Date: Thursday, 12 Aug 1993 20:48:58 EDT From: Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Message-ID: <93224.204858344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [BBD] (Epilogue) A Hot Time at Throcken's [ADMIN: Thanks to HWRNMNBSOL for his input into this... he wrote more of it than I did... For you those of you wondering about the timelines: When we last left the BBD, Arienne, Bast, and Lancos had just entered Throcken's Armory...] Passing through the doors of the squat shop was like entering a den of trolls, or a witches' cave. The interior was dimly lit by a pair of charcoal lamps swinging from the blackened oak beams. Piles of metal blocks, sooty chains, great burlap bags and hosts of other, less identifiable things hulked in shadowed corners. "Hm," commented Arienne neutrally, reflecting to herself that she had stepped either into a chimney, or the home of a terribly grubby bachelor. As it happened, she was right on both counts. A dim glow radiated from the rear of the strange room, lining the outline of a doorway. Lancos cautiously approached the portal, with Arienne and Bast closely in tow. They peered through to see the enormous, lumpy form of Throcken the Half-Ogre silhouetted against a shower of sparks. Then the heat hit them, and they retreated behind a stack of copper ingots. Lancos wiped sweat from his brow. "I think I'll go in by myself." he said "Fine by me." Arienne nodded, and Bast gave no signs of disagreement. Lancos dove into the wall of heat. The great forge hissed and sputtered, and the warrior could plainly see the gearing of the strange clockworks that drove the mighty bellows. Throcken himself, intent on his work, held a piece of red-hot stell with pliers in one hand and beat upon it with a heavy hammer with the other. Sparks flew in cascades upon the floor, contributing to the pile of ash and soot that lay everywhere. Everywhere, that is, except for on the merchandise. There were piles upon piles of armor of every size and description heaped about the room in neat piles. Rows of gleaming curaisses reflected the sparks back a thousand-fold. Discorporated helmets watched the room dispassionately, and unstable-looking piles of shields rattled with every hammer blow. Behind them, the shine of newly-worked blades caught the eye, and rows of pilums and halberds poked up here and there. There were enough arms and armor here to outfit a small kingdom's armies. Clearly, Throcken did not believe in understocking. Lancos swam through the heat, taking short breaths to conserve air. He pushed his way forward to the forge's edge and, squinting through the glow, prodded Throcken lightly in the side. "OY!!!" bellowed the gigantic armoreer, rearing up in surprise and banging his head on the lip of the forge's hood. The shock caused him to lose his grip on his tongs, which deftly lost their purchase on the metal. As Throcken scrambled to keep it from falling into the fire, he dropped his hammer. Naturally, it landed on his foot. Out of courtesy to the mild-mannered reader, we shall skip ahead five minutes or so........ * * * * "JEEZ, LANCOS, IT SHURE IZ GOOD TO SEE YOUSE," grinned Throcken, holding a chunk of ice to his - ahem - mauled foot. "IF DERE IZ SOMEBUDDY I'ZE LIKES TO SEE BEST UV ALL, IT'Z A REPEETE CUSTUMMER. WHAT KIN I'ZE GETS FER YOUSE?" His voice dropped to a conspiratorial level, and he elbowed the warrior in the ribs: "MEBBE A BILL-HOOK FER DA LADY, EH? EH?" Arienne arched one eyebrow. "........OR MEBBE NOT. HMF." "Throcken, it's sort of good to hear an over-loud voice again, but no _that_ much." the warrior countered, with a wink. "Anyway, I've lost my short sword, and came to ask what you might have to replace it." Throcken's eyebrows shot skyward, partially embedding themselves in the ceiling. "HAS *I'ZE* GOTS A SORD IN STOCK?? *I'ZE*??! LANCOS, I'ZE IZ INSULTED. HAS I'ZE GOTS A SORD.....HARUMPH! HOLDS ON, YOUSE...." "Well, I was mainly thinking about your knack for speciality items..." Lancos defended. However, the half-ogre didn't respond, preferring to rummage around in various chests and bags. In a few moments, he has a couple of weapons arranged on an upended barrel. "OKAY," says Throcken, all business. "DIS ONE HERR IZ A STANDARD WARRANIAN GUARD GLADIUS WIT' DA 18-INCH BLADE AN' DA WEIGHTED POMMEL. USED, BUT IN GUD CUNDISHUN. ALSO, I GOT IT RAZOR-LIMNED BY A REPUTABLE WIZ; DA SPELL OUGHTA LAST ANNUDDER TWO MUNT'S OR SO. DAT'LL RUN YOUSE ABOUT'S FIVE HUNNERT SILVER SHEKELS. "NEXT, DERE'S DIS WEPPUN, SUMFIN I GOT FRUM A RANGER LIKES YOUSSELF. IT'Z GOT SUM MAJIC IN IT, LETZ YOUSE FIRE SUM ENERGY FRUM IT ONNA COMMUND, OR GET IT BACK, IF IT'Z NOT IN YOUSE HAND. DA BEAM'Z IN CHAURGEZ, BUT DEY'RE FULL FOR NOW. UM, I T'INK DERE WAS SUMMIN ELSE, SUMMIN I CAN'TZ RECALL, BUT IT WAS RANGER-LIKE, SO I BETS YOUSE CAN DO IT ALREADY. I CAN LETS YOUSE HAVE IT FOR AROUND TWELF HUNNERT AN' FIFTY SHEKELS. "NOW, DIS HEER BABY IZ SUMFIN SPESHUL. IT'Z CALLED 'WHISPER' BY DA DWARD WHAT SOLD IT TA ME, BUT I DON'T T'INK HE KNEWED WHUT HE WUZ SELLIN'. I'M OFFERIN' IT ONLY CUZ YER A SPESHUL CUSTOMMER. IT'Z GOT A PERMANENT RAZOR- LIMNIN' ON IT, AN' IT'Z MADE OUT UV SUMFIN REEL HARD TWO; DUNNO WHUT. ALSO, WHEN IT'Z IN A SCABBARD YOUSE CAN'T BE SEEN; WHEN IT'Z IN YER HAND YOUSE CAN'T BE HEERED. COOWUL, HUH? YOUSE KIN HAVE IT FER T'REE T'OUSAND SILVER SHEKELS, AN' I IZN'T GONNA BARGAIN." "ALSO, I'ZE GOTS SUM REG'LAR SORDS TO, BUT I'ZE FIGGERED YOUSE WOOD WANT SUMFIN WHAT'S KIN DO DA JOB BESTER. UP'S TOO YOUSE, NATCHERLY. "SO WATCHOO WANT?" Lancos spent the next few moments in thought. The last two both sounded intriguing, and he knew several people that would find the latter an irristable opportunity. But questions plagued his mind, the first of which was money. There was a fine line between well-off and rich, and that crossed it. Buying it would probably mean having to find another quest soon, and one that guaranteed a payout; something he'd rather avoid, if possible. And then another thought entered his mind. Though he had just proven to himself that he again had full control over himself, away from the medallion's influences, the possibility of losing control was all too real. If the medallion ever _did_ rule him again, being virtually invisible _and_ untouchable might spell doom for him, as well as quite possibly his friends, or Generica itself. Finally, he spoke up. "Uh, I think I'll have to take the second one, though I know someone who might be able to handle the price of the latter." he said, for both financial and safety reasons. He pulled out his main gold pouch, and began to count out the correct amount. "ALWAYZ A PLESSURE DOIN' BUSNESS. AN' YOUSES FRIENDS IS WELCOMME TOO!" Throcken happily gathered the money, and escorted them to the door. "Now can we head for the party?" Arienne asked, once they were outside. "It would be my pleasure." Lancos announced, feeling a bit more whole now. They came upon the stage, and found that the satyr band they had seen yesterday was performing again today. It seemed that they were being led by an unusual creature, looking part goat, part lion, and part man. The being was scanning the crowd, and looked at them with... rainbow-colored eyes? "'Raelf?" Lancos said aloud, accidently speaking his mind. "What?" Arienne said, caught off-guard by the statement. "Oh, I think I see an old friend of mine. I should go talk to him, alone. But you can go ahead; just try to save a dance for me." "Of course." Arienne purred, and pressed close to him, with a hug. The movement was echoed by Lancos, and the two exchanged a deep kiss. Arienne swept her right arm up and down the warrior's back caressingly, to cover up that her left was removing his gold pouch, now that she had seen where he kept it. After a minute, they seperated, and she waved goodbye. Lancos gave a small sigh of content, and then headed towards the stage... [ADMIN: This ends up where "[MG] You Can Still Rock in Generica" started, a while ago. But at least I've finally got Lancos in one timeline, now, in fact fast-forwarding to his time w/ LR next...] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Mike Sander HWRNMNBSOL caz@owlnet.rice.edu 344lwkc@cmuvm.csv.cmich.edu Now Posting In 80MM Trooth-O-Vision [tm] !