From alt.pub.dragons-inn Wed Aug 24 10:11:34 1994
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Subject: [DT] Durant in the window
From: sean.parker@windmill.com (Sean Parker)
Message-ID: <59.3.2051@windmill.com>
Date: Tue, 23 Aug 94 11:07:00 -0600
Organization: The Windmill Company BBS - 806-792-6116
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>Dancing between the Dread, Kelanen weaved his own deadly pattern
>of sword strokes, striking at any demon flesh left exposed to
>his flurry of attacks.

Durant leaped from the bed and rushed to the window.  Skraff had just  
opened the sash and leaned out, so Durant peered over the old man's 
shoulder.  The noise was deafening.  Durant could make out some bestial 
shapes that he attributed as the source of the inhuman wails.

"By Vaylor's beard!  There are demons attacking a man and he's managed 
to kill one!"

Durant didn't believe in demons, but he believed that a man's life was 
at stake.  He leaped across the room to his armor shouting to Skraff, 
"Clear the window!"

Skraff recognized the urgency in Durant's command.  Reflexes conditioned
from experience and training tore Skraff from the action below.

Durant didn't have time to put on the armor, so he settled for plucking 
the small blaster from its compartment.  Wishing for standard issue, 
Durant was leaning out the window and taking aim.

The diminutive hand weapon barked its familiar squeal and spat a beam at 
the thing closing on the busy fighter's back.  The beam enveloped the 
winged behemoth in an electric blue embrace, converting its body to the 
beam's own energy.  The energy quickly faded, taking the beast with it.

Durant didn't wait to see the creature disappear.  He was too busy 
squeezing off a shot at the nightmare squaring off with the big man 
swinging the huge sword.  His little blaster barked.  The beam hit the 
creature, but didn't envelope it.  There was only a blue flash and the 
creature sailed across the cobblestone street, denting the storefront 
across from the Dragon's Inn.

Durant quickly looked at the blaster.  Low charge.  It figured, he 
thought with disgust.  Durant hastily began putting on the light 
plasteel armor.  

"By the Gods!  You claim not to be one, Durant, but that was the feat of
no ordinary mortal.  That was the gods' own magic that flew from your 
fingers!"

Durant didn't take the time to explain.  He hit the power suit's last 
seal and leaped from the window.

Pokk sat in his bed, staring at the air where Durant had just 
disappeared.  He didn't know how he knew, but Pokk knew his father was 
wrong.  Pokk knew magic.  He knew that huge amounts of it were clashing 
in the street in front of the Dragon's Inn.  He knew that bright magic 
was clashing with eldritch evil.  He knew that magic was woven into his 
soul.