From alt.pub.dragons-inn Tue Dec  7 21:48:29 1993
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From: foleye@xanth.CS.ORST.EDU (Stilt Man)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [DS] BBD, Velric, Emrikol, and a partridge in a pear tree . . .
Summary: Repost of the story I posted a few hours ago, with a few touch-ups.
Message-ID: <2e1fnkINN7o5@flop.ENGR.ORST.EDU>
Date: 7 Dec 93 08:43:32 GMT
Organization: Computer Science Department, Oregon State University
Lines: 421
NNTP-Posting-Host: xanth.cs.orst.edu

{Originally scribed by myself, the Stilt Man.  Kudos go to Mike Sander for his
input regarding BBD and his return, and to Corey Venour for his cooperation
and input on the long-time-no-see return of Emrikol, the "man with the bandaged
hands."}

======================

Velric stroked the arm of his obsidian throne with a pale, gaunt gray hand as
the Minions brought the object into his view.  The object was not immediately
visible; a coffin held it.  Yet the wraiths carrying it bore it not merely
lovingly; it also appeared quite burdensome.  They let it lower to the floor
before the Dark Lord and the other ebon-robed figure beside him, and stood
waiting for his command.

Velric himself raised his head, his eyes no longer clearly visible in the
shadows of their sockets.  A long, thin finger pointed at them.  However,
it was the dark elf beside him who spoke.

"Open it."

The Minions nodded, and raised the lid of the coffin.  Carefully, they stood
the object within on its feet beside the wooden casket.

"Remove the casket.  It will no longer be needed," said the dark elf.

The Minions obeyed as if Velric himself had given the order.

Velric stood, and regarded the statue before him.  The smile on his thin
lips was triumphant, exultant.  He made not a sound as he waved his hand
toward it, and the Minions fastened the statue's wrists in manacles, and
his feet as well.

The statue's expression was one of horror.  It appeared amazingly life-like,
though what artist might wish to capture such fear and surprise upon the
artifice must have been loony, reflected the elf.  However, it was not for
him to second-guess the Master.

A soft red glow emanated from Velric's eyesockets, a sign of excitement.
Green flame licked from his outstretched finger, and surrounded the head
of the statue before him.  Bit by bit, the stone began to crack, until the
cracks had encircled the entire piece.  Velric sat back upon his throne and
watched as hunks of rock fell away from the statue, revealing a perfect human
likeness of what it had once represented.  Strong hands flexed within their
manacles, and the runes inscribed upon the black iron flared in response.
A scream of terror rang out.

Awareness returned to the eyes, and a small smile crossed his lips.  "It's
about time," he said, as if he had deserved better.  He glared at the
spectral duo, and added, "So, who are you?"

"Bekdatusi Bennison Dranzotten, you have been freed upon the pleasure of the
Dark Lord Velric, who now sits before you.  You are warned that your
struggles against my might are quite futile, and that you are only free so
long as I choose to allow you to remain free, and only are so free as my
magic permits," said the dark elf.  "You are also warned that the power you
deal with is far greater than that of the lesser man you once knew."

BBD's eyes narrowed.  Neither of these two looked much like Velric as he
had last saw him, yet it was clear that the necromacer thought he was the one
who ruled here.  BBD thought back on Velric's ambitions, and decided that the
wraith-like form was more to his old servant's liking.  True, it was the dark
elf that kept implying _he_ had the power, but Velric always _had_ been the 
type that felt others were barely worth talking to directly.

"Please, call me Bek." The mage stated calmly, as if he hadn't even heard the
threat.  "I would insist on 'BBD', but usually I save that for my servants.
Right, Velric?" he added with a smirk, looking at the wraith.

"Your impudence is not permissible," interrupted the elf.  "Only subservience
will be tolerated."  The runes on the man's manacles grew brighter, and he
writhed in torment.  "My power is absolute, due to the influence of powers
beyond your understanding."

Again, the elf referred to "my" power.  'The arrogant fool must think it
demeaning to speak to me himself.' BBD reasoned, remembering how he had once
learned to use such a device, which he had simply classfied as The Voice.
He had never bothered to use it.  He thought it too egotistic, and with the
bracelets, it hadn't been necessary.  And he certainly didn't like being
treated this way.  Velric knew and revelled in this last fact, it seemed.

"Would one of those powers in question be Arcania Dorval?" BBD sneered.
"You were an impotent wretch when I first met you, incapable of even
remembering what you'd done five minutes earlier with clarity!  Now you seem
even worse, nothing but a deformed mockery of life itself!" His voice slowly
increased until the last few were almost shrieked, as he cursed the
circumstances that had lead to this.  He remembered that he was about to
deflect Kryalla's spell, when something seemed to go wrong, something along
the lines of interference.  He had suspected Velric at the time, and
Velric's position now essentially clinched it.

Bek looked up, saw the sneer on Velric's face, the amused scarlet glow in his
eyes.  Indeed, something had happened to Velric since last BBD had encountered
him.  He had some awareness while he had been petrified, had wandered in an
incorporeal state throughout his organization, had seen Velric's manipulations
there.  Velric had not been very attentive of it recently, and none within the
organization knew why.  BBD hoped to learn something in exchange for his pain.

Velric's eyes narrowed in anger abruptly.  What had he sensed?  BBD wondered.

"You have been removed from the affairs of the organization you created for
too long, Bek," said The Voice.  "Let me elucidate, and perhaps more of your
feeble failures will become evident."

BBD bit back a retort.  He saw his work as neither feeble nor a failure, but
realized Velric was no doubt _trying_ to make him angry.  Besides, the more
the necromancer revealed, the better off he would be.

"Once your contemptible plots to obtain material wealth in Generica failed,
Arcania Dorval abandoned what small hopes she had of her alliance with you
bearing fruit.  Your power base was too small, her control over events too
indirect.  You relied upon her creatures to accomplish your goals, and never
did you instill her with confidence in you.  She found another being to
carry out her plans this time.  Myself.

"To me, she gave . . . this . . ."

Velric gestured in the air, and the DarkSeed floated from the gloom into
view.  BBD's eyes were fixed upon it.  He could sense the evil miasma that
surrounded it, the raw magic that it embodied.  This thing could make a
being omnipotent, BBD sensed.  And Velric has used it . . . at what price?
Had the fool been too weak-willed to avoid being devoured by the thing's
magic?  Perhaps the magic needed a stronger mind to wield fully without
losing one's humanity, BBD reasoned.  A mind such as Arcania's, who had
demonstrated capabilities to do so quite clearly.  Or his own.

--Dark Lord, he forms his plots to steal what is rightfully yours already.--

Velric glared at the DarkSeed.  Could BBD hear the thing's sibilant voice?
BBD gave no reaction.  Of course he does, thought Velric to the 'Seed.  The
power I hold with your aid is sufficient to tempt any mere mortal such as
he.

--I do not feel it is yet safe . . . you must entrap him once more, lest
he destroy what we have gained.--

Your feelings are immaterial, thought Velric.  I will do with this slave
as I please.  At that, Velric shut the 'Seed's annoying remarks out of his
mind.  The DarkSeed might have done much to his body . . . but his mind was
unmoved by its bothersome rantings.  Did it not provide much power to him,
Velric might well discard it altogether.  The form it had given him was
repulsive to human eyes, perhaps, but he cared little.  The power, the
memory of actually having obtained the power, was well worth the price.

And what is appearance when one can alter it?

The thought was deed.  Velric's flesh filled out, color returned to his
features, hair sprouted from his head, and he pushed his hood back, regarding
BBD with the stone-gray eyes that the wizard-lord had once known.

"You know me, BBD," said Velric, this time directly.  He had no qualms about
speaking directly to a lesser being in a false form; there was no demeaning
quality to it this way.  "You know that, where you failed, I will succeed.  
You can do nothing but watch my triumph.  For I hold the first of three keys
to power you can but dream of.  Even Arcania herself will take notice when I 
am done! And she will be quite surprised that her `servant' has accomplished 
so much."

A greenish mist encircled Velric, and he was once again a sepuchral shape
to behold.  BBD blanched at watching him so quickly degenerate back into this
dark shape.  It was not pleasant at all to the eyes, and as much as anything
he wanted to be quits of it.  A moment later, and Velric resumed his throne.

"Amuse me, Bekdatusi . . ." said The Voice.

Beyond his control his limbs began to twitch and cavort.  He was dancing,
of a sort, only the manacles inhibited his movements, caused him to almost
trip several times.  Velric grinned.

'Fine, have your fun for now.' BBD thought to himself.  'If you think this is
payback for what I did, you have much to learn about revenge.  And I will be
happy to teach you, at the first given opportunity.'

After a few minutes, sweat covered his form.  Velric sat unmoving on his
throne, seemingly bored.  The elf left the room, leaving BBD to wonder what
was to happen now.

Velric's shape became transparent, fading into mist that dissipated in the
breeze.  BBD was left quite alone.  Or at least so it seemed -- he didn't
doubt that Velric would keep an eye on him.  Still, this provided him with
an opportunity to plan how to gain his freedom... and the DarkSeed, while
he was at it.

			=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Arcania Dorval laughed.

"It is almost too easy!" she said as if to no one.  The man lying upon her
bed in the next room certainly took little notice, in a stupor under her
power as he was.  The image in the crystalline pool faded, was again that
of clear water.  "Velric releases Bek, Bek desires DarkSeed . . . two
Dark Lords for the price of one!"  Her mirth was boundless.  "Oh, what fun
the Shrouded One is going to have . . . "

Abruptly she cut off her laughter, her azure eyes serious.  "However, the
fun must end soon.  Soon, Velric, will bring chaos to the Nexus . . . and
I must be prepared to accomplish my own goal in that time."  She turned back
to the pool that had, moments before, displayed the confrontation betwixt
Velric and Bek.  "Go on, dear man, believe that you are the major player in
this game.  Believe that you really do anything I had not hoped for!  It is
all the same.  Whether the DarkSeed does what I intended for you or no, you
still serve my purpose for you.  Which leaves me free to hook the larger
fish whilst you grope around with your spear for the smaller ones . . ."

She closed the door to her bedroom with a slam.

			=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The vaults beneath the city of Dabar Roc served many purposes.  In case of
invasion by whichever of the Dark One's mystical enemies, which more often
than not incorporated creatures with the capability to fly, they served as
a wall against attack from above.  A physical wall above ground could be
assailed from any direction.  An attack into the underground could only be
accomplished from above, or within.  The latter possibility was only possible
if such an enemy dug through the hard rock foundations of the city to get in.
Not possible without the use of great magic.  Any such magic would be easily
dealt with by the empire's Council of Mages.  The other possibility was if
the enemy attempted to move massive numbers of their soldiers instantaneously
by means of other magic to the vaults directly.  This feat was beyond all but
a few of the wizards of the world, and should any of them choose to attempt
such, the Council could again unravel the spell with the aid of the powerful
spells defending the gigantic citadel.

The vaults beneath the city also served as a great barracks for the daemonic
servants of Arcania Dorval.  The Balroqs, the Thurlans, the uncountable
legions of the Orcrogs, the Rauglothi that were nearly invincible in the night,
the polymorphic Khamilons that served as the Dark One's infiltrators in the
most important tasks, all the daemons dwelled here.  Only the Dark Nymphs,
which were on the surface appealing to look upon, the Thurlans, when they
took human shape, or the Khamilons, under the same conditions, were permitted
to stray above ground in times of peace.  Arcania may have been a rare nymph
with her ways of darkness, but the nymph's hallmark love for pleasant
surroundings was not gone from the Dark One's soul.  If the daemons were not
needed for wartime, they were here, slumbering away until they were needed.

The vaults' final purpose was as a vast dungeon.  The labrynthine halls,
impervious to mystical transportation spells, were the hardest prison in the
world of Arghan.  One person in particular, a young man dressed only in a
loincloth, manacled in nothing more than a mystic prison which randomly
moved him in and out of the ether and of the plane of men, considered this
bitterly.  His entire body was marked with sworling tattoos, runes which
were only rarely seen upon the world of Arghan.  They were his magic, the
essence of his being.

"Emrikol, what in the name of the Labyrinth are you going to do?!" he shouted
to himself for the millionth time.

Two years gone, Emrikol had met an ebonclad woman in the Dragon's Inn, on the
world of Nexus.  Emrikol smiled at the coincidence of the world's name.  His
own lord dwelled on a world called the Nexus.  His lord had sent him, long ago,
to aid in the search for his people's ancient enemy, which, at the time he was
sent, had yet eluded detection.  For all he knew, the enemy might have been
found in these last two years, for Emrikol had spent most of those years in
these dungeons.

The woman he had met was none other than Kryalla Simuel, the Shrouded One.

Kryalla had charged him with finding something out about her enemy, this Dark
One.  Kryalla had warned him not to attempt to face the Dark One herself in
battle.  Emrikol had had no choice.  Arcania had found him snooping about in
her capital city, and had apprehended him quite handily.  "Probability runes,"
she had snorted when he had tried his magic on her.  Emrikol knew of worlds
that had been broken with these runes, and yet Arcania took little notice of
them.  His magic very simply had had negligible effect upon her.  She had
caught him, placed him down here, entrapped in this insane prison all his own,
his mind tormented by the constant shifting of the plane of existence around
him, and left him virtually unable to escape.  He had full awareness of his
limbs, of his body around him, but was powerless to move them.  He had full
awareness of his surroundings, but had no abilitiy to do aught about them.
His runes gave him the power to manipulate the very possibilities of reality.  
Something in Arcania's magic had somehow made all possibilities beyond his 
power to grasp.  

Save one.  And that one had been slipping in and out of his reach on only a
monthly basis.  Arcania's magic was so alien to him that it had taken the first
entire year of his imprisonment to notice it.  Now, he saw it again.  There!
Just as his prison was due to shift into the ether once more . . .

The runes on his flesh flared up in lights of azure and crimson, and abruptly
Emrikol was in the ether once more.  He did not know how it was, but his prison
did not shift into the catacombs beneath Dabar Roc this time.  As a matter of
fact, his awareness was more complete, his moves once again moved under his
will once more.  The light of his runes was very dim upon casting his spell.
The ether was all around him; he was trapped here instead of on Arghan.
However, he knew he could not languish in here.  Arcania's prison had kept
him well-nourished with its magic.  His body would slowly waste away here,
however, if he could find no way out.  Time was a very slow-moving thing in
this plane, but he was impatient.  For some reason, Arcania had allowed him
a flaw in his prison, a flaw that allowed him to escape.  He had his
suspicions about why, but the fact that he was free of her clutches for now
was in no doubt.

Sadly, the fact that he was now caught in the ether like a fly in amber was
also in no doubt.  But, at least here, there was more he could do.  His magic
was under his command once again, and after all, his lord had always
encouraged him to be self-sufficient.

			=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

At that moment, another wizard was also trying to think of a way to conjure
his way out of his prison.  The DarkSeed was perhaps his best way to deal
with Velric, BBD thought.  However, there was the likelihood that Arcania
Dorval had infused it with the capacity to consume its user.  That it had
had its effects on Velric's body was obvious.  Equally obvious was Velric's
continuing free will.  'If that snake was capable of resisting it with his
feeble will', thought BBD, 'surely I can do so as well.'

His thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of one of Velric's Minions.
"Poor Bek." it said, its tongue lashing out.  "You no doubt dream of glory,
not knowing the Master has promised your soul to me!" With that, the thing
rushed at him.

BBD was taken aback momentarily.  He seriously doubted Velric had brought
him back to life simply to kill him again, but that logic would do little
good versus the wraith.  And although he could survive on, he did _not_
want to lose this body again.  He quickly prepared a spell, working around
the constrictions the manacles caused, and hoping that they didn't inhibit
his magical abilities.

To his relief, the spell went off, sending a bolt of energy into the wraith,
and blasting it into pieces.  Then something surprising happened: the pieces
seemed to slither along the floor of their own accord, and soon they began
to grow back together, into the shape of Velric.

"Not bad, from you," the Voice said, again by the necromancer's side.
"I was unsure how much of your magic had returned, but it seems like you are
ready to take charge of your organization again."  The elf produced a blue
runic bracelet, and asked, "Do you remember this?"

"Of course I remember the bracelet that controlled you." BBD said with a
wry grin.

"Well, now it has been changed, and will help control you."

BBD was slightly confused, until he felt a spell wash over him, and saw
the manacles turn into a bracelet, the one he had always commanded with.
Its runes still shined brightly, but not at much as the other did.

"That's right." The elf smirked.  "I now command you, and my power allows
me to do it without the bother of having to wear the trinket.  And your first
task, Bekdatusi Bennison Dranzotten, shall be to go to Generica, and watch
over your operations again, while awaiting my command to act further.  Go,
and fulfill your destiny."

BBD tried to fight the impulse to follow the command, but found he could not.
The last thing he heard before teleporting away was the sound of Velric's
demonic laughter.

Velric did not bother to use the Voice to do his laughing for him.

				=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The gateway was just ahead, Emrikol saw.  He knew that this world called Nexus,
where he had first met the Shrouded One, had many ways to enter.  He had used
his runes to invoke the possibility that just now he was standing at the one
that would transport him directly to the city of Generica, not far from the
lodgings whence Kryalla had kept her portal to the world of Arghan.  Calmly
calling upon the runes once more, he was abruptly covered in a tunic and
trousers from neck to ankle and wrist.  Leather boots covered his legs, silk
bandages over his hands to hide the runes as he had done before.  It had not
prevented Kryalla from recognizing what he was, but others might still need
to be kept in the dark.

A few minutes, and he was knocking at the door of the hut where Kryalla had
directed him two years ago.

A bald man, with a long beard and some wheel pattern marked on his forehead,
answered the door.  Behind the man, Emrikol could see, was Kryalla Simuel.

Emrikol never remembered having seen Kryalla betray an expression of utter
surprise.  He had this satisfaction now.

Kryalla Simuel looked at the man standing before her, with his bandaged hands, 
and barely recognised him. Could this truly be the young man she had sent off
two years ago, to find out what Arcania Dorval knew about the Book of Might?
The Shrouded One had tried to find what had become of Emrikol on several
occasions, in the past two years, but she had always met with failure. Even
her scrying abilities had failed to find out what had become of him.

He stood before her, a stooped and shattered wreck of the man he had been two
years before. His hair (what hadn't fallen out) was grey or white, his eyes
were completely white, and the skin on his face looked like parchment. 
Even though he looked like an eighty year old, he still moved with the
feline grace all of his people posessed - the feline grace of a hunting cat.

He smiled at Kryalla and wobbily bowed to her.

"Greetings, Shrouded One.  It has been a long time . . . " Before she could
say a word, he raised his hand and continued, "This is what has become of me, 
at the hands of Arcania Dorval! She showed me horrors that you could not 
possibly imagine! My mind, when not suffused with her foul magic, was left to
slide between planes of existance - planes of possibility! I have seen such
things that I shiver just to think of them. My soul has been laid open to the 
Dark One's view, then cast aside as so much garbage."

The Shrouded One can see the tears glistening in his eyes, as he tells her
of his torment. He staggers slightly, before continuing, "She held me in
torment for two years. She occasionally came to torture me with offers of
release - if I betrayed you and my mission. But my life before comming to 
this universe helped me to keep my secrets. She knew my hopes and dreams, and
crushed them, but she could not make me betray anyone." 

Kryalla could see the glint in Emrikol's eyes, and she knew that he was
reliving the moments he was speaking of. 

"I would never betray the ones I ....." Emrikol collapsed in a heap on the 
floor of the Shrouded One's hut, curled in a ball, quietly weeping.

Kryalla gestured with one ebon-gloved hand, and the man with the bandaged
hands rose from the ground to hover to a cot laid out to one side of the
hut.  The Shrouded One understood Emrikol's need for a healing sleep just
now.  She quietly whispered such for his ears alone.  The man nodded, and
a moment later, his eyes closed.

The hut was silent for some time after . . .

+=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+
+	Kryalla Simuel the Shrouded One			  +
+=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+
+       . . . scribed by the Stilt Man,			  +
+		foleye@xanth.cs.orst.edu		  +
+=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+