From alt.pub.dragons-inn Mon Apr 3 18:31:20 1995 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:8247 Path: netcom.com!ix.netcom.com!howland.reston.ans.net!news.starnet.net!wupost!psuvax1!uwm.edu!cs.utexas.edu!swrinde!pipex!warwick!news.shef.ac.uk!newsmaster@sheffield From: E.A.Laycock@shef.ac.uk (Liz) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: Gnome or away? [was new face] Date: 3 Apr 1995 06:45:18 GMT Organization: Earth Sciences Unit (gl), University of Sheffield , UK Lines: 87 Message-ID: <3lo5hu$i20@hippo.shef.ac.uk> NNTP-Posting-Host: pc041120.shef.ac.uk X-Newsreader: WinVN 0.92.1 The elves James Moore The gnomes Liz (copyright D.Morgan, K.Riekstins, E.Laycock,I.Walker, 1995) The Elves look at you, some with disdain and others with indifference. Your comrade also seems to be an Elf. Now that you can see the newcomers better, you understand (well those of you that are well travelled) why there is an air of secrecy to these Elves. The first is your friend. His name is Fango, if that be his first or last name no one knows. to his left is a long-haired Elf with a golden earring. He is instantly recognized as Weehawk Darkwolf, a well-knowm and very high-paid mercenary. Next to him is a dark-skinned Elf with a leather jacket and a tattoo of an odd dagger on his face over the area of his right eye, practically taking up his entire face. the final man you cannot seem to identify, he appears to be Elf but you really cannot be sure. The first of the women is also a mercenary, Fyre(pronounced FEAR) Torryl, a rather good-looking woman, but not one to triffle with. Then the last girl seems to occupy your complete attention. Her look is like that of a lady, but yet has the manner of a warrior of the highest caliber. She is Diana(that's pronounced DEANNA) Bluerock, a famed warrior from a family of females. her graceful manner makes her look innocent as a lamb, and the knowledge that she is a virgin enraptures you.(the females of her family remain virgins until they are married, at which time they retire and raise a family. Since she is out adventuring you know that she is unmarried.) The Elf with the tattoo looks at you, his red eyes burning holes into your chest. "And what pray-tell do you think you are doing?" His tone tells you that he is annoyed. "Don't you know that it is impolite to sit where you are not invited?" He starts to get up, his hand on his sword, when Diana puts a reassuring hand his arm. "Ghaunden, they mean no harm and you are being impolite to them." Her tone was as gentle as her nature. He put his weapon away and sits down. "Very well, but do not expect me to like it." Upon hearing his name you all suddenly realize who the dark Elf is. He has the nickname "the Light of Death" a fitting name, considering all those that he has killed in his short lifetime. When he sits down his jacket opens and you can see, clear as day that he is wearing Gnomish armor of exceptionally high quality. Then without warning, a woman on the other side of the tavern screams once and slumps forward into her dinner, dead. The Elves reacted to the woman's death rather indifferently, like it did not matter to them. How odd you think that Elves would be so cold. The town constable was called in to see what had happened, but no one could say anything. No one was able to say that they had seen the crime of poisoning the woman by any one given person. It was bizarre. Now the woman was known by virtually everyone there and she was not the sort of person to take her own life. And no one had been allowed to leave the tavern since the vile deed was commited. "Does anyone have anything useful to contribute to the situstion?" The constable was furious. To commit a murder in his town was an outrage and no one would leave here until the crime was solved. The gnomes look at one another and shruged, although the small, pretty female mutters something under her breath and then whispers something to the very oldest gnome. D'nal pulled on her earrings, a sure sign that she was worried. She undid the fillet of leather that held her hair, and shook the shoulder-length locks down. Her hair is outlandishly striped in red and black bands, although this is virtually unnoticable when tied back. She pulls her hair back and re-ties it. "Well, I don't know about you," she says. "But I could do with a drink. Tem, it's your round" She gets up and gives him a hand back with enough tankards to sate the thirst of the entire company, and has a quiet talk with the old cleric at the bar. She sits down at the table. "By the way" she says, looking at Ghaunden, "n-i-c-e armour!" she says it with genuine respect, her eyes travelling over the entire suit. Her own suit of armour is of good quality, but without all the fine embellishments. "Mellie, you have something to say?" Temoc nods at the pretty young gnome. Mellie stands up. "This is no ordinary murder, there is a magic of some sor involved, an illusion perhaps, I'm not sure" she is blushing. Temoc takes a sneaky look at the female elves, and smiles to himself, possibly hoping for a chance of a little hands on healing... "Put it back" says D'nal, looking straight up, deliberately not looking at anyone in particular. Nedel glares at her and slinks back into the crowd near the bar. "It's always the same when he's quiet" says D'nal. Now, all we need is an expert on how she was killed, and we can get out of here! __________________________The Dark Angel _________________________ The ardour of red flame is thine, / and thine the steely soul of ice: Thou poisonest the fair design / Of nature, with unfair device. Thou art the wisper in the gloom, / The hinting tone, the haunting laugh: Thou art the adorner of my toom, / The minstrel of mine epitaph. Dark Angel, with thine aching lust / Of two defeats, of two despairs: Less dread, a change to drifting dust, / Than thine eternity of cares _________(from the poem by Lionel Johnson 1867-1902)______________________ *******Don't you hate people who have sigs longer than their letters, I'm sure it's the sign of a sick and twisted mind !!!! *******