy interest in yon fair damsel?" "Damsel? Oh, she'd like that," Errol chuckled. "You seem like a fairly non-harmful sort. Go take this message to the Corder's Forge just east of Merchant's Hill." He held out a folded piece of paper to the youth, who looked skeptically at the writing on it. "Doesn't say anything." "It's not for you. Give it to the master-smith or to his chief journeyman, Kam, I think he's called. Oh, and here's a groat for your trouble." Errol tossed a gold coin to the lad, who caught it reflexively in his left hand, and tested the metal. A moment after he pulled it from between his teeth, his eyes grew blank and he stood straight, receptive, as the drug on the coin took effect. "Always works," Errol smiled to himself. "Listen, boy. You take this letter where I told you, then go back and tell your gang leader that the mark you were following got away. All you remember about going to the forge is that you were looking for a new knife, and you heard they might have some, but they didn't have any. Then, tonight, go to the front door of Charlie Ale's place on the south side of Merchant's Hill, and spend that coin on a beer and a little gambling. You don't remember talking to me, until I tell you, ok?" "Yes, milord." "Good. Go now." Errol grinned widely as the young would-be knight began trotting off into the city. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Kadrys, 'Raelf: Dues and Reparations Message-ID: References: Date: Tue, 13 Jul 1993 05:59:52 GMT [ADMIN] This is a joint post, me and Andrea Evans. Thanks to Liralen for the framing music. + "they tell you that this rain can sting, and look down + there's no blood around, see no sign of pain + hay ay ay no pain + seeing no red at all, see no rain It was mid-morning the day after the concert in the Plaza of Glittering Steel, and the breakfast mob had just cleared out, leaving the Inn in one of its less crowded states. Kadrys sat in his usual place, pondering the events of the night before, and wondering if he'd ever get over the betrayal he felt. 'Raelf was talking to Littlefair. Kadrys' hearing was of course good enough to follow the conversation, though normally he disregarded anything that didn't pertain to him. Survival required him to know when he was being discussed, but he seldom eavesdropped. Courtesy, and the fact that he couldn't possibly remember the tiny details of every trivial conversation, precluded casual snooping. But this time he did listen, not sure why. "Look, 'Raelf, you've paid your tab, and an advance, I don't really need to be paid for the stuff in the street. I got considerable of the spillover after the concert, no need to worry." Littlefair resumed polishing a beer stein. "Dude, I trashed your peacekeeper spell, killing Luthor in here. Sure I was out of my head, but that still doesn't undo the damage." "And you know that the spell was wearing thin anyway. Most of its force came from the common belief that it would work." Littlefair placidly replaced the mug in the rack and picked up the next. "Crowd control. I know. But you still gotta keep the peace." "We've still got Listener, and the other defenses are still in place. And the day I can't bounce any of the Rabble, or for that matter just about any of you adventurer types, well, I'll get a real job. You worry too much, 'Raelf." "Yah, you prob'ly right. Let me know if you want to take bids on having the peacekeeper replaced." "Will do." They shook hands. 'Raelf turned and looked straight at Kadrys. He seemed to square his shoulders, then smiled and came over, a glass of elvenwine in one hand. "Kadrys. Just the man I'm looking for." "Really?" "Mind if I sit?" "Not at all. What can I do for you?" "Come to my house tonight. And, uhm, there's something personal I need to tell you." "There is?" Kadrys leaned forward, betraying a hint of curiosity. "Well, you remember two days past, at the party?" "What a question. Of course I do," Kadrys smiled and toyed with an empty cup. 'Raelf glanced down at it, and frowned. "I owe you this." He took the cup, and placed one wrist over it. The veins stood out over corded muscles. One fingernail, suddenly razor sharp and glinting of steel, sliced along one vein inside the wrist. Kadrys suppressed a flinch, his eyes widening as he watched. Red, steaming blood poured into the cup, filling it to the brim, then the opening vanished, skin unbroken. "A toast, to the preservation of hope." 'Raelf lifted his glass. Kadrys raised the cup to his lips. The scent was right, but there was an overtone of something strange. He let the blood fill his mouth, flow down his throat. The life that flooded him was incredibly intense, burning far brighter than he had expected. The wave of pleasure exploded through his body, ignited his brain. His awareness of the world vanished like a candle blown out. *contact* Again the sunlit beach, the light a gentle caress on his warm brown skin. The trees around were recovered from the storm, though towering clouds remained ominous in the air. Beside him, clad in brightly colored shorts, 'Raelf stood, looking every bit as human as he normally did. "I wanted to give you this a long time ago." 'Raelf said quietly. "You don't look the same as last time." "Would you rather I took my trueshape?" "It doesn't matter. If you want to." "I'll stay like this then. There's something I can tell you here that I simply can't say out loud. I trust you, Kadrys. I'm giving you a bit of my self. It's to make up for what 'Raf did by mistake, he's very upset about it." "I don't understand. Raffi, he was you twisted by the avatar." "Remember how I showed up in the Inn before we left on the dragon hunt?" "I couldn't forget. We thought you were twins for a while." "Well, I'm something like twins again. I deliberately set out to follow six different major timeforks that I knew were going to end. 'Raf came from the end of one of those. So did Kev, and Lex, and one other who's still out there somewhere. I was the anchor, the focus so that my otherselves wouldn't be changed beyond recovery by the thing we were just fighting. You must have seen some of that battle in your contact with 'Raf." "I saw that you had been twisted. I never knew by what." "He was something worse than Lord Raven ever dreamed of being. The ReaversChild. You've been around long enough to know about the Five Wars... This was an agent against Hope. It cost a lot to defeat him, more than just power. I have four otherselves now. Kev, Lex, 'Raf, and the one we haven't found yet. I nearly lost a fifth, but he's back among me again. With the others... I can't rejoin them, Kadrys. They each have a Power lodged in them that I can't incorporate... Well, really, that I don't dare incorporate - I don't want the limitations that come with those powers. Lex has omniscience, no matter that it's limited, it sucks - the world gets boring when you can see through everything. And it's tied in through my Water focus, in such a way as to force Dave's persona more to the front." 'Raelf slouched down into a kneeling position, and Kadrys joined him on the ground, stretching out to enjoy the rare sensation of sunlight that wasn't painful. 'Raelf continued. "Kev's in my Fire node, and he's been cursed with effectiveness. Imagine how hard it is to play, to just goof around, when whatever you venture is doomed to extreme success, even when you just want to pretend. It's pretty hard on the kid. Little Rat doesn't understand why he won't take things serious. He doesn't dare to. And then 'Raf's tied into Earth through the persona fragments of a very old, immortal, alcoholic satyr I once helped to die: he's got to grant whatever hearts desire anyone asks of him, no matter how much it would destroy them. That's what happened with Dasham the other night. The worst bit is that he can always grant the desire, because of the way the gift was built. The Powers, they're all so tempting, but I really _don't_ need to be a god, I need to just be myself. And the others, they're myself, too, and I want them back, as much as they want to be back with me. I can share memory, merge identities so that we don't drift too far away, with Kev and with Lex. Not 'Raf though. He was my last defense, and the strongest, and he may be changed forever. We're hoping to figure a way around it. But we knew the risks when we started." A determined frown crossed his face. "I see. So you're different people again." Kadrys rolled to his feet, as 'Raelf stood from the kneeling position. "For now. I wanted you to know, without your help we would have lost to the ReaversChild. And 'Raf wants you to know, he didn't mean to throw you out of contact like that. It's, how you say, poor technique." 'Raelf was grinning wickedly. A smile in return, crooked because of the wry emotions behind it, not for once because there were fangs to hide. "You know how confused Raffi was. Whatever - discourtesy - may have been done at the time, was understandable under the circumstances, in his state of bewilderment, of violation." A sudden unintended darkening in Kadrys' tones at the last word added emphasis. 'Raelf frowned, his eyes a deep soft blue, mirroring his concern. The clouds gathered overhead, a few drops of water struck them, leaving a damp red spot on Kadrys' shirt. "C'mon. What is it? Tell me," 'Raelf urged, but Kadrys stared at him, in silence. "Kadrys, it's important, I want to know." Kadrys exhaled shakily, a ragged dry chuckle, utterly devoid of mirth. His eyes dropped to the white glitter of the sands. At the gentle touch on his arm, he half-leaped backwards, the black intensity of his stare striking 'Raelf almost like a blow, though of course the flame of the vampiric gaze was absent. "Do you really want to know? Do you really want any idea of what it was _like_ for me? Do you? To be alone, _really_ alone, just yourself and nothing more, for all those godscursed ages? To have to fight for who you are, against everything that time and fate and hatred can throw at you? To survive all that, somehow, and then... And then, to have to give it all away, just open yourself wide and surrender? Just _give_ someone all that, everything you are, all you've suffered for, just hand it over?" Kadrys' face was flushed with the force of his emotions, his normally quiet voice had risen to what was for him almost a shout. 'Raelf stood silently, hands at his side, waiting without words. Kadrys' sudden, harsh tones broke the silence. "No, forget about all that. That's unimportant. That, I could handle. It was necessary. I'd do it all again. I _owed_ you, at _least_ that much. For Imariye'." His voice grew a little softer, his head bowed, obscuring his face. "But..." He drew a deep, shuddering breath, fighting for calm. "But finally, after all this time, to surrender my deepest self, to give in; and to enjoy it, to love that melding so much that its ending was grief, that my freedom was a source of pain, that the very moment of regaining my own self was a moment of sorrow, that in that moment it was no longer enough for me to be just my own self? Even though my own self is all I can ever be, all I can ever have?" He raised his head suddenly, almost threatening 'Raelf with the image of his own pain written plain upon his face. His eyes wide and dark, wells of anguish. Again, he whispered, hotly, "Can you have any _idea_ what it was like?" Slowly, grimly, 'Raelf nodded. His face spoke of forebodings confirmed. "'Raf told me about this, I was afraid it might be..." He took a single step closer, extended a hand tentatively. "Open up to me, Kadrys. I need to understand. Show me." At this, Kadrys gave a burst of laughter. The sound was oddly like sobbing. "_Again?_" he cried. "What, you still haven't pawed over these old ruins enough? Still a few godsforsaken memories you haven't plundered yet? Or do you just want to relive the particularly _interesting_ bits?" He smiled, a bright, bitter baring of teeth. 'Raelf took a deep breath. His voice was quiet, but the echoes reached a chord deep inside. "Kadrys, please. Listen to me. This is not like you. I know you..." Another breath, power drawn and focused inwards, centering. The same quiet tones, the same echoing strangeness. "Something's been done to you. I can't find out what, not at this level..." Kadrys gaped, his face full of the same pain, the same absolute surprise, of a man stabbed without warning, staring at the knife in his body. _His_ words. Almost his very voice. The words he had spoken to Raffi, when he had been driven wild by the Reaverschild's bondage. He recalled his own words, the fury of despair in his heart. 'Something's been done to you...' The words seemed to echo in his ears. Horror in his face, he took two steps toward 'Raelf, clung to him like a drowning man. His heart was hammering, the breath shuddering in his lungs, its tremor underlying his voice. "Yes. Do it. _Now,_ before I change my mind!" The clouds burst above them, drenching waves of warm salty rain. Brown, muscled arms tightening around his body, his own gripping in return with the strength of desperation. The pressure between them building, and then the sudden breaking of tension, the indescribable sensations of two bodies, two minds, two souls, melting into one. He was. Darkness at the heart of a Void, surrounded by the vivid maelstrom of the elemental essences. 'Raelf sank into the endless layers of memory, felt the weight of the uncounted years of experiences settling on him like deep black water, cold and full of hidden currents and strange creatures. He wondered why Kadrys kept them all in the forefront of his mind; the 'kan had learned in their early days how to save memories in a way that they weren't a massive abyss around them. Must be the curse, no Vampire was ever expected to outlive his homeworld. The memories here were enough to crush the sanity of anyone foolish enough to try to experience them in full. But 'Raelf was one with their owner, and he could not lose his way. As he searched, he felt a sense of the fundamental starkness of this mind, which had been honed mercilessly by time. A survival machine, sculpted by long adversity, anchored to a pragmatism harder than stone. But there was peril in such absolute focus. A single piece of grit in the wrong place, and a precision machine will destroy itself, while a less finely wrought piece of engineering will be able to muddle through, its inefficiency almost unaffected. This mind had been forged to endure incredible pressures from outside. But it was achingly vulnerable to attack from within its own self. Kadrys felt the sense of searching, a touch trailing through his mind, warm and light as fingertips stroking his hair. 'Raelf, slipping into his memory, passing over the recent days with a stab of disappointment - the Wyvern still had a long way to go, she still wasn't trusting people... but it was a start. _You forgave her?_ _What else could I do? It would be foolish to waste time holding a grudge over it. She cannot help being what she is any more than Lancos could help killing me while his mind was controlled by that medallion of his. And I refuse to become the kind of beast which I despise, just so I would have the power to revenge myself on her. I understand her, probably better than she does herself._ _Interesting perspective. So only part of your personality has been damaged by my clumsiness. Good._ Memories again, the tightrope walk on a clothesline between two buildings, and before, the ache of the conversation with Kardia after the dance. 'Raelf projected a warm sympathy to Kadrys -- getting dumped, no matter how gently, is always a drag, especially when it's done by someone who still loves you. And then it was. Founders' Night, dancing, and before that... 'Raelf gently moved closer into the memory, studying Kadrys' view of the merger with Raffi with great care, the thorough, dispassionate view of an outsider. Looking for things which didn't fit. A discovery. And a sense of grim relief. _What is it, 'Raelf?_ _There. When you first tried to get Raffi to remember who he was. When all your words failed. Remember the despair. How you reached into yourself for the power to shake it off. Remember what you felt then._ _Something wrong. Something deep. Draining my strength. Something from Raffi._ _Yes. The avatar had taken his -- my -- love of others, of physical and emotional closeness, and had twisted and chained it into a need to feed off the emotions of others. Your burst of despair, when the two of you were so close, was so strong, the twisting caused Raffi to tap into you by stealth, to revel in the intensity of your emotion. Remember, you felt your ability to fight despair weakened by the contact, and you tore away from it. But the contact had been made, the taint was left behind._ A burst of fear, desperation, from Kadrys. A wave of calm in reply. _The taint is gone. It died when the Warrior of Hope shone into you, when Raffi was freed from the avatar's chains. But damage had already been done. Damage so subtle the Warrior couldn't see it without joining souls with you._ _What damage?_ Stark intensity. _It acted in you, as it did in Raffi, by twisting emotions. When you broke the first chain, the shock of remembering led Raffi to break your melding in great haste. In his confusion and anguish, he didn't think about what it would do to you, until much later. That sudden tearing apart was a great shock to you._ _Yes._ _It was natural for you to enjoy the togetherness, you're human, after all, at the core. You've always needed the new, the strange, the sensual. Only natural. And to get all that torn away so suddenly? Of _course_ the shock of it hurt. You would've been able to deal with that hurt, like you've always managed to in the past... But that's where the avatar's taint got in the way. It took your natural shock, and twisted it. Made it into an overriding loneliness. And worse. It made you feel empty and incomplete, made it insufficient to be just your own self. (Amusement) You've got more self in here than most armies, Kadrys._ Quiet surprise. _But the earlier injury to your ability to withstand despair, it hadn't been healed. Of course it didn't matter that the taint itself was erased. Its effects were still there, festering inside you. The tainted despair used your own survival adaptations, your constant introspection, your need to watch for and forestall future weaknesses, all were turned against you. You couldn't know that the bottomless pit of abandonment, the alienation and hollowness, wasn't your own honest reaction._ _I thought I'd been so changed by the experience that I'd never be able to bear the loneliness without it, never be happy again with being just myself. I - I was afraid that my ability to endure time and life on my own, had at long last been compromised, that I was doomed._ _Well and truly. Remember, you were at one with Raffi, the chains got to play on you while you were there. Raffi's blatant careless hedonism was a reaction to despair, that he couldn't deal with, and it blocked your own ability to deal with despair. Remember your reaction when Kardia told you how she felt?_ Grief, loss. A wound, still raw and bleeding. The savage scorn in her voice when she had cried, "He's _just_ a FRIEND, damnit!" The whiteness of the flame of truth. His anguish vivid on his face, overpowering his most desperate struggles for control. And, later, the blank shock in her stare, when he had been forced to confess his own feelings. _That's part of it. Remember before, when she first said that you should wait?_ More grief, the numb platitudes spoken to the weaver. _Yeah, that's the other half. What a really rotten perspective. You're tainting the memory with interpreted emotions, Kadrys. She was in pain, physical pain, and she was sick with fear that they were going to kill you, and she was also trying to save your life. I'd sooner have Kardia as a friend than a thousand people with smaller hearts as lovers._ _But it was so devastating, as if all we had was worthless to her. And yet I knew it was troubling her to make that break, she's such a gentle soul inside, and she's been hurt too often._ _Kadrys, all you had to do was listen to your own words. What you said to her, that she needed room to grow, that it'd be wonderful to be her friend, that friendship is the best basis for love. Very true. You're a wise man, a patient man, with too much practice at waiting, yet you never listened to your own advice. You said all that to soothe _her_ feelings, while inside you were a solid mass of pain. Pain you stubbornly refused to show. What, were you afraid she'd see it? Afraid that she had the sympathy, the understanding, to try to soothe _your_ pains too? What are friends for, Kadrys?_ Kadrys remembered his words to Kardia. He had dismissed them as empty maunderings and platitudes, useless against his grief. But now, he could see the truth in them, the truth 'Raelf was showing him. With 'Raelf surrounding him, one with him, he reached into the depths of his soul, searching for the fears that had been obsessing him since he was severed from Raffi. He touched them, could see now that they were founded in a web of lies built on a reaction to shock. He examined the despair he had felt at Kardia's words, and knew now that it was out of proportion to her reasonable wish to live her own life. He could see his feelings in a new light, trace the way they had been poisoning his soul, more insidious than any cancer. Under the glare of his awareness, his knowledge of what had been done to him, they faded like shadows at dawn, and died. A warm, silent moment of shared relief. _So now. 'Raf was clumsy from shock, but so you'll know I'm not a lousy lover when I'm whole and well, I'll withdraw the way it should be done. Gently. (grin) Hang on, this will be fun._ From the gyring might of the elements, the power of the earth reached out to Kadrys, folded him into itself. He knew it, felt it all, the thousand layers of the stone, the subtle growth of stalactites, lodes and reefs and ores, and beneath it all, the molten heart of the world. Solidity, gravity, stability, strength... its touch glowed in him. Impulsively he reached out, giving of himself in return. The strong cleaving of the loam with his hands, the push of his muscles against soft soil, the wet slick slide of clay against his skin. The pause while the earth settled itself around his body. The stroke and slither of the tiny humble inhabitants of the soil, just brushing against him. And most of all, the silence, the stillness, the endless darkness, calling him, drawing him forth from his corpse, freeing him for a time from the bonds of his curse. And, after that timeless rest, the awakening, slow and easy, the rising to the surface. The emergence, the rebirth. The parting. A wave reared high above Kadrys, and crashed over him, engulfing him. He knew the endless restlessness of the sea, the untameable play of the waves, heard the mourning and wisdom in the whisper of foam on the sands of a thousand worlds. As rain he fell in countless glittering shards, life fulfilling the need of the world. In return, a single memory. A lake, cradled among high mountains, their steep sides plunging into that perfect mirror, seeming to rise again in its depths. The way its purity, its stillness, had sung to him, called him. His dive, arching out over the water, the crystal image of the moon on the glass-smooth surface, unobscured by any reflection of his own body. The icy shock of impact, for that one instant as absolute as death. Then the sensation returning in a thousand needles of fire and ice, enduring it, exhilarated by it, accepting it. The waters closing over his head as he abandoned all movement, and simply sank. His mouth opening, the air trailing away from his body. The slow, deep breath. Water like liquid ice, entering him, filling him, burning in his lungs until his body shared its chill, was one with it, no longer felt it. Then moving, a current of flesh amid the currents of the water, until at last he felt strangely disembodied. As though he _were_, in truth, no more than a mind, a feeling, a flowing. But, in the end, the time came when he rose, carving an arrowed wake through the mirror surface. Water trailed away from his skin like a farewell caress as he stepped out onto the shore once more. With a rush, a whirlwind swept Kadrys up and carried him away. He heard the uncounted songs of the wind, the whistle in dark pine needles, a sound as chill and poignant and distant as the first winter star. The thrum as it sped the sailing ships on their way, sent them leaping from wave to wave. The hollow boom in the mouths of caves. He breathed the dust and heat of nameless desert sandstorms, spun the sea into whitecaps and waterspouts, stroked powder snow into sculptures purer than any hand could shape. He knew the utter wildness of the hurricane's dance; the glaring sunlight and the unearthly cold that blazed eternally in the distant heights, beyond the highest wisps of cloud. In answer, his memories of the storm: the leap from the end of the cliff, the moment that seemed to stretch forever, toppling outward in his human form, lying on empty air. The feeling of his fingers reaching out to embrace the breeze, arching, transforming into wings. The dizzying plummet as the shoreline swooped up to meet him. The melting and flowing into a new form. The rapid heartbeat, the fierce fragile shape that hurled itself through the air on dark veined webs. The wings, flexible, hands caressing and stroking the air, cupping the currents, naked of feather and so sensitive to any change in the complex element in which he flew. The fierce ecstasy when the storm seized him, flung him on before it, swift as an arrow, savage as a hunting hawk. The pounding rush as the speed, the power of the wind kept on building, giving him might beyond his dreams. The wild glory of this could not last forever. Whenever he was too wounded to endure, whenever he was trapped beyond other help, there was always one source of solace. He showed this to 'Raelf, gave him the feeling of a maimed and broken body dispersing atom from atom, expanding softly into mist. The pain vanishing like an evil dream. The sun losing its power to sear. The deep strangeness of the mistform. Insensible to light, but extremely responsive to shape, to pressure, to vibration: to tiny changes in the air that sustained it. Possessing no form, slipping round any obstacle with an irresistible soft flowing that even water could not match. And later, emerging from the mistform, his body healed and free of pain. Fire reached out to Kadrys, lapping him in golden light, bathing him in leaping, raging heat. He knew the agony and the triumph of the Phoenix, burned with an efreet's pride, read the secrets in the gleam of a dragon's eyes. He swam in flame with salamanders, watched a hearthfire with the sight of a witch, seeing faces long dead and events not yet born. He stared into the heart of the sun and did not burn, understood it and knew it was anathema to his kind because it was the source of all life, and because, in the end, he was a creature of death. All of Kadrys' direct memories of fire were memories of pain, of hunters and stakes and his body burning. Unfit for gifts. Ah, but there was another fire that would make a fitting gift, especially since he remembered 'Raelf had referred to it as fire once. The fire of pleasure. The fire of blood. A deep, personal gift. His experience with someone they both loved. Kardia. His mouth cupping itself to the warm skin of her throat. The exquisite sensuality of sinking his fangs into her flesh. The incandescent heat of her blood, falling into him, filling his thirst, the pleasure of it setting every fibre of his being ablaze. This memory melding into another. Whereas the first was a slow seduction, full of the ache of anticipation, this experience blazed like lightning from the blue. An explosion of power, _life_ of such absolute intensity that even he was overwhelmed by it. The ecstasy of drinking 'Raelf's blood. The embracing gyre of elements faded away. There was only the Void. And the Darkness. Like, and unalike. Opposite and complementary. <> _Darkness._ <> _Soul._ <> _Shadow._ Two. Two-in-one. United. Unique. Two-in-one. One. Sharing. Solitude. Completion. Wholeness. One. I am. The darkness vanished as Kadrys opened his eyes, staring from a distance of a few inches into eyes that for once were as black as his own. Then, 'Raelf smiled, and the vivid, changing colours returned. Kadrys returned the smile. He was moved beyond words by what they had shared. The next moment, his eyes blurred with rising tears: impossible in the world of the flesh, where his body was a dead thing, maintained solely by a curse; but very possible here, where his spirit existed, all too human; and now, whole and secure and strong, healed of the avatar's touch. "Thank you." Kadrys whispered intensely, staring into the depths of those shimmering eyes, knowing that no words could ever express his feelings, knowing that there was no need for him to express them, that they were already understood. 'Raelf grinned at him, a crooked triangular grin that mimicked his own habitual smile. "Pleasure..." he murmured. A chuckle in reply, and a loosening in their arms that were still wound tight around each other. An unhurried backing away, a mutual drawing of a deep, relieved breath. 'Raelf stood, golden hair blazing, backlit by the sun. The towering clouds were gone, the crimson waters that had soaked them were steaming off their bodies. Kadrys looked up, into its rays, lifting an eyebrow enquiringly at 'Raelf, who held out his hand. "Call it a day?" 'Raelf smiled. Kadrys nodded, grinning quietly. "Yes. A red letter day." 'Raelf moved, his shadow blotting out the sun. The beach vanished from Kadrys' sight. Kadrys blinked. He was staring at the emptied pewter cup in his hands. The pleasure he had felt when draining it had been so intense that his grip had tightened on it without his awareness. Its crumpled shape was the exact double of another cup, one he had also crushed involuntarily, during another private talk with 'Raelf. But that time, he had been reacting to overwhelming anguish rather than ecstasy. That time, he had been told by 'Raelf's oracle self of his destined betrayal and murder of his friends, his own death. That terrible fate had been averted by 'Raelf's intervention. And now? Now it had happened again. Once more, 'Raelf had saved him from being destroyed by an evil within himself. He grinned silently at 'Raelf, a grin that didn't _quite_ reach his eyes, as the 'kan looked up from his own surprised glance at the twisted metal in Kadrys' hand. At that moment, Mary Littlefair bustled up to collect the glasses. She heaved a small sigh as she scooped up the mangled cup, but didn't say anything until she was back in the kitchen. Kadrys just caught her muttering under her breath: "He may be a gentleman, but he's _awfully_ hard on the fittings..." The other customers in the Inn just couldn't understand why both Kadrys and 'Raelf suddenly burst out laughing... + "... red rain-- + putting the pressure on much harder now + to return again and again + just let the red rain splash you + let the rain fall on your skin + I come to you defences down + with the trust of a child." + + "Red Rain" - Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [MG] Healing Dreams Message-ID: <1993Jul13.154223.12467@data-io.com> Date: Tue, 13 Jul 1993 15:42:23 GMT [ADMIN: This happens, chronologically, during and after Andrea Evans' `The Price of Freedom', during Kelly's 'Picking Up the Pieces' and during Hutch's 'Dues and Reparations'. Yeef.] ------- Kardia woke two times during the night, once to find herself tangled in sweat soaked sheets after a very nasty dream about being held completely helpless that was interlaced with vague images of a whole lot of despair and pain. The second time she woke from a dream of death that left the taste of metal in her mouth. Kardia didn't want to go back to sleep after that, but gradually found herself drifting off again, this time to more pleasant dreams of earth and sea, sky and fire. Eventually, she woke and, following old training, only opened her eyes first. Kardia was surprised to find Dasham sitting next to her bed, reading. A tone sounded, and Dasham looked up from the book to meet Kardia's eyes. Green eyes met grey and the green eyes dropped, "Good morning, Kardia, how do you feel?" The quiet question was very different than the shouting that Kardia remembered from the evening before. Kardia noticed the lines of tiredness around those green eyes. Kardia tried to turn and groaned softly at the pain. Slowly, very slowly, she turned onto her back and then scooted up a bit so that she could sit. Dasham stood and helped rearrange Kardia's pillows and blanket. Once sitting, Kardia breathed in and stopped, wincing, before she got too deep. "My side hurts. Surprise..." Dasham blinked at the last word, and Kardia grinned, "Sarcasm, sorry. Any news about 'Raelf and Dieter and all that?" Dasham nodded, "Deiter was careless and got possessed by a part of something that took over Archmage Nescie. It caused the fight you saw. Both Dieter and 'Raelf seem to have survived just fine. Nescie was not so fortunate. We're still working everything out." "Just a portion?" Kardia asked, eyes wide. She sighed at Dasham's nod. "Wow..." she said somewhat subdued. There was only silence in the room. Dasham started pacing. Kardia finally stirred, "What time is it?" "About two in the afternoon." Dasham flicked long nailed fingers and a window appeared. The sky was still grey and rainy as the day before. "And I'm still tired..." Kardia shook her head slightly. Dasham said, "Then you should sleep..." Kardia was a little startled by the care in Dasham's voice. "Wouldn't want you to be so tired you couldn't work on my curse." said the bright voice; but Kardia noticed the way Dasham's eyes still wouldn't meet hers. Kardia leaned back and closed her eyes, not sure if she wanted to deal with it right now. She finally said to the darkness behind her eyes, "What's up, Dasham?" The click of heels on the floor stopped. "What do you mean?" Kardia swallowed, her mouth tasted fuzzy, "I don't know what I mean." she said softly, and then asked, "May I please have a glass of water?" She opened her eyes and Dasham was holding a glass of water out to her. Kardia took the glass and then took a sip. The sensation of the liquid in her dry mouth made her sigh softly. "Kadrys..." At the sound in Dasham's voice, Kardia found herself looking very intently at the redhead, and Dasham was just as intently looking at the floor as she spoke, "Kadrys said that you might have some things in common with me. And I was wondering," the green eyes looked up into Kardia's eyes, "Why are you just his friend?" Kardia looked at Dasham while she tried to find words. All that came out was, "Huh." She gathered her thoughts and finally came out with, "Hmmm... I guess the second question first. I should probably just say 'It's none of your business.'" Dasham frowned. "But... mostly I thought that if you'd heard anything else, I thought you were going to kill him." Kardia was a little surprised by the fact that Dasham didn't even react to the accusation. Instead, the tall redhead asked, "But the Light of Truth?" "I don't think I can really be in love with Kadrys because I don't really know him." Kardia grinned, "I've only dated him once. It was a really neat date, but only a single date. He's been really neat, so far, and I'd like to get to know him better, but," she shook her head, "I don't believe I'm in love with him." "You also didn't know that he was in love with you, did you? I saw you start when he said what he said." Kardia nodded, "I had no idea. I... I guess I thought he was like that for everyone he got blood from." Dasham smiled a small smile that had Kardia wondering. It was a soft smile, completely unlike the normal frowns and the perfection of masking curve that Kardia had seen from the ArchMage, before. "No." the ArchMage said, "I think he's like that for only a rare few. Be careful of what you hold in your hands, girl." Kardia raised one eyebrow at the warning. "You don't seem to have any clue as to just how valuable it is." Kardia smiled a crooked smile. "I guess that's why I'd rather take it slow and learn." Dasham gave a crisp nod. "All right, then. The curse, then. You're 'Raelf's hot-shot cursebreaker, when can you get down to work?" "Uhm..." Kardia tried to focus on Dasham with her other sight and immediately closed her eyes. "Shit..." she said softly. The pain in her side throbbed insistantly and her head felt like it was made of lead. She tried to center but couldn't breath right with the pain in her side. She opened her eyes and tried again. All that happened was her sight fuzzed between infrared and normal. She shook her head, "I don't think I'm going to be able to for a while." "What?!" Kardia winced at the loudness of Dasham's voice and then watched as Dasham forcebly brought her anger under control. The next sentence was merely biting, "What do you mean by that?" Kardia swallowed, "I can't focus right. I need to see what to match before I can even start; and it may take up to a month because I have to avoid grounding your powerlines along with the curse. But to do any of that, I have to be able to see, first. I can't right now." "A month?" Dasham sat heavily back down in her chair. "How long until you think you can get started?" "I... I think I have to heal up from this," Kardia looked down a little ruefully at her side, "first. The pain's making it impossible for me to focus..." Dasham reached forward and touched Kardia on either side of her throat. Kardia flinched at the contact, and then all the pain sponged out of her. "Try now." Kardia tried and flinched at the brightness. "All I can see is the magic you're using to make the pain go away..." Dasham leaned forward to look into Kardia's eyes, a twist on her lips, "Yes, your pupils are pinpoints... there... you switched back?" Kardia nodded. Dasham dropped her touch, and Kardia felt all the pain come flooding back in. Her breath shook as she tried to get herself around the lead weight of it again. "The mechanisms you have in your body make it impossible for us to heal you properly, not to mention the potential problems of magical healing in conjunction with your shawls. Leonaco used some of his mechanisms to splint your ribs and stitched up the gash, so you'll be able to wear your shawls and work with your materials while you're healing without popping you open. But it looks like the only thing that is going to be able to heal you is time..." Kardia nodded blearily. "How long?" Dasham grinned a grin with many teeth and little humor, "Days. It looks, little cursebreaker, like it's going to be a couple more days, eventhough you should be on your feet tomorrow. I'm aging at three times my normal speed and you're just going to have to take more time healing. The incompetents..." Dasham was interrupted by a snore. Kardia's snore. Dasham waved a hand and Kardia's form was tucked neatly back into the bed. "Rest well, little bird. No one else here is going to." -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader From: bshsiung@quip.eecs.umich.edu (Bernard Hsiung) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Enter Urcohea, stage right Date: 13 Jul 1993 21:15:54 GMT Message-ID: <21v8ma$8i1@zip.eecs.umich.edu> ADMIN: It should be mentioned that this post chronologically _precedes_ [MG] Street Crimes, which in turn precedes [MG] Picking up the Pieces, both of which have already been posted (but not in that order). If this isn't sufficiently confusing, just let us know and we'll come up with an even more obscure explanation. ---- Archmage Urcohea hurried to the Spitting Cobra, wondering if today was the day that the world was going to end. If it was, he reflected, he definitely should have proposed to Rivy last week. It was a small thing, but really... He entered the seedy Low Town bar, closely followed by Beta team. They were just in time to see the Silver Warrior disappear with two other beings, leaving behind Archmage Nescie, who was sitting next to a woman in ragged clothing. Looking past her torn, unkempt hair and the network of bloody lines that had been stripped from her flesh, Urcohea barely recognized her as matching a description from a security report from some time ago. She had once gotten lost in the Guild, apparently as Nescie's guest. Now she was on her hands and knees, leaving new red smears next to much older stains as she moved, carefully gathering up the few white feathers that were scattered about the two of them. They were perfectly formed, gleaming like polished ivory despite the disgustingly filthy condition of the Cobra's floor. Dieter and Coral were leaning against each other on a bench nearby. They looked exhausted, but intact. Dieter, at least, didn't appear to be trying to kill anyone, so perhaps that meant that Dariel had won. And the Warrior had left... Urcohea turned his attention back to Nescie. What was he doing here? [s-link/beta3: That's not possible. He can't be moving. There's no brain activity, no synapses firing.] [s-link/beta1: Look at those holes in his scan. That's not flesh. Is that really Archmage Nescie? He doesn't even read as human.] [s-link/beta2: He does from over here. Hold on, it's changing. No, it's just this angle that looks human.] [s-link/beta3: What about Makim's thesis about direct psychokinetic control of the body by the soul?] Nescie's mouth was moving, but no sound came out. Concentrating on the shapes of the words and ignoring the chatter on the Guildlink for the moment, Urcohea just made out the last few. "Cepin. Delalle. Jameson. Dariel. Nescie." Nescie looked up at him, and blinked once. Tears leaked from the corner of eyes that were already red and puffy from too much weeping. Then, he turned his head slowly, almost mechanically, to look at the woman sprawled next to him. "I'm sorry, Jaime." His hand lifted jerkily, reaching towards her, even as the light went out of his eyes and he slumped forward. [s-link/beta2: That looks like it.] [s-link/beta3: This is strange: he's not alive, but not dead, either.] [s-link/beta1: His holes are filling up by themselves. What kind of material _is_ that, anyway?] [s-link/Urcohea: I don't know. Leonaco will be here in a few minutes.] By then, the woman had collected all the feathers and found something beside her that their scans had somehow overlooked: a white bird. She scooped it up, murmuring vaguely comforting noises to it, cradling it to herself like a newborn child. She tentatively offered it the feathers she held. It touched them with its beak, stretching its wings for an instant. In the dingy atmosphere, they almost seemed to glow, and the whiteness that she carried was absorbed. Lane made a startled noise. The woman looked around almost frantically, her eyes as wild and disheveled as her hair. When she saw them, she suddenly stood and bolted out of the bar. Wenthrin, the second mage of the response team, threw a binding on her as she passed him, but the bird in her arms spread its wings again, briefly, and the spell was brushed off before it took. [s-link/Urcohea: Let her go. If the Silver Warrior let her be, I'm sure we can do the same. We'll find out more about her later. If it's safe, move Nescie to MedFac, get Leonaco looking at him and tell Dasham she might want to take a stare, too. Get Coral and Dieter debriefed and probed.] Finally, Urcohea found someone who could tell him what was going on. "Alright, 'Raelf. So, what happened?" 'Raelf blinked. "Huh?" He looked around. Luthor and Erik were shaking their heads groggily, exhausted from the effort of creating hope in a place where it should have been impossible. "What happened? That was the Reaverschild you were fighting in the street by the Guild, right? Did you win?" Urcohea helped 'Raelf to his feet. "We're still here, dude, what d' _you_ think?" He looked around the room, then weaved over to a dark corner. Urcohea followed, wondering for a moment why he couldn't see what was in there. After the second time his eyes slid off the corner, he smiled and activated his wards against mental illusion. There was some sort of elemental distortion field surrounding a humanoid, and 'Raelf just walked into it. The archmage shielded his eyes from the rising brilliance, but before it got to an unbearable level, it stopped, and the distortion field was gone. 'Raelf picked up something that resembled a rose in silver and blue metal, and stuck it into one of the pockets on his bandolier. "What happened to the other one?" "Uhm, which other one would that be, dude?" 'Raelf looked tired and sore, but not as exhausted as he had seemed a minute ago. He walked over to where Luthor and Erik were coming to, and Urcohea followed him back again, beginning to feel annoyed. "The other guy in the corner!" "What guy in the corner? Do you see anyone but me here?" 'Raelf knelt between the two Shadow Makers, and checked their pulses. "Luthor, how many fingers am I holding up?" The blond mage waved a hand in front of the gold-skinned half-elf, watching to make sure that he was able to focus. Urcohea tapped him on the shoulder. "Look, 'Raelf, I need to know what's happening _now_, unless things are still going on." "Cool, hold on a minute. <> There, now Urco, if you can hold on until he gets here, these guys really helped me out a lot. Y'all can grill me in a minute." "Fine." Urcohea paced over to where the Beta team were trying to figure out what happened to Nescie. Dieter and Coral were giving their own depositions, and Lane was setting up the intrusive scan. It would be rather messy, but it was in their contracts; they had known what they were getting into when they choose to work in Mage Guild Security. After a few minutes, 'Raelf walked in the door, or at least someone who looked an awful lot like him. He went straight over to where Luthor and Erik were being given water by his doppleganger. Urcohea followed close behind him. "Hey, Lex, thanks for comin' by so fast. I gotta do the debrief thing," and 'Raelf stood up and handed the water pitcher to his doppleganger. Urcohea looked curiously at them; the new arrival was about two inches taller than 'Raelf, and more powerfully built, but otherwise the faces were the same. "You never registered a twin brother, 'Raelf," Urcohea commented. "He wasn't here before. Urcohea, this is Lex." "Pleasedtomeetyou. 'Raelf, will you please debrief now?" "Sure thing, dude. Pull up a chair. Hey, H'ro, is there any of that Catamount Porter left?" The big redhaired barbarian who was keeping the rabble away from the bar grinned at 'Raelf and shook his head, "You drank it already, you bheerhound. There's Grakhma though." 'Raelf shuddered. "Some of that wolf whiz he sells for beer then." H'ro laughed and brought over a pitcher of something cloudy and yellow, then shouted and threw an empty mug at one of the regulars who was trying to get into the kegs behind the bar. It hit square on the fellow's pointed head, and shattered, and he slumped to the ground. H'ro clapped a hand on 'Raelf shoulder and laughed -- "Two points. Don't wait up, I'll be here for a while." 'Raelf nodded, and glared at the stuff in the pitcher. Urcohea caught a whiff of it and winced, turning his face away. "Hey, Lex, can you do something about this stuff?" The other blond mage grinned and pointed a finger at the pitcher, muttering <beer>> and it cleared and bubbles began forming along the sides. "OK, Urco, you wanna do this here, or shall we go back to the Guild?" "We'll get the initial deposition here." "Cool. Fire away," 'Raelf glared at a mug, and dumped the contents onto the floor, creating a slightly less dirty spot. He wiped the inside with one edge of his poncho, and then poured. "What happened to Nescie?" "He was the first one, Mar got into him about three months back, as far as I could tell. Some kind of a black splinter originally, I guess. Anyway, Nescie didn't have the right kind of wards to keep him out, and I guess it took less than a minute before it was in control. So it hid out inside him until it could start doing its thing with the local gods. They like to destroy hope in a world before they completely drain it." "Hid out inside him?" "Yeah, it laced itself along his bones and through his power meridians so it could feed on his life force. Gnarly, huh?" "Whatever. How did Nescie survive this in one piece?" "Oh, that. Dude rewrote his body, wanted to make sure his host was able to handle the kind of forces he was throwing around. Archetypal stuff. Anyway, Dariel didn't want him to die, and that was part of the outcome he chose." "The woman?" "She was a friend of Nescie's, ended up getting used in Mar's plans. Real bummer. He made her into a shield against Dariel." "And what happened to Dariel?" "That was the other part of the outcome he chose." 'Raelf grunted, then took a sip of his beer. "Actually," he continued, "he gave me a record to listen to sometime. I guess we've got the time." He reached into his bandolier, pulled out a disk made of a translucent, clear material, and set it on the table. Engraved upon it were two pairs of parallel lines tilted slightly to touch at a sharp angle. After a second it pulsed once with their expectation, and Dariel's voice, warm and gentle, began to speak. *I'm sorry, Master, but I never wanted to do this...* ---- Comments, compliments, and complaints can be conveyed to: Bernie Hsiung (bshsiung@eecs.umich.edu) MagicHutchHeader Date: Sunday, 11 Jul 1993 15:16:44 EDT From: JILL <34EP2A2@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93192.15164434EP2A2@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [BBD] Welcome to My Parlor References: <93189.164918344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Arienne was enraged. "How bloody many times do I have to go through this wi th you men? Criminy." Although she could think of much worse epithets to utte r, none seemed strong enough for the situation. sSo, the ever-faithful dagger sprung from her sleeve to her waiting palms and gleemed. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: taz@media.mit.edu (Brian Shea) Subject: [Roger] [A] Jacob Message-ID: <1993Jul14.114417.987@news.media.mit.edu> Date: Wed, 14 Jul 1993 11:44:17 GMT ADMIN: The [Roger] thread is going to now be known as the [A] thread, standing for Amaliza, the name of the Sylvan Elf Kingdom. Enjoy ! Jacob turned the orc's slash with his longsword and thrusted with the shortsword wielded in his left hand. His thrust struck home, driving up between the orcs ribs and into his heart. Jacob slipped the shortsword from the body, and moved to put the body between him and the remaing two orcs. The two orcs moved towards him warily and started to circle. Jacob didn't wait for them to get ready. With a snap of his wrist, he launched the shortsword at one of the orcs and lunged at the second one, the blade of his longsword parallel to the ground. The first orc flinched and dodged, and the second one was distracted enough that he couldn't effectively block the lunge. As a result, the longsword fatally wounded the orc but was caught between his ribs. As the orc fell, the longsword was wrenched from Jacob's grasp. Jacob, now unarmed, turned his attention back to the first orc in time to see his mace start to came whistling down. Jacob quickly lowered a shoulder and launched himself at the orc and within the range of the overhand strike. The breath was knocked out of the orc, and the mace went flying. Jacob stepped back and smiled. "Tough break, eh?" He then drew the bowie knife from his boot with a flourish, and lunged at the orc. The orc stepped to the side and barely had time to notice that he had avoided an empty hand before the knife in Jacob's other hand ended his life. "Works every time," Jacob thought to himself. He then quickly searched the bodies and put the few coins he found into one of the pouches on his belt. "I'm sure these will do someone some good." Jacob then set of through the Great Forest, leaving the bodies and the rest of their possessions for the scavengers, both natural and otherwise. Jacob was a ranger, and a damn good one. He knew these woods as well as anyone; he had practically grown up in them. His father had been a trapper, working out of Specifica of Furs, and he had taken Jacob with him since he was very young. When his father had been killed by thieves, Jacob had become determined to avenge his death. He had long since done so, and had dedicated his life to preventing the same thing from happening to others. Over the years, he had definitely had an impact. Lately, though, things had been changing. The woods were becoming hostile. It had been a gradual thing, and even Jacob hadn't noticed at first. It started as grumbles by the trappers that the animals were getting to be meaner, trying to kill the trappers instead of escape from them. Then, the goblins and orcs started to become more numerous. It took a while before Jacob was able to learn that they were moving away from the center of the forest because they were afraid of something there. Finally, the Sleepless had appeared. They were as big as ogres, but had mottled grey skin and were hairless. The thing that made them unusual, though, was that they never slept. Or at least not much that Jacob had seen. He had trailed one for nearly three days until he had finally had to give up due to exhaustion. The creature seemed to get tired if it exerted itself and would then rest, but it never seemed to get fatigued due to being awake and alert for a long time. The other thing about them was that they killed anything they encountered, with the sole exception of other Sleepless, and take the bodies off towards the center of the forest. The center of the forest was a dangerous place, and Jacob had never been willing to follow them long enough to see what they did with the bodies. He suspected they ate them. Jacob had started to kill Sleepless whenever he could, but they had started to travel in small packs. Now, he killed them whenever he found them alone or in pairs. Things had continued to get worse, and Jacob had finally decided to travel to the center of the forest and see what he could learn. The situation had to be dealt with, and Jacob wasn't one to shirk what he perceived as his duty. ----- Jacob Greenfeet aka The Jolly Roger aka Brian Shea aka taz@athena.mit.edu Hello, comments more than welcomed - responed to! :) MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] End of the End Message-ID: References: <93190.095253ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Date: Wed, 14 Jul 1993 17:51:19 GMT [ADMIN] Last of the Trawma Team postings. Thanks to Dreamer and Bernie and Liralen and Kelly and Penny and who have I forgotten? ====== The Spitting Cobra was a crowded place this evenign, but not for the usual reasons. Some of the regulars were here, but most of them were out in the streets, unable to enter because of the warding spells or blessings or whatever the barrier was that surrounded the Cobra. Almost three hours had passed since the usual opening time, with no hint that Trawm was going to let customers in, and anyone who could find a better place to be, had already done so. Off in the barely rebuilt Scrappy Ram, the barkeep (Verdigren, don't call him a dwarf if you value your cojones) was surprised at the number of customers who were coming into his place. Trawm lay unconscious on the floor beside his battle pit. His head had completely reattached itself to his body, but the big barbarian who was cleaning up the mess around the bar was letting him sleep. Besides, the regulars who were still here (because they'd been passed out in the corners and under tables) kept clear of the barbarian, largely from fear, and they kept clear of the other people in the bar for similar reasons. For instance, the chorus of priests. It looked like every temple and faith in Generica had felt compelled to send missionaries to the Spitting Cobra. Their Gods Had Spoken, it seems, directing them to make tracks and help the good guys in every way possible. Not that it seemed to help much, since there was nothing they could see that needed help. A few of the younger ones had tried to start up a group hymn-sing among the regulars, and when that backfired and they were healed of their injuries, the whole clot of clergy had been rallied by the old hermit who had showed up before the Storm a few weeks back, and who hadn't been seen since then. At least praying gave them something to do. Of course, the Mages' Guild had to get involved. They'd sent a group of three, Beta team they were called, and the Archmage of Internal Security himself, and an observer for the Acting Supreme ArchMage, to the Spitting Cobra, once things had finally settled down enough to show that as the focal point for whatever was happening. They got there just as things were ending -- the crowd parted in front of them. Riot control spells were good for that sort of thing. Urcohea led them inside. The ShadowMakers had been doing something, but now they were almost flat on the floor. And in the middle of the small kitchen floor, was a heap of bloody rags that was collecting up feathers, and a strange-looking man whose body looked like it was part of a carnival mirror, changing shape and substance with each change of perspective. Three other figures, made of light and fire, appeared then vanished. Urcohea recognized one of them from a description Dariel had given him some weeks past, a Warrior of Hope. Then Urcohea spotted his two proteges, Dieter and Coral, sitting together on a bench, with Coral trying to make Dieter hold still while she checked him for injuries. He signalled to Beta team to check them over, and moved to take care of the fallen body of Nescie, the carnival-mirror man. Who just happened to be the missing Archmage of Education and who should _not_ be involved in this. On the way, he came across someone who might be able to tell him what had happened. Right. Just try to get 'Raelf to say anything in plain simple Common. After a few minutes of being ignored (Journeymen do _not_ ignore Archmages, but this one seemed to have an attitude problem) and a few more minutes of being distracted by bizarre things, Urcohea was able to drag 'Raelf over to a table, where he was able to get something like an initial deposition. And 'Raelf brought out a strange recording allegedly left by Dariel, a "last testament." While the recording played, an argument was mounting by the battle pit. "This is a _holy_ place, the battle between Hope and Reaving was _won_ here, we _must_ bless this site." The speaker was a man in russet robes, trimmed in gold, with a shepherd's crozier in one hand and a prayer wheel in the other. "Yes, it must be consecrated, a temple must be raised here." This speaker was a woman, head shaven, wearing the tattoos of the Goddess of Mercy and Childbearing. "I don't think so." The third speaker was dressed in the common attire of a wandering hermit, an ascetic priest who spent his time in the wilderness. "But the gods will demand it! And this ... this den of iniquity, this hovel, it is so unfitting." A fourth man, in heavy vestments of stark black, stepped forward. "I know a world where the Immanence manifested in a stable, a room filled with cow dung and flies. You may not take this man's business and convert it into a temple." The hermit did not yield. "But the gods ..." The priestess started. "You can speak only for those gods whose service you perform, each of you. I can speak for the man who owns this place. You may not steal from him, and you may not give credit for this victory to any of your gods. This battle was won by a sacrifice none of your gods could have made, and it was won by the combined belief and will and hope of all the sentient creatures of Generica and Nexus. Your gods helped, but their measure was no greater than the least of the poorest of the tunnel gnomes in this city. Your gods have Power, collected and hoarded, and they gave a trifle of that Power. The people of the sewers have nothing and less, and they gave their Hope and their belief. You tell me now who gave more." The priests didn't speak at first. Then an acolyte said, in a quiet voice, "Can we at least say a blessing here?" "That would depend on whether the owner wants it, now. You can all certainly give thanks to your gods for their help. That hurts nobody. But keep the bindings and wardings and blessings to yourselves, until you've asked permission." The hermit turned to the still-unconscious Trawm, lying on the floor at his feet. "Now, brother halftroll. Wake up." Trawm opened one blindingly yellow eye. There was no iris or pupil visible, but the eye rolled around a bit, and eventually the purple iris came around to the front, the pupil contracting a bit. "Urg. Gawd that must have been a good fight." "No, you tore your own head off." "Oh. Oh yeah," Trawm opened the other eye. The green iris came wandering out to the front after a few moments, and both eyes finally managed to focus. "Whu happen'd ta tha thing in tha kitchen? Is id gone yet?" "It's gone. Trawm, all these good people want to ask you a question. Do you feel good enough to stand up yet?" The halftroll grunted and found his feet, then put them under his thick body. "What good people? How'd dey get in my bar?" "Over here." The hermit pointed to the arrayed panoply of the clergy of Generica (less a few). "Org. Wha!" Trawm jumped back, startled. At the bar, the giant redheaded barbarian in the fur loincloth and macho leather armor started to laugh, but it didn't keep him from smashing a fist down on the hand that was reaching behind the bar for a bottle of something its owner hadn't paid for. "You tell 'em, Trawm," the barbarian shouted. Trawm wheeled around, staggering a little. "Hey, what's you doin' behin' da bar dere?" "Keeping the rabble from drinkin' ya dry, without payin'." "Oh. T'anks. Gohds I'm thirsty." "There's some troll-ale in that pitcher," the hermit said, pointing to a table where Trawm was sure there had been an empty pitcher. It was full, anyway. Tasted just like the usual stuff. "Mister Trawm?" He let his eyes focus again -- the ale had moved them off in different directions again -- and then almost regretted it. The speaker was a priestess, with tattoos and stuff all over her shaved head. Almost good looking. He leered, and she moved back. "Mister Trawm, we wanted to make this place into a holy shrine, if you don't mind." The half-troll's jaw dropped. "Whu? Why wouldja wanna do dat?" "Because, there was a great battle won here." "No shit? An' I was out of it? Oh damn. I mis't da battle." Trawm's face was covered by an expression that, on something less ugly, might have been sadness. "Don't worry, Trawm," the barbarian shouted, "There wasn't any good punching or eye gouging. It was all magic an' philosophy. Boring." Trawm brightened considerably. "Den I guess I din't miss nothin'." "Mister Trawm?" The priestess tried to catch his attention again. "Whut?" "The shrine?" "What you pay me for it?" "Pay you?" The clergy was collectively taken aback. "Yeah, pay. Money, cash, moolah, janglies, shekels? Da stuff ya can spend?" Trawm rubbed his fingers in the traditional sign of the Merchant's Guild: feeling the coin. "Uhm. Perhaps we'll need to negotiate this with our superiors." There was a mass exodus. "Dat's okay. I ain't wantin' dere jangles anyhow. When I opened dis place I got lotsa money from da Vashanu priest dat was my pal. He said dat da he was gonna pay for da bar and make it a temple of da War God and all I gotta do is keep da fights goin'. I sez to him, dat's fine wif me 'cause I like fights anyhow." Trawm reached inside his blood-stained shirt and brought forth Vashanu's symbol; a wavy-bladed sword of dark metal, "Dis is da temple an' I is da High Holy Guy of Fights. Ain't dat a good deal?" Trawm showed a smile of broken teeth and fangs, all of which seemed to be out of place and pointing at the wrong angles. The hermit patted Trawm on his misshapen back and chuckled, "I don't think the other 'holy guys' would appreciate your position. We'd better keep it between us, okay?" Trawm shrugged. "It don't matter ta me, as long as I keep gettin' rich an' da fights keep goin'." The hermit smiled, watching the crowd outside rebounding as they tried to get in. "They're some of the finest servants the gods ever had. Too bad they didn't unward the door." Trawm's head snapped around again. "Whatcha mean, unward da door?" "It was too crowded in here, earlier, and I think they used the old `Protection from Evil' spell, to make sure nobody else came in. Of course, this is a temple, so the whole building is warded." "Well, make 'em get rid of it!" "Perhaps we ought to wait until these mages are done?" Trawm looked over at Beta Team. A bunch of magicians from the Guild, crowded around a _ewwg_ Trawm decided not to look at the guy, 'cause it made him want to tear his head off again. So he looked at the other ones instead. There was two kinda beat-up lookin' folks, and four magicians with letter "b" on their sleeves, and then this other sort of nondescript fellow popped in from nowhere, carrying a box the size and shape of a coffin for a halfling. "What dey doin?" Trawm asked the hermit. "They're trying to see if it's safe to take the young couple and the injured archmage back to the Mages' Guild Hall." "Whatcha mean, safe?" "I think they want to be sure they wouldn't explode or die or anything," the hermit said, smiling. "Oh. If dey explode, I wouldn' hafta paint again for a week." Trawm went back to the bar, relieving the barbarian, who had injured several more customers (Trawm noted happily). From his safe vantage, he watched the mages speculatively, hoping something messy would happen. He could duck down behind the bar, if it did, so he wouldn't have to bathe afterwards. He noticed a tray under the bar with a bit of troll-flesh growing on it, and took a whiff. His own. He vaguely remembered it being trimmed off his neck before he was put back together, and started to eat it absently. Not a good idea to let it grow into another Trawm. He'd have to share the money from the bar an' the fights. When the new magician with the coffin opened it up, and took out some weird looking glassware, Trawm wasn't impressed, but then the guy also took a strange looking dagger and drove it through the arm of each of the young folks, coming up with a chunk of flesh and blood and bone, which he put into two different flasks. They did some kind of magic thing to stop the blood, which disappointed the half-troll. The magician tried to do the same with the urky looking distorted guy, but he didn't seem to cut. The barbarian walked over. "Can I help?" "I doubt it." The man looked sideways at him. "Who are you?" "You can call me H'Ro. You need a whole core sample, or would just skin and a little flesh do it?" "I'd like the core, but I'll make do. Hey!" The barbarian pulled out his big BLACK runesword, and admonished it again: "You be nice, we just want a sample, and no vorpalling." It moaned and whined in response, but the barbarian was adamant. After a moment, he whispered something into Nescie's ear, then using the BLACK runesword, carefully cut off a small bit of the unconscious man's finger. "That's the normal flesh," the barbarian grinned, "Now for the weird stuff." He leaned over and whispered to the unconscious man, and then cut a tiny sliver of something sparkling off one shoulder. "There ya go, Leo," the barbarian said, "Samples." The Archmage of Artifice and Production narrowed his eyes at the big redhead, who turned his back and returned to the bar, where he started talking with Trawm again. And he was _eating_ some of that stuff with the rat in it. Leonaco swallowed convulsively and returned to his work. After a few more minutes, the recording finished. "Farewell, Master. May the Beacon Shine Forever." The voice stopped. Urcohea frowned. "I still don't believe it." "Station. I didn't like being bait, either, but we got the bastard." "You fought off a third of this thing?" Urcohea frowned. The blond mage still looked like a twenty-year-old kid to him, on the surface, and the flickering elemental that was visible if you looked correctly wasn't especially impressive. "Hey, I'm lucky, and I cheat. Besides, it cost me a lot more than you realize. I'll give you the deets back at the guild, where you have wards up, where I can talk without letting everything in the universe know all about me." "Agreed," the Archmage looked around. "Leonaco, good to see you finally got here. Anything to report?" "Negative," Leo said at last, "There's no trace of anything overt here, but this needs further study. I'm going to send Beta team back with the rest. What's that on the table there?" "Private mail," 'Raelf replied, and started to put it into his bandolier. "I'm supposed to give it to someone from the Beacon of Hope." "Can I see the recording method?" "I doubt it, but you can certainly _look_ at it," 'Raelf said, not ingratiating himself, again. "'Raelf, please, don't antagonize him," Urcohea said in a tired voice. "Sorry. See, it's made out of frozen photons, I haven't figured out what keeps it from disappearing, and the message is recorded as a holographic block of information, compressed archetypes." Leonaco was scanning the thing with a collection of wands and gadgets from his pockets. Finally he frowned, and handed it back to 'Raelf. "No identifiable magic of any known kind. I wish we could study it more. Frozen photons, you say?" "Yeah. Like some of the stuff that was plugging up Dieter and Nescie, only permanent. Hmm. Looks like Dieter's almost back to human again. Good, I was afraid he'd have long term effects. Ow, that hurts. Remind me not to do that for a week." Leonaco looked surprised at 'Raelf, and held up a device made out of multiple lenses and gratings. "Your elemental field is jittery. It wasn't the last time I saw you. What's wrong?" "I almost fried during the fight, dude," 'Raelf replied. He slumped back, only to be supported by his twin, Lex, who had appeared from the kitchen with amazing speed. "Hey, bro, you better get some playtime soon, you're about to fall over." "Gotta go with the honchos here, finish debriefing." "Then take a nap," Lex admonished. "Are you out of your mind?" "No, you just lean back and I'll talk to the nasty men." 'Raelf smiled, and closed his eyes. "What else do you need to know that we can tell you here, gentlemen?" Lex clasped his arms around the slighter form of his otherself. "What was all that stuff in the corner?" Urcohea asked. "Stuff? Do you mean the rose or the s-e-p field or the remerger?" "Uh, all of it." "OK. We use a special kind of illusion called a `someone elses problem' to keep people from getting too close to certain kinds of hazard. Like, the Thing which is floating about fifty yards above the Plaza of Glittering Steel, which is the cause of the majority of the time distortions here. It's got an S-E-P on it to keep people from panicking and trying to get rid of it; it would be messy and rather deadly if anyone actually did manage to destroy it. And the rose was a device that we built, actually I think it was Kev's node that did the real work. It lowers the index of perfusion, allowing the fundamental harmonics of the archetypal warp to separate in a semirandom but temporary fashion, resulting in a very constrained field of s-C'sch'Kan-normal space. My brother was using that field to enable his adaptive response to react to the immense energy overload that was coming from my tap on the WorldGate, from my timebrother's tap on the Ley lines, and from the gestalt belief focus that is currently being sent backtime by my other timebrother who is currently giving a command performance for Melwiss the Wise. Anything else?" Leonaco was frowning with disbelief, and Urcohea was just holding his head, wondering if the headache had to come with the job. "No, it doesn't," the blond mage replied, and tossed him a small blue sphere. Urcohea caught it, reflexively, and it popped in his hand. The headache was gone. "Fatigue toxins, dude, you need to make sure you get more rest." "Uh, yes. I do. I think you've answered my questions. Leo, anything else?" Urcohea watched, bemused, as 'Raelf slept, Lex's right hand still gently keeping him from falling back. "Yes, actually. What's that red crystal your friends hid away a few minutes ago, and what's that fascinating map they've got there?" "The crystal is a chunk of chaos, a focus for probability. I can't really tell you much more about it, without getting into very complex mathematics. The map is a probability model of Generica. I think Erik did a remarkable job with it considering that the temporal manifold here is especially twisty and tortuous." Leon squinted at the two ShaodwMakers. "I don't think I've seen them in the guild meetings. Are they foreigners?" "Yes and no. They are from Faerun, off through the iron gate south on the trade road, but Luthor has a place here." Leon's face flushed hot. "And they're practicing magic without registry? I don't care if they're your friends, this has to be reported." "Calm down dude. They've done nothing wrong, they don't use magic. At least, not anything the Guild is prepared to handle." "What about that crystal? And the map of Generica with the flickering field? That isn't magic?" "The crystal isn't magical, dude. It won't even focus mana. The map is a nice piece of workmanship, and it does _look_ like it follows the laws of sympathy and contagion, but there's no magical carrier at all. None of is is 'magic'." "I find that hard to believe." Leon remained sceptical. "I want to talk to them. We need more than the word of _another_ unregistered magician for proof." "I wouldn't mess with them if I were you." Lex sighed in frustration. He called across the room, "Erik, come over here for a sec, please?" Erik left his work on the model and joined them. "What do you need Lex?" Erik asked with a bright smile on his face. "Erik, this is Archmage Leonaco, from the Mage's Guild. Leonaco, this is Erik, the ShadowMaker." Erik bowed politely to Leonaco. "Well met, Leonaco." "And you Erik. Lex here tells me that you don't use magic." "That's right. I alter the flow of probability." "Then what's with that model and the crystal? You can't tell me that you get that kind of power without magic." "Yes I can, because it's the truth." Lex broke in before either person became offended, "I have an idea." *flick* in Lex's hand was a small sphere of bright crystaline purity. "This is an archtype of Truth. If Erik holds it in his hand and lies, it will break." Erik accepted the sphere willingly. He cleared his voice and then said with confidence, "Neither Luthor nor I use magic." A small flaw appeared in the crystal. Erik looked puzzled for a moment and then corrected himself, "Okay, we do own a few magical items. Things like Luthor's bow and Mista's baby watcher, but neither Luthor nor I am capable of casting any sort of spell." The flaw in the crystal disappeared. Erik turned to Leon. "Satisfied?" "No, not yet. What about the model and the crystal? Did you make them? Are they magical?" "We found the crystal. It's not magical. As for the model, I made that, but again, it's not magic." Leonaco's curiosity had been roused. "How does it work," he asked, almost suppressing an eager note in his voice. "The model is made to match Generica in every detail. It took days, but with a little luck, it worked out. The red haze you see floating above the city is a patch of silk from a rainbow spider. It floats on the heat given off from the model's surface. It's extremely light -" "Then why does it move and ripple like that?" Leonaco interrupted. "I was getting to that part. I worked the silk square so it's pattern of floating exactly matches the probability field of Generica. With it, I can watch for probabilistic anomolies such as the pocket reality that was in the 'Cobra's kitchen." "Probability model? Uhm. Can I you show it to me later?" Erik smiled. "I suppose. It can't hurt." Lex relaxed a little, and looked down at 'Raelf still sleeping against his hand. "Great. Leo, you probably should send a letter to Shadehaven to get an appointment set up, because I think Erik is going to be busy for a few days." He winked at the surprised Shadowmaker. "Thanks." Leonaco went back over to where Beta team was setting up a levitation carrier for Nescie. "All ready?" 'Raelf said, eyes opening wide, as if he hadn't been asleep. He looked much more sure of himself. "Certainly. Thank you, Lex. I'll send your brother home before too longer, so he can get some real rest. Oh. I almost forgot. Kardia was injured in an accident at the Guild Hall, but she'll be ok." "I know," Lex interrupted. "She's in intensive care, she'll be getting out sometime ... not tomorrow, the next day." "How did you find that out?" Urcohea looked askance at Lex. The blond mage grinned, stretching out the arm that he'd used to keep 'Raelf from falling over. "Call me psychic, dude. I just know stuff. It gets really lame." "All right. I'll have Rivy add you to the registry then." "Great. Hey, add 'Raf too. He'll be around for a while." "Who's 'Raf? Nevermind, I'll get the information from your brother." Urcohea walked over to where the evacuation team was about to open the pathway to the Mages' Guild Hall. "Cool." Lex watched as the Beta team, the Archmages, and 'Raelf, all vanished through a circle-gate. "So Erik," he said, "What was that offer you were going to make about visiting you at ShadeHaven?" Lex grinned, and pulled a black staff shod with iron out of the air. "Wanna hitch a ride?" "Certainly," Luthor said, "But from outside. Serene is coming with real food, and we should catch her before she makes it all the way back here." "No prob," Lex replied. "She's just leaving the Inn, as we speak." "How do you know that?" Erik asked him. "Oh, I know lots of things," Lex replied, smiling. "It's a curse." Trawm watched them depart, then kicked the doorframe. "Hey! Damned ward still here. Priest, can you fix?" The barbarian looked up from where he was armwrestling with three of the regulars, and grinned. "Hang on a sec, he'll be here." MagicHutchHeader Trawm stepped back to let the small crowd stumble, crawl, and fight their way in. The Spitting Cobra was open for business. MagicHutchHeader From: dnichols@engr.latech.edu (Dennis Nichols) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [A] Brawl in the Dragon's Inn Date: Wed, 14 Jul 1993 18:18:18 GMT Message-ID: Traveler awakens from his night's sleep feeling relaxed and easy. He picks up his sword and takes a step toward the door, stops short, and turning, he says, "I will not need this today, today I rest." This said, he goes downstairs to the bar and reclines in the chair saved for him. Looking around, he sees all the familiar faces, orders his food, and relaxes. After a while, a boisterous red-bearded man in armor bursts through the door, finds a table, orders mead, and looks around the room. He is definitely a man from the northern kingdom, Traveler had been there many years ago. Traveler wonders aloud, "That is a barbaric place, I wonder what he is doing here?" Traveler mused over this, but only for a moment, because there was a sudden commotion at the next table. A hulking giant of a man, his face reddening, leapt up from his seat and dashed his drink into the face of his companion. Both men wore uniforms -- they were probably mercenaries on leave, recently paid and now drunk and belligerent. The other man stood up too, knocking his seat over. "Why, you son of a whore," he growled. The first man took a swing. It was a haymaker, clumsy and too slow. The other man dodged, then his left fist shot out, striking the first man square in the jaw, which only served to enrage him. He let out a senseless yell, almost a scream, threw the table on its side, then lunged, fists flying. Traveler hung back for a fraction of an instant, then jumped to his feet and dove into the fray. At nearly the same moment, the red-bearded barbarian he'd noticed earlier came charging in. Travler wondered for a moment if he was going to have to deal with three opponents or just one. The hulk swung at his opponent and missed, nearly taking Traveler's head off in the process. Traveler saw the slow punch coming and ducked under the arm, grabbing it at the wrist and elbow.h The hulk noticed his arm being pulled and had the sensation of flying, until his large body hit the ground with a force that shook every glass in the Dragon's Inn. He was out cold and never even flinched. Traveler turned to watch as the barbarian finished off the other. The barbarian was landing solid punches on his larger opponent. To Traveler, with his adept's reflexes, both men seemed slow, but the barbarian was clearly a better fighter than the other man, who lashed out blindly despite his military garb. The barbarian slammed his fist into man's side, stomach, and then several quick blows to the head. The man staggered back, then fell. The fight was over as quickly as it had begun. Traveler reached out to shake hands with his impromptu ally. "Nice job there, you seem to be well acquainted with fighting." The barbarian grinned. "God's teeth, I thought he wouldn't ever fall down. And you're a handy fighter yourself, by Christ. I'd like to know where you learned a few of those tricks, I would. The name's Edwin, by the way, Edwin of Witwater-upon-Avelard, at your service." "Quite the name, I'll never remember all of it. Mind if I shorten it a bit?" Traveler asked with a grin. At that time, two men burst throught the door. Traveler thought to himself, "This is going to be a busy day." Edwin and Traveler looked up as the door to the inn opened. Two sylvan elves entered the inn, both wearing dark green leather armor, carrying strange short swords at their waists, and looking worn. Their skin was as green as their eyes, and those were quickly and warily scanning the inn. Traveler noticed that one of the elves was bleeding from a thigh wound. The door opened a second time, and a grunt could be heard from behind the door. One of the elves grabbed and held the door as a human dressed in black leathers entered the inn, carrying a third elf over his shoulder. Dried blood covered the elf's armor - he looked to be either severely wounded or dead. Traveler heard Edwin's breath catch as the man's eyes passed over them. The man's irises were jet black and the pupils were white and shaped like skulls. Traveler whispered in surprise, "Roger." "You know them?" Edwin asked Traveler. "I know the human." The human finally noticed Traveler, and his eyes widened. "So, it was real. I thought it had been a dream." "If only it had been," said Traveler, once again reunited with the Jolly Roger. It seemed that fate was not yet done with the pair. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: [MG] [Housebreaking] Rock Steady Message-ID: <1993Jul14.180410.9807@data-io.com> Date: Wed, 14 Jul 1993 18:04:10 GMT [ADMIN: This piece comes chronologically after 'Picking Up the Pieces' by Kelly J. Cooper and 'Street Crimes' by Penny and Steve Hutchison and a day after 'Healing Dreams'.] ----- The dark grey rock lay at the junction between sea and sky. The steady mass cradled the sturdy figure of Jameson Walker between the ever-changing clouds and surf. The sky above the rock looked carved from light and shadow, curtains of sunshine streamed between thunderheads the color of night and puffs that looked like bleached cotton. The water below the rock curled and fell with a crash and tumble that hissed away into a silence that was the merest breath before the next wave. The depth of the rock's darkness made the bird on Jameson's shoulder shine a white brighter than tears. The sight caused Kardia to pause and drink in the wind swept beauty. Everything around the rock and Jameson was in full flight, the broken mass of clouds swept by as plumes of mist from the breaking waves rose and fell; and Kardia found herself wishing that something would break Jameson's stillness. The white bird on the brown clad shoulder turned to look at Kardia as she walked towards them. Its eyes were the color of blindness, and Kardia found herself looking away. The shape of the rock comforted her. Its irregularity was of an expected kind. The wind and water worn surface glittered as a shaft of sunlight broke through. The stone was smooth to the touch and as cool as the kiss of the wind on her cheek. The hard smoothness stayed under Kardia's hand as she made her way around to take a look at Jameson. Jameson was settled in the center of the rock, her arms wrapped loosely around her knees. Her skin was red and puckered along her arms, where her shirt was pushed to her elbows. Above the collar of her shirt, thin white scars traced meaningless patterns around her throat. The cheek Kardia could see had the raw look of freshly healed burns and the brown hair was ragged in places where it had been shorn away. Jameson looked like a riot of pain, holding incongruously still. Jameson's eyes were turned towards the sea. Those eyes looked clear, as clear as if they had absorbed and become what they stared at, but they were still, as the water and wind were not. They never turned to focus on Kardia, even when she yelped at the strain to her ribs as she lifted herself up to sit next to Jameson. Kardia panted softly in pain and fatigue. Her heels kicked idly against the sides of the rock until she was sure that there was enough room for the two of them. She scooted back carefully and then rested some more. The solidity of her perch grounded her physically, and, from that grounding, she gradually regained her breath. Kardia breathed slow and steady and the pain in her side faded to a quiet ache. The rock had enough room for her to put her feet up on it, so Kardia hugged her knees to her chest and enjoyed the view and the feeling of having a solid, absolute foundation underneath her. Kardia relaxed into Jameson's stillness. Her quiet existence was like that of the rock, patient and still, allowing all else to move about her. Kardia shifted and moved into a half lotus position. She pulled a small leather bag from her waist, opened it and four slender, double pointed needles flashed bright under the sunlight. A strand of whiteness floated on the breeze like the foam that floated on the water and Kardia started putting one stitch in after another. The shadow of the rock grew slowly, steadily, before Kardia swallowed and spoke to the sea and sky. "Kam came up to the lighthouse today, told us about where you were, so I thought I'd come up and see. Kid's worried sick about you, was gonna give 'Raelf anything he asked for to see you well again. 'Raelf told him there wasn't anything he could do, the only thing would be time. 'Time and tide.'" Kardia frowned over her work and stabbed at a difficult join. "My side's healing O.K. The bullet only broke a rib. Leo said I was lucky I had my shawl on as the bullet was one of their exploding bullets, primed with magic. The shawl stripped the exploding magic away, so all it did was hit me. Kuso swears he didn't load it. Mighta been..." Kardia laughed softly and smoothed her work between long, slender fingers. She put two of the needles back into her bag. "Guess it doesn't matter, it's done with. They patched me up with solid stuff so that my shawl won't rip out the stitches or splint. Dash says she's put a Watcher on me so she can help keep me safe from now on. The rest of the healing seems to be up to me 'cause of the 'jack and implants." She grinned, "Always wondered if that was you walking on the 'kan's local bit of Matrix..." "'Raf, ar'Elya, Clyde and I are leaving in the morning to go track down Andrea and Sheryl. There were rumors of two unicorns leaving the gates the day that they disappeared, so we're going to track that down. The pain in my side's messing with my concentration, and Sister El'n says that the exercise'll do me good until I heal up totally." Kardia frowned and turned towards the still figure, "I... I'm not certain sure that I like knowing you're out here by yourself, but... well... ar'Elya said you'd be O.K. with the bird..." Kardia sighed and snapped the slender strand of thread from her work and put the remaining two needles back into her bag. She fished out a sewing needle and used it to tuck the end back into her work and for a moment looked at what she'd done with a cocked head. Kardia put the sewing needle back into her bag. She then hesitantly held out a finger towards the bird, which startled at her movement but didn't fly away. Her finger trembled a little as it moved towards those blank eyes, and then stilled when she touched the warm silk of its feathers. The bird pushed its head against her caress and Kardia swapped to her mage sight. For an instant she was blinded, as she had been when she had looked at the brown haired, blue eyed man that had answered to her call for help for 'Raelf. Then the brilliance was only a memory and she found the gentle web of light around the rock. Softly, she said, "Good." Then, to the gnarled surface of the rock, Kardia said, "Take care of yourself, Jameson W. Walker." The scarred surface looked a lot like the surface of Jameson's cheek, and Kardia looked up. "There are a lot of people that wish you well..." Kardia slid off the rock and held out what she'd been working on. The whiteness fluttered in the on-coming wind. She leaned forward and placed the dancing bit of whiteness under Jameson's still hand. The darkness of the stone and Jameson's clothes highlighted the white open work and the fragility of the lace butterfly. Kardia walked away, across the flowing dunes of the shoreline. Behind her, the stone at the edge between earth, water and wind simply existed, unburdened by that which sat upon it as lightly as the butterfly was cupped between two scarred hands. -- Liralen Li | "Looking down on empty streets, all she can see are li@inigo.Data-IO.com | the dreams all made solid, are the dreams made real." aka Phyllis Rostykus | - "Mercy Street" by Peter Gabriel MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: spider@zk3.dec.com (Spider Boardman USG/bossec) Subject: [Jac] Finding a gate Message-ID: References: Date: Thu, 15 Jul 1993 09:15:52 GMT [ADMIN: We skip a night and a half of uneventful travel, and rejoin the characters as they near their current goal.] The hair on Jac's neck rose, alerting him that his seeker spell had finally found the type of magic associated with a dimensional portal. He snapped to alertness, and picked up the control thread for that spell. Information came flooding into his mind. Direction--left 24 degrees--up 100 feet. Distance--intensity, compare to background--check time-delay-- --about 11 miles straight-line. Uncertainty--too much, send a tracer to pin it down--It's anchored there--it's just that big! That thing's big enough for a dragon in full flight! After a deep breath to calm himself, he placed his hand on Windrunner's neck. <> [Mental image. Current view ahead, pan down while zooming out, showing a dot in the landscape, a dashed line growing from there, proceeding around hills and rocks, converging with a shrinking circle coming from around the edges to make a blinking dot where the gate should be.] <> Windrunner turned slightly to his left. {{Is there reason to hurry? How long will you need to get us through once we reach the gate?}} <> {{I'm tired of this desert. We'll hurry a bit.}} Windrunner broke into a gallop for a while, then settled down to a canter. After a while, he started alternating a walk-run gait with the canter. Around an hour and a half later, they finally spotted a huge iron gate hanging in the gloom before them. "Talk!" demanded Windrunner. Jac placed his hand on the horse's neck again. {{Are you sure you didn't build this one?}} <> The horse snorted. {{Out of polished white marble, no doubt.}} Jac grinned. <> They stopped at a flat area about fifty feet from the gate. Jac spent some time grooming Windrunner, and got out some grain. "How soon?" the horse asked. "Seems to be a pretty good portal. It's not quite fully adaptive, though. I'll still have to set up a parallel path for us. Looks like an hour." Jac cast some runes. He sat down, crosslegged, and meditated on the gate for a while. He got up, unlimbered his staff, and started chanting words of power. The surface of the sand by the iron gate started to move, and a white marble archway started growing up out of the sand, forming leftward. Windrunner snorted. When his chanting was done, and the arch was complete, Jac replied. "Remember, it was your idea." "Hmph." Jac took out a brush and a pot of paint, and painted some symbols on the sides of the arch. He then packed everything away again. "Finished." He switched to a higher, nasally voice. "Is everybody ready?" Windrunner nodded. "Yeah!" said the sword on Jac's belt. "There'd better be something worth hunting in the this next place." Jac laughed. "You heard what they told me in the keep, M'arrella. If half of it was true, there should be plenty of game." He checked the girth on his saddle and mounted up. "Charge!" he yelled. Windrunner took off, and the group disappeared in a bright flash as the archway was consumed by the magic that sent them on their way. -- Spider Boardman spider@zk3.dec.com DEC OSF/1 development ...!decvax!spider I don't speak for DEC, and vice versa. MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Amaliza] In the Inn. Date: 15 Jul 1993 13:27:00 GMT Message-ID: <223lv4$nt1@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> ADMIN: Sorry, all. I'm changing the thread name again. ( Thanks Steve. :) Roger and the elves hurried down the street to the Dragon's Inn, wanting to avoid the city watch. Endo and Kayell entered first, the door closing behind them, and Roger grunted as he tried to open the door with Giarr's body over his shoulder. Kayell held the door, and Roger entered the commons room of the Dragon's Inn. He quickly scanned the room, and saw very few familiar faces. One of the faces he saw, though, surprised him greatly. Traveler was there, and he was with an armored warrior with a red hair and matching beard. "So, it was real. I thought it had been a dream," Roger said. "If only it had been," responded Traveler. The pair stared at each other for a moment, and they both knew that fate had brought them together again for some reason. "Littlefair, I need a room. Sorry, make that two." The transaction was quickly made, and Roger turned to Traveler. "Come on up, it looks like thats how its supposed to be." With that, Roger and the elves climbed the stairs to their rooms, eager to talk and decide what they were to do. The two rooms were adjacent to each other, and they gathered in the slightly larger one after a moments discussion. "What are we going to do with Giarr?" Roger asked. "He must be taken home to be given the honor of the farewell," said Endo. "I will do it," Kayell said, looking vehement. "Besides, until this wound heals properly I will be a hindrance more than a help. And someone should tell the queen that there is indeed something to her suspicions. It was no accident that we were ambushed in the forest." Endo looked thoughtful for a moment, and then spoke with a sigh. "Very well." He then gave Kayell a small pouch that clinked as he took it. "Buy a horse, you'll need one to carry... to carry the body." It still seemed impossible to Roger, and the elves as well, that Giarr wasn't a person anymore, but a body. "Well, that covers Kayell, but what are we going to do?" Roger asked Endo. "I was hoping that you would have some ideas." Endo stopped when there was a knock at the door. "Who is that?" "Probably Traveler," Roger said. He went to answer the door, loosening his katana in its scabbard on the way. "Who is it?" "Roger, its Traveler. I've come to offer my help." Roger then heard another person speak to Traveler, too softly to make out words through the door. "Edwin also wishes to offer his help. He was the man with the red beard from the commons." Roger gave the elves a questioning look, but they just shrugged their shoulders. Seeing that the decision was his, Roger opened the door, and Edwin and Traveler entered the room. ----- The Jolly Roger aka Jacob Greenfeet aka Brian Shea aka taz@athena.mit.edu | taz@media.mit.edu I really appreciate the comments, keep 'em coming! MagicHutchHeader Date: Wednesday, 14 Jul 1993 17:24:05 EDT From: JILL <34EP2A2@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93195.17240534EP2A2@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [BBD] Welcome to My Parlor References: <93189.164918344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Drawing both daggers, Arienne spun and fired them away at the looming target Yosef presented. The demon screeched, but did not appear to be much affected. "Of course. If it's not one demon, it's another," she groused, and clasped the parrot arm-band encircling her left bicep. "We'll see, my loveley, what we shall see," and her eyes narrowed dangerously. MagicHutchHeader Date: Wednesday, 14 Jul 1993 18:15:02 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93195.181502344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] Weapons Exchange [ADMIN: Ok, time to clear things up. The last thing the BBD had was the enemy charging to meet Our Heroes{tm}, and for a bit, we'll go into individual battles. This occurs before any [MG] posts w/ Lancos (what is it about that thread that makes timelines screwy? {:-)!}), BTW...] >Gutt Man had spotted Lancos, and charged at him. The child-killer >smiled in absolute delight, knowing the warrior could not effectively draw >his weapons in time to block his knives. When Lancos saw the leap, his mind whirled into high gear, going over his options and plans. First, he faked a surprised look, to give his opponent a dose of overconfidence. Then it was time for his counterattack, but he realized that to try to unsheath his weapons would only result in two wounds. Instead, he slid under the Gutt Man's dive, grabbing the child-killer's wrists tightly before he fully knew what was being done. The Gutt Man stopped his momentum as best he could, putting down his feet in order to prevent him from crashing into the ground head first. He didn't want to be out of this battle as quickly as he had the last, even if BBD could heal him like he had before. This was playing right into Lancos' plan, however. He used the built-up momentum to roll Gutt Man over, so that the warrior would hole more of a positional advantage. But then he saw the Thurlans quickly advance on him, all too eager to strike him in the back while he was preoccupied. Reacting swiftly, the warrior rolled back to the supine position -- spreading Gutt Man's arms wider, to the point where the knives could not easily be made to cut into him while doing so --, figuring that the daemons would not attack through Gutt Man just to get to him. The Gutt Man gleamed at this, figuring it was his own strength that caused the last shift. "Feel honored, Lancos." he spat out the last word, his rancid breath invading the warrior's face. "You'll be de first of me prey to die. I'll taste yous blood and dat of yous buddies today. Den I'll find dat Little Rat 'gain, an gets her, no matters _where_ she be. An I'll kill dat girl Lissa too, now dat BBD doesn't care about her!" Lancos tried to tether his anger, lest it affect his judgement, but he could not help but feel partly enraged at the threats. He decided to turn the tide towards his favor _now_, before his friends were hurt and before his hold on this position weakened. He slowly and precisely slipped his left hand lower on Gutt Man's right arm, and then brought his thumb down on the hilt of the weapon, in an effort to steady it. Shock filled him when the thumb was filled with a painful burning sensation at first touch, and he nearly lost his grip. The Gutt Man smiled further at this. "What's da matter, don't ya likes it? I bets you'll loves it den, when it slices up yous belly!" He took advantage of the slip, and thrust the knife towards Lancos as best as was possible. Gutt Man laughed a bit in pure joy when the blade pierced the warrior's armor and his skin, albeit only slightly. Lancos regrouped, cursing himself for allowing himself to be suprised. He wasn't finished yet, however, and prepared the same type of maneuver on the other blade while Gutt Man was busy gloating. He prepared for any type of defense from this blade, but this time felt no such pain. Placing his thumb firmly against the blade, he brought up his right knee and smashed it into Gutt Man's left arm. Gutt Man released a cry of "Ahhh!", and involuntarily lost his grip on the knife, the weapon staying in place only because of Lancos' thumb. The warrior seized the opportunity and grabbed the knife with his now unoccupied right hand. Then, pressing his advantage, he released the other arm, at the same time forcing Gutt Man away with his knees. Lancos rolled -- catching a scrape or two of daemonic claws for his troubles -- into a standing position, and swiped at the nearby daemons, trying to keep them at bay. Gutt Man, however, would not be discarded so easily. "Take one of _my_ weapons, will ya?" he yelled, his face contorted in anger. "I'll just haf ta do da same!" He rushed at Lancos, but while the warrior was defending high against the air-born daemons, attacked the belt the warrior wore. The knife sliced it on the left side, and Gutt Man reached for the sword that lay sheathed there. Lancos' choices were limited. If he tried to stop the Gutt Man from grabbing the weapon, he would again be open to the Thurlans' attacks. His only option was to try to grab the scimitar out of the right sheath while it was still available. The move cost him a wound in the leg, but when he felt the weapon in his left hand, he knew that it would be more than worth the effort. He jumped into the air so the the falling belt would not get entangled in his legs, slicing into a couple of Thurlans while he was at it. When he landed, he turned his attention towards the Gutt Man, who had had time to put the knife in his left hand and the sword in his right. Lancos knew he had no such opportunity, but that did not bother him; he knew he could fight well enough as it was, albeit rather awkwardly. They met each other, and for the first time exchanged blows, sword against scimitar and knife versus knife resounding for uncountable minutes. Lancos had the advantage in spped, and used the occasional free attack to damage a daemon. But Gutt Man's wildness was an aid on its own, and the two were equally often pressed back by the other. The few daemons in the area attacked with fury whenever the opportunity presented itself, making their presence felt by the warrior through several vicious slices, with ranges of effectiveness. Lancos gritted his teeth and redoubled his efforts. It looked like he would lose because of sheer numbers -- like he had in the first battle in Ak'Irneg. But he had also won when hope had been fleeting, and no insecurity would prevent him from going down fighting to his fullest, and enjoying every hint of victory he saw... ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mike Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [AU] [Housebreaking] Tripping Out Message-ID: References: <1993Jul14.180410.9807@data-io.com> Date: Thu, 15 Jul 1993 20:36:11 GMT [ADMIN] This happens after Liralen's "Rock Steady" post. It contains the work of several folks, but it was long enough ago that I no longer remember who all of them were for sure. 'Raf stuffed a few more things into the saddlebag. Four more bags of oats, a sack of apples, a camp cook set from the kitchen storage shelves. A large canteen of water. "You really want me ta carry all dat?" The kid sounded dubious, and the golden satyrlion laughed at the dolorous voice. "Clyde, you're a centaur now, remember? You can carry as much as a horse, no problem. Besides, you wanna eat, don't you?" "Well, yeah, but..." The young stal shrugged his human-shoulders. "Then c'mere." The saddlebags went over the young centaur's bodyjoint, and a second pair over his hindquarters. "Not bad, eh?" The satyrlion pulled the strap tight and showed him how they fastened, uptop, where he could adjust them himself. "Wow. I woulda thot dem bags would weigh a ton." "You're a lot stronger now." 'Raf clapped the stal on his back, and he turned around to face the satyrlion. "Right, I forgot. Hey, you sure it's okay dat we goes out lookin' for Jake an' da 'corn lady, I mean, Ol' Man Heartwell sez I can go wit' ya?" "He liked your story on the satyr band, didn't he?" 'Raf cinched the saddlebags a little tighter around Clyde's barrel. "Exhale, this has to be tight, don't want it chafing you." "He (oof) changed da words around. But he said I gots promise." "Good. We'll work on your writing then." "Thanks, 'Raf. You's a good teacher." Clyde flushed a little, red against his palomino-blonde coloring. "You really want to be a reporter, it's the least I can do." "So to speak," came the voice from the doorway. Kardia was there, walking carefully so as not to stress the bandage around her chest. "Oooh, m'lady, that looks right painful," 'Raf said, wincing in sympathy. "I can vouch for that," came a mellow baritone from behind her. Karl walked into the room behind her, holding his side ruefully. "I didn't realize this empathy thing would work both ways." Wearing her neutral form, ar'Elya walked in behind, laughing quietly. "You should have seen, 'Raf. He tried his usual line on her this morning, and as soon as he touched her he fell over." "Well, I was just being friendly." Karl grinned. "Besides, you wouldn't let me flirt with you, and Kardia is almost as cute." "You don't know what you'd be getting into, lad." ar'Elya smiled, and scratched him behind the right horn. "Oh man." The satyr leaned into her hand, moaning. "Karl, you remember the exercises yesterday?" 'Raf said, amusement in his voice. "Do your centering exercise now." "Hai, sensei." The satyr breathed deep, exhaled. "Hey, the pain went away. Why is that?" "You just teach that exercise to Anna and the twins, you're going to need to be able to keep out other people's sensations sometimes." "Sure thing. Hey, I wanted to visit Dougl today." "Ask Lex to work the gates for you. And wear the tunic, man." 'Raf's lion-tail twitched, as he glanced up and down at the nearly naked satyr. "Sure thing. I'm not gonna walk into the St. Cuthbert Academy in just a thong, 'Raf, I know they'd toss me out on my ear." He grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table and trotted out into the hall. "Are you sure you're up to the walk, Kardia?" Kardia nodded. "We really should find Andrea and Sheryl, and once that newspaper article showed up about unicorn hunters, well. I'll be fine, I've gone farther with much worse injury when I had to." ar'Elya examined the Kardia's posture, then shifted to the habit of Sister El'n. Clyde shied a bit at the sight. A younger woman in the same habit came into the room, carrying a pack labelled with a red cross. She handed the pack to Sister Eln', smiled and left. 'Raf stared at her, one eyebrow raised. "Nice effect," he said to himself. "Good role discipline." Sister El'n gave him a warning glare and opened the medical pack. "Kardia, come over here and let me examine that dressing. You gentlemen, just go about your business now, give her some privacy. No need to gawk." She waited til they had turned away before she lifted Kardia's loose shirt and removed the bandage, blinking back a silent tear at old whip scars on Kardia's back and sides. The crease over her ribs from the mage-guild bullet was healing well, the hardpack dressing had dissolved during the night, so the Reverend Sister applied a sterile antibiotic and then a clean dressing. "If you feel pain, we have a mild local anaesthetic but I'd prefer you not use it if you can avoid it. There's some ibuprofin in the kit too, but it might interfere with the complete operation of your implant eyes." "Thank you. I'll avoid it." She grinned wryly, shrugging her shirt back down around her body. "I'm not really all that skilled at horseback riding. Will this work with all the jolting and exertion?" "No problem, we're gonna be hoofin' it." 'Raf grinned, showing his feline dentalwork. "If it gets too rough I'll just drag out the hoverboard and you can sky ski, but I think the walking will do you good. You need to get into better shape if you want to be a better fighter." "A better fighter?" Kardia looked hesitant, and 'Raf smiled to himself. "All I want is to be a weaver." 'Raf nodded. "Uh huh. And not feel helpless when you don't need to and not be bothered by it when you can't help it." "Well..." Kardia frowned for a moment and then she smiled, "Yes, you're right." "Which means being a competent fighter in this town. And besides you need to be more fit anyway, and this should go a ways towards helping with that problem. Exercise, y'know, increase the pumpitude? Or at least stretch the legs." "Uhm. Yes, I guess walking would do that," Kardia said, flexing her gold foot introspectively, "Now that I can walk properly. This is still kind of hard to believe." "Hey, you look at the world with robot eyes and you think a foot prosthesis is hard to believe?" 'Raf blinked, catlike, and handed her a loaded backpack. "Well, with the eyes I started nearly blind, went through six months of interface training and adjustment. After that, this," she pointed her left toe and chuckled, "is unbelievable." She hefted the pack experimentally - 35 pounds. Not bad, and the straps were adjusted so they wouldn't pull on her shoulders much. Much better than her old leather travel sack. "I'm gonna go give some last minute instructions to Karl and the band, since Lex promised to keep his training on course while we're gone. See y'all by the travel-door." 'Raf left in the direction that Karl had gone. "I think this body is a bit old for the kind of travel we're going to be doing," ar'Elya observed, and with a kind of shake, she suddenly stood about four inches taller and had long copper hair in a braid down her back. She smiled and slung a knapsack across her right hip, a quiver of arrows on the left hip, and a bow-and-sword scabbard across her back. "Shall I bring my bow?" Kardia wondered. "Try out the draw position, if it hurts you probably shouldn't." She extended her left arm, then pulled back her right to her chin - the stretch wasn't really painful but she could feel it. She shook her head. "Better not. Oh well." "You _will_ want an alpenstock though." ar'Elya pulled a long pole with a hook on one end and a metal cap on the other, out of the knapsack. Kardia raised her eyebrows. "Is this more of that virtual matter, or is it real?" "Real, in this case. The knapsack has a dimensional sorter in it, so it can carry a goodly amount of stuff. The real thing is much more sturdy should we run into trouble." She checked their gear and nodded. "Time to go, daylight's wasting." 'Raf was waiting by the travel gateway outside by the garden. He had shifted shapes again, this time taking on a form something like a centaur, but still strongly leonine. He grinned at Clyde's expression of surprise. "Hey, how can I teach you about being a centaur without getting into it myself?" He adjusted the strap holding his pack on, and extended his staff to alpenstock length. ar'Elya snapped fingers, and the gate blurred in the middle. "The portal's set to take us to the northern gates. According to the guards, a pair of unicorns went out that way at incredible speed, about a week and a half ago. Have you got the scanners?" 'Raf picked up a polished wooden staff about six feet long from where it was leaning against the wall by the gate. "Clyde, you'll be carrying this one. It's designed to use as a weapon in an emergency. Right now, I want you to hold it in the middle, here, and keep it perpendicular to the ground." "What's dat mean?" "Like so, at right angles." "Ok, can do. So, what's it for?" "Well, once I turn on my staff you'll see. First we go through the gate." 'Raf bent down and stepped through the gate, followed by Kardia and a somewhat hesitant Clyde. ar'Elya followed last, closing the gate behind her. "Dis is great," Clyde grinned, looking out over the broad expanse of fields and empty spaces. Generica inside her walls was crowded, with buildings and people visible almost anywhere you looked. But out here, it was different. Houses still visible, and small towns around the steeples of their grange halls and temples, but there was so much empty space between things. The road led north and east. "OK, Clyde, you hold out your staff like I said." The centaur stal complied, and 'Raf matched the position with his own staff, and a curtain of pale green light appeared between the two staves. "Look at dat, wow," Clyde said, half-awestruck. "Dere's tracks showin' up dere on da ground." Indeed, looking through the curtain, green light outlined two sets of tracks, one larger than the other, but both the unique semi-split hoof shape of unicorn tracks. They went almost straight north. "I've got the next checkpoint identified," ar'Elya said quietly, and 'Raf tilted his staff slightly, making the green light vanish. They walked for several hours, following the tracks, stopping every six to eight miles to re-verify the trail. After about the second mile, Kardia found herself falling into a comfortable ground-eating loping walk that vanished the numb ache in her hip from the long months of having to hobble to protect her truncated left foot. She grinned at ar'Elya, who was matching strides. "Good thing she stuck to the road so far," the 'kan woman said, just in time for the trail to diverge off to the east through a forest. "Careful in here," 'Raf said, whiffing the air gently. "Clyde, do you smell that musky aroma?" "I... Yeah. Like old boots, kinda sour an' sneezy-feelin'." "That's goblin. But they'll leave us alone, if we don't get in their faces, so stay on the path. Raye, what's the standard toll here?" "Feels like ... three coppers, I think." "Great. Leave a silver wheel here at the start of the trail, and then let's go through very quietly." They made it through with no disturbance, though Kardia felt eyes on her from time to time, and the smell of goblins made Clyde sneeze once or twice. They passed through the small forest just in time to make camp in a small meadow, and ar'Elya went hunting, accompanied by a white-furred wolf that had joined them in the forest. She returned as the sun was setting, with four fat rabbits, which she efficiently cleaned and skinned. Meanwhile 'Raf had set up a dome-tent with walls, explaining it as a yurt; there was no natural way for it to fit into the place where he'd stowed it but he still insisted that it wasn't magical, and Kardia saw no lines of power running through it, other than the slight tagging that was visible on all of their packs and equipment. "If it ain't magic, how did it fit inside a' dat tiny pack?" Clyde said, skeptically, as 'Raf set up the campfire and ignited it with an old-fashioned flint and steel. "It's just fine fabric and a complicated armature, really," 'Raf protested. "You saw me open it up." "Synthetic spider silk and monocrys armature," Kardia muttered, disgusted. "Roughing it, he says. Airspaces sewn in for insulation. Metallized cloth backing. Real rough life." "Hey, I'm not gonna risk your getting sick," 'Raf replied, as the hunters returned. "Hi, Raye, good, you got fresh meat." He grinned and licked the fur on his hand. "Okay, Clyde, you go watch how she cleans the rabbits, and at lunchtime tomorrow I show you how to use a bow. Mandatory for centaurs." A somewhat portable pot from ar'Elya's knapsack was set up on the campfire alongside the coffee pot, and 'Raf got out his pipes and started playing quietly as the sky darkened. Kardia listened while she spun thread onto her bronze supported spindle. The smell of rabbit stewing in the pot with fresh vegetables was almost unbearable, and Clyde gave Kardia one of his apples. "I gots ta eat stuff all da time now, I guess dat bein' part horse makes me hungry as a horse too." He fidgeted. Kardia looked up from her loose kneeling posture as Clyde figured out how to get down into a sort of sitting position, his horse-half lying on the ground while his human torso was sitting up. He swatted at a bug, then 'Raf set up a yellow-oil torch with a sweet-citrus smell and the mosquitos abandoned them in droves. "Yes, that makes sense." Kardia returned the spindle and thread into her work bag and replaced it in her nearby pack; the light was getting too bad to use, even with the low-light setting of her eyes. She took a bite out of her apple, and after chewing it asked, "How did it feel, Clyde?" "What?" "Being changed, into a centaur." She settled, crosslegged, to listen. "Oh." He blushed. "It was really hot, sweaty-hot, from all da folks in da square, an' no breeze or nuthin'. I remember we was dancin, me and dese two fox babes dat came wit' us to da lighthouse. We all got naked, 'cause it was so hot, an' da fox babes was teasin' me about, uh, bein' so big, guy-wise, an' bein' so young, an' dey dragged me over ta where Raffi was playin' da pipes." He turned to look into the fire, his Low Town accent getting a little thicker. "Well, dey whispered somethin' in his ears, an' he din't stop playin' but den he changed da music, an' Karl was makin' dis gallopin' sorta drumsong. So Raffi gives me a drink a da wine outa his wineskin, an' tells me dat I can be a centaur, if I wants. An' I likes horses, an' da fox babes is teasin' me wit' dere tails, an I says yes. So den Raffi gives me dis big long tongue kiss, an' da fox babes is both lickin' in my ears, an' den I uh, gets all bothered, an' I wuz so drunk dat I, uh, kinda pass out, sorta. Den I comes to, an' Raffi is givin' me another drink a da wine, an' da fox babes is sittin' on my back, only dey's on my horse-back. An' I feels kinda like I was made outa fire, really light an' hot, an' da fox babes dat was bigger den me, dey is both littler, an' I goes out in da crowd an' dey, uh, dances wit' me an' wit' da fox babes on my back. An den you an' da vampire guy comes in an' turns Raffi back inta 'Raf, an' da really wild stuff happens wit' da rest a da magicians. So den in da early mornin' after da band is done playin', we helps dem move dere stuff ta da lighthouse." "Are you happy like this?" She smiled, seeing the places where the young stal had made his story more polite than she suspected it really had been. "Would you want to change back to human?" "He said he'd fix me back if I wann'ed but it din't sound good ta me. Before I was just a Low Town kid, sellin' papers, now I be hangin' wit' a'venturers an' helpin' da band, an' Ol' Man Heartwell sez I gets ta do field work like Jake an' 'Raf is teachin' me ta write news stories." "You could still do that as a human." "Yeah, but da fox babes likes me bein' half-horse. 'Sides, I like it, it's fun bein' stronger den da guy dat runs da press at da Examiner, an bein' able ta run fast, it's great." He got a wistful faraway expression. "Dey's fine babes, an' I like dem a lot, but dey just wants me as a stud, not as a friend, an' dat's not good enuf. I need ta find other centaurs." Kardia nodded. "I like being able to run," she said, changing the subject to something where she felt a little more secure. "Yeah, I see'd you gots da gold foot. Is dat real gold?" "I think so, 'Raelf made it with gold." She rubbed the join where the skin above her ankle blended with the gold of the foot, trying to feel the slight difference in sensation. After today's walk, there was none. It even felt warm like her skin. "Wow. Ain't you afraid dat some thief'll try ta take it?" "I wear shoes and socks mostly, and it doesn't show. I don't know what would happen if someone tried to steal it, really. The gold is just a very thin layer over the top of the foot." "Y'oughta be careful anyway. Parts a da Low City is pretty harsh." "Thanks, Clyde. I'll be careful." "Howcome you got dat foot anyway?" "Oh, I was captured, by slavers I think, a while back. They cut off the front part of my foot so I couldn't get away." "Nasty. Was dey Rameshanders?" "I don't think so. They were just locals, from around the same place where I found refuge, eventually. Anyway, when I came to Generica, one of the people I met was 'Raelf, and he offered to replace my foot in trade for me breaking a curse for him." "Oh, you's a magician?" Clyde looked suddenly more respectful, and Kardia suppressed a giggle as she nibbled the last of the apple around the core. "Not really. I weave. If I do it right, the weavings make magic go away. So I'm really kind of an UnMagician." Clyde grinned at the idea. "Dat sounds cool. Hey, is dat why you been askin' me if I really wanna be a 'taur? Cause I don' want dat you make me turn back." Kardia looked at him with the sight that saw magic. There was some faint tracery, like all living things had, and a faint trace that seemed like 'Raf, but no trace of anything resembling a human aura, except for the young stal's human torso, which was different in many details. If she hadn't known he wasn't always a centaur, she wouldn't have been able to tell. "You're a centaur for good and proper, Clyde. I think that if you wanted to change into something else, it would be fairly hard to do." She tossed the very thin apple core into the fire. Clyde nodded happily. "Good. Hey, you still hungry?" He looked around, seeing the campfire and the food cooking, but no sign of the centaurlion or the red-haired woman. The big white wolf was lying beside the fire gazing out into the field, his black ears tipping up to catch the sounds of early night. "Where's 'Raf an' da lady wizard?" "I don't know," Kardia replied. "They were here a moment ago." She rose fluidly, and went over to the campfire. The wolf had devoured most of the rabbit bones and excess. The pot contained what looked like a fairly good stew, bubbling gently. There were four large tubers lying in the embers, and the water in the steaming coffepot was hot. A pair of cups had been set by the stones, with a dark powder in the bottoms. It smelled familiar to Kardia - aka miso. She poured hot water from the coffeepot into each cup. A roll of tinfoil revealed two large-sized chunks of a french bread stick. She saw two more on the other side of the fire, so she handed one of the bread sticks and a cup of miso to Clyde. "Drink this, it's a kind of soup." "Sure." Clyde's nose wrinkled, "Gee, smells kinda like fish." "I think dried fish are one of the ingredients." "Not bad, I guess." He chewed thoughtfully on the bread. A roar came from the distance, and birds startled. Kardia strained to hear what it was. The wolf, though, just sat there, grinning his lupine grin. "You will let us know if that's going to come eat us," she said to the wolf. He thumped his tail twice and resumed listening. After about ten minutes, 'Raf and ar'Elya returned to camp, her riding on his back. "Smells like the food's ready," she said, and slid down. "Good, you found the first courses. If you feel like you're getting too hungry, let us know, we have a tendency not to eat when we get doing something." "Must be a useful trait," Kardia observed. 'Raf just grinned and stroked ar'Elya's hair. The next morning 'Raf had them up and moving almost before the air was warm. Kardia's legs ached, but not as much as she thought they would, and the crease on her side over the cracked rib was almost completely healed. "Good," the Reverend Sister said as she examined the injury, "It's very close to healed. I'm quite pleased. Now listen, Kardia." The weaver looked in her eyes, but the reflections were quiet today. "You've learned to focus your ki, your spirit. Remember to keep it feeding life into that area. Your mechanisms can interfere with the course of normal healing, but if you remember to do your ki focus, it will overcome that interference without causing your body to reject the machinery. And remember, discipline the body or it rules you. Rule the body, and it will do almost anything for you." "Thank you," Kardia said, as the stern countenance gave way to the more open smile of the red-haired hiker. "Isn't she awful," ar'Elya said. "I don't know why being her makes me act so stodgy and sour." "She's just repressed," 'Raf said, grinning. They crossed a plains, fording several streams. Finally, at the end of the day, the tracks were plain enough that the magical scan wasn't required to see their traces. And then Sheryl poked her nose out of the waist-high grass and snorted a hello at them. MagicHutchHeader Date: Wednesday, 14 Jul 1993 19:09:47 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93195.190947344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] A Gift from Felria [ADMIN: Thanks heavily to Stephen Hutchison for his contribution to this and "Rock in Generica". BTW, Tesla's "Changes" comes off the album _Mechanical Resonance_ (an album which I would recommend, though I know tastes vary), and since such things aren't put inside the cover, any wording, grammatical, instrumental, emotional or environmental {:-)!} errors that might have appeared concerning it were my fault... Let's see, anything else? Oh, yeah... timelines. This obviously happens after [BBD] Weapons Exchange (:-)!, since I posted it beforehand), after in fact any BBD involvement Lancos has, and as things begin to settle down after the big fight with Mar...] The band set out along Dragons' Way, heading towards the docks. After a few minutes, the twins moved to the front. Dirk cleared his throat. "Uh, we'll meet you there. We need to stop by and pick up some stuff we left with the 'rents, see how our little sisters' doin, all that good stuff." He grabbed Dirk's arm, and the two sped off into the night, "Beat ya!" "No fair holdin' me back!" "Nya!" Karl frowned. "Anna, don't their folks live _north_ of Dragon's Way?" "Yes, I think so. So why're they going south?" "Remember that pair of women from yesterday, the diFrizci women? They live in that direction. Nothin' but sex on those boys' minds." "As if it's not on yours," Anna teased. She grabbed Karl's closest horn with the palm of her hand, and then rubbed it with her own. "Only constantly -- it's one of the better parts of being a satyr, m'love. But at least I have other interests." 'Raf smiled and nodded; Karl _had_ seemed the quickest to adjust, the most willing to try everyday activities. "Speaking of which, sometime tomorrow or the next day, when my brother gets back with Kardia, we need to have another martial arts practice. You too, Anna, you especially." "You're teaching martial arts now too?" Lancos inquired. "I don't know whether to ask where you find the time, even with 'only' four of you, or ask if I could join in on the occasional practice." "Hmm. I thought you were busy with another one of those quest things." "Uh, that's basically over, we hope. There's still some things that may need to be done, but they can and perhaps should wait a day or so." "Cool. So, you got any particular style? Want to learn fresh, or just polish up the stuff you already know?" "I know a bit, from various styles. Enough to use properly, at least; to get me by, so to speak. Not as much as you do though, I'd bet." "Hm. Dunno about that, dude, I know a few styles, but until we test you, there's no way to rank us..." "Actually," Karl interrupted. "I was talking about music. Maybe we could talk some shop." "Why suddenly all business?" Anna asked. "You used to think I had no future. I still think we were pretty promising, but I figure we need to give professionalism a try," Karl paused for a half-beat, and then smiled wide and sarcastically, "At least until you find something more, ah, profittable." Anna glared at him and gave him a stiff-armed shove, and Karl went into a prolonged, deliberate pratfall, then bounced to his hooves with a look of mortal injury. Anna grinned, Karl grinned back, and the two hugged expansively and exchanged a theatrical kiss. Lancos was tempted to clap politely at the small play, as he had for such things in his youth. He could tell from the way these two moved together that their relationship had gotten far beyond the merely mercenary. "Sorry about the melodrama," Anna laughed, smiling at Lancos. "Don't worry about it -- I rather enjoyed it." Lancos replied. "Though if you like, we could pretend we never left the previous topic of music..." They continued their walk towards the Lighthouse, each exchanging bits and pieces of what they knew about music, and in general getting to know one other a little deeper. Part way there, they were joined by Dirk and Dack, each carrying a giggling woman over their shoulders. 'Raf growled at them to stop goofing off and push the cart, which they did, while the women rode on top. Lancos paused for a second as they reached the beginning of the twistbacks on the path to the Lighthouse, half-expecting the 'kan to again be worried about his chances of maneuvering the path in darkness. But when 'Raf did not also stop, the warrior pretended to adjust his belt a bit, as if that had been the reason he had stopped all along. Perhaps it was the full moon that illuminated this night, where no moon had before, or perhaps 'Raf was counting on Lancos' ranger skill of knowing where he was going, but in a confidence-giving yet almost disappointing way, he would not receive the glasses tonight. 'Raf raced up to the front door and opened it. Keeping the lead, he poked his head through the doorway and cried, "Hey Looooo-ceeee, I'm home!". After no reply came, he added, "Hmm, wonder what's goin' on? Raye knew when we were expected home. Oh, well, I'll pop off and talk to her later. While Lancos and I take care of some private matters, the rest of you should recover a bit in case I need you for anything tomorrow." Karl raised one eyebrow, and Anna looked disappointed, but she blew a kiss to Lancos as the bend went down the hallway to their room. When Lancos felt they were out of earshot, he asked "Private business?" "Hey, they wanted to seduce you tonight, so I wanted to give you an out if you want it. Besides, you still owe me an explanation of what that was you did back in town." "Ok. We need to go to that chamber ar'Elya had Krupp go into." "If you say so," 'Raf said, a bit of puzzlement evident in his voice. He tapped the door of the game room. <> "Why do you need this place?" "Well, I need its ability to force out memories." "Uh, nothing's _forced_, dude, it works on..." "Just humor me," Lancos interrupted. "Set it up." "So tell me what we're looking for, then..." "A gift from Felria." the warrior replied, rather softly. The door opened on plain room with two chairs and a small footstool. One of the chairs had an open back, and 'Raf sat in that one, his lion's tail coming out the opening. Lancos sat gingerly in the other, while Bast curled up on the footstool. The wall they faced began to glow faintly, swirling gray with hints of color. The warrior watched for a minute, then the colors became more intense. "Cool." 'Raf remarked. "Just relax, look at the wall, let it follow your lead, open up your mind for the images..." There was a pause, then a scene coalesced. Lancos lay on a bed, looking to be asleep. Above him, sitting up, was Felria. A soft blanket provided the only covering from their nakedness. The view was from a third person's perspective. "Dreamwalking, cool," 'Raf observed. The image flickered and continued. Felria smiled, and then spoke in a soft, sweet voice. "I do hope you'll forgive my intrusion, my husband-to-be, but this is a special occasion. For on the second night of our lovemaking since the announcement of our marriage, I have news of our first." She paused, and looked down at Lancos, as if she would find the courage to say what was needed in him. "I have looked into the future, and seen that I am with your child -- and probably will be again, over time. I shall tell you properly after our marriage... I do not wish to worry you further about me or what people might think, but at the same time, I felt I should tell you as soon as possible. But in the long run, what difference could a week or two make? "I was brought up to consider a child from a loving husband a gift, my family begin oft barren in that respect. And I wish to return that gift in a way that perhaps only I can. I know you're still a bit wary of magics, of what they might do to you, so what better gift can I give you than protection from some of them? The scroll I have prepared will allow you to keep better control over your mind, adding to the natural resistance you have. It's ironic in a way that I do this, since in future, I will not be able to entrance you like I did tonight, in order to perform this. You will not remember this, but that is for the best, for I know you'd never really approve of my doing this, feelin it is nothing you want or deserve." She stopped suddenly, seemingly running out of words. After a few moments, she picked up the scroll, and read from it. The words were muted -- apparently incomprehensible --, and so were most of the gestures, besides a final gentle touching of Lancos' head. Felria then laid back down to bed, and the image shut off. 'Raf blinked. Too bad Lancos couldn't remember magic well; the spell looked interesting. Oh well. Lancos spoke. "Now suppose that at some time early during the DragonQuest, you had given me a larger mental defesne without me knowing it. That's a pretty safe thing to say, since I doubt you'd really do anything like that." 'Raf nodded. He was going to get some unnecessary explanation, but the rnager had a point he wanted to make, so he waited patiently. "That would protect me from some things, like perhaps magical seduction such as Alita attempted. And it would allow me to change even the deepest parts of my mind, although not easily or perhaps painlessly. But it wouldn't be a total control, something that someone like you or Kadrys couldn't break through. Although it would be much more comfortable for me to be willing." "Not to mention the medallion." 'Raf commented. "I don't know about that." Lancos countered. "Something like that might be my best chance of fighting it. But only up until when I hit my head on the Inn. I was unconscious, and it brought me back. The price was that it then had some control over my actions, deeper than even I realized until it was too late." "But anyway," he continued, "Say that after the experience in Ak'Irneg, I could remember everything that was ever unnaturally blocked from me, including what I wasn't supposed to, like your hypothetical spell. That's also all right to say, since it really happened. I'd sudeenly know I had that ability, but it would be in my best interest not to directly say anything, for fear that I might cause it to go away." 'Raf felt mixed emotions about Lancos' words. The first was sympathy, that the ranger hand't known that he'd lost a child along with Felria, until after Ak'Irneg. The second was mild annoyance that Lancos had formed such such a strange notion: that telling about his unblocked memory would make the magic linked with it go away. But then, superstition was a fairly common failing for people who didn't truly understand magic. "Dude, you may want to crash for a whil, or you could go down to the band's room, if you want to take them up on their offer. I'll wake you in time to talk to Little Rat in the morning." "All right." Lancos said around a yawn. "I'd better take my own room though; I'm probably too worn out tonight for what they had in mind." The warrior picked up Bast and tenderly petted her. The cat issued a louder, higher toned purr than what Lancos had heard before, and swung her tail into the warrior's nose out of playfulness. "That reminds me -- I need to thank you for restoring Bast. Assuming of course, that she hasn't already better than I could, you being a catman and all." Lancos grinned wide, in appreciation, and at his attempt at humor. "No problemo. It was her desire, after all. I'll show you to your room." They went down the hall a bit, and 'Raf stopped at the first unmarked door. The mage pulled out a small rectangular sheet of paper, and stuck it into the door. He then produced a rainbow-colored pen, and wrote "Lancos Erredan" on the paper in a red, flowing script. "There. That'll help the room attune to you." 'Raf said in way of explanation, ushering in the warrior. Lancos' first impression was shock: the room around him resembled nothing as much as a scene from the forest he had grown up around. For a second, he had to remind himself that he was still indoors. "You like?" The voice caught Lancos off guard, and he turned toward it quickly, not having noticed anyway in the room. That was explained when a figure moved away from the wall, its clothing and face changing from that which would perfectly match the setting. It stood fully one-third his size, with elvish ears, brown hair, bright blue eyes, and a bright gold wool garment. Lancos smiled, recognizing the species. 'Leave it to 'Raelf to have a Brownie in his house.' he thought to himself. The race was known to him as being generally helpful as long as your intentions were good, but it took quite the special relationship to see one indoors. "Shall I show you around?" the creature asked, scratching under Bast's chin. The cat had seemingly already become friends with the man, even though they had just met. "If you would be so kind." Lancos said with a small bow. He knew from his experience in the traveling caravan that Brownies could make perfect guides, as long as you remained cordial to them. "Very well then. I shall start out with the closet." He led the warrior to the right side of the room, to a large tree in the middle of that wall. Even from up close, the wood looked rounded where it should really be flat, but Lancos didn't bother to try to dissaude the image. The brownie put his hand upon a knothole in the center of the tree, and suddenly two small wooden doors popped out, appearing to be an extension of the tree. "Cute." Lancos remarked as he looked inside. Hung up on a metal rod, held by smaller, thinner pieces of metal curved on one end, stood an array of clothing. The warrior recognized a few of the articles from when Valgar had gone through 'Raelf's directory of clothing, but also saw several things for the first time. Lancos was rather impressed by the outlay, and began to handle a few of the garments. "One thing you need to know about these clothes is that they're magical, and most of them won't last beyond this room. Of course, if you find something you really like, arrangements can be easily made for you to keep it." The brownie quipped, sparing the warrior from technological explanations that Lancos couldn't be expected to understand. Lancos stopped handling the clothes, and closed the door. He decided to wait until morning before pondering over whether to change his style. "Over here" the brownie continued, as soon as Lancos' attention was on him again, "is a place where you can choose musical selections." Lancos followed him to a small clearing, set off by a rock smooth enough to sit upon, and a large tree stump, its hole full of what looked to him to be small, rectangular boxes. "What's this?" he asked, picking up one of the CDs. "Um, it's a place where the music and words are stored, like what a magician would use to hold a spell or scroll. You put it into this special machine" he pointed to the player, "and it'll reproduce it, virtually as if the band was here with you. Like so." he added the last after placing one of the small discs into the player, and pressing a button obviously marked "Play". Lancos raised an eyebrow at all of this, especially the music selection. He wasn't sure he understood all of it, or that he wanted to try at this particular moment, but he was picking it up quickly enough to handle things competently, at least. The music was another story -- it was something from his home realm, something he hadn't expected to hear in Generica, and perhaps never again. "I thought you'd like that." the brownie grinned at Lancos' look. "I'll leave that running, and we shall move along to what you may be most interested in, the bed." He directed Lancos to what resembling a hill, small in height but around eight feet in length. A woolen mattress lay over it, and thick blankets and pillows surrounded the edges. Lancos slowly removed his tunic and armor, leaving only some padding to seperate him from the woolen cloth. He lied down, and surprisingly found that the area seemed to adjust to him, rather than he having to adjust to it. "Don't worry about anything" the brownie added. "Servants will take care of everything, from your clothes and armor, and your comfort, to the music if needed.". With that, the lighting around the room dimmed a bit, and the brownie disappeared. [ADMIN: Minor spoilers below -- leave now or forever hold your peace :-)!] Lancos laid down for a bit, his mind again preventing him from sleeping temporarily, thinking about the day. He first felt some frustration, that Gutt Man was loose on the streets again, and carrying around his old weapon. Letting something like that happened verged on the dishonorable, and pledged to himself that he and the child-killer had not seen each other for the last time. Next was some peace of mind. He'd refused BBD's "gift" of letting them go, and wasn't that what he had been trying to prove himself all this time -- that he wouldn't. 'Raf had said Kadrys had forgiven him for the betrayal at Ak'Irneg, and he did not doubt that the vampire _had_. But only until his loyalties -- and they were a very important thing to him, a source of pride -- had proven stable had he begun to forgive himself. He still felt he owed Kadrys personally, but at least the guilt was now something that did not have to be kept at the forefront. Next was happiness. BBD and Velric were finished, and that could only mean good news for Generica. He had helped 'Raelf out in his private war, and Rhythm Song in the party, and that could only help restore some of the cheerfulness he'd held before the medallion had controlled him. But most of all, he felt... tired .... Aided by his good mood, sleep overcame him. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu AKA Lancos Erredan SAQ: "Any heavily advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Bulletin Board Date: 16 Jul 1993 04:39:55 GMT Message-ID: <225ber$rqv@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: Bulletin, board, admin -=- Dragon's Inn Bulletin Board -=- week ending 16-July-93 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NEW THIS WEEK: I got engaged. :) (yes, I'm gloating) (this won't be a 'post' as such, so its only here once) -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OTHER ACTIVE POSTS: Posted by: Imports, Exports, and Arms (Jeremy Nelson, gujn@uniwa.edu.au) Content: WE apologize for any time distortions in the local area, however, due to testing of a device (Henceforward known as 'The Thing'), the local timestream has become dislocated. There is no danger, however some people may undergo slight disorientation. Some people may apparently find themselves in multiple locations at one time. We assure customers that this is not dangerous, and all time lines are in fact continuous, and will straighten themselves out in time. We recommend leaving early for any important appointments. Normal service will be restored tomorrow, yesterday, in three weeks' time, and in three hundred and thirty years. All complaints should be forwarded to: Imports, Exports, and Arms. We thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Moriarty (Aaron Humphrey, aaron@space.ualberta.ca) Content: |-------------------------------| | Moriarty Investigations, Inc. | | | | Magic and muscle at your | | service! No problem too large | | or small! Reasonable rates! | | | | 15A-Gamma Cor Caroli Lane | | Just off the Arcade of | | Unforgotten Heroes! | |-------------------------------| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Trawm (The Dreamer, asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Content: Attention all Real Men: If you is reading this then you is in the rong bar. Come to the Spitting Cobra were you can have a good time at a good prise. FITING ENKOURAGED. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Malthus Dela Noeuze (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Content: **************************************** ** Perfumerie Grand Veneur ** ** Is Seeking a Person To ** ** Find and Bring Back a Great ** ** Blooddrinker or Souleater ** ** For Perfumeric Substances ** ** All Contacts Considered ** ** ** ** Master Perfumerist Malthus ** ** Dela Noeuze ** **************************************** ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by : Faraway Investigations (albert@bcm.tmc.edu) Content: Grand Re-Opening: Faraway Investigations. 324A Blue Moon Ave. (one block west of Ardrey's) "No case is too big for Faraway." Rates Negotiable. =========================================================================== SPECIAL STATUS: Posted by: Zenith (Mike Bavister, mrhyde@netcom.com Content: ANNOUNCING THE A.P.D-I ARCHIVES I have been carefully recording all that has transpired here at the Inn and in Generica. I estimate that my archives are missing less than 1 in 100. The archives contain over 4600 chapters (articles) in 20 huge volumes (MB). Currently the archives are only indexed by Subject (Subject line), but my trusty scribes are hard at work attempting to compile a keyword-index by name, place, and "thread". Alas, this task may take a while. There are two methods by which you, the citizens of Generica, can access the archives (and their indexes). Via the Post-Office or by Magic. Via Mail: Send mail to the address below, with your request in the body of the message. I will then search the index(es) for you, and either mail you the matching "chapters" or a list of matches (if there are too many "hits"). Until the keyword index is compiled, I will be very reluctant to search the actual archives for your requests. TO: mrhyde@netcom.com. EXAMPLE: Dear Zenith, Please search your archives for all occurance of "Lancos" or "Zebron". Thanks. Via Magic: I have set aside a portion of my personal library for the Indexes and other materials of interest. If you know the powerful "FTP" spell, you can access the indexes directly. The arcane formula is listed below. This archive is "read-only", you may retrieve anything you like from it, but you can't place anything there. If there is something you'd like placed there for the benefit of all Generican citizens, let me know via mail. Do not forget to use "binary mode" for all not in ".txt" format. The FTP library currently contains: Subject indexes (no.1-no.3999) The Directory of Generica (latest edition) JourneyGarb flyer/catalog APDI FAQs (full and mini) And coming soon: The DragonQuest Saga *note* All ".zip" files are compressed using the latest state-of-the-art compression magic. Older uncompression magic may not work (use "zip19" or "pkzip2.04"). If you have any difficulty with either the transfer of files or decompression, please let me know. ftp netcom.com(192.100.81.100) login: anonymous password: (your e-mail address) cd /pub/mrhyde/APDI Cheers and happy reading ____ / __ __ o _|_ | / |__| | | | | |__ /___ |__ | | | |_/ | | Head Librarian of the Great Library of Generica -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- REMOVED THIS WEEK : I got engaged _________________________________________________________________________ ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [KAN] ('Raelf, ar'Elya, Kadrys) Fragonard's "The Swing" Message-ID: References: Date: Fri, 16 Jul 1993 08:12:23 GMT [ADMIN] This takes place the evening following "Dues and Reparations", and therefore, the day before 'Raf and Kardia and ar'Elya take off on the Unicorn Hunt. Thanks to Andrea Evans for help with Kadrys. Thanks to Penny for making ar'Elya appropriately cruel and heartless. And for finding the poems. 'Raelf knelt on one knee in the garden, wearing an absolutely foolish looking green and yellow diamond harlequin unitard, and a really stupid blue floppy hat with a huge brim and a big fluffy purple feather. He was strumming a lute, rather badly, which was unusual because he knew how to play the thing. He was looking up at ar'Elya who was in a wooden-seated rope swing, tied into the branches of the olive tree, and she was attired nearly as foolishly as 'Raelf, though in a different period's attire. She was wearing a big hoop skirt with dozens of crinoline underslips, with a tight silk bodice laced uncomfortably around her body. Her hair was in corkscrew-curls topped with a large flat straw hat, and her eyes had an unusual green cast. She was muttering "fiddle-dee-dee" at the lute music. Kadrys was nonplussed. Kev grabbed his hand, and pulled him over to the door where Little Rat was also watching, disapproval writ large on her face. "Dey's been doin' da same thing all night. 'Raf had ta make da food an' he uses too much horseradich on da sammidges." In the garden, 'Raelf began to sing. A Rune upon a Lunar Tune Aroon. (For El'n) The Moon is a Madness, A Madness of mine. I made her of mustard And mulberry wine. *(twang)* I garbed her in silver And strawberry cheese And halved her in quarters. (Her quarters do please.) *(twang, strum)* I crowned her and gowned her In Love all ashine, So boot her and shoot her, This Madness of mine. *(T-poing)* ouch. He bowed flagrantly, and ar'Elya giggled and flipped a fan in front of her face coyly. Kadrys gaped, utterly and completely lost for words. His eyes looked as if they were about to bug right out of his face. He gasped for breath before he managed to croak a question to Kev: "What's all _THIS_ about?" "I dunno. 'Raf sez it's jus' a game but I don' see what th' rules would be." Kev scratched his head, and went inside, followed by a thoroughly disgusted Little Rat. Kadrys remained, watching, trying not to gape, openmouthed at the spectacle. He walked up to the edge of the cobble, and waited. 'Raelf bowed in his direction and then returned to his adoring, dopey-eyed plunking at the lute. After a few minutes he stood, straight-backed and in an exaggeratedly proper attitude. On a tree by a river a little tom-tit Sang "Willow, tit-willow, tit-willow!" And I said to him, "Dicky-bird, why do you sit, Singing `Willow, tit-willow, tit-willow'?" "Is it weakness of intellect, birdie?" I cried, "Or a rather tough worm in your little inside?" With a shake of his poor little head, he replied, "Oh, willow, tit-willow, tit-willow!" He slapped at his chest, as he sat on that bough, Singing "Willow, tit-willow, tit-willow!" And a cold perspiration bespangled his brow, Oh willow, tit-willow, tit-willow! He sobbed and he sighed, and a gurgle he gave, Then he plunged himself into the billowy wave, And an echo arose from the suicide's grave -- "Oh willow, tit-willow, tit-willow!" Now I feel just as sure as I'm sure that my name Isn't Willow, tit-willow, tit-willow, That 'twas blighted affection that made him exclaim, "Oh willow, tit-willow, tit-willow!" And if you remain callous and obdurate, I Shall perish as he did, and you will know why, Though I probably shall _not_ exclaim as I die, "Oh willow, tit-willow, tit-willow!" The white-clad belle on the swing dimpled charmingly, "Oh p'shaw, promises, promises." 'Raelf opened his eyes very wide, miming a stricken expression unbelievably, and struck his chest twice with the lute melodramatically, somehow not managing to break it. "I am wounded, aye, _Deeply_ wounded, I must aver, you have cut me to the quick." He fell to both knees, moping, feather draggled to the dust below. She swung higher, eyes shining, and a scornful giggle drifted behind her. "Oh, puh-lease," Kadrys laughed, the sound almost a deeper echo of ar'Elya's giggle. "Don't spurn the poor fellow, give him another chance, _do_!" She blinked at him over her fan, and snapped it shut suddenly. "Well, since you ask in such a gentlemanly fashion, I'll give him just one more chance." She batted her eyes coyly. 'Raelf suddenly did a complicated riff on the lute, making it sound like a mandolin. He bowed in a complicated Florentine courtesy and began singing, actually tuneful. My days are brighter than morning air Evergreen pine and autumn blue But all my days were twice as fair If I could share My days with you My nights are warmer than firecoals Incense and stars and smoke bamboo But nights were warm beyond compare If I could share My nights With you To dance in my dreams To shine when I need the sun With you To hold me when dreams are done And oh, my dearest love If you will take my love Then all my dreams are truly begun And time weaves ribbons of memory To sweeten life when youth is through But I would need no memories there If I could share My life With you. 'Raelf put down the lute, and ar'Elya laughed and shouted, "Catch!" and leaped into the air from the top of the arc of the swing. Somehow he caught her, and spun in a confusion of petticoats, giggles and kicking heels. He whirled her across the garden to where Kadrys was waiting, then grinned maniacally and began to chant again: JUST ABOVE BELOW A little bit beneath above is a little bit below Little known to none at all, tho' nary knew we know. Just before the bottom there's a tuppence of the top. A hair ahead of the get-to-go there stands the stick of stop. ***** So quarrel the moral or puzzle the fuzz The is of the will be's the wont of the was. Kadrys blinked, breathed "_What?_" "I go Pogo," ar'Elya drawled. Kadrys gave a grin, a sudden, bright expression, unselfconscious as a child. He burst into a brief, lilting song, seeming in the act to become a much younger self. "Oh I am a bounder A spring in my step When you use me to walk Then I lend you my pep, I jump over puddles I can all but fly I'm kin to a witch steed Now say, what am I?" He exchanged impish glances with ar'Elya, and doffed an imaginary hat in a gesture with enough flourishes to match 'Raelf's recent mood. "Oh, I know," 'Raelf said, brightly. "Albert Alligator!" "No, silly," ar'Elya said, whapping him with her fan. "He doesn't have the cigar, he can't be Albert Alligator." "Oh! Be a stick in the mud then. Hoppy-go-lucky me, and you get all mean whenever I get a spring in my step. I think I'll just play with my lute." He started to put her down, but she wouldn't let go his shoulders. She grabbed his chin between two fingers. "You come play with _my_ loot, fuzz-he-wuzz." "Be that way, then. Kadrys, have you ever known women to be such a burden?" 'Raelf winked. "With You" copyright 1972 Stephen Schwartz from the musical Pippin. "Titwillow" not copyrighted, from Gilbert and Sullivan, The Mikado "A Rune upon a Lunar Tune Aroon" and "Just Above Below" are copyright by the estate of Walt Kelly, all lyrics used without permission. I have no idea whether the doggerel Kadrys comes out with comes under any copyright other than Andrea's. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] Hello, I'm looking for... Message-ID: <1993Jul16.104408.12863@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> References: <1993Jul7.002828.17536@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> <1993Jul7.103155.22208@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> <1993Jul12.212306.10736@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Fri, 16 Jul 93 10:44:08 GMT "The Shaheran would like to see you in his private office." the messenger said as Palandun was getting ready to turn in. "Can this wait till mornin'?" Palandun asked, wondering if pajamas would make a particularly cutting figure at The Court. "No. He commands you to come immediately." "Oh, all right." Grabbing his lowvis cloak and throwing it over his Jammies, Palandun stalked after the liveried messenger, determined that if he was going to be dragged out of the prospect of a good nap, he could damn well look as goofy as he pleased. "You look distinctly goofy." The Shaheran remarked by way of breaking the ice. "If you just called me here to insult me, I'm going back to sleep." "You have been a great burden to us." the Shaheran abruptly canged the subject, getting down to business in a roundabout way. "If this is about how much I ate a dinner I'm sorry, but it *was* good food." "We have fed you, sheltered you," The Shaheran pushed on through Palandun's interruption, "guarded you and guided you. Now it is time to repay. We have decided to allow you to help us counter the Alasirian threat." Here Palandun found himself on thin ice, he left his sword in his room, so if the kid decided to have him summarily executed the was kinda screwed, but he also couldn't sign anything like *this* and expect to have it stick. "Um, thanks, I think. Um, I'm afraid that's gonna be a little difficult." The Shaheren held up his hand in a 'don't worry' gesture, "We will provide the ships for transport and contribute to your soldier's pay, never mind that." "That's not what I mean. Lissen, Shaheran," Here Palandun sat down and looked into the eyes of the kid ten years his junior, adopting the tone of a friendly teacher, "The bismanian citizens are the ones who decide on the laws there, not some ruler like on this continent, we got rid of him a thousand years ago, if he ever existed, which I doubt. That means that if I sign a treaty with you, I have to get the citizens back there to vote for it, or it's just a sheet of paper with both our signatures on it. And, to be perfectly honest, there ain't no Alasirian threat in Bismania. The only war we fought with any eastern power was with Ydoine, a hundred and eighty years ago." "Then why don't you quash your citizens, put them under your iron fist." "Because that's not my place, and that every fiber of Bismanian culture resitsts having any one person or group of people gain too much power." The Shaheran debated this new information for a while. Finally he had an idea: "Then a trade agreement, every trader between our two countries must be lisenced by me." "That's worse. That falls under 'misusing your station for personal gain' and stands as grounds for disenfrancisement. They'd recall me and send me back here, a stateless person and refugee criminal, penniless and destitue. As for you, you could make the declaration unilaterally, spare me the time and trouble of a trial, and only face an increase of smugglers as each Bismanian mercant promptly ignored the order, assuming they didn't stop trading with you altogether. Remember, we don't need the Silk Road." Palandun was reffering to the fact that Bismanian merchants could just as easily get goods directly from the orental realms as Rameshan could, probably much, much easier. "Then what can you do for me?" Palandun stood up, pitched a trio of gold coins in the Shaherans lap, "Here's for the room and board. The advice was pretty useless, so I won't pay you for that." Palandun headed for the door, but stopped as the Shaheran called to him. "If your man really is a slave trader, there's a good chance he might be part of the Amber Crescent. If he is, and you find out anything about their internal workings, telling us will be considered payment in full of your debt." "Coolness." Palandun said, then went to bed. The next morning found Palandun with two problems: 1) How to find the Amber Crescent, and 2) What to do when he got there. It was, oddly enough, the apparently incompetent Master of Spies who rescued our hero from his perdicament, first by producing a busboy who once worked for a prominent A.C. merchant (until he was beheaded) and gave him a contact place: the Khosh Pearl, a tavern in one of the seedier parts of town. After the busboy left, the two of them hammered out a cover story. A good cover story has three key ingredients: 1) It must be easily remembered. 2) It must be free from internal conflicts or conflicts with established facts. 3) All false statements must be nonverifiable. After a morning's work they hammered out a good one, A bismanian merchant, (THis would account for the accent and mode of dress, as well as the fact that Palandun could not behave like an integrated member of Rameshander culture) here to find Gunther Toodie to have him run a similar scam in Bismania, where the 'undesireables' had been piling up for longer than anyone cared to remember. Removing the parts of his dress that marked him as a citizen and changing his appearense slightly (largely by changing the hairstyle and altering his color-scheme) served as a partial disguise. Palandun entered the _Khosh Pearl_, looking rather anxious at being in such a seedy part of town, it was not an act, as his sword was back at the Court. He sat down and caught the bartender's (a little gnomish fellow with glasses) eye. "What can I get for you?" The Barkeep asked. "Well, actually, I'm not thirsty, I'm just looking for someone." "My name is Sirroch, not Mabell." The Gnome was refering to the goddes of Directories and Lists of Names. "Pleased to meet you Sirroch, I'm Arband Fana-esse," the name meant 'Out of Bondage Vieled-Name.' Palandun felt that if anybody actually managed to translate it from Quenya and spotted him, then it was a sign that the gods really didn't want him to do this, "I'm a businessman from the big island of Bismania, and I have a proposition for one of your businessmen." "We mostly sell wine here, I'm sure you can make your own." "I'll have some of that." Palandun said, flopping down three fat gold coins for the glass. Sirroch poured the wine while mantaining his composure. Palandun poured it on the floor. "Same again?" Sirroch asked. "There's hundreds of thousands more where those came from, for the right person. Let's not beat about the bush, word of Gunther Toodie has spread to Bismania. My...investors want him. You know where he is." "Another Bismanian is searching for him, wouldn't that lead him into the lion's den?" "That other Bismanian is here, and not likely to leave without finding reason, and even then he won't go back." Sirroch finally broke down. "I'll send word to him." He said. "Wrong. I'll go to him personally. My investors are very finicky about who they let in on the deal. The less you know, the less chance there is of the deal falling apart." "You can write a letter and send it by messenger." "And have it read before it leaves Pashar? No thanks. I go myself, and I bring my own guards. Where is he." "Alamatar, there's some catacombs beneath the city, from the dead empire of Ahmey. He's heading up our expidition down there. I would exercise care down there, not everything is dead. Bring some guards." "Thanks for the warning." That evening found Palandun in a ship for Orluccar, where he would pick up one of the mini-convoys that went to the Silk Road Terminus at Alamatar. MagicHutchHeader From: dnichols@engr.latech.edu (Dennis Nichols) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [A] ADMIN - Retraction of post Date: Fri, 16 Jul 1993 12:43:09 GMT Message-ID: Well not an entire post but at least part of it. IN [A] A brawl in the Inn there is a fight in the Inn (GASP!). OK here it is. The fight did not happen in the inn, it happened in the Spitting Cobra, A place not frequented by Traveler very much, but given his recent experiences, is forgiveable I suppose. Any way that is where he meets the barbarian, and after the fight they have some mead, and Traveler says" Why don't we go over to the Dragon's Inn, It's has a much nicer atmosphere." The barbarian agrees and they go over to the Inn without incident. Just after they reach the Inn and find a table is when The Jolly Roger and his friends come in. Well, I hope this clears that up. When Traveler related his story he had forgotten that he was in the Spitting Cobra, It wasn't till later that he discovered his mistake and told me the truth. But, it was to late for me, 'cause I had already posted the story. <;+) djn -- The Traveler MagicHutchHeader From: albert@chain.ssctr.bcm.tmc.edu (Rick Jones) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Krupp [GATM] Ashes, Ashes, All Fall Down Date: 16 Jul 1993 17:00:16 GMT Message-ID: <226mr0$b5l@gazette.bcm.tmc.edu> [What Has Gone Before: In his investigations of strange goings on in Low City, Krupp Faraway, ghostly halfing P.I., discovered a strange group of Low City children. Before they could murder one of their own, Krupp burst in, only to discover that they were somehow immune to his powers.] Okay, I had been in tighter situations before. Once, I was trapped in a blind alley with ten of Creft's ogre legbreakers. But, I had NEVER been surrounded by a bunch of murderous children who talked to an animate doll. "Hiya kids, my name's Krupp," I said. "So, we've gotten off on a bad foot. Is that any reason to ruin a beautiful friendship?" The kids weren't buying it. Not that I blame them. "So, you guys playing a game?" Their leader, the one with purple and green eyes stared at me. "You has seed Br'Nai, and you ain't one wit' her." The kids fanned out around me. I wasn't worried. At worst, I could fade through the floor, but that would leave Tar to the lions. The kid continued, "You is a grup, and we hates grups." He paused and sneered, "even if you is a little grup." That tore it. I gestured, and junk from all around the room started flying. Like levitating, it had taken some practice, but I was handling it okay, even if it did take a lot out of me. Some of the kids scattered, after getting a 'ject in the face. I tried to whack Green-eyes with a flying chair, but it missed. I brought it around again to hit the little creep, but he ducked. "Is that bestest?" laughed the kid. <> WHAT IS THE PRICE? echoed in the air. It was a sickeningly sweet voice, dipped in honey. It gave my case of the heebie jeebies a huge kick in the pants. Green-eyes nodded to the little girl Miche who, with an accuracy I'd only seen before in Trawm's place, threw her dagger. I reached out with my mind to grab it, and stop it, but something blocked me. The knife struck home, killing Tar. "NO," I shouted. THAT SHALL DO, the voice purred. The air grew thick and hazy around the kids. The junk I was animating dropped to the ground. I felt like I had been running all day. I collapsed to the floor. PERHAPS I SHALL TAKE THIS ONE AS WELL. WHAT DELICIOUS IRONY. Well, I wasn't having of that. Mustering what little concentration I had left, I dropped through the floor. I felt like I was trying to run with my feet wrapped in anvils. I couldn't concentrate. I coudln't slow my fall. I kept on going through the ground floor. Through the basement. Through the sewers beneath the building. I saw layers of rock and mud, as I tumbled through the earth beneath Generica. My last thoughts before I blacked out were wondering when I was going to stop. If ever. -- Rick Jones "Ho ho and ha ha", ey? I'll "ho ho and ha ha" you, albert@bcm.tmc.edu fat friar.... with my trusty QUARTERSTAFF! Actually, Systems Support Center it's a buck-and-a-quarter quarterstaff, but I'm not Voice: 713-798-7352 telling HIM that!) --Robin Hood Duck MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu (christopher motherway) Subject: [AU] Discovery of the quest Message-ID: <7yHs7B4w165w@cybernet.cse.fau.edu> Date: Fri, 16 Jul 1993 16:50:41 GMT ADMIN: This, chronologically, occurs the day after the Unicorn Hunt began. Since Lance and Blaze are not PART of it, they might as well... well, see for yourself... = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Blaze was sitting at a table by herself (lance had gone out to find another "job" for them), with Lance's mandolin. She was casually strumming a few simple tunes to occupy herself, though, unlike when Lance is strumming it, no images appeared in front of her. Serene saw the archmage and walked over to the table. She than said, "I didn't know YOU could play. I thought only Lance could." Blaze smiled, put the mandolin down, and said, "Lance taught me a few notes and bars here and there since we had met. I am more a master of magic than of music, though." She then sighed. Serene asked, "What's wrong? Bored?" Blaze said, "No, my friend, it is not only that." She then show the copy of the "Examiner" she had; the one about unicorns and the hunters. While Serene scanned the story, Blaze said, "This got me thinking of Sheryl. She is the only unicorn I know of. But this article says there were TWO spotted by those hunters. Before Andrea left, she said she needed time for a walk to 'adjust'. I wonder...could Andrea be that other unicorn?" All this time, the amulet around Blaze's neck glowed dimly. Serene said, "How could that be? It was only Sheryl that was changed, form what I heard 'Raelf and some other say." Blaze shrugged, saying, "I do not know, but, perhaps, it had something to do with Raykor, the one who changed Sheryl. Maybe Andrea was caught by Raykor, like I was caught by that strange presence in my wizard-sleep. Raykor COULD have tried the same curse on Andrea. Of course, this is all theory. For all I know, that other unicorn just might be that: a unicorn. Oh, Serene, I am just so worried over Andrea." Serene then said, "Wait a second. Here's news to cheer you up: 'Raelf, Kardia, and some others headed out yesterday to LOOK for Andrea and Sheryl." Blaze's face lit up (as did the amulet). "Really? When?" "Late afternoon. Don't know WHERE they went, but they WERE going after them." A few tears of joy appeared in Blaze's eyes. "Oh, thank heavens. Wait until Lance hears this!" = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = That night, Blaze told Lance about the search for the thief and her unicorn-sister. She also told him about the amulet, how it glowed whenever Andrea and Sheryl were even thought of. "Do you think," Lance said, "that this crystal could be a link to Andrea and Sheryl?" "Not really, beloved. It ALSO glows...when I think of you." Lance pondered a second. He never spent much time with the royal wizard in Wolverton, so magic was a bit out of his league. Yet curiosity about magic had always been a part of him. Finally, Lance said, "Well, at least there is one less thing to worry about. Hopefully, Andrea and Sheryl will be back soon. We will tie up these loose ends in her story when they do. In the mean time, we need to visit a villiage northeast of here, near an enchanted forest of some sort. The townsfolk said that goblins have been sneaking in to houses there, robbing them of gold and jewelry. Perhaps you had better leave the amulet here when we leave. Now, let's get to bed." Blaze nodded. No sense in worrying anymore; when 'Raelf and the others return, all the answers would be discovered. She WOULD bring the amulet, though, just in case a new secret about it is found on the way. The two kissed each other goodnight and Lance immediately went to sleep. Blaze pondered many things (the quest, the amulet, the unicorns, Raykor, Andrea's house) before slowly drifting into unconsciousness. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = ADMIN: I _think_ you can see where this is leading..... MagicHutchHeader From: albert@chain.ssctr.bcm.tmc.edu (Rick Jones) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Krupp [GATM] Down in the Underground Date: 17 Jul 1993 01:37:06 GMT Message-ID: <227l42$s0a@gazette.bcm.tmc.edu> Floating through this darkness All alone Love is gone in darkness Cold as a stone Searching through the shadows you have known I didn't really wake up. On the other hand, I didn't really pass out. I bobbed around on the edges of consciousness like a cork tossed into a river. Images floated in front of me in the darkness.... "Krupp, get up, you're going to be late for school." "Mister Faraway, please pay attention." "Geez, Krupp, we're gonna get caught." "Full house, dragons over pentacles. Pay up." "If you walk out that door, mister, you're not coming back." "Welcome to Generica. Ten silver, please." "YOU want to join the army? Gimmie a break. Try the thieves' guild." "You were damnfool enough to volunteer for this unit? What a moron!" "SSsss, look, a ssssmall one. Tasssty." "Never get out of the boat, man." "Whew, thought we were dead, lil' buddy." "For Extreme Valor Above and Beyond..." "War's over, pal. Whatcha gonna do?" "The Watch? Try the thieves guild." "There's the sign, Mister, 'Faraway Investigations' just like you asked." "I hear the Wasters are doing freelance for Creft." "Creft's not going to be giving anyone any problems now. I just took him..." "Are you aware of the fact that you are dead...?" "Rafe, are you going to show off again?" "Gentlemen, the Ale House is proud to present.... Melina, the Enchantress." Krupp. "You're wrong, shorty. Dead >giggle< Dead wrong." Yo. Krupp. "Krupp, get up, you're going to be late for school." Not this one again. Feetal's giz. "Mister Faraway, please pay attention." KRUPP! Huh? Wuzzat? It's Lotus. Go 'way. Tryin' t' sleep. No. Wake the smeg up. Man, you've got no charge left at all. Shhhh. Hmm. >ZAP< YOW! 'ey, cut dat out I wanna- >ZAP< sleep. Huh, whas happin' Whatever it was up there grounded you. Huh? I don' You're psychic energy, and something upstairs whalloped the crap out of you. You've got no energy left. So. Lemme sleep. Iss dark outside. It's dark because we're a mile or so under Generica, ya dope. You'd be at the center of Nexus, 'cept you're bound to the city. Huh? Oh heck. >ZAP< Lotus? Whas happin' I'm charging you up, bleeding off some essence for you. Huh? You know, I have had better conversations. Wha? Look, if you don't get a charge, you're going to float around here until the end of Time. Don' wanna. But... >yawn< tired. What to do....what to do. Zzzz. NO! Wake up you little shit. Who's lil'? Okay, glad to have you back with the program. Zzzzz. Oh crap. >ZAP< Boss, you gotta wake up. Where the hell am I supposed to find a metaphysic energy source a mile and a half below the surface. Go 'way. Hell. That's it. Boss KRUPP. WAKE UP. >zik< Damn, low charge. Wha? Banish me. Huh? Banish me. Send me back where I'm from. Ab-smegging-jure me. Go t' Hell. That'll do. >YO' MORNINGSTAR, YOU HEARD THE MAN.< A wash of heat and amber light flashed in front of my eyes. I saw Lotus' figure flare, as a rip in space opened. A hot rush of despair and anguish washed through it. My stomach rolled, but I sucked it down. Lotus was straining at the portal, holding it open as long as he could. I started to reach out for him. "No Krupp. I gotta go. Say goodbye to the kid for me." Lotus let go of the edge of the portal, and it winked out. I felt like I had been bathing in bantha pudu, but I was conscious. I started the long walk back up to the surface. Damn, I was going to miss him. And this Br'Nai thing was going to pay. (Floating : (c) Lynch/Badalamenti, sung by Julie Cruise) -- Rick Jones "Ho ho and ha ha", ey? I'll "ho ho and ha ha" you, albert@bcm.tmc.edu fat friar.... with my trusty QUARTERSTAFF! Actually, Systems Support Center it's a buck-and-a-quarter quarterstaff, but I'm not Voice: 713-798-7352 telling HIM that!) --Robin Hood Duck MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [NERC] Date: 17 Jul 1993 16:18:15 GMT Message-ID: <2298o7$ljk@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> It is night in Low City, a particularly heavy night in which the orphans hide in their deepest corners, and the mothers put their children to sleep early, kissing them and assuring that nothing will come to get them. Then they bar the windows and sleep with one hand resting on a carving knife. They can _feel_ that something is outside. Searching. Waiting. A pale form walks the streets casually, as if there is no threat around the corner, crouching for the right moment. A blade is turned slightly in the shadows. The man wares a rich cloak and jingles slightly as he walks. The corner is only a few steps away. The blade turns again, considering. The man passes the corner and the blade withdraws. No fear. Too much risk. <> Nercrum calls to the streets. His servants had been slow in answering his requests. Something had to be done to get them to look harder. A blackness that could easily been mistaken for shadow seems to detach itself from a twisted house and hover over the pale man's shoulder as he walks. {..the storm.. ..hurt many..of.. } <> Most of his skeletons had been smashed beyond repair. All others of his had been washed away completely. Except his wraithes. Their power still was an unknown. The three he knew told him little when he listened. He only had patience enough to learn that they had control of every soul they converted. <> he calls. Dark mist rises out of a sewer drain and trails after the walking man. /Steve is one I can trust,/ Nercrum thinks. /So far he's done everything I asked./ {...yes... ...master...} <> The dark mist slows, and Nercrum turns towards it. /I've almost had enough of these things./ {...how?... } <> Nercrum almost yells. He gestures violently at the shadows in the street. <> {...no... ...how...you know... ...master...} <> Nercrum's eyes flash red then grey. The shadow pushes it's way between the man and the mist. {..we will look.. } The man's eyes flash red again, then return to their normal cold blue. <> The shadow and the mist watch as Nercrum walks away from the protection of Low City. {..you see..} the shadow asks. The mist considers for a moment. /The master is not sane. This state must not remain./ {...yes... ...the mas-... nercrum... ...is not strong...} {..soon.. ..he will fail..} Shawn grins in a way that only the mist named Steve can see. {..then i.. ..will have his soul..} {...yes... ...master...} MagicHutchHeader From: Daniel_Howard@camelot.apana.org.au (Daniel Howard) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Alone Message-ID: Date: 17 Jul 93 13:13:24 EST The traveller opened the door to the dragon's inn and peered inside. Strange, it was rather quiet for an Inn. He was sure there was someone about for the building was in good repair and the light was on. On looking inside, he could see the fire burning merrily in the fireplace. The wooden floor was neatly swept but heavily stained with years of alcoholic spillages. He stepped inside and brushed the snow from his heavy travel-stained cloak. Closing the door he removed his cloak and hung it on a nearby peg. He approached the bar looking around. There's nobody here. He called out for service thinking perhaps that someone was upstairs. No answer... "What a rotten pub" the stranger said to himself. He sat down at the bar for a while, scratched his beard, looked around, and then reached over. The man selected a fine bottle of wine and poured himself a drink. He then sat down in a chair near the fire to let his cold feet dry out. Upon finishing his drink the man went back to the bar, poured himself some more wine, and quickly gulped it down. He then scribbled a quick note and left if on the counter along with his empty glass. He went back to the door, put on his cloak, scratched his head, and left. The note on the counter said: " If anyone reads this note could they please write a reply. By the way, the wine's excellent but the service sucks... regards, Doctor Hammer. -- Via DLG Pro v0.995 Word Perfect 5.2... The Nightmare Continues. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Waste of Money Message-ID: Date: Sun, 18 Jul 1993 21:20:47 GMT Rook faded from visibility, then began the slow silent approach. The goal came into sight. There, sitting in his office. That arrogant unseelie elf. There was no way she'd sneak up on him, of course, unless he was really distracted. Which was why she was waiting for the early morning surge, when he was busy working his mind-control spells, keeping the bastards running the empire acting like they were honest. Now, for just one more thing... She waited -- Scorpion and Nolrimm were coming up the stair, so the desired distraction was almost complete. She had given the kids downstairs a big box of fireworks. They should be starting in any second now... >POW!< BLAMMITAPLOW! *RATATATATATATATATA* She moved. Each explosion brought her closer, each step nearer her objective. She held the long thin poinard in ready position; if she could see it through the wrap of the invisibility spell, she would see the gleam of the venom on the blade, the wet blue glint. She was in reach. She blinked. The venomed blade was on the table, Orim was standing on the other side of the desk. The elf had a smile on his golden face, one red brow arched in amusement. "Very fortunate indeed," Orim was continuing. "You could have hurt yourself very badly attacking me at that particular moment." "What did you do?" "Rook my dear, do please not make the mistake again, of thinking a simple spell of smoke and light is going to be hiding you from my vision. I saw your earth and smelled your fire. Not to mention the venom on that nasty sticker. Stasis was the politest of my prepared defenses." "All right, so it didn't work this time." "True, but it could have. With a little more research, a little more understanding of who and what I really am." "And you expected me to get this before I went after you?" "Oh, no. I expected you to trust your luck to get you through." Rook blushed. She had been getting a little lazy in that respect, though she wasn't too happy to have Orim point it out. "Gotcha there," Nolrimm laughed. "You been gettin' fat an' lazy, always did like to duck out when the work gets hard." Blink appeared and slugged him in the side, then vanished again. "Little shit, cut that out! Rook, you better stop him from doin' that or I'm gonna hurt him." "Just stop insulting her," Orim laughed, "And her knight in shining armor will stop defending her." Nolrimm glared but shut up. Scorpion just sat back in his chair, half-scowling. None of this was getting them anywhere, and it was getting worse. It was like Orim was losing his focus, his will to conquest, almost like he was getting bored with it. So maybe this time Orim would listen to the question. "Why are we doing this?" Rook nodded. "Yeah. Why _are_ we doing this? It doesn't have any bearing on keeping the Empire running. Nobody but us knows that you pull all the strings, and you pay us more than enough to keep quiet." Orim leaned on the wall, juggling daggers that appeared from nowhere. "You really want to know? I'm afraid they'll find me out." "Who?" Rook pressed the point. "The other four. My brothers in body if not in soul." "You're one mystery-loving bastard, you know that?" Nolrimm flapped his wings in and out, irritated; papers started flying across the room so he pulled them back in towards his body. "Why don't you just say what you mean?" "If I name the names, they might hear and come after me." Blink appeared beside Rook, holding a rose. She smiled and took it, leading him over to the empty couch where she started gently stroking it along his face and neck. Nolrimm looked disgusted. Scorpion got to his feet and walked over to where Orim was lounging. "Tell me again why that would be a bad thing." "Scorpion, my friend, do you remember when I fixed your body?" "That was 'Raelf." "SHH! Don't say that name out loud." Orim flinched, and made a warding gesture. The air in the room grew strangely still. "Yes, I remember it. He took me to some kind of a beach, sculpted up a body for me that wasn't made out of bug parts." "I told you, that was _me_ in there." Orim was frowning again. "The fellow who did the work is nothing like you. I know your story, the traveller who ate you, the battle with the big bad thing, you getting away, all that stuff you told us last month. There's no way to check that story out, and you know a lot about us, but that's not proof, really. But, even if I believe you, and I'm not going to say yes or no, it still makes no sense for us to keep trying to get at you." "Yes, I know. You're not very good at it, or maybe it's just that I know you too well. You're predictable, and I need the unpredictable." "Orim." Scorpion snatched one of the daggers from the pattern the Elf was juggling, and stuck it into the tabletop, "You _also_ told us that a conqueror cannot succeed without the pure will to power. Quoting that offworlder philosopher. You seem to be losing that will, and it's starting to show." Orim sucked on his lower lip pensively, letting the other daggers vanish back into their hiding places. "About that, you may be right. This has been fun, but we've pretty much reached the limit of what we can do with the Empire, short of pillaging it, and it's getting quite boring. Even with my control spells, things seem to be setting up for a long slow decline -- the locals just don't want to grasp the idea of democratic rule, but at least they've become used to the idea of public servants." He wandered across the room, mussing Nolrimm's hair as he passed. The big winged man snarled and shook it back into place. "The problem is this, my friends. We've got a government, but it's not really necessary or useful. Things work fine without it, and all the villages and provinces and vassal states haven't gained enough from the Empire that they'll want to keep it going by themselves. We've got an army which we could control if we wanted. Now, what do we want to do with them?" Nolrimm grinned, predatory. "I liked the earlier bit, pillaging, I think you called it?" "A little profit might not be a bad thing," Scorpion agreed. Rook nodded, eyes shining, and Blink just giggled, silently. "You might have a point there," Orim drawled, "but only _if_ we do it without wrecking things for the people who live here. You all remember the people, right?" "Oh, we remember," Rook said, "but it's not the people we want to be pillaging from. You've got this justice kick you like to go off on, unseelie boy. Remember the common folk, equal rights in the eyes of the gods (hah!) and nobody should be treated as if they were more worthy than anyone else. Well, how about we go after the folk that're working against that? We make our money, they take it on the nose, your precious `society of men of good will' profits by the removal of some of those men of ill will, and all of us get a break from trying to sneak up on you." "Let me sleep on it," the Elf replied. "Sleep? Since when?" Rook retorted. "You don't sleep. You're an elf, you do the meditation, just like me." Orim frowned. "Meditate then. I want you four to come up with some way that we can take apart this Empire, with a minimum of bloodshed. And I don't want to have to sit around and babysit it any longer." He vanished into thin air, again. --00-- "Well, I think it's a good idea." Nolrimm was laughing. "The first good idea he's had in a long time." Blink smiled and bowed. "But, putting a _religion_ in charge, it's just a bad idea. The priests already have too much power, that was the one thing Raoh did that I really liked." Scorpion was pacing, nervously. He reached for his mug of small-beer and accidentally snapped the handle. "Damn. Time to bleed off power again." He walked over to the stove, another one of those weird things Orim had decided they needed. A big metal drum, that put heat out into the room instead of letting it get away like the fireplaces did. The bald Waster touched the stove, and let his power leak slowly, pleasantly, into the metal. A minute later, the stove was glowing a faint cherry-red, and Scorpion felt much more relaxed. "No, I don't think we want a religion." Blink signed animatedly, too fast for Scorpion to follow. Rook laughed. "He says it would serve them right, the ones who are left from Raoh's administration. He says that if we pick the right god, the priests would be less corrupt than the ... wait, sign that again.. What is that sign, I don't know that one. Oh." She suppressed a snicker. "Than the dog-parrot-children-together-mistake that Raoh chose for his higher-ups." "Yeah, but Orim did say take apart the Empire," Nolrimm laughed. "Show me how that sign goes, Blink." The teleporter repeated the gesture, slowly. Nolrimm copied it until he got it right. "Still. I think it's an interesting idea," Rook said, "But it seems that it may take a while, and with priests involved, it's going to use up money that we have a personal interest in." "Maybe not," Scorpion said, "Depends on how it's done. Anyway. We have four ideas. First, we pick new rulers for the five major parts and set them up as governments. Second, Orim zaps the governors to be straight moral upright bastards, so they run things right and choose good folks for successors, and he makes the military just enforce the law instead of going off to conquer everything. Then everything falls apart in its own time. Third idea, we find someone who can take over his control spells and hand over the empire, if there's someone we can trust for it. Fourth idea, we find some bunch of priests and get them to take over running the show." "Fifth idea," came a voice from nowhere, "We find someone who can replace Raoh, but without his love of conquest." Orim faded into view, standing by the door. "But finding a competent, trustworthy king isn't a very easy thing to do. Let's work on this later, folks. I like the way that you went after solving the real problem before you went after how to make a profit from it. So I think I'm going to buy you all dinner, and tell you all a story." They changed to going-in-public attire, Scorpion dragging out a tight knit watchcap and a leather coat, Rook putting on her fancy red cloak. Nolrimm found his own cloak, and folded his wings into the pockets that concealed and protected them. "Scorp, is the spell on this cloak still working?" "Yeah. Ugly as sin, but no honking huge wings." "Ugly? Huh. Blond kitty fixed the nose." Scorpion just laughed and adjusted the straps on his coat. Blink disappeared and reappeared a minute later in something almost indistinguishable from the elven attire that Rook usually dressed him in. It showed his lean frame to advantage, and she gave him a quick glance and a nod of approval. Orim nodded. "Everyone ready? Blink, please focus us to the Gran Crouton in south Plampenny." Orim made a complex gesture that swept around to include the group, as Blink sent his teleporter's pre-vision off to the restaurant that the Elf had named. There was an empty spot on the boardwalk, away from the crowd and out of sight. Something pushed, and they were there, a sudden cold draft from the wind off the bay ruffling their clothing. They followed Orim to the entrance. "Reservation for five, DeStruente is the name." "Right this way, sir." The maitre d' led them to a table with a view of the setting sun in clouds, a magical barrier keeping the cold wind and ocean spray from coming in through the gilded screen that covered the unglazed windowframe. Violi and something like a harpsichord were being played in one corner of the restaurant. "Dinner this evening is the Lobster en Cravat, or we have a lovely compote of fresh sea-fruits and imported vegetable delicacies from the Southern Islands. Your waiter will be Enrie." The maitre d' left them alone with a fawning tallow-haired man in an improbable costume that was cut to resemble a crab or maybe a shrimp. Nolrimm started to say something, seeing this, but his jaw clamped shut of its own accord and he just sat quietly. The waiter took their wine and dinner orders, then scurried off. Nolrimm had been getting red in the face, and with a gasp, broke free of the compulsion. He took three deep breaths, held one, then finally exhaled. "Elf, I got good manners when I want to, you don't have to go clamping down on me." "Just a precaution. These folks react poorly to being laughed at. They burn the food, you don't want burned lobster." "Damnit. Just keep your damned spells out of my head." "I apologize then. Next time I'll take us to the Spitting Cobra and you can have grakhma." At this, Nolrimm subsided, growling to himself. Scorpion raised one eyebrow. "Orim, what's this story you were gonna tell?" "Very well. Since the wine is here. Excellent, Enrie. My compliments to the master of the cellars. Now where was I... Ah. I recently learned that Generica is still there. So, my other selves must have won their battle. This means they'll be coming for me any day now. They may have some objection to my continuing to exercise control over this little empire. So I'm going to be handing it over to you four. Rook, you and Scorpion both have the codes and activation patterns to handle the governors. Just use the scrolls for each of them, reinforce their honesty compulsions once a week and you'll be fine. Nolrimm, you have the codes and patterns for the military, and Blink, you know where all the remote rebroadcast units are located. So between the four of you, figure out how you want to handle things. You can keep the current state going for at least another five years, if you really want, maybe even longer, but you won't be able to place any new controls and the people running things will die off eventually." "So which plan do _you_ think we should use?" Scorpion asked, very quietly, his eyes narrowed. "I don't know. I'm just going to enjoy this lovely dinner, and listen to the music." Orim smiled, and poured another glass of wine. MagicHutchHeader From: peters@physics.ubc.ca (Dan Peters) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] A Pair of Watering Eyes Date: 19 Jul 1993 00:42:23 GMT Message-ID: <22cqlfINNion@iskut.ucs.ubc.ca> [ADMIN: This could be considered "Dream Wars, part 4", as it follows "Dreams of Freedom" quite naturally. The (short) first section is concurrent with "A Matter of Trust", and the second section is concurrent with "Welcome To My Parlor", which is where the ">"s come from. The rest is concurrent with "Weapons Exchange", as well as several yet-to-be-posted things. Got all that?] ------------------------------------------------------------ Myrnien awoke with BBD's voice in her mind. "You have five minutes. Then put on your armour and come to the Throne Room immediately." The connection was broken instantly. she thought with irritation. ------------------------------------------------------------ She arrived at the "Throne Room" just in time to witness BBD making fun of Velric, then took her place between the Gutt Man and Parsephulas, as she was instructed, just before their "visitors" entered the room. As was usual for her on such occasions, she looked carefully at her opponents and wondered what sort of people they were, and what friends or family would be left grieving after they were dead. These six were obviously unusual, since BBD and his other "recruits", and those disgusting daemons, were here as well. She concluded that they must be of what BBD called the "adventurer subtype". >"'Nien ha'lkin etweil-m'naal'ha." She received the biggest surprise of her life when one of the adventurers, a man whose face was covered by a wooden mask, said, in a language she had not heard for seven years, and in a voice almost as familiar to her as her own, "'Nien, I thought I'd never see you again." In the rush of emotions that hit her, foremost was the anguish of being caught in a position that was bound to be misinterpreted. She wanted to shout out, to tell Kaalzic that she was magically controlled, she didn't want to be part of this, she needed help -- but her mouth was frozen before she could say a word. >"What about Myrnien?" Kaalzic demanded. > >"Oh, she's happy here, with me. Isn't that right, my dear?" > >Myrnien paused for a second, and then slowly nodded her head. She eventually >found her voice, albeit with a cold, mechanical-sounding tone. "Yes, BBD is >correct, my brother." Her grief was compounded, of course, by having to lie. The frustration she felt was all too familiar; it had been much the same in all the other jobs she was forced to do for BBD. Myrnien had always hated being misunderstood. But at least on those other occasions the people involved had always been strangers. She had often thought that, one of these days, she might encounter someone she knew, and she didn't think she'd be able to handle it. And now her own brother had showed up... >"So, are you convinced?" > >The group stared at each other for a second, locked in thought. > >Nearly simultaneously, they shook their heads negatively. > >"Very well, then, have it your way." A mass of foes rushed at the group >without BBD's verbal encouragement, daemons and more human enemies charging >with a ravenous look in their eyes. ...and she was being forced to kill him. ------------------------------------------------------------ As Kaalzic faced his sister, his deep concern for her was largely replaced by fear for his own life. He had always been athletic, and dodging quickly-moving objects was a major factor in several games at which he had excelled in his younger days. But here the quickly-moving object in question was a sword, and failure to avoid it meant more than losing a scoring opportunity. And Myrnien was obviously very skilled. He knew that she had belonged to the Guard of the Gelten King, but he had never really thought about what that implied about her ability. Now, after ten seconds, he was very surprised that he was still alive. He managed to parry her sword with his own long-knife at one point, but it almost made him lose its grip on it. He supposed that the "correct" thing would be to attempt some attacks of his own, but even his impending death couldn't overcome his aversion to attacking his own sister. His concentration on keeping himself alive for another second made it impossible for him to say anything. It also caused him to fail to notice the tears, or the blood, on Myrnien's face. ------------------------------------------------------------ There are two minds, wandering the dreamlands together. This part of the dreamlands consists of seemingly endless forest. The moons are in the sky, and they are always full. The two minds are concerned about a friend, one who recently shared his thoughts with them. They had seen, behind his surface thoughts, fears which he had not intended to reveal. One of these was the familiar fear of attracting too much attention to himself. He seemed to be gradually getting over it. But there was another fear, that of being received badly by a long-lost loved one whom he soon expected to see. This fear had been surprisingly strong, so the two are now watching him from afar. Now they see that not only is his fear being realized, but he is also in mortal danger. A cry is raised, and the two are joined quickly by another six. As the eight are gathered in a circle, a decision is made almost instantly. It is not necessary to return to consciousness; the dreamlands are as good a place as any for what these eight have in mind. Unfortunately, out in the real world, it is broad daylight. So this will be more difficult than it would otherwise be.... ------------------------------------------------------------ Myrnien struggled against the controlling power of the bracelet harder than she ever had before, but as usual, it was useless. She knew that the only way she could avoid killing her brother was to decrease her own fighting effectiveness somehow. The tears in her eyes helped. It was harder to aim her sword-blows that way. But it wasn't enough. She thought of hitting herself with the sword, but the magic wouldn't let her. She bit her lip, hard. There, that helped. The pain, and the extra tears, threw off her fighting a bit. Her sword still hadn't hit Kaalzic -- she was surprised at how well he dodged it. But she knew he wouldn't be able to do so forever -- even now the magic was forcing her to blink in order to clear her eyes. She needed more pain. She bit her lip again. Again, it allowed her to keep her brother alive for several more seconds. , she thought. Soon she feinted high, and as Kaalzic raised his long-knife in response, she swept her sword around in a blow that would cut deeply into his side. Time seemed to slow down for Myrnien. This was it, this was the moment when she would, with her own hand, do a deed that would haunt her for the rest of her life. The move was a simple one, and it had already begun, and there was nothing she could do to save him. ------------------------------------------------------------ -- ^..^ / | Dan Peters | Too long for haiku: | /_/\_____/ | | Truly marvelous the proof | /\ /\ | peters@physics.ubc.ca | Of Fermat's Theorem. | / \ / \ | | (author unknown) | MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [Alone] [NTY, sorta] Ja'nis: in limbo. Message-ID: <1993Jul19.012511.6330@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> References: Date: Mon, 19 Jul 93 01:25:11 GMT Ja'nis, awake because of a dream (her brother turned into an artichoke and, well, it's a long story) padded her way down to the common room just in time to see one of the ubiquitous dark hooded figures stride out the door. She found the note he left, and showed it to Rowan, just coming out for the morning's trade. "Hmmm." Rowan said. "Serves him right for coming when there naturally ain't no people. He shoulda knocked on my door." "Wouldn't you have clobbered him?" Ja'nis asked. "Nah," The reply, "Just wanted to. Listener woulda played something in time." He nodded towards the minsterel, snoozing in his corner. "You know, you've been awful antsy after Palandun left, maybe you should go get him." "I can't leave the city, court order." "You don't have to, I doubt he's got far." Ja'nis repled by dashing out the door, taking a wild look around, then sprinting down the street. Finally she caught up with the c., h.s. and jogged to just in front of him. "Hi! My name's Ja'nis, I'm a recently-out-of-work mercenary." She held out her shaking hand. "My employer ran away and my friend is trying to catch him, which leaves me here with nothing to do, so, care to be shown the sights in our fair city of Generica?" MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan) Subject: [NTY] Delving through the hoar of fifteen centuries Message-ID: <1993Jul19.045202.17880@midway.uchicago.edu> Date: Mon, 19 Jul 1993 04:52:02 GMT [Taken from Gunther Toodie's personal diary, date Alhander 12, 3696 by the Rameshander reckoning] --If I ever thought that Pashar was bad, the heat in this place is tenfold more oppressive. By camel we traveled for three days from Dansusha'ar upon the ancient route favored by the local breed of porters and tradesmen. We stopped at one grubby oasis to replenish our supply of water. I had, of course, taken the precaution of storing several drums of water in my enchanted chest, but riding on the back of a camel is wearisome and the rest was welcome. Four days before our arrival at the camp outside Alamatar the celebrated Pillar of Nehayan was already visible like an accusing finger thrust into the sky. It is said that the old Empire of Ahmey grew so haughty] in its days of vigor that its champions challenged the very Gods themselves on the field of combat- and won some of these challenges. The Ahmeyans constructed splendid monuments as testament to their own greatness- most splendid among these was the astonishingly tall Pillar. I feel sure that the Gods intended it ass some kind of ironic joke that this Pillar should now mark nothing but the trackless desolate wastes which surround it. Perhaps it was here that the Bard of Staveland was moved to compose the Ballad of Ozymandias... The "camp", as Sirroch had described it, was nothing more than a conglomeration of tents surrounding a hole in the ground. Yet this meager operation inspired in me a thrill- an expectation of winning some vast treasure. The plan here was so much different than at Spec'Gems- here, the unwary miners and adventurers were optimistic about the prospects of personal gain- a far cry from that miserable chattel in the north who implemented every base device to escape their daily labours. Their naive optimism was fortunate, annd would hopefully prove to be a valuable instrument in coercing them to recklessly endanger themselves as would be necessary. Naturally, if their brave endeavours bore any fruit I would appropriate their prize and dispose of the hapless adventurer unlucky enough to be serendipitous. Not all of the crew was so expendable, ofFrom Pashar I was accompanied by a scholar of Ahmeyan glyphs and carvings- a personal friend of Sirroch by the name of Sadaget. I also had a personal bodyguard- an immense Parahander slave by the name of Crussen- with whom I shared the true nature of my mission and genuinely offered to compensate largely for his cooperation... Our first supply train from Orluccar had taken the liberty of wandering lost in the desert for two weeks before stumbling across the camp, so our initial delve was delayed. For his incompetence, I "invited" the captain of this supply train to be lantern-scout for the expedition. His cries kupon stumbling into a lair of large scorpions just inside the hole were a sourcee of much mirth and entertainment among the expedition... I write this from a large burial chamber almost a half-mile from the entrance hole. We have discovered breathtaking wonders in this ancient place- cunningly dug corridors, shrines to forgotten spirits, even portions of vast palaces and residences. If what we now explore are the mere catacombs of the former city above, it difficult to imagine how magnificent this city must have been beforee. Before... before what? This question has been nagging on my mind since I set foot on this territory- why did this grand and powerful empire collapse? On a more practical note, we have found little of tangible value to our sponsors back in Pashar. The fabled coffers of gold and gems for which we had all lusted are, for the time being, conspicuously absent. Nevertheless, Sadaget's studies of inscriptions and texts found here indicate that we may not be far off from the "motherlode" as it were. Present, however, are the infinite tiny glowing eyes which peer at us as we pass from countless small fissures and apertures. From time to time a member of our company vanishes, presumably carried off by the little things that lurk in the unlit spaces. Crussen calls the things "Khoboldi", a term fsome local species of goblin or holle- lurking creature, but their tactics are unlike any goblin known to me. Of late also some of the more superstitious members of the company have been reporting... other sounds, which they do not associate with the activity of the "Khoboldi". The more sophisticated among us dismiss theseese as fanciful elaborations on the chittering of the mundane gremlins which plague us like a nuisance. Soon we will resume our progress toward the southeast (the direction from which these sounds are most often reported) and we will seehether there is any merit to these craven protestations.... ...so far, surprisingly, we have encountered no trace of the expeditions preceding ours. Not a dropped piece of equipment, not a spot of blood, not even chalk markings indicating their way of passage. Eagle-eyed Crussen even observed that there is no soot from burnt torch-pitch on the ceilings of this place beyond that for wich we can held accountable. I idly speculated that the domesticcs and maidservants of long-dead Ahmeyan nobles yet tidy these chambers, fifteen hundred years after their last payday... -- Dennis Brennan djb6@midway.uchicago.edu MagicHutchHeader Date: Mon, 19 Jul 1993 08:25:46 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93200.082546ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Erik and Lex: The BIG Talk ADMIN: This post is a joint effort of Steve Hutchison and The Dreamer. It's written from Erik's point of view. It was dusk in Generica. The horizon cut the setting sun in half, throwing a canvas of pastels across the heavens. Cool evening winds blew in from the water toward the city, bringing the smell of salt air to its citizens. Erik inhaled deeply. This was his favorite time of day. Usually a scene such as this would lull his mind into a peaceful, meditative state, but not today. Beside him walked a blond man, the one he'd been wanting to talk to since his arrival in Generica. His name was Lex. Lex had taken him, Luthor, and Serene back to ShadeHaven after the battle at the Spitting Cobra. At first, Erik thought that Lex was being polite, but his expression held something else. Another motive that only time would unravel. After dropping Luthor and Serene off at the house, Erik invited Lex to go for a walk on the beach. Once there, they talked of many things, the battle, other trouble in Generica, the Shunned Center (although only briefly), and now about themselves. To Erik, it was apparent that Lex had some inside source of information. Lex seemed to know what he was thinking before he opened his mouth. Silently, Lex reminded himself to have a talk with his big-mouthed pupil, Luthor. "It's not Luthor's fault, dude. I'm cursed with knowing things," said the blond surfer-mage, interrupting Erik's thoughts. Erik was taken by surprise. His pulse began to quicken, "What? You're telepathic?" "Not exactly. Let's just say that I know a lot more than I should. It's terrible. Takes the fun out of surprises." "Then you know why I wanted to talk to you? I mean why I REALLY wanted to talk to you?" Erik thought his heart was about to leap out of his chest. "Yep, and honestly, I'm flattered." He flashed Erik a smile of snowy-whiteness and continued, "I'm afraid I'm not much of a romantic. There's some things you need to know before we launch into anything closer than friendship." Erik felt light-headed. He couldn't help but smile back. "It's like this. You noticed, I guess, that I have a twin brother." "Yes. I've seen both of you." "Well, he's not really a twin. He's me. Back at the housewarming party, you remember I was serving pizza and talking to Luthor in the other room all at the same time." "Yes, I remember. I was *trying* to be inconspicuous. You noticed me?" Erik flushed in embarrassment. He turned away and feigned interest in a small ship that was sailing in the distance, but he knew that he could hide nothing from Lex. "Of course I noticed you. You kept staring at me with that `I wish he'd come hither' gaze. But then when we talked, you were just formal, so I figured it was just me seeing things." "I didn't think it was the time or the place. Besides, with so many people in Generica from other worlds, it's hard to judge what their reaction is going to be. Believe it or not, I was once on a world where they burned men for their feelings toward other men." A flash of a young man's screaming face surfaced from the depths of Erik's vast ocean of memories. He mentally shuddered and pushed it away again. "Anyway, if you're not interested, I understand." "Erik, if I wasn't interested, I'd be back at the lighthouse. And there's a lot of worlds with strange attitudes about love and sex. The naked-ape brain just doesn't want to accept that it's got some strong instincts wired in. Oh well, neither here nor now. I do like you, Erik, and we could get very close. It's just that we have to start on solid ground." Solid ground? Erik looked down to see the retreating ocean waves pulling sand into the ocean. "You're joking, right?" "No, really. I do have to tell you this though. It's a consent thing." "What do you mean? Is this something to do with inter-species relationships? Luthor and I have discussed your apparently non-human aspects, like the shape-shifting." "Sort of. I'm not human. OK, this body is human, but I'm really from a world so far from here that the natural laws almost don't support life," Lex explained. He crouched down, picked up a rock, and skipped it across the waves. "But you look human. I'd be able to tell if you were covered in an illusion." "It's not really illusion, it's more real. My real shape is ... You have magesight. Turn it on, I'll hold still for a second." The two men stopped walking along the beach. They turned to face each other Erik looked at him through his mind's eye, no longer trusting his sense of vision. It was more of a feeling than a real image. The first thing he noticed was the overall aura surrounding the mage. The natural lines of magical power seemed to bend into it...truly an interesting trick. Beneath the aura, however, was what he was really looking for. Lex flickered for a moment and then showed his Real form, a cat-like humanoid, the likes of which were unknown to the blond ShadowMaker. A small gasp of surprise escaped from him, unnoticed by his curious mind. "Yeah, I know, cats are cliche', so sue me. I was the only one when my family originally started. Anyway, that's the real me. That elemental vortex. If I took that form in the outer world here, I'd die after a few minutes. I can get around it, like the trick with the rose, but it's easier to consume a living thing from the local world and then take on its form." "What do you mean by consume? By your tone, I don't think it has its normal meaning." Erik and Lex resumed their walk along the shore. "Consume. Eat. Absorb. Have Intercourse With. Sex. Conversation." Erik objected, "I don't know anything about your native language, but those don't exactly mean the same thing. We are having a conversation now, but we certainly aren't eating each other." "They're all synonyms where I come from. When you live in a place where everything's made of ideas, and they all shift and change around you constantly, you find that certain, uh, functions, reduce to their simplest form. If we get too intimate, I'm dangerous to you." "Why? I find it hard to believe that you would do anything hurtful." Another picture flashed through Erik's mind. A picture of Luthor, turned to stone by Lex's hand. Perhaps Lex was dangerous after all. "If we do get close physically, I'm going to want to get closer, emotionally, and if I do, then I may find it harder not to accidentally devour you." "Accidentally devour me? That sounds a bit dramatic, don't you think? A bit painful too." Erik chuckled, partially because he thought of Lex stuffing him into his mouth in the midst of passion, but partially to keep from looking scared. "No, from my experience, it's intensely pleasurable. Of course, some of us are clumsier than others, but my mate ar'Elya is very skilled, and so am I, according to my tutors." "About ar'Elya. If we are going to do anything, I don't want to have to sneak around, but then again, I don't want to lose her friendship." "You won't. She doesn't mind. She thinks you're cute, she even threatened that if we get too close, that H'ro would have to come woo you away from me." "H'ro? The name is familiar. Is he another of your `brothers'?" "Not exactly. My mate has four primary forms in Nexus, and while she's got a feminine persona altogether, she can be just as male as you or I. H'ro is the male side of her Warrior form." "That noisy fellow in the leathers?" "Yeah, the big redheaded barbarian lout you saw in the Spitting Cobra." Erik smiled at the thought of the barbarian holding flowers and whispering softly into his ear. It was a silly thought, but certainly a pleasant one. "Tell me, is ar'Elya like you? I mean does she split herself all the time like you do?" "Not exactly. This is kind of complicated. She takes roles, interactions. She likes to be in several places at once, which gives me brain cramps. I can usually only make one body at a time. See, I take the more traditional magical elements, fire, water, air, earth, void. The big five. But trust me, it's fun to do the overlap with hers..." "It sounds a bit confusing. I think I'd go a little mad, but then again, I'm no stranger to playing mind games with myself. You're saying you don't make more than one body, but you were in different places at the House Warming. If it's not bi-location, then how is it done?" "Time travel. Raye doesn't do so much of it. Gives _her_ brain cramps. She doesn't like looping around on herself. But, paradox is a tool, for my family." Lex grinned and let the water wash phosphorescent over his bare feet. "Paradox, eh? Like the experiments with the cat in the box, I suppose?" "What experiment is that?" "Oh, a long time ago, when ShadowMagery was young, a woman I knew came up with a theory about truly random events. She showed me by putting a cat in a box and attaching a magical device that had a 50% chance of turning the cat into a mouse. She activated the device and pointed out that there was no way of telling the outcome of the experiment until the box was opened. Until that point, the cat was both still a cat AND changed into a mouse. Many years later, I duplicated the experiment with Luthor's help. We put the cat in the box and turned on the device, then we both worked the Shadows to opposite ends. He forced the cat to remain a cat and I forced the change. The pull was strong enough that it was easier for both events to happen than to maintain the struggle between us. When we opened the box, there was both a cat and a mouse there. Know what happened then?" "Tell me." "The cat ate the mouse. The universe returned to its natural state. Luthor and I decided not to try the experiment again. I guess you need the right breeding to do it to yourself." "Nah, you just need to be able to swim with the quantum ducks," Lex said, then made a strange sort of quacking noise. Erik chuckled at the thought. After a minute, he spoke again. "Honestly, Lex, you've surprised me. You are able to split yourself into multiple people, travel the universe on a whim, and go to the mat with godlings. What could possibly attract you to me, a simple human?" Erik studied Lex's face for a moment, seeing his friend-mage in a new light of understanding. The more he learned about Lex, the more complex and interesting he found him. "Easy. You're smart and very good looking, and I'm human enough to enjoy that. Always did, even though it wasn't really condoned by my own society, even before I merged with 'Raelf." "How did that happen anyway, the merge I mean." "Oh, life story time? OK... I was born on a world not too different from this one, called Earth." "'Earth'? Your plane is named after dirt?" Erik chuckled, "Not a very imaginative name, is it?" Lex thought about it for a moment. "No, I guess not, but then again, the people of Earth were always prosaic about that kind of thing. It's not an uncommon failing -- if you look far enough back, most human peoples have names for themselves that mean `people' and everyone else is `not-people' -- but then, my Earth was especially strange. Full of weird things Man was Not Meant to Know." He snorted. "I see, well, continue with your story." "I was a reckless kid; I ran away from home. Nothing big, my folks loved me, but we didn't really get along. We had religious disagreements, a few other things. Mostly I think I was just getting old enough to get out of there, but it was too early by my society's rules. Well, I spent some time in the streets of one of our big cities. Things were very easy for me, easier than for most kids in the streets. The country I lived in had more than enough wealth, I could have lived on public assistance, did for a few months before I got bored with it. I spent lots of time at the ocean, surfing and swimming. I was always a natural athlete. So I got hired on as a lifeguard, making sure other people wouldn't drown. Made a living doing that for a few years, after I moved into a house with five other guys. Two were hustlers, `cuddleboys' in the local dialect. They tried to get me into it too, but I didn't like the looks or the smell of the men and women they'd bring home, and there was too much chance of getting a disease. And my world didn't have great gobs of magic, so once you got something bad, you had to hope the doctors could get rid of it. So I was always pretty careful." "Doctors? What, like priests?" "No, healing and religion had nothing to do with each other, well, not directly anyway. Doctors use something that grew out of alchemy and chiurgery, they developed a view of the body as a machine, and they were learning how the machine works. They use a lot of drugs." "So they're more like herbalists?" "Yeah, except the drugs were more potent, and they knew an awful lot about how things work together. They could even cure some kinds of cancer, which I guess is seen as a curse here. One treatment makes all your hair fall as a side effect. It's a pretty strange system, and it left out a lot of the spiritual side of healing, but generally it worked." Lex drew a pattern on the rippling waves, watching it float phosphorescently on the surface, until it finally went to pieces between two waves. Erik absent mindedly called up a wind to increase the size of the approaching waves. There was something about the ocean's power and beauty that had always drawn him. "Anyway, I didn't have all that spectacular a life. I had fun, I competed as a surfer but it wasn't any way to get rich back then. No sponsors, no big money. Made a few really bad movies." "I've heard of your 'surfing', but what is are 'moovees'?" "They're a form of entertainment, kind of like big illusions that tell stories. I'd be careful about introducing the idea here. They have a majorly disrupting effect on society once they get going. Takes years for the aftershocks to settle. People get so strange when they see gorgeous actors with no physical flaws, fifteen times life size. And when they get into the erotic stuff, oh my." Erik laughed, picturing a pair of buttocks ten feet high floating before an audience. Lex grinned and continued. "Anyway, I made enough money to play around for a few more years, and a guy had just invented a way to fly with a really light framework in the shape of a wing. Called hang-gliding." Erik (being an Air specialist) considered the possibilities. His mind's eye developed a picture of people attached to kites, soaring far above the earth, swooping and diving with the air currents. His eyes sparkled with excitement. "Yeah, I thought you might like that. Well, the early models weren't very good, but I kept trying out new changes. Around this time I got adopted by this big airhead red setter dog, called him Jimi after a musician I really liked. Took him with me on all my flying trips. Anyway, one day a new wing design failed. I got caught in a stall, and this was before the double-wing designs, I couldn't pull up. I fell about five hundred feet onto rocks." "Didn't you have a back-up, like a magical ring or something?" Erik was shocked to think that such precautions would be overlooked. "No. No rings. No strong magic there. Oh, they had things we called parachutes, but I never used one. They're big sheets of silk or similar fabric, fastened into a sort of air-cup, but I always thought they were too bulky. Besides, I never thought I'd actually crash. Wouldn't have helped anyway -- I was too close to the ground, by the time I got free of the glider, the 'chute wouldn't have time to slow me enough." "So how did you survive?" "Well, Jimi came running up faster than any dog I've ever seen. He licked me on the face, and started to talk to me. Told me he could keep me from dying. I said yes. I was afraid to die. Lapsed Episcopalian, I hadn't been to church or had mass in more than ten years, but that old fear of hell came right back when I was lying there not feeling my body below the neck." "We'll have to talk religion later - what did the dog do?" "He ate me. No, not like that. He sort of bloomed into this whirlwind thing, and suddenly I was floating in the middle of it, and there was this yellow-furred cat guy telling me that he couldn't fix my body, the damage was too bad, but he could keep me from dying if I wanted to become part of him. Scared me silly, but after a bit I started feeling really good. So I talked to him for a while, and we hit it off, he had all the seriousness and all the drive I always wanted, and he still knew how to play, and I had a lot of energy and physical talent that he could use. So we kind of merged together. We're the same person now. Or, we were before I got sort of gunked up with this know-it-all curse. But we'll figure it out, and I'll re-merge with the rest of me." Erik thought about it for half a minute, letting the idea of two seperate beings becoming one sink in. "I see, so this merging saved your life. It sounds great." "No, that's the danger. If we get really going, I might forget myself and accidentally hurt you physically. So you know the risk. It's not likely to happen, but like you say, it's possible. I really really like closeness, and I don't just like physical-for-the-sake-of-whoopie fun. It's not satisfying to me, wasn't even before I merged into 'Raelf." Erik was quiet for a few moments. He looked around and noticed they had walked quite some distance. The sun was now a distant memory to the crying seagulls. The sand had lost the burning heat of day and was now cool on his bare feet. The tide had come partially in with the rising of the moon. He looked back to Lex. He was intelligent, handsome, athletic, considerate, energetic, and everything else that Erik admired in a man. There was a risk, but life was about risks. To exist in complete safety is to cease living. "We'll take it slow, okay?" They reached out to each other and held hands as they walked back to ShadeHaven. Love and Peace and Happy Endings, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [AU] [Housebreaking] Following Trails Message-ID: References: <1993Jul14.180410.9807@data-io.com> Date: Mon, 19 Jul 1993 17:17:57 GMT [ADMIN] This is a group post. I've lost track of who all wrote it, though. Oh well. It follows after the "Jake Pitzar" post where he sends back the article on Unicorn Hunters to the Examiner. o--o When Andrea opened her eyes, it was to hear the crackling of the fire, and also the popping and hissing of something frying. "Good morning!" Jay called back, seeing her waking up. "I'm just fixing breakfast." Andrea yawned, and got to her feet. Her leg was feeling much better now. In fact, as she looked back to check, she noticed the bandage was gone, and the wound had healed completely, leaving naught behind but a small pink spot where the skin showed through. Must have been that salve he put on, Andrea thought. Either that, or 'corns are naturally fast healers. Or maybe both. "So, how are you feeling today?" Jay asked. "I noticed your leg is better." "I feel GREAT!" Andrea nickered, knowing that Jay wouldn't understand the words but hoping that the tone would convey her message for her. "Good." Jay grinned. "I wonder what your name is..." "It's Andrea," Andrea nickered. She wished he'd understand THAT, at least. She CERTAINLY hoped he wasn't going to make up some stupid name for her and call her that. "Ah, well...let me get your your breakfast and I'll eat mine." He stood up, set aside the skillet he was frying eggs in, and went over to the feed trough. He dumped some oats into it, and then went back to the fire and his own breakfast. Andrea gratefully began to eat the grain. This was very good...now she would certainly have a better idea of what Sheryl liked to eat...Then Andrea nearly choked on her food as she remembered. Sheryl! Was she all right? Had she found Jake? Andrea tossed her head. She had to find her! Andrea bolted the rest of the oats, and moved toward the door. Jay put down the skillet. "What's the matter? You need to go somewhere?" Then, noticing the way her blue eyes were shining and blazing, he said, "I guess you do." He walked up to her, hugged her around the neck. "It's been fun." Andrea could see he was holding back tears. Oh, hell, she thought. I can't leave him here. He's just a kid, and after what he did for me... Andrea walked to the door, turned back, nickered, "Hey, get your things together and come on! You're coming with me!" Jay didn't speak Unicorn, so it took him a minute or so to understand. "You want ME to come with YOU?" he asked, putting his right hand on his chest. Andrea nodded. "All RIGHT!!! Hold on a minute while I get my things together!" Jay ran back into the other stall and came out with the duffle bag slung on his shoulder. "There. I'm ready." Andrea pushed her way out through the bushy facade over the cave, and Jay followed. She stood still so he could climb on...but he couldn't quite make it. Andrea snorted, and looked around for a stump or a large rock. When Jay was finally able to get on, Andrea paused for a moment to look around, then trotted down the riverbank to the ford. She splashed across the river, then up on the far side, and then, making sure that Jay was holding on tight, began to gallop! Jay held on tight to the unicorn's mane as she raced over the ground. He was amazed--she was galloping, and yet he hardly felt it. The ride was as smooth as if he was standing still. They ran through forest and field, past mountains and valleys. Andrea was running back along the river, toward where she had fallen in, but she guessed it was a pretty long way that she had been carried. She really didn't recognize any of the terrain, and after a while she began to tire. Finally, she realized that all this running around was getting her nowhere, and stopped to rest and graze. She felt that Sheryl, who had more experience at being a unicorn, would have gotten to Jake by now, and would be better able to find her than she them. So Andrea spent the day grazing in a field, and Jay sort of sat there watching her, fixing himself lunch when he got hungry. As she stood there placidly eating, Jay pulled out a sketch pad from his knapsack. This dog-eared pad held some of Jay's best drawings in it. Though he didn't think of himself as a professional by any means, he did have a knack for arranging lines to capture reality on paper. Now he started to sketch Andrea. Throughout the day, Andrea continued trying to revert to human form. Even though she sometimes felt CLOSE, it never happened. It was, she reflected wryly, like trying to attend to a natural function while you knew there was someone watching you--no matter how hard you tried, you could ALMOST, but not quite, manage to do anything. As the evening fell, she began to feel restless, nervous. She didn't know why, but she felt she should go. So she trotted over to Jay, who put his sketchbook up and managed to climb onto Andrea's back once more, with the aid of a handy stump. Then Andrea turned and trotted off. She headed along a small forest trail, knowing, somehow, that she had to go there. Part of her (the entirely human part) was quite annoyed that she should have to be guided by instinct all the time. The other part, however, saw nothing unusual or wrong with it, and so it went. At last Andrea sensed the end was near. Right around this next bend, in fact. She galloped up, around the bend, and right into a small clearing... ---000--- The sun was just barely rising, when 'Raf woke Jake by waving a cup of hot black coffee under his nose. The centaur kid was stumbling sleepily around the camp table, making up a big pot of oat mash for him and Sheryl. Jake blinked and took the coffee. "Time to shine, dude. I wanna get looking for the trail again before it gets too old and cold." 'Raf grinned and padded over to where his mate was combing her hair. Today she just seemed to be the one with dark red hair. She took a cup of coffee from him and added contaminants from a bottle of cream and sugar. Kardia inhaled the fragrance deeply and her eyes brightened. She also took cream in her coffee. The smell of freshly caught brook trout frying along with bacon, onions, and hash browns filled the clearing. Sheryl snorted in disgust at the sight of perfectly good potatoes being fried with meat oil. Jake was still muttering to himself in a language that only vaguely resembled Generican, liberally sprinkled with epithets and long swallows of coffee. After breakfast, 'Raf >flickflicked< into an older woman wearing a nun's habit, with a younger woman standing slightly behind her. As 'Raf growled something at the wet wood and it went >fwump< and blazed up, the older woman looked to the sky, half-curtseying on one knee, and prayed: <> An overwhelming peacefulness descended upon the clearing. Andrea blinked tiredly as ar'Elya >flicked< back to the way she was before. I must be more tired than I thought, Andrea thought, resolving someday to ask ar'Elya or 'Raf how exactly they did that. She'd met many mages in her search for a cure for Sheryl, but not any who changed bodies more than most people changed clothes. Andrea got her bedroll out of her backpack, wondering in the random way peoples' minds tend to wander when they're about to fall asleep exactly where it was that her clothes and backpack went when she turned into a unicorn. As Andrea removed her shoes and armor, she said, "ar'Elya?" "Yes?" Andrea yawned again. "Could you sort of keep an eye on me, make sure I don't turn into a unicorn and run off in my sleep or something? I would be rather embarrassed if that were to happen..." ar'Elya smiled. "Don't worry about a thing." "Thanks." Andrea dozed off, a faint blue glow occasionally visible under her closed eyelids. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roaming] Disembarkation Message-ID: <22ep5hINNp51@news.gac.edu> From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Date: 19 Jul 1993 18:29:05 GMT MagicHutchHeader "26 June 1993, World: Nexus, Location: The Great Forest. "For the last three days, Pheu and I have continued our travel downriver. Pumice is still angry with our escapades in Specifica of the Furs, but he has finally come to agree with them. "We have made good time. According to the figurings of Bill and Ted, we are four days out of Generica. I think we will arrive none to soon. Lately a feeling of great unease has been growing within me. Even though I lack the sensitivity of a true mage, my magical and clerical studies have given me an understanding of the natural order. Somewhere nearby, perhaps on this very plane, forces are arrayed in conflict. I fear for our safety." Thaddius looked up from his notebook. Bill was leaning over the edge of the helm, calling to the half-elf, "Pheu wants to talk to you, man!" Thad nodded in acknowledgement. He closed up his sketches and journal book. Dumping them in his pack, he set out in search of the goblin. He found Pheu standing at edge of the _Gibraltar_. --- "Trouble, Thads," said the ranger, not turning around. "I got a call from the Lady. Dark things at work in the Forest. She worried, think She know reason. Pheu been gone long time. Too long. She want Pheu home with funny elf. Maybe you can help." "Who is this Lady, Pheu? I do not wish to seem ungreatful," replied Thad, "but I am not sure it is right for me to interfere in local affairs." The goblin turned to the half-elf and pointed a small finger at him. "You owes me life, Thad. I could asks on that alone. But not put a friend in that situation. You elf, you from forest, and raised to protects it, yes? Well, Lady same way. ANYTHING that can help Forest is used, including outsiders. She think, since you not native, maybe you can help better." Thad thought for some time, watching the shore pass by. "Very well," he finally answered. "You are a friend, Pheu. That is reason enough. But even if it wasn't, I cannot let such a grand woodland be threatened." Pheu nodded his thanks. "We get Pumice to drop us off tomorrow morning. We be be close to Lady then. Thank you, Thad." He turned back towards the cabin, looking slightly forlorn. Thad gestured, as if to follow, but was distracted by Ted yelling out the change of watch. -Thaddius Farsinger "If you need me, here I am." ****************************************************************************** Sometimes, those you love most are the ones you have to leave behind. Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [AU] [Housebreaking] Shepherd Moon and Morning Hymn Message-ID: References: <1993Jul14.180410.9807@data-io.com> Date: Mon, 19 Jul 1993 19:24:38 GMT [ADMIN] Because people want to get on with things, I'm posting this in short succession to the prior post, Following Trails. This is a group concoction by the people named at bottom. The sky darkened, the moon rose high, and the forest came alive with a variety of noises; nocturnal creatures were using this time for their own purposes. The night went by calmly, peacefully. Thanks to ar'Elya's wards, nothing evil came near the party. However, something else did... <> Andrea woke. The sky was dark, the familiar constellations shining crisp and clear overhead. Why did I wake up? Andrea wondered. She sat up, looked around. No one else was awake--all were sleeping. What was going on? And when she saw what was at the far end of the clearing, she entirely forgot to wonder. At first Andrea thought they were mist, risen off the ground and floating into camp. Then she made out their shapes, the snowy-white forms of four unicorns standing at the opposite end of the encampment. They seemed to be peering at Sheryl and Jay. The leader snorted, and turned his head back to his companions. "What are these humans doing in our forest?" he nickered. Though the sound carried clearly across to Andrea, none of the others in the party even stirred. "And with one of the Breed in their company?" "Perhaps they captured her?" the second unicorn, a mare only slightly shorter than the leader, suggested. "Then why would this clearing be warded AGAINST evil?" the third, a stallion whose voice carried the same youthful overtones that a human teenager's might. "It doesn't make sense." "Perhaps she chose to be with them willingly?" the fourth, a filly perhaps the same age as the third 'corn suggested. The leader snorted. "Ridiculous. I have not heard of one of the Breed taking a human companion in many years." "None of the Breed has gone near human settlements in many years," the third 'corn reminded him. "You do remember the legends..." "How human virgins supposedly have the ability to charm us. Bah. I would say that as many humans were charmed by the Breed as it was the other way around." "I've always discounted the old virgin myths myself," the older mare agreed. "Very sensible of you," the leader replied drily, though she wasn't finished yet. "As *I* see it," she said, "it has more to do with the personality of the human and the Breed-born. If something in both is mutually compatible, then..." "It is a rather pointless discussion," the leader interrupted, "as none of the Breed has been with a human for many, many years. But here we seem to have an exception." He tossed his head amusedly at Jay and Sheryl. The pair were cuddled up against each other, and Jay had one of his arms around Sheryl's neck. A blissfully peaceful expression was on Jay's face. "Indeed," the mare replied drily. "What do you suggest we do about it?" The older stallion tossed his head and snorted. "Report it to the herd, of course. What else CAN we do?" The younger stallion had wandered over to where Jake was dozing, and was sniffing at him. He nuzzled him, to no effect. "Your sleeping spell worked," he reported. "Not even touching him wakes him up." "They are all asleep for the rest of the night," the older mare said. "But that was a most incautious way of testing it." The younger stallion tossed his head. "It's always worked in the past, no reason why it should fail now." The older stallion snorted something derogatory about the younger generation that Andrea wasn't quite able to catch, then said, "It is close to dawn. We should return to the herd." "Agreed," the older mare replied. The stallion reared, wheeled, and galloped out of the clearing, trumpeting a clarion call as the other three followed close behind. As the sound of their hoofbeats faded, Andrea watched bemusedly. She briefly considered following them, but shook her head. She'd just gotten together with some of her friends; she was not going to go running out into the unknown once again. Not even for a whole HERD of unicorns. And she wasn't sure she could control the change in the presence of more 'corns. Andrea chuckled, realizing that many young maidens would give their right arms for what she had just seen in the last five minutes. It would be considered the high point of their lives, and they would talk about it, and it would grow in the telling, for as long as they lived. Perhaps that was how the virgin legends had been started in the first place. There was a dim rosy color in the eastern sky, which was already beginning to lighten with the false dawn, in preparation for the real thing. Andrea stood, stretched. She wasn't sleepy in the least, so she guessed she might as well make herself useful rather than sitting around bored. It didn't look as though anyone else would be waking up for a while--even 'Raf and ar'Elya seemed to be asleep, though she strongly suspected they were faking it. They seemed powerful enough not to be overcome by even unicorn magic. As Andrea's gaze fell on 'Raf, he emitted a loud snore, and opened his eyes long enough to wink. Or did he? It was so difficult to tell in this light. ar'Elya, without opening her eyes, placed an elbow neatly in 'Raf's midsection, he OOFed without opening his eyes, and Andrea giggled. "Okay, okay, you win," Andrea said, shaking her head. She got up, rolled up her bedroll, and walked to the center of the clearing where the dying embers of the fire remained. She poked a stick in, stirred them around. Hmm, the fire had gone completely out; there were no coals left. She gathered some more wood and dropped it on the ashes. As she turned to get her flint and steel from her backpack, she heard a FWUMP! sound. She turned back, and saw that the fire had apparently ignited itself behind her back. Andrea glanced at 'Raf, who was the perfect epitome of innocently sleeping. She could almost see a halo above his head. She snorted, and looked around. She realized that if she wanted coffee, she would probably have to make it herself, since 'Raf hadn't left a pot out. It was no problem, she had her own pot. However, it was pretty small, and if anyone else wanted coffee, he would have to make his own. She went to get it... ...and when she came back, there was a large, shiny coffeepot sitting on the fire. Andrea looked at 'Raf. He hadn't moved. "Very funny, 'Raf," she said. She sat down by the fire. "Guess I'll just wait 'til the other folks wake up." The first to "wake up" was, of course, 'Raf. He came over, checked the fire. "Coffee smells great," he remarked, grinning. Andrea smiled. "Yes, it does, doesn't it?" She looked over at the sunrise. "Looks like it's going to be a beautiful day today," she remarked. 'Raf nodded. "There's definitely magic in the air." Andrea looked at him, but his face was perfectly serious. She shook her head. ar'Elya was the next up. She yawned, stretched, and walked over to the fire, sat down next to 'Raf. She was her blonde mage-self this morning, and the cries of her dragonets echoed faintly in the distance as they launched themselves into the sky, anticipating the thermal updrafts that would form as the rising sun began to heat the land. "Nice day for the trip home," she said to Andrea. Andrea fidgeted. "I don't know...I'm not really sure that I'm ready to go back to...to town yet. Something inside of me feels...hmm, insecure at the prospect of returning to a busy city, with lots of people, and houses so close together...I need the open plains, I need...space." ar'Elya nodded. "It's perfectly all right...We understand. It's merely a side-effect of the spell, it should disappear as the control-spell merges naturally into your aura." "I'll have to thank Enn Piecy for that ring the next time I see him," Andrea said. "I wonder where he got it?" 'Raf shrugged. "Probably some artificer-mage. It's funny, though...that ring would have to be specifically crafted to work, not only with the specific curse cast, but with the person the curse was cast upon as well. Whoever created it had to know, in advance, a great deal about both you AND the effects of the curse." "That is odd," Andrea agreed. "It makes the question of who gave him that ring even stranger." She shrugged. "Oh, well. I'm rather curious as to what your scan of me last night revealed." "Come to think of it, so am I. Let me check..." 'Raf pulled out the amber amulet that was the only item that the satyrlion appeared to carry in common with 'Raelf-who-Andrea-recalled. He muttered for a few minutes, the language unfamiliar but the meaning somehow clear: <> A fog formed in the air in front of them, the holographic illusion from 'Raelf's mage-deck, but in miniature. He growled at it, and muttered again <> and it grew larger. The image exactly resembled the one that Andrea had seen over a week and a half ago, in the Dragon's Inn. It showed a web of green light embedded in the faint grey of the illusion, following the shape of a human woman, outlining her body in a branching that resembled the lines of blood vessels or maybe nerves. The point of view shifted, panning and zooming in an impossible direction into the head, where there was suddenly the same network of lines and cloudy masses that 'Raelf had identified as being "personal image" when he showed the curse on Sheryl. There was a strange structure, a sort of overlay of unicorn on top of the human, with tattered fragments of black that disappeared even as they watched. The overlay gradually focussed over the course of a few moments, into a second image, a perfect Unicorn to match the human. It connected to the green fire web at the same place, and there was a silvery construction there, a ring spinning slowly. Blue fire went from a pool that fed into the ring, and was directed into the human shape, with only very small amounts being directed to the Unicorn. "That's it. Control mechanism." 'Raf pointed. "The scan shows what happened to your image over the last three-four days. Couldn't go further back, there's too much temporal noise. Anyway it looks like you have a nice little switch here, lets you be a human or a Unicorn at whim. I'd be careful about trying to be both at the same time, it might mess up the controls some." Ar'Elya gestured, making parts of the image come closer to her view from her vantage point. Somehow this didn't mess with what the rest of them saw. She nodded, calling a dragonet over to her. "That's pretty much what we thought. Strange, though, the ring will be fully integrated into your body in just a few hours. You should have no trouble controlling the urge to hide in the woods. Unless..." She zoomed in on the Unicorn. "Ah. Yes. It's closer to the Nexus archetype than the one Sheryl's carrying. That could be inconvenient, but since there's still time, we could adjust it for you. Afterwards you're stuck with it, and I doubt that there's time for Kardia to make a web to get you out of the spell before it sets in." "You mean, I'll always be turning into a unicorn when I least expect?" Andrea growled, thinking about how dangerous it would be to change in the middle of a high-wire approach to a merchant's treasure trove. "No, you should have absolute control. It's just that local Unicorns have some instincts that aren't really helpful." "So Kardia won't be able to undo the spell for me?" "She won't be able to undo it painlessly," 'Raf interjected. He had shut down the display, and the amulet was now just a yellow crystalline bauble hanging in the fur on his chest. "Oh," Andrea blinked. "What's required, then? How can I keep from running off to the woods every time I happen to turn into a Unicorn?" "Well," ar'Elya smiled, and held up three dragonets, "My little ones here, can eat excess magic. If we do the right things, we ought to be able to remove those unwanted additions now, before they set." Andrea looked suspicious. "What will it cost me?" "Not much," ar'Elya said, still smiling, but the smile was beginning to have a slightly greedy cast. "Just some investigative work for a friend of mine." "Investigative?" "Oh, nothing difficult. Someone's been making some _ugly_ toys and she wants them found, and stopped." The blonde sorceress teased one of the dragonets with a strand of her hair. Andrea shrugged. "I suspect there's more to this, but I'll agree for now." She remembered the words of her old friend and classmate Carson: "First of all, a professional thief must be a professional information collector." She had been doing just that for the last ten years, so she didn't doubt her own abilities. "Good. Now, you just sit there, and close your eyes, and let yourself think about going into Generica." The sorceress began making a slow, sinuous gesture with her left hand, and Andrea let her eyes drift shut. There was a wisp of wind blowing against her face, and she was tempted to open her eyes, but she knew there would be a dragonet there, and she'd flinch, so she just tried to envision going into the city ... The image came up, sharper even than dreaming. Illusion, she thought. Well, don't waste it, girl. There's the walls around the city. First walk up to the (flinch, flinch, rising panic) gates... No. No panic, how strange. Then into the noise and bustle (flinch, run) of the entry square... the urge to run faded away. Wow. Sneaking along the tops of the houses, moving lightly from building to building, to steal (WRONGwrong?) to take away that which she needed and they did not... Hm. Still felt somewhat wrong. How annoying. She considered being a unicorn in the city, and slid down off the roof on all fours, landing with unnatural quiet on the cobbles below. The smell was horrible, the water fouled and the ambience of sickness and malaise was all around, but she didn't feel any kind of compulsion to flee. She imagined seeing a virgin, like Jay, or maybe one of the children in the city. The sensation of purity, of something ritually unspoiled, was pleasant but not overwhelming. She felt no urge to go cuddle the virgin, no need to sacrifice her safety. "OK," she thought to herself, "This I can handle." She opened electric blue eyes to find three small dragons perched on her horn, crooning a song at her. Panic almost took her again, but she remembered the feeling of changing, and willed herself to be human again. Nothing happened. "Don't try so hard," 'Raf said in the speech of the Unicorns, and she gave him a startled look--he was still a satyrlion, but he'd grown a single horn in his forehead. It vanished, and he sagged a bit, as if that had been something difficult to do. Don't try so hard. She sighed, and remembered wistfully having fingers and standing on her hind legs. The horn vanished, and the three dragonets made a startled flurry in the air as they returned to their mistress. She had done it. She was human once more. As Andrea, 'Raf, and ar'Elya sat around the fire talking about Andrea's condition and then doing something about it, the rosy dawn crept higher above the horizon, just beginning to dilute into that pale color that heralds the rise of the sun itself and the start of a new day. In the large domed tent-like structure that 'Raf had referred to as a yurt, most of the rest of the unlikely party lay sleeping. Kardia lay curled up on her left side. It was an unnatural sleeping posture for her, but one she had to get used to. Lying any other way caused her ribs to hurt so that she woke up. Jake was curled up under a tree. The unicorns' sleep spell had hit him the hardest, since he was the closest to where they had been standing. He might not wake up for hours. Clyde was, like Kardia, sleeping on his side. It was kind of hard for the young centaur--if his horse part was lying down, his human body was still upright. How could he get to sleep like that? So he was trying sleeping on his side, and it was a bit uncomfortable. Being as heavy as he now was, he couldn't just turn over in his sleep if he wanted to--he had to get to his feet to change his position much at all. He didn't believe 'Raf's assurances that he could sleep standing up if he wanted to. Sleep standing up?! Did 'Raf think he'd been born yesterday or something? The last two members of the party were not in the yurt but were instead sleeping quietly in a secluced little niche, separated from the rest of the clearing by a few waist-high bushes and shrubs (Jay had been a little scared of the tent, and he was no stranger to sleeping outdoors). Jay and Sheryl were gently dozing, Jay lying on his back, Sheryl on her side next to him. There was a sudden rustling sound off in the underbrush; perhaps it was a fox in pursuit of a rabbit, or a quail taking off from its nest. Whatever it was, it caused Jay to jerk awake in the way that really light sleepers commonly do. He didn't just move; his whole body spasmed. In Jay's half-awake mind, he was back in his father's house, and his father had just come into the room, whip in hand, and perhaps made some small noise that startled Jay awake. That was why Jay had become such a light sleeper--his father took some sort of sadistic pleasure (or so it seemed) in catching him asleep. "Get up, you lazy lout!" he would yell, lashing Jay with the whip between words. "What'm I feedin' ya for, anyways? There's WORK to be done!!!" "Coming, father, coming..." Jay mumbled, half-raising his arms to ward off the blows he knew were soon to land. "Don't hit me..." Then he opened his eyes, and found the concerned eyes of a young unicorn filly peering into his. "Oh," Jay said, remembering where he was. She nickered softly, and blinked. "Oh..." Jay said again, peering into the young 'corn's eyes. There was nothing else he COULD say. He was absolutely enthralled by those eyes. They were so beautiful, so warm, so haunting...To his astonishment, Jay felt himself filled by a feeling he couldn't remember feeling before. It took him a moment to realize that this was happiness, TRUE happiness. It was as if his entire life up to now had been a scattered jigsaw puzzle, and the last piece had just now fallen into place. Not even when he had been in his secret cavern hiding place, away from all the abuse and all the shame, had he felt this kind of joy. Nothing in his meager 14-year existance had even come close to this. And gazing up into the eyes of the young unicorn filly looking down at him, he knew that she was feeling the same thing. They were soulmates, this Jay knew. And he also knew that they would always be together. Jay pushed himself up on his elbows, sat up, never taking his eyes off of Sheryl's. Then he couldn't help himself. Tears formed in his eyes, and he reached out and embraced her neck tightly, softly sobbing. Joy and sadness are but opposite sides of the same coin, so it is not uncommon for extreme feelings of the one to provoke responses normally reserved for the other. And thus it was that Jay muffled his sobs of joy in Sheryl's soft mane, and Sheryl seemed a bit misty-eyed herself. They both knew that they would never be alone again. Later that morning, the sun was a bit higher in the sky and it looked like it was going to be a perfect day. The clearing was brightly lit, birdsong of all descriptions wafted from the trees...the idyllic kind of day that is perfect for outdoors activities like picnics, swimming, or simply lying on the ground looking up at the sky. Jay and Sheryl were playing tag around the clearing, ducking and dodging around trees, rocks, Jake Pitzar (who was still under the unicorns' sleep spell), and anyone else who happened to be in the way. Andrea was leaning against a tree by the side of the clearing, still a little confused and emotionally drained from what ar'Elya had just done for her. She was watching expressionless as the two of them frolicked together. Andrea sighed. "I guess I knew all along I'd have to lose her one day..." "But you haven't lost her," ar'Elya, in her blond mage form, said from her right side. Andrea nearly jumped a foot in the air, but managed to control her reaction. How had ar'Elya DONE that?! Not even Fujiko could move that silently! "You haven't lost her," ar'Elya repeated, stroking the neck of a bronze dragonet that perched on her right forearm. It crooned happily. "She's still your sister, no matter what form she may have or who she befriends." She thrust her arm upward, launching the dragonet into the sky. It soared upward, catching the thermal updraft from the clearing and drifting amid the clouds. "Yes, but--" Andrea began. "Just look at them." Kardia came up on Andrea's other side. "See how happy they are?" Andrea sighed. "Yes. That's EXACTLY what I see." Her eyes shimmered between their natural color and the unicorn's electric blue. "She's found her virgin." She smiled mirthlessly. "And *I* was the one who found him for her." Kardia saw what Andrea was thinking. "Oh, no," she said, "Surely you can't believe that!" Andrea shook her head. "I've been having trouble deciding WHAT to believe lately. First I believed for ten years that everything somehow be all right if I could just get Sheryl changed back into a human again. Then I found that it was impossible, and wasn't what she wanted anyway. Then I believed that we finally had the curse behind us, and that son-of-a-lich wizard showed up and put it on ME. Only I think I'm beginning to like it too. And then I was nearly killed, and rescued by Jay, and now HE'S the one--" A single gasping sob escaped her. "--he's the one she's chosen over me." "Listen to me, Andrea." Kardia waited until Andrea focussed on her. "She has not chosen him over you. She was your sister, she is your sister, she will always be your sister. Nothing can change that. Nothing is changing that. Even though she's found him, she still needs you. They both need you. Be supportive, help them out, don't push them away because of jealousy. Be as much a friend to Jay as you have been to Sheryl. Nothing has changed except you." Andrea stared blankly at Kardia, "I--I didn't see it that way," she said. "You're right. I'm just being stupid." Kardia shook her head, "No, not stupid," she grinned, "you're being human. I am the one that should apologize, I'm just tired of dealing with angst and you looked like you could use a bit of debunking." "It's all right," Andrea said. "I once had to render someone a similar favor." She remembered her short friendship with the mage Jiriku Goldeies, and with his companion, Kyhra. Where were they now? she wondered. Dead? Lost? It didn't really matter at the moment. In silence, they watched once more as Jay and Sheryl ran around until they finally collapsed, exhausted, into a little equine and adolescent heap. "Look at them," Kardia said again. "Somehow, I just think that they're RIGHT for each other. It's almost as if they were FATED to meet." She mused, "I wonder if all virgin-unicorn pairings are this way?" Andrea nodded. "I think I'm beginning to see what you mean." Sheryl looked happier than she'd been in ages. How could she begrudge her that happiness? "That boy, Jay," Kardia was saying, "shows all the signs of serious abuse." Her furtive glance at her left leg was not lost on Andrea or ar'Elya. "Yes," ar'Elya said, slowly. "I could see it in his eyes when I spoke with him for a few moments at breakfast. He's been beaten regularly by a man, it was his father, I think. The boy's mother was a fragile woman, and she died in labor, having him. The man he saw as his father, held his mother's death against the lad all his life. He spent much of his life with the shame of having caused his mother's death. Even though he remembered the priest in town telling him it wasn't his fault, he also remembered his father striking him, cursing him for taking her from him. And the constant beatings... he would be beaten while being told he was a worthless burden, then set to working while his father stood over him and whipped him when he made any mistakes, when he slowed down to rest..." "His back is a network of scars," Andrea said, not even bothering to wonder how ar'Elya could know such things. "I saw that when he...rescued me. And some recent wounds, too, but I healed them. Or my unicorn-self did, somehow..." "I don't think anything could heal the internal scars," Kardia said, speaking with the voice of experience. "Anything except time, or Sheryl. I think that she'll be very good for him." "Perhaps he for her, as well," ar'Elya said. Andrea nodded. "Yes...there never is anyone around for her to play with, and she does like to play. I guess that Jay will make a pretty good playmate for her." "Not to mention an apprentice-thief for you," Kardia said. Andrea started. "That's right," Kardia remarked. "After all, he does seem to want to be a thief--you said that yourself last night. And if you're going to be taking care of them anyway, you might as well teach him..." As Andrea pondered this new idea, Kardia said, "I think I'll go up and talk to him." Kardia yawned, stretched, and walked out toward the twosome. Andrea and ar'Elya watched her go. A thought struck Andrea, it worried her. She asked ar'Elya, "Is it possible that--that *I* might--" "--become attached to some virgin?" ar'Elya shook her head. "No. For one thing, you're a mature unicorn mare, unlike Sheryl. Also, you're part human. And humans, as a rule, don't form that kind of attachment to other humans." Andrea chuckled. "Part human," she said, smiling. "A half-elven thief said something to me once: 'To the humans, I'm half-elf. To the elves, I'm half-human.'" ar'Elya nodded. "Sad, but true. Most beings do not look beyond appearances to see the true person inside." She turned away, then turned back around, as if to say one more thing. >Flick< and she was darker-haired, dressed differently, poured into a silk kimono and holding a long-stemmed ivory pipe in one hand, with which she gestured languidly. A heady floral perfume filled the air -- mimosa, Andrea realized. "But I would be careful of handsome unicorn stallions, were I you," the black-haired woman said, a rogueish grin on her lips. "Huh? What do you mean?" Andrea asked. "Oh, I think you know..." >Flick< and she was back to her travelling self, red-haired and holding an alpenstock. And still with the rogueish grin. This is getting weirder and weirder, Andrea thought. -- Steve Hutchison -- 'Raf, Clyde, hutch@ibeam.ht.intel.com Penny Hutchison -- ar'Elya in all her facets, penny@agora.rain.com Chris Meadows -- Andrea and Sheryl, CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU or CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU Liralen Li -- Kardia Xvaramene, li@inigo.data-io.com MagicHutchHeader From: corleyj@helium.gas.uug.arizona.edu (Jason D Corley ) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Pitzar][etc] What You Know. Message-ID: <22evft$qut@organpipe.uug.arizona.edu> Date: 19 Jul 93 20:17:01 GMT _____________ I was back there, feeling the queasy weight of dimensional travel press into my stomach. Then I was home ("Not really," I thought, "I'm only dreaming.") listening to my brother play the whistle, his tune sliding lightly up and down. But when I looked, it wasn't the dented brass flute I knew like the worn boots on my feet. It was a pure white whistle, and as I looked closer, I saw that it was a human leg bone, still stained scarlet in places, yellow and brittle. My brother's fingers were longer and paler than I remembered. "Wait a minute," I thought. "I don't have a brother." I looked him in the eye, and he said "You know." And then he flung the blood-spattered bone away and it shattered on the wide grey ground. His fingernails raked at the skin on his face, revealing white bone beneath, no blood at all. His thumbs gouged into his eyes, pushing the eyeballs out to the side, a grotesque skeleton emerging from beneath his skin. He leapt at me, snarling, and I thought "Maybe he is my brother after all." --------------- I woke up being shaken gently. I heard someone say "Look, he's not going to wake up. He got hit with a sleep sp...oh." I sat up. 'Raelf, Clyde, Andrea, Jay and Sheryl were standing in a tight ring around me. "Well, well," I said, "the gang's all..." I turned around and I heard by voice trail off, "..here." There was an imp standing behind me, shifting his small weight from foot to foot, softly giggling and murmuring into the wind. "He just walked right up and started shaking you. Clyde said he might be from the paper, so.." Andrea said. Clyde interrupted her: "Yeah, they all look alike, though. Didnt wanna wake ya." "It's all right," I said. "What do you need?" I asked the small creature. The imp walked up to me, and his sparkling, shifty eyes looked me up and down. He produced a scroll of parchment and handed it to me without a word. It had Old Man Heartwell's seal on it, a generic flower he had picked up in a pawnshop years ago, dented on one side, more recognizable to me than any pair of initials. Everyone was looking expectantly at me. "Yeah, it's from the Examiner all right." I said, and when I looked up, the imp was gone. The breeze felt cool on my skin. The clouds rolled slowly across the sky. The wide fields outside Lintel looked dimmer somehow. I broke the seal. I read the letter. I stood up. "I have to go." "What?" Andrea said, "I hoped you would travel back to Generica with us." "No," I said. "I have to go. I have to go to Trarovia and look at the war up there." "Da war?" Clyde said, "I'll go witcha. Help out. Y'know." "No," I said quickly. "No, you've got to get back to Generica. Old Man Heartwell will want you to keep those street rats in line, probably give you a beat. I don't know what's going to happen with this story." "All right," Clyde said, looking a bit crestfallen. Andrea gave me a hug. "Be careful," she said. "I'll be coming back soon," I said. I shook 'Raelf's hand. "Anything you need before you go?" "No, thanks, though. I'll be back very soon." I ruffled Jay's hair and scratched Sheryl behind the ears. Sheryl was looking at me with sad, wide eyes. "I'll be fine." I said. "I'll be back before you know it." She halfheartedly nickered at me. Everybody was standing and staring at me, some with half- smiles, most with an expression I had never seen. I realised then that they were seeing an expression on my face that I didn't know was there: I was afraid. I thought it must have just been the dream I had woken up from. I felt my face pull itself back into a semblance of normalcy. "I'll be back. I will." I said, and turned, and walked away, my knapsack pulling into my shoulder. But I still don't know if I ever came back. -- ****************************************************************************** "Why shouldn't things be largely absurd, futile and transitory: they are so, and we are so, and they and we go very well together." ------Santayana Jason D. "corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu" Corley is no longer in service. MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Amaliza] Greenfeet meets green skin. Date: 20 Jul 1993 01:16:03 GMT Message-ID: <22fh0j$3rk@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> ADMIN: I tried something a little bit different this time, any critiques would be much appreciated. Hope you can follow it... It had been a day since Kayell had left Generica, after purchasing a horse to carry Giarr's body. The body was wrapped in a shroud and draped over the saddle and tied in place. Kayell ran beside the horse, saving the horse's energies for an emergency. He expected to make camp at the edge of the forest that night. It had also been a day since Jacob had been ambushed by three orcs, much to their misfortune and his delight. Since then, he had been searching for signs of the Sleepless to no avail. It seemed that they had gone someplace else. Somehow, this was more of a worry than a comfort to Jacob, he would rather have known where they were. Jacob didn't sleep well that night. Kayell awoke at the edge of the Great Forest as the sun was rising. He quickly readied the horse and ate a cold breakfast before heading out. There was a light mist on the ground and it looked light it might even rain. Kayell thanked the gods for the concealment, and headed into the forest. He moved silently, but the horse seemed to be making an incredible racket, and he wished that he didn't need it. Fortunately, though, the mist was slowly dampening everything and deadening the noise. It seemed that luck was with Kayell, at least for the moment. He worked his way east as the day wore on, stopping for lunch as the sun reached its height and the mist started to burn off in the midday heat. Jacob cursed his luck. He had been trying to find any sign of the Grunts since morning, but the mist and the dampness had made it all but impossible. He had been slowly traveling northwest towards the center of the forest in his search and had eventually given up his attempts at tracking. When the mist finally started to dissipate, he took a quick break to eat before resuming the search. As the afternoon wore on, the temperature continued to rise, there was no breeze at all, and the forest turned into a virtual sauna. A sense of foreboding grew in Jacob as the day wore on, this weather was not natural for this region and wouldn't have been in any season. By the time the sun started to go down, his leathers were soaked through with sweat, and he had had to replenish his skin of water twice. Kayell was troubled. The heat was causing Giarr's body to decompose quickly, and he didn't know if it was still feasible to take him, or it, back to Amaliza. He decided to put off the decision and see what weather the next day would bring. Kayell rubbed down the mare and hobbled her before eating yet another cold meal and settling down for sleep. He had found a decent place for camp, hidden among thick and prickly brambles, and was confident he would be safe for the night. The only problem was that the heat didn't dissipate as the night wore on. He tossed and turned for hours, only to wake at dawn drenched in sweat and feeling as if he had been up all night. When he went to put Giarr's body on the mare, the smell caught him off guard and he hurried to the other side of the camp, promptly losing the meager breakfast he had just eaten. After he recovered, he doused a cloth in the remaining wine he had left and wrapped it around his head so it covered his nose and mouth. It provided enough of a buffer to the smell, and he was able to carry the body to the mare. The problem was, the mare could smell the body and she fell to the ground as she tried to run while still hobbled. Kayell quickly moved the body away and despaired of what to do. After long moments of thought, he decided he would have to perform the Rite of Honor himself, doing as well as he could. He hefted the body over his shoulder, took the mare's reins, and started to find a safe place to set up the funeral pyre. Jacob had finally found a trail. The prints looked to be the right size and shape, but they were at least a day old. The trail led to the west, and he started in pursuit. The trail gave out a few times as it entered low ground, a result of the previous mornings dampness. He was fortunate, though, and picked the trail up again on higher ground. It looked like there were actually several Sleepless moving to the west. The going was slow as he tracked, but he was patient and and slowly but steadily the tracks got more recent. The weather was still unnaturally warm, and he made sure to fill his skin of water whenever he found a safe source. He followed the trail as long as he could, but it eventually got dark and he was forced to stop or risk losing the trail. The heat was still oppressive throughout the night, but Jacob made camp near a small stream, and the running water kept him reasonably comfortable. He awoke the next morning, and took up the trail once again. He soon gave up the trail, though, as a light breeze from the west brought the hint of smoke to his acute senses. He broke into a run and hurried towards the source, stopping every so often to pinpoint the direction. Kayell watched as the flames consumed Giarr's body, and he knelt on the bank of the stream, offering an entreaty Diantro, the minor elven God of Honor in Battle. He felt a surge of joy and relief as the color of the flames flickered, changing from orange to a bluish-white. Diantro had found Giarr worthy and his soul had been accepted into the ranks of the honorable and worthy. Kayell had spent most of the previous day searching for a place to burn the body safely and had finally found a wide stream with a flat rock nearly in its center. He had then spent much of the night bringing wood to the rock and building the pyre. At dawn, he had moved the body to the pyre. He had then started the ritual, watching from the bank of the stream as the wood started to burn as Diantro heeded the call Kayell made for Giarr. Kayell could now feel the waves of heat as the body was consumed. The heat was so intense the the rock started to turn red, and the water around it started to bubble and would have boiled if the stream flowed any more slowly. Just as the heat was starting to become unbearable, it ceased, and a sudden wind carried the ashes of Giarr into the air, and they spiraled in a small vortex as they were carried aloft. They were quickly out of site, and Kayell felt that it was over and that Diantro had turned his attentions elsewhere. He quickly whispered his gratitude, and then he noticed the rock. It had changed. It was now perfectly smooth and flat, and the surface now had Giarr's name enscribed in the center with the runes of honor and of courage enscribed above and below it. Diantro had found Giarr more than just worthy, he had been accepted into the ranks of the Chosen, one of the very few warriors selected to serve in Diantro's personal bodyguard. Kayell started to weep with both grief and joy as the full realization that Giarr was no longer in this realm, but a higher one. Jacob watched, still amazed, as tears started to roll down the green cheeks of the sylvan elf on the other side of the bank. His eyes kept slipping to the strange symbols now engraved upon the rock, a collection of lines and slashes that looked delicate and graceful, but bold at the same time. He had arrived in time to see a body consumed in flames obviuously magical in nature and warily stood watching, fighting the impulse to draw a weapon. He held his tongue, but finally nudged a rock into the stream to get the elf's attentions. The elf whirled towards the noise, and quickly drew his katana and dropped to the ready. Jacob cooly noted that he faced a skilled fighter and also noted that he favored one of his legs. Jacob once again resisted the urge to draw a weapon, but he did finally give in to his curiousity. "Who are you?" said the human from the opposite bank. The human looked to be mature by human standards, probably thirty years old or so. He was wearing brown leathers that were died with swatches of green, it looked to be effective garb to blend into the woods. He wore a longsword at his left, a shortsword at his right, and there was a large knife stapped to his lower right leg. The human's hair was dark brown, but speckled with grey. He stood at ease, but Kayell knew that the human's eyes were carefully watching his every move. "I am a traveller, passing through the forest. My name is Kayell." Jacob realized the elf wasn't saying everything, but he had expected that. No one simply 'travelled' through the forest, it was far too dangerous a place. Jacob realized the elf was waiting for him to introduce himself, so he did. "My name is Jacob, sometimes known as Jacob Greenfeet, among other things. I'm a ranger and this is where I work." "It is an honor to meet you, your profession is a respected one." "Thank you. You know, you could have caused a lot of damage if that fire had spread." "I know. I was careful," said Kayell. There was an uncomfortable silence as the two stared at each other for a moment, but it was broken when the sound of a stick cracking was heard from the woods beyond Kayell. With a curse, Kayell spun towards the sound, cursed, and said, "Grunts," as three of the creatures emerged from the woods. The elf feinted toward the left, and then leapt at the Sleepless on the right. The katana struck several times in rapid succession, and then there were two of the mottled grey creatures facing him. They warily approached the elf, encircling him. They both had large studded maces, and were wearing crude scale armor. Jacob actually thought that the elf still had the advantage, though. He looked up and down the stream, looking for a place to cross. It looked to be deep in both directions, and didn't narrow appreciably. It looked like a jump to the rock followed by another jump to the other bank was the best way to quickly cross. As Jacob prepared to jump, four more Sleepless emerged from the forest on the elf's side. The elf had wounded both of the Sleepless, but it was doubtful if he could finish them off before the reinforcements reached him. Jacob took a running start and leapt. He seemed to float through the air, and Jacob realized the rock had been farther away then he had estimated. He realized he was a little short, but he extended one leg towards the rock. His foot made contact with the rock at an angle, and momentum carried his body onto the rock, using his foot as a pivot. He hit the rock hard, though, and started to roll towards the other side. He was nearly over the edge when he muttered a quick pray, and then he suddenly stopped. He stood up and noticed that the runes on the rock were softly glowing. He muttered his thanks, asked for just a bit more help, and leapt towards the bank where Kayell was being driven back towards the stream. He had taken out another of the Sleepless, but he was facing five of them. Out of the corner of his eye, Kayell saw the human land on the bank a few paces downstream, behind the Grunts. Kayell prayed he was coming to help, and launched a series of aggressive attacks at the Grunts arrayed against him. A few of the attacks reached their marks, and another one of the Grunts was done, writhing in pain. Kayell knew the human had reached them when another Grunt fell with a look of surprise, taken from behind. The human fought with longsword in right hand and shortsword in left, and moved both quickly and powerfully. The remaining three Grunts fell to their combined assault in a matter of moments, and then the elf and human stood facing each other weapons drawn. There was a moment of tension, but then Kayell bowed and said, "I am in your debt." Then he smiled. ----- Hope you enjoyed it. :) Jacob Greenfeet aka The Jolly Roger aka Brian Shea aka taz@athena.mit.edu | taz@media.mit.edu Comments welcomed and desired. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: penny@agora.rain.com (Penny Hutchison) Subject: [Rat Tales] Leah's Story Message-ID: Date: Tue, 20 Jul 1993 01:47:33 GMT [ADMIN] this is the first of a series of bedtime stories that ar'Elya is telling to Little Rat and Kev. Little Rat is used with kind permission of the Dreamer. Feathers swirled away from the door as ar'Elya entered Kev's bedroom. Two would-be innocents hid half-full pillows behind their backs and smiled guiltily at their host. "Surely there is some less messy way for you two to relax before bedtime," she gently chided as she put three mugs on the table. Kev just grinned as Little Rat said " But we seen you an' 'Raelf doin it an' you's ALWAYS real quiet afters!" "Hmm, that's true, but we also clean up afterwards." The two kids looked in dismay at the drifts of feathers on all horizontal surfaces. "You DID have to use the large pillows, didn't you? Here, put those down and take your drinks" She handed them the steaming cocoa, then stepped back to observe the chaos. "Well, if you two clean this up, it would be long past your bed time by the time you got done, and it's certainly too big of a job for me. But I do have a friend who could help with this, and afterwards she could tell you a bedtime story. How does that sound?" "What's a bedtime story?" Kev turned to Little Rat and hissed, " Don'cha know nuthin'? It's what big folks tells kids so dey don't get bad dreams." "That's partly it, Kev," ar'Elya replied, "I also want you to meet some of my friends because you'll be seeing them a lot around the lighthouse, and it would be nice if you knew something about them so they won't be complete strangers to you. Okay?" Both kids nodded as they sipped and swung their feet. "Oh, Leah, would you please come in?" ar'Elya called out the door. A pretty blonde lady with smiling eyes came in. "This is Little Rat and Kev. Little Rat and Kev, this is my friend Leah. I'll see you two in the morning." ar'Elya hugged both of them and left. "Oh, my," sighed Leah as she took in the feather blizzard. "This IS bad, isn't it? But I know who would be very good at this sort of job." She snapped her fingers and with a series of small*POP*s the room was aswirl with small, sparkly dragons. Six of them flew to one of the pillow covers and held it open as the others darted around the room gathering feathers in their forepaws and dropping them in, then flying off for a new load. Kev was laughing at the sight, and Little Rat gave a small gasp and turned accusingly towards the lady. "I knows who you is. You's dat princess dat Reelya dressed like." Leah chuckled. "That's right, Little Rat. At least, I used to be a princess. Would you like to hear my story?" "Sure," Kev replied, "lotza da good stories has prinsesses in 'em" Leah raised a hand and whispered <>. The room dimmed, leaving a bright spot of light around Leah. Little Rat craned her neck to see where it was coming from, but couldn't. "Magics" she muttered. "Once", Leah started, "long ago in a place very far away, I lived with my family high up in the mountains. My people had at one time been many and powerful, but by the time I was born there were very few of us and we were scattered in small pockets throughout the ranges. We were being hunted by those who had once been our friends. We used to share our knowledge and wisdom with them, but now all they wanted was our treasures. Even that we had shared on occasion, but the Hunters were certain we had much more, and grew greedy. They even became proud of how many of us they could murder. They would drag the bodies into their towns and hold celebrations..." She broke off, her eyes dark, remembering, and shuddered. "It's da same everyplace. Da gangs know you got jangles and dey beat you up an' go party." Little Rat said sympathetically. Kev, sitting at her feet, soberly reached out a small hand and patted her knee. Leah blinked, and smiled down at him. "I'm sorry, now where was I? Oh, yes... "Because our numbers were dwindling, the females were closely guarded. (Why, asked Kev; Cause dey had da babies, dumbnog, said Rat) We couldn't help defend our families, and we were forbidden even to use our magic to help. When I was born, my family rejoiced because there had not been a princess born in ever so long. I grew up loved and spoiled by my parents and brothers, but as I grew older, I became more and more frustrated that I could not help protect my family in any way, nor use the magic that was my birthright. I could feel the very aether flow through my body, but as much as I begged, I was never allowed to learn as much as the smallest cantrip. My family knew that I would want to use my gifts to help defend ourselves against the Hunters. My father told me the greatest gift I could give my people was to bear many young. I knew this was true, but I still chafed. One day, a stranger came to our stronghold. At first it was feared she was a Hunter, but they had never allowed their females to be Hunters before. She also had no weaponry, and when approached by our scouts, actually greeted them in our ancient tongue, which had been forgotten by the Hunters long ago. It was soon clear that she did not come from the Hunters. She stayed with us for many years, becoming my father's trusted advisor and my dear friend. She gave us two great gifts. She helped us to get in contact with the rest of our scattered people, and because of that, helped me to meet a Prince." "Prince Charming?" asked Kev. "Well, to me he was", smiled Leah. "My father declared that no man had ever done as great a deed for our people. We held a grand ceremony. My bethrothal to the Prince was announced, and my father made my friend an honorary member of our family, enobling her with the Golden Wing. All my people came from far and near to view this, as it had never been presented to an outsider in all our long history. Because of the gathering of our people, my father decided to have the wedding ceremony right away. Soon afterwards, my friend announced she had to leave us, and she took me aside for a private farewell. 'I would love to see you happily married with your children around you, but I've already stayed so long', she told me. 'I wish you many years of peace and joy, but please remember, if you ever need me, just say my name, and I will come.' "I did have peace, and joy, and also children, but it was all too short." "Usually is" whispered Little Rat to Kev. Leah only sighed and riffled Rat's hair. "Remember the Hunters? My friend had given us information about them that helped us keep safe for a long time, but it was clear that there were many more of them than of my people. At first it was small fights and skirmishes, but then they happened more and more frequently, until finally the Hunters formed armies bent on wiping us out, and there had never been enough of our people to hold off against an army. It became so bad that it was decided to put all the females and young into one safe, defensible place. Unfortunately it was too little, too late. The last days of my people finally came." "One by one the males fell, my brothers, my husband, and even my father who was ancient and most powerful. The hunters then easily broached our last stronghold and began their last, bloody deeds. Many of the females were old and feeble, no great challenge for these mighty Hunters. Finally there was just my children and myself left. My babies were young, so young. I was held back and had to watch them being clubbed, the Hunter's coarse laughter drowning out their cries. "Everyone and everything I had ever loved had been killed, and there were only the Hunters and me. They chained me and beat me, demanding to know where our treasures were. I tried to fight, but I had never been trained how. My father, my brothers and my husband had promised to defend me always. I couldn't even call upon the Flame, which had been the primary defence of our people, because I had never been taught. I fought with my body, but there were so many of them, so many... "I was not a great enough challenge for them, so the Hunters finally abandoned me for their treasure hunt. It was hard for me to breathe, harder for me to think, but then I had remembered another promise made to me, and I called my friend's name. Several heartbeats passed, but just before I had lost all hope, a great silvery light shone out. I could hear the despairing, frightened cries of the Hunters as if from far away, but then I saw the dear face of my friend. "I can help you,' she said, stroking my neck,' if you want it. Will you come with me?' "Yesss," I sighed, "there is nothing here for me now." There was a long pause, and the childred stirred restlessly. "What happened den?" demanded Little Rat. "Where'd ja go?" Kev just hugged his stuffed dragon fiercely. Leah raised her head and smiled at them, her eyes lightening to grey. "Why, she took me to where she lived. She healed me, and taught me the magiks and defences that my family did not." "But weren't you mad at 'em, fer not teachin' ya?" asked the Rat. "Yes and no, Little Rat. They were doing what they thought would best save our people, but if females knew these things, we might have held out longer. I think we were doomed anyway, unless we could have been friends with the Hunters, but they did not want us for friends." "Are ya still sad?" Kev asked softly. Leah rose and gave Kev a great hug, "I was, little one, for a long time, but my friend has given me so much." The dragonets had long ago finished re-stuffing the pillows and were perched sleepily aroung the room. As she rose to go they flew out the door, all except the littlest one which had fallen asleep in Rat's lap. Leah picked it up gently and stroked it as she turned to go. "Leah?" "Yes, Kev" "Did you have many children?" "Oh, yes, Kev." Leah looked out the door. "and they were swift and beautiful. Goodnight." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: cmeadows@nyx.cs.du.edu (Chris Meadows) Subject: [AU] [HouseStorming] You Can't Keep an Evil Man Down Message-ID: <1993Jul20.172841.7576@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Tue, 20 Jul 93 17:28:41 GMT It was dark in the small room. The only illumination came from a small green sphere, and this illumination was partially blocked by the three or four thin projections that reached up around it. These projections were, in fact, fingers, and the hand they belonged to lifted the sphere shakily up to a face. The face was that of Raykor, the (self-proclaimed) Arch-Mage who was Andrea and Sheryl's nemesis. He looked forty years older, dry and shrivelled and almost dead. His hands trembled as he gazed into the sphere. Raykor had been dealt a serious blow when he'd tried to cast that curse on Andrea. The spell, the most powerful he had ever cast with the possible exception of that first one long ago, fueled by rage, had been turned back upon him by Andrea and her sister-turned-unicorn Sheryl, the result of that first rage-fueled curse so many years ago. How had the restraining magicks of his original curse been removed? By all rights, she should not have been able to use her magical abilities to such a great extent, for the remaining aspects of his curse, the magic weavings that enabled him to see where she was and that bound up most of her powers, should have prevented it. Yet, they had been dissolved only moments before Raykor tried to ensorcell Andrea. And Raykor had even FELT that dissolution, but had taken it to be a side-effect of entering the weakened anti-violence magical field in the Inn. However that curse had been destroyed, it would be worth looking into. Raykor shuddered to remember what it had felt like, in the aftermath of the failed casting (and it took a great deal to make Raykor shudder). He had almost DIED. The spell was a curse, that would have, had it taken hold, transformed Andrea so completely into a unicorn that NOTHING, not the removal of the curse, not ANYTHING AT ALL, would restore her memory and personality. Now, curses such as this, as a rule , had to be custom-tailored to the individual victim. Cast on anyone else, they would have some other effect, or no effect at all. The curse itself had caused no effect to Raykor. But when it had been turned back upon its caster, the sheer amount of magical energy contained within it had overloaded Raykor himself, all but destroying him. Raykor had expected no resistance, and so, like a fool, had not bothered to ground himself so that any magic backwash would pass harmlessly through him instead of causing him physical damage. Raykor had barely managed to teleport back to his hiding place before the overload had taken its full effect. Even then, he would have died had it not been for a most fortuitous accident. An unwary astral traveller had wandered into the house that ight. Her name had been Blaze, and she had been doing a preliminary recon of the house for when she would help Andrea come through and clean it out later. Raykor had reached out and trapped her spirit inside of his own mind, as he had done many times before with other souls to fuel his magic. He had drawn her in and enveloped her, trying to steal her life-force away to empower himself. Blaze, apparently an experienced astral traveller, had taken advantage of his weakened state to escape before he could dissolve her entirely, but still, he had managed to leach some of her strength away, and it was just enough to restructure his body so that the last of the harmful magic overload could leave him, and he managed to stay alive. Raykor gripped his green sphere tightly in his claw-like hand, struggling to sit upright, to climb out of bed. He felt weak . . . tired. But he knew he had to do this. If he stayed like this much longer, he risked being caught unready. He needed to heal himself, check all his traps, and wait for Andrea to come to him. Perhaps the next time he would not fail so easily. When he was at last on his feet, Raykor slowly made his way out of the room, down a darkened corridor. Such a nice hideaway this mansion made. All those traps to prevent any but the most determined from making their entrance through mundane means, and his own abilities more than enough to ensure that he was not magically surprised. He had to stop and rest twice on the way, leaning against the wall until the tremors passed. But at last he made it to the end of the dark passage, and pressed a hidden switch hidden within an ornamental carving to open a secret door. Through this door was the room where Raykor kept one of his greatest magical treasures. It had been taken at a great danger to himself, but it had helped him immensely in the weaving of the curse on Andrea. He entered the room, reaching out for it. It was a twisted spire, perhaps a foot and a half long, of what looked like gleaming silver, and then like ivory when the light shifted. It stood on a small table, within a frame that held it upright. Indeed it was a unicorn's horn, severed from the head that it had previously graced. As Raykor grasped it, it glowed brightly. Not the friendly bluish glow of a unicorn's healing touch, but a more diseased and corrupted greenish light. But Raykor drew on this power, pulled the magic into himself, healing, youthening, driving away the last vestiges of the curdled, twisted curse that had been thrown back upon him. When he at last released the horn, he looked younger, revitalized, stronger. "Yes!" Raykor said aloud. "When you return, Andrea, it will be to your doom. I may not be able to recast the curse I tried to visit upon you, but I will do something equally . . . interesting, you can be sure." He ended the speech with a maniacal laugh that echoed down the twisting corridors beneath the house for a long time. -- Chris Meadows | Robotech/RIFTS/Palladium fanfic author/editor CHM173S@SMSVMA | They Might Be Giants about Star Trek aliens: CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU | "Everybody wants prosthetic foreheads CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU | on their real heads!" MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [NEWCOMERS] Newbies appear just out of town. (long) Date: 20 Jul 1993 20:01:18 GMT Message-ID: <22hiue$ngh@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> Casey knocked on the door of Michael Evans' house. A strange wind whipped through his jacket and caused him to shudder. /I really should be cramming for my final not doing this... But hey I do need to get a grip and this usually helps./ He reached up to knock again and the door opened suddenly. "Why're you in such a hurry? I need to get some sleep. Finals and all." Contrary to his words, Michael is dressed like he was planning to spend the next few weeks in a jungle. He leans a heavy walking staff against the doorway, shrugs on a fuzzy camouflage backpack over a bright blue cloak, and adjusts some other obscure items. Casey gasped. He always considered Michael a strange person, but this was crossing the line. "So I like to have a lot of stuff with me when I work magick. Most of it's unnecessary, but it comes in handy every now and then." Michael flipped the outside light off and stepped outside. "Mind if we take Beau with us?" "I guess not. I was just coming by to ask you for a bit of help. Cindy left me recently." "I'm sorry." Michael looked into Casey's eyes, trying to judge if he should react or how. He hadn't dealt with this often and had yet to learn how others expected him to act. "I think it was because of me. It's almost like there's something pushing people away from me." Casey paused, "I don't think its me though, Its just... well its as if this place is starting to get on my nerves. You know all the weird things that happen here. Well I was hoping you could do something to help?" Michael sighed inwardly. This was something he knew how to react to. "Beau! C'mon, I'm going for a walk." A scurry of claws on linoleum precedes a streak of white fur that makes it out just as the door closes. Michael looks at his bicycle for a moment, thinking about what his friend wants him to look for. /If it's trouble with a spirit, it should be easy. But he doesn't usually have problems with them./ "If you need sleep so bad, how did you happen to be dressed for an invasion when I was going to drop in unannounced and ask for a little magickal help?" Michael began slapping pockets. "keys, disk, quartered circle, darts... seems to be everything. Oh, the gate's been calling me again." He turned to face Casey. "Staff!" Michael reached past his friend to grasp the walking staff. "Give me your details on the way and I'll see what I can do after I deal with the gate. Still can't tell what it wants to show me or have me do until I get through the tunnel guardian, but I'm getting better at guessing." "What-" "Haven't a clue-" "-finals do you have tomorrow?" "-this time. Data Structures. Ever have YiFan?" Michael started walking up the street and Beau ran ahead to the corner of a white fence. "He spends half the class talking about why college is so much harder for the foreign students and giving redundant definitions to every word he uses, then spends another third talking about 'disk sick time' when it has nothing to do with what we're learning. You know what one of the questions was? Is difference Property and Attribute?" "Your dog is running away." "Nah. He knows where we're going. He just hasn't been outside much this week and needs to run. You know, the MUD was crashing again today. I shuffled stuff between my characters as fast as I could and ended up with something like 20 Gold Dwarven Rings and 3 Galactic Claymores and 7 bags of assorted potions. Mostly gold and silver, but I got a few opal and purple ones copied. One of the gods caught someone else doing the same thing and changed the code so that it saves just before it crashes." Casey laughed. "I quit playing that a few weeks ago. I'm on every now and then, but just to socialize or to steal the golden ring from the blacksmith." "I noticed you on once," Michael said, "Sylvaria. You never left the Shire." Beau appeared just at the edge light from a streetlamp and wagged his tail at them and disappeared again. "Zack got StormBringer to 22nd level today. He insists that he'll reach 25th level before he has to leave." Casey fell silent as they both began to hike into the wood line. The night was lit up by brilliant bursts of lightning but oddly enough there was no thunder. The silence continued as they struggled past some thicker vegetation. Soon the vegetation opened up to an old path leading up the side of the hill. Michael waited patiently. Casey would begin to talk when the time was right. Anyway it was a bad thing to talk at this part of the hike. At the crest of the hill as if on cue, Casey began to open up. "You remember the things I mentioned about Cindy right? Well things got a bit weirder last week. We were having a tarot party last Saturday when at the stroke of midnight Cindy was possessed. The weird part was that she wasn't the target, I was. It was like something was using her as a bait to get me to expose myself and fight. The thing they wanted me to do was posses her myself and then they would show her how evil I was. The powerplay continued for over an hour and in the end I beat it out of her but.... " Casey trailed off. "And?" Michael prompted. This was staring to get very interesting. "Well she is very adept with the cards and although probable outcomes of what happened she couldn't get, She figured out what actually happened on her own. She knows what I did and why and well... She doesn't want to deal with it anymore. Can't say that I blame her though." The two had just about reached the edge of an old cemetery. Beau had stopped at the front gate and was sitting waiting for us to lead the way in. Michael unfocused his eyes and tried to see the spirit barriers he had created in front of the gate with his mind. "My gates have been opened again. I really should find the other people who can use this place. I've seen one of them once. Female in a dark-blue dress." They walked through the gate on a paved path striped with dead grass. Dark trees lined the path, casting heavy shadows and leaving only a few patches of light. Michael became very serious. He did not like some of the things the gate asked him to do before, and he didn't like the attention it attracted. Several concepts of shields entered his mind and he lent a portion of energy to each of them. Something felt wrong. No, different. Displaced. Incomplete. But not wrong. Casey followed in silence, but was growing more uneasy. As many times as he had walked along the path which Michael claimed contained the 'tunnel guardian', he had never felt anything unusual. But this time, they were definitely moving. Not quite along time... or any other direction he could recognize. Michael stopped in the largest pool of light and turned to kneel in front of a statue of the Virgin Mary. /I know I don't pray to you as a follower. For some reason, I can only accept Jesus, and in my own way. But you are the only marker that stays the same when the other stones move in this place. You provide a sense of peace every time I enter this place. Be with me wherever the tunnel guardian takes me this time./ "That tombstone wasn't there last time I was here," Casey said, pointing up the path a ways. "I know." Michael didn't even bother to look. It didn't matter if Casey's memory was correct or not. He needed to believe completely in magick right now. If it had been there before, then pointing that out would only cause Casey to question his sight at other times when it was needed quickly. As it was, the quick answer Michael gave was calculated to make Casey think what he saw was a common occurrence and was to be expected. Of course, Casey didn't buy it. He knew Michael too well. They emerged from the trees as the path forked. They took the right hand path as always, walking on the dead grass as often as possible, around to the positive and negative poles of the arch of energy he referred to as his gate. The positive pole was a tall tombstone with a shortened cross on the top. The negative one was a small version of the Washington monument. The clouds hung very low overhead and the lightning continued, without thunder, making dull circles of light. The wind carried a refreshing energy with it, the kind that comes before a large storm. "Think we'll make it home without getting soaked?" Michael asked. "Are you kidding? Of course not." "Well, might as well get this over with." "Got any idea yet what it wants yet?" "No, can't even tell if it wants me to do something or see something. Seems like both. Beau, stay on the path. I'll be right back." Michael carefully walked over to the negative pole, avoiding the places where people were buried. He rested his hands on it carefully and closed his eyes. /Ok, Armitage. I need a translation from you. You speak to this gate better than I do. ... What am I here for?/ Half formed images flashed through Michael's mind. A brief combat, a gray bound book with strange writing, a mug of black liquid, a wall covered in hieroglyphics /I've seen that before I think. One of my Tai Chi dances./ wolf's eyes, a riverbed at sunrise. Then three specific images formed. The drawing of a katana as the storm winds increased. Then the circling of the katana creating a simple version of the Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram. Then raising the katana to the sky as several circles of lightning flashed. Michael backed away, back to the path. "It wants me to do something all right. It gave me the first three steps to a ritual. As soon as I start it, I'll know what it is and how to finish. It's playing on a gift Shadake gave me." Casey looked at Michael as if he was being slow on purpose. "So what's keeping you?" It didn't seem to Michael like the gate wanted him to do anything he wouldn't object to. He just didn't like doing things when he didn't know what results to expect. /Then again, this may be the only chance to do this. Who's thought was that? Does it matter? Right./ Michael shoved his walking staff into Casey's hands. "Hold this." He reached over his shoulder and drew a katana from his backpack. He slid the sheathed katana into his belt and stared at the arch. /Why am I feeling fear? This is what I've been wanting to see for a long time./ He wrestled with his mind, trying to calm it. He could feel the amount of power in the air and knew that the gate wanted him to wield it. He reviewed the names used in the LBRP, forgetting one for a moment, then remembering. He griped the katana hard and felt the leather on the pommel absorbing his sweat. /I'm losing it./ "Attempt impossible things," Michael spoke softly. "Even if you fail, you make more progress than one who did not attempt." "What?" Casey said, then reflexively moved the walking staff between him and the bare katana blade. The winds increased to twice their speed, obeying Michael's will like they hadn't in seven years as he approached the arch. He swung the sword in a circle, vibrating names and visualizing flaming blue pentagrams and the garb of various angels. "*Yud-Heh-Vahv-Heh* *Rafael*, *Ah-Doh-Nye* *Michael*, *Eh-Heh-Yeh* *Gabriel*, *Ah-Glah* *Auriel*." The power in the air increased five-fold as the circle closed. He sensed that the names were almost inconsequential, but felt somewhat better for saying them. He lifted the katana to point at the sky and three pops of lightning flashed, each one doubling the power in the air. Michael's mind filled with the image of him carving a symbol in the air between the poles and a name sprang to mind. "*AZIPIAZU* Terlosh Intuit!" The quick slices of his katana were punctuated by another pop of lightning and the power in the air doubled again. Michael began reacting instantly to what he saw. "*TYMORA* Nuratha Wahr Yosh!" he carved at the positive pole. "*XYVV* Keraka Lushan!" he carved at the negative pole. "Rin Likost, Muleen Forinsh! *THAGRASH tan FERESHA*!" Lightning popped again, and for a brief moment the arch of energy between the poles became visible as a sheet of pale blue. Casey looked at the gate and then back at Michael. /Something just ain't right with this./ Spreading his awareness out Casey closed his eyes and reached out to the gate. He had helped Michael take control of this place and it was like an old friend. Temperamental maybe, a little child like, but friendly. The ritual continued and Casey felt the play of energy through the earth and around the gates poles. /What's this bubble here?/ Casey thought. /This ain't right./ Michael threw his katana into the ground and backed up again. Casey swayed with the energy and continued to feel the bubble build. A new energy entered the area, it was knife-like cleaving through the fields towards the bubble. It struck, the bubble burst. Casey staggered with the new energy and opened his eyes to see the katana shaking in the ground. "What the Fuck was that all about?!" Michael yelled at the arch. "What's wrong?" Casey asked. Michael whirled to face Casey with wide eyes and clenched fists. "I don't like being controlled." he flared. /I did walk into it of my own accord./ He turned back to the arch and pointed accusingly at it. "I don't care! Don't you _ever_ do that to me again. Explain now why I shouldn't dismantle you." He glared at the arch, trying to make it feel his anger. A voice sighed inside of him. /Why don't I try walking through?/ He continued glaring, unable to think of any response except, /I don't know where it leads./ Part of Michael's discussion of with the gate go through to Casey. //Why ... try walking though?//,//... Know ... Leads// /Humph. If that's all he's mad about.../ Casey shrugged. He didn't have the faintest clue what Michael just did, except the part about the shorthand LBRP. His instincts said that the gate was meant to be walked through. So he walked through it, expecting to see anything from an alien landscape to a haven of spirits. Nothing particularly interesting happened. /Figures. Lots of energy and lots of show frequently are just covering for tiny effects./ He turned to look at his friend and said, "Well? What's keeping you?" Slowly, Michael's anger burned itself out. Still it might not be all that safe though, Casey did have a habit of walking through other peoples spells as if they didn't exist. "Well. I guess I'd better walk through and see what's there." He picked up his katana and walked through, gesturing for Beau to follow. Once they were through, he turned back to the arch and said, "Is that all gate?" In response, the energy flow between the poles stopped. "Well, that was a good waste of strangeness. At least it didn't start raining," Casey said as they worked their way back to the tunnel guardian. He walked much less jerkily as he did not share his friends qualms of stepping on the dead. "Thanks." /Hey Armitage. Why does the gate ask me to do silly things like that? I think it might have been answering a request I made a few weeks ago. Oh yea... I keep forgetting that it has a constant link to me./ "So, come up with any ways to help me yet?" "Well, I could only classify it as a spirit problem if you want me to tackle the guy who was trying to possess you, but I think that's your job not mine. Still haven't found out how your luck works like it does, so I can't lay any probability fields on you with any hope of them working. Maybe if you started removing some of the dormant things in you that you don't use-" Casey stopped walking. "Um, Fido? I don't think we're in Midgaard anymore." "Huh?" Michael looked up to see an intersection just outside of the physical gate to the cemetery. The forest was noticeably thinner now. Down the hill a city stood. The city was much bigger that the small college town but surprisingly enough not as tall. It was if the city spread out instead of up. A black streak flashed by. Michael nearly jumped out of his skin. /I'm jumping at everything now. Definitely losing it./ Michael stared at the black streak and nodded. "Casey did your spirit panther come too?" "Where?" Casey swiveled to look at the gate. Michael laughed. "You know you really should work on being able to see the things you create." Michael exclaimed. "Yeah well so I'm blind, big deal." Casey closed his eyes and reached out. In the back of his mind he heard a faint voice *I'm here*. "Yeah well it seams he did come." Michael continued to watch the panther run down the hill. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] Traveling. Message-ID: <1993Jul20.204115.15920@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> References: <1993Jul19.045202.17880@midway.uchicago.edu> Date: Tue, 20 Jul 93 20:41:15 GMT "Orluccar: The religious center of Rameshan, and the seat of the Oacularity of the Temple of Ashes. The Oracle at the temple, according to legend, is a four thousand year old woman." --The Atlas of the Known Lands There is a definite aura to Orluccar, not necissarily in the magic sense (though there's definitely one of them as well) but in the more mundane sense that later generations on a different world would call "zietgiest." In a nutshell, everyone in Orluccar was pious. Greeting a stranger on the street was likely to entail a reference to at least two gods, and any sort of business transaction had a 30% chance of involving the sacrifice of a furry animal. The archetecture was a modified version of that seen in Pashar, the windows being vaulted instead of square and the ubiquitous spires of Pashar were replaced with temples. Cardinal Xar's men were out in force, though Palandun saw no sign of the Cardinal himself. Strangely, in close association with Xar's demonstraters were demonstrators for the Society of Gentlemen Apothecaries. Palandun asked one of the SGA's if the two societies were working together. " Hardly. Xar's misguided legions are trying to supress the use of magic, while we quite rightly defend it. How about yourself? Do you support goodness and decency, or do you fall in with those perverted discples of innacurate religion?" Palandun replied that he was a foreigner, and felt it better to stay out of Rameshan's internal strife, however, he had not heard so many value adjectives crammed into a smaller space since the last time a Factionalist had gone to speak at the town hall in It-Atta. Yes, that was a compliment, of sorts. Acting on the advice of the woman he bought lunch from (who was pretty adamant on the point) Palandun payed his three sheckels and managed to avoid sacrificing a cow to take the tour of the temple of ashes. His little joke about the god ashes flopped miserably, and he resolved to shut up for the rest of the tour. Palandun heard a lot of useless facts about temple architecture and history, and on the whole spaced it, except when the tour group stopped by in the chamber of the Oracle. She stood up, walked over to Palandun, and said: "You will be the Carrot." "Gee, thanks." Palandun replied. "It's better than being the Stick." She replied. Palandun was inclined to wonder how she judged these things. The rest of the tour, including the guide, was very impressed that the Oracle had actually taken the time out to give *him* his fortune, and several of them asked him fir his autograph. The Priests were more than a little pissed, and tried to extort a large sum of money post facto for his "consultation with the oracle." Palandun was disurbed, as he really didn't want to become a carrot, or any other vegetable for that matter. The whole thing reminded him of a recurring nightmare of his. There were fewer foodstuffs invoved in securing a berth in the convoy to Alamatar, and they set off the next day, to the sacrifice of two camels. He travelled in a large cart with a silk merchant, a concubine who's lover was coming in on the next Silk Road Convoy, a knight (the two of them had long debates about the relative merit of Heavy Cav versus Carted Inf), and his girlfriend, a spoiled princess of one of the itty bitty countries in the Great Heath. By dinner on the first day the Concubine was annoyed with the princess, by breakfast the next day Palandun was, and the Silk merchant only managed to hold out till lunch. On the fifth day the three of them were idly plotting and, on the eighth day, when the Convoy leader announced that they were officially lost, it was only with drawn sword that Palandun managed to stop the other two. When they finally arrived the concubine and the silk merchant immediately went to the temple of United to offer thanks. Palandun rented a camel and rode out to the diggings. There he found 1) A big hole in the ground. 2) A lot of tents. 3) No sign of any people. He had, in fact, expected this, and rode back to aquire some supplies. Armed with light-gem, among other things, Palandun dropped into the hole and looked around, finally deciding to follow the smoke-marks on the ceiling. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: clayton@austin.ibm.com (Clayton Colwell) Subject: [ex-TW] Flashback Message-ID: Date: Tue, 20 Jul 1993 23:27:22 GMT [ADMIN: At this point, Eski is locked in a catatonic state, remembering horrors that had been somehow blocked from his memory before.] "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*." Its ire died in diminishing echoes as its scaly body slithered away. The dragon's harsh words echoed in Eski's ears as he toiled in the darkness, color and light having been stolen from him by the acidic wash of the dragon's spittle splashed across his eyes. He shuddered as his burnt hands continued to mop up the acid and blood from the battle, using scraps of torn clothing he found as he clumsily felt about the crystalline floor of the cavern. As he encountered bone or backpack or armor, he piled them in a haphazard stack, never losing memory in his mind of the spot the dragon had indicated with the toss of the plate armor. He whimpered as he worked, travelling in a small spiral, careful not to miss anything. When he finished, he took some thin string from a pouch still attached to his belt. He tied it to the largest piece of armor he could feel in the pile, then scrambled over the floor in the direction of the armor tossed by the dragon. He fumbled about, keeping the string taut behind him. After some time, his foot dashed against the metal of the plate armor -- and the string went slack behind him. Horrified, he heard the sinister chuckling of the beast. In a voice like rolling gravel, it whispered, "I can't make it *that* easy for you." A scorching drop of saliva struck Eski's cheek. He sprang backward, entangling himself in the discarded plate, its fragments scraping the crystal. He crouched, huddled in a ball. A sharp dripping poniard hooked itself in Eski's robe and pulled him to his feet. The acrid breath of the beast wove around him. "Do what I say, gnome, without complaint, without question, without delay, and I may let you die someday. Thwart me and I will allow you to live in such fashion as would make the *demons* quail." The poniard tipped, and Eski fell back to the ground in a huddle, holding back a cry as he twisted an ankle beneath him. "Now finish your task, and I'll provide you with some...food." The gravel shifted to the rattling of small bearings as the bulk of the beast shifted further down the cavern. Eski's sharp ears could discern echoes indicating a smaller passage opening into the cavern. Still, he whimpered as he scrabbled across the floor, seeking the gory pile he'd left, so that he could drag it to the refuse pile the dragon desired. -------------------------------------- Thus began an interminable time for Eski. The dragon was cruel, sadistic, and vicious. Eski's body bore ugly scars from the acid-tipped blows received from sharp claws or dripping fangs. The dragon also knew a bit of magic, which it used to make Eski's food palatable...for a brief time: it would soon drop the illusion, and Eski would be horrified to find that he'd been eating rotten flesh or slimy funguses. The dragon was shrewd enough, though, to ensure he had enough to live by. It was a wretched existence, but he survived. He lay many times cowering in the passage to the crystal cavern, hearing the screams of other adventurers waylaid to the creature's lair. The cavern was a trap, warping transportation magicks, sucking the lines into itself. Many were the bones collected by Eski for the dragon in return for life, or the pitiful excuse he had to endure. The dragon's illusions also tormented him, so that, after a time, Eski was reduced to little more than a quivering lump, barely sentient, silently weeping in his darkness, surrounded by copper pieces and torches, "gifts" from the dragon in payment for the entertainment he provided it. -------------------------------------- He lay in his nest of metal, again weeping silently -- his eyes had no way to shed tears, miserable. The Beast has used him cruelly for his last suicide attempt. Eski's hands were raw, skinless, burned and studded with the crystal splinters the Beast had made him grind into his bleeding palms. Through the pain and anguish, he heard the pop and rush of displaced air. He howled in his mind: more deaths! More food for the Beast! He faintly heard their gasps of awe and wonderment -- more nails in his heart! He screamed inwardly as he heard the soft slither of the Beast creeping toward the unsuspecting party. He then heard a voice. His own. Curious. He felt his mouth. It wasn't moving. He listened, and the voice continued, exclaiming on the beauty of the cavern's structure. The slither quickened, and a sickening chuckle, like the trickling of sharp-edged pebbles, hit Eski's ears. As the awe turned to gasps of surprise (the Beast liked to douse the light sources before striking), *Eski* awoke. "Yuhyn? My brother? No. No. Noooooooooooooooooooooo!" A small piece of his brain gibbered that it couldn't be true, that the Beast was playing with him even more viciously than before. The rest of him dredged up a spell, a spell he'd been saving. It was a little thing, more for distraction than for power, for Eski still knew so little. That didn't matter now. Eski scrabbled up to his feet, his fingers moving, rustily, painfully, yet surely through the motions of the spell. The crystal near him began to hum. The crystal in his palms began to warm. He didn't care. He made the last pass, and a splash of rainbow lit the passage, lit the cavern. He heard the dragon grunt, like 2 boulders clashing, and felt dimly a tail dash him off his feet. As he sailed through the air, he smiled. Death was welcome. As the air whistled, and he hurtled toward a deeper darkness, as he felt his body smash into the crystal wall, he heard his voice. "Eski?!!" He heard no more. -- 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. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [Spinoff] Pilot episode. Message-ID: <1993Jul21.102807.20277@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Wed, 21 Jul 93 10:28:07 GMT ADMIN: CALL FOR CO-AUTHORS. That means _You_. Will be willing to travel and pick you up. Other stuff: Expect updates for the Character Sumaries list, Directory, and Synopsis list in about a week, assuming I decide to fly with this. Begin semantic content: The convoy was eight days out of Orluccar. Specifically, eight days, five hours, and fourty minutes. The carriage had just pulled into it's camping place and the trail boss was coming around, doubtless to check up on the five occupants. "What can I do for you?" Palandun Lintesul, a young man from some island chain out on the great blue, asked the trail boss. "Nuthin." The boss answered, "I just came to tell yous that we're lost. Good-night." For three whole heartbeats nobody said anything, allowing the trail boss to start his escape. Then everybody in the cart started yammering. "What do you mean, lost? Hey, come back here!" Four of the carts passengers said, while the fifth one uttered "Rayeee! Get us unlost, now!" The trail boss was retrieved and established some facts. 1) They were eight days out of Orluccar with food for twenty if need be. 2) They weren't exactly sure where they were. 3) They'd sit here a spell until they figured it out. This time the T.B. really left and the inhabitants began to talk in two different groups. "That mean's we'll be stuck together for three extra days." Valasha, a concubine of one of the Silk Road Merchants, said. "Puddin?" Sir Rayon, graduate of saint Cuthbert's academy, adressed his seatmate, "We're going to have to stay here another couple days." "Three days with her." Sharn, a silk merchant from Orluccar replied to Valasha. "Shhh." Palandun said. "That's impolite." "Here? Days? With Them!?" Princess Lycra of Underhaven, to Sir Rayon. "They're dull and oaffish!" "Now puddin, that's not nice." Rayon. "Yeah, puddin," Valasha, "You'd better be nice to us, or we're going to, what was it, Sharn?" "Bury her in an anthill." Sharn volunteered his favorite. Lycra immediately set to whining. Rayon protested. "Ray's right, we can't do anything of the sort." Palandun said, "besides, there are no ants here." "Then we can sunbake her and eat her after a day or two." Sharn. "You guys are mean." Lycra, "Rayee, beat them up." "But puddin...." "I mean it! Now draw your sword or you don't get a kiss." There was a strangely harmonious metallic sound as Rayon drew his blade. He waved it threateningly and made grunting noises until Lycra commanded that she wanted blood spilt or else. Ray shrugged his shoulders and started to take a whack at Sharn. Palandun, ever the hero, had drawn his own sword and whacked the blade off rayon's. He stood with the edge pressed against ray's throat. "I'll never understand why you listen to her." He said. "Lyrca, Look out!" Rayon said. Animatedly pointing at... Sharn, holding Rayon's blade rather gingerly and advancing on Lycra. Palandun spun, chopped another six inches off the blade, and pressed his sword up to Sharn's throat. "Sit down." he growled. "Everyone." He gathered up the shards of the sword and pitched them out the window. "From now on, everyone is nice to everyone else, or they start losing appendeges. That means you, you, you, and especially you." He came close to whacking the nose off each one in turn, ending with Princess Lycra. "I always treat people the way their station has borne them." "Princess, where I come from" here everybody rolled their eyes at having to hear one of Palandun's haughty pronouncements on Bismania's virtues. "there is no 'Station' and everyone gets along just fine. It's the people not the title." "Tell my father that." She mumbled. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Erik and Lex: Cooking Message-ID: References: <93200.082546ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Date: Tue, 20 Jul 1993 23:56:27 GMT [ADMIN] Have you guys ever wondered why it is that 'Raelf always has his best conversations while cooking? I don't get it. This is me and Dreamer tag-team writing again. -0-- A battle to save the universe (or at least the local bits) and a nice walk on the beach have a way of making a people hungry. Erik and Lex returned to ShadeHaven to find Luthor and Serene sound asleep in the drawing room. "Lex, what do you want for dinner? I'm going to fix something for us and the others since Luthor's out," Erik called quietly from the kitchen. "Yeah, how 'bout tacos? The surf made me hungry for mexican." Lex joined Erik in the kitchen. "I've never heard of 'tacos' or 'mexican'. Is this Earth food?" Erik looked slightly confused. "Yep. I practically lived on mexican stuff when I was in the beachhouse." "Show me then. I have to warn you though, my cooking skills are nothing compared to Luthor's." "No problem, tacos are easy." Lex crouched down and began looking for a large frying pan beneath the kitchen shelves. Erik grabbed two polished stones inscribed with fire runes and set them next to each other on a metal cooking plate. A few moments later, the plate began giving off a deep red glow. Lex put a large black cast iron pan on the plate. "Now, all we need is some hamburger, corn flour, and some veggies." Lex began walking to the pantry. Erik stepped in his path. "Lex, before you go in there, I need to know the exact ingredients." Lex's knowldge-curse went off revealing Erik's intentions, "Oh, I see. well, hamburger is ground beef. Corn flour is common enough. We also need onions, tomatoes, pepper, vinegar, garlic, and jalapeno peppers." Lex turned his back and let Erik go into the pantry alone. A moment later, Lex heard the strange resonance of ShadowMagic, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Erik returned from the pantry with an armful of the necessary ingredients. Lex smiled, "How about that, you just happened to have everything that we needed. How, er, improbable. What's the odds, Erik?" Erik turned to see that Lex was teasing him. "One, it already happened. And next time, try to turn your attentions elsewhere. Hanging around with someone who knows just about everything makes the Shadows harder to work." "Be cool, dude. I was around Luthor enough to know about how you ShadowGuys cheat on things." Lex winked at the ShadowMage, and prepared to duck. "I knew that the stuff wasn't necessarily in there, but it COULD be." Lex winked at the ShadowMage and then shifted aside so that a ripe tomato barely missed splattering on his blond head. After a bout of laughter and the wanton destruction of a dozen tomatoes, they settled into cooking dinner. Erik watched as Lex made a ball of wet corn flour, and left it to "rest" while he seasoned and cooked the ground beef in the pan and prepared a seperate pot of chopped vegetables that he dubbed "salsa". As they worked, Erik found a chance to ask some questions that had ignited his curiosity. "Now that you're seperate from 'Raelf, where are you going to stay?" "Too bad I didn't think of this, before," Lex said, skinning and chopping up a cucumber, then reaching without looking into the coldbox and coming out with a small pot of yogurt. "Think I'll make up a Raita, too. I need some cool to take down the fire a little." He grinned at Erik's suppressed expression of dismay, and replied. "That's a loaded question, dude. I've got my place at the lighthouse and I'm still gonna be livin' there. I still have to keep up my part of the family business, watch the kids, that sort of thing..." Lex shrugged and started sniffing various bottles of spice. "If I didn't know you had a place here, I'd invite you to move in with me, though. Trouble is, your kind of work could throw off the warp field generators and that's not a good idea, in a house where most of the space is imaginary." Erik wondered if he should ask, and changed the subject. "You have kids? I thought you said you couldn't do that here." "Sort of. We're taking care of a young street kid, she calls herself Little Rat. Kid's been an orphan all her life, lived on the streets as long as she remembers. It's been interesting to get her turned around. She was headed on a no-way path, but it seems better now. And then there's my other timebrother, Kev. Kev was a Low Town kid, his folks murdered him. Attempted sacrifice to the first of the batch of evil gods that the ReaversChild made, but I ate him before the thing could suck him up. Anyway, Kev is in kind of the same situation I'm in. Somewhat different curse. Anyway he can't change forms very easily, and 'Raelf can't remerge him." "Re-merge? You mean, you're going to ... disappear? Stop being a separate person?" "I hope so," Lex said with an ache in his voice. "It's a little bit like having your soul torn open. 'Raelf and I, we can be one person again for maybe ten, fifteen seconds, then it falls apart. I hate it. Same for Kev, and for 'Raf it's even worse. I can merge to 'Raf, and Raye can, but 'Raelf can't handle it. The polarities are all wrong." "Wow. So, you're telling me that I'm falling in love with a whole bunch of different people." "Kind of. You're not in love yet, you know. There's a strong attraction, about half physical, but the rest is infatuation. I really like that stage in a relationship, by the way. It's so much fun finding out about all the good things in a person, ignoring any flaws and weaknesses. Makes me feel like a cub again." Erik returned the 'kan mage's shy grin with a smile of his own. "I realize that this is going to be a hard question to answer, but how old are you?" "Not hard at all. I'm two hundred eighty four years old. 'Raelf is two hundred seventy four, but we'll equalize that when we finally remerge. I've been part of 'Raelf for ... oh, about forty years, give or take my extra ten years. But then, there are some parts of me, as 'Raelf that is, memories and persona-elements, that are _much_ older. This is gonna be confusing. I'll refer to `me' and I mean 'Raelf, or I mean Dave, er, Lex. Ask if you're not sure which I'm talking about." Lex removed the cooked meat from the stove, adding some seasoning, then offered a taste to Erik, who approved. He covered it and handed the ball of dough to Erik. "Make this into balls about a thumb-length across, please." He watched the first one, nodded approvingly, and continued, "My oldest relative is the first of my line. He was born out of the chaos that happened when my home corner of the multiverse clotted out of the random collision of the archetypes, and a large part of my identity, who I am, comes from him. Memories, though, we tend to put aside when they get too much to bear. I could remember everything that they've passed on to me, and everything that ever happened to me, but it would take me, oh, almost the same amount of time it took for all the things I remember to happen. Weird, huh?" Lex stirred the cucumber-yogurt thing he was making, and added some spices. "I guess *you* won't have a problem with my age then. Many people are bothered by my apparent immortality." Lex grinned. "I can see how some people might be bothered, but I don't have any problem. You're still going to die some day, just like I am, eventually. But that's a ways off, and neither of us knows when it's gonna happen. Thanks for small favors. So it must just be the lasting youth thing, which ..." "I don't understand it either. I guess they're just jealous. But it was that human jealousy that drove me to seek out the Golden Elves. If they stay in their home forest, they can live many millenia, so my unaging state seemed normal to them. That's how I met Luthor." Erik grinned at the irony of the situation. "Well," Lex laughed, pouring two glasses of citrus juice, "There's considerable effort expended by people who want to get that. Case in point one Acting Supreme ArchMage." He waited quietly and Erik spoke. "It's really not that difficult of a thing to do. When I was studying ShadowMagery, I used to fear death...I almost died when I was very young. Anyway, I got in the habit of waking up and saying, *I could look as young today as I did yesterday* (with the Shadows behind it, of course). The strange thing about ShadowMagery is that it takes the path of highest probability. After decades, it became more probable that I was ageless than just coincidentally unaging, so there you have it. I don't even have to say anything in the morning anymore." "Huh. I guess there's some similarities. I don't age because I don't want to, and I rebuild myself every few seconds the way I want to be, but then, I could be old if I wanted, so it doesn't count. Which reminds me, when I put Luthor back together he didn't really want me to fix the aging -- Does he do something like what you do?" "Luthor? No, he never took that route. He didn't study the sphere of time until very recently, besides, he does want to die eventually so he can rejoin his wife and son. Lex, you should have seen them together, their happiness was contageous. When Joshua was born, it completed their existence." "Oh yeah. I know how that goes. When Raye and I had our first kids together it was just ... Well, it was worth being separated. You never heard that one, did you? We had one of those stupid Montague and Capulet family feud things. Her family and my family wanted the same business, the same specialty. In the Traveller's college, all feuds, all outside debts, were suspended. So when I met ar'Elya at a party, we had to be polite and talk to each other. Kind of a shock to find that we really liked each other. Had some classes, we even went on our first partner travel together. We just meshed. So when it was time to graduate, we couldn't see getting caught in the feud again. Besides, it was out of hand by that time. My sire had been injured, her grandmere was almost out of pocket. We had to stop it before things got to the point where the Justiciar could step in." "We registered a mate bond, which wasn't legal for members of feuding family, and we created a pair of children, blending our two elemental suites. I protected her child, and she protected mine -- we have to get away from our children, until they can stay coherent by themselves, it's a tradition from when we first learned to reproduce, and found ourselves eating our own children." Lex smiled reminiscently, and Erik felt a strange chill run down his spine. "Her child was so beautiful. Had my shape, the catman form, but completely silver. Reflective. He was really smart too." Lex spilled a little water onto the heat-rock and steam rose. He shaped the steam with his fingers, presenting an image of two fierce looking humanoids, shining like they were poured out of light. "That's what they looked like. My child had the spirit of the first sentient I had ever consumed, hers was the same. That broke another law, by the way; it turns out that the Omnivores had snuck in some new laws about starting new clans, and what we did was the old ritual for creating a new clan. We were supposed to pay the price for the clan creation up front. Used to be that a new clan could amortize the price over the first century of their existance, and we knew that the contested business would pay off inside a decade." Erik raised an eyebrow. "So you have lawyers and accountants?" "Yeah, we have lawyers. They're one of the archetypes, unfortunately." Lex started rolling out corn tortillas, then laying them one by one on the hot rock to cook. "Well, the Justiciar was called in. Declared the feud ended, the new clan got the business like we had planned. But we hadn't paid up front. Justiciar was a friend of ours, one of the Ascetic caste, an admired teacher and one of my role models. Decided that because the new clan rule was punitive, that the Omnivores didn't _have_ clans, so it was overturned. That left us with the original rule from the dawn of time. We were ordered to never see each other again -- in the old phrasing, until we were rejoined by death. That was the old way to pay clan-price for a new clan." "So, why are 'Raelf and ar'Elya back together?" "We died. How else? Even in a non-magical world, people can be brought back after death sometimes. It's pretty hard for my folk, because we're so strongly tied to Life. When we're tired of living, we split into other selves, or share ourselves out to others. Actual death, the dissipation of our identity core, that isn't something we expect to happen." Erik thought about what he'd heard, tonight, and earlier by way of rumor and overheard gossip. "Lex, now I don't want you to think that I'm getting too serious too quickly here, but can we have children? I mean I never even considered it before because men are not usually compatible with each other, but then again, you are a shape shifter, and definitely not a species anything close to mine. I just thought I'd ask." Lex shook his head, pulling his fingers through his hair. "Wow." He looked close into Erik's eyes. "Do you _want_ to have children?" Before Erik could answer, Lex hurried to speak. "Well, it's possible. I can't be a female human, not long enough for a child to grow and survive. But, yes, we could have a child. You could even _become_ my child if you wanted." Erik frowned, closing his eyes, then opened them again. That was a very strange thought. "How does your process of reproduction work anyway? I think you made some mention of 'budding'." "When we've collected enough excess personality, enough archetypal mass that we can't remain stable, or when we've eaten someone who's not compatible enough to merge completely. We sort of bud off, or split, or sometimes we mix together in groups and contribute jointly to the new offspring. At least, that's how the Hunter caste work. The Ascetics only bud off, usually, and the Omnivores seem to think it's great fun coming up with new weird ways to breed. Oh yeah, as a human, if I was to spend, say, a week in focus so that I could form fertile sperm, I could be a father, but it's really draining." "Just as well," Erik replied. "I'm not all that interested in becoming a female. How does the other bit work, I could _become_ your child?" "If and only if you were about to die naturally, I could, if you were willing, consume you and eventually bud you off as one of my family, or if you wanted, add in other 'kan persona matrices. Otherwise, if you can handle deep spirit-meld, then we might be able to merge long enough to form a bud. But in either case, my offspring have to be made in my home plane, or they die." "Oh." Erik envisioned an elemental falling into pieces and scowled. "Yeah, it's a drag. That's one of the reasons I need to re-merge, even if it's only a few seconds every few days. It keeps us from becoming separate people, keeps paradox from tearing me apart too." Lex added some of the salsa to the pan with the browned meat, and started to stir it while he spoke. "Part of taking things slow, is that I really want to be with you tonight. But I think we better hold off on that side of things, until you've really adjusted, and until I get the chance to mix it up with my time-brother. Got any plates here?" Erik pulled some plates down from a cupboard, feeling his heart pounding hard. Yes, maybe it _would_ be a good idea to take things slowly. Being eaten. Brr. The 'kan began laying the browned tortillas out on plates for the two of them and for the household staff. Meat joined with the shredded lettuce and the cheese, and then salsa on top. Erik was surprised to see an extra plate. "Serene will be waking up in half an hour, half-starving. And Luthor will be awake in about ten minutes, which means I need to dish up that raita for him." He emptied half the bowl of the cucumber with the yogurt sauce into a serving bowl, and pulled a grey crystalline sphere from nowhere, dropping it onto the bowl. It popped like a bubble, and the bowl was surrounded by a grey haze. "Stasis. Keeps it at the right temp. Wanna help me take this stuff down to the rest of the staff?" "Sure." Erik leaned over and gave Lex a quick kiss on the cheek. Lex jumped, and laughed. "Erik, I like being around you. Lately I can tell what everyone is going to say and do before it happens, but with you it's a lot more fun. Sometimes you catch me completely off guard." Erik blushed. "Thanks, I suppose. It's a side effect of working with chaos for a few centuries. I've become impulsive. It has it's downside because I get distracted easily and go off on a tangent on a whim." Erik noticed that the tray of tacoes was ready, and that the remaining salsa was bubbling over the heat with the rest of the yogurt. He inhaled deeply, "Wow, that smells great...is it supposed to be that color?" Lex looked over at the stove. "Yeah, the yellow comes from some flower pistil shreds. That's a spice that sells for hundreds of times its weight in gold in some places, by the way." "Flower pistils? No wonder. Hey, are we just going to leave it sitting there?" "It'll be ready when Luthor comes in." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [Spinoff] Pilot episode, Part II. Message-ID: <1993Jul21.214010.5451@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> References: <1993Jul21.102807.20277@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Wed, 21 Jul 93 21:40:10 GMT In Alamatar Valasha and Sharn immediately sprinted for one of the temples, and Palandun only stuck around for a brief goodbye before heading off on his little quest. "I'm not sure you really want to do this." He said to Rayon. "Lycra is my one true love." Rayon replied. Palandun darted a glance at her, then furrowed his brow again. "One of these days I really should figure you two out. She doesn't seem real good for you." "I'd die without her." This statement brough a 'don't gimme that' look from the Bismanian. "Palandun, you obviously don't understand, and I can't explain it in words, maybe you should go back to Orluccar and see the oracle." "No thanks. I remember the last time." Rayon thought back, Palandun had told the story, something about carrots. He shrugged. "Well, I gotta go." Palandun said, "Good luck and fare well, wherever you fare." With that he jogged off to find a camel rental place. Lycra came up to Rayon, "He's off on his wild goose chase, then." She said. "Yes." The laconic reply. This got Rayon a peck on the cheek. "C'mon, lets find the hotel, I'm dying for a bath." They did, and Lycra, then Rayon bathed. Then they discussed their future. Three months ago in Underhaven, the king had discovered something the two of them had kept secret for years, they were deeply, passionatly in love, and wanted to get married. The king, of course, promplty said "No." A princess should marry a prince, he decreed, and not some paladin from across the mystys. The two of them had scoured the Great Heath, but there were no openings for a prince, and had decided to cross Parahan and get to Rameshan, where it was said the ruler had no heir. They found out the Shaheran was fourteen years old in Orluccar, and abandoned that idea. Lycra, acting on a whim "Feminine intuition" she called it, had booked them in the convoy to Alamatar. A situation which left them stuck with the Rezzian desert between them and anywhere. "Now where to?" A long debate ensued, and finally they decided, Dansushar, where they would sweep up the west coast and then decide again at Magira if nothing panned out. Passage was booked on the next convoy out, based on a promise to behave from both of them. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: spider@zk3.dec.com (Spider Boardman) Subject: [Jac] A-hunting we will go.... Message-ID: References: Date: Wed, 21 Jul 1993 22:26:22 GMT + Windrunner took off, and the group disappeared in a bright flash as the + archway was consumed by the magic that sent them on their way. Leaping through the archway, blinded by a flash of light. A feeling of falling, then of being buoyed up. A tingling all over, inside and out. A crawling sensation in the mind, and words feel different when forming. A feeling of being held, suspended between two heartbeats, a fixed in point in eternity as all of space and time wheel and shift about. A sudden release, and with a rush of renewed energy the leap continued unabated. The brightness disappeared, and a new landscape was now visible. Windrunner came to a stop. He tossed his head and snorted, and began to look around. They were in a broad, grassy area, with some isolated small trees and scattered rocks. Some of the rocks and the trees showed signs of damage, from either lightning or fire. In neither case did it look to have been of natural origin. A forest started up not too far away. The sun was low in sky. Concentrating for a moment to re-orient his direction sense, he determined that it was close to sundown. Turning around, he saw a huge pair of white marble doors floating a bit above the ground where their portal had been. Before he could comment, Jac answered the question he was forming. "Yes, I'm STILL sure that I didn't build this one! I do like this side a bit better, though." "What happened?" "Here, you mean? The most obvious signs of damage match a breath attack from an electric-mouthed dragon. Maybe a fireball or two fired in response. I can't tell more without tracing the area. The signs look to be around a year old, but that's a rough guess." "Anyway," Jac continued, "let's get away from this obvious tourist attraction and look for something off the beaten path for a campsite. Then you can graze and sleep while M'arrella and I go hunting. We haven't had any fresh meat in far too long." "You got that part right!" exclaimed the sword. Windrunner started walking toward the forest. They found a site in a slight depression with enough trees around it that a campsite wouldn't be too visible, and they stopped there. Jac hopped down from the saddle. "M'arrella, would you please see to Windrunner and the gear while I set the wards?" The sword dissolved into a grey mist, which expanded into a human shape, and solidified in the form of a burly man. "Why do I get the menial jobs, huh?" M'arrella then started removing the saddle. Jac unlimbered his staff, and went out from their campsite area. He turned left, and began to chant softly while dragging the staff along the ground to establish the boundary of the warding spells. His path took him in a large circle seven times around their camp. By the time Jac returned to the center of the circle, M'arrella had unloaded the saddle, and was just finishing up with currying Windrunner. "Time to go hunting now, boss?" Jac checked the sky. "You can start without me if you like. It's only half an hour till sundown, and it'll be easier for me then. Meantime, I'll scan the area for interesting places, and see what hazards there might be along the way." "I'll wait. I feel like taking a nap, anyway." M'arrella's form became indistinct, and darkened as it became shorter and then elongated. Where a man had stood a moment before, a large black hunting cat was now curling up on the ground. Jac sat cross-legged. He cast a few runes, and then took out some colored gemstones. He passed his hand over the collection a few times, and then selected a bluish one. Gazing into it, he slipped into a diviner's trance, gathering the threads of information from the area around him. Grasslands, forest, normal wildlife, a dragon's lair (without the dragon?) still somewhat warded. Signs of trade routes, with the consequent gangs of bandits in the forest. A city to the northeast, with several conentrations of stored mana, a WorldGate?!? of some sort, various emplacements at the intersection of Ley lines, and a nasty place of power. Shift awareness more to that--looks like an eldritch horror in the place of power. Areas of warding abound, some of them quite good. Compare the impressions from various points of view--yes, some areas more subtly warded against divinations, with awareness simply sliding off them. Looks like an interesting place to visit. Check the path--only about three days' travel, although the bandits might get annoying. Check them--numerous enough, with several archers, but not much magic. We can just avoid them. It's simpler that way. When Jac came out of his trance, it was almost dark. The moon was starting to rise. He put the runes and gems away again. He streched out his legs, and started to lie back while turning over. By the time he had finished the turn, he longer had the form of a man, but that of a tiger. He padded over to M'arrella, and nuzzled her awake. The pair of hunters bounded out into the night. They returned, satisfied, shortly after midnight and settled down to sleep. Just before dawn, Jac woke up, yawned, and stretched. Returning to human form, he knelt in prayer for around half an hour. He then prepared himself a small breakfast, and started some coffee. While he was eating, Windrunner also woke, and started cropping the grass again. Jac enjoyed his coffee and smoked his pipe some while waiting for the stallion to finish. He cleaned up the campsite and reloaded the saddle and gear onto the horse. M'arrella finally couldn't ignore the noise any longer, and gave up on trying to sleep. Jac mounted up, and M'arrella leapt up onto the saddle and dissolved into a dark mist, which turned grey as she returned to her scabbard at his belt. Jac dispelled the wards, and Windrunner started walking. Jac adjusted his position to sit with one hand on M'arrella's hilt and the other on Windrunner's neck. [[What sort of trouble are we hunting today?]] <> Windrunner snorted. {{Is there some sort of reason behind this plan, or is this just another random lark?}} Jac grinned. <> {{Oh, *of* *course*.}} Windrunner rolled his eyes. [[So why are we going that direction? Surely not just to bait bandits, and the game should be about as good elsewhere.]] <> [[Ok.]] {{I hope it's not TOO interesting.}} <> {{Oh, great.}} Windrunner started walking at an incline, rising into the air as though on an unseen roadway. Jac concentrated and spoke a word of power, and they disappeared from view. [ADMIN: Thanks to The Dreamer for coming up with some details of the area, to keep some sort of consistency going.] -- Spider Boardman spider@zk3.dec.com DEC OSF/1 development ...!decvax!spider I don't speak for DEC, and vice versa. MagicHutchHeader From: taz@athena.mit.edu (Brian P Shea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Amaliza] Once again we are four... Date: 22 Jul 1993 02:25:26 GMT Message-ID: <22ktqm$hbq@senator-bedfellow.MIT.EDU> Night was falling in Generica, and Rowan Littlefair hoped that this night would bring better business. Lately, things had been pretty slow. Most of his regular customers hadn't been coming to the inn of late, at least not the interesting ones. Sure, the regular crowd still stopped by, but the number of corners in the inn had dramatically decreased, and the place was starting to actually look square. Rowan went back to wiping the bar, reminiscing about the days when people would grossly overpair him to reserve a room they would never use. Ah, those were the days. -*- Upstairs, however, one of the rooms _was_ being used. Actually, two were, but all of the occupants had gathered in the larger of them and it was rather crowded. A sylvan elf was perched on top of the bureau, a burly human with red hair and matching beard was sitting on the bed, a second human with strange eyes wearing black leathers was sitting backwards on the chair, and the final occupant was another human wearing black and white leather armor and leaning against the door. "So, that's the situation," said the human with the strange eyes, Roger. "The question is, what do we do now?" Endo shrugged, "I was hoping you would have suggestions. This is my first visit to Generica. Besides, people usually have preconceived notions about sylvan elves, we tend to have the undeserved reputation of being barbarians." "Christ's nails!" snorted Edwin, the large human with the red beard. "They say the same bloody thing about the Northern Kingdoms, or any place where the men still act like men." Endo chuckled. "Perhaps that's it. Still, I don't think anyone would be willing to volunteer information to me." "You're probably right," said Traveler, the third human. "I think we need to get some help, someone who knows the ins and outs of the city better than we ever could. The right person could save us weeks worth of wasting our time, and it seems like time is a definite concern." "It is," Endo gravely said. "Well, we should ask Rowan, then," said Roger. "From what I gather, he has seen and been through a lot, I'm sure that he has lots of contacts. He's pointed us in the right direction before, right Traveler?" "That he has, Roger. That he has." Traveler opened the door and left, heading down the hall to the stairs, and the other two humans followed. Endo lingered behind for a moment, fingering a small medallion hanging from a delicate chain around his neck. The medallion was a circle, half black and half white divided by a sinuous line. It has been given to him by the queen, whom he loved dearly. He wondered how things could have changed so much in so little time. Seperated from his love, Giarr dead, Kayell alone somewhere, the security of the realm partially in the hands of humans he barely knew, a new city, and a search for a threat he couldn't even begin to guess at. All he could do, though, was shake his head and follow the humans down to the commons room. ----- The Jolly Roger aka Jacob Greenfeet aka taz@athena.mit.edu | taz@media.mit.edu aka Brian Shea Have a good one :) MagicHutchHeader Date: Wednesday, 21 Jul 1993 18:26:13 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93202.182613344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] A Shade of Haste [ADMIN: This is posted for Joe Carl, though he has no idea of the bad title pun I made {:-)!}. Anyway, this is Darvos' bit in the individual battles, or at least first part thereof...] >I shall finish you this time, fool!" Velric yelled. Then figures of shadow >ushered out from behind him -- creatures with tiny pinpoints of red for eyes. >He then stepped back into the shadows and disappeared from sight, letting >his shades do his work for him. >Darvos' eyes went wide. "Don't let them touch you! Kryalla, you must hold >these lesser daemons off of me while I deal with the Shades he has conjured." Darvos' heart raced with adrenalin as the shades closed. He watched the shades usher out from where Velric had conjured them. A lantern of darkness was left on the dias, burning with a black light. The dark glow seemed to suck the light from the room, and flickered each time a shade exited the lantern. Darvos reacted quickly, recognizing the lantern of spectre summoning, and remembering that if it was left running, it would summon another shade for every soul the Necromancer had captured within it. Gathering his energy and concentrating, he cast a bolt of energy at the lantern itself, figuring with luck it would be destroyed in the cascade of energy. The beam scintillated with all the colors of the rainbow and struck the lantern mantle full on. The beam was only absorbed by the lantern at first, but the sphere of darkness it shed was shrinking under the intensity of the blast. The shades were getting closer though, and soon Darvos knew he would have to focus on them. He could feel the hatred for life these creatures had, and it shook his confidence. But he continued blasting the lantern recklessly, allowing the shades to close on him. The lantern's dark glow was reduced to less than a foot in radius when the first shade struck. Icy cold fingers of death gripped the arm extended towards the lantern. The rainbow of energy was cut short as the shock of pain ran up Darvos' arm. Four more shades surrounded him, cutting off his escape. However, the remnants of the rainbow-colored beam rushed towards the lantern. The last of the rainbow beam was absorbed just as the lantern's black light was totally extinguished. The lantern jostled a little as the dark flame ceased to burn, tipping over in the disturbance. Black viscous fluid ran across the floor boards from the oil chamber of the lantern. Darvos grimaced with satisfaction -- despite the pain in his arm -- as he turned his attention to the five shades that encircled him. Out of the corner of one eye he noticed Kryalla was still busy holding off the lesser daemons. She had conjured an illusion of himself to battle his share of the daemons. Whey they did not see him battle the shades was probably her doing also. But the trick did not work on the shades, as they did not have normal sight. They could detect life force, and only an exceptionally powerful spell would trick these beings into believing the illusion was real. Darvos spun his arm in a move he calculated would break the hold of the shade on his wrist. If this had been tried against an ordinary man, the grip would not have been able to withstand the applied directional force. Unfortunately for Darvos, the being as immaterial as a shadow itself, and flowed with his movement, still chilling his arm and threatening to freeze it into uselessness. Darvos mustered his strength to reach down and grab for his runed-covered sword. He grabbed the hilt, and adjusted to its touch; it had not been used often since his younger days as an officer in his father's army. The runes activated upon his grasp, and he swung the long sword free of its sheath, cutting through the apparition's appendage that held him. It evaporated with a wisp of smoke, but the chill in his arm remained. The blade was a simple weapon in that it had no special enchantments other than increased skill. But Darvos had been a soldier when he was younger, and was exceptionally skilled in its use. And he carried the skill over now to his mage career. His officer days were over, and maybe his life would be too, if he didn't defeat these shades quickly. The shade that had reached Darvos first bled an inky black, but the red pin-points that were his eyes blazed fiercely. Two shades closed in from behind and tried to hold the mage's arms, but Darvos was faster. All they grasped was cloak, and if flared up with mage fire, burning them intensely. They floated back in pain, but did not turn to flee. Darvos pivoted and swung his blade through the first shade. It split wide open, and a flash of darkness was expelled from it. A fleeting emotion of hatred washed across the room. Darvos was prepared for such a discharge however, and did not hesitate in attacking a second. This one whispered to him "Come join us, so we may feast upon your soul!". Darvos didn't bother to trade words, lunging at the speaker while the other three tore at his sides and arms. The shade stayed just out of reach, and toyed with Darvos while the others needled him. No matter which one the mage turned to, the other attacked like wolves nipping at his heels. Darvos paused in his attacks, and concentrated on a spell. He would age a year at its completion, but it was a year he wouldn't have if he didn't cast the spell. He whispered arcane words of power, and the shades lunged at him, realizing what he was up to. But their timing was poor, for Darvos completed the spell before their charge could be effective. Darvos was moving much faster now, and took advantage of the shades' ill-timed attack. He took one through pin-point of light it had for eyes, and it flashed out with a burst of evil darkness, exactly like the other had. The other three ushered around him, and started to smother him in their essence. Darvos was chilled to the bone as his soul was touched by the plane of darkness that the shades came from. His sword dropped from his hand as he prepared his last spell before the shades took his soul to their home plan of existance. Silently thanking his increased speed for the time for the spell, he concentrated and snapped his fingers, and motes of light appeared on his fingertips. None of the shadows saw them, nor did they realize their existance, so intent -- so joyful -- were they in smothering Darvos' life force. For normally they would have fled in fear from this light, it being the antithesis of their darkness. Darvos flicked the motes about himself. They seemed to float in slow motion, and as they struck the shades, they grew in size, teraing holes in the creatures. The holes grew in size, as the shades were devoured by the motes. Unearthly screeches of terror filled the room as the shades were destroyed, the motes vanishing as their presence was eliminated. Darvos got up weakly, and cast a restorative spell to bolster his aging body. He knew he would pay dearly for the abuses he was putting his body through, assuming he survived this day. He felt refreshed for the moment, but knew that was all-too temporary. Nevertheless, he picked up his sword and looked around for Velric. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader From: Steve.Caple@cyberhm.royle.org (Steve Caple) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: 02/ADMIN: Atlas of the Kn Message-ID: <743296334.4@cyberhm.royle> Date: 20 Jul 93 14:31:46 GMT Captain's Log stardate 19.07.93, Commander Tom Zunder entered: TZ> Is the Dragons Inn baseline stuff on an ftp somewhere, ie a FAQ, a TZ> guide etc.? TZ> Is it on a file server, since ftp costs me money? I have gathered most of it into an archive on [>~CyberHome~<] Tom, called DRAGON.ZIP I think... in the textfiles area.... grab that if you're missing anything... * Origin: UseNet Access 10/Year !! +44-270-583287 (Fido 2:255/404) MagicHutchHeader From: bshsiung@quip.eecs.umich.edu (Bernard Hsiung) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Nireen: Arrival Date: 23 Jul 1993 04:16:59 GMT Message-ID: <22nonr$j80@zip.eecs.umich.edu> [ADMIN] Thanks to Kelly J. for writing the first half of this post. ---- Jameson stood slowly. The bird shifted on her shoulder, where it balanced itself, compensating for her movements. A hint of something white disappeared when she pressed her palms together -- a faint flash of light escaped from between her fingers. She opened her hands, glancing briefly at the butterfly tracery patterns on each palm before examining the remaining marks on her arms. Most of the angry red lines had faded from her body, leaving white traceries of scar tissue here and there. It was slowly being reabsorbed. Three days and three nights had passed since she'd been held by the Reaver'sChild. It felt as if the history of a world had gone on, leaving her far behind, part of an immobile earth. She approached the water, stopping at the high-tide mark, and knelt in the sand. Leaning down, she began to whisper. The sound was dry, raspy and sounded like both wind and rain. Gathering itself under her hands, the sand began to undulate, rippling through her fingers. She moved forward and it began to rise at her touch, gathering itself into first a mound, then the wide base of a tower. The sand whirled around her, a small tornado of grit. She held her hands in the air and she was lifted, slowly. She touched the tower of sand gradually being created for her, and where her hands rested the sand shifted and took form. Arms. Shoulders. Wings. Neck. Jawline. Face. Empty eye sockets. She worked silently. The only noise on the beach was the incessant dry hiss of sand against sand and the steady murmur of the ocean. Slowly, slowly she finished his face. The sand was a forgiving medium, easy to shape. Eventually Dariel's calm expression and tousled hair emerged from beneath her fingertips. Slowly, gently, the sand returned her to the ground and becalmed itself, relaxing into quiet. Standing before her creation, Jameson looked up and lightly touched a fold of his robe near the base of her sculpture. Dariel's eyes glowed briefly, bathing his body in the light, before fading back to blindness. The bird, still on her shoulder, shifted its grip and cocked its head, empty eyes seeming almost curious. She stroked its head with a gentle finger and turned toward the ocean, watching. Finally she turned away and walked down the beach, toward Generica. * * * She came in day. The Place was far distant, but a summons had been made. And while Stronghold still stood, no summons would go unheeded, though the Way be long and ardous, and the respondent but a single Wayfarer. And, besides, it was her brother whom she had once taken along this very passage, and she hastened to see what he had wrought. She came in night. Twice she had to use her shining spear on those who would have halted her to eat of her marrow, twice she waved in recognition of other Servants on their way to other lifetimes, and once she was forced to abandon her favored pathway, skirting the rim of a ruined Place where one of the Ten Thousand lurked and ruled. But always she forged forward, every step she took one step closer to her destination. She was Nireen, the Dancer on the Paths. * * * It was a new day's dawning. The early morning sky was thinly lit by the first efforts of the rising sun. As always, waves crashed upon rocks and winds blew by the sea where the lighthouse stood. From the lighthouse, if one had sharp eyes and the inclination, one might have seen the statue of a winged man standing on the beach some distance away. But, then, if one had blinked at that particular instant, one would have missed the yawning of a momentary chasm. From this hiccup in reality, there stepped a young woman dressed all in white. Her hair was brown and long, and her eyes the color of sky above mountains. She turned, her movement sparrow-quick, to regard the image cast in sand. Her eyes widened with something like surprise, but she walked a circle about the statue in one direction, then reversed her heading and walked a circle in the other, studying it from every angle, seeing it as a whole, as a part, reading the nuances of its position. She stood on tiptoe, brushing her hair aside as she looked into its face. Then she nodded to herself, in acceptance and in sadness, and turned again to see the lighthouse standing on top of the cliff above the waters. She paused a moment as if considering, then headed that way, her footsteps light enough to leave no imprint on the sand. Later, when she walked upon the grass, not a single blade was bent under her feet. Behind her, the statue, perhaps knowing its purpose had been fulfilled, began to be touched by the wind and the waves. By the time Nireen reached the lighthouse, it had crumbled away into an image cast in memory. ---- Comments, compliments, and complaints can be conveyed to... Bernie Hsiung (bshsiung@eecs.umich.edu) MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Bulletin Board Date: 23 Jul 1993 05:13:28 GMT Message-ID: <22ns1o$p9h@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: Bulletin, board, admin -=- Dragon's Inn Bulletin Board -=- week ending 23-July-93 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NEW THIS WEEK: none -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OTHER ACTIVE POSTS: Posted by: Imports, Exports, and Arms (Jeremy Nelson, gujn@uniwa.edu.au) Content: WE apologize for any time distortions in the local area, however, due to testing of a device (Henceforward known as 'The Thing'), the local timestream has become dislocated. There is no danger, however some people may undergo slight disorientation. Some people may apparently find themselves in multiple locations at one time. We assure customers that this is not dangerous, and all time lines are in fact continuous, and will straighten themselves out in time. We recommend leaving early for any important appointments. Normal service will be restored tomorrow, yesterday, in three weeks' time, and in three hundred and thirty years. All complaints should be forwarded to: Imports, Exports, and Arms. We thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Moriarty (Aaron Humphrey, aaron@space.ualberta.ca) Content: |-------------------------------| | Moriarty Investigations, Inc. | | | | Magic and muscle at your | | service! No problem too large | | or small! Reasonable rates! | | | | 15A-Gamma Cor Caroli Lane | | Just off the Arcade of | | Unforgotten Heroes! | |-------------------------------| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Trawm (The Dreamer, asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Content: Attention all Real Men: If you is reading this then you is in the rong bar. Come to the Spitting Cobra were you can have a good time at a good prise. FITING ENKOURAGED. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Malthus Dela Noeuze (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Content: **************************************** ** Perfumerie Grand Veneur ** ** Is Seeking a Person To ** ** Find and Bring Back a Great ** ** Blooddrinker or Souleater ** ** For Perfumeric Substances ** ** All Contacts Considered ** ** ** ** Master Perfumerist Malthus ** ** Dela Noeuze ** **************************************** ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by : Faraway Investigations (albert@bcm.tmc.edu) Content: Grand Re-Opening: Faraway Investigations. 324A Blue Moon Ave. (one block west of Ardrey's) "No case is too big for Faraway." Rates Negotiable. =========================================================================== SPECIAL STATUS: Posted by: Zenith (Mike Bavister, mrhyde@netcom.com Content: ANNOUNCING THE A.P.D-I ARCHIVES I have been carefully recording all that has transpired here at the Inn and in Generica. I estimate that my archives are missing less than 1 in 100. The archives contain over 4600 chapters (articles) in 20 huge volumes (MB). Currently the archives are only indexed by Subject (Subject line), but my trusty scribes are hard at work attempting to compile a keyword-index by name, place, and "thread". Alas, this task may take a while. There are two methods by which you, the citizens of Generica, can access the archives (and their indexes). Via the Post-Office or by Magic. Via Mail: Send mail to the address below, with your request in the body of the message. I will then search the index(es) for you, and either mail you the matching "chapters" or a list of matches (if there are too many "hits"). Until the keyword index is compiled, I will be very reluctant to search the actual archives for your requests. TO: mrhyde@netcom.com. EXAMPLE: Dear Zenith, Please search your archives for all occurance of "Lancos" or "Zebron". Thanks. Via Magic: I have set aside a portion of my personal library for the Indexes and other materials of interest. If you know the powerful "FTP" spell, you can access the indexes directly. The arcane formula is listed below. This archive is "read-only", you may retrieve anything you like from it, but you can't place anything there. If there is something you'd like placed there for the benefit of all Generican citizens, let me know via mail. Do not forget to use "binary mode" for all not in ".txt" format. The FTP library currently contains: Subject indexes (no.1-no.3999) The Directory of Generica (latest edition) JourneyGarb flyer/catalog APDI FAQs (full and mini) And coming soon: The DragonQuest Saga *note* All ".zip" files are compressed using the latest state-of-the-art compression magic. Older uncompression magic may not work (use "zip19" or "pkzip2.04"). If you have any difficulty with either the transfer of files or decompression, please let me know. ftp netcom.com(192.100.81.100) login: anonymous password: (your e-mail address) cd /pub/mrhyde/APDI Cheers and happy reading ____ / __ __ o _|_ | / |__| | | | | |__ /___ |__ | | | |_/ | | Head Librarian of the Great Library of Generica -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- REMOVED THIS WEEK : none _________________________________________________________________________ ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: taz@media.mit.edu (Brian Shea) Subject: [Amaliza] Jacob and Kayell have lunch. Message-ID: <1993Jul23.083912.16560@news.media.mit.edu> Date: Fri, 23 Jul 1993 08:39:12 GMT Jacob and Kayell first meet. There was a moment of tension, but then Kayell bowed and said, "I am in your debt." Then he smiled. Jacob couldn't help but feel more at ease, and he smiled back. He took the chance to examine the elf more closely, or at least view him as a person instead of a potential adversary. The elf had shoulder length hair that was tied into a ponytail by a leather cord, and the hair was dark green. His eyes were grey with a hint of green, and they mirrored his smile. Kayell was, in turn, taking the chance to look Jacob over more closely. Kayell could tell that the ranger's hair had been cut short at one time, but had since grown out, and every now and then Jacob would unconsciously brush a stray lock out of his eyes. Jacob looked to be in his prime, was well-muscled, and about a foot taller than Kayell's 5'3''. Kayell had seen during the fight that he was agile and skilled, as well. Like most humans, his eyes were a vivid color, blue in this case, and didn't match his dark brown hair, which was streaked with grey. Jacob had a dark tan and looked weathered, which was expected for someone who spent most of his time outside, like any ranger would. Jacob spoke, "If there is any debt, it is to you. The Sleepless seem to be a menace to everyone." Kayell was confused for a moment by the word 'sleepless', but then realization dawned. "Oh, the Grunts. A companion of mine had dubbed them that for some reason. Why do you call them Sleepless?" Jacob explained about their behavior, and after a few questions from Kayell, went on to explain about the recent changes to the forest. Kayell, in turn, related his story, telling Jacob about the elves' trip through the forest and their encounters with the Sleepless. After a few questions from Jacob, Kayell found that he had told the ranger everything, including the things he had meant to leave out. He didn't realize just how much he had let slip until after he had finished. "I never even suspected there was anything like that in the forest. Imagine, an entire elven kingdom right under my nose and I never caught hide nor hair of it." Kayell was suddenly wary, it was not good to let knowledge of Amaliza spread. In fact, it increased the danger they were in. Jacob caught the change, and guessed at its cause. "I'm sorry. I guess I shouldn't know anything about it. You have my word as a ranger that I will not reveal this information to anyone. I swear upon my honor and that of Mielikki." At these words, the runes engraven upon the stone in the stream once again glowed with a soft white light. "It is a sign from Diantro," said Kayell, "that the burden of this secret may be shared with you." "I was wondering about that. Who is Diantro and what is that rock?" "Diantro is the elven God of Honor in Battle, and I believe that the rock has become a holy spot in honor of my friend, Giarr. The central rune is his name, and the other two are the runes of Honor and of Courage." "This Giarr must have been quite a fellow," said Jacob, somewhat in awe. "Very much so," said Kayell. The seriousness was broken, though, as a rumble came from Kayell's stomach, and a loud one at that. Jacob couldn't help but laugh at the embarassed expression on Kayell's face. "Sorry, I haven't eaten since... well, since a while." "Well, then, let's eat," Jacob said, grinning. Kayell grinned back. The two found a spot to sit, and proceeded to leisurely eat lunch by the river bank. With the company, the same old meal seemed to become much more satisfying, tastier and even more filling. It is truly amazing what companionship can do for a person. All too soon, however, they were done eating. "I should be going," said Jacob, rising to his feet and brushing off some errant crumbs. "It was a pleasure to meet you, and you can be assured my oath will be binding." "Wait," said Kayell. Jacob looked at him and waited. It took a moment before Kayell answered the implied question, but then he said, "You know, since Giarr has been put to rest, my only duty is to inform the queen of the situation. But I think I would be much more valuable if I could actually tell her _what_ is going on here in the forest instead of just that _something_ is going on. Don't you think?" Jacob managed to keep a sraight face at Kayell's attempt at justification to actually get something done, and said, "You would probably be much more valuable and informative. And I could use someone to watch my back." ----- Jacob Greenfeet aka The Jolly Roger aka taz@athena.mit.edu | taz@media.mit.edu aka Brian Shea aka Pugsly Genius is just insanity in drag. Send me mail! MagicHutchHeader From: albert@chain.ssctr.bcm.tmc.edu (Rick Jones) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Krupp [GATM] Building the Perfect Beast Date: 23 Jul 1993 17:10:40 GMT Message-ID: <22p62g$ce0@gazette.bcm.tmc.edu> Well, I eventually made it back to the surface. Did you know _what_ lives in the sewers of Generica? Let's just say, I'm glad I was already dead when I went through them. Yoiks. It was nighttime when I finally popped out. I adjusted my hat and looked around. I must have had some pretty good aim, because I was only a few streets away from the building with those whacked kids. I walked around the building. Not too close mind you, I had no desire to get close to that place again. Rather run butt nekkid through the Shunned Center with ketchup poured all over my body. There weren't any lights on. I didn't know whether or not that was good. Zip was nowhere to be found. I assumed that he'd gone home by now. He was a smart kid. Besides, I had to see a mage about a monster. I knew they'd probably be at the Lighthouse, but the Ale House was closer. Hobbits are not known for their speed, but when most predators are built for folks twice as big as we are, you learn to move pretty darn fast when you need to. Anyway, I wasn't hindered by little things like walls or doors. I made a beeline straight to the Ale House. I took a deep breath, and leaped at the wall. I bouced off like a child's ball. Shoulda known better. I picked myself up and ran around to the front door. The same cuddlegirl from my previous visit was minding the entryway. "HimynameisKruppFarawayIneedtospeaktotheLadyoftheHouse," I blurted out. She ignored me. My charge must have been pretty damn low, if she couldn't see me. I concentrated harder on making myself visible and audible. "Hello, my name -" The cuddlegirl screamed. Looking back on it, I probably would have screamed if a translucent hobbit had appeared out of nowhere in the middle of my office. She also slapped the desk real hard. A tube of light sprouted up around me. I couldn't see through it. I tried touching it, but the damn thing shocked me. Great, a monster's turning the kids of Generica into turnip-heads, and I'm trapped in a Bouncer's Box. UNDERCITY..... "Mistress, you summoned me," Cyndai said. He nervously watched the cluster of children who circled her altar. They danced an ever-changing dance around a jade and amethyst statue. Cyndai noticed some of the same children who had started there a month ago. Three had fallen, their little hearts exploding from the constant dancing. As each child fell, the statue grew. As did Br'Nai's power. When he had started, it was a foot tall, made of softwood and painted with cheap laquers. Now it stood a head above the children, and the stone glistened from within with an eerie luminesance. The children who were still dancing unnerved him even more than dead ones. Their skins had gradually changed color to the colors of their goddess, in swirling blotches across their naked bodies. Not only that, but the skin had also flattened out, like they were becoming statues like their Mistress. I NEED SOMETHING OF YOU. "Whatever you desire. You know I am first and foremost your servant." A harsh, mocking laughter came from behind him. Korok, the purple and green eyed child/priest was leaning up against the entrance to the cavern. "Can' do puff. Just a smoke-n-mirrors mage." Cyndai glowered. He was a master-class illusionist, able to generate images and sounds so real they might as well be there. But, they were not, in fact, real. And for that, he was never allowed to join the prestegious Mages Guild. Relegated to cheap shows, and providing illicit services to various Low City pleasure houses. chanted Cyndai. Flames started to blossom from Korok's raggedy clothing. ENOUGH. THERE WILL BE NO FIGHTING. BR'NAI LOVES ALL OF YOU. AND YOUR FIGHTING UPSETS ME. The flames died. Both Cyndai and Korok prostrated themselves before her, and begged her forgiveness. OF COURSE, I DO. NOW, WHERE IS MY DARLING THIRD SON? A corner of the small cavern flickered, and a twisted parody of a halfing walked out of the wall. His eyes glowed with a purple light, and the normal jovial smile of a hobbit was a drooling, fang-filled grimace. As he approached the circle, he flexed his fingers, which distended and grew claws. "I am here. Two more unbelievers unfortunately committed suicide today. Tsk, tsk." He laughed to himself. GOOD, NOW THAT YOU ARE HERE, I REVEAL WHAT YOU MUST DO. THE GHOST OF KRUPP FARAWAY HAS SOMEHOW SURVIVED MY WRATH. HE SHOULD HAVE BEEN DISSAPATED TO THE FIVE WINDS OF CHAOS. EVEN NOW, HE SCAMPERS TO TELL HIS 'KAN MASTERS. THEY WHO HELPED DESTROY THE OTHER CHILDREN OF THE REAVERSCHILD. "Nothing shall come to harm you, beloved," shouted Korok, his fist in the air. The face of that statue creaked, and turned to face Korok. OF COURSE NOT, DARLING ONE, BUT THEY MIGHT HINDER OUR PLANS. SO, HEAR AND OBEY. KOROK, GATHER THE FAITHFUL, BRING THEM TO MY SIDE, AND HAVE THEM DANCE FOR MY PLEASURE. "So sez the tale. <>" Korok vanished in a puff of green smoke. BOGO, MY INSTRUMENT OF PUNISHMENT, YOU ARE TO FIND THIS CHILD. POSSESS HIM, AND AWAIT MY INSTRUCTIONS. An image appeared between the statue's outstretched hands. A small boy, dressed in typical low city rags, pacing back and forth nervously across a hardwood floor. Bogo snickered, "If I first I don't succeed..." and melted through the ceiling. NOW, CYNDAI, MY FIRST SUPPLICANT. YOU ARE TO RECEIVE THE GREATEST HONOR OF ALL. I SHALL GIVE YOU THAT WHICH YOU HAVE DESIRED ABOVE ALL. YOU, MY BELOVED, SHALL DO TRUE MAGIC. "But, but, but, Mistress. You said that it was beyond your power," sputtered Cyndai. WITH MY POWER, NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE..... HOWEVER, YOU HAVE THE HONOR OF THE ULTIMATE SACRIFICE FOR YOUR MAGICK. AND... FOR ME. The children stopped dancing and gazed upon him, smiling rictus grins. Cyndai screamed, first from terror. Then from pain. -- Rick Jones "And when the night is cloudy, albert@bcm.tmc.edu There is still a light that shines on me, Systems Support Center Shine until tomorrow, let it be." Voice: 713-798-7352 -The Beatles, "Let it Be" MagicHutchHeader From: corleyj@helium.gas.uug.arizona.edu (Jason D Corley ) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Pitzar] Alone on the road Part I Message-ID: <22pclp$9sm@organpipe.uug.arizona.edu> Date: 23 Jul 93 19:03:21 GMT The fields were wide and green, uniform and dark. The plants reached to my waist, and I waded through them slowly, as if it were liquid. The land was flat, the sky was grey with clouds. When I sat to eat lunch, unrolling the bright white linen from around the cheese I carried, the plants rose above me. The day was warm and huimid, so I rested my head on my knapsack and relaxed for a while. When I stood up, there was a small dot of color near the horizon, a tiny spot of white in a long green rippling lake of grass. It took me hours to get near it. For the longest time I seemed not to be moving at all. As I drew closer I saw that it was a scarecrow, pale arms hanging straight out and down. When I got very near, I stepped in a hole hidden in the weeds and stumbled forward. I rubbed my ankle and stood up. The scarecrow was a man, crucified with iron spikes through his arms, neck and legs. His pale, pallid flesh was rotted and stained with mold. His eye sockets were black, crawling with insects. His head lolled to one side, mouth hangin open at an obscene angle. I moved back, my feet rustling through the plants. His head rolled around and I heard the snap and pop of little bones in his neck. Large beetles appeared in his eyes, their black shiny carapaces reflecting the dim light of the sun. His mouth slid open and shut. I heard a voice rise from the earth, strangely out of sync with the mouth, dripping with unsentimental hatred, cold and monotone: "Welcome back, Jake." I woke up. The breeze had come back. I picked up the knapsack and kept walking. Overhead a crow circled and wheeled away on the breeze. The sun was going down. -- ****************************************************************************** "Why shouldn't things be largely absurd, futile and transitory: they are so, and we are so, and they and we go very well together." ------Santayana Jason D. "corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu" Corley is no longer in service. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] How to live in a dungeon Message-ID: <1993Jul24.221546.6706@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Sat, 24 Jul 93 22:15:46 GMT First Rule of Adventure Outfitting: BRING ROPE. "Gee, I wish I'd brought some rope." Palandun said to himself as he picked his way through the tombs of Ahmey. He stared at the little chasm across his path, too far to jump, but not too far to pitch a little grappling hook across. "Damn." He said to himself, "Maybe I can go around." he turned around and headed back the way he came. Palandun knew there were nasty things about, and a person alone was most vulnerable. He had set his light-gem in a little miners hat and kept his eyes peeled and mouth shut. "Hear, see, and smell: use all your distance- senses all the time." His drill instructor had taught him. "You cannot cast a seeing-spell or a warding-spell, so must be doubly aware." His studies of preadator-prey interactions aided him also, by spotting where a predator was likely to lurk and clearing those places first. He looked at his little map, and adjudged himself to be in the right place to drift a tunnel to the path he had been following. He reached in his pack and pulled out his pickadze. The tool itself, a pick on one end and an axe turned on it's side on the other, was old as man, an archeologist at the University in Generica had said that he found similar things in digs with the Heathens, a race that had crossed the Mysty mountains 4000 years ago. Palandun's pickadze, like his sword, was magic, imbued with spells to aid in it's primary purpose. Even with help, Palandun did not find drifting a tunnel through 100 yards of living rock to be easy. When he had finished, he had to rest. He hid his light, put away his pickadze, got a good grip on his sword, and curled up in his cloak, trying to pretend to be a boulder. He woke in time to see some giant scorpions, hovering around him trying to make out what he was.He used their reluctance to don his cap and draw his sword, then take in the situation. ###################################### S..............................S S..............................S S...................p..........S ###########.####################### #S# going that way -> As palandun could see, he was surrounded. He had fewer enemies in the tunnel he had just cut, but he hadn't cut it large enough for combat. Palandun found himself running out of options, and had to resort to a tactic he had last used in the fourth orc war: When surrounded, clobber one side and leave the other one alone. He raised his sword, gave a war whoop, and charged. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: spider@zk3.dec.com (Spider Boardman) Subject: [Jac] Encounter at the East Gate Message-ID: References: Date: Sun, 25 Jul 1993 05:43:26 GMT Guardsman Hugh Bain was tired, and his head hurt. He was standing his watch at the East Gate of the city, but his mind kept drifting in the mid-morning sun. He was thinking about his late night before, cursing himself for a fool now that he was having trouble staying awake. He'd been gambling, even winning a bit. After the drinking that had followed, however, most of his winnings were gone. What was left was not enough to make up for his misery now. He shook his head again, trying to clear it, while bringing himself back to his surroundings. As he looked out along the roadway leading into the city, he rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't seeing things. Where Hugh could have sworn there had been no one just a moment before, now there was a lone rider coming toward Generica. He was armed like one of the northern barbarian fighters, but he didn't really look like one of them. Something seemed strange about the horse, too. Hugh stood up straight, and forced his eyes to focus. The horse looked like a Morgan, and the rider sat easily in the saddle. Hugh squinted, trying to see what had caught his attention. Then it came to him. The horseman was still on the other side of the milepost! They had to be half again as big as they had looked! Hugh's mouth opened in surprise. He noticed, and closed it again. Finding nothing better to do, Hugh watched them as they approached the gate. He tried to figure out what their sizes would turn out to be. He guessed that the horse would be 24 to 26 hands high. The rider looked to be about 8 feet tall. As they neared, he kept watching for details. He told himself that it helped him to stay awake. The horse was black, except for a white star and a white sock on the right rear leg. It had relatively short and thick legs, and a broad body. Its powerful build showed that it could handle quite a bit more weight than it was carrying. Hugh decided that it had to be a warhorse, and not just an overgrown palfrey. For some reason, the horse did not seem to be kicking up any dust from the roadway as it walked. The saddle was also black, decorated with silver studs. It had the high back favored by knights, but the front of the saddle was not in a style with which Hugh was familiar. It was formed into something of a platform with a knob at the front, from which the reins hung loosely. The horse didn't seem to mind the lack of direction from its rider. Of course, Hugh reminded himself, warhorses are used to being guided by knee pressure and verbal signals while the knight's hands are full. The rider's boots, breeches, and cloak were also black. The boots were of polished leather. The cloak had a silvery lining. His shirt was of a loose-fitting style, which laced up the front. It was creamy-white, and partly open at the throat. He wore a crimson sash for a belt. He had a big sword hung back over his right shoulder, and a smaller one hanging from his belt by his left hip. One end of a metal-shod quarterstaff stuck out from under the cloak by his left shoulder. There was some sort of crossbow strapped along the right-hand side of the saddle, along with a quiver holding a score of bolts for it. Neither a lance nor a shield was in evidence. Hugh estimated that the man weighed at least 30 stone, with no signs of fat. Comparing the rider's size and corded muscles with the size of his swords, Hugh decided that the lack of a shield, at least, was explained by a two-sworded fighting style. As the stranger rode nearer, Hugh got a better look at his features. The man's hair was medium brown. It was cut short around his face. It seemed to be longer in back, tied in a warrior's braid. He wore a braided red thong as a headband. He had a dark beard, which he wore combed in a forked style, showing a prominent dimple in his chin. He was smoking a briar pipe. He was well-tanned, but his coloration left it obvious that he had started with fair skin. The man appeared to be about 30 years old. He was handsome, with the dashing look of a pirate. Hugh figured him to have a way with the ladies. The rider's clothing seemed to be of the finest commercial spider silk. Each sword had a large ruby set in its pommel, with gold wire wound about the hilt. Based on this evidence of wealth, Hugh upgraded his idea of the man's station from "knight" to "noble". He was, however, bothered by the lack of any retinue. As the horse approached the bridge, Hugh winced in anticipation of the coming assault on his aching head. However, the bells under the bridge did not start ringing. In fact, he noticed, there wasn't even the usual sound of hooves clopping. The horse was walking silently along the span. Hugh was still wondering at this when the horse came to stop in the opening of the gate. Hugh felt an aura of authority coming from the rider, now that he was so close. This man was surely either a noble or a general. However, there was also an aura of another kind. Peace, maybe, or safety? No--it was sanctity. Hugh vaguely remembered hearing that some kinds of paladin had vows of poverty that amounted to "own nothing you can't carry on your horse." He was suddenly sure that this man must be a paladin. As he was thinking this, part of his mind noted that the horse's shoulder came halfway up the second hinge, which meant that it stood 24 and a half hands high. That made it the biggest horse he had ever seen. Finally, he noticed that the rider was looking at him. As Hugh met his eyes, the man took his pipe out his mouth and spoke softly in a deep, pleasant voice. "You don't look like you feel too well." Hugh was suddenly a bit embarrassed. Complaining of a hangover to a paladin would probably be good for a lecture, at least. "Beggin' y'r lordship's pard'n, sor, 'tain't nothin' t'be worryin' such as y'rself." The rider chuckled. "Be that however it may, it can't be good for a city when a guard at its gate isn't feeling as he should." He pulled his right leg around and sat sideways in his saddle. He put his hands at his sides and snapped his legs out straight in front of him, and then pushed off with his hands. Once he was in the air, he managed to twist around so as to land softly on the balls of his feet, standing a foot away. The effect made Hugh think of a cat. Somehow, he'd even managed to leave his pipe sitting on that platform at the front of his saddle. "Now, then, let's have a look at you." The stranger bent down to look closely at Hugh's eyes. As he did so, Hugh noticed that his hair had a pair of tawny stripes running along the top. "So, you had a bit too much partying last night, did you?" Hugh nodded sheepishly. "Well, let that teach something about the virtue of moderation." The man smiled kindly for a moment. His face then turned serious, and he held Hugh's head between his hands as he bowed his own head and whispered in a language that Hugh did not recognize. Hugh felt a Presence about him, and it seemed to promise him comfort. As that presence withdrew from his awareness, he felt refreshed, and his head cleared. The other man released Hugh and straightened. The guardsman was at a loss for words. He wondered whether he dared to speak to such a person, even to thank him. The stranger solved that dilemma for him by speaking first. "By the way," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "My name's not `your lordship.' I am Jacob William Benson, at your service. Most people call me `Jac.'" He cocked his head a bit to the side, and looked expectantly at Hugh. "Uh, uhm, Hugh Bain, sor, at y'r sorvice. Ah, um, thank you, y'r lo--uh, Jac. I, uh, that is..." "It comes with the territory, Hugh. Just try not to repeat the mistake." A smile played at the corners of Jac's mouth. "Uh, I, right. I will. I mean I won't!" Jac laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Good lad. So, tell me, Hugh, where's a good inn around here, anyway?" "Well, if it's r'lly an inn y'r wantin'?" Jac nodded. "The best f'r those th't c'n afford 't, I s'pose, 'd hafta be th' Dragon's Inn, sor." Hugh pointed west, along Dragon Lane. "It'll be on y'r left, sor, jus' afore y'come t' the Plaza 'f Glitt'rin' Steel." "Thanks, Hugh." Jac stepped a bit closer to his horse. That part of Hugh's mind that noticed such things saw that Jac's head was just a hand shy of the withers. Jac leapt up and slightly to the side, splaying his legs, and eased his landing in the saddle with this hands, placing them just before and behind himself. Having settled in his seat again, he picked up his pipe. The horse resumed walking, passing the rest of the way through the gate. As he started down Dragon Lane, Jac called back a farewell. "Take care of yourself, Hugh." Hugh watched them for a bit, then turned and checked the roadway on the outside of the gate once more. "'t least, I won't be fallin' t' sleep on th' job t'day!" he said to himself. -- Spider Boardman spider@zk3.dec.com DEC OSF/1 development ...!decvax!spider I don't speak for DEC, and vice versa. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] Gunther...Gunther? Message-ID: <1993Jul25.124909.2463@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> References: <1993Jul24.221546.6706@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Sun, 25 Jul 93 12:49:09 GMT Palandun finally found his way to Gunther's camp. He wasn't exactly sure how he would sneak in, spirit one person away, and get out without getting clobbered but they didn't seem to leave a watch, which made his job easier. They also seemed to be rather messy. The tents the bivouac had put up were still standing, but there was gear strewn about without rhyme or reason. He stalked up to the main tent and whipped open the door: Scaring the life out of a two-foot rat, which squeaked and ambled out the door. "Hello?" Palandun said, rapidly searching the camp. "Anybody there?" He found nobody, no bodies, no wounded. There was blood here and there but not much. It looked as if a nonlethal battle had been fought here. A little farther down the tunnel he found the remains of the lethal part. A half a dozen bodies lay strewn about, with evidence that upards of a dozen more had been removed by the toumb denizens. There was copious amounts of blood, slippery where it hadn't coagulated. It reminded palandun of a half a dozen times in the third and fourth wars, coming to the battle after it had happened, trying to bury the dead and succor the wounded. For that, Palandun managed to think analytically, and turned his attention to the wounds the bodies had recieved. They tended to be cleaving, slashing wounds, as if some gigantic claws had caught them. They were not the pincer bites and poison stings of scorpions (Palandun nursed some of them himself, though he had taken care of them) Nor the gripping and biting of Para-kobolds (What palandun called the kholboldi, after their distant cousins on the west continent.) The bites of t-crocs or the wounds of any other dungeon animal he could think of. Those were sword slashes, and in the tunnels sword slashes came from two places: Drow, and the rest of Nexus above. Gunther was not one of the slain that Palandun could see, and he suspected not one of the slain that had been dragged off. He was in the nonlethal scuffle at the camp. Palandun went back there to investigate and literally stepped in his biggest clue of the day: "Yech." Horse manure. Palandun recreated the scene. Gunther encamps with his entorague, then deploys his watchmen and goes into his tent to write a report or make some tea or something. Some men from above ride in (Drow don't as a rule keep horses, finding fodder in a dark cave is just too hard.), are challenged by the guards, and when they don't answer, there's a fight. Sometime during the fight, a horse takes a dump. Victorious, the riders ride into camp. Gunther hears a commotion, comes out of his tent, and dives back in again for weapons, but one of the riders gets to him first. The encamped party is caught unprepared, and after a brief struggle gives up. They are marched off back the way the riders came, where there is a large ramp to the outside. Palandun heads off down the corridor to find this ramp, and maybe track Gunther down. MagicHutchHeader 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 MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Pitzar] On the Road, Part II Message-ID: <22vr2m$dbj@organpipe.uug.arizona.edu> From: corleyj@helium.gas.uug.arizona.edu (Jason D Corley ) Date: 26 Jul 93 05:45:58 GMT I found a road that day, dusty and yellow with old pollen, smelling of sweet decay. It was going north and south almost exactly. I decided to walk along it for a while. There were no ruts, no wagon tracks, just footprints, confused, reversing paths along the dust. It was a thin road, eventually becoming little more than a footpath, twisty and misshapen on the straight flat plains. Once I was on the path, though, I was loathe to leave it. The weeds had grown higher, nearly at neck level, and the wind had started to pick up, a chill breeze causing strange rustlings that seemed to slowly close in around me. The road grew still thinner, the weeds still higher. The sky overhead was slate-gray. Black crows like shadows flew past overhear, moving quickly. They said that the crows spoke the old language, or at least one word: "Craos", lost. I wasn't lost. There were no other roads than this one, and my destination was on it's way to me, very near now. I could smell it. I came upon a town, the wooden buildings dark against the light green weeds that rose up around it. Barely enough room for a market house and an inn, and the paths disappearing into the weeds, leading, I thought, to the other hovels deeper in. The inn was occupied only by a very old man who did not speak a word to me as he took my silver piece and passed me a tankard of terribly bitter ale. The inn grew darker. He did not light a lamp, and I sat in the dark for several moments before realizing that he had gone. I sipped the last of the ale and grimaced in the dark. Somehow I felt my way up to the room and fell into a strange dream in which Dawn was working down in the presses, she was pushing the lever down and up, and instead of papers, she was making little round cakes. I asked her what they were, and she said "Years." When I woke up, the crows were outside my window. "Lost." they said, "Lost." -- ****************************************************************************** "Why shouldn't things be largely absurd, futile and transitory: they are so, and we are so, and they and we go very well together." ------Santayana Jason D. "corleyj@gas.uug.arizona.edu" Corley is no longer in service. MagicHutchHeader Date: Mon, 26 Jul 1993 10:28:11 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93207.102811ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] Erik's Dream ADMIN: First of all, thanks to everyone who has sent their thoughts on the Erik and Lex postings. Feedback, as always, is appreciated. Secondly, I would like to start putting the Erik and Lex postings under a seperate thread name. I'd be grateful for any suggestions. Finally, this post is written in first person, from Erik's view. --OO--OO-- Where am I? I am alone. I know this place. I have been here before. <> Those mountains look familiar. <> The wind smells of cinnamon. The air is cool and dry. <> Should those clouds be moving so quickly toward the horizon? And where is the sun? <> I can see my shadow, but there is no sun. <> The sand beneath my feet is comfortably warm. Oh! I'm naked! Where is my cloak? I never take my cloak off unless... Yes, that's it, I'm dreaming again. Okay dream, what are you going to show me tonight I wonder? <> WHAT WAS THAT? <> Oh, there's someone walking this way. Who is it? <> I know him. I recognize that stride, that form. Or is it one of his 'brothers'? "Lex? Is that you?" Hmm, he doesn't answer. I wonder what he wants. <> "Lex, can you hear me? It's Erik." <
> What's that look on his face? Fear? Shame? "Lex, what's the matter?" <> Oh, my poor man. I can feel his pain. I would do anything to stop it. "Shhhh. It's okay. Tell me what's wrong." <> <> <> "I want to get close to you. I don't think I should, but I want to. I ... " <> He no longer looks helpless. What new face has replaced the old one? Hunger? Desire? His grip around me is like bands of iron, but I can't resist. I don't even know if I want to. <> The heart of a storm. Waves and wind, crashing together. Water and Air joined in fury. This is Lex's desire. How can I deny him? I want to get closer. I want to let go. <> By the look of my consent, I have made him happy. He is smiling so brightly. So widely. <> Too widely. By the Towers! His mouth is like a great void. <> I'm falling! I'll lose myself in this darkness... --OO--OO-- Erik woke. His attention was drawn to the top of his dresser by the sight of a butterfly making a cocoon. His dream parted his mind like smoke in the wind. Love and Peace and The Loss Of I, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [WM] Meditation Date: 26 Jul 1993 17:30:11 GMT Message-ID: <2314b3INNje5@news.gac.edu> ADMIN: Recap - After surviving the manipulations of the Elders, the White Minotaur was having doubts about his service to Kiri-Jolith. He retired to the roof of the Inn too ponder his next course of action. In the midst of his doubts, Thorr-kan observed a band of satyrs setting of for a performance in the square. Feeling their call for power, the minotaur received his answer. His service to the cause of Good would continue. This post takes place after the defeat of the Reaverschild. --- The satyr group finished their last number and began packing up. Around the square, the crowd began breaking into small groups as people wandered away. Since Generica seemed to be intact, Thorr-kan decided that whatever had threatened was past. That was good, because he lacked any energy to help. Turning from the Plaza, Thorr-kan surveys the rooftop of the Inn. Shaking his head quietly, he strides across it to the western edge. There, he settles himself onto the parapet and sits down. As he looks over the town Thorr-kan thinks of the events that brought him here. 'I am at peace once again,' the minotaur muses. 'But I am also completely exhausted. Little desire to continue remains within me. I need time: time to gather my strength and time to come to terms with what I have accepted.' A mighty sigh rumbles forth. Thorr-kan whispers, "But time I lack, eh, milord? Instead, I will have to make due." He glances sky-ward. "I cannot began to explain how TIRED I am of 'making due,'" the minotaur bellows. He shakes his head. There is not an answer; there rarely is. Thorr-kan sits still for several minutes until an idea forms. Though the White Minotaur has rejected most of minotaur society, some teachings he follows yet. One is a lesson from the Circus. A warrior is more than simply muscle. Over the muscle rules a mind that must be tended to. With a strong mind, a warrior can convince his body to even greater lengths, perform much greater feats. To this end, minotaur elite are taught a method of focusing their energies on these ends. Assuming a cross-legged position, the White Minotaur grasps his horns firmly and pulls outward. He creates pain, using it as a focus. Then he digs his claws into his thighs. The cuts heal almost instantly, but the throbbing from them provides Thorr-kan with more of a focus. With it, he sweeps clear all thoughts. Setting a portion of his consciousness on guard, Thorr-kan lets energy flow through him. For a timeless instant, Thorr-kan drifts at ease. Nothing matters at such times. The formlessness is a rest of sorts, holding a peacefulness the minotaur rarely feels. The feeling lasts for to little a time. A presence intrudes on the edge of Thorr-kan's awareness. Instantly, he trains his mind on it. It wants contact. It needs him. It is... a summons? No. It is a... sending. An image forms. It coalesces. It forms a face... Thorr-kan returns to the world with an almost audible thump. Gleep appears in front of him chittering and squealing spiritedly. The pseudo-dragon loops around his large friend joyously. For the first time in many weeks, the White Minotaur lets loose a genuine smile. Raising his arm to give Gleep a perch, Thorr-kan says, "I, too, heard, little one. We are summoned a final time!" That day, many in Generica heard hearty laughter echoing long and loud across the city. From Low Town to the Palace to the East Gates, people looked up in wonderment and fear. History would record it as the Day of Laughing Spirits, but few would ever know its true significance: A war had ended, a victory had been gained. The long wait was finally over. "Sar-ella calls!" "The exile is ended!" "*WE ARE GOING HOME!*" -Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur ****************************************************************************** Peace through strength! Victory through annihilation! Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Synopses Date: 26 Jul 1993 17:32:03 GMT Message-ID: <2314ejINNjhq@news.gac.edu> This is a bi-weekly posting, courtesy of your local chapter of Net-Addicts Anonymous. Any contributions to the Synopses can be sent to the e-mail address below, using the following form (stolen with all due credit to Alan Smith ). [Thread Name] First Character (adress) Second Character (NPC) Third Character (Adress) Fourth character (General/thread NPC) Based out of: base location. Quest: single sentence describing task. Synopsis: A paragraph or so describing the thread. A note on NPCs: A plain NPC is a subordinate of the PC described just before. A "Thread" NPC is one useable by any member of the thread, a "General" NPC is one useable by anyone in APDI. -Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur ******************************************************************************* Peace through strength! Victory through annihilation! Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ******************************************************************************* ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- [JOI] Elanon (clysdale@gurtheru.ocunix.on.ca/ac559@freenet.carleton.ca), Shortfellow (NPC Pygmy Servant), Darkin (jmondak@vax.cns.muskingum.edu), Quaeros (hibschmn@phoenix.princeton.edu), Alarond (jclifford@vax.cns.muskingum.edu), Segoi(abb6731@ritvax.isc.rit.edu), Kyar(rosenje@wkuvx1.bitnet), Aleric (hsexauer@vax.cns.muskingum.edu), Ildamar (ac169@freenet.carleton.ca). Based Out Of: The Drift Inn, Generica. Quest: Defeat the evil nasty magocracy who have taken over Elanon's home country of Qar'Tima, kidnapped Ildamar's lost love Tirana, etc. Synopsis: I (Elanon) sent out an envoy all across Generica only a few short months ago, calling all of the brave of heart to join me in my quest for the freedom of my country. Having gathered together the brave souls listed above, (apologies if I missed anyone or messed up any names -- it's been a while), we chartered a boat, and embarked for the lands of Qar'Tima. The journey there was not uneventful -- when we were a fair ways out of Generica we were assaulted by a ship of death; with black sails and timber, and populated by any number of unsavoury creatures of the dark. We held them off, and eventually sunk the cursed ship, but not before we had sustained some heavy injuries. We were then blown off-course by the storm that hit the whole region of Generica, and landed on a small island many leagues to the north of Generica. Then the foul mage-spawn caught up with us again, and played many cruel jests and tortures upon our party, before poisoning me to the point where camp was necessary, to allow us to recover our sanity and forces. For the last month and a half we have been slowly recuperating in an armoured and defended camp, where all take turns defending the area. I have slowly been recovering from the wounds done me by those hell-spawn, and expect that I shall be ready to leave in about another month and a half; my determination for revenge increased. IN REAL TERMS: We've basically stopped for the summer due to too many people leaving at some time or another. If you're interested in joining our group we're still welcoming new people. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- [MG] The Mage Guild thread (previous incarnations and relations to: [R] Rameshandar thread, [MI] Moriarty Investigations, [Mage Guild], [Storm]) writers and characters: Kelly J. Cooper (kjc@cs.rutgers.edu) Jameson W. Walker Andrea Evans Kadrys Bernie Hsiung (bshsiung@eecs.umich.edu) Dariel (and most of the rest of the Mage Guild when necessary) Aaron Humphrey (temporarily aaronh@ersys.edmonton.ab.ca, currently no access) (You _really_ want me to list _all_ his characters?! Oh, man. Uh...) Alfvaen/Elstree/Lassiviren, Bronwen, Maleiu, Mistletoe, Ornigan, Teonyl (I've probably missed a few, but not all of them were directly involved.) The Dreamer (asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Luthor Anside, Little Rat (and a host of others) Penny Hutchison (penny@agora.rain.com) ar'Elya hat en 23 (Silver Warrior) Steve Hutchison (hutch@hutch.it.intel.com) 'Raelf het ae 25 (Raf, Lex, Kev, Orim) Phyllis/Liralen Li (li@inigo.data-io.com) Kardia Xvaramene, Joy NPCs (mostly thread NPCs, Archmagi available on a lending basis): The Big Bad Guy: Mar (and R) of Third The Mage Guild: the Archmagi (Dasham, Delalle, Fauteuil, Leonaco, Nescie, Rivy, Thorn, Urcohea) others (Dieter, Coral, Gwaliostrok, Nijorik) miscellaneous: a good lot of the rest of Generica including but not restricted to Amaan, Delmara, Grumbli Blisterthum, Slim, Moriarty, Queriche, ... Based out of: all Nexus, but mostly Generica and environs of late Primary Quest: To find and undo the works of the Reaverschild Mar. Synopsis: There are a huge number of subplots in this thread. Not all of them are mentioned in the synopsis, and, of the ones which are, most aren't given anywhere near as much exposition as they deserve. (Hint: which characters are named above but not below?) This is a "big picture" summary. Some battles are petty and meaningless. Some battles are universal and perpetual. One of the latter is the War between the Keeper of the Beacon of Hope and His sworn enemy, the Reaver. These two struggle against each other in all existences, in every reality. The Keeper fights for the continuation of life. The Reaver fights for the ending of all things. Often, their battles are subtle and go unnoticed by the inhabitants of the Places in which they War. But sometimes, they become explicit and a few individuals working on either side may turn the tide... Dariel, a Servant of the Keeper, arrives in Nexus on a mission for his Master. Shortly after disposing of several rebellious Servants, he is found in the Rameshandar desert and trapped by the mage Amaan, who plans to tap Dariel's abilities to increase his personal power. Enroute to Generica by sea, Amaan's ship is attacked by pirates, and Dariel escapes. He imprisons Amaan in turn, and speaks with Death, who tells him that the way to Nexus is open to the forces of his Master's enemy. He resolves to seek out one who understands the nature of the Place where he is, in order to learn how to best apply himself, should he be needed. Meanwhile, there is much turmoil in the Generican Mage Guild. Supreme Archmage Delalle, the head of the Guild, has isolated himself from the daily running of the Guild to meditate -- for the past twenty years. During this time, the Guild has suffered a number of crises that have led some of the other Archmagi to believe Delalle has been irresponsible in his leadership. The main pressure to have Delalle replaced comes from Thorn, the ruthlessly ambitious Archmage of Politics. But Delalle is loyally supported by Urcohea, the Archmage of Internal Security, who has been authorized by him to act as Supreme Archmage in his absence. Urcohea hires Moriarty Investigations in an attempt to gather evidence about Thorn's underhanded dealings. At the same time, a tiny fragment of an once-powerful Reaverchild named Mar floats into Nexus and awakens. He arranges events to establish himself in the body of Nescie, the brilliant but relatively inexperienced Archmage of Education. He begins to draw power to himself, primarily by murdering forgotten gods, and uses it to construct new deities that favor his reality. This does not go entirely unnoticed, though Mar is very cunning in his application of energies. The signs of a disaster of unimaginable proportions is written in the stars, though the essence of the struggle obscures its precise nature. When Dariel reaches Generica, Delalle emerges from his seclusion to greet him, and it is revealed that Delalle's withdrawal from the world was in preparation for Dariel's arrival. Mar's activity in Nexus is correlated by an oracle that Dariel consults. Dariel's presence does not go unnoticed, either, and he is contacted by the 'Kan Travellers ar'Elya and 'Raelf. Several of Mar's new godlings are neutralized with their help. Yet Mar himself remains elusive, and Dariel cannot find him. Though Nescie is heartened by the unexpected appearance of his friend Jameson, Mar's usurpation of his body causes him to feel ever increasing amounts of stress, and he is unable to determine the true cause. Delalle loses his position as Supreme Archmage, although the vote is very close, and, in fact, the balance is tipped because of Mar's influence on Nescie. Shortly thereafter, Mar destroys Delalle, but fortunately Delalle has already passed on to Dariel all of the critical information that he has collated. Perhaps emboldened by his success, Mar then creates an avatar named "R" to ambush and eliminate 'Raelf, but miscalculates and fails to win a total victory. R is left with a tangible piece of Hope enmeshed in his form which Dariel can use to find him, and hence Mar. R flees to Mar, who has invested too much power into R to risk losing him, and he takes them to a place he had previously created, where they await Dariel's arrival. The stage is set for the final act... (Or, at least, the one that resolves the Primary Quest. There are quite a few subplots and consequences that aren't anywhere near resolution. Which means I'll have to write a significantly different synopsis next time to let you know what they are.) ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- [NTY] Palandun (arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu) Ja'nis (NPC) Gunther Toodie, Dawg the Dragon, King Glorrin (Thread NPC) Based out of: Dragon's inn, Generica. Quest: A description of the adventures of Palandun the Bismanian during his stay on the continent. Synopsis: Palandun traveled to Generica to complete his graduate studies in biology, while there he befriended Ja'nis the warrior, who took a job under Gunther Toodie, a Gem-merchant. On a trip to visit the scource of Gunther's gems, Palandun was sold into slavery, He is currently escaping and finding a way to free the other captives. The thread has also encountered Jorma and Rackesh, other bismanians who are on the continent due to running away from an abusive family and being thrown in exile, respectively. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- [Roger] The Jolly Roger (taz@athena.mit.edu); Endo, Giarr, Kayell (NPC Sylvan Elves). Based out of: The Glade (cool name, eh?) Quest: The Ongoing Adventures of the Jolly Roger Currently: Gathering Info on the Suspected Threat to the Sylvan Kingdom ----- Background: Roger is a male physical adept from the Boston Sprawl on Earth, circa 2050 A.D. He is from the Shadowrun milieu, where high technology stands side by side with reemerging magic and monsters. After two aborted threads, Roger is now in this mini-thread. (Perhaps to become a full-blown thread in the near future.) Synopsis of [Roger] ----- "Well, ya see, it all started when I found myself in these foot hills out near the Great Forest. I was following this trail, wondering what to do, when I was attacked by this giant. "After takin' care o' that, I wandered a bit more. I got lost, so I climbed a hill ta do some recon. I spotted a grove of trees a ways off, and decided to go there. "Well, I climbed down and suddenly this arrow nearly skewers me. I ran off, and dodged a few more sniper attacks. I reached the grove after a near miss, and climbed a tree to set my own ambush. "After forever, these elves entered the scene. 'Cept they weren't regular elves, they were the green type. Ya know, sylvans. I got in a scrap with them, but there were three of them and they were fast, damn fast, and not too bad at fightin' neither. "Comes down to it, I saw I was gonna lose, so I surrendered. Well, they took me back to their place. Only, the place they took me was a city in the trees. Problem was that there was no way this could've fit in the glade, so I figure we passed through a gateway or into a pocket dimension. Somethin' like that. "I almost forgot to mention that the elves knew karate and bowed and stuff, and that the palace was just like back in Old Japan, and that they talked about somethin' called 'the Way.' Well, I learned my karate back home, and I'm good at it, so I guess they were curious. "Well, the elves take me to see their queen, and she invites me to stay and show them my stuff. So, I agreed. After all, the queen was pretty hot, even if her skin was green. "A month passed, and I got to be tight with one of the ambushers, name of Endo. One day, he tells me he has to go on a secret mission for the queen. Later, the queen asks me to go with them, to check out if the kingdom is being threatened by all these circumstantial little things that are going on. I agree, and then she adds that she wants me to look out for Endo, turns out they got something goin' on. "Well, we left a couple of days later, early in the morning, and headed for Generica to check it all out." ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: mwasson@nyx.cs.du.edu (Gecko-boy) Subject: [Amaliza] A Clue Over Breakfast Message-ID: <1993Jul26.230743.1333@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Mon, 26 Jul 93 23:07:43 GMT [Roger and the sylvan elf Endo have been joined by Traveler and Sir Edwin. Their next task: find out who murdered Giarr.] * * * They selected a table, and Roger signaled Littlefair. He nodded, finished taking another patron's order, and then came over to their table, wiping his hands on a towel. "Hello, good sirs. What'll you have?" "A word of advice," said Roger, "if you'd be willing to give it." Littlefair frowned, rubbed his chin. "In a jam of some sort, Roger? By the way, you haven't introduced me to your companions. Traveler and I have met once before, I believe." Introductions were quickly made. If Littlefair found anything unusual about having a sylvan elf and a weather-worn visitor from the barbarian north in his tavern, he certainly didn't show it. "Now," he said, taking a seat, "how can I be of service?" Roger explained the situation. Littlefair listened, interrupting once or twice to ask a question. Then he sat back. "There's somebody after you, no doubt about that. And they knew you were coming to Generica." Roger nodded. "Right. Unless you buy that Giarr's murder was a random hit, someone out for a party." "Which I don't," said Littlefair, "and which you don't either. So, whoever's after you has resources. If there's a contract out on your lives, it would have been done through one of the assassin's guilds in the Low City, likely as not. Let me think. I do have a friend ... He's one of the rare ones to leave the Buff', lives out by the harbour now. But like they say, `Once a Buffer...'" "`...always a Buffer.' He sounds like our man," said Roger. "His name's Longyear," said Littlefair. "Geoffrey Longyear. Works out at the docks. If you get there an hour or so before sunrise you'll catch him right before he starts work. Just ask around at McKinney & Sons, that large trading company down there. Show him this." Littlefair fished around in one of his pockets, pulled out a card embossed with the sign of the Dragon's Inn and the name "Rowan Littlefair Esq" printed in elaborate curley-cues. "An hour before sunrise, eh?" said Edwin. "That gives us time for a bottle or two of something, I'd say." * * * The four of them set off while it was still dark, heading west on Dragon's Lane. The character of any city becomes markedly different at nightfall; Generica is no exception. Along Merchant's Hill the walled mansions, so stately and elegant during daylight hours, stood silent and foreboding like fortresses, or prisons. The moon was out, and it cast a wan light on the cobblestones, the bricks, the dark leaves of the trees overhanging the lane. They turned right onto a crooked side-street that led south-west past Merchant's Hill toward the harbour. The air began to smell of the sea, and if one breathed deeply one could pick out other smells, the smells of the harbour and the warehouses: fish and smoked meat and spices, sawdust and rotting lumber. The streets here grew narrower, crowding upon each other. And there were more people out -- dock workers, merchants come to do business, sailors staggering in from a night's shore leave. "McKinney & Sons," said Roger. It was the first anyone had spoken since setting out from Dragon's Inn. "I think that's this way." He pointed down a twisting alley. "Near that pub, I think," said Traveler, "ah... the Golden Crow or something." And indeed, at the next corner they came upon a seedy pub (closed at this hour), whose sign bore the silhouette of an angry-looking crow painted in flaking yellow. A few doors down was a large warehouse, two stories tall. Large block letters spelled out the name: McKINNEY & SONS, and in smaller letters the words "Imports, Exports &c." The door to the warehouse stood open; inside was pitch black. A man stood leaning against the door frame smoking a pipe. He looked about 25, tall and dark-skinned, with long hair pulled back in a pony tail. He had the casual watchfulness of one who grew up in the streets. Traveler spoke in an undertone. "Do you suppose that's Longyear? Only one of us should approach him. Otherwise it may look as though we're about to jump him, and I'd hate to have to kill our contact." This last Traveler said with a slight grin. Roger nodded. "I'll do it, I've got that card Rowan gave us." So saying, he walked toward the warehouse entrance while the others hung back. "Good morning, sir," he called out. "I'm wondering where I might find Geoffrey Longyear." The man looked him over for a minute without replying, then looked at the other three, then back to Roger. He sucked on his pipe. Smoke curled from the bowl, and the ember flared orange. "Who's looking?" His voice was deep and resonant. "Myself and my three companions are friends of Rowan Littlefair," said Roger. The man smiled. "Many claim friendship with Rowan. There are fewer whom Rowan would claim as friends, eh?" Roger pulled the card from an inner pocket, held it out to the other man. It gleamed white in the moonlight. The man looked at it, handed it back to Roger. "Well then!" He stuck out his hand. "Pleasure to meet you. I suppose you're in a spot of trouble. And as I owe Rowan a favour or two, he sent you to me." "It's something like that," said Roger. "Come upstairs, then. I live over the warehouse. We can have a bite of breakfast, if you and your friends don't mind smoked haddock. I start work in half an hour but that should give us time." Roger gestured to the others, and the four of them followed Longyear into the darkened warehouse and up a narrow flight of stairs. "Darker than a bleeding grave in here," muttered Edwin. They reached the top of the landing, and Longyear ushered them into a cramped but tidy room. He lit a lamp and set about fixing breakfast while Roger and Endo told their story. Soon Longyear set out plates with steamed haddock, scrambled eggs, and slices of spiced ham. There weren't enough chairs, so Traveler and Edwin (with much grumbling on Edwin's part) had to perch on crates, plates balanced on their knees. Longyear remained standing, leaning against the counter top. "Now, these fellows who attacked you and killed, ah, Giarr was it? What did they look like?" "Well," said Roger, "they wore cloaks and chain mail, and they wielded long swords." "One of them," broke in Endo, "carried this." He brought out a dagger and passed it over to Longyear, who set down his plate and peered at it closely. The dagger looked to be of quality, balanced and of tempered steel, and the hilt was an ivory figurine in the shape of a woman wearing robes. The workmanship of the figurine was exquisite, but it was unfinished. The face of the woman had yet to be carved. "Ah! See this?" Longyear grinned. "It's the symbol used by the Faceless, an assassin's coven in the Low City." They were silent a moment. Then Longyear said, "You look as though you can handle yourselves in a fight, but I dare say you'll need a guide through the Low City. Look, meet me back here at about dusk. I'll be getting off work. Then we can come up with a plan." He handed the dagger back to Endo. "I hope Rowan understands that this settles things up once and for all!" * * * [comments welcomed!] -- | Mike Wasson, University of Hawai'i @ Manoa | "Vain patience to heap and | | Software Engineering Research Lab (SERL) | hoard. Time surely would | |(setq *standard-disclaimer* t) ;; of course! | scatter all." (Joyce) | MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: penny@agora.rain.com (Penny Hutchison) Subject: [Rat-tales] Errol's Story Message-ID: Date: Tue, 27 Jul 1993 07:34:34 GMT [ADMIN] This is the second in a series of bedtime stories being told to Little Rat and Kev by ar'Elya. "You did have to let them watch you practice this close to their bedtime, didn't you?" sighed ar'Eyla. 'Raelf shrugged defensively. "We were late getting started." As they walked towards the open bedroom door thumps, giggles and cries of "Hai-KEEBA!" grew louder and the floor shook slightly. "I should make you go in there and settle them down but knowing you, you'd only encourage them!" 'Raelf tried one of his more engaging grins on his mate and gave her earlobe an apologetic nibble, "Hey, babe, this dude can't help bein' a primo role-model." ar'Elya snorted and pushed him aside. "Just for that, Uncle Errol is coming to visit." "Aw, no, Raye," he moaned miserably, "not him." "Yes, him. They've got to meet everybody, and he does get tired of coming in last." "What kind of story is he going to tell them?" muttered 'Raelf as they went into the kitchen. "How to stay oh-so-sewer fresh? Daggers are a boy's best friend?" ar'Elya grinned as she poured the cocoa. "I do love you, y'know." She cocked her head as an especially loud crash came from Kev's bedroom. "Yes, that was definitely furniture that time. I'd better make it decaf." --0-- "This," ar'Elya announced as she looked at the wreckage, "is a total loss. Looks like you'll have to spend the night in another bedroom, Kev, but both of you get to clean this place up tomorrow." "Yes Reelya, we're sorry Reelya" replied the duo as they picked up blankets (and a scruffy dragon) and went down the hall. "But Mister Raf sez we gotta practice alla times to be fokus," Little Rat pointed out. "Focussed, I think he meant," ar'Elya replied as she settled them in to the new rooms. A fire had already been started in Kev's room, and was the new room's only light. "But you're not ready to practice without your sensei yet. You could accidentally hurt yourselves." "But Mister Raf sez that we won't get hurt no more," replied Kev. "That's only after you _and_Little_Rat_ have taken more than a few lessons. Now do you think you're ready for cocoa and another story?" "Izzit a prinsess again?" asked Little Rat. "Alla time prinsesseses" scowled Kev. "No, this time you'll meet my friend Errol. He's..oh, there he is," She turned and indicated a figure seated in the dim corner. Little Rat squinted suspiciously. She KNEW the room had been empty when they comed in! "Magics agin?" "No, child, not this time. Blame it on skill, if you like," the figure replied softly and came into the light. If Little Rat had been homesick at all, this man would have cured it. He was small and slight, wearing a rumpled coat that looked none-too-clean. His hat was shoved low on his head, hiding his features. "Dear Errol, you know it's polite to take your hat off inside, especially in front of ladies," chided ar'Elya, smiling at Little Rat and clearly including her in that term. Little Rat was shocked. She'd _never_ been called _that_ before. "So right, ar'Elya, as always," the little man sighed, removing the hat to reveal a round pale face and half-lidded, gentle eyes. "How do you do," he shook hands with the children. To Little Rat's surprise, his hand was cool, but not damp. "Errol, this is Little Rat and Kev. Little Rat and Kev, this is my friend Errol. Why don't you visit with him while you finish your cocoa?" She wished them all goodnight and left. Kev looked _very_ much as if he would have followed her out if he'd dared, but Little Rat was coolly studying Errol over her cup. He returned her gaze with a small smile. "You don' scares me, ya don't." "Should I?" Errol asked. Little Rat squirmed with thought. "S'not that ya _wanna_, or that yer _tryin'_ to, but like..." "Like I look as if I should?" Both the children nodded. "Don't you think that it's a pretty valuable weapon for me?" Puzzled frowns at this. "Lookin' scary a weapon? Like a knife or sumpin'?" "Yes, in a way, very much like that. But it's more like what 'Raf has been teaching both of you about self-defence. Appearances can be very useful." "Oh, yeah?" Kev doubted. "Did either of you see me come in? That was using appearance in another way, to have you _not_ notice that there was anything different about this room." "Ohhhh" breathed Little Rat. "Teach me, Errol, teach _me_ ta do dat!" demanded Kev. He quietly chuckled. "You'll have to asked ar'Elya and 'Raelf if this is something they want you to know. I promise you if they agree, I will. But tonight I'm supposed to tell you a story. What sort would you prefer? A magical one, a fairy tale, a true story? How about a true magic story?" The Rat shrugged, and Kev asked, "Izzit sad?" "Oh, you'll see," Errol replied. "Listen. When I was your age, I...appeared differently than I do now." "Well, duh," smirked Kev. "Big folks don't look like kids." "Such an intelligent boy," Errol purred. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a sweet-smelling cigarette and started to tap it on his leg. "I do believe that was...almost...a clever remark. Now, you don't want me to use this, do you?", and he waved the cigarette in Kev's direction, very gently. Kev's face wrinkled up, "Nossir, please." Little Rat punched Kev in the side while Errol put away the offending object with an absent air. "Husshup 'n' lissen!" she hissed. "No, I looked different because I was sickly", he continued. "It will be easier for you to think of it as being struck with a curse, or possessed by a demon with a strange sense of humor. Imagine that your body won't move the way you tell it to, and that you can't speak very well, but your mind isn't sick." "I seen kids like dat, but not too much 'cause I heard dat sometime dey get taken to da woods an' tied to a tree sose da big dogs an' flyin' t-crocks can gettim." Little Rat was going to continue, but felt like she had said too much already. "Yes, indeed, little one. Such things would happen where I lived. It was a surprise to many that I survived as long as I did. You see, far too many thought that since I looked the way I did, then I must be stupid, too." Errol's eyes flashed silver suddenly in the dim room. "But that I never was!" Kev got a firmer grip on his dragon and shivered a little. "Yes, it could be...quite amusing where I grew up," Errol rubbed his shoulder reminicently, as if it ached. "Both of you would feel very much at home there. Rather rough-and-tumble, with many little people involved in little schemes. I had some ideas of my own. Even though my body was clumsy, I could use my mind well, indeed. How I would laugh when I would see others fail, where I knew I could succeed! Unfortunately, others could understand my laughter, if not my speech." Here he gave another little chuckle, and shrugged. "So lacking in a sense of humor, my old neighbors. There was one place I could go, though, where I didn't feel so trapped. Do you remember the moving pictures that both of you have seen here?" The children both nodded. "I would go see something quite similar. Everyone in them was beautiful. Even the ugly people were beautiful. Everyone could dance and sing, only bad people would get hurt, and good always won." The little man's mouth twitched into a grimace or a grin. "Such a ...refreshing change from real life." "It became easier to spend more and more time there, in the dark," he continued. "I was usually too involved in the picture to notice what was going on around me, but I eventually noticed that someone had started sitting in the seat to my right, not every time at first, but more and more often, as time went on. This was very strange, because I thought no one would ever sit next to me, willingly." "We soon started talking, at first about what was on the screen, and then about ourselves. She never had trouble understanding me as others did. She even found me...amusing. One day, after a little liquid courage, I decided to wait until the houselights came up to see what this paragon could look like, instead of scuttling out as the credits rolled." Errol leaned back in the chair, shoved his hands deep into both pockets and whistled long and low. "Fortuna's empty sockets! She was beyond all hope or expectation." For the first time that evening, a truly happy smile played about his lips. Kev poked Little Rat in the side. "Betcha she was pretty're den Lady Ale." Little Rat looked scandalized. "Nuh _uh_!" Errol half-grinned. "And she didn't even run away as the lights came up. That night we went out to dinner, or rather, she took me. What service, what attention, what a difference her company made! We even went out walking, me! In broad daylight yet. You should have seen the looks on their faces, children, as we walked, with her arm around me, adjusting herself to my gait. My old...friends had never been so surprised." He leaned forward and looked intently at both of the children. "What surprised them most was that she wasn't making game of me, or had some ulterior motive for being with me. It just killed them that she actually enjoyed being seen with me, spending time with me, talking with me for hours. And the richness of it when they tried to... divert her from me. So unsuccessfully, in fact, that they eventually tried to use more forceful means to pursuade her." He shook his head and waved a finger almost chidingly at the memory. "But she had ways and means of defending herself, she did. They then thought to go back to their old methods of persuasion with me. But my friend had showed me how to take some of my ideas of self-protection and implement them. After a few encounters, I never had much trouble walking down the streets myself, unmolested. It began to dawn on the brighter of my neighbors that they may actually have something to learn from me. Amazing how easy it is to be understood when you're not speaking through a bloody mouth." Errol fell silent, looking into the fire. He then rose and turned to go. "Wait" cried Kev. "You said this would be a magic true story. Where's the magic?" Errol turned back quickly, a glint in his eye. "The magic, boy? For all my...friend had done for me, yes, and has always done, she made me feel as if she were in MY debt! There's magic, if you like." The fire roared as if in answer, making the children jump. When they turned back, the room was empty. MagicHutchHeader From: kjc@aramis.rutgers.edu (Kelly J. Cooper) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [MG] All that's best of dark and bright Message-ID: Date: 28 Jul 93 00:33:46 GMT [Admin: This piece was co-authored by Andrea Evans... my thanks to her... and to Kadrys. This piece occurs almost immediately after "Nireen: Arrival" written by Bernie and myself.] "In another life your friends never desert you In another life you never have to cry In another life no one ever hurts you In this other life your loved ones never die But this is the life you have This Is The Life" -Vernon Reid "You shouldn't let people drive you crazy when you know it's within walking distance." * * * She found herself walking very slowly. Returning to Generica took much longer than she'd thought, than she'd remembered running out here. Her body ached, and she found she was limping. The break in her right leg hadn't healed smoothly yet, and the muscles jumped at the strain she was putting on them. She slid off and stumbled through the rocks at the base of the cliff, on the edge of town, always careful of the bird in her arms. Eventually, she scrambled up and made her way around the northern end of the docks. There was something that spoke of pain in her expression and kept most of those who saw her from meeting her eyes. A few of the local inhabitants tried to follow her, only to find themselves confused in a vague sort of way and unable to remember what they'd been doing a moment ago. She walked. Only faintly aware of pain, of other beings, of the grimy texture of the road beneath her bare and bleeding feet. She walked. It was what she did. Part of who she was. As reflexive as breathing. And eventually, her walking led her to the doorway of the Inn, where she paused a moment before opening the door and stepping within. If she'd noticed the expression on Littlefair's face, when she walked through the door, she might have been sorry. But she wasn't looking at him. She smelled something familiar, heard an odd not-quite discordant tune in the blood of the room, felt a presence she hadn't thought of in years. Drinker of blood. Here. Even before the thought had become fully conscious, her body had automatically increased blood production and thickened the skin at her throat. She shuffled forward a step, then another, nostrils flared and eyes searching. * * * Mary Littlefair rested a cool hand on the corded muscle of Rowan's arm. "There's nothing to be done, man. Kardia warned us. She's got to do it herself. Let her be." Rowan shook his head slowly and continued polishing glasses. * * * Someone in a long cloak bowed to a woman at a nearby table, thus revealing a seated figure behind him. Jameson stilled, then limped forward, toward the man sitting alone at a quiet table. As she approached, he glanced up startled and black eyes met green ones. The dark eyes widened, ever so slightly and he half rose, looking ready to catch her should she fall. She stood before him, resting a hand lightly on his table and looking down into his eyes. In a voice rough from screaming, she said softly "pretty." Smiling, she slid to her knees, repeating "pretty" softly, almost to herself. As consciousness slipped away, she saw his face floating above her own, dark hair framing it like raven's wings. * * * Kadrys was drawn out of his thoughts by the scent. Freshly spilled, and drawing near. He glanced up, and saw a strange woman limping toward him. Clad in mottled rags, caressing a dazzling white bird as tenderly as if it were her baby. Staring at him with the bristling blank focus of iron filings in the presence of lodestone. He focused all his senses on her. In an eidetic flash, far faster than it takes to tell, he absorbed the details of her appearance. He heard under the uneven shuffle of her bleeding feet, the faint dull grind of broken bone: thighbone, by the crookedness of her stance. The firelight picked out a web of fine white scars, branching over her face in a net as cruel as shattered glass. And he saw the dull, aching stare of her eyes. She was far from here: lost in some hazy world of confusion and pain. The distance of her gaze made her look strangely blind as she homed in on him, stood wavering slightly. Her voice, as she repeated a meaningless word, as absently as an echo, held the gravelly rasp of thirst and torn vocal cords. And then, her knees had started to fold. Kadrys slid out of his seat, reaching for the woman even as she slipped toward unconsciousness. He completed the movement with a flow so smooth it looked oddly natural, fated, as if the two of them had been practising it together for years. He scooped her out of her fall, cradled her in his arms as lightly as a girl, though she was no shorter than himself. Holding her, just as she had still held the bird, even while she was falling. For a moment, he stared down at her face. Young, but the scars gave her the tragic look of a crone, abandoned and lost. He looked up, his eyes flicking intently round the room. Mary Littlefair was hurrying toward him, her round face pale with concern. Kadrys spat anxious questions at Mary as she drew nearer, pitching his voice low to avoid disturbing the woman. "Do you know her? What's happened to her? Can you get her a healer?" "She's a friend of Kardia's. Named Jameson Walker. Kardia told me just before she left with 'Raelf and ar'Elya, that this poor lass had helped them in a fight a few days ago with some horrible thing, and was hurt bad. But 'Raelf said she was a special sort of mage, and she had to have time to heal her own hurts, nobody else could do it for her." Mary nodded toward the staircase. "She's still got a room here. You could put the poor girl to bed, let her rest there." Kadrys thanked Mary, and climbed the stairs, moving in a smooth stalking stride which gave no jolt to the sleeper. He nudged the door to her room open with one foot, and gently laid her down on the bed. There was not a stir, not a murmur from her. She lay there, lost to the world. Kadrys sighed, looking down at her, at her head as it lolled on the pillow like a broken doll. Delicately, he stroked stray wisps of her brown hair out of her face, feeling the salt crystals, the grains of sand grinding between his fingertips, caking the strands. At his movement, the bird in Jameson's arms stirred for the first time, lifting its head and turning toward him. Its eyes had the same empty blankness her stare had shown. But Kadrys had an odd sensation of being watched, all the same. He gave a shrug and a faint, wry grin to the bird. "Well, what do you think? She's like the pillar of salt from the legend. She looks to me as if she could do with having those scars cleaned. Would you object to that?" he grinned, tinging the words with mock-deference, while a tiny part of him felt wordlessly that the deference was not, after all, out of place. The bird half-spread a wing, wriggled out from under Jameson's limp hand to lie on the coverlet, a little distance away. Its pointed beak opened, as if to pant, or perhaps to speak, then closed as it tucked its head under its wing. Kadrys nodded. "I'll take that for a 'yes'..." He left briefly to bring hot water to her room, mixing a warm bath. He gently removed the filth-encrusted rags. He hissed quietly through his teeth as he saw that the scars extended all over her, as if whatever she'd been fighting had turned all the nerves in her body into white-hot wires. Directly over her heart was a shiny expanse of scar tissue the size of a man's fist. She _must_ have been a powerful mage. No ordinary mortal could survive such a wound. He shook his head, sighed. His eyes were bleak. Mage or no, she must have been through absolute hell. He slowly gathered her up and sat her in the bath, cradling her head in his hands as he rubbed the soap into her hair. Carefully he washed the salt and the sweat and the dry crusted blood away from her multitude of scars. As he moved down her arms, he paused, holding her limp hand and peering into her palm like a gypsy. Staring at the delicate threads of scar tissue, shaped like white lace. Lace in the elegant form of a butterfly. He picked up her other hand, seeing the mirror image of the lacework in her other palm. Lacework. His mind flashed back to a quiet afternoon, in another room of this very Inn, watching Kardia at work over similar delicate webs. A speculative frown shadowed his face as he washed her clothes and hung them to dry before the fire. He lifted Jameson out of the bath and wrapped her in a spare blanket, sat her in a chair facing into the warmth of the blaze until she was dry and warmed through, and he could put her to bed once more. And in all that time, her breathing, her heartbeat were as regular as clockwork. Inhumanly regular. And she never neared consciousness. But the bird's head swivelled, following his silent movements with its empty eyes. At last he had done for her everything he could. And so, he composed himself, sitting patiently as the fire dimmed into coals and then to darkness, watching as the scars faded, a hairsbreadth at a time, from her face. * * * When she woke, the first thing she noticed was that she was clean. The grit, sand and sea salt were gone from her skin, her scalp, from under her nails. The second thing was the warmth of the bird's body, next to her. When she opened her eyes, she found herself in the dark of a room. It smelled like her own. And he was here. "It seems," a gentle voice began, tentatively, "That we have some mutual friends. The goodwoman Littlefair has informed me of your friendship with Kardia and 'Raelf. And of your... condition." Jameson blinked into the darkness. "You know them?" Her voice had the rough sound of glass on sandpaper, painful even for her to hear. Slowly, achingly, tenuous wisps of memory returned and she was gradually able to orient herself. She was at the Inn. There had been ... a singer of blood music. A vampire. Him. Kadrys gave her a crooked smile. "You could say that." Then the smile was replaced by a faint frown. "But if you didn't know that I knew your friends, then why did you come to me, out of everyone in the Inn? If you'd wanted to go to your room, you could have gone to the Littlefairs if you didn't think you could make the staircase. Why me?" A soft breath escaped her as she searched for the right words. "You are ... You reminded me of ... someone." She paused and swallowed hard. It had been a long time since she'd used her voice. It felt ... awkward. What had she been using instead? She had ... she was, losing context. She dragged herself back to the present, to her guest. "You reminded me of... a friend I had... a long time ago... another vampire." For the barest instant, Kadrys paused, before sighing. "Mages' eyes are keen. I shouldn't be surprised." He added ruefully, "I just begin to worry that I might be relaxing my guard..." Jameson shook her head just a little. "Not my eyes, my nose. And my ears." Kadrys nodded briefly. "Then your nose or ears or whatever were working well enough, but I was worried about your mind: you were in a lot of pain, and a lot of confusion. You kept saying something was 'pretty.' The bird, I suppose. What's the story behind him? Is he your familiar?" Jameson lips twitched a crooked grin and a lively glint sparked for a moment in her green eyes, "I was... talking about _you_. You're pretty..." Kadrys stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded at her choice of words, then gave a brief burst of laughter. Jameson turned slowly onto her side, not quite wincing and leaned on her elbow to look down at the bird nestling in close to her, stroking its head with the most delicate touch. Her voice, when she spoke was still rough, but softer. "No, he's not my familiar... I'm not..." She swallowed. "He... challenged the ReaversChild, when it... held me... He... freed me. He let me go. It's so hard..." Her voice caught and she paused to bow her head over the bird, and her breathing caught in a single dry sob. The bird raised its head, spreading both its wings wide in a fan of pristine plumes, gleaming softly in the half-darkness. It stroked its wingtips down her face, with a faint silken rustle, before letting them drop in an untidy spread of feathers as it lapsed back, exhausted. Though Kadrys made no sound at all, she knew it as he drew closer. She could hear the cool minor keys of his bloodmusic intensify as he reached out a tentative hand toward her, laid it on the back of her head, his fingers stroking her hair softly, a quiet, undemanding caress. He looked down at her. So young in appearance, so aged by experience. The scars and sorrow of her at this moment, overwhelming the impish streak deep underneath. He saw her, and ached for her. She looked up at him, seeing those dark eyes soft with sympathy, and had to look away. As she raised her head, he withdrew his hand, moved to back away, leave the room, give her some privacy in her grief. "I'm sorry..." he whispered. "No." It came out harsher than she intended. She repeated, more softly, "No. Please... don't go?" --- Feedback appreciated... Kelly J. Cooper kjc@cs.rutgers.edu MagicHutchHeader From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roaming] Into the Great Forest Date: 28 Jul 1993 03:45:10 GMT Message-ID: <234so6INNf5v@news.gac.edu> Slowly, the normal sounds of the Forest began again. The disturbances had passed, leaving the creatures to continue their lives. Three bodies lay fallen in various positions, quite dead. From the shadows, a goblin slunk forth. He crossed the glen towards the bodies, bow nocked and ready. When it became clear that there was no longer a threat, the goblin moved to examine the bodies. One lay face-down with three arrows in its back. The next lay half-twisted, a weapon half drawn. Scorch marks covered its shoulder and face. The final body sat against a tree, a gaping hole in the ribs and an arrow peaking from its eye. The goblin relaxed; there was no longer a threat here. He motioned to the forest behind him. The forest shimmered in response. Out of the disturbance stepped a short figure. He had an elven grace, but was built like a human. A glowing sling dangled from his hand as he scanned the forest about the two. It had been seven days since Pheu and Thad had departed from the _Gibraltar_. The ranger and the bard had spent the entire time dodging patrols of these hulking creatures. "So these are our enemies," said the half-elf. "They would seem to be some type of ogre. Pheu, I have had too much of ogres recently." The goblin grinned without humor. "Me too, Thad. But these no ogres I ever seen. Look, twisted, somehow. Not good, not good..." "Whatever they are, they need not sleep." Thad looked grim. "For three days, they followed us. Neither your woodcraft nor my cloaking spells did more than delay them." Pheu nodded agreement. The goblin walked over and kicked one of the corpses. "Abomination," he muttered. Aloud, "Come, elfes. We almost to the Lady. Even now, Pheu can hear her call." The half-elf looked about him. He lacked his friend's sensitivity to this particular forest, but, as a priest of Chan-Da'all, Thad had an empathy with nature. Pheu was right. Throughout the forest, there had been a feeling of wrongness. Here, that feeling eased. Everything was not well, but something seemed to say, Wait. Bear with us. We are trying. "Indeed," Thaddius Farsinger answered, "lead on." ----- It took two more days of backtracking and twisting until Pheu was satisfied. The goblin seemed paranoid about leading these creatures to his Lady. Thad made no comments. It was not his friend at threat. On that second day, Pheu called Highflyer to them. Whispering to the hawk, the goblin seemed to pass on instructions of some sort. Glancing at Thaddius, Pheu drew himself up. "Forward," he said, a gleam in his eyes. "The Lady awaits us." ----- As the two entered yet another part of the forest, the light took a surreal edge. Everything seemed bright, sharp, in focus. Wonderful scents filled the air: flowers, fruits, the very life of the forest. All around came the sounds of animals at play and at rest. Here, at least, the Forest was in Harmony. The thickets parted, revealing a glade of exceptional beauty. Thad stepped to it, only to feel a hand on his arm. The bard turned halfway, looking back at Pheu, who stood with a hand shading his eyes. There was a glint of pain on his face, but the look of sheer awe easily surpassed it. "I can go no further, Thad," whispered the goblin regretfully. "Beyond here, I will never be allowed to pass." "What..?" Bewilderment crossed the half-elf's face. Pheu smiled. "Me goblin. We creatures of the dark, no matter how much I might wish otherwise. Out there, only faerie and their kin can roam. That be you. Farewell, Thaddius Farsinger. You have been a true friend. I am honored you allowed me to Roam with you..." The goblin faded into the shadow. "Good-bye, Pheu. Thank you," Thad whispered and turned, walking towards the Light. -Thaddius Farsinger "Bred to Roam alone..." ****************************************************************************** Sometimes, those you love most are the ones you have to leave behind. Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ****************************************************************************** MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [NEWCOMERS] Just how do you get into Generica at midnight? Date: 28 Jul 1993 04:28:27 GMT Message-ID: <234v9b$467@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> The city ahead spoke of medieval beauty. A healthy forest brushed against stone walls with majestic gates that pressed the city against a calm ocean. A light mist sparkled, showing hints of elegant architecture and the masts of trade ships at rest. Michael could feel energy in the city, even at this distance, a mixture of life and night calling him. /Strange. Armitage, are my senses hyped because of paranoia or is it something about this realm? ... Ok, get back to me as soon as you figure it out./ Casey walked up behind Michael and in a low voice spoke the words neither of them were wanting to hear. "You do know how to get back, right?" Michael turned to look his friends in his eyes. A long silence weighed on both of them as they thought of the implications of the question. Finally Michael spoke up, "Sure we'll just repeat the ritual, no problem." Both of them could here the uncertainly in his voice but Michael continued on much for his own sake as Casey's. "Lets take a look around before we go shall we? At least the weather is an improvement." He patted a few pockets. "You have a compass on you? I kinda lost my sense of north when we passed through." Casey shrugged and handed Michael his staff. "Your guess is as good as mine." Michael lead the way, trying to hold a mental trick of looking more confident than he felt and feeling more confident than he looked. He started making judgments and observations out loud about the stars, which seemed totally out of place, and the path, which still had many of the same landmarks as the one they took to the gate, and anything else that would keep that one little part of him from voicing the fear he wasn't letting himself feel. The walk to the unknown city took longer than expected, but as they drew closer, his inner voices gave way to awe. "As many games I played," Michael spoke as one meeting his god for the first time, "as many books that I read, as many dreams..." He could not find the words to finish. He forgot about his friend, walked up to the wall and ran his fingers across the moist stone. "Weathered... Dad could probably tell which type or rock. Granite would be my guess, if it grows here." He found a crack and traced it, then noticed several smaller ones, each less than a fingernail wide and about an inch deep. The wall towered above him as if presenting a challenge, tempting him to partake of the chaos and adventure that lay on the other side. Michael slipped something from his pockets around his hand. /Clark, friend. Your tools are serving me well. I'm glad you forgot about them./ Casey watched as his friend walked himself along the wall, towards the corner furthest from the ocean. Casey shrugged, it seamed as good a direction as any. He walked further than Michael and soon came around the corner. A light was heading slowly towards what seamed like the main gate. Casey stood staring at the light for a minute. Suddenly, he realized that Michael was about halfway up the wall. "What are you doing there!" Casey whispered harshly. Michael didn't turn his head. Any shift in balance could cause him to fall. He wiggled his left hand from the stone and carefully placed the teeth of the climbing claw into a crack level with his eyes. Bits of stone flaked away at the forced entry. /I hope this isn't indicative of the climate here./ He shifted his weight onto that hand slowly, testing it's grip. When it held, he released his right hand and tried to repeat the procedure by touch alone. "Weather cracks," he said as if it explained everything. "Fine, and how am I supposed to go over the wall?" Casey growled in return. "How else do you plan to get inside? Got any local currency for the guard at the gate? Besides, it feels safe." Michael smiled openly, guessing what his friend thought about his logic. /Not that there was a guard at the gate. Casey wouldn't have noticed that./ He pulled himself up another foot and saw smooth stone to his left. /Don't complain yet, look around. Not down. No, not down. Fine. Only one way then./ He reached up as far as he could stretch, putting much more weight on his right hand than he thought was safe, and the claws barely caught the top of the wall. After a quick scurry, he lay prone on the top of the wall. "This must be some use of the word safe that I wasn't previously aware of." Casey muttered back not expecting his friend to here him. "Here," Michael said, brushing the claws off with the wall. "These'll help you climb up. The cracks stop near the top and don't use the spots I did. The wall's getting old. You might want to use these too." He dropped two shiny blades with metal bands hanging loosely. "They strap over your shoes. I personally don't like them. And throw me up my staff." Casey threw up the staff and looked at the claws. They felt unfamiliar in his hands. Casey tried for a few minutes to affix the blades on his feet. /Nope, Michael is definitely crazy to think I can do this./ Casey took off his coat and sat down. Carefully putting the blades in the coat, he proceeded to add his shoes to the pile. Zipping up the coat and pulling the draw strings as tight as possible turned it into a crude bag. Using the arms, he tied the bag around his neck and looked at the wall. /There is nothing to fear/ Casey thought. Slowly he made his way up the wall. He reached the top and let out his breath that he had been holding in one long whoosh. He looked down at the bloody trail his feet had left, after they were cut halfway up the wall. /Never again, never again will I climb this wall./ Casey looked out from the top of the wall to the top of the building that was very close by. The person on top of the building was very noticeable as well as the fact that he was looking this way.  Oops. Sorry about all the ^Zs and the extra spaces in the middle. Forgot to edit it after uploading :( MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: mar@physics.su.OZ.AU (David Mar) Subject: ADMIN: Alfvaen vanishes again. Message-ID: <1993Jul28.071917.16727@ucc.su.OZ.AU> Date: Wed, 28 Jul 1993 07:19:17 GMT Hey ho folks, Unfortunately, I bring bad news again. Alfvaen (aaron@atlantis.uucp) has again lost his account, this time almost certainly permanently. You can e-mail him at aaronh@ersys.edmonton.ab.ca if you want to talk to him, but he can't send or read posts here. And he may be a little slow answering e-mail too, since his access is a bit restricted. He hopes to return more permanently if/when (fingers crossed!) he is accepted into a computer science course at a nearby university. take care all, David Mar. mar@physics.su.oz.au Astrophysics Department, University of Sydney NSW 2006, Australia. MagicHutchHeader Date: Tue, 27 Jul 1993 15:42:52 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93208.154252ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] An Overdue Visit ADMIN: This post takes place before 'Raf & company go looking for Andrea and Sheryl. It was written primarily by Mike Sander with additional input from Steve Hutchison and I. A rumbling sound struck Lancos' ears, infiltrating his involuntary senses. His eyes opened instantly, while his mind tried to deal with disorientation. 'Earthquake?' he thought to himself, temporarily forgetting exactly where he was. Feeling no movement underneath him, he disregarded the notion, and quickly scanned the area for the source of the noise. As he turned his head, he literally came face to face with Bast. The cat was purring loudly, occasionally rolling back and forth; obviously, her getting too close to his ear had caused the sound. Now that panic had subsided, reality quickly filled its place. He remembered he was at 'Raelf's, and quite safe. He almost felt embarrassed, but overriding that sensation was the temptation to try to go back to sleep. However, the warrior knew he was up to stay -- such was the down side of sleeping lightly. He rose out of bed, careful not to wake Bast, and tried to stretch away the last of his tiredness. "Up already?" came a voice from behind, as the brownie made a well-timed entrance. "Your clothes and armor and being handled as we speak. They will be ready shortly, and if you wish to bathe in the meanwhile, you can use this robe." He held out a tan silken robe, which Lancos studied warily. "Don't worry," the brownie said, smiling at the ranger's apprehension. "the robe is real; you can keep it if you want." "Thanks; I may do that." Lancos replied. Having been thinking along the lines of showering anyway, he donned the robe and headed for the bathroom across the hall. He entered, closed and locked the door behind him, and stripped. Stepping into the tub proper -- and noticing its fine, smooth texture, like marble -- he adjust the handle that controlling the water. Water ran into his hair and down his body. It came with a harder pressure than Lancos had been used to in the overhead-bucket showers, but the intensity was welcome. It seemed to help relieve some of the minor tension in his back and joints; and felt good to be rid of almost all the physical signs of the encounter with BBD and his allies. Upon finishing, he turned off the water, and stepped out, to drip-dry a bit before toweling himself off. He went to the mirror, and gave himself a small smile at his image, as if to ignore his slightly bloodshot eyes or his wild-looking hair. Well, at least he could fix the latter. Finding a brush in a drawer by the sink, he fiddled with his tresses until they looked significantly less like a rat's nest. He grinned slightly at himself again -- this time more sincerely; feeling more whole again -- and after putting on the robe, headed back to his room. There he found his clothes and armor waiting for him. They had been repaired and washed, leaving no trace of blood or ichor. He picked up his tunic, and noticed it was odorless -- leave it to the 'kani to know that rangers preferred to go without the usual washday herbs and perfumes. He swiftly but methodically placed his armor and tunic on him. Then, he woke Bast, picked her up, and walked toward the living room. Rhythm Song was already there, eating some concoction that didn't look overly appetizing. "Hey, there." Karl said upon seeing the warrior. "We missed you last night." Lancos allowed himself a wry smile. "Sorry about that; I was too worn out. Maybe next time." "Is that a promise?" Anna teased. "Well, I don't know about that -- my word's very important to me." "I know. That's why I'm trying to get it." she replied with a wide smile and a wink. Lancos barely kept to himself a small laugh. "Well, I can't guarantee anything. But next time you play, if you really need me, I suppose I can withstand an 'initiation'." "That settles that -- we need another gig!" "Well, 'Raf is going off on a wild horse chase today, love. 'Sides, we have to work out how to get the full effect without him. So after we visit my cousin Dougl, it's back to practice." Karl shrugged at Lancos, "The offer's still open to run the lights for us, when we go on tour. But that won't be for a few more weeks." Feeling the subject was ended there, Lancos scouted around for some breakfast of his own. He found some oatmeal and a few sausages that looked appealing, and grabbed some milk to drink. He gave a bit of the milk and a dish of raw chicken livers to Bast, out of caring and to stop the mewing she'd began once she smelled the food. The warrior stratched her ear, finding her speaking a bit awkward still, and verging on annoying, when it had been nearly-constant. But he gracefully accepted it, satisfied that the cat was happy. As they were finishing, 'Raf came in. "Little Rat's up now, Lancos, if you want to see her." "Ok, thanks.". The warrior was again led into the hall of doors, though deeper than he had been before. As he passed, he read some of the doors, once he remembered exactly how to do so. There was the familiar "Game Room 2: Beach"; one marked "Kardia"; one for "Rhythm Song". Finally, they came to "Little Rat", and inside, the girl and Kev were sitting down, playing some kind of card game. "Kev, Raye's got some chores with your name on them." 'Raf said. Kev got up with a sigh. He waved goodbye to Little Rat, with a look on his face like he had just been sentenced to Death Row. The satyrlion ignored the behavior as he sent Kev on his way. "Ok, Lancos, here's your Rat. Just be sure to let one of me or Raye know before you leave." "Thanks again, and I'll be sure to do that." Lancos stated, entering the room and partially closing the door behind him. The moment Little Rat saw the ranger, she got up and hugged him. "Nice to see you, too." Lancos said, happily returning the affection. "So, what has my favorite little girl been up to?" Little Rat blushed a bit at the complement. "Lotsa stuff, Mister Lancos. Watched da fireworks, hepped out ar'Elya in da garden, goofed off with Kev..." The warrior's grin widened at that last part, knowing 'goofing off' to often be a synonym for 'getting in trouble'. "Sounds like you're enjoying this place. I'd hoped you would," he said while stroking Bast softly. "Yeah, it's better dan Low City; no slavers, no white worms, an' best of all, nobody like Gutt Man," she countered. She reached out to Bast carefully. When the cat showed no signs of aggression, she began to pet it slowly. Lancos tried not to show any reaction to the comment, but a small frown found its way to his face. "About the Gutt Man. Uh, I'm not sure how to put this, so I'll just tell you of recent events." The warrior related to her the whole of his battle with Gutt Man, leaving out none of what had been done or said or implied. He concluded with, "So, I want you to be careful. Try not to leave the house area often, and certainly not without someone like 'Raelf or I." "I can take care a myself. Kev's been showin' me somma dem fightin' moves. I don't go nowhere wifout no one no more anyhow. What 'bout you. Mebbe da Gutt Man is gonna get you too. Ain't you scart?" Her little forehead crinkled in worry. "Same as you, I suppose. Tell you what; I'll contact you if I think I need help with Gutt Man or some other foe, and you can do the same." Lancos smiled at this, hoping it would make Little Rat feel valuable, while keeping her from going out on her own. "Dat's a deal." she agreed, though she certainly had no current intentions of anything like the ranger worried about. "I bets ya could take carra him yourself, bein' a knight an' all. I just wonderin' if you is gonna kill him." The warrior's grin disappeared. He paused for a second, exhaling a sigh, unsure of exactly how to express himself. "I really don't know, Little Rat. The moral thing would be to take him to jail -- to expose his crimes, and maybe even help prevent their like in Low City. But you saw how resilent he was, and if there again comes a chance to kill him when it looks like he'll escape, next time I might not hestitate. It's a hard decision to make -- unlike those daemons, who were evil through and through --, but I've become too involved in this to not see it to some end." There was a pause, before Lancos started up again, a hint of his former smile returning. "It's too bad, too. Just when I was thinking of taking you outdoors, of getting you more used to nature." "I ain't never been to da Outside before," Little Rat replied, using the term Low City children used for any place not Generica. "And I can't imagine growing up in Low City. But it's possible." "I'll go if dere ain't gonna be no flyin' t-crocs dat is gonna cook me wif dere fire breathin'. Izzit safe Mr. Lancos?" "As safe as Low City, or Generica itself. And as dangerous, although both in different ways. And of course, for each it's best to have a guide." They exchanged a knowing smile, making the arrangement virtually guaranteed. "Has ya really spent dat much time Outside, Mister Lancos?" Little Rat asked after a second. "Virtually since birth." "Oh? When was ya born?" "I'll be 28 this year, though I couldn't tell you the exact date. My parents said I was born on the day the leaves in the area turn red. Then again, that's what people said about all the Erredans with red hair -- it's part of the history of the name." "Said? Dey don't say it no more?" "No, I'm the only one left." "I guess I'm like dat too, though I doesn't know if my name's got anytin' like dat. Ar'Elya said she'd find it, but I gotta find sufmin to give for it. I is so used ta my name dat I donno if I want a nutter one." Lancos frowned a bit. "I'm sort of surprised just asking isn't enough. I might offer some suggestion, but I'd bet you'd rather do it yourself." He paused, to acknowledge the nod Little Rat gave. "Right; so all I can say to you is give them your love, give them your ear, give them your time, and that'll always be a perfect gift." Little Rat smiled wide, and paused, words catching in her throat. "I think you is cool, Mr. Lancos," she choked out, then flushed bright red. Lancos realized that it was probably the closest she had ever come to expressing her love to anyone. Her tone told a thousand tales of the love between friends, or perhaps, almost, the love between a parent and child. "I love you too." Lancos replied, with the same sentiment. "And I _will_ see you again. Soon." They hugged for a minute, like they had when Lancos entered, before the warrior stood up to leave. Love and Peace and Young Friends, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader Date: Wed, 28 Jul 1993 11:02:04 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93209.110204ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [L&S] [New Character] Wraith ADMIN: This takes place on the night of the [MG] battle with Mar. Characters Mentioned: Luthor: Half-Golden Elf Shadow Mage Serene: Human Fog Dancer/Barmaid Mista: Serene's 9 month old daughter Lex: 'Raelf's all-knowing time brother 'Raf: 'Raelf's satyrlion time brother Wraith: New Character It was well into the night when Luthor and Serene decided to walk to the Dragon's Inn. Lex had told Serene that she would be needed there due to an unexpected and unusually large crowd...coming back from an all-day concert given courtesy of 'Raf's band. Luthor decided to join her for two reasons. Primarily because he hadn't been to the inn in quite some time, but also because he wanted to give Lex and Erik their privacy. Now, with Mista strapped across Luthor's chest, they entered the inn. It was loud, smokey, and extremely crowded. Luthor leaned close to Serene's ear and said, "I think I'll wait outside with Mista until things settle a bit, okay?" Serene nodded and watched Luthor leave, then she began looking around for signs of the inn's owners. Immediately, Mary caught her eye and motioned for her to come over. "Serene, dearest. I hate to ask you this, but --" Serene interrupted, "I'll work tonight. I can see you need me." "Bless you child." Mary smiled thankfully and handed her an apron. --OO--OO-- Luthor sat with his back to the wall outside the inn, talking quietly to Mista. His BLACK cloak blended into the darkness of the Generican night making him nearly invisible to all but the most keen of sight. He watched the patrons enter and leave the inn, looking for a familiar face, but most of his time was spent looking at the stars. This was not his world. The constellations here were unfamiliar, BUT since this was going to be his home for a while, he decided to get to know the stars. He pointed one cluster out to Mista: ' . . o , . o "I think I'll call that one the 'Silver Warrior'. See, there's the body with the wings stretched out. And that one: . . o ' I'll call Rachel and Joshua after my wife and son..." Luthor continued with the naming, amusing Mista more with the tone of his voice than the actual content of his words. Every once in a while, Luthor would speak the musical language of the Golden Elves, much to Mista's delight. A glint of golden skin caught Luthor's eye. I was one of the partons about to enter the inn. He called out in his native language, "Ho, friend, wait a moment!" The figure that turned in response to Luthor's call was not Elven. He appeared to be of human descent, but with golden skin and completely black eyes that seemed to glow with a dark radiation. Strange, but not evil. Luthor reverted back to the language of humans, "Sorry. I had assumed you to be one of my kind. My apologies." When the man spoke, his voice was young, but it held the edge of fatigue, "That's alright, most people don't even speak to me. Your language is quite interesting though. Where are you from?" Luthor got to his feet. "Excuse me for my rudeness, I am Luthor Anside, of the Anside clan of Cormyr." Luthor bowed low, being careful of Mista. When he rose from his bow, he introduced the stranger to the child, "This is Mista of the Fog, my goddaughter." Mista gurgled a greeting. "You may call me Wraith...everyone else does. I'm from Magira originally." Wraith stuck out his hand which Luthor shook as was the human custom. Then he continued, "I was hoping to raise my spirits by visiting the famous Dragon's Inn tonight." "I'm afraid the inn is a little too crowded for me. My companion, Serene, is in there now helping out. The inn is a little understaffed." Wraith looked through one of the inn's stained glass windows. Every seat and every table seemed to be overflowing with people. Even the dark corners seemed to have residents. He began counting the corners and then decided to stop when he passed eight to save his sanity. "It appears so. I guess I'll come back later." Luthor frowned a little. "Why don't you stay outside here with me? It's a lovely night. I'm sure I could get Serene to bring us a few drinks if you'd like." "I'd be glad to." Wriath sat next to Luthor against the inn's wall. "Tell me, how did you get your golden skin?" "I was born with it. My father was from a race called the Golden Elves, a long-lived race of beings whose purpose was to dance and sing and celebrate life. I am much lighter in tone than my father's side of the family since my mother was human. How about you? It's not too often that I see a human with golden skin." Wraith stared at his hand. The memory of his golden skin bobbed to the surface of his troubled mind. "I was at the Magira Academy, testing for my third spell book. During the testing I was confronted by another mage who told me to prove that I was worthy of the power. To his suprise, I defeated him with rather simple spells from my first book. Unfortunately, I casted too many spells to close together. I was so weak that I could hardly stand. "It was then that my brother arrived. The defeated mage cast a spell on me to make me think that everyone was my enemy. When my brother rushed to aid me, I drew my golden knife and stabbed him. At that moment, the spell was broken. I saw my brother lying on the ground at my feet, dead by my own hand. "I felt a surge of cold go through my weak body and I collapsed. When I came to, I was as you see me now. My skin had turned gold and my eyes dark with the glow you see in them. The eyes serve as a reminder that I am only mortal and should not quest for immortal power...and to remind me that things are not always as they seem. The skin is a 'gift' from the defeated mage. It robbed me of ALL my emotions except for the love of my brother and respect for those who respect me." An odd silence fell between Luthor and Wraith. Luthor wanted to express his sympathy toward Wraith's loss, but couldn't find the words. Just then, Serene opened the door and handed them each a drink. "A glass of apple wine from the finest vineyards in Specifica of the Spices, a glass of white wine from beyond the Realms portal for the gentleman, and a bottle of warm milk for my favorite little whisp." Serene reached down and touched her daughter's cheek. Luthor took the bottle of milk and handed it to Mista, who was *almost* able to feed herself. "So, Wraith, what are you looking for in Generica?" Luthor asked. He took a sip of wine and settled in for a long talk. Wraith was a little startled by the question. He paused a moment to gather his thought and calmly replied, "I am looking for an end to my sight of the aging process. When you look at people, you see them as any other man, but when I look at them, all I can see is them aging, dying, and decaying before me. It's not a pleasant sight." "Then I think you have come to the right place. There are beings from all over the multiverse in this city and more than one is unaging. In addition, I have heard of a woman who is skilled at breaking curses...she might be of some help to you. Cheer up my new friend...and welcome to Generica!" Love and Peace and Hospitality, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader From: info@ccsvax.sfasu.edu Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Newbie for hire Message-ID: <1993Jul28.095104.5959@ccsvax.sfasu.edu> Date: 28 Jul 93 09:51:04 CST Hello there, I just came across your newsgroup and I was wondering how a person would go about getting started on it. It all sounds rather interesting and different. I would greatly appreciate any help that someone could give me on this problem of mine. Thank you, David Mooney z_mooneydh@ccsvax.sfasu.edu If you find yourself thinking about real life just get on the net and all the aspects of real life will fade away. MagicHutchHeader Date: Wed, 28 Jul 1993 11:15:30 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93209.111530ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: [New Character] Wraith I should have mentioned in the previous post that Wraith is not my character. He belongs to a_yachinicpc@ccsvax.sfasu.edu. He is a newcomer to APDI, but unfortunately, his life here shall be short-lived. He is losing access to his computer account very soon (tomorrow), but wanted to leave something (in this case, someone) behind. Now, I can see a couple of options here: 1. There are any lurkers out there who don't have an idea for a new character, but would like to start one on APDI, you could take control of Wraith and run him as your own. E-mail me if you're interested. 2. I keep control of Wraith and run him along with my other 4 major and 3 minor characters. (Included in this is a character named Martin who will soon be introduced for the [Spinoff] thread.) Love and Peace and Undead, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [MG] Night On the Town, part 1 Message-ID: References: <93207.102811ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Date: Wed, 28 Jul 1993 19:06:17 GMT [ADMIN] this is another one of the continuing Erik-Lex romance. We're still looking for a title for the thread. ELR? Also this crosses over into GATM. Thanks to Dreamer for his part in all this. === There was a butterfly on his dresser. It had huge wings, at least a half-hand across, in iridescent gold and silver. It was spinning a cocoon, which butterflies seldom do. The wings detached and drifted to the floor, chiming softly, and the cocoon grew up over the top of the butterfly's head. It elongated, visibly, stretching and pulsing as the creature within it metamorphosed. After a few moments, it split, and what came out was a cylinder of thin parchment paper, which unrolled and fell into Erik's hand, revealing a note written with a very black ink. please meet me tonight at the Dragon's Inn, at the first bell of evening, for dinner and music, followed by a visit to Ale House for an evening of light entertainment, and a concert by Rhythm Song. Lex Erik couldn't help but smile. All that effort to deliver a simple message. There were easier ways, but this one had style. The invitation sounded wonderful; a chance to get away from his research and spend a night on the town. He picked up the discarded wings of the butterfly and placed them gently between the cover and the first page of his current diary (volume 32). Then, Erik grabbed a quill from his writing desk and wrote on the back of the parchment: Lex, I'd be delighted to go. See you tonight. All Here Bound In Truth, -Erik- He crumpled the parchment into a small ball and walked over to a window. He gathered the forces of probability and released the ball. "THIS COULD FIND LEX" he said shaping the forces to his will. It was wisked away by a sudden ocean breeze. A few minutes later, Lex's sparring at the lighthouse was interrupted by the sight of a ball of parchment. It rolled up to Lex's foot and rested. He ignored it, for the moment, concentrating on repelling Karl's attempts to bash his head in with the quarterstaff. Little Rat looked up from her kneeling position on the lighthouse lawn, and saw the paper arrive. Then, when the exercise ended and Lex made no move to pick it up, she spoke, "Ain't you gonna look at da paper Mr. Lex? Mebbe it gots some secrets or sumfin'. Mebbe it's wanna dem pirate maps dat gots da buried jangles." Lex smiled and reached down and put the parchment in a pocket. "I already know what's in it, Rat. It tells me about a treasure but not the kind you can spend." --OO--OO-- The Dragon's Inn was more quiet than usual, the adventurers seemed to be somewhere else tonight. Lex gave a nod to Jolly Roger, and smiled to himself at the man's skull-and-crossbone eyes. A thought occurred to him -- the cyberware that made those eyes was the same that made Kardia's eyes, they might be from the same world. He put together a note for Kardia to warn her of the possible presence of another person from her home, and made a close study of Roger for a few minutes, noting the structures of his cyberware, how it blended with his body. The details could be a clue to whether they were from ... The "Gift" kicked in. He knew, and he was completely disgusted to know, what Roger's strengths were, his weaknesses, what way to best attack him to subdue, enslave, kill. He closed his eyes and looked away, trying to focus his elemental perception away from the man as well. Too late. He forced the Gift to examine further: the best way to heal him, what would make him stronger and more flexible. It twisted around, showed him the man's weapons, his skills. Again, Lex turned the focus to the positive: he knew what Roger was doing, that he had been fighting against apparently soulless monstrosities, that he had joined with an enclave of sylvan elves, to defend the borders of their faerie shadowland, that he had friends, lovers... NO! give the man his privacy! Fortunately Erik walked in. Lex sighed happily. Erik's field of twisty probabilities made the Gift fade after a few minutes. He stood and hugged the GREY-clad man and they sat again at the table. Dinner was something special. Mary had made them a spiced fish and baked starch-roots and a fresh pie. The pie got lots of looks, and many requests from other tables. "Did you sleep well?" Erik asked, "You looked really tired when you left ShadeHaven last night." "Don't sleep," Lex replied. "Not a good thing to do where I'm from." "Oh. How do you dream, then?" An image of clouds rushing across an azure sky came to Erik's mind. He dismissed it as another side- effect of messing with chaos all his life. "Ah. We play. I'll show you later tonight, if you want." "Sure, I guess. I just can't imagine missing out on dreams. I have some bizarre ones." "Yeah. Like, last night. I promise, Erik, I'll not eat you alive. Besides, it's not losing your _self_ as much as becoming part of a new self." Lex stared at Erik for a minute, his eyes going the color of clouds in early morning. Erik's dream from the previous night came to him in a flood. With Lex sitting right across from him, it didn't seem nearly as terrifying. Slightly embarassed, he looked for a way to change the subject. He cut a piece of pie for himself and one for Lex. Lex took a bite and said, "Oh man, this stuff would be great with ice cream." Erik smiled, "Do you want some? THEY MIGHT HAVE ICE CREAM." He winked at his companion while the ressonance of ShadowMagic still hung in the air. A few minutes later, a confused Mary placed a scoop on each piece of pie. "I don't know how it got there...you were right Erik. It was stuck in the back behind the emergency ice cubes." Lex dug in, "Excellent, french vanilla!" He narrowed his eyes for a moment, and waved a quick gesture over their plates. The pie warmed suddenly, the ice cream chilling to compensate. "That's better. Y'know, when I was living on Earth before I met 'Raelf, I couldn't eat like this," he grinned. "I had to be really careful or I'd lose my definition." Erik was shocked. "You'd fall apart? That's terrible!" Lex spent the next hour trying to explain weight lifting. --OO--OO-- After dinner, Lex led Erik to Ale House, almost dragging him along the road in his eagerness to get there, bouncing up and down and jumping off of stairs and frightening the horses. Erik was reminded of a child on a sugar-high. Ale House was a strange bit of architecture. A broad, green lawn, with yellow-burning citronella torches to drive away the insects, lots of outdoor chairs and tables. A pair of strolling minstrels, doing some business among the groups seated outside. The house itself, an old building in a severe style, narrow, but with a wide front door, and high-peaked roof. It butted up against the sheer rock face of the hill behind it, where a long-ago catastrophe had removed a third of the hill. It almost perfectly defined the border between the more elegant Merchant's Hill district and the industry and commerce of the Port district. It was noisy inside the place. Lex waved at the doorman and the cuddlegirl behind the reception desk, and led Erik through the maze of tables to where the back wall would be, if the place really had one. The room opened up into a cavern, a stage on the far end, and game tables lined the walls. The noise mostly came from them, the sound of tiny bells and strange machinery, buzz, rattle, and hum from tiny illusions as they replayed their spiels. About twenty people were playing the machines, most of them from the Merchant classes. The tables had merchants as well, but more of them were outlanders, here for a little excitement and a visit to the cuddlecribs. And a number of sailors and dockworkers, but they were more at the card tables and the dice, than the machines or the big wheel. Erik noticed one woman in particular. She held a small pouch of silver coins that she fed into one of the buzzing and flashing machines as if she was in a trance. Her clothes were tattered and torn. She looked as if she hadn't been eating well. Erik guessed that the money in the pouch was all she had. He just couldn't shake the impression that she was someone's mother. "Those games are _not_ random," Erik muttered as an aside to Lex. "I know," he replied, eyes gleaming, "but they're fair." As Erik passed her, he purposely brushed the machine. His field of twisted probability affected it. Behind him, he could hear the woman's excitement and her shouts about "hitting the jackpot". As he turned back to see her, his heart sank. She collected all the silver, then fell back into her trance and fed the machine again. He looked away. At least she had been happy for a moment. "She's getting better," Lex whispered. "Used to sell herself, or her kids, in the streets to pay for the habit. Ale says she's been keeping the kids fed and off the street, and she's down to an hour a night." Erik looked askance at the woman. The bell sounded, and she sighed, and collected the remnant of her jackpot, then headed towards the door, sagging like a punctured balloon. The tables around the stage and catwalk weren't especially full, and Lex took Erik to one that was right next to the catwalk. "This is the best seat for when the band comes out." Almost as soon as they were seated, a good-looking young man in waiters' attire delivered drinks to their table -- an especially old and hoary mead that had a hint of fruit in it. "Wow, Lady Ale's going all out for you," Lex grinned. Erik frowned. "I don't understand." "She's got the cuddleboys waiting table for us." "This isn't usual?" "No, she usually has the cuddlegirls who are being trained work the tables. Most of the customers here are sailors, any male bonding they want to do happens on ship. They come here for girls, for a good time gambling and for the floor shows." "So where do the boys come in?" Erik smiled at the waiter who had come back with a bowl of crisped grain pancakes, cut into triangles, and a salsa similar to what they'd had the night before. The waiter was definitely trying to flirt with him. "There's a private club over by the river on the north side, where the ladies of quality go to get away from their husbands and lovers. It caters completely to their fantasies. Quite a change from the usual way things happen here -- women give up a lot of their rights when they marry." "Even the wealthy ones?" "Yeah, in some ways its worse for them." A pleasant silence settled over the table as the house lights dimmed briefly, signalling the coming performance. Erik was looking forward to the band. He had heard them play briefly on the Founder's Day and found their style of music to be refreshing, especially after hearing nothing but elven ballads for the past few hundred years. Erik turned to see that Lex was distracted. "What's the matter Lex? Something bothering you?" "No. Well, sort of. It's just that I'm not much of a romantic and I'm afraid that I'm going to screw something up...with us I mean." "I'm having a great time so far. Just relax. I'll tell you what. For now, we'll just do things that we both enjoy. No pressure. Okay?" Lex's mood brightened. "Deal. So, what do you want to do tomorrow?" "Let's get through tonight first ... I think the band's about to begin." The lights went down and the curtain went up. In the semi-darkness, Erik reached under the table and held Lex's hand. Lex smiled and moved their hands to the top of the table. The band started with a pure percussion set. They followed with an acapella rendition of an outland song, loosely translated, with Anna singing a breathy soul beat: "You can't hurry love, no you just have to wait ..." Before the song finished, the waiter delivered a note to the table. Lex read the note, and leaned over to whisper in Erik's ear. "Something's up ... wanna come see?" Erik nodded. They moved through the now-crowded room towards the hostess' desk. The hostess was still shaking a little from shock. "He came right up through here, I hit the bouncer button." She pointed to the center of the desk. "Who came up, Aralee?" Lex' voice was quiet and calming. "That halfling fellow, I saw him here last week talking to Lady Ale." "Krupp Faraway?" "Yes, that's him. Why doesn't Lady Ale come?" "She's probably busy right now," Lex replied, soothingly. "I'll handle the ghost, you take your break and calm down a bit. We'll get Lise to cover for you, ok?" "Thanks, Mister 'Raelf." The hostess followed the waiter to the back room while one of the girls from the floor came to her post at Lex's gesture. Lex led Erik through a back doorway, and down a long stone passage. The passage ended at a tee-intersection, and a room with iron bars at one end. Inside the room, in a glowing sphere, floated the transparent form of Krupp Faraway, Private Detective. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [ADMIN] How big _IS_ Generica? Message-ID: Date: Wed, 28 Jul 1993 21:03:13 GMT Hi, folks. ...sage has been wheedling at me to do a bmp drawing of Generica, and I've come across a few interesting problems. First, how big IS the place? How many people? How much square mileage? Second, we have three layers (at least) of historical building and rebuilding. The Shunned Center (and Buff) are the remnant of the oldest part of Generica, but Glorshanned Keep is also fairly old, and there has to be some interesting stuff around the harbor. Also, when a city gets too crowded, the people build on outside. The dynamics that created the Buff don't happen when it's OK to build on the outside, so there MUST have been some external force keeping the Buffers there for the first two generations or so. Like, the presence of armed enemies. Walled cities don't just spring up without them. So the next question: How big ARE the walls? Are there farms and dwellings outside? I'm assuming none to the south, because of a fairly steep canyon attached to a small but turbulent river that runs the length of the wall, with all the graveyards and public parks and small outdwellings located south of there. I'm also assuming that there is a small area around the East gate that has caravanseries and some Inns and things, such that in peacetime, farmers and merchants can do their travelling to there. Hmm. Problem. With a river south of the wall, some recent posts develop consistency clashes. So there have to be some footbridges from place to place across the river, in addition to the big bridge that the main South Gate is set behind. Anyone want to send me estimates? I'm leaning towards a city of just over 200,000 people, with about three miles of wall on the south, two on the north (thanks to natural escarpment along the seacoast) and about two and a half miles on the east side. The west side has no walls, since that's where the water is, and the harbor is well controlled. MagicHutchHeader From: albert@chain.ssctr.bcm.tmc.edu (Rick Jones) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [ADMIN] How big _IS_ Generica? Date: 28 Jul 1993 21:44:08 GMT Message-ID: <236rv8$dti@gazette.bcm.tmc.edu> References: In article hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) writes: >Hi, folks. Hi Steve. ;) >...sage has been wheedling at me to do a bmp drawing of Generica, and I've >come across a few interesting problems. >First, how big IS the place? >How many people? How much square mileage? In a semi-related note. What kind of world is Nexus? Flat/round/torus/hypercube? Have people mentioned how many moons, and if they have names? I'll take whatever sort of astronomical notes people have and forward them on to whoever keeps the Atlas. -- Rick Jones Heck with all of this. albert@bcm.tmc.edu I'm going to Disneyworld. Systems Support Center (T - 2 days and counting) Voice: 713-798-7352 -me MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: wolf@cheshire.oxy.edu (Clinton Richard Wolf) Subject: Re: [ADMIN] How big _IS_ Generica? Message-ID: <1993Jul29.001206.12780@cheshire.oxy.edu> References: Date: Thu, 29 Jul 1993 00:12:06 GMT In article hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) writes: >Hi, folks. > >...sage has been wheedling at me to do a bmp drawing of Generica, and I've >come across a few interesting problems. > Well, first of all, correct me if I'm wrong, but there's already a map of Generica... of course, I don't think it's bmp (whatever that is... I need a computerese-English dictionary), but it could help, yes? >First, how big IS the place? > Bigger than a breadbox? I'd say probably about Waterdeep size or thereabouts... it's basically the biggest city on the West Coast of the continent... > >Second, we have three layers (at least) of historical building and >rebuilding. The Shunned Center (and Buff) are the remnant of the oldest >part of Generica, but Glorshanned Keep is also fairly old, and there has >to be some interesting stuff around the harbor. > Right, but GK and the harbor are about 1000 years younger than the Center, I believe, and that's just the Center buildings that survived the cataclysm. The Center is _old_. The Buff' is a mixture of Center architecture and newer (though low class) structures... see my re-post coming up below... >Also, when a city gets too crowded, the people build on outside. The >dynamics that created the Buff don't happen when it's OK to build on >the outside, so there MUST have been some external force keeping the >Buffers there for the first two generations or so. Like, the presence >of armed enemies. Walled cities don't just spring up without them. > You must not have been here when I first posted my history of the Buff'... for everyone's edification, here it be. It should answer your questions... -- Clint, your Ancient Generican History Expert (self-proclaimed ;) ) -------------------- THE BUFF': A ring shaped zone separating the human horrors of the Low City from the unnameable ones of the Shunned Center, the Buff' is the home of Gen- erica's poorest and most forgotten citizens. The Buff' came about as a result of the rapid growth of Generica during the reign of the first Merchant Prince, Horowitz the Savvy. Horowitz' driving ambition was to make Generica the largest and most powerful port on the Great Blue, and he had more than enough brains, money, power, and ruthlessness to make his dream a reality. Generica waxed into a prosperous city under his rule, and remains so to this day. However, not everyone enjoyed the benefits of this new prosperity. As in any rapid project, things are forgotten, or left aside to be dealt with later. Horowitz and his fellow merchants bought up and developed huge tracts of land to use in building their industries, squeezing out a number of the poor farmers and fisherman who had been ekeing out a living in the largely rural countryside. The Shunned Center was the only piece of real estate spared this buying spree. Not because of any superstition on the merchants' parts, of course... it was simply a bad investment. No one wanted to live there or build a business there. And lots of accidents happened, too, making it a High Risk zone. But where to draw the line? How to make the rich of the city feel safe? How could the Center be used to Horowitz' advantage? His problem was solved when an indignant coalition of people who had been evicted from their homes and farms showed up at his mansion, demanding to know where they were going to live, now that textile factories were replac- ing the houses they had dwelled in for generations... And Horowitz smiled... He offered a simple choice to the farmers. Buy a new home, leave the city...or... There was this one plot of land. A big one. One Horowitz would be glad to share with the poor. For free. Perhaps they smelled a rat. Perhaps not. Some did pack up and leave, but most, unwilling to abandon the lands they had grown up in, took up on the offer. Thousands of people were escorted to their new homes on the des- ignated day. Their new homes on the rim of the Center... They were shocked. They were horrified. A few tried to turn back, only to find that the City Guard had cordoned off the area, and were instructed by Horowitz to kill anyone who tried to leave. The blockade lasted for three months, until the duped poor decid- ed to make the best of their situation, and settled in. Over the years, as new immigrants flooded the city, the poor sec- tion swelled, as those without money or means quickly found themselves with no- where else to go. Horowitz declared that the zone was made up of 'deadbeats and criminals', and withdrew city services from it, citing an 'unneccessary drain of resources...' With no sanitation or police, things quickly degenerated. Crime became rampant, and the only law that of the biggest sword and the sharp- est mind. Out of the greed and hypocrisy of an uncaring leader, the Low City was born. Yet, even within the Low City, a strange heirarchy of wealth came to be. As one got nearer and nearer to the Center, the dwellings and the people became even poorer, and the air of hopelessness more pervasive. Eventually, one reaches a border where the mood of the Low City disappears, to be replaced by something else. It's not quite the Center, not just yet, but there's a definite difference. A change of priorities. Its residents are destitute and hopeless, yet they are some of the proudest and smartest people in Generica. Horowitz once joked gloatingly about the 'Buffer Zone' he'd created by working them ov- er. They adopted the term. The Buff' is their home, and no one is going to kick them out of their home, ever again... Architecturally, the Buff' is a crumbling mishmash of the remains of Old Generica and the 'new' shacks and hovels built by generations of Buff- ers. Unlike the Center, though, there is a definite pride infused in the edif- ices. The Buffers work hard to maintain what little they have, and cherish it dearly. Here, there are no gang wars. There are no territorial squabbles. There is none of the self-destruction of the Low City. The Buffers are a bonded peo- ple. They have to be, because of the terrors they are sandwiched in between. They are not a violent people. This is as much economic as anything. The aver- age Buffer counts himself lucky to own a dagger, much less a sword or mace. But the Buffers are strong, and fast, and smart. The continous challenge of living on the Edge for hundreds of years has bred some of the toughest humans Generica has to offer. They know everything that goes on in the Buff'. Noth- ing escapes notice, and news is quickly spread. The average Buffer could tap an alert elf on the shoulder as the first sign of his presence. If a Buffer wants to hide from you, don't bother looking. If you've somehow made them ene- mies, get the heck out of Dodge. They may not have many weapons of steel and iron, but they are far from helpless. In the realm of Urban survival, no one is their equal, and a falling chunk of masonry or a cleverly concealed pit can kill you just as easily as a sword blow. But the Buffers are not quick to anger, and so long as outsiders leave them alone, they reciprocate the favor. Many criminal organizations have hideouts or headquarters here. Those that wish to stay know better than to al- ienate the Buffers, although they would be quite surprised to know that the Buffers know every detail of their organizations, and have secret exits and entrances to the same. And if (god help you) you need to go into the Center, or get something out, contact a Buffer, because no human knows the unholy maze of the Center better than the Shunrunners... MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Roaming] Interlude Two Message-ID: <237o51INNbna@news.gac.edu> From: Thorr-kan, the White Minotaur, and Horde Father-Confessor Date: 29 Jul 1993 05:45:05 GMT In the Slums, something stirs. It is a being of darkness, a creature created solely to feed off the living. Once, aeons ago, it also walked in the light. But than the Corruptor came with Her honeyed words and tempting promises. The being believed in Her and gave himself over. His betrayal cost his people greatly. Scars from his treachery still mar the Great Forest if one knows where to look. But he was finally driven out, sent fleeing towards his Owner in agony and disgrace. In Her infinite cruelty, She sentenced him to sleep indefinite. The reach of the Great Mother is long, indeed. But, at long last, he has awoken. The world around him has changed greatly. Where he was laid to rest is now a great urban center, lacking the nature from which he sprang. However, there are possibililies in this wilderness if one is willing to look. He is, because far to the southeast, another prescence is stirring: his sister, she who faced him so long ago. Something important must be afoot to make her act so hastily. For though she is aware of his prescence, she continues to do nothing about it. Instead, her powers are spent protecting her faerie subjects from a threat she is not able to directly confront. Meanwhile, he grows in power without interference. A little while longer and he will force the confrontation he has been longing for. After her death, let Nexus beware. He is Thorne: treant, mage, vampire. The dark and neglected give him form, savagery and death let him act. She is the Lady: dryad, druidess, immortal. From the light, the open, the caring, she draws her power. Theirs is a war that spans millenia. Its latest battle is about to unfold, catching unaware mortals from across the worlds. In the greater scheme of things, it is little enough. But to this corner of reality, it could be everything. -Matt C. guardian- 1. one who has care of a person or property. 2. In other words, someone who puts their ass between others and danger. ******************************************************************************* Nuke 'til they glow, then shoot 'em in the dark! Matt Cutter, e-mail to mcutter@nic.gac.edu OR mcutter@vax2.gac.edu Gustavus couldn't afford my opinions if they wanted them! ******************************************************************************* MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: rilovegr@sciborg.uwaterloo.ca (Richard Lovegrove) Subject: NEW: Stranger comes to town... Message-ID: Date: Thu, 29 Jul 1993 13:59:31 GMT ADMIN: Introducing a new character to the world! ______ In the beginning, there is only darkness... And Pain. The suffocating stench, the formless seizing terror- Death stalks silent and relentless... A numbing blast of light! RELEASE Washing away everything, the cleansing fires of a white hot sun expand to obliterate Eternity ____ An intricately simple series of concentric rings radiate outwards from a dark oblong center, their motion through time and space frozen beneath a glossy varnish, a growing puddle of warm saliva distorting their symmetry. Struggling to hold on to this fleeting sense of reality, the newest patron of the Dragon's Inn claws his way towards consciousness. Noticing a body sprawled face down at one of his tables, Rowan Littlefair, the proprietor of Generica's most popular pub, was most intrigued. /Where in the Running Plains did he come from?!/ Dropping a towel on the countertop, Rowan squeezes his hefty frame out from behind the bar, and ambles towards his newest potential customer. Groggily, the figure sprawled by the back wall struggles to a more sitting position, propping his head up with both hands, rubbing at his face. Gripped by a sudden longing for the towel he left behind, Rowan tries not to stare at the small puddle of drool resting on the table. "Good morning, stranger." Rowan eyes his guest's short spiky platinum blonde hair and peculiar shade of tan. His words illicit an unexpectedly startled response. "Whoa! Calm down. You're safe here," Rowan soothes in his gruff voice, even though the stranger's momentary look of wide-eyed panic was quickly replaced by one of total disorientation. "I don't allow rough play in my tap room. Your first visit to the Dragon's Inn, ain't it?" "I- think so," the stranger haltingly replies after a thoughtful pause and some odd mumblings. Absently wiping his strong hands dry on his silk shirt, the foreigner glances around the room. "I mean, I don't think recognize the place." His words form more easily. Cool amber eyes return to study the portly barkeep. "Well, in that case: Welcome! I'm Rowan Littlefair, the proprietor of this fine establishment." About to offer a handshake, Rowan eyes the puddle and thinks otherwise. "And who might you be?" "My name's..." The unusual man struggles for a moment, to no avail. Panic momentarily grips his eyes again, causing him to rub his heavy brow in frustration. "That's okay, friend. I'll just call you Stranger for now." Rowan scans the smaller man's clothing for some clue to his identity. His fine dark blue silken shirt and loose-fitting white cotton breeches appeared expensive, but sported no obvious emblems nor insignia. No jewelry was visible, unless you counted that finely crafted dagger sheathed atop his right kneehigh black patent leather boot. The dagger was definitely unique, and worth examining, but Rowan wasn't about to pry. "You just let me know when to call you something different," Rowan continued. Oddly enough, that dagger appeared to be the only item of value Stranger carried, although the peculiar black leather pouch wrapped about his thin waist could easily hide a trinket or two. Almost everything about this man seemed odd or out of place, but lately that had become a frequent trend among the Inn's patrons. "I take it you're not from around Generica?" "Where-" Stranger asks, brushing a hand past the short stiff spikes atop his head, an elbow inching dangerously close to that puddle. "Generica. Right where you are. The City of Generica. Didn't you read the sign on your way in?" "Ah...no... I don't remember seeing a sign..." Stranger turns away, looking almost embarrassed, and notices the puddle obscuring a large knot in the table. "That was a joke, Stranger. Don't mean nothing by it. Look, maybe I'll give you some time to come to your senses," he smiles sardonically. "Can I get you anything?" "A jug of water would be great. I'm very thirsty..." Stranger sits back, rubbing the last bit of moisture from his chin, scanning his hands briefly. "Sure. Comin' right up." Shaking his head, Rowan strolls back to the bar. A short while later he deposits a water jug and empty tankard beside the man, and wipes of the table. "Thanks," Stranger nods. "No problem. Enjoy." Left alone again, Stranger pours himself a mug of the cool, clear liquid, and stares into it thoughtfully. Catching broken reflections of a friend he once knew, but has long forgotten, Stranger struggles with the most basic philosophical questions. Who am I? What am I doing here? And were the hell is here, anyway? Generica: Never heard of it... ------- ADMIN: Well, this is my first post to this group. Any and all comments are welcomed! If you have a character in the DI tap room, or you would like to discuss adding a character to your thread, please contact me. Thanks, on behalf of Stranger: Richard Ian Lovegrove MagicHutchHeader Date: Thu, 29 Jul 1993 11:35:22 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93210.113522ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: The Nexus System (Size of Generica) I would say that Generica has more than 200,000 citizens. I would be more willing to say 500,000. It is a huge city in comparison to the others of the Known Lands. I'd say definately 500,000 permanent residents with the city swelling to at least 800,000 during heavy trading. As a referent, didn't London of the 1700's have over a million people? I think Generica is wealthy and peaceful enough to support these kinds of numbers. On the subject of Nexus, I would say that it's larger than Earth (to allow for additions later). It should probably be roughly spherical because none of the travellers have said otherwise. I do think that we have some literary licence with the moons though since there are a great variety of numbers, sizes, and orbits in our own solar system. I suggest the following: Two moons, one large one, that orbits Nexus and a small one that orbits the large moon. To visualize this, equate Nexus to our Sun. The large moon is Earth, and the small moon is our moon. Earth goes around the Sun. The Moon goes around Earth. The large moon goes around Nexus. The small moon goes around the large moon. So, what about other planets in the system? Are there any others that are inhabited? What about comets, rings, constellations, etc... I see another weekly ADMIN post coming on here... ADMIN: The Nexus System Or I could always add it to the FAQ. Feedback is manditory! Love and Peace and Astronomy, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: ADMIN: The Nexus System (Size of Generica) Message-ID: <1993Jul29.205309.10436@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> References: <93210.113522ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Date: Thu, 29 Jul 93 20:53:09 GMT In article <93210.113522ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> The Dreamer writes: >I would say that Generica has more than 200,000 citizens. I would >be more willing to say 500,000. Well, I suppose, but we'd need like a 20 square-mile city, if not more. I have to do some research to be sure... >As a referent, didn't London of the 1700's have over a million people? I had kinda thought that we were more in the 1400s, socio-technologically. For a referent you'd really want to use the population of Venice. >On the subject of Nexus, I would say that it's larger than Earth (to allow >for additions later). It should probably be roughly spherical because >none of the travellers have said otherwise. I've been banking on a spherical Nexus, with, say, Generica at about he same place as europe, cathay where it's suppposed to be, and Bismania and the West continent near the americas (This puts the dark continent in the south atlantic ocean, and alpha in mid-africa, I think plenty of room for more stuff.) > I do think that we have some >literary licence with the moons though since there are a great variety >of numbers, sizes, and orbits in our own solar system. >I suggest the following: Two moons, one large one, that orbits Nexus >and a small one that orbits the large moon. To visualize this, equate >Nexus to our Sun. The large moon is Earth, and the small moon is our >moon. Earth goes around the Sun. The Moon goes around Earth. >The large moon goes around Nexus. The small moon goes around the large moon. Sounds wierd. I think we'd have to back the big moon away from nexus so that we can get the little moon in orbit without gravitational interference. UNLESS, you want to put the tiny moon in polar orbit over the big moon. so that at certain times of the month you'd see the little moon describing a circle around the big one, and at other times going before-behind like normal orbits, but in the vertical plane. Or always in a circle around the big moon. I dunno, is there a physicist in the house? (willing to do the math) >So, what about other planets in the system? Are there any others that >are inhabited? What about comets, rings, constellations, etc... We need a thread for this. MagicHutchHeader Date: Thursday, 29 Jul 1993 11:55:04 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93210.115504344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] An Image of You [ADMIN: Another of the individual battles, this one posted for Stilt Man. We're almost getting to the end...] Time had continued on, past the time where Kryalla and the illusion of Darvos fought off the daemons as best they could, keeping them away from the other companions, particularly Kaalzic, who seemed to need the defensive help... Kryalla had her problems, yes, but things were not totally out of hand. She would have liked to see how the others were faring, but the Thurlan gnawing at her cloak had the Shrouded One's full attention at the moment. Flames from the Thurlan's maw leapt the length of the ebon Shroud, but the defensive spells on the garment were quite strong enough to avoid any worry. The claws that reached for her heart were much more important, however. Her right arm was trapped in the creature's grip, her katana was on the ground next to her. Her left hand reached for it, finally getting hold of it. She turned back to the daemon with vengeance in her eyes. The creature, seeing she was armed again, stood back from her. Abruptly, something in its core began painfully drawing the daemon's attention, although Kryalla's weapon had not yet struck . . . The Thurlan fell, its carapace already decaying into sickening slime when it struck the ground. Kryalla gathered her surroundings into her awareness. The war-mage who had lead the strike still watched from a distance with grim satisfaction. Pars and Tarkyn were facing off, each holding the other's full attention. Darvos was having troubles with Velric and his shades, but was holding his own well enough. She had lost track of Lancos in the excitement, but the clang of swords on swords and the insane shouts of Gutt Man seemed to indicate both were occupied elsewhere, outside her immediate view. The war-mage, she assumed, must be this BBD. No proof beyond the man's behavior, but it seemed likely. He raised his arms, pointing a strong hand at Darvos, and a bolt of lightning assailed the vampire-hunter's defenses, stressing his battle all the more. Too, BBD turned to Arienne, and a puddle suddenly appeared beneath one foot to slip her traction, throwing her off balance. Only a quick recovery saved her from instant death at the much- transformed Yosef's claws. Kryalla made her decision quickly; while BBD was left alone, he could influence all the battles going on with impunity. BBD looked up from the fracas when a shadow fell across him, and was only barely able to raise his wards to shield him from the talons of the black eagle, fully the size of a man, that descended upon him suddenly. When he regained his wits, he saw the great bird of prey circling around for a second pass. He had seen Kryalla Simuel before, unencumbered after destroying the Thurlan with her magic, and did not see her now. He knew who he faced. The black bird came down for a second strike, but when she reached her target, he no longer stood there. He flew also, in the shape of an encarmined vulture, fully her equal in size. The crimson fluid nearly covered the creature, as if it had just fed upon a large piece of carrion. The battle in the air betwixt the two shape-shifted magi carried them away from the fray happening on the ground and outside the house, and the others were too busy to notice the absence. The two birds clawed and pecked at each other, the eagle striking swiftly and staying carefully out of reach of the vulture's claws, not a single drop of her blood adding to the gore covering the vulture. Yet the blood shed by the vulture did not seem to weaken it, but strengthen it. Too late, she realized that the blood was his strength, not his weakness. On the next pass, the eagle swerved away from the vulture, not striking with claws but with a blast of blue flame called from its mystical lungs, doing little damage against the blood-soaked vulture's hide. However, the juices on his feathers began to dry under this heat, and he realized that the eagle was no longer fooled by his tactic. The vulture looked about for a place to land and continue the battle elsewhere. An empty alley presented itself, and the vulture made its way downward. However, its going was not to be so easy. The eagle dove upon him, causing him to lose control of his flight, striking one of the wings and sending him to the alleyway. The carrion bird tumbled upside-down, his left wing broken, and fell to the earth. His opponent glided gracefully to the ground nearby, resuming her true shape as she landed. The vulture groaned in agony as he resumed his true shape, the injured wing/arm not taking well to the transformation when broken. He placed his other hand upon the break, felt the bones knit swiftly under the healing magic. The moment it was done, his hand went to his scabbard, and his rune-scribed sword was free. Kryalla looked about. None saw them here. The katana was free of its own scabbard, she set in a ready position. BBD held his sword aloft; he wasn't certain where she would strike from first, so he held his blade loosely, looking deceptively unprepared. In one motion, the Shrouded One moved; the katana feinted high before descending at his injured left arm with both hands firm on its hilt. BBD saw the feint, moved to block the second strike, and was struck solidly by a crimson blast of energy coming from his right side. His shields barely held, and his balance was thrown off. His eyes looked about carefully, seeking to see that which naked eyes could not see. The being before him was an illusion, he saw that now. He inwardly admired her skill in executing the complex sword motion with the simulacrum at the same time she prepared the true strike with the mystical lance. But he could not allow this to happen often, or he was dead on his feet. Simple solution. He held his sword at his side, keeping still. His ears heard the scrape of a boot on cobblestones ahead, to his left. He turned to the spot, and sent lightning lashing out to cook the source of the sound. The illusion broke under the strike, and the true Shrouded One appeared, holding her cloak before her, using its protection. The lightning struck the ebon cloth harmlessly, diffusing into sparks on the fabric. Kryalla's eyes narrowed, the duplicate that had made the first feint vanished. BBD smiled in the satisfaction of having outwitted her on this second exchange. Kryalla spun in place, and a fiery shuriken left her hand, hurtling at his head. Reflexively, he ducked, thus leaving him off balance to dodge the second one, aimed at his right ankle. His shields held again, but his nerves were on edge from the confusing attacks. She shifted the katana to her left hand, holding her right out. Instinctively, he tightened the hold of his shields, only to see her lash out left-handed with the blade, its light blue glow betraying its magic. His stiffened shields were butter for the hot knife of her katana blade, and he saw in the flow of magic about the weapon that it had been specially crafted to slice through such defenses. The moment the hole in his shield had been carved, a second mystical blast came at him, striking him full in his chest. He gasped, fearing death. The beam of light burst, exploding into a brilliant kaleidoscope of corruscating energy, doing no physical harm whatsoever. Spots danced before his eyes, the dazzling patterns of light touched off something in his mind. He was swamped in vertigo, and his mind was wrapped in confusion, little of it magical. Her tactics were crazily unorthodoz, and it was difficult to adjust. Blindly, he swung about with his sword at his unseen foe, hoping to at least keep her at a distance while he readied his counterspells for her next strike. Flailing around, he dug his rune-lettered blade into the side of the building in his blindness, imprisoning it tightly in stone. Kryalla did not smile, allowing herself no room for premature truimphant self-assurance. She kept respectfully away from the obviously-magical sword that swung around wildly in an effort to strike her. She held back until he accidently buried his blade in the wall of the house, and abandoned it. She moved in at that time for the kill. A sudden explosion of blue flame, unexpected, leaving no time for her to cover herself with her cloak, burst from every pore of his body. It was not a suicide move, she saw, for he was left unharmed, but the forced of the blast hurled her away from him, her body hitting hard on the side of the building opposite the alley from him. Regrouping, she cursed herself for falling for his trick of playing possum. At this point, some vestige of BBD's natural sight began to return, enough to make out the dark shape of the Shrouded One apart from the white shapes that danced about in his mind. A second bolt of lightning darted from his outstretched finger to follow up the first attack, and this time only part of it hit the cloak. The rest coursed through her body, her innate defenses dealing with some, but not enough to avoid a great deal of pain from the powerful strike. Kryalla noticed he had little artfulness in his direct battle tactics, but the raw power he commanded was sufficient to keep his ground. Groggily, she got to her feet. The war-mage still walked with unsure steps, but he would be ready to fight as well as ever ere long. Kryalls looked about, and could not find her katana. No time to look for it now. Full awareness returned to BBD's features. He traced runes in the air, and something gripped at her mind. His features twisted in astonishment and fury when she kept walking. Apparently he did not expect that the cloak's hood shielded her from such mental magic as the rest of it did from physical strikes. 'How to defeat her, then?' he asked himself. A greem beam hit the cloak, an attack of simple concussive force. It knocked her back, but not off her feet. His eyes narrowed in rage; most other he had used it against had been splattered across the countryside by it. He examined her closely, saw that she had no weapon. Maximizing his mystical protections, he lunged at her. In her grogginess, she could not avoid his charge. "Let's see you cloak prevent me from snapping your slender neck, wench!" he growled through clenched teeth, his hands clasping about her throat as he fell atop her to the ground. In response, her leg thrust up between his, not to strike but to push. He found himself falling over forward, and she slipped from beneath him and back to her feet. His eyes glared murderously at her, but saw that she had a better grasp of her movements now. Blue flames surrounded his fists, and her cloak could not keep them from striking at her ivory-skinned face. The flames sputtered a bit, but enough of them remained to enhance the pain of his blow. A second blast of fire struck her in the chestbone, singeing the black leather beneath the cloak, making it a duller ebon in color. When the third strike passed right through her, he immediately pulled back and raised his shields again to deflect the attack from the true being opposing him. Though he had recognized the illusion before him faster this time, he was forced to again concede her skill in substituting the image for herself so speedily. The flare of white fire that struck him clean on the body went through the shield. With a shock, he realized that the image before him had launched this attack! Not illusion, but intangibility. This was the pure elemental flame, rather than the earthly corruption. It burned at his soul as well as body, particularly the empty sould that went hand-in-hand with evil ways. Agony twisted his features, but she seemed too slow herself to follow up the strike. He beckoned, and his sword freed itself from the wall, hurtling to his grasp. He gripped it firmly in hand, swinging it for the abdomen that was not covered by cloak. Again, the attack passed through her. Not knowing now what to assume, he blindly cast a counterspell, without caring where the attack would come from. It worked. The white flame guttered and went out when Kryalla attempted to strike him with it once more. But the sudden flash of the failed attack announced her appearance to the world, and with all his might he conjured a gigantic chest of energy, its lid opening to swallow her within and imprison her. The chest closed over the spot whence the flame had come, and BBD relaxed, feeling he had her at last, and planning to make her his slave. No! A crimson blast of energy struck him from behind. The flame had been the second feint this time, conjured with the intention to fail. With an incoherent roar of fury, BBD lashed out with the blue flame explosion a second time, and a cry of pain and surprise came whence the third strike had been launched. BBD turned, to find Kryalla lying, blackened and charred, on the ground. He stood over her. -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Michael Sander 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: taz@media.mit.edu (Brian Shea) Subject: [Amaliza] Things aren't so bad, are they? Message-ID: <1993Jul29.233547.436@news.media.mit.edu> Date: Thu, 29 Jul 1993 23:35:47 GMT ADMIN: Things look to be heating up... The sound of dripping is all that disturbs the peace of the empty room. The center of the room is taken up by what looks to be a birdbath, a pedestal with a round basin resting on top, and the basin is filled with water. The similarity ends there, though. Both the basin and the pedestal have runes engraved on every square inch of it, and a soft glow comes from the water, lending a circle of dim illumination. Large shapes hide among the shadows, outlines of shelves full of books, a large mahogany desk, a marble table with jars and vials upon it, and several large chests ranged along the walls of the room. The light does not reach the corners of the room, and there is no telling what dwells among them. The only door to the room is oak with metal bands running across it, and it creaks as someone opens it. A robed figure enters the room, and approaches the pool. The robe is black and heavy, but does not completely conceal the figure's portly build. The figure reaches up with ghost white hands, and lowers his hood, revealing a man with soft features and a receding hairline. His wrings his hands as his eyes try to penetrate the dark corners, and he breaks the silence after a moment. "Are you here?" One moment, the man is alone. The next, another robed and hooded figure stands by the basin, across from the man. The new figure wears a dark red silk robe, is about six and a half feet tall, and has a powerful build. The man starts, and lets out a startled gasp. "I really wish you wouldn't do that," he says, a slight whine to his voice. The figure does not speak, his only reply is to wave a hand over the pool. The glow changes from white to sickly green, but this seems mundane compared to what is revealed as the robe slides up the figure's arm. The hand and arm is covered in shiny black scales, and their are blood red claws instead of fingernails. The man tears his eyes from the figure, and look into the basin. The glow has slowly changed back to white, and a scene has been formed in the basin, which proves to be a scrying device. The scene is dizzying, it is a view of Generica from a great height. It looks like a dark splotch between the Great Blue and the greens of the plains and the Great Forest. The perspective starts to rapidly change, zooming in on Generica, and the man grips the edge of the basin as vertigo sweeps overs him. Another splotch appears at the center of the Great Forest, but disappears almost as quickly as Generica starts to fill the scene. Distinct parts of the city can now be made out, East Gate, Low City, Glorshanned Keep, and others. Hazy blue spots dot the city, obscuring some of the features. One large spot obscures the Shunned Center, and another conceals the are around the Mage's Guild. Just when the man starts to turn a peculiar shade of green, the zoom slows. The city is laid out like a map, only there are tiny specks moving on the map, and those specks are people. The scaled figure waves his hand again, and the pool once again takes on the sickly green glow. The scene starts to change again, and the Low City becomes the focus. The streets and alleys form a labyrinth, and even from above it is hard to find routes between any two points. A small group of people now comes into view, and the scene centers on them. The zoom continues until they are centered in the basin. The group consists of a five men. There is a sylvan elf, a burly red-bearded barbarian, a tall lanky man who is leading them, and two men dressed in black, both looking athletic and very competent. They are walking through the Low City, moving quickly but stealthily. The scrying follows them, and the two watch as the lanky man leaves and the remaining four enter what looks to be a pile of rubble. As they enter, the pool follows them, but becomes steadily fuzzier as they proceed. Suddenly, the scene is gone and all the man sees is his reflection. "The coven is warded?" asks the man. The figure looks up from the pool, and the man takes a step back as a pair of glowing red eyes glare at him from within the depths of the hood. "You truly are a fool," says the figure scornfully, it's voice having a sibilant hiss to it and not sounding human at all. "They will most likely not survive their trip to the coven, but if they do, kill them. I will return in two days." The figure didn't even bother to threaten the man, he knew that no excuses would be accepted. The man clenched his hands together as they started to tremble, and he hoped his voice didn't waver as he said, "It shall be done." The man was then alone in the room, and he collapsed against the basin and started to silently weep. ----- Brian Shea aka aka-user MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan) Subject: Re: [ADMIN] How big _IS_ Generica? Message-ID: <1993Jul30.041315.11887@midway.uchicago.edu> References: <236rv8$dti@gazette.bcm.tmc.edu> Date: Fri, 30 Jul 1993 04:13:15 GMT > In a semi-related note. What kind of world is Nexus? >Flat/round/torus/hypercube? Have people mentioned how many >moons, and if they have names? I'll take whatever sort of >astronomical notes people have and forward them on to whoever >keeps the Atlas. Evidence: Magira and the surrounding area are inhe far north of the Known Lands. This area is described as being very cold. Rameshan, the Rezzian Desert, the Dark Continent and (presumably) the Antilles are to the south, and described as temperate or warm in climate. The description for Cathay puts it far to the west of the Known Lands, across the Great Blue. However, the description for the Silk Road suggests a land route across the continent eastward to Cathay (therefore Cathay is on the same landmass as Generica). These conditions tend to describe a spherical world, although other situations are possible. Perhaps a flat woworld in which for some reason things get colder as one approaches the "north pole" and east-west latitude lines consist of progressively larger conocentric circles around this "pole". I'm sure that if Nexus turns out to be a hypercube or some other perverse geometry that the keeper of the Atlas will chop everybody into tiny bits. You are warned, I'm sure... -- Dennis Brennan djb6@midway.uchicago.edu MagicHutchHeader From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [NEWCOMERS] Rooftop Date: 30 Jul 1993 05:03:53 GMT Message-ID: <23aa3p$7a7@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> A stern, paranoid expression studied the two standing on the wall across from him, wincing at every sound they made. One hand went to his knife while the other formed the sign of greeting. If they recognized the sign and honored it's implications, he could make the attempt once again. For four nights now, he had gone without food. The second climber tapped the shoulder of the first. He repeated the sign of greeting at them. With only the words, "a _thief_!" spoken in the same tone of reverence as that of a child entering a toy store, Michael sprang at the rooftop, his staff shoving off the edge of the wall to add distance and speed. His left foot touched the edge of the roof, and Michael curled around his staff, rolling gracefully to his feet. Something brushed his arm on the way up, but he ignored it, intent on not letting this legend that he had played numerous times disappear on him. The thief had pulled a knife and held it between them defensively. Michael laid his staff on the roof slowly and said, "I'm not going to hurt you." Casey's jaw dropped in terror as Michael extended his hand to the man with the knife as if he was putting it out for a puppy to sniff. Too much noise was being made! When the first climber landed on the roof, it was a wonder that it didn't collapse on him. Blood dripped from his arm as he extended it slowly, his weapon on the roof as if to say he didn't need it. The thief waived his knife as a warning. Leaving was definitely the way to go, but he couldn't turn his back to the first, or let the second out of his peripheral vision. The first withdrew his hand and crouched with a sour look. He kept whispering something in a foreign tongue. Casey muttered under his breath. This was definitely a bad situation. Casey looked at the man on the roof and then at his friend. With three strides down the wall, Casey jumped the small distance to the rooftop. Casey landed squarely on the joint between buildings wall and the roof. With his hands spread wide and his feet spread, he made only a mute thump. The man at the top of the roof cringed as he saw the other one leap from the wall, but still the noise level was barely passable. Amatuer level, but still much better than the other one. The man looked at the new threat and shuddered the man looked almost feral, crouched down on his hands and knees and a smile that betrayed a quiet competence. But still the clothes these two were wearing just looked well out of place for someone climbing a wall this late at night. Casey smiled. /My karate teacher should have us practice on slight inclined surfaces. This could be fun./ He walked up the slope of roof until he was between Michael and the stranger. The man backed up slightly. His exit was slowly being cut off leaving him a hard jump to the street or a potentially loud chase across the tops of the roof. Of course there was still the fact that this man was without a weapon. He lowered his knife and leaned into a fighting stance. /This stranger is asking for it,/ he thought. Casey noticed the change come over the stranger as he crouched down and ready himself for a fight. He smiled again and looked at the strangers shadow in the moon light it extended down the side of the roof and pointed almost right at Casey's feet. Casey turned around and picked a spot on the peek of the roof. Extending his hands he reached for the point of the peek that he picked out. /What the .../ the stranger thought, /He is going away./ An evil thought entered his mind. /Now is my chance./ He leaped forward. With a practiced grace he landed not a foot from the stranger, both feet sideways on the peek of the roof, and swung the knife downward. Casey swung himself sideways and rolled. One foot hitting the stranger in the back of the leading knee, the other in the front of his ankle. His smile disappeared as his grip on the peek of the roof nearly slipped and he began to pull himself back on the peek. The stranger's leg slipped up into the air as he found himself being pushed off the peek. Dropping the knife he grabbed for the peek found purchase and swung himself up onto the peek. /Ok maybe not amatuer, but this will end right here,/ he thought. Casey reached the top first and gingerly placed his cut foot on the peek. It slipped slightly on his blood still flowing from the cut. Casey leapt forward and placed his cut foot directly into the strangers jaw. The strangers head whipped back and his body collapsed. Upon hitting the stranger both Casey and the stranger fell. The stranger fell completely off the roof down to the street with a loud THUNK. Casey grabbed the roof a final time. Scrambling to the top he whispered sharply to Michael, "We have tho geth outh of here, Nohw!". With a second thought, Casey added, "Move ith!" All comments are appreciated and all critiques returned in favor. Melchi the White csteiner@oucsace.cs.ohiou.edu Have a Great Life MagicHutchHeader From: ...sage@basement.library.generica.nexus Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: Bulletin Board Date: 30 Jul 1993 05:22:05 GMT Message-ID: <23ab5t$611@huon.itd.adelaide.edu.au> Keywords: Bulletin, board, admin -=- Dragon's Inn Bulletin Board -=- week ending 30-July-93 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NEW THIS WEEK: none -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- OTHER ACTIVE POSTS: Posted by: Imports, Exports, and Arms (Jeremy Nelson, gujn@uniwa.edu.au) Content: WE apologize for any time distortions in the local area, however, due to testing of a device (Henceforward known as 'The Thing'), the local timestream has become dislocated. There is no danger, however some people may undergo slight disorientation. Some people may apparently find themselves in multiple locations at one time. We assure customers that this is not dangerous, and all time lines are in fact continuous, and will straighten themselves out in time. We recommend leaving early for any important appointments. Normal service will be restored tomorrow, yesterday, in three weeks' time, and in three hundred and thirty years. All complaints should be forwarded to: Imports, Exports, and Arms. We thank you for your consideration. ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Moriarty (Aaron Humphrey, aaron@space.ualberta.ca) Content: |-------------------------------| | Moriarty Investigations, Inc. | | | | Magic and muscle at your | | service! No problem too large | | or small! Reasonable rates! | | | | 15A-Gamma Cor Caroli Lane | | Just off the Arcade of | | Unforgotten Heroes! | |-------------------------------| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Trawm (The Dreamer, asg102@psuvm.psu.edu) Content: Attention all Real Men: If you is reading this then you is in the rong bar. Come to the Spitting Cobra were you can have a good time at a good prise. FITING ENKOURAGED. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by: Malthus Dela Noeuze (jpesonen@viikki.helsinki.fi) Content: **************************************** ** Perfumerie Grand Veneur ** ** Is Seeking a Person To ** ** Find and Bring Back a Great ** ** Blooddrinker or Souleater ** ** For Perfumeric Substances ** ** All Contacts Considered ** ** ** ** Master Perfumerist Malthus ** ** Dela Noeuze ** **************************************** ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Posted by : Faraway Investigations (albert@bcm.tmc.edu) Content: Grand Re-Opening: Faraway Investigations. 324A Blue Moon Ave. (one block west of Ardrey's) "No case is too big for Faraway." Rates Negotiable. =========================================================================== SPECIAL STATUS: Posted by: Zenith (Mike Bavister, mrhyde@netcom.com Content: ANNOUNCING THE A.P.D-I ARCHIVES I have been carefully recording all that has transpired here at the Inn and in Generica. I estimate that my archives are missing less than 1 in 100. The archives contain over 4600 chapters (articles) in 20 huge volumes (MB). Currently the archives are only indexed by Subject (Subject line), but my trusty scribes are hard at work attempting to compile a keyword-index by name, place, and "thread". Alas, this task may take a while. There are two methods by which you, the citizens of Generica, can access the archives (and their indexes). Via the Post-Office or by Magic. Via Mail: Send mail to the address below, with your request in the body of the message. I will then search the index(es) for you, and either mail you the matching "chapters" or a list of matches (if there are too many "hits"). Until the keyword index is compiled, I will be very reluctant to search the actual archives for your requests. TO: mrhyde@netcom.com. EXAMPLE: Dear Zenith, Please search your archives for all occurance of "Lancos" or "Zebron". Thanks. Via Magic: I have set aside a portion of my personal library for the Indexes and other materials of interest. If you know the powerful "FTP" spell, you can access the indexes directly. The arcane formula is listed below. This archive is "read-only", you may retrieve anything you like from it, but you can't place anything there. If there is something you'd like placed there for the benefit of all Generican citizens, let me know via mail. Do not forget to use "binary mode" for all not in ".txt" format. The FTP library currently contains: Subject indexes (no.1-no.3999) The Directory of Generica (latest edition) JourneyGarb flyer/catalog APDI FAQs (full and mini) And coming soon: The DragonQuest Saga *note* All ".zip" files are compressed using the latest state-of-the-art compression magic. Older uncompression magic may not work (use "zip19" or "pkzip2.04"). If you have any difficulty with either the transfer of files or decompression, please let me know. ftp netcom.com(192.100.81.100) login: anonymous password: (your e-mail address) cd /pub/mrhyde/APDI Cheers and happy reading ____ / __ __ o _|_ | / |__| | | | | |__ /___ |__ | | | |_/ | | Head Librarian of the Great Library of Generica -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- REMOVED THIS WEEK : none _________________________________________________________________________ ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Pete Calvert : Department of Commerce: Adelaide University, S.Aust. email : pcalvert@economics.adelaide.edu.au -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- another page from ...sage -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: caz@owlnet.rice.edu (James Ulysses Cazamias) Subject: Kron [inn] It Isn't Easy Being Green Message-ID: Date: Fri, 30 Jul 1993 05:09:49 GMT There is the sound of ice cracking. It echoes across the pond. Deer, nosing for twigs in the snow, look up and freeze. The cool air is very still. Overhead two starlings swoop and bob. The deer resume their forage. A piece of ice the size of a wagon wheel breaks off from the rest of the mass and drifts towards the center of the pond. You can see almost right through it. The deer are moving on. Birds chirp. Snow falls -- *whump!* -- from pine branches. The sun shines brightly. Under the tallest redwoods, where the drifts are lowest, pale yellow flowers peek out and quest for sunlight. Spring is coming to Nexus. - * - There is panic in the east quarter. "RUN!" screams the crowd, and they run. They are a stampeding herd, now; oblivious to obstructions of living and non-living natures, they flee in blind panic. At their heels: who knows? constructs of their own imagination, perhaps, or unseen maleficent faeries taking advantage of the mayhem. None know what hunts them, but they run nevertheless. They scatter from Hyrexes' Battleground like ripples from a skipping stone. That most ancient and sombre of edifices, the Battleground seems strangely quiet in the absence of the noisy, cheery Characo Gypsies who until recently called that derelict colliseum their home. The rain-stained and soiled marble cornices that bedecked the crown jewel of a forgettable administration stare unforgivingly at the city that has forgotten them. Unlovely, unloved, Hyrexes' Battleground squats like a toad and waits. The toad is not still. It quivers. Its sides jerk -- tiny twitches, then great spasms of motion which make the slaying ground seem alive. The arched walls bulge outwards. Columns writhe and stretch. Pillars topple. The gates slam open, and a hideous moaning escapes, as from the belly of some loathsome dying beast. Then the ceilings collapse, and the dust rises. But the noises do not stop! oh no, they gain in volume! Horrid grindings and creakings, keeing cries, the sound of stone snapping like bone! The earth shakes, and the streets buck like broncos! and are still. The dust settles. Hyrexes' Battleground is no more. In its place stands a pile of broken masonry several hundred yards in each direction. And atop that steaming, dusty mound is.... well, is...... It's a forest. No, really! - * - Arvel rises and groans. Feeling the top of his head, his fingers touch something hot and wet. Blood. Ow. A chunk of masonry must've hit me when the Battleground went, he thinks. Arvel looks up at the pile, still cloaked by dust at his end. When it went, it *went*. Argh. What a measly day. First some kids steal some of his melons, and then his cart breaks down. It gets upset by some crazy mob (one every day these days...hmmph!) and Arvel, lost, goes to the Battleground to get some Gypsies to help him fix his axle. Instead, the thing collapses on him. What a beautiful friggin' day in beautiful friggin' Generica. Arvel finds a chunk of crumbled granite and sits down to survey the mess. As he watches, the dust clears slowly. It reveals strangely familiar shapes on the top of the pile...trees?! Wow. That masonry must have hit something important. Arvel boggles at the rapidly-appearing tropical forest that is manifesting itself as he watches. He can see limbs twitch and thrust; leaves sprout; roots claw for purchase in the stony soil. And there's something moving around in there.....a person! Arvel fidgets nervously as a limping human form emerges from the forest's edge. He seems to be running from something. As he escapes the margin of the vegetation, however, he slows down and picks his way carefully down the rock pile. Arvel goes to meet him. The figure reveals itself to be a tall naked man with ebony skin and a fiercely-tattoed hide. He is dusty as hell, and spittle runs freely down his chin. Arvel gapes as the newcomer pushes past him, but he soon recovers and trots to catch up. The black man staggers to a watering trough and splashes water down his back. Arvel stares at him. "You were inside when it fell in!" he blurts. "Ingenious," says Kukul Son of Ukambe neutrally, and drinks deeply. "What happened?" presses Arvel, curiosity overcoming caution. Kukul looks up. His eyes are completely bloodshot. "'What happened?' I found my heart's desire. My enemy found it too. We fought. I killed him." Drink. "He got it anyway." Drink. "That, in a nutshell, is what happened." Arvel is puzzled; can you blame him? "But what about the forest?" Kukul gets up. "That," he says coldly, "is my enemy." - * - There is a stirring in the trees. The largest have formed a tight circle into a kind of grove at the miniature forest's center. Between them, gossamer green threads join and form a spidery network, glowing with green life and health. A decision is made. Energy is gathered. A vast taproot emerges from the whole and burrows into the loose rubble of the mound. A cork-screw-like head speeds its progress; within hours it will tap into the waters of the Ceruputhon River and bring nourishment to the body of the Wholeness. Underbrackens are delegated to clear smaller rubble and create cairns of the loose material. Lichens and mosses dispatch themselves to break up the largest pieces. A massive banyan directs traffic in a project to create a watertight basin for standing water, should the taproot fail in its mission. The Green, amiable enough to innocents but made cautious by its recent dealings with Man, sets up shop in Generica. Meanwhile, a hulking, rooty shrub continues the job it has been performing for several hours. It is an important job, so much of the Green's few resources are expended in the effort. The roots plow and suck into the small pile of organic material, absorbing its essence as well as its substance. A cluster of hairlike roots dither at, but do not disturb the small metallic object at the heap's center. The Green has little use for lockets. The shrub's central pod is still swelling. It is now about the size of a small dog and growing rapidly. In a short time it will be able to hold a man. - * - Arvel is long gone when a second human figure detaches itself from the forest's edge. It walks powerfully but gingerly down the rock-pile, which is already considerably more sandy than stony. It stops by the watering trough and peers up at the forest, oblivious of the few brave souls who are daring to return to this part of town. "Gods," it rasps with new-made vocal chords. The sun breaks briefly through the clouds. The forest's myriad leaves immediately jockey for position to absorb the rays. The being feels the light and warmth on its skin, and it smiles. "Pssst!" hisses a voice. It is curious, and goes to look. Somebody is crouching behind a wall. "Is it safe?" ".....safe?" "That...thing! I saw you up there! Is it safe? Will it attack?" The being, which apparently looks manlike enough to pass at close range (the shrub, linked in, silently congratulates itself), appears to consider. Finally: "It's not innately dangerous. It just wants to live and be free. It wants to protect itself. It likes people if they mean no harm. They are free to travel within its confines if they wish. It will shelter you if you wish. But it will kill if challenged." This speech provokes a bemused glare. "Yeah, sure! This twitching forest-creature is *friendly*? Come off it: what is it, really?" More deliberation, then a smile. "Sir, let me be the first to welcome you to Kron Park." - * - The door of the inn opens in a usual manner. It closes, as doors are wont to do; between the two events occurs a translocation from out to in. These happenings are perfectly normal at a busy pub. They do not explain the sudden commotion of the service staff at the Dragon's Inn. Littlefair boggles. "Kron." ".....sure." A careful, appraising look. "You look different." "I am different." "....for instance, you look about thirty years old." "Oops. Well, too late." "The T.E. Kron *I* know is not thirty years old." "He's actually an old geezer," supplies Listener helpfully. Kron eases himself down into a chair. "I guess there have been a few changes." "I guess so." Awkward silence. Kron breaks it. "I've gotten cleaned up since last time. No, for one thing." "And your little problem?" Littlefair taps his skull. Kron, for it really is Kron in a sense, searches for his silver locket and finds that it is not on his person. He is amazed to find that he is pleased. "All cleared up." He smiles. "Will this be on the test?" Littlefair scratches his balding head. He shakes it once and walks to the bar. "Kron, you are one sorry sonuvabitch." "Natch. Bring me a water." Kron looks around. "And get me a seat where I can see the sun." - * - The taproot draws like a pump now; the Green swells with health and moisture. The pool has been trenched and sealed and is now rapidly filling. The armies of leaves have arrayed themselves in an orderly fashion and are soaking up the sun while it lasts. The lichens are making short work of the masonry, and nutrients are being transferred through hairlike rootlets to the rest of the Wholeness. Paths have been cleared, and sunny groves arrayed; several primitive bowers have even been raised from large chunks of marble and granite. And near the center of the park, a section of the Battleground's ampitheatre has been exposed, awaiting use by humans. The Green wants to be accommodating. But..... It has grown vines which can bind and throttle. Willowy trees have sacs which store a lethal organic toxin. Pitfalls, gullies and other hidden terrors await those hostiles which might, or might not, come. The Green has learned to be cautious. Hence another of its measures. The Green knows that it must seem alien and strange to the occupants of this new land. It has reasoned that it needs a mediator between it and those with which it wishes peace. It needed a guardian, so it built one. Only not from scratch. ********************************************************************** ADMIN: Kron is back! (With a few design changes!) This was the original terminus of the ill-fated [green] thread; the missing info will be supplied as we go. Kron Park is a safe haven for those who would be friends; it will even help those who aid it greatly by supplying strange organic artefacts or pieces of information. The Green will not tolerate violence in its confines. All further questions should be handled via email. Comments and suggestions are encouraged. Thanks! -- HWRNMNBSOL MagicHutchHeader From: peters@physics.ubc.ca (Dan Peters) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: ADMIN: The Nexus System (Size of Generica) Date: 30 Jul 1993 08:17:34 GMT Message-ID: <23aleu$b45@iskut.ucs.ubc.ca> References: <93210.113522ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> The Dreamer writes: >On the subject of Nexus, I would say that it's larger than Earth (to allow >for additions later). It should probably be roughly spherical because >none of the travellers have said otherwise. I do think that we have some >literary licence with the moons though since there are a great variety >of numbers, sizes, and orbits in our own solar system. Size: We tend to forget, thanks to modern travel/communications, that Earth is really big. There's amazing diversity among the humans of Earth; i.e. it can fit a _lot_ of stuff. So I don't think it's really necessary to make Nexus larger than Earth, but I don't really object to it either. >I suggest the following: Two moons, one large one, that orbits Nexus >and a small one that orbits the large moon. To visualize this, equate >Nexus to our Sun. The large moon is Earth, and the small moon is our >moon. Earth goes around the Sun. The Moon goes around Earth. >The large moon goes around Nexus. The small moon goes around the large moon. Cool! I like this moon-of-a-moon idea. Can we add a third moon, independent of these two? It's not really important, it's just that I once posted something which hinted at the existence of more than 2 moons.... >So, what about other planets in the system? Are there any others that >are inhabited? What about comets, rings, constellations, etc... Even to ask this question assumes (I think) that we're using "normal" physics/astronomy. I'm all for it, but perhaps others aren't? Drin -- ^..^ / | Dan Peters | Too long for haiku: | /_/\_____/ | | Truly marvelous the proof | /\ /\ | peters@physics.ubc.ca | Of Fermat's Theorem. | / \ / \ | | (author unknown) | MagicHutchHeader Date: Fri, 30 Jul 1993 10:43:08 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93211.104308ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: ADMIN: CCSVAX People and Wraith ADMIN: I apologize for having to post this here, but I seem to be having trouble sending e-mail to anyone on the CCSVAX system. This post may also be of some interest to some new-comers and anyone who needs/wants to talk to Luthor. To David, the Wraith character is yours to run since you are the first and only person to ask for him. The original author notes that "you can do whatever you want with him as long as you don't make him a homosexual". (Personally, I thought the comment was uncalled for...I think someone got a little touchy about my recent Erik-and-Lex postings with Steve Hutchison, but then again, it *IS* his character.) Have fun with him. Contact me via e-mail if you need help (which also goes for any other new-comers), but since I am having problems with your site, you might not get a reply :-(. I'm going to write something short now about Luthor and Wraith entering the inn. All other new-comers are welcome to sit at Luthor's table for a nice chat and some wine. Love and Peace and Friendly Conversation, -The Dreamer- MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [DAC] (Was [Spinoff]) Hello, cruel world Message-ID: <1993Jul30.221814.3567@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Fri, 30 Jul 93 22:18:14 GMT ADMIN: Martin is Dreamer's character, and this is a joint post by him and me. --------- The planet Nexus was rushing to greet him now. It would only be a matter of moments before he would crash there and start his search all over. Silently (as it is always silent in space), he wished he wouldn't survive the landing. He fell to the ground Creating a he sand where he landed. l t arge hole in Martin stood and looked around. Desert as far as the eye could see. Which wasn't far at all, considering that a mile of sand was just thrown into the air by his impact. 'Great,' he thought to himself, 'I'm on a barren planet. With my luck, I'll have to either reinvent all of technology to get off this rock or wait until the sun goes super-nova! Why does this always happen to me?' He took a deep breath to see if the air was breathable, but fell into a bout of coughing as a billion tiny sand particles filled his lungs. --OO--OO-- (Alamatar-Danushar convoy) Sir Rayon sat brooding. He tended to be a troubled person, and brooding was his favorite method of dealing with it. Lycra, sensing his mood, tried to distract his attention: "Look at the stars...Ooooh! there's a shooting one. Wow, it's lasting a long- Um, Rayon? Rayon? RAYON!!" There was a bright flash and, several seconds later, a great thunder-sound. the caravan stopped. Rayon and Lycra looked at each other, and, as one, commandeered the nearest camels and rode off into the sandstorm that marked the impact point. The camels were equipped for the sandstorm that they encountered, but not the humans. Lycra waited for it to get Real Bad and asked her beloved why they were doing this. "Deserts don't normally go 'boom'." he replied, "it's my job as a Paladin to investigate. You may return if you like." He threw his kerchif over his mouth and rode on, confident that Lycra would do the same. Finally they came to the edge of an enormous crater. Down at the bottom was a lone man, a rather elderly one at that. --OO--OO-- (Bottom of the hole) Two hours later, when Martin remembered that he didn't have to breath, he stopped coughing and looked around again. He began absently slapping the dust off his old-fasioned business suit. Then, after cleaning his specticles, he looked around again. He spotted some movement on the top of the crater and decided to investigate. A few minutes later, he spotted the source of the movement. The it appeared to be a human male sitting on a camel, accomanied by a human female doing the same thing. They were waving and shouting something or other, it was hard to discern from where he was. 'Oh boy, yet another planet of fantastically non-interesting humans!' Martin thought to himself. He sighed deeply and then began coughing for another ten minutes. "I say, dear sir, how are you?" Rayon asked, riding up in the midst of the man's coughing fit. "Do you need help? I'm Sir Rayon and this is Princess Lycra." " Hi. I'm Martin. Where's the spaceport?" "The what?" Lycra. "Astral conduit?" Martin asked. This was greeted by blank stares on both their parts. "Oh, brother, not again." He said to himself. "Well, can you take me to the closest city?" "Certainly." The two replied, helping them onto Lycra's camel and then both getting on Rayon's and leading Martin back to the caravan. Comments, suggestions, or anything else is welcome. -Dream- Maybe I should get a sig for this group. -Al- MagicHutchHeader From: peters@physics.ubc.ca (Dan Peters) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Re: [BBD] An Overdue Visit [ADMIN] Date: 31 Jul 1993 00:51:37 GMT Message-ID: <23cfmp$i3q@iskut.ucs.ubc.ca> References: <93208.154252ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Just to eliminate all possible confusion: The Dreamer's posting, "An Overdue Visit", happens after everything else which has so far been posted in the [BBD] thread, plus several [BBD] entries which have not yet been posted. Pax. Drin -- ^..^ / | Dan Peters | Too long for haiku: | /_/\_____/ | | Truly marvelous the proof | /\ /\ | peters@physics.ubc.ca | Of Fermat's Theorem. | / \ / \ | | (author unknown) | MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] "I will follow him..." Message-ID: <1993Jul31.163345.1308@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Sat, 31 Jul 93 16:33:45 GMT Palandun climbed out of the hole. "Jees." He said, rolling on his back and appreciating the sunlight, "I don't want to do that for a while. Lesee, He sat up, "Here camelcamelcamelcamel! Heeere camel!" He began drifting about in search of his ride back to Alamatar. Palandun rode into town and stopped off at the camel rental shoppe. The owner was a large man with two wives, who were arguing in the back room. "I brought your camel, can I have my deposit back?" he asked. "You're three days late." "I never competed with you! I always gave up time so you could be with him!" (from the back) "Well, I was busy." "Oh yeah? What about that time we were in bed and you barged in and interrupted us?!" (ftb) "Apparently too busy to feed it. I need that money to make up for your neglect." "*I WAS GOING INTO LABOR*!" "Rats. And I was going to rent two camels this time." "Some labor, you gave birth to a potato!" "My son is *not* a potato! You take that back!" A short, squat kid chose that moment to walk in, cross between Palandun and the owner, grab something to eat, cross again, and walk out. He did bear some resemblance to a potato, but Palandun would have pegged him more for a yam. "They way you treated the last one? Not likely. I have a slug you can rent." "All right, I'm sorry, your son's not a potato. He looks more like a yam." "I can't really chase anybody on a slug." Palandun said. "That's not my problem. You should learn to take better care of your animals." "Hey! Put that knife down!" Knife? "Um, I hate to shred the negotiations, but your wife is about to kill your other wife." "Really?" They both listen to the scuffle for a while. "Drat. I suppose I'd better go stop them." He strode into the back room, Palandun close on his heels. Disarming an irate wife can be deceptively simple given a few simple assumptions: she's not trying to kill you, you're stronger than she is, and she doesn't know you're there until it's too late. The owner strode in, grabbed one woman's knife arm at the wrist, pried the knife loose, and pitched it to palandun, who cut himself on the finger. "Now, girls. I want you to be extra special good while I'm gone." "Gone?" They chorused, while Palandun wondered the same thing. "Yes, gone. I'm going with my good friend...er..." "Palandun" "Palandun. We're going off in search of a friend of his. Now, if you both be sweet while I'm away, I'll see if I can't drag out the rack when I get home." They both squeeled with glee, and dashed off on some miscallaneous errand he sent them on. "Just one problem," Palandun said, "I didn't invite you and I'm not sure I want you along." "If you want the camels, you'll take me." "You're not the only camel rental shoppe in Alamatar you know." "No. But by now they all know what you did to the last one." "I set the dang thing free, is it my fault he tried to eat sand? Not like there wasn't fodder there anyway. Beside, I don't know where I'm going or when I'll get there." MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: penny@agora.rain.com (Penny Hutchison) Subject: [AU] Questions and some answers Message-ID: Date: Sun, 1 Aug 1993 02:50:31 GMT [ADMIN] This is a joint post by Chris Meadows and me. PREVIOUSLY: ar'Elya has just managed to confuse Andrea by changing personas and telling her to be on her guard against handsome unicorn stallions. And now... Andrea gave up trying to understand ar'Elya (again) and instead walked over to where Kardia was sitting, talking to Jay. They were leaning against a tree, the two of them, with Sheryl lying on the ground between (in the best position for being petted, of course). Kardia and Jay were discussing Generica. Jay wanted to know what it was like and how far away it was--he apparently wanted to get there. Well, he's going to get the chance to go, whether he likes it or not, Andrea thought wryly. Jay looked up at Andrea's approach. He was still somewhat unsure about her--what WAS she, a human thief or a unicorn?!--and also didn't know what her intentions were regarding himself and Andrea. "Hey, I don't bite," Andrea said. "Do I, Sher?" Sheryl looked up, snorted, tossed her head, and then reached out to grab a mouthful of the nearby grass. Jay patted Sheryl on the neck, then looked up at Andrea, still not entirely convinced. Kardia got slowly to her feet. "I'm going to go see if breakfast is ready. Excuse me." She walked off toward the cook fire, and Andrea sat down in the spot she had vacated. "It looks like Sheryl's made a new friend," Andrea remarked. Sheryl whinnied vehemently, and Andrea didn't need to call up her unicorn side to understand the implicit meaning in THAT remark. "What exactly are you?" Jay asked. "Are you a unicorn, or are you a human?" "Funny thing about that," Andrea said. "The lines tend to blur somewhat. With Sheryl and me, anyway. Let me tell you why..." She looked over at Jake Pitzar; he was asleep. She considered trying to wake him, but sometimes interfering with spells could have unpredictable effects. She'd just have to tell him the story some other time. "When I was young, I had a younger sister..." Andrea began, and told Jay the tale of Sheryl's transformation from a young girl into a young unicorn; their subsequent flight to Selactica and hence to the Thieves' Guild; Andrea's apprenticeship and graduation; their search for a cure for Sheryl's condition; Kardia's curse-breaking; the old booby-trapped house Andrea had bought for a fraction of its value; the attack by Raykor; the flight to the country; and on up to the present. Jay listened raptly, entirely forgetting his fear of Andrea in finding out why she changed and who Sheryl was. "I didn't know you were human," he said, glancing at Sheryl. Not that it mattered one whit to him. Sheryl snorted, having heard the tale a few times too many (and worse, having LIVED it). "The rest you know," Andrea finished. "You see, you don't have to be afraid of me." She patted Sheryl on the neck. "Yes, I know all about what you two have, and I would never think of breaking it up even if I could." Jay looked relieved; Sheryl didn't change her expression since she'd known that all the time anyway. "BUT, Sheryl is my sister, so if you think for one moment that you two are just going to wander off somewhere together, think again." She smiled, lessening the harshness of her words. "No, not until you're older," Andrea said. "In the meantime, I'm just going to have to train YOU--" she pointed at Jay, "in how to be a thief." Jay's jaw dropped. "You mean you'd take me on--as an apprentice thief?" Andrea nodded. "Who else am I going to teach my skills to? Sheryl?" Sheryl snorted. Just then, there was some sort of a commotion around the sleeping Jake Pitzar. Andrea looked up. It seemed an imp had arrived and was attempting to shake him awake, despite Kardia's protestations. Andrea got up and walked over, followed by Jay and Sheryl (who was a bit reluctant to get up), in time to see Jake open his eyes, sit up, blink the sleep out of his eyes, and take the scroll. The imp promptly disappeared, and Jake opened the missive and read it. "I have to go," Jake said. He got up and left, saying, "I will be back." He turned and walked away, not saying goodbye, not looking back. Andrea recalled an old saying she'd read somewhere: "Never say goodbye, for if you see that person again it becomes irrelevant, and if you don't it doesn't matter." It could have been written about Jake, she thought. "Come to my house any time when you're in Generica, and you'll always be welcome!" Andrea yelled after him. She didn't know whether he heard her or not; he walked around a bend and was soon out of sight. After breakfast, Andrea sat in the shade of a sturdy oak tree, sorting through the spare equipment she kept in her backpack. She knew that SOMEWHERE in there, she had to have equipment suitable for a young apprentice. So far, she'd found a couple of daggers, and was looking for a spare set of lockpicks. Taking a momentary break from her search, Andrea gazed around the clearing. 'Raf and ar'Elya were being strange again, as usual. 'Raf was in a form similar to the satyr-like shape he'd been wearing lately, only it had four legs and a vaguely horse-like lower body. He was apparently drilling Clyde in the use of the bow. Andrea watched as they drew and shot, drew and shot, muscles rippling as they pulled back on the heavy bows. Clyde seemed to be a natural, from the looks of the target. Then her eyes wandered over to another part of the clearing, where the same robed cleric who had seen to their protection the previous night was changing the dressing on Kardia's side. She had removed the old bandage, and now took a new one from the hands of a young robed acolyte who stepped out from behind a tree. She applied this, made sure it fit, and then lowered Kardia's shirt over it. Then the cleric stood up straighter, and became that tall, red-headed Valkyrie again. "How on Nexus do they DO that?" Andrea wondered. Then she realized that maybe she could find out. When she'd used her unicorn-sight, she'd been able to see things more clearly. She suspected that if she tried, she might be able to see more than just what they looked like. Andrea concentrated, bringing up her unicorn abilities. Her eyes shaded to electric blue as she turned her gaze toward the others in the clearings. The first thing she saw was the auras. Kardia's aura was relatively bright, dim in some areas, such as on the side where she was wounded, and partially obscured by her shawl. Clyde's was also fairly bright, though not as bright as Kardia's, and it pulsed brighter in places as he aimed and released his arrows. ar'Elya's aura was about as bright as Kardia's, perhaps a little brighter, and it sparkled. 'Raf's was of a similar intensity, but it seemed...fuzzy? Andrea blinked, but it didn't clear up. Probably just one of those little ideosynchrosies which marked some people as individuals. Then Andrea looked deeper, and her jaw slowly dropped. 'Raf looked like a being of stone--no, that wasn't right. He looked like--like stones, or a rockfall, viewed through a window the shape of his two-legged satyrlion form. There were also aspects of the elements of Air, Water, Fire, and the Void around him, but these were minimal. ar'Elya looked like a huge multi-dimensional snowflake of glass, with that red-headed Valkyrie reflected in its many facets. There seemed to be more than the normal three dimensions there, and looking at her gave Andrea a similar feeling to the sensation she'd had looking at two mirrors which were in near-perfect alignment. Feeling dizzy, Andrea closed her eyes and sank back against the tree. When she opened her eyes, her vision had normalized and she saw everyone as their "normal" shapes again. And she noticed that ar'Elya was coming over toward her. "Are you all right?" ar'Elya asked. "You look a little pale." "I'm all right," Andrea said. "But what--what ARE you?" "Hmmm," ar'Elya placed her hand on Andrea's forehead. "You've just been using magic, haven't you? The red-haired warrior-woman disappeared, and the blonde lady was in her place. Dragonets *POP*ed all around and a few of them flew up to Andrea and snuffled at her. "Magesight, I see. Or, at least the unicorn equivalent." The lady took Andrea's hand and looked deeply into her eyes. As had happened once before, Andrea saw images of herself, but this time they were different. One image was a unicorn with a strong aura of goodness and purity, the other was a furtively moving, dark clad figure being followed by something...something horrible. She couldn't help but shudder. Blinking, she shook her head. The blonde lady was gone. Kneeling next to her was ar'Elya as Andrea first knew her, auburn-haired and grey-eyed. "You were looking at 'Raelf and me with unicorn eyes, weren't you? And you were frightened by what you saw?" Andrea shook her head. "Scared? No, I wasn't scared," she said. "But it was...disturbing. And you still haven't answered my question." "I'll answer anything you like, but I think you'd feel better with some company. Oh, Kardia," ar'Elya raised her voice, "would you please come over here?" Kardia waved her hand in answer and sat down next to them. "Oof, still a little sore. So what's up?" she looked at them both inquiringly. "Oh, just some long-due explanations and a little trust-building," ar'Elya smiled and brushed her hair away from her face. "First of all, Andrea, you know that Sheryl is right over there and won't let anything happen to you, OK?" Andrea nodded, but stiffly. "I'm sorry that you haven't had an explanation about us yet, but I'm afraid that 'Raelf has been doing most of that here. Let's see... 'Raelf and I are members of a race called 'kan. Our home plane is very, very far away from here. It is also a very harsh environment. Neither of you would be able to survive there more than a few moments, and," ar'Elya grinned, "neither would I, in this form. That's why we appeared the way we did when you used your magical sight." "So you _aren't_ human. Are you some sort of monster, then?" Andrea's right hand rested on the hilt of her knife as if for comfort, while her left hand grasped the locket around her neck. She took her eyes off of ar'Elya long enough to glance over at Kardia. How could she sit there so calmly as if this was nothing special? ar'Elya's eyes glinted. "You do know that unicorns are considered monsters, don't you? And in our language ''kan' means 'human'." Feeling suddenly ashamed, Andrea muttered an apology and tried to relax. Get a grip, she scolded herself. They've done you nothing but good so far. Why am I so easily rattled? Kardia took out some wool and a spindle and started to make thread. Andrea found the sight to be soothing somehow. "So tell us, ar'Elya how the two of you came to be here," Kardia asked. "Well, most of us are quite happy to stay at home. But there are some of us cursed with wanderlust, or too curious for our own good," ar'Elya glanced fondly over in 'Raelf's direction. "Those of us who want to travel off-plane go to Traveler's College. That's where 'Raelf and I met, by the way. After many years of very thorough training, we're ready to go." "So you just use magic to look like us, so you won't frighten others?" Andrea asked. "Not exactly. 'Kan are divided into different clans, with different skills. 'Raelf's clan deals with basic elements, and my clan is skilled with archetypes. We also have individual talents. 'Raelf can use time as a tool, and he's also an excellent artificer," she gestured at Kardia's golden foot, "while I am able to be in several different places at once, and I use the archetype most appropriate for each situation." "So that's why that nun appears when you're fixing Kardia's bandage?" "That's right, Andrea." "Okay, I think I understand that. But -how- ," Andrea thumped her knee with her fist for emphasis, "do you look like you do now?" ar'Elya reached down and yanked up a piece of grass. Twirling it idly, she looked intently into Andrea's eyes. "To survive anywhere other than our home plane, we have to eat a sentient of the plane we wish to survive on." "Eat?" Andrea asked, wincing. "What do you mean, eat?" Her voice wavered a little more than she would have liked. Sheryl lifted her head and snorted, but after looking briefly at Andrea, butted her head into Jay's stomach for more ear scritches. Kardia sighed and looked at the thief in disapproval. "Really, Andrea, it's obvious that they ARE surviving here, and have for some time. Would you just stay calm and listen? I, for one, find this all fascinating. Please continue, ar'Elya." ar'Elya was picking the small daisies that dotted the grass. She placed them in her lap and looked at Andrea again. "Actually, that's a healthy fear, Andrea. Make no mistake. If you were to attack me and I had no other way to defeat you, yes, I would consider you food. But those are the -only- conditions by which I would ever eat anyone unwillingly." Andrea shook her head, bewildered. "But why would anyone want to be eaten willingly?" ar'Elya grinned wickedly, "You know that the word 'intercourse' can mean both sex and conversation? Well, to 'kan, it also means con- sumption, to absorb, and to eat. And all can be quite pleasurable experiences. I have it on very good authority, in fact. Seriously, Andrea, I don't eat anyone unless they are at the point of death, and then, only with their full and willing permission. And I'm not finishing what death started, but am asking them to become part of me, quite literally. "There are also several choices that those I consume have. Yes, they really do have choices," ar'Elya said in response to the disbelieving look Andrea gave her. "They can become part of me by personifying an archetype, they can assist and be trained by one of my existing archetypes. They can also become," here ar'Elya's face softened, "one of my children. Or, if they wish, they can pass on to their afterlife. I would never hold anyone against their will." "You... you have to eat to have children?" Andrea sputtered. "Why not? You have to do the same." "But it's not the same at all!" "Only in degree, not in type. Look, I don't do it for perverse thrills, to frighten or to have power over anyone. This is just the way 'kan are," ar'Elya explained, her hands busy with the flowers in her lap. Andrea rubbed the back of her neck and sighed. "I guess I'm beginning to understand. I shouldn't let the fact that you're so different bother me so. It _is_ a lot to take in all at once, though." ar'Elya looked up at her, "I think I know something else that would help. Why don't I introduce you to the rest of me? I deal in four main archetypes. Fighter, mage, rogue and cleric. These aren't arbitrary distinctions, but are very basic ways in which people deal with each other. These are further broken down into both male and female variants. So, without further ado..." ar'Elya was replaced by a huge, muscular red-haired barbarian. He flashed her a grin. "Call me H'ro!" Then the red-haired woman who had been on much of the journey was in his place. "I'm A'ree," she stated. She gave way to... A handsome, pale-blond young man in sorceror's robes who placed his hand on his chest and bowed slightly, "Ilya the Archmage, at your service, ladies." The blonde lady with the dragonets took his place, "In this place, I am named Leah," she said quietly. As she finished, she was gone and a small, slight man appeared. "My name is Errol. We have much to speak of, you and I," he looked at Andrea with liquid eyes. He dissolved into... A swirl of scented smoke, and the faint tinkle of bells filled the air, as a black-haired, exotic-featured woman reclined on her side in front of Andrea and Kardia. "I," she declared haughtily, "am Ale. You may call me Lady Ale." She and the smoke evaporated. An old yet wiry man was sitting in front of them as if he had been there for years. He was dressed as a wandering monk. He smiled at them. "I'm called Father Howard," he said in a voice as kind as his smile. Then he was gone. A sombre-clad, stern-faced priestess was there, the same one Andrea had seen fixing Kardia's wounds. "I am Sister El'n." The acolyte that was always with her walked up and spoke for the first time in Andrea's hearing, "I, too, am Sister El'n." The acolyte shifted her hood back and it was obvious that she was El'n at a younger age. "And we," the acolyte and priestess spoke together, "are all..." "ar'Elya," the brown-haired, grey-eyed woman spoke alone. She cocked her head inquiringly. "Did that help a little?" Andrea nodded. "So all of them almost died and you... absorbed them?" ar'Elya's attention was again on the flowers in her lap. "Oh, they all have their own stories. Ask me again tonight, they're especially good just before bedtime." She lifted her hands from her lap and handed Andrea a wreath woven of wildflowers. "Don't you think your sister would like this? Why don't we join the others, now that you're feeling better?" MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan) Subject: [ADMIN]: Concerning the Astronomy of Nexus... Message-ID: <1993Aug1.033829.15095@midway.uchicago.edu> References: Date: Sun, 1 Aug 1993 03:38:29 GMT We have at least one constellation in the Nexic sky- a group of stars which in a post about six months ago I called "The Pendulum." Remarkable because the constellation itself appears to slowly swing back and forth over many nights, marking about two weeks for every oscillation. A useful timepiece for those on long journeys or otherwise isolated from calendars and such. -- Dennis Brennan djb6@midway.uchicago.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan) Subject: [NTY] The prodigal son Message-ID: <1993Aug1.044159.16827@midway.uchicago.edu> Date: Sun, 1 Aug 1993 04:41:59 GMT The party stopped. Although the hood covering his face kept Gunther from seeing anything, he suspected that it was night since the oppressive heat of the sun seemed to have tapered off. Relieved of his hood, Gunther blinked as daylight hit him brightly in the eyes. It appeared to be an hour or two before sunset, but certainly not night yet. The moons of Nexus (numbering two, three or possibly more pending the consensus of a number of students and professionals on a distant planet) were already visible, augmenting the waning rays of the sun with their own feeble illumination. "Sit," a youthful voice commanded in the Rameshander tongue. Gunther obeyed and observed that his friend, the scholar Sadaget, was nearby. His other companion, the slave Crussen, was nowhere to be seen. Gunther wondered aloud where the mighty Parahander might be. "The bandits hit him over the head and left him in the desert somewhere," Sadaget responded. "They refused to bring him along, even as a prisoner, because his people are farmers. Some kind of clan rivvalry at work here, I suppose." "Be silent," the same youthful voice demanded. "The large one was abandoned since he cannot eat our food. We did not want our food to be polluted by his lips. We did not want to corrrupt our blades with his filthy blood. Let him go back to his own miserable people to dig in the dirt." "More than rivalry, I'd say," Gunther offered. "Our hosts must be one of those hunter tribes of Parahan. I've heard of their disdain for civilization. They refuse to eat anything they haven't killed themselves." He swwitched to the Generican language. "I can imagine them up north in Generica, raiding a grocer's and stabbing at vegetables and jarss of preserves, slaying bushels of corn and shooting arrows through turnips..." "Can you?" the Parahander youth surprised Gunther by replying in Generic. "You think we're barbarians or somesuch. While you wade through the filth and the crime of the cities you're so proud of consnstructing." "And capturing us isn't a crime?" Gunther wondered. The young man struck him with the blunt end of his weapon- sosome sort of spear adorned with feathers and beads. "Shut up. There's a war on." That was news to Sadaget, a Rameshander. "That's news to me." "And you. Shut up." The youth hit Sadaget. "We're throwing all of the Rameshander goat-head tax-collecters out of Parahan. And we're winning." `Goat-head' was an insult directed at Sadaget, who was bearded, as well as at the notorious Rameshander civil servants. "Fine, fine. Good luuck with your little war. Now, my friend here is not a tax collector, and I'm not even a Rameshander. So why don't you... gentlemen (Gunther used a diplomatic term as the youth readied his weapon for another swing at him) let us go." "You're city-people. Worse than that fat village-grub you were so worried about. We're going to have a little fun with you. We'll build a rack and roast you over a bonfire so that the fat that drips from your Generic bones flavors our meat and bread. Or perhaps we'll eat you instead. Or merely cut your legs off and leave you in the prairie for the jackals to find. That's always a hoot." As the youth rattled off his list of torments, Gunther was puzzled by something he couldn't quite place. Then he realized... "Say, haven't I seen you someplace before?" The boy looked a little nervous for the first time. "I don't see how. I live a thousand miles from Generica." "Ah, but how is it that you speak Generic? And you don't have black hair like the other tribesmen." "I.. was found by the tribe. When I was very young." "Couldn't have been that long ago, since you lived next door to me two years ago back in Generica." Sadaget wondered, "Gunther, what the hell are you talking about." "This `Parahander warrior' here is Ulrich Sachsen's kid. His father is a bigshot in the Bank of Generica. His son, Tod- if I recall, ran away from home a couple of years ago and was never seeneen again. Looks like this is where he ended up." "Shut up." Tod whalloped Gunther again. "My name is Mad Winter and if you tell anyone any different I'll skin you." The youth's eyes were cold as steel, but softened for a moment. "So, you're from Generica? How are things back there?" -- Dennis Brennan djb6@midway.uchicago.edu MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: caz@owlnet.rice.edu (James Ulysses Cazamias) Subject: [Kron+] Bringing In The Sheaves Message-ID: Date: Sun, 1 Aug 1993 11:46:18 GMT The crow's beady eyes fix on the flash of color in the trees below. Its instincts tell it what to do. A moment later it perches on the branch and hungrily eyes the cluster of berries. They are not a type it has seen before, but its brain is not capable of making fine distinctions such as "new" and "old". It identifies the berries as food, and that is all. The crow crushes several of the berries in its beak and tosses them back. Then it takes flight again, seeking water to wash its meal down. Inside the crow's stomach, foreign microbes penetrate the crow's digestive tissues and enter the bloodstream. They drift through the bird's system, making a tiny alteration here, forming a new connection there. The bird flies on, oblivious to the changes going on inside its own body. The crow spots water: a flash of sun off the jet of one of Generica's famous fountains. It dives. Sharing its eyes, The Green observes all. - * - Twenty-four hours after its arrival in the City of Fountains, The Green is well-established. It has sent secondary taproots down through stone and soil, and now has reliable back-up sources of water in case the redwood-sized alpha root is menaced. It has adapted its chloro- phyll to the cloudy coastal climes and is creating simple sugars at a rate well ahead of consumption. There is more than abundant carbon dioxide in this place, no doubt because of the considerable industry and animal population nearby, and the oxygen outflow is good. The soil will require some conversion, but time will solve all such problems. This place will do. But there are still signs of danger. The Green, for all its sophistication, still does not fully understand these human creatures. It knows that they have been hesitant and uncertain. To its limited knowledge, this spells danger: humans are most dangerous when they do not comprehend what they are dealing with. The Green must make friends fast. But how? - * - Brynne "Red" Mac Liam sits uncomfortably in his office at Watch Headquarters. His leg maimed in the war with the Lizard Tribes, he is often confined to his desk when he wishes to be out and about, getting things done. This problem is exacerbated by the fact that he has recently lost a number of reliable officers, either through dismissal or their disappearance. And their replacements......well...... Lieutenant Hrusp, decides Mac Liam, is no Panarchus. "I have your paperwork, sir," states Hrusp crisply, and salutes. Mac Liam sighs inside and takes the packet of papers. They look to be in order. With Hrusp it is never otherwise. If Red ever found a typo in his weekly reports, he'd shake the man's hand. "Sir, we're getting some reports from the southeast quarter. There's news that the old colliseum there may have collapsed, but all the reports are a little bit hysterical-sounding. We're checking them out fully before we take any action." "How old are the reports?" "The first made its way to headquarters yesterday afternoon." Mac Liam starts. "And you don't know if it's true yet?!" Hrusp, a political appointee, looks slightly wounded. "Well, that part of town is poorly patrolled, sir. It's so poor the thieves leave them alone because there's nothing to steal. We couldn't just...." "Great Blazing Turds of Sheol," mutters Mac Liam. "A complex that size falls in, and we're sitting around with our thumbs up our butts. Who knows who could have moved in when the Gypsies rolled out? We could have a major crisis on our hands. Why didn't you tell me sooner, you pinhead??" "....I....sir, I've got our best patrol out there now, looking things over." Uh-oh. "What do you mean, exactly, 'Best patrol'?" "Well, sir, Sergeant Thunderhead...." "THUNDERHEAD?!!" "Sir! He's our best field man, hands down. Why, in arrests alone...." "Hrusp? Hrusp? Come closer. Closer. Yes. Good. Hrusp, I have no questions about Thunderhead's prowess with swords, or his ability to interrogate frightened shopkeepers, or his talent to lead watchmen in a raid on a smuggler's den. These things he is very good at. Now, I want you to bend in close here, because this next bit is so important I'm going to whisper it.....you see, the one thing Thunderhead is *not* so good at is thinking. Thinking. It's the thing you do with the mushy stuff in your skull -- remember? No? Anyway, Thunderhead couldn't think his way out of a paper bag. But you -- you, Hrusp, my lad..... "You couldn't help him out from the outside. "YOU MORON !!!!!!" Hrusp holds his ears and waits for the storm to pass. After a few minutes it does. He backs nervously out of the office, giving the appropriate salute. At the last minute he pauses. "Is there anything else I can do, sir?" Mac Liam speaks without raising his head from his desk. "Yes. Go out and find Kron. "And offer him your job." - * - "Oh, Gods, no......tell me it's a mistake. Tell me they didn't send you." "Shaddap, Kron, and crawl back under the rock you've been hiding under. And get out of my way -- I'm on official Watch business." "Neat! Mind if I tag along? I'm dying to see my star pupil in action." "Blow me. You almost cost me my commission, you bastard." "Anybody who can't pass an exam on legal procedure has no business upholding the law." "I know the law just fine. Will you move?" "Yeah, you're a regular barrister, Thunderhead. Like those brutality charges -- three cases, wasn't it? Funny how the victims never showed in court......dinner dates, perhaps....." "Yeah, well, I never snuffed nobody. Like some folks I could mention." "Mention them sometime when you're off duty." "Anytime, you geezer. Hey, didn't you have grey hair?" "Pure living, sonny. Where we going?" "Hyrexes Battleground. Some kind of disturbance. You're not coming." !!! "Well, that's fine with me. Pretty boring to look at anyway....." "Hey! What? You been there already? Hey! HEY!!!!" - * - They stand at the far side of the Dhakri Plaza, which once lay at the feet of the gates of Hyrexes' Battleground. Long lines once formed here, for the citizens of Generica to watch men and beasts perish in outlandish contests and bloodsports. Like the Battleground, those uncivilized days are gone. On the surface, that is. "Holy Humpin' Hippogryphs." "Amazing, isn't it?" "It's a forest." "Perceptive! I like that in a Watchman. It helps them find clues. I think I may have found one, once...." "It's a real, live, cock-in-the-eyesocket forest." "...and such a command of the spoken word! Here: try this: 'She walks in beauty like the fookin' night....'" "It's twitching!" "No, it's flinching. You've got it running scared, big guy." Thunderhead turns to look at Kron. "You know, you and your smart mouth are starting to piss me off. I might just have to bust your ass for fucking with an official investigation." Kron leans tiredly against a wall. "Thunderhead, you really should get a span of attention. They're handy. For instance, in this situation, a *real* watch officer would be forming a plan of action instead of letting some nebbish like me get his goat." "What do you want me to do, Supercop? Arrest a tree? Charge it with loitering?" "No, no....look. You have come across something totally new and different. It is not menacing anybody, but you can't just leave it there without figuring out what it is. Your options are: 1) Go up there and take a closer look; 2) organize a survey team; 3) alert your superiors and ask the Mage's Guild to take a peek......" "We'll burn it down." "......excuse me?" Thunderhead has the look of divinely-sent purpose etched on his face. "It's obviously black magic or something like that. We'll burn it down. Trees burn." He sorties his men and starts marching back towards headquarters. Kron hurries to catch up. "You *can't* just burn it down! You don't know anything about it!" "Yes I do. I know there's a huge, twitching forest where there shouldn't be a forest. I know it munched the Battleground, and it's only a matter of time before it starts munching on something else. I know it's weird, and magical, and it needs to be taken out." "But....but....." "Kron, you never did have any spine. You always could bitch and moan, but when it came to the big decisions, you'd waffle until somebody took some action. Somebody like me. Get out of my way." "Stop. You've got to listen to me." Thunderhead cocks his head and sneers up at Kron. "About one more second of this, Kron, and I'll have a fine excuse to pound you like a piece of veal. Are you gonna obstruct justice on me?" Kron knows the threat is idle: only this morning he tested his plant-grown limbs to their fullest extent, and found that he could easily put his fist through a solid wall. However, pulping Thunderhead will only make him a renegade, and he can't help the Green if he's been executed for assaulting a watchman. He steps out of the way. Thunderhead's patrol marches off down the street. Kron blinks at them. Kron looks around. The ever-present crowd of beggars and huddled masses peers out from a nearby alleyway; they begin to withdraw as Kron's eyes fall upon them. An idea forms in his head. He explains. - * - Thunderhead oversees preparations at southeast subsector HQ. Fifty men with heavy padded armor are forming up for inspection in the yard. They have casks of pitch, and flasks of oil, and lots of torches. Thunderhead is pleased. They'll give him a medal for this. - * - The little girl stares at Kron. She's drooling. "Whutcha got?" Munch. Munch. "Banana." Munch. Munch. "Kin I have some?" Munch. Munch. "Maybe....." Munch. Gulp. ".......pleeeeeeeze?" Munch. Munch. Speculative look. "Weeeeeeeell....okay. See up there in that forest?" - * - "Hut-two-three-four-hut-two-three-four-huhray-ut...TURN!" The formation turns with a high degree of precision. Thunderhead marches at the front. Crowds are starting to gather, watching the procession go past. Good. "Hut-two-three-four....." The canister at Thunderhead's waist sloshes comfortingly. Ah, the smell of paraffin in the morning...... - * - Say.....izzat a CANTALOUPE? - * - Slight holdup at the corner of Mizzenmast and Lamplighter Way; one of those accursed flea markets has sprung up again. Hell to move troops through. "Hut-two-three-four......HEY, MOVE IT, LADY!" Don't people know to get out of the way of the Watch? Got a city to save..... - * - "Blackberries!" "You sure?" "Sure I'm sure!" "Did he say blackberries?" "I heared it meself!" "Where'd you get those pears, hmm?" "Git some yerself!" "Say, look up there!" "Cranberries, or I'm a monkey's uncle!" "Naw, them's dogberries! Bitter, but they make a wine...." "Well, if SHE can get some, I figure I can too...." "Hey, what'd yuh see?" "Blackberries!" - * - "Hut-two-three-four....." NOW what?! "MOVE OUT OF THE WAY! COMING THROUGH! GET OUT OF THE......" Way??? - * - Kron's leaning against a wall again, munching on an apple. Thunderhead storms up, his face purple. "WHAT THE HELL'S GOING ON HERE?" "mmmph.....'scuse me.....'s an apple. Good, too. Try a bite?" "What are all those people doing??!!" Kron gives him an innocent, wide-eyed look. "Jeepers, officer, I'd think it would be obvious. These good citizens are simply taking advantage of nature's bounty." "They're practically inside the forest!" "Nope: They're inside it, all right. And you'll have a hell of a time getting them out." Thunderhead takes a good long look. Hundreds of the poor and hungry are climbing around and in the trees of Kron Park, picking fruit and eating it. They sing songs, and carry loads of provender back home, using any containers that come to hand. No danger of the forest emptying, though: word of mouth is a powerful force in Generica, and every minute more people arrive to see what all the fuss is about. Thunderhead sits down heavily on the ground. An orange falls out of a speeding basket and rolls across the pavement, bumping into his legs. He picks it up, stares at it, sniffs it, and throws it irritably away. Kron smiles broadly at the Watch troops, who stand by uncertainly. He reaches down and pats Thunderhead on the back. "Gee, a torchlight procession. You shouldn't have." - * - Around two in the morning it starts to rain. An elderly man stirs at the first drops as they splatter on his face. He grumpily climbs to his feet, stepping on discarded fruit rinds, and prepares to climb down from the forest to seek shelter. He is surprised when, moments later, the water stops falling but the sound of the rain does not. Looking up, he sees that huge palm-like fronds have opened up over his head. The moon shows him clearly that, on both sides of the path, similar plants have grown up over every one of Kron Park's nocturnal inhabitants. "Oh. Hmm. Well." The rain patters down on the leafy canopy. "Ah. Well, er, thank you, ah, tree. Yes. Good." The mossy bed is soft and warm. "Hmm. Well. How peculiar." And with that he lies down and goes back to sleep. - * - ADMIN: Kron Park is now friendly, but cannot communicate well with humans. We're working on that, though. Feel free to stop by! -- HWRNMNBSOL MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) Subject: [NTY] Trying to leave at the wrong time. Message-ID: <1993Aug1.222325.14426@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> References: <1993Aug1.044159.16827@midway.uchicago.edu> Date: Sun, 1 Aug 93 22:23:25 GMT 'By all accounts, Alamatar is a perfectly charming city, most of the time. However, the days when the Silk Road Convoy comes in change it into something like a cross between a Camquevan Festival and an orcish rape-raid, with the Generican town square market thrown in for kicks.' --The Memoirs of Palandun Lintesul. "My God, this is chaos!" Palandun shouted at Shagrat, the Camel-renter. "No, thursday!" Shagrat shouted back. Palandun gave up on verbal communications and hand signed: 'Go in there where it's quiet.' They entered a nearby tavern, where the activity was down to earthquake proportions. "_Ra-kesh_, is it always like this when the convoy comes in?" Palandun asked. "No, sometimes it gets loud." Shagrat said, grinning. Palandun, who despite his education and experience was still somewhat of a country boy, had to work hard to figure out he was joking. He managed to force a return grin. "Lets stay here for a spell until it dies down." Palandun suggested. Shagrat seemed to think this a reasonable suggestion, so they hung out, ate and drank, caught the floor show, and generally waited. Shagrat managed to bait one of his friends from the convoy into joining them, and they swapped news about their various corneres of the world until the cameldriver dropped a little tidbit about unrest in Parahan. "They're trying to throw off the Rameshander yoke." Palandun was under the impression that they already had, in the person of the Il-Shar, who at last report was still refusing to pay tribute or homage to the Shaheran. He stated as much. "You're right but you're wrong." the driver replied, "The Il-Shar does govern Parahan, but the settled Parahanders control most of the actual land, and they are obedient to the Shaheran." "So the barbarian tribes are trying to take over the agricultural areas of Parahan by force." Palandun said, and immediately found himself on the horns of a dilemma. One of Palandun's duties as ambassador was to report on the developments in his territory, as fully and completely as he could. Another of his duties was to report on the developments in his territory, as speedily as he could. In Alamatar, he could not do both. Finding out the whole story involved either staying in Alamatar or going into Parahan, and a speedy report meant a return to Generica, where the MSGM&P had the abilities to reach Bismania in something like a good time. Palandun resorted to a tactical docterine: "When offered the choice between attacking from the east or from the west, attack from the north." "BARKEEP! Pen and paper!" He shouted, "Shagrat, I need to send a bonded courier to Generica with a message. You know one?" "Of course. Davvash! When do you make your next run to Pashar?" "Tomorrow." "Perfect, my friend has a message he needs to get to generica in a hurry, can you help it along?" "Certainly." The barkeep delivered pen and paper and Palandun frantically set to work, first dictating the instructions to the courier ("To go to the Most Splendid Guild of Messangers and Porters, for delivery to Bismanian ethernet _as is_. Charge to account of Palandun Lintesul.") The second message was pure gibberish. After being assured that it was indeed what he wanted to send, the courier put it in his pouch and strode off with his payment. In a few weeks, bismanian citizens entering their town halls would find the following document in the 'new arrivals' box. To all Bismanian citizens: MagicHutchHeader Greetings, I write this from a tavern in Alamatar, Rameshan. I was pursuing the slavetrader Gunther Toodie when news came to my attention that the Parahan barbarians are attempting to overthrow Rameshander influence in Parahan. I'm afraid I can give no details as yet, but I happen to be in the vicinity and will investigate. It is my preliminary opinion that the effect this will have on Bismanian intrests is negligable. Most of the citizens would read the last sentence first and put it back in the box. A few would dig up the atlas and try to figure out where Parahan is. Almost none would want to do anything about it. The next morning a rather more subdued Alamatar saw Palandun and Shagrat ride off to the east in search of a wandering tribe of Parahaners. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: kring@physik.uni-kl.de (Thomas Kettenring) Subject: Re: ADMIN: The Nexus System (Size of Generica) Message-ID: <1993Aug2.020153.17022@rhrk.uni-kl.de> References: <93210.113522ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> <1993Jul29.205309.10436@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu> Date: Mon, 2 Aug 1993 02:01:53 GMT In article <1993Jul29.205309.10436@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu>, arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith) writes: >In article <93210.113522ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> The Dreamer writes: >> I do think that we have some >>literary licence with the moons though since there are a great variety >>of numbers, sizes, and orbits in our own solar system. >>I suggest the following: Two moons, one large one, that orbits Nexus >>and a small one that orbits the large moon. To visualize this, equate >>Nexus to our Sun. The large moon is Earth, and the small moon is our >>moon. Earth goes around the Sun. The Moon goes around Earth. >>The large moon goes around Nexus. The small moon goes around the large moon. > >Sounds wierd. I think we'd have to back the big moon away from nexus >so that we can get the little moon in orbit without gravitational interference. > >UNLESS, you want to put the tiny moon in polar orbit over the big moon. >so that at certain times of the month you'd see the little moon describing >a circle around the big one, and at other times going before-behind like >normal orbits, but in the vertical plane. Or always in a circle around the >big moon. I dunno, is there a physicist in the house? (willing to do the math) An almost-physicist... the n-body problem is right in my field, being nonlinear, but that means the math is difficult. I guess that moons around moons are not stable if the planet is close enough to the star to support life. The ratio of the distances of the respective bodies to their primaries has to be larger than something, independent of orientation, so either the sun has to be far away or the moon's moon has to be very close. The former means no life, the latter may be prevented by the Roche limit (tides destroying the small moon and making a ring out of it). Perhaps the third moon Dan Peters mentioned could have the same period as the first? An equilateral triangle Nexus-Moon1-Moon3 is a solution of the three-body problem: there are asteroids in that position regarding Sun and Jupiter. But it seems odd to me to use real physics (or my perceptions of it) in a fantasy world... I like the moon's moon, and I like the polar orbit, so bugger physics! >>So, what about other planets in the system? Are there any others that >>are inhabited? What about comets, rings, constellations, etc... In the Sorc thread, Mithrandir used planes near to Nexus: Inferno and Sorceror's mini-plane. Inferno could be on a near planet (close to the Sun?) and Sorceror's plane on one of the moons. Don't you like the idea of a portal to the moon? You go through a door and can see in the sky the continent you just came from. -- thomas kettenring, 3 dan, kaiserslautern, germany If you have to smoke and curse and drink to prove that you're grown-up, you aren't. If you have to do sports and have young mates to prove you're still young, you aren't. MagicHutchHeader Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: penny@agora.rain.com (Penny Hutchison) Subject: [Rat Tales] El'n's Story Message-ID: Date: Mon, 2 Aug 1993 15:35:21 GMT [ADMIN] This is the third in a series of bedtime stories told to Little Rat and Kev by ar'Elya. ==== "Are you two feeling all right?" ar'Elya asked as she came into Kev's room, carrying a tray. "No feathers or broken furniture tonight?" "It's dat Kev," Little Rat grumbled, pointing to a small figure in the corner, standing on his head and warbling about fish-heads. "He don't take nuttin' serious. All da time, foolin' around like a numbnog. Don't know dat if he ain't serious sometimes, he's gonna get dead!" "Not numbnog," chirped Kev. "Dickweed!" He giggled and tried to balance on one hand. "Hmmm," ar'Elya mused aloud. "Do you think a serious person could help Kev tonight?" "Yeah sure. You knows someone serious?" asked Little Rat skeptically. "You an' 'Raelf ain't serious enuf neither." Ar'Elya grinned. "Yes, I know, and that's what my friend says too. I think you'll approve of each other. While I go look for her, why don't you and Kev start in on this cocoa and these sandwiches. Neither of you had much for dinner tonight." Only after she left did Kev roll from his head to his feet and come over to Little Rat and the tray. Little Rat held onto the tray and scolded, "No, you don't get to balance dis too! Jus' siddown an' eat. NO! Just one atta time!" The door opened again. "Little Rat, Kev, this is my friend Sister El'n." In came a tall woman dressed in sombre robes, with a face as still as stone, and about as friendly. "El'n, this is Little Rat and Kev." The head bent incrementally, as if a cliff face had deigned to notice them. As Sister El'n lowered herself glacially into a chair, ar'Elya gave Little Rat her goodnight hug. She then went over to Kev, who reached out and hugged her almost angrily. Ar'Elya gently caressed his head, and Little Rat heard her murmur, "Yes, I know, I know, my dear," then gave Kev a final, very hard hug. "Goodnight, both of you." The door closed, and for a while, there was only the sounds of munched sandwiches and slurped cocoa until an indignant and loud "Harumph!" came from El'n's chair. "No sense and no discipline, that one! Never had it and probably never will." She picked up the third mug of cocoa and then stared hard at Little Rat. "You! You know what I mean. Soft, the pair of them." "Yeah, dey all da time givin' stuffs away an' bring strange folks back to their hidey-hole. Dey try to give me stuffs widout even tradin' or makin' me work. Dey sure is dumb for rich folks." Little Rat gnawed her knuckle in thought. "But dey can fight an' gots magics. Maybe dat's why dey ain't dead yet?" Sister El'n snorted. "Maybe, that or blind chance." She cocked an eyebrow at the decadent marshmallow floating near the rim of her mug. Little Rat was feeling quite at her ease with this visitor. Finally, someone with some sense in this crazy place! "How d'you know Reelya? You knows 'Raelf too?" Sister El'n put down her cup, looked critically at the sandwiches and chose the smallest piece. "I've known her since she was born. Her mother asked me to keep an eye on her. Faugh! Even as a baby she was difficult. Always reaching out, always searching for something. Had a trick of grabbing hold of you until you'd meet her eyes. Tried to tell her to stop doing that." "Why's dat bad? Just a liddle lookin'." That earned Rat a hard stare from the priestess. "You ever looked into her eyes?" Little Rat remembered the two images that she had seen reflected in ar'Elya's eyes once, the battered emaciated corpse and the fierce female warrior, and how they had both looked like her. Sister El'n nodded and continued, "At least when she got older, she stopped grabbing. Never did stop looking, though. Always poking her nose where it didn't belong. Loved talking to anyone and everyone. Worst thing about her was never taking serious matters seriously. Would scold her and she'd laugh and say I could do that for her. Hmph!" "Din't she got no brothers or sisters or nuttin'?" Kev stopped eating long enough to ask. "No, no brothers or sisters but she did have cousins to play with. She got along well with most of them, all except one. Her name was ar'Iss. Now, there was one you would not think foolish," she told Little Rat. "She was as different from ar'Elya as could be. Minded her own affairs, stayed put. Knew better than to put herself out and get hurt, or worse. ar'Elya always seemed to bother her. Maybe thought _she_ was the one being laughed at, I don't know. Used to help the other cousins tease ar'Elya something fierce. ar'Iss even came up for a nickname for ar'Elya." "Nickname?" Little Rat couldn't imagine that ar'Elya could be called anything but ar'Elya. Sister El'n looked around as if someone was there to overhear them. She leaned forward towards the children. "Don't ever tell her that I let you know what it is. She hates it. Got it for the way she looks when she laughs." "Yeah? Well, what whuzzit?" asked Kev impatiently. Sister El'n's mouth quirked. "Sparkles." Little Rat's mouth fell open and Kev tumbled off his stool and fell to the floor. "Sparkles!" he gasped between giggles. Rat looked at him and she, too, started laughing. The priestess merely sat and waited patiently. When they finally had calmed down, she asked, "Are you _quite_ finished?" frigidly. The two nodded, resumed their seats and wiped the tears from their eyes. El'n mistrusted the wicked glint in Kev's eyes. "I would advise _both_ of you to not use this name within her hearing. It could make things around here somewhat less pleasant." She indicated the now-empty sandwich tray and cocoa mugs. Both children nodded, and Kev tried unsucessfully to hide his smirk. "Anyway, the whole family sooned realized ar'Elya wasn't going to be able to settle down and take her duties to her family seriously. There was one place, though, that seemed to think her liabilities were assets. So off she went to Traveller's College. She was the first of her family to go and," here El'n actually beamed,"one of the youngest to ever be accepted." The glow quickly faded from her face, leaving her even more forbidding looking than before. "Unfortunatly, we found out she was going to meet _him_ there." "Him who?" "Why, 'Raelf, of course. His family had been our enemy for ages. Like a small war. Was even called the 'battle between the Cats and Mirrors'." Rat was really puzzled by this. "Cats 'n' mirrors?" "Those were the family marks. We were the mirrors, 'Raelf's family were the cats. ar'Iss would even scare ar'Elya when she was little by telling her the catman would get her if she were naughty. College had strict rules, though, that fights between families wouldn't be allowed there. It was inevitable that they would eventually meet, in some class or other. She was polite to him, would've been no matter what." El'n paused to take a last sip of her now-cold cocoa. She glanced at Kev who was staring intently at the glowing embers in the fireplace. "Few years later they met again at a party. Found out they got along well, too well. Hmph, after that party he was about all she'd talk or think about. Kept making excuses to me about why she kept bumping into him. 'Caution' I told her. 'Move slow, remember who he is'. But would she listen to me? No! Silly fools had to go and fall in love!" Kev whirled away from the fire. "What's wrong wif dat? Love's good stuff! You jus' jealous or sumfin'!" He wiped his eyes with his sleeves angrily. The priestess looked at him cooly. "One thing, they were very young. In fact, they weren't much older than you," she nodded at Little Rat. "Another thing, they didn't stop to think about what could happen." Kev had spun back and was hunched in front of the fire again. Rat shifted uncomfortably and asked, "What happened den?" Sister El'n sighed. "Bad enough that they had to spend all their time together, they had to go and get pregnant after graduation. Thought this would keep their families from separating 'em. Instead, both families blamed each other, and the fighting got worse than ever. The authorities finally had to step in, and had the courts decide what to do. "Courts took custody of their kids and told ar'Elya and 'Raelf that they could never see each other, ever again. How's that for a happy ending? Funny, she never wasted time blaming anyone, didn't sit around moaning. Just went on, like a good girl, but even ar'Iss couldn't call her 'Sparkle' now." "But dey together now. What happened?" "Yes, well, that's something they'll have to tell you. My story's done. I've said enough." "What 'bout dat cousin Arris, da one dat you said knows how to be safe?" "'No one knows, no word comes from/ Her dark and lonely tower..'" the Sister recited softly. She then gave Little Rat a hard look. "Yes, that one knew about taking life seriously. Don't let yourself care. Wrap your heart up tight and hide it so no one can find it and break it for you. Keep your self to yourself. Don't trust, don't smile. Suspect everyone. There's your guide to a long, safe life." El'n then arose to go. As she closed the door, Little Rat thought she heard the sister mutter, "At least, it will _seem_ long."