From alt.pub.dragons-inn Thu Dec 15 17:09:31 1994 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:7974 Path: netcom.com!ix.netcom.com!howland.reston.ans.net!news.cac.psu.edu!news.pop.psu.edu!psuvax1!news.cc.swarthmore.edu!mac02.pittenger.swarthmore.edu!user From: kgallup1@cc.swarthmore.edu (medea) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [LTBYLBF] - Another Joins Date: 15 Dec 1994 15:18:54 GMT Organization: a small college somewhere Lines: 150 Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Host: mac02.pittenger.swarthmore.edu Mime-Version: 1.0 Content-Type: text/plain; charset=US-ASCII Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit ADMIN: Authors: Kim Gallup ..........Miniver Lindsay Taylor .........Shale Riva, Allis Thorn Alan Smith ........ It should be noted that the mage Allis Thorn in this thread is *not* the Archmage of Politics at the local Mage Guild. He is an extra-dimensional traveller with a lot more interest in world destruction than world politics. Thanks to Steve Hutchinson for pointing this out. All characters are copyright their respective authors and shouldn't be used, copied etc. without their permission. Exceptions will be made for normal archiving. All rights reserved. Credit to Brett Rudnick for the look and feel of this notice. _______________________________________________ Miniver wasn't really thinking about anything in particular. The streetshow had gone well, she'd have to remember to pair up with Urth again, and her pouch was full of her cut of the small denom coins that had been scattered into Urth's fiddle case. She rolled her shoulder, concerned she'd done it some damage on that last triple flip, but nothing seemed wrong. Well, she'd probably ache tomorrow morning, but so went it. She'd stretch when she got back to the loft, and that was about the extent of what she could do. The coins should stretch to buy her a goodly chunk of cheese and Meg a posy or some herbs, whichever came to hand. But that could wait for tomorrow, she was around the corner from Meg's shop, and at this hour of the evening, pickings would be slim. She adjusted the staff in its position over her shoulder, more out of habit than any discomfort. The brightly colored ribbons fluttered in the night air, and the bells she had yet to remove jangled. Suddenly, a large and darkly clothed man man stumbled from the air and almost into her. She backpeddled and he missed, hitting the ground with a sickening thud. Seeing as how he was sprawled face down, there was little she could see of the man. He was large and seemed thickly built, clothed in simple dark clothing with a standard sheath at his side. She could not tell his true build, for where the tunic did not cover him, a thick padding of black bandages did. He had ended up with his head turned towards the side when he fell, and she could see the inhumanly pale skin of his face, drawn tight against his cheekbones by pain. Even in the depths of his unconscious, it was obvious he was in serious pain, his brow furrowed and his entire body clenched tight. The feathered shaft of a short missile was buried in his back. From its size Miniver judged it probably from a crossbow. She hoped it wasn't poisoned. She bent to touch his exposed neck, thinking her problems were solved if he was dead and yet, for one reason or another, hoping he wasn't. She muttered as she made contact. "Whate'er am I to do with you, darlin'?" He shied away from her touch, though he could barely move, and remained decidedly unconscious. Heavy steps sounded from her left and she turned in that direction, unthinkingly moving so as to be between the steps and the man lying at her feet. Three rough men rounded the corner at a goodly pace and stopped dead when they saw her, bumping into each other with a distinct lack of grace. Again, without thinking, she began to size them up. Clumsy and slow-moving, potentially armed. One spoke with a rough growl. "Step away from him, girlie, and we'll all be happy." Miniver moved slowly to one side, but still nearer the body than the men were. They began to approach the body, still watching Miniver, and from the third man came a flash of exposed metal. Her suspicions confirmed, Miniver tightened her grasp on her staff, and stepped between the body and men and asked slowly. "What would you be wantin' with him, kind sirs?" Moving quickly, more quickly than she expected, but still too slowly, the three men moved at her, exposing their daggers as they came. This made up her mind. Not that they deserved to be killed for being stupid, but stupid and ill-intentioned and wandering around so close to her Meg. She settled into a combat stance, deciding to allow them the delusion that she was only going to defend and hand them the advantage. If they had been looking, which they weren't, they would have noticed Miniver's grip shift slightly on her staff. It came whipping forward catching the leading man along the side of his head and sending him flying into the alley wall. He hit it with a sickening thud and a distinct crack, ending up with his head lying unnaturally. The remaining thugs looked at this slight staff-wielding figure in a completely new light. They began to circle her, one heading behind her back, towards the stranger. She followed him, dancing lightly in contrast to the grim look that had come across her face. The ribbons and bells on her staff shook and jingled in the wind, and for a second, she smiled. Somehow this combination of motions had half-roused the stranger from his unconscious state. He moaned quietly and eeriely and then said a distinct Word. Suddenly night turned into day as a huge roaring blast of fire was conjured into being from directly in front of the man. The blast shot straight up into the air, narrowly avoiding the overhanging slums. The blast barely missed Miniver, and she knew there would be singe marks. This had the effect of stunning all three of the still moving participants of the tableau. Somehow the corpse seemed unimpressed, and the stranger had lasped immediately back into unconsciousness, though he was nowhere near so quiet anymore, muttering nearly continuously. Shaking off the effects of her amazement more quickly than the thugs, her staff flickered again, this time destroying the left knee of the man nearest the stranger, sending him crashing to the ground, in the opposite direction as the stranger. She turned to confront the last man, her face becoming even grimmer. The staff stood between them, almost a real and sentient presence, dirtied with the gore that had once served the man behind her as a knee. Somehow the singed ribbons gave an air of absurdity and pathos to the whole proceedings. She met the thug's eyes with her own, usually a mistake in battle, but she knew not this time. He met her gaze and then tore his eyes away and fled down the same alley from which they had come. She gave quick thought to pursueing him, it seemed a good idea, particularly if this stranger was being hunted, but a groan from behind her settled the issue. She turned towards the crippled thug and with the end of her staff, hit him in the side. His knife fell from his nerveless hands and as he laid stunned and gasping, she quickly snapped her knife out and knelt behind him. Calmly reversing it, she rapped him behind the ear with its hilt, and then, as the light went out of his eyes, with equal calmness cut his throat. After making sure in a similar manner that her first opponent was going to stay dead, and cleaning her weapons she turned towards the stranger again. "I'm goin' to need a name for you sometime soon, tall, dark and handsome," she muttered quietly. "but before I get that, I'm goin' to need to take you home. You'd best be worth it." She laid her pale hand on his shoulder, near the bolt and he lapsed into silence. Crouching beside him, she considered her options. Leave him here and go get Meg, or get him home herself. Leaving him alone, hunted as he seemed, did not strike her as a wise idea and fueled by stubborness and urgency, she began to drag him around the corner to the back door of Meg's bakery. As she lugged the dead weight of the man, she heard shouts from the same direction the thugs had come and the sound of still more heavy footsteps gave her the burst of strength she needed to get him around the corner. Authors: Kim Gallup ..........Miniver Lindsay Taylor .........Shale Riva, Allis Thorn Alan Smith ........ It should be noted that the mage Allis Thorn in this thread is *not* the Archmage of Politics at the local Mage Guild. He is an extra-dimensional traveller with a lot more interest in world destruction than world politics. Thanks Steve Hutchinson for pointing this out. All characters are copyright their respective authors and shouldn't be used, copied etc. without their permission. Exceptions will be made for normal archiving. All rights reserved. Credit to Brett Rudnick for the look and feel of this notice.