Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!elroy.jpl.nasa.gov!swrinde!network.ucsd.edu!news.cerf.net!pagesat!ukma!eng.ufl.edu!usenet.ufl.edu!cybernet!news From: wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu (christopher motherway) Subject: Saturday night's alright for fighting Message-ID: Sender: news@cybernet.cse.fau.edu Organization: Cybernet BBS, Boca Raton, Florida Date: Thu, 2 Sep 1993 19:46:14 GMT Lines: 204 *HE-YA! HAH! UMPH! HE-UMMPH! No, not this time, Raoh...UMMPH! Your fast hands will not...HAH!...pierce me again! UMMPH!...I can last as long...HE-YA!...as you can! You cannot keep...UMMPH!...blocking my swipes forever! You...HAH!... What the...that man over there...that woman with him...Andrea!... She is fighting him!...I must help her; that must be Rayk...ARRRRRRGGGH! DAMN YOU, RAOH! DAMN YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU.......* - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Lance awoke with a start. It was a little past midnight and he could here the hustling downstairs in the Dragon's Inn-proper. He and Blaze had called it an early evening, and it would have been a more peaceful one if not for this dream. [ADMIN: BTW, this is a week or two after Andrea returned, after Lance and Blaze had that...special...evening together from my last post.] Lance's dreamscape brought him back to Kassandra to again face the evil Raoh the Conqueror, that man that, had it not been for Blaze's healing, would have sent the knight to meet his father permanently! This time, he was winning, if not for the distraction conserning Andrea. It actually _felt_ like Raoh had shoved his powerful fingers through his body again. It turned out that Blaze had rolled over in her sleep, and her hand landed on Lance's chest, right where the poison-wolf scar was. The slight pain was amplified in his dream. Lance quietly got up, washed his face, put on his shirt and leatherings, and walked downstairs and out of the Inn. His father had taught him not to try to go back to sleep right after waking from a nightmare; the nightmare might be waiting for you to return. Childish it may be, but Lance had always followed that rule. Nearly thirty years of age he was, but the child inside him knew as great a wisdom than any sage or king, and he always tried to keep it with him, though he "hid" it most of the time. For a while, he thought the "child" to be gone (not that he minded as much). Blaze made him see that it never left him, and that he did not mind either. Walking along the streets of the town, Lance looked up at the Primus moon, now in its full glory. He had so much on his mind as of late, particularly the Housestorming coming up, that, he figured, that was why the late Conqueror and his mage minion, Raykor, invade his dreams. His thoughts were interrupted by a crash of a window and a bloodied man landing right at Lance's feet. The knight turned in the direction where the body appeared to be thrown, and saw an inn, quite dissimilar to the Dragon's Inn. Inside the ravel was laughing at the bloodied man's expense. Lance looked up and say a sign over the now-shattered window: SPITTING KOBRA. "Ahh, yes," thought Lance. He remembered the bulliten in the Dragon's Inn board, stating that fighting was "enkoraged". "Pathetic. You would think that anyone wanting to run a reputable inn would at least learn how to spell correctly!" By this time, the man at Lance's feet stirred. Slowly, he crawled down the street to where a kind man offered to get his some medical aid. Lance had offered help, but the man said it was unneccesary; "They leave that place worse than this all the time!' he stated. Lance looked again at the inn. He thought for a minute and then, decisively, shrugged his shoulder and entered the Kobra. He did not feel like returning to the Dragon's Inn yet, and a drink might do him good as well. As soon as he entered, he noticed a rather foul stench that seemed to linger in the air (and in his nostrils). He did not mind to much, though; in all his years of travelling, he has slept in worse smelling places than this. The minions in the inn reminded Lance of the army of Langelesca, Wolverton's neighboring kindom. Those men were as big, bruly and badly-groomed as these people. Just then, a barmaid with a voluptuous body and a face that defenitely did NOT match, approached Lance and said, "Well, hi there stranger. Ain't seen you 'round these parts. Can I get you anything?" The woman's voice reminded Lance of some of Langelesca's _women_: quite cracked! Lance replied, "Yes, I wish to have a Morduk Whisker, if you do not mind." Being a knight, he was under an oath of chivaly, and that meant treating women kind, no matter WHAT their manner. Nobody told him it would not be _completely_ easy to follow that code. The barmaid looked awkwardly at Lance and said, "Morduk Whisker?!? Stranger, we have more potent drinks then that!" "I appreciate the offer, but I would prefer what I asked for!" "Well, my _friend_," she said, almost sarcasticly, "we don't have any of that puny stuff with us. Now are you gonna actually order or what?" Lance frowned, but kept his polite manner as he said, "No, madam, I believe I will leave." He started walking toward the door, but then, a man about a full foot higher and 100 pounds heavier than Lance stepped in his path. He had gashes all over his face, particularly his jaw, a jaw that only held three or four teeth within it. "Hey, ya weak punk," the man screamed, nearly knocking Lance over with his heavily liquored breath(!), "why'd youse bodder comin' in here if'n' you wasn't gonna drink? Youse betta order somefin' or, just leave a silver piece to t' kind women!" "Excuse me," Lance replied, in a calm manner, "if you are the bouncer of sorts, I mean no trouble. I just wish to..." "Well, I's mean trouble, bub! Now are youse gonna pay up or does I haveta take it outta yer hide?" Now Lance was getting perturbed. "Sir, I suggest you leave me alone and stand aside. Otherwise, you will be quite sorry!" "Oh, goody! I ain't thrashed someboda in the last 5 minutes!" "Oh? Was that poor lad out there to thank you for his wounds?" "You betcha!" "Well," he said, taking his shirt off, "it seems some retribution is in order!" Quickly the ravel cleared the floor as the brute removed _his_ shirt. They were really looking forward to seeing this young man join the other one on the street, his blood seeping into the ground. Lance was not worried to much. Though he did not have his sword with him, he has wrestled creaters just as large and twice as smart as this man, and he's had a pretty good percentage going for himself. The man made the first move, charging Lance with a mighty scream. Lance sidestepped at the last second, and the brute fell onto a bunch of tables and chairs, turning them into kindling wood. He got up, madder than before, and, this time took a few swings at the knight. Lance dodged those slow blows and followed through with one of his own, right into the monster's stomach. The man still stood, laughing...while Lance winced in pain and shook his fist. This man must have traded brains for muscles! Seeing the advantage, the man grabbed him and started wrenching his neck, with a few swiped to his midsection for good measure. Lance felt his breath starting to leave him. If this man was not careful, he could easily snap his neck or spine. He had to act fast. So he reached behind for the man pants and bowed down, send his opponent flying into the ravel. Lance then backed up a few steps and, when the brute got upright again, ran toward him. He leaped, clinched his fists together and, like he was going for the kill against a manticore, nailed the brute right between the eyes. The man staggered like a flag in the wind for a few seconds, until finally he toppled into unconsciousness. It was at this time when a few of the man's allies, who were not quite as big but just as bruly, decided to teach Lance the lesson that the man could not. Lance handed these men with just a bit of difficulty. He never forget the lessons in martial fighting taught to him when he was a 13-year-old squire. The men hardly knew what hit them. Afterwords, Lance went over to the first man, grabbed his by his pants again, and tossed him through the same window, making a slighter bigger hole in it. Lance looked down at the dazed man out on the street, kissing the dirt stained by blood, and scoffed. He then retrieved his shirt and donned it again. By this time, the patrons were coming out from under the tables and the barkeep and barmaids from under the bar. The knight brushed off his leatherings and then, reached into his pocket. He withdrew a silver piece and flipped it into the hands of the barmaid that greeted him. With a smile, he said, "For the trouble. Keep the change." With that, he left. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - After returning to the Dragon's Inn for a Morduk Whisker (and telling the tale to Littlefair), Lance returned to his room, disrobed, wash his face again, and got back into bed. At the sudden movement of the mattress, Blaze stirred awake and said, "Lance. All you all right?" Lance placed his palm softly on his lovemate's head and said, "Do not worry yourself, beloved. I just took a walk. Go back to sleep." Blaze did, and Lance settled in to rest himself. He would tell Blaze about this incident in the morning. But right now, he was exhausted. He closed his eyes, thinking that, if Raoh showed up again, he WOULD decapitate him THIS time!