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From: foleye@viper.CS.ORST.EDU (Stilt Man)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [DS][BBD] Dark Storm Passing
Date: 18 Jul 1994 23:50:19 GMT
Organization: Computer Science Department, Oregon State University
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[ADMIN:  Okay, credits time.  Hacks and slashes were made by myself with
some suggestions from Corey Venour and Dan Peters, and a partial rewrite
from Mike Sander.  It's been almost a year in the making, folks, but the
final battle is finally here . . .]


--They follow you still, Great One.  You must turn and battle them ere
they can entrap you.--

"Are you implying that I cannot handle them?"

--No, Great One.  But the longer you delay, the longer they will have to
draw their plans against your inspired visions of what should be, and the
more trouble they could cause.  One of them, the woman Myrnien, knows most
of your network.  She will bring the Shrouded One there to wreak havoc
upon that which the foolish Dark Lord has already nearly destroyed with
neglect.--

The creatures of nature gave BBD a wide berth as he travelled the woods,
trying to make it to Generica ere the pursuers he knew followed him could
reach him.  The DarkSeed had had its effect on him, to be sure.  His skin
had taken on a pale gray pallor much as had that of Velric, but that was
where the resemblance to the previous owner of the vessel of dark magic
ended.  He still was fully human, fully-muscled and hearty beneath the
color of his flesh.  He was transparent to the eye, and his appearance
sometimes wavered in its opaqueness, sometimes seeming fully solid, at
others becoming completely invisible.  At his will, BBD knew, he could
become either.  The DarkSeed was granting him the power that mattered
most to him, that had characterized so much of his career as a wizard and
organized criminal:  his ability to stay out of sight, hidden from the
sharpest of eyes.

The DarkSeed had shown him much of the truth of past events; he had only
to look out and see them.  It had been no failing of his own or of Arcania
Dorval that had brought the various foes to his doorstep.  Kryalla Simuel
would have found him sooner or later anyway, and with Myrnien in his employ
the painter would have brought the others as well.  The creation of witnesses
left alive by the Gutt Man had been no small part of it, as well as the
fool Velric and his machinations over the girl Lissa, bringing Darvos into
the matter.  He would have defeated Kryalla had not Velric interfered in
that final battle.

His weakness of late had come of his detachment from Arcania Dorval, he
now was shown by the DarkSeed.  With her minions in his employ, he had
had nothing to fear.  If he had fought alongside them instead of seperating
himself from them when the Shrouded One had confronted him, he would have
been victorious.  But the Dark One was gone, disappeared since some
escapade off the western coast.  He had only to find her again, and ultimate
power would be in his hands.

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

Kryalla Simuel abruptly raised her head from the path as they walked.  She
raised a hand, ceased moving.  The others hestitantly imitated her.  Lancos
was the first to hear the crunching of feet upon dry needles and leaves
of the forest, made by a man unversed in stealth of the feet if not in
magic.  Or perhaps their approacher wished for them to hear him.

Kryalla motioned toward a tree to one side of the trail, looking at Lancos.
The man nodded and silently padded over behind it, drawing an arrow to his
bow.  The Shrouded One turned to Tarkyn, and without need of a gesture the
other ranger took up position along the other side.  Kaalzic and Myrnien
were less capable of keeping quiet, but they still made little sound as they
split up, their swords drawn, to join one of each.  Kryalla noted that
Myrnien went to Lancos' side of the trail with a small smile, ere she folded
her Shroud about herself and vanished from view.

The crunching sounds came closer, and the three warriors and painter beheld
a small black orb floating toward them, accompanying the sounds of feet
approaching.  At first they could see no one who could have been making
the sounds.  Then Kryalla took a hand, and an outline of crimson formed
around the approaching figure.  The moment it began to shine, the man
stopped, looking at himself in disconcertment.  Then, the outline of the
head shaking forth and back, he made himself visible to them without the
aid of his enemy.

Having revealed himself, BBD drew his rune-scribed sword and kept his eye
to either side of the trail.  He made no movement as two arrows embedded
themselves in his chest.  He simply smiled as they fell harmlessly from
his flesh, no blood upon them.  A faint reddish glow came to his eyes in
amusement.

"So, who is it to be first?"

The two rangers threw down their bows, taking their swords from their
scabbards, joining with Myrnien and Kaalzic to spread around BBD as
planned.  They knew they were to confront BBD in hand-to-hand combat,
while Kryalla supported them with her magic.  Even though the four
could not -- or dared not, in the case of Tarkyn -- cast spells, they
were sufficiently familiar with the practice to know that magic was
already being waged as a constant betwixt the two sorcerers.  They
had little doubt that without the aid of the Shrouded One, they would
of the essence be at the mercy of their common enemy.  However, they
quickly put these dire thoughts from their minds.

"You, painter?" BBD smiled at Kaalzic charmingly.  His eyes went to
Myrnien.  "Or you, slave?"  He did not spare the time to look over his
shoulders at Tarkyn and Lancos taking up position behind him.

A crimson lance of light took him in the right shoulder, knocking him
off balance but not off his feet.  The four warriors surrounding him
took advantage of the opportunity and swung their blades in concert.
BBD could feel the effect the magic of the Shrouded One was wreaking
upon his defenses; so long as she was free to interfere he actually had
reason to fear these four blades.

With a quick flash BBD was no longer within the circle.  The four did
not collapse into a heap as he had hoped; someone had warned them
against that.  When he reappeared, he whirled with his blade upon
Myrnien.  She ducked the stroke that would have taken her head off
the moment she saw the eyes of Lancos widen in fright at something
behind her.  In the same movement she spun on one knee, her sword
cutting low at where she hoped the feet of her enemy would be.  As
luck had it, a rock was in her path, leaving a nasty notch upon her
blade where it struck.

BBD backed away, careful not to allow any of them to surround him.
The rock at his feet gave him an idea, and his eyes flashed with the
magic the DarkSeed had invested in him.  The ground began to pull
itself upward into a behemoth of wood and rock, in a vaguely humanoid
shape.  The monster interposed itself between BBD and the two rangers,
who were even now attempting to circle about to get behind him once
more.

As the creature began to swing wildly and crudely at them, BBD caught
a glimpse of the Shrouded One, her katana drawn to assist Kaalzic and
Myrnien against him.  BBD knew that his eyes presented information that
was untrustworthy at best, and stiffened his mystical shields to stave
off whatever attack he knew Kryalla would launch from whatever direction.

Kaalzic lunged a little with his sword, an amateurish move that showed
his lack of knowledge with a sword.  Myrnien saw it, and moved to his
other side, his left, in hopes of keeping him without the time to take
advantage of the naivete of her brother.  BBD sidestepped the sword the
painter thrust at him, swinging with his own weapon.  Kaalzic gasped as
a portion of his mask was sliced away and the war-mage's blade sliced
in above his left eyebrow.  The impact and the pain of the stinging blow
combined with loss of blood quickly robbed him of his senses.

BBD saw the forest around him light up with white light, and heard the
cry of his conjured monstrosity as the fireball struck it, wringing the
unnatural life from it in moments.  He had not seen where the strike
had originated, and knew it probably did not matter.

--She is to your right, Great One.--

For once, the sibilant voice of the DarkSeed came of true aid to its
master.  BBD swung his blade in the indicated direction, and heard a
sudden cry and swift ruffle of a cloak as Kryalla took the blow upon
her Shroud.  A small tear opened in the cloak's fabric, evidence of
BBD's growing magic.  Kryalla stepped back, her katana kept out from
her Shroud, its hilt protecting the hand that represented the only
part of her body not covered by the Shroud itself.  The tear in the
fabric closed up quickly, but notice was served that she could not
rely wholly on its defensive magic.

Kryalla joined in on the hand-to-hand combat now, the need for a
fourth attacker to keep the assault pressed circumventing the usefulness
of her illusions, for there was only a small area that she could actually
make herself useful in.  She appeared not to have her mind entirely upon
physical combat, evincing the continued metaphysical battle she waged
with their common foe to prevent his magic from working overmuch to his
advantage.

Tarkyn and Lancos struck first.  BBD saw out of the corner of his eye
that one struck high while the other struck low.  He jumped while tucking
in his upper body at the same time, causing both blows to miss.  He
swung his sword in the direction of Tarkyn, forcing the ranger to give
ground generously.  The blade missed him cleanly, but a sudden scent of
sulfur reached his nostrils as it whizzed by.  The sable eyes of Kryalla
widened when she saw the magical strike she had allowed to take effect,
heard Tarkyn scream and clutch his skull in sudden pain.  Lancos, wary
of what happened, turned so that both his friend and his enemy were within
his view.  It proved a wise move, for when the eyes of the other opened,
a hateful stare was directed upon him.

"Tarkyn?" the warrior asked softly.

"My apologies, but Tarkyn is busy just now.  However, Raoh is more than
happy to deal with his affairs."  Ignoring Lancos for only a brief moment,
he turned to BBD and asked drily, "I suppose you want me to kill them, to
keep this form?"

"I fear that you must, since they seem unwilling to talk this dreadful
fray out," BBD said in mockery.  "I had hoped to take some alive, but
if they cannot defend themselves, they are beneath my notice."

Lancos, who had been reluctant to move earlier, in fear of some trick,
let instinct assert itself once he saw the twin blades seeking his
blood.

Myrnien, caught between protectiveness for Lancos and vengefulness for
BBD, failed spectacularly to act ere the sword of BBD had begun to swung
at her.  The blade struck an unseen wall with an audible clang, jolting
Myrnien back to the real world.

Cursing herself for her lapse, she raised her weapon and concentrated
upon the enemy before her.

"Having difficulties, little one?" mocked Raoh, as one of his blades
scratched along the ribs of his opponent.

Lancos muttered to himself.  Again he found himself unwillingly pitted
against a companion, but unlike the Dragon Quest, on this occasion it
was he, not his opponent, who needed to watch just how sternly he
defended himself.  He knew from his own experience with the medallion
that the soul of Tarkyn still lurked somewhere within that body, and
he wished not to harm either one of them.

Of course, he still had his own defense to concern himself.  What
the slices of Raoh lacked in skill they replaced with sheer ferocity.
Raoh fought as a man who has no concern for his own life, most likely
because both he and his enemy knew that Lancos would not dare risk it.
Lancos gritted his teeth at every blow, concentrating on striking only
the blades before him.

A bright bolt of energy burst into a kaleidoscope of colors around
the head of Raoh, a kaleidoscope that slowly began to take shape in
a vaguely human fashion.  Lancos stood in confusion as the eyes of
Tarkyn rolled back in his head and he slumped to the ground, and those
of the spirit before him narrowed in fury.  The mouth of the spirit
worked angrily, but no sounds were uttered ere it had been encased
in a ball of violet.  The glittering orb slowly shrunk with the spirit
of Raoh within, fading into nothingness after a few moments.  Lancos
turned a quick eye to Tarkyn, who groaned slightly before coming up
on his hands and knees, and then to BBD, who even now was pressing
his advantage upon Myrnien, and made his decision instantly.

The experience of the warrior woman paid off, for not even a flicker
of her eye warned BBD that another was coming up behind him.  Alas,
some other sense, perhaps granted by the DarkSeed since last they
had met, seemed to warn the war-mage of Lancos' approach, for a slash
that would have certainly parted his head from his neck instead only
scratched his shoulder blade.

"Almost impressive," said BBD with a smile that belied his words.  "I
suppose this proves I am not as invulnerable as I would believe.  Of
course, you are even less . . ."

A bolt as black as moonless night sprang from the DarkSeed, lancing
down upon the right calf of Lancos.  The warrior immediately sank to
the ground, grasping his leg in pain.  Kryalla was at his side in a
moment, sensing the medallion already reaching out to clasp control
over the mind of the ranger, and she hurled a length of her Shroud
over him, its defensive magic taking a stand upon his mind as it did
upon hers.  The grip of the medallion loosened, and Lancos smiled
up at her as he weakly slid the medallion off his neck to the ground
ere his senses deserted him completely.

The distraction was quickly proving to the other woman's detriment.
BBD was bolstered by his magic in strength and agility, while Myrnien
had no such advantage.  She was quickly giving way before him, and
fright was beginning to mingle with the rage in her eyes.  She felt
somewhat exhilirated that at last she had the chance to duel him alone,
but had the common sense to know that this was not a wise encounter
to prolong.  The Shrouded One saw it as well.  The eyes of BBD bulged
a moment as his throat began to constrict, then his magic took command,
stopping the mystical strike.

Tarkyn saw the opening, and his dazed condition was forgotten at once.
Taking one of his blades into his hand, he ran at his best speed, hoping
to put that blade into the war-mage's hide ere he was done.  BBD needed
no mystical sense to note the approach; the ranger made more than enough
noise.  He turned, an invisible wall cutting off Myrnien's responsive
sword swing, and his eyes abruptly began to emanate flames of blue that
leapt upon the ranger, hurling him from his feet.  Tarkyn gasped, the
flames searing his lungs as he did so.  They spread over his body
swiftly, the magic driving them as no natural flame could be driven.
After a moment, they ceased, but the hurt they had inflicted upon
Tarkyn was clear.

Kryalla saw BBD begin to stride toward the prone forms of the two
rangers, his defenses staving off the blade of Myrnien, and knew that
what chances they had at life depended upon this stride being stopped.
The white flame pulsated as it leapt from her outstretched hand,
wrenching the body and soul of his body in abject torment.  Myrnien
struck at his shoulder and drew blood in that moment of severe weakness.

BBD, adrenaline aiding his magical strength, rose up and met the sword
of Myrnien, hurling it from her grasp with a whirling motion of his own
blade.  His last foe disarmed, he turned to Kryalla, a mocking expression
upon his face.

"Why, my dear, that was not very nice of you," he said.  "Perhaps you
should join me in the future.  You would not need a bracelet; there are
other ways of accomplishing such . . ."

The eyelids of the Shrouded One began to droop, her stance became
bow-legged.  Her arms slacked to her sides, the katana falling from her
gloved hand.  BBD advanced upon her.

"That's a nice dear," said BBD.  "Why fight when we could accomplish
so much together . . ."

His voice trailed off as he saw the mystical glint in her eyes.  He
had seen that glint before -- when she had turned him to stone.

However, there was no Velric to aid her now.  It mattered not how she
had escaped his enchantment; no doubt the Shroud could be blamed for
that.  She had been saved by Velric from dooming herself before; this
time there was no one to prevent him from turning her to stone in his
stead.

He cast the spell to turn her magic around.

In horror, he found that the magic struck him anyway.  The self-
satisfied smile on the Shrouded One's face told him that he had been
duped into absorbing a self-afflicting spell.

He felt his shields crumbling, felt his defenses shatter.  Anger
suffused his features.  "Foolish wench!"  He bore down upon her with
streams of blue flame, the force of which hurled her to the ground
hard despite the Shroud betwixt her and it.  "Your gesture will
avail you naught!  Your entire resistance to me will now come to an
end!"

He felt the dagger enter beneath one ear, exit his neck under the
other.  "Indeed," came the voice of Myrnien behind him.  "I am saddened
that you won't die as slowly as I'd like; you're too dangerous for such.
But at least you'll not leave a pretty corpse."

The dagger slide forward, severing all of his neck save his spinal
cord from his body.  The light in his eyes brightened abruptly in anger,
then went out, as his body was given to violent twitching, the grotesque
contents of his stomach exiting through the massive rent in his neck
along with the mucus in his throat as he fell to the ground in a widening
pool of blood and offal.

The flames besieging Kryalla flickered and went out, the Shroud smothering
the last of them in its defenses.  The others still remained unmoving,
leaving Kryalla alone to witness the brief look of triumph that passed
over the face of the other woman.

A coughing sound stole the pleasure from Myrnien's face in an instant.
Horror stole over her as she saw what the flames had done to Tarkyn.
She walked quickly to his side, seeing swiftly that there was naught
she could do.

His eyes opened briefly, and he smiled at her.  "D-did you get him?"

Myrnien nodded, a tear making its way down her cheek.  "Yes.  I got
him."

Tarkyn's grin widened.  "Good.  I may be headed f-for the Gray Lands,"
he coughed again, "b-but at least he's in front of me in line."  His
eyes softened, and Myrnien had to lean close to hear him.  "Take care
of L-l . . ."

Myrnien nodded, and Tarkyn smiled.  Then a shudder of agony came upon
him, freezing an unpleasant look upon his face as he went still.

Myrnien turned to Kryalla, a slight wetness dripping down on her
cheeks.  "I . . . I barely even knew him . . . I was not worthy of his
life," she managed through a throat constricting with sorrow and shock.

Once assured the other woman would be all right, Kryalla turned to the
floating DarkSeed.  She moved toward it, seized it in her hands.  It
made no attempts to escape, and she could barely hear its voice over
the mental protections the Shroud afforded her.  She could hear its
exhortations to "achieve a greater glory through it" as she turned to
Myrnien with it in her hands.

"The temptation this thing would present to any of you necessitates
that I do this alone," said Kryalla.  "Too, I must leave you now, for
I know not what will happen when . . ."

Myrnien placed a hand upon her shoulder, trying to clear the water
from her eyes.  "I understand."  She sighed, turning to Lancos and
Kaalzic.  "Will they . . . ?"

"They will live," said Kryalla.  She almost seemed to hesitate ere she
reached into the folds of the Shroud and placed a smooth stone in the
surprised hand of Myrnien.  "When they are ready, this will return you
to Generica.  I can do that much for you.  But now I must be away."
She sighed a moment, turning to the form of Tarkyn.  "I regret that
I cannot honor his sacrifice at his last rites, but I cannot stay.
Many other last rites will be needed if I do not . . . "

"I said I understand," Myrnien cut her off.  Myrnien thought she caught
a glimpse of a smile on the ruby lips.  "Thank you."

Kryalla nodded in acknowledgement, before pulling the DarkSeed under her
cloak, then pulling it about her body as she disappeared.

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

The first sign that Velric had that the DarkSeed had been destroyed was
a sudden feeling of panic deep within his bones.  Then a rage, at himself
for not seeing what its destruction might mean, at BBD for stealing it
from him, at Arcania for giving it to him in the first place.

Then . . . catharsis.  Realization at just how much the DarkSeed had bent
him to the will of Arcania Dorval, realization that so little of his magic
had truly been his, but rather merely that he was being used as a warm
body to cast it.

He had the time to consider this in the world of the living for a few
sprinkles of sand in the glass ere the magic within him began to react
violently to the demise of its source.  His robes burst into flames, his
skin began to shrivel briefly, then straightened into the smoothness of
youth once more.  With horror, Velric realized that his curse was now
reasserting itself, only now far faster than before.  His body shrunk
swiftly, his flaming robes collapsing as he shrunk from Dark Lord to
child to mewling infant.  At that, the curse finally completed its
dreadful course, and the effects of his own folly so long ago were at
last realized.

He might have lived far longer if that had been the only effect of the
departure of the magic.  The Portal twisted and coiled angrily at the
destruction of the power that had opened it.  As with Velric, its effects
suddenly reversed themselves, drawing things within rather than casting
them out.  Velric was the first to be thrown through the Portal into the
Inferno.

But the Portal's implosion did not end there.  The demons cast afar upon
the world of men felt its tug, shrieking in rage and fear as the dark
magic that permitted them entry into this world was taken from them.
The monsters that marched toward Generica even now began to grip at the
ground to avoid being pulled by the shadowy hand that seemed to loom over
them in the sky.  Then they lifted off the ground, hurtling back, flying
for many leagues ere they crashed through the upper walls of the Obsidian
Tower and were hurled through the Portal.

The babe that had once been Velric wailed as a hundred slobbering demons
abruptly fell to the ground about it in the Inferno.  The sound drew
their attention, and instantly lights of hunger awakened in their eyes.
As one, they fell upon the baby and each other, tearing into one another
in their greed that this one trivial consolation would not be denied
them alone.  Unfortunately for the baby, the eventual spoils were in
very small pieces.

The wraiths of the DarkSeed's creation had it much simpler.  They
shrieked briefly, then ceased to exist.  Not even ash remained of what
they had been.

But the magic of the Tower, the collapse of the Portal, the chaotic
cacaphony of the supernatural gone mad, was too much for the fragilc
fabric of reality to bear.

In a hut in the city of Generica, a man who no longer had need of
bandages to cover runes that no longer adorned his hands had his
attention drawn to a sudden flash of orange in the direction from which
the sun had risen much earlier in the day.  Emrikol weakly moved to
the window, and saw with satisfaction the huge mushroom-shaped cloud
that rose into the sky from the direction whence the Obsidian Tower
had once stood.

Before he resumed his healing sleep, he had time to murmur words to
himself.

"It is over."

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