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From: hsexauer@muskingum.edu (Rapunzel)
Subject: [JOI] An end to the masquerade
Message-ID: <1994Sep11.124240.1@muskingum.edu>
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Organization: Muskingum College
Date: Sun, 11 Sep 1994 16:42:40 GMT



	[ADMIN STUFF]  I don't precisely remember where things were left
			when JOI died at the end of the last class year.
			So if I'm doubling on something I already did,
			it's a refresher for y'all.  

	Recap:  As Alarond's player bows out of the story the poor sprite
		has been severely mauled by a newly deceased creature.
		Coltren has discarded his illusions masking him for Aleric,
		and Kyar has traced him here and seen how he fought the
		deceased creature.



	Coltren pulls Alarond's cloak around the bleeding body and gathers the
sprite into his arms, lifting carefully.  Alarond lets his eyes fall shut, and
lapses into unconsciousness from loss of blood and pain combined.  Turning
slowly, Coltren tries to remember where he saw that temple where the
priestesses dwelled.  Perhaps Alarond would make it if the priestesses took
care of him; the Lyorn knew he certainly wasn't able to provide what Alarond
needed.

	He had taken but a single step out of the alley when a slight motion at
the end caught his attention.  Coltren glanced up sharply, acutely aware of his
vulnerable position.  There was no way he could reach a weapon to defend
himself without first dropping Alarond and doing further damage to him. 
Nevertheless, the Lyorn instinctually dropped to a crouch as he sought the
source of the movement.

	"Kyar," he said, releasing a sigh of bated breath.  Coltren relaxed his
crouch and stood.  The Phadran's eyes met his, wary, but not openly hostile. 
It took the Lyorn a moment to remember he was no longer disguised as Aleric,
and Kyar couldn't possibly miss that fact even in the darkness.  Those two had
spent enought time together to know each other well.  "I can explain, but let
it wait.  Please.  Come with me to take Alarond to help."

	
-- 
Heather Sexauer
Muskingum College
hsexauer@muskingum.edu

	
	Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his
	hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats.

					-- H.L. Mencken