From alt.pub.dragons-inn Sun Apr 9 13:19:21 1995 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:8281 Path: netcom.com!csus.edu!decwrl!spool.mu.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!news.sprintlink.net!uunet!dziuxsolim.rutgers.edu!er7.rutgers.edu!not-for-mail From: jimmoore@eden.rutgers.edu (James Moore) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: darkness continued Date: 3 Apr 1995 14:42:48 -0400 Organization: Rutgers University Lines: 68 Distribution: world Message-ID: <3lpfj8$rd6@er7.rutgers.edu> NNTP-Posting-Host: er7.rutgers.edu The nine men sat and waited, taking neither food nor drink. They were here to meet somone, but who? No one in the pub even knew the purpose of these men, let alone wished to converse with them. The water that clung to their cloaks made them shine as if they glowed. Some ventured to think that it was not the water that made them glow. The men all appeared to be Human, that was apparent, but as to whetherthey were still Human inside no one could say. An hour later a lone merchant came in. He was a jovial man and good-natured, his plump body was bulging at the seems of a suit that no longer fit him. Then he looked at the nine men and a grim expression of horror crossed his face. He started to run for the door, but the fat merchant was no match for the group of Hell-Spawned spectors. The biggest of the men grabbed the poor merchant by the shirt and with one hand lifted him into the air. "Tristan, long time no see. Look, I was going to pay you the rest, but I was side-tracked," the merchant began, his voice pleading. A single slap from the big man shut him up before he could continue his babbling. Then the one named Tristan spoke up, "You cheated our master, you were not intending to ever pay us back. But now we are here to collect you." His voice made the man, and many others in the bar, shudder. Tristan's tone was calm, yet terrorfying. The merchant was scared, and with good reason. He was staring death in the face and he knew his life was about to end. Then the big man threw the fat little merchant out into the darkness of the street outside. "Don't worry, we are not going to kill you, yet. First we are going to collect our debt and then kill you." The statement came from the mouth of the littlest man of the nine. His tone was mocking and vicious. "Boy, what we're gonna do to you..." "Banshee, don't let him know what is in store for him," Tristan laid a hand on his comrade. "First we must contact the master. Ready yourselves." The merchant was tied to one of the dark stallions and got a first-hand view of the ceremony that was to occur. The nine men formed a perfact circle with each other, rose their right arms into the circle, and took off their gloves. Each man had a ring, what was on those rings no one could see, but they all appeared to be identicle. Then they started to speak in order: "Tristan. Contact." "Wolf. Contact." "Sabrecat. Contact." "Enforcer. Contact." "Darkhawk. Contact." "Shadowfox. Contact." "Banshee. Contact." "Thunder. Contact." "Titan. Contact." They were all speaking their names. Apparently to activeate their rings. The air around them cracked, the Darkness parted, The rain no longer fell in the circle. The men became oblivious to their surroundings. Then they spoke once more, but in a single, monotone voice, making it impossible to determine one from the other. As they spoke an image appeared of a human wizard. They spoke in their monotone voice: "Lord Trenner Daires, Grand Wizard of all the Lands, we your servants bring you good news. I have captured the merchant, Loritne, what will you have done with him?" The image spoke and Lightning sliced the air as he spoke, "Kill him, his life is forfeit, make him suffer." "Thy will be done," sounded the voice of the nine men. Then the image faded away into the darkness. The nine became separate once more. They grabbed the merchant and threw him to the ground. The one named Banshee drew a knife and approached the helpless man. Then instead of slicing his throat he sliced the man's bonds. "Run," he said. If you can escape us then we will spare your life. You have a head-start for as long as it takes us to eat a nice leisurely dinner in the pub. So don't waste time." With that they shoved the man into the darkmness and then turned around and walked back into the pub. If any of you out there think this is an interesting story and wish to become involved and create a thread, then do so. My e-mail address is: jimmoore@eden.rutgers.edu See you on the field of battle! --James Moore, Master Storyteller