From: kjc@aramis.rutgers.edu (Kelly J. Cooper) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Witts] Introducing, the Witts' End Gang -- Part I of IV Keywords: Kind of like muppet babies, but different Message-ID: Date: 17 Dec 93 17:21:11 GMT [Admin: This is Part 1 of 4 parts that have been written so far.] "A mind that is stretched by a new experience can never go back to its old dimensions." - Oliver Wendell Holmes ** --- <<<< ---- >>> --- ** Up the Down Staircase =+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=+= Raine dug his claws in, deeper, into the sod as he snarled and struggled to keep his 220 pounds forward. The rope tasted of lamp oil and dust and was rough against the tender tissue of his lips and tongue. The line was cutting into his shoulder. This was going to hurt tomorrow. He didn't look backwards, knowing that he was the anchor to this insane tug o' war, his four feet providing better traction and a lower center of gravity. Cat was panting and pulling with all she had. Both could feel the vibrations as Tuek dropped further back into the well. "Fyrk, would you _settle down_?" the Rameshander growled, as Carroll's familiar dove down the shaft, leathery wings raising clouds of dust. Then, in the same breath, he shouted downwards, "How you doing, Carroll?" The reply was barely audible--he was still a ways down. "The air down here is a bit thick." There was a loud burst of coughing. "All right, don't strain yourself," Tuek replied. He considered for a moment, then muttered a short spell. When he was done, he yelled upwards, "I'm gonna drop for a bit." Without waiting for a response, he loosened his grip on the rope, then let go of it altogether. Raine and Cat barely had time to brace themselves before the pull on the rope slackened. Tuek dropped quickly at first, but gradually slowed as the spell took effect. The light from above started to dim as he descended, so he kept one hand in contact with the rope in case he needed it when he deactivated the spell. He knew that he was just postponing the force of the fall... Carroll yelled up, "Gods, be *careful*, Tuek," his voice strained. There was a clink of spike on rock startlingly close below, and Tuek grabbed the rope, swinging suddenly to a stop a yard above where Carroll was braced across the well. The movement of the rope caused a short, ear-piercing shriek as the grappling hook holding open the trapdoor gave a little more, letting the delvers' only known way back out close another handspan. Carroll began speaking urgently, "Tuek, can you brace well enough to support me? I can see through Fyrk's eyes, but I can't reach to wedge this spike from here. We can't put more load on that rope." ** --- <<<< ---- >>> --- ** "HAI! YAH YAH YAH!" Lunge, stab, "Gotcha! Damn! Atterkop!" (thud splat) "Wings, what's happening?" A dark-haired woman looked down the mouth of the tunnel at the approaching light. Wings stalked angrily to the opening, and sat down, pulling up his sweatshirt. An angry red blotch showed on his stomach. "Sorry Danu. Damn thing bit me. You got the poultice jar?" "Here." She held out a small pot with a vile-smelling gunk in it. "Thanks." Wings took a handful and spread it across his muscular midsection. The angry red faded as the healing goop took effect, and after a moment the healthy pale blue glow returned. "Shit. I hate spiders," Wings complained. He wiped his sword on the leg of his sweatpants and returned it to its sheath. "OK," Siaran said, "So does it go all the way through?" Wings pulled his sweatshirt back down and flew up the five and a half feet to hover in front of the red-haired apprentice. The blue glow got brighter as he warmed up. "Nah. Dead-ends just past the spider nest." "Ahbugger. OK, Danu, you wanna lead?" "Hey, I take point," Wings protested. Danu suppressed a smile. "G'head." With a brilliantly white grin, Wings fluttered left, following the edge of the wall. Danu stowed her poultice in the small pack she carried and followed. After taking a moment to grimace and scrape some soft-rock from his boots, Siaran brought up the rear of their short line. Keeping half an eye on Wings and the rest of her attention on the smooth marble to their right, Danu dropped into scouting stride, long otherwise gangly legs smoothly becoming graceful. Siaran found himself staring transfixed at Danu's legs and, when she stopped abruptly, nearly slammed into her. Hiding his blush, he said gruffly, "Wot?" Danu was looking at an oddly angled part of the wall. She gestured at it saying, "Can't you see it? It's a door. With a Healer's symbol on it. Wings?! C'mere." Siaran concentrated on the wall and saw nothing. He swapped sights and saw a faint outline of something... Danu reached out and he was suddenly blinded by the outpouring of magic. Abruptly switching to normal sight, he found his surprised expression mirrored in Wings' face. Danu was gone. "Damndamndamn!" Wings muttered, "Sator rotas div 3 to the pi i squared." A sparkling blue rune failed to appear on the rock face. Wings frowned in concentration and began to whisper fraction tables. "What you goin' on about, mate?" Siaran whispered. "Why're we whisprin?" "Shh. Hah. Damn. Door's gone byebye. I was trying to trace Danyaski." Wings glared at the door. "Only one way left ..." He pointed down the hallway ... and Siaran began to swear with the thoroughness of long and devoted practise. The whole floor before them was a solid, er, liquid, expanse of soft-rock. ** --- <<<< ---- >>>> --- ** ADMIN: soft rock is rock in a semi-solidified state that can be found in the unstable areas. It feels like mud, and can change it's state according to the whims of luck. The Witts' End Gang is: Archibald "Archi" Halidon (Carl Fogelin, fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com) Carroll Jarvek (Colin Roald, colin@callisto.pas.rochester.edu) Chrainein "Raine" Hydor (Liralen Li, li@inigo.data-io.com) Danu (Kelly J. Cooper, kjc@cs.rutgers.edu) Kyle "Wings" Dorshan (Steve Hutchison, hutch@hutch.intel.com) Siaran (Andrea Evans, Andrea.Evans@orb.nashua.nh.us) Tahd Musgrave (Penny Hutchison, penny@agora.rain.com) Theodora "Cat" Rediche (Carl Fogelin, fogelinc@pt.cyanamid.com) Tuek Esmar (Alfvaen, aaron@amisk.cs.ualberta.ca) The characters above are copyright 1993 by their authors. Permission to archive this story is granted for non-commercial purposes. All other rights are reserved.