From alt.pub.dragons-inn Thu Aug 25 08:24:32 1994
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From: scythe@u.washington.edu (The Grim Reaper)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [DT] : Enter the Weaver
Date: 23 Aug 1994 02:37:55 GMT
Organization: Generica Weavers
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     Having finally finished that cloak which that pesky merchant had been
bothering him about for the last week and a half, Cilorn was heading home for
some well-deserved rest.  The sun had set quite some time ago, but the streets
were well-lit, and he had no trouble seeing as he walked along.  Still, the
pressure of a small dagger in his belt made him feel safer, and he tugged his
cloak closely around himself as he walked.
     Suddenly, the street got darker.  Looking around, Cilorn noticed a light 
in a nearby courtyard had just winked out.  As he watched, another, and then 
another followed suit, swiftly darkening the courtyard, and then the street.  
This would be quite normal behavior for lamps to do, save for three things.  
First, lamps are not normally extinguished when it is dark out, because this 
makes it hard to see.  Second, no lamp-lighters pole was apparent, the lights 
were just turning off.  And third, perhaps most significant, lights being 
extinguished are not usually accompanied by the sound of ... claws? scraping 
against the stone.
     At this point, true adventurers tend to stand out.  Whereas common folk
would run like hell at this point, a real adventurer peeks to see what's
going on, and *then* runs like hell.  This would explain why there are not
nearly as many adventurers as common folk.
     Curiously enough, Cilorn proved to be one of the more foolish, or
adventurous type of soul.  Whether from his boyhood job as sheepherder, 
spending long days and nights alone tending the sheep in the hills, or from
coming to the big city and having to contend with thugs and lawyers, Cilorn
was willing to take the step into the plaza.
     He immediately wished he hadn't.  Illuminated by bright flashes of
magefire and dark red blazing demonfire were five forms, locked in a vicious
dance.  Four of them were obviously demons of some sort, eight feet tall and
blazing red eyes, creatures of darkness.  One was a tall swordsman, wielding
a two-handed blade.  Obviously, the good guy.  As he watched, the swordsman
managed to get a sudden blow in, between the demon's claws, and one demon
fell.  But the other three summoned dark blades of their own, and closed in
to surround the swordsman.
     Cilorn winced.  Obviously, no person with any self-respect could 
callously walk away from this scene, which could have only one likely ending.
But still, there were three of them, and Cilorn was uncomfortably aware of
how small his dagger was compared to any of those flashing blades.  He had
to do something, though... Almost absentmindedly, his hands began to rifle
through the pouches that hung on his belt.  He touched coins, a small pair
of scissors, a wooden pick, before arriving on something useful.  Cilorn
pulled it out.  It was a small length of silver thread, barely visible in the
darkness.  Perhaps he could help after all.
     Cilorn quickly snipped the thread in half, and then muttered something
under his breath.  The two halves of the silver thread began to glow, ever
so slightly.  He tossed one in the air, towards the nearest demon.  Far faster
than a thread ought to move, it floated through the air, until it was
right next to one of the demons slashing at the man.  Working quickly, Cilorn
tied a knot in the piece he held, and quietly spoke another word.  Like a
mushroom releasing a spore cloud, the other piece exploded.  Instead of one
thread, it was many.  Not just a single thread, but a large, tangled mass of
threads, all attached... a net.  A net which drifted down to cover the demon
in glowing threads.
     The demon howled in pain as the net touched it, and began to thrash 
about.  An unwise move, if covered in a net.  Though slim, the threads were
strong enough for the moment, and the demon found itself stumbling, and then 
falling as it tried to get out.  Cilorn smiled, but only for a moment.  Because
one of the other demons had turned, and was staring straight at him with
baleful red eyes.

+----------------------------------------------------------+
| One .sig to rule them all, one .sig to find them...      | 
| One .sig to bring them all and in the darkness bind them |
+----------------------------------------------------------+
| The Grim Reaper (Reaper of Souls, Stealer of .sigs)      |
| scythe@u.washington.edu                                  |
+----------------------------------------------------------+