From alt.pub.dragons-inn Tue Mar 15 23:16:32 1994 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:7120 Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!koriel!cs.utexas.edu!math.ohio-state.edu!magnus.acs.ohio-state.edu!usenet.ins.cwru.edu!po.CWRU.Edu!rev2 From: rev2@po.CWRU.Edu (Robert E. Vogel) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: REPOST: [Zjiria/Azend] Chapter 1 Date: 15 Mar 1994 02:40:43 GMT Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA) Lines: 148 Message-ID: <2m377b$r33@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu> Reply-To: rev2@po.CWRU.Edu (Robert E. Vogel) NNTP-Posting-Host: owl.ins.cwru.edu ADMIN: This is a post written in conjunction with Robert Vogel's [Azend/Zjiria] thread. While this may not be obvious yet, failure to keep up with both threads will result in things make much less sense in the long run. ********************************************************************** If any of my brethren had forgotten the magikal abilities of the Sirvian people, they were promptly reminded as a bolt flew from one three- armed, hairless wizard and struck Jak in the chest. Jak, not being one to argue with the laws of magik, promptly disintegrated for a largely approvingSirvian audience. "Scatter!" I cried to my Xraj fellows, and the lot of us threw ourselves behind the hard, abrasive cover the mountainside provided. Lara, a young female Xraj like myself, and a friend since we both were young enough to count our fingers and toes, never quite reached the dank moistness of the cave she dove for. The last thing she must have seen was the massive sheet of crackling energy thrown at her by the same Sirva that magikally dismantled Jak with such fearsome ease. I swore that I must live through the battle, so both Jak and Lara might see the Pyrrh. However, survival was still the task at hand. "We're going to die," moaned Revipe, a young fighter of only fifteen who had happened to choose the same boulder to dive behind that I had. I ignored him as I surveyed the crisis at hand. Standing on the hill over us were 5 Sirva, all of whom seemed to have taken this 'Xraj are our mortal foes' thing to heart. Each were, as all Sirva are, entirely hairless and mostly unclothed, depending on their powerful magiks to protectthemselves from the harsh mountain elements they reside in. Three of the Sirva were dressed only in knee-length pants and a red collar, denoting themas commons, footsoldiers who wielded usually only minor magiks. The fourth wore a blue collar, denoting him as a more powerful wielder of spells, and a set of fine leather boots, an oddity amongst the Sirva I'd seen. The last Sirva was the worst, however -- he was the one responsible for all of the general disintegrating going on. He wore a cape, not to shelter him from the harsh mountain chilliness, but to denote his rank as sorcerer of the clan. On our side of the fence, we had six warriors alive. And while we were all fencers of outstanding quality, our Gra'ah became only meaningless lengths of colorful metal unless we could get close enough to use them. Still, I drew each of my swords, feeling more comfort with the ceremonial blades in my hand, and also knowing that the Gra'ah could provide some amount of protection to the magiks hurled about. "This is it! This is the end!" groaned Revipe, huddling off of an elbow of mine. "Oh, do hush up," I snapped, not wanting him to know that my own assessment of the situation had resulted in similiar results. Seconds later, the caped Sirva proved my theory correct as far as Revipe was concerned. He blasted apart our cover, and then fired an electric bolt at those behind it. Revipe screamed and convulsed, as electric blue energy arced across his body. Fortunately, the screams were brief. I had managed to leap from behind the rock barrier before it turned into vapor. Now exposed, I lept across the barren landscape, ducking, swerving and changing directions to avoid being hit. The Sirva moved expertly down the slope towards me, moving each of their three legs in a deliberate fashion to ensure steadiness, and rotating each of their three hands in tight, ornate patterns to call upon the mystical energies to throw at their prey -- namely me. Xrana tried to draw some fire off of me, and drew too much. As soonas she lept from he shelter, a bolt of energy was launched by the Blue Sirva,and she caught it with a final bit of surprise. Afterwards, I was the only one exposed, running like a wild rabbit, watching as streaks of eldritch energy flew past me and turned parts of the landscape into parts of the atmosphere. Every Sirvian eye was on me, and every Sirvian magic was trainedon me, even those who had previously held their fire, deferring to the more powerful magiks of their sorcerer. Still, this was their mistake. The glory in it cannot be understated. In moving towards me, they had ignored the others, and Rasta had managed to sneak behind the caped one and stick a sword through his stomach. The sorcerer stopped casting magik and instead contented himself with making a slight gurgling noise. Rasta then began to hack at the Sirva indistriminately, a Gra'ah in each of his four hands, whirling in perfect unison. As if on cue, two more Xraj warriors lept from what cover they had managed to cling to, and silently cross the mountain landscape, charging a party of Sirvians distracted by the fact that their leader was suddenly in small pieces scattered across the landscape. Kreni was unlucky, and was felled even before he reached the group. Baln fared better, killing two of the red-collared acolytes before the blue-collared Sirva launched a barrage of purple energy arrows at him at close range. I, then free to act, charged the nearest red-collared Sirva, and ended his life before he realized I had crossed the rocky turf. One distracting move had completely changed the game. However, the true drama was not yet over. By luck or perhaps some mystical means, the sorcerer still managed to live, despite the fact that his legs were no longer attached to his torso. With his final breath, he grabbed a hold onto an extremely surprised looking Rasta with three firm grips and muttered something I was too far away to hear. Seconds later, he exploded in a flurry of flame and light. This spell ended two lives, and left myself and the blue-collared Sirva as the only fighters left in this tragedy. We both stopped to breathe. I put two hands on my knees as I my breath, and kept the other two tightly holding their Gra'ah in between myself and the Sirva. The Sirva eyed me warily, relaxing a bit to regain the eldritch he spent dispatching Baln. With a mental tug, I called for the Sirva's name, and it came to me - 'Yygrok'. "We could cease now, Yygrok", I said, in between labored breaths, gripping onto the hilts of my blades tightly. "No, Zjiria," snarled Yygrok between bared teeth, "we could not." At this poing, perhaps for the sake of melodrama alone, we hurled ourselves at each other. I lept at him through the air, blades bared and gleaming. He threw a series of bolts at me, all of which missed or were caught and dissipated by the enchantment of my Gra'ah. With a subhuman snarl, I lunged close to him and swung my weapon - and he was gone. 'Blink spell,' I thought, whirling around. The quick reflex saved my life, as the stream of energy that had been fired towards my back glanced off of my lower right arm instead. Still, he had the advantage, and I found myself diving for cover once again. The cover I found was a narrow mountain pass, a boulder some thirty feet tall standing between him and I. I peered around the boulder, and saw him move each of his three hands in ways I had never seen before. A shiny, glaring gate opened, and a lumbering shadowbeast stepped out, followed shortly by another. Yygrok had called in the calvalry. In no time, the shadowbeasts were coming at me from both directions, and I found myself with the unenviable task of defending both my left and my right from the invaders in this cramped mountain pass. While they were poor fighters, they also had no fatigue to contend with, and they had the advantage of sheer numbers. After killing my sixth shadowbeast, and seeing at least that many more on either side of me, I decided that the strategy would have to change. I went straight up. To their credit, the beasts raised a loud fuss over my quick escape, but their clawlike hands and cloven feet made climbing impossible for them, whereas I have been climbing rock formations in full armor for the better part of my life. By the time I reached the top, the base of the boulder was ringed by shadowbeasts. Nevertheless, I ignored them as I crossed the huge rock and without a second thought hurled myself over the heads of Yygrok's minions at the Sirvian mage himself. Yygrok didn't see me until I was nearly on top of him, and the last burst he fired was too wild, too little, and far too late. His last words were a Sirvian curse I didn't understand. *************************************************************************** ADMIN : Zjiria, the Xraj, the Sirva and this writing are my creations, and copyright by myself, Damion Schubert, 1993, use only with permission, (which will usually be given if asked). --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Damion Schubert Heretic->CarnageMUD heretic@tramp.cc.utexas.edu "If you're going to have a cow, I'm going to milk it for all it's worth." -- I would think that I was dead but for the pain... ---Rabied Rat's Revenge