Date: Thu, 12 Aug 1993 13:32:56 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93224.133256ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [DAC] Companions of Adversary (or "Bugs and Whining") ADMIN: This is a joint posting of Alan Smith, Dennis Brennan, and The Dreamer in the Dazed And Confused [DAC] thread. What Has Gone Before: Lycra and Rayon have just gone to investigate a 'meteor' that fell near them. The rest of the convoy saw two camels ride off into the sandstorm, and two camels ride back. When they got off, though, it seemed that Rayon and Lycra had discovered a third person, who somehow had been nearby when the...thing hit. The Convoy leader rushed over and adressed himself to Rayon, asking "Who's that?" with a significant jerk of his head. "Martin. He says he's an accountant." "What species is that?" "I don't know, he looks human." Martin sighed dramatically. "I *am* human. An accountant is someone who...um, what's the medieval term...well, I take care of the ledger of a business or estate." "Hmmm," the convoy leader replied, digesting the remark. "Well, he can't come along anyway." "Of course he can." Rayon said, "And I'll tell you why. If you leave him to die out here I'll report you to the Paladin of the Guard at Dansushar, and you'll be lucky to get three thieves and a sheep for protection on your next trip." The Leader pondered this for a moment, then assented. The caravan was re-assembled and put into motion. Due to the lack of camels, Martin was forced to ride behind a rather large brute of a man whose main job was to drool over Lycra and compete with the camels to see who could stink up the group more. The camels lost. The journey itself was absolutely dull. The 'food' that was dealt out at lunch was passible, especially considering that it was the first thing Martin had to eat in the past four billion years. Unfortunately Martin had to resume riding behind Mr. Stinky after the meal. When the camel started its slow swaying pace, Martin heaved brown lizard stew all over himself. Hapily, this improved the smell. The afternoon brought on a barage of insects from an nearby oasis. Martin was amused watching a mosquito try to pierce his skin. Then he carefully picked it up and placed it on the back of Stinky's neck, evilly wishing that it would transfer some horrible disease to its victim. Unfortunately, the mosquito took one nibble the reeking hulk's neck and fell over stone dead. Then it started. Lycra began fussing about the bugs. She insisted that she aught to have a servant swat them from her delicate frame before they ruined her perfect complexion. "Oh, I've never seen bugs this large." "Get it...oh, that's so gross." "If this were *my* kingdom, we wouldn't have any bugs. I'd have them banished to some hole like this." "Ouch! Oh, I think I'm going to faint." "Ow Ow Ow...it hurts." "Yuck, get them off. GET THEM OFF ME NOW RAYON!" And then she really began complaining. After a short break, Martin suggested that Lycra and Mr. Stinky pair up to which she said, "Anything, as long as those bugs stop bothering me." She rode with him about 3 seconds, dumped 5 bottles of perfume on his back, tried holding her breath, and then jumped off the camel for fear of choking to death from the fumes. Although the insects continued to be a problem that evening, Lycra didn't complain. One night, as the column set up camp, one ofthe riders approached and began to babble incomprehensibly and wave his hands about in a manner approximating communication. When the rider's confused audience failed to respond in a like manner he repeated his statement in Eamonic, Graimic, then finally Rameshander before he was understood. The rider's franticness compounded with his exuberance at finally being understood and his remarks tumbled out quickly like water bursting through a dam. "HithereguysandladyI'msogladyousloweddownsoIcouldcatchupand..." he gasped for breath, "andwelltheHuntersareouttheresomewheretheyknockedmeoutandleft meandIwokeupandfoundahorseandwell... here I am." Lycra's jaw dropped open slightly, as if she had been shown a nude bellydancing illithid. Shaking her head as if to come back to her senses, she asked, "What did you say your name was, again?" "Er, Crussen. Sorry. Well, that's just my first name. My last name is Longlastgloweringfantandor..." he recited for almost a minute- "which means `the sound of the moon sinking beneath the waters of a smoothly-flowing brook on a clear midwinter's night' But you can call me Crussen. Most everyone does. That's what they called me back in Pashar, where I was, well, I'd rather not talk about that. But anyway I'm not in Pashar anymore because I'm here and I'm free and that's wonderful and I don't have to worry about getting hollered at for dropping the package of quispah biscuits back at the Alamatar dig like Sadaget used to when he got all worked up, no it's a good thing actually that the Hunters dragged those two away, even thouugh the Hunters are such vicious people, still I feel kind of guilty for being glad that I got separated from them, after all I was supposed to protect Gunther from this sort of thing, and I had been enjoying the trip out to the dig since I didn't really get to see much being indentured back in Pashar and... say, are those raisins you're eating?" Crussen realized that he hadn't eaten in almost two days. Lycra rolled her eyes. "Get in the cart. You can have these. Rayon, where'd you put the box of treat bars? This poor bumpkin is _hungry_." So things travelled along, Martin and Crussen, like Palandun and the others before them, slowly growing to hate Lycra, Lycra growing more and more insufferable, and Rayon seeming to be oblivious to the whole thing. Until one fateful day: "We're lost." The Leader said. This was met my choruses of "What?!" and "Oh, no, not again." Rayon began thinking of ways to avoid what happened last time. "I'm hoping to take a si- Guys? Guys!?" The leader said, this last bit directed at the occupants of the cart, which suddenly wasn't there anymore. It suddenly *was* directly above the Fountain of Useless Adjectives (erected by Herbewitz the Whimisical, circa 265 B.P.) And, unlike many floating objects, landed with a largish *SPLOOSH* Crussen nearly died of shock. Martin yawned despite the sudden translocation. "Great." Lycra said, "Where are we now?" "Generica." Rayon pronounced, looking around at the fountain he had spent so many hours near as a child. "Welcome to the city of fountains." Love and Peace and Group Efforts, -The Dreamer-