From alt.pub.dragons-inn Mon Jul 11 18:56:47 1994 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:7458 Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!spool.mu.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!news.cac.psu.edu!psuvm!asg102 Organization: Penn State University Date: Thu, 7 Jul 1994 18:04:52 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <94188.180452ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Wolf] The Hunt Lines: 154 ADMIN: This is the first post of the fabled "newbie" thread. This thread is going to have infrequent postings at first...until the writers get used to collaborative writing in APDI. Comments are highly encouraged and greatly appreciated. All material herein is copyright 1994 by The Dreamer except for the material on "Electric Sinstar" (by Electric) and some input on "Martin" (by Matt). Also, thanks to Kate, Louise, and Eric for their thoughts and input. -+-+-+-+-+-+-+- Martin knelt down and inspected a leaf. The blood was still fresh which lead him to believe the deer was slowing down. He silently uttered a curse at the foolish hunter who had shot, but not killed the poor creature. Now it was his duty to finish the job. He stood again and continued through the underbrush. He would have to hurry. It was getting dark now and his eyes were not fully Elven. He heard a rustling sound behind him. At first he thought it might be the deer, but they didn't usually circle around. He stood completely still, held his breath, and listened. What he heard gave him the chills. It was a growl -- deep and menacing -- a terrifying sound, completely alien to him. It came from the throat of no animal he had heard in all his years exploring the deep woods. It sounded almost human, like a man enraged. The growl came again, this time louder and closer. Martin slowly slid his pack off his back and opened the flap. Inside was a small hunk of salted meat that he had been saving for this night's dinner. He took the meat and waited for the growl again. As soon as he heard it, he threw the chunk in that direction, waited a second, and then ran as fast as he could through the dense underbrush. The sound of something large crashing through the trees told him that his distraction had failed. Whatever was stalking him was not going to be satisfied until it had fresh blood. He just prayed that the beast would tire before he did. With the sound of his pursuer growing louder and louder in his ears, he ran on blindly. He didn't see the fallen log in his path ... not until it was too late to avoid it. He tripped and slid along the damp ground. Brambles and stones tore at his skin. He turned to look behind and came face to face with the beast. It had the same shape as a wolf, but the presence of a nightmare. Martin stared into its eyes and saw too much there ... this was no creature that nature created, this was a monster. It stared at him with hatred in its cold eyes. He couldn't decide if it was his imagination or if the creature was laughing at him, in a wolfen way. Suddenly, as if it ceased to be amused, the beast lunged, sinking its teeth deep into his flesh. The tearing pain was unbearable and Martin passed out in a red haze of agony. -+-+-+-+-+-+-+- "Welcome back to the land of the living, my friend. Would you like some roast boar?" asked the kindly old man in gray robes leaning over him. Martin tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his side stopped him. "I wouldn't try that again if I were you. I had a problem stitching up that wound of yours. It is liable to break open again." He reached out and pulled the leg off a large pig cooking over the campfire. "My name is Father Anthony, but my friends call me Tony." Father Anthony handed him the leg. "Eat up son. You lost a lot of blood and a few other bits." Martin took the steaming leg and bit into it. "I remember a wolf. Oh...my name is Martin," he said spraying out a few bits of meat, "Oh...sorry." Tony smiled. "That's okay. I am pleased to meet you. Now I can stop wandering around here and get back to Generica." Tony handed him a tin cup full of water. Martin drank deeply from the cup, enjoying the feeling of the cool liquid running down his parched throat. "When are we leaving?" "Not for a day or two. You need to rest and heal." Tony refilled the cup again and handed it back. "What about the wolf?" "If it was going to come back, The Fates would have told me to bring more than just a needle and some strong thread." "I owe you my life..." "You owe me nothing. I just do as I am told." The two men leaned back on the fallen log and watched the fire as they drifted off to sleep. -+-+-+-+-+-+-+- Two days later, a rickety old wagon pulled up in front of the Dragons' Inn. Father Anthony jumped down and supported Martin as he carefully descended. The two walked into the inn, one bracing the other. As they walked through the bar room, Father Anthony caught the eye of Bob Littlefair. "Young man, I would like to rent a room for two nights. I can pay you when we get to there, my hands are rather full at the moment." Bob reached under the counter and grabbed the keys to room 10. Then he jumped over the counter and ran over to the stairs. "Follow me gentlemen." He lead them up to the second floor. -+-+-+-+-+-+-+- The Electric Sintar slumped low in his chair, lazily observing the Inn's patrons. He had been sitting there since before lunch, and the boredom was nearly killing him. Still, he didn't dare get up -- hadn't the young girl at the crossroads promised that he'd find it here? He looked up from his plate as two travellers entered; one was wounded, the other appeared to be a priestly sort; perhaps the priest might have some of that binge-root that the Sintar was so low on... An unexpected movement on the table tore his attention from the newcomers. His silverware, which had previously been moving about by his subtle commands, had begun cavorting wildly about; the fork leapt off of the table and scuttled across the hardwood floor. Muttering angrily, the Sintar threw his napkin over the knife and spoon in an effort to contain them. The knife lashed upwards, slicing at his hand. Drawing his bleeding hand up to his mouth, the Sintar first felt the malignant evil and hatred that was permeating the common room. His elvish face went even paler. He slowly raised his eyes to the newcomers who were staggering up the steps; the Enemy had arrived. -+-+-+-+-+-+-+- Love and Peace and The Hunted, -The Dreamer-