From alt.pub.dragons-inn Wed Oct 11 07:44:50 1995 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:8790 Path: netcom.com!ix.netcom.com!howland.reston.ans.net!newsfeed.internetmci.com!chi-news.cic.net!uwm.edu!caen!reeve.research.aa.wl.com!WS008013F18C2D!simonj From: simonj@rh.wl.com (Jeff Simon) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Jake Shade] Prologue: An Ill Wind . . . . (Repost) Date: Wed, 11 Oct 1995 01:00:50 EDT Organization: Parke-Davis Rochester Lines: 75 Message-ID: NNTP-Posting-Host: 198.205.215.16 X-Newsreader: Trumpet for Windows [Version 1.0 Rev B final beta #4] ********************************************************** This event takes place about six weeks ago in current Generican time. ********************************************************** Prologue: An Ill Wind . . . . There is a windswept plain to the south of Generica, a desolate place where nothing grows, and where no living creature ever ventures. In the middle of that plain, there stands an ancient ruin; a temple built of rough stones. Whatever god the temple was raised to has forsaken this place; so long ago that another decade of time's carress will have erased any sign that this place was here at all. Tonight, like every other night for the past one thousand years, a mournful wind howls through the empty halls. It gives voice to the ghosts that walk between the crumbling pillars. It tosses the bones of nameless martyrs across cracked floors as if they were the toys of some mischievous child. Yet tonight, on this night unlike countless nights past, something is different. There is the promise of something in the air tonight. The promise of . . . a happening. Something is coming to this place. Something that makes even these long dead and uncaring phantoms look up from their mindless haunts and take note. Over the altar, there is a glow. A glow so small and so faint that it may have been there all along . . . but now it is growing brighter. It grows brighter, and then even brighter, until it takes on the aspect of an open door. Through that door comes a white radiance before which no darkness can stand; a radiance so bright that the ghosts cry out in fear of something they cannot name. They cringe behind the shelter of the ancient pillars. Then the doorway is gone. Vanished perhaps, or just faded back into imperceptibility. Yet where it once shone so brightly, there now stands a man. A man with terrible scars on his hands and eyes that seem a thousand years old. For a long moment he stands there, while around him the wind keens like an army of the damned. Then he begins to move. He walks toward the north, leaving the temple to the wind and its ghosts. **************************************************************************** This portion of the Outlander Chronicles was originally posted on May 6th, 1995. Jake Shade is a copyright of Jeff A. Simon, all rights reserved. Republication or reposting of this or any portion of the story is prohibited without the permission of the author. This story may be archived to A.P.D.I. and Games.FRP. Archives and distibuted for private use to those who request it from the keepers of those Archives. Copyrighted 1995. ***************************************************************************** -- The opinions expressed in this message are mine alone. This message does not necessarily reflect the positions or opinions of my company or organization.