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- From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner)
- Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
- Subject: [AG/BH/NERC/NL] Scatterings of what's been going on over here...
- Date: 29 Dec 1992 07:55:24 GMT
- Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio (USA)
- Lines: 130
- Message-ID: <1hp09cINN812@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu>
- NNTP-Posting-Host: hela.ins.cwru.edu
-
-
- The newly-rebuilt door to the Drift Inn splintered, throwing scraps of
- rottenwood well into the room. A man dressed in black silk with silver
- edges walked calmly in, sweating profusely as if he'd spent the day hiking
- in the desert even as he brushed the snow from his shoulders. Ghurney
- dropped her serving tray, spilling a few glasses of watered down ale, and
- walked out of the dark half of the Inn. The customers nearby scattered.
- The man studied the tremendous form that is barely recognizable as female
- as it stormed its way to him. /What is ogre blood doing here?/ he thought.
-
- "Now just what do you mean by coming in here like that?" she began,
- raising an arm to swat him back out the door. He stepped out of her way as
- she swung. He caught her next swing with one hand and sent a serge of
- electricity down her arm.
-
- "Woman," he said. "I am hot. Bring me some ice water."
-
- She rubbed her arm, nodded, and walked back into the darkness. He
- remained where he was, surveying the Inn, until she returned. He drank the
- mug of water she brought him and handed her a gold piece. She stared at it
- in awe.
-
- "Bring a pitcher next time," he said, but she was already non-existant
- in his mind. He traced a few intricate patterns in the air, mumbled
- something, and turned in a full circle. He nodded to himself and traced
- some more patterns and rubbed ash over his eyes. He turned again and
- stopped facing the fireplace. There, under several weeks of ash and burnt
- wood, lay the book he was looking for.
-
- <DAMN YOU EFFANDIR> he thought.
-
- - - -
-
- Medor hops out of the fireplace and lands under a table. /Gotta get to
- a place where I can find him,/ he thinks. He jumps and twists, digging his
- claws into the underside of the table and proceeds to crawl to it's edge.
- As he tries to pull himself to the top, he brushes the arm of one of the
- rabble who was sitting there.
-
- "Auch!" the man screams as he jerks back his arm. "It tried to burn
- me!" He slams his fist into the table, knocking it over if not breaking
- it, and sending Medor sailing, knee high almost to the other side of the
- room.
-
- Listener is already playing some relaxing music.
-
- - - -
-
- Artimian brushes past this... Arthsplunt, almost not hearing his
- introduction. He kneels by Miscrir, tears his shirt open, and rests his
- hands on the wound. The cold blood slides through his fingers and he
- closes his eyes. The words of a prayer in a foreign language drift quietly
- across Miscrir's body and the wounds begin to heal. His breathing becomes
- more natural, but the wound does not close and he remains unconscious.
- Artimian whispers the prayer again...
-
- And again...
-
- - - -
-
- Nercrum smiled as he saw the vampire child kill and destroy the remains
- of a useless human. /I'm getting to be like them. But a little better, I
- think./ He mentally signaled for his zombies to spread out in Low City.
- Certainly there would be some useful material just laying around.
-
- He had more important things to attend to, though. He needed to mark
-
-
- his place so he would be recognized. He purposely stepped into a darker an
- less accessible alley, waiting for the two thugs he felt trying to sneak
- upon him. Maybe this would provide a more desirable hunting ground for
- those three. A curse, a deathwish on another human, passes through the
- aether beside him, distracting him for a moment.
-
- A sword is placed at his neck close enough that any movement would slice
- his arteries and a hand grabs his chin. /So it begins./
-
- A broken, dirty voice says, "Give me-" Nercrum whirls in the man's
- grasp and shoves a dagger to its hilt through the man's heart. As the
- man's life blood flows over Nercrum's wrist, he smiles in near ecstasy,
- absorbing the energy from it. His other hand flashes and catches the
- shoulder of the second would be mugger. He looks in horror at Nercrum's
- slit throat as his own face wrinkles, grows hard, and begins to fall from
- his bones. The third man drops his sword, but is too terrified to run.
-
- "Go," Nercrum says. "Tell your friends, and especially Chicele that I
- am here." The man flees at the first sound of Nercrum's voice. Nercrum
- smiles, knowing he will remember the words, probably for the rest of his
- life. Then he gestures at the two corpses and they rise to follow him.
-
- - - -
-
- Most of the slaves fled when Toscon had dive-bombed Mr. Shedrick,
- changing from eagle form at the last instant to open his chest with his
- short sword. A few loyal ones stayed to fight, but Toscon had never been
- the one to remain in one place during combat. He fought a cook down the
- hallway and was forced into a corner when the cook was joined by Mr.
- Shedrick's son. Fortunately, neither was experienced in the ways of
- fighting and the cook fell. He chased the son up the stairs and made the
- mistake of killing him just as Mrs. Shedrick arrived to see what the
- commotion was...
-
- Effandir had taken the frontal approach and had killed four slaves at
- the doorway. He shoved the bodies out of the way and stepped into the
- house. Toscon was furiously warding off the lady Shedrick's attacks as
- they both stumbled down the stairs. Toscon was definitely loosing.
- Effandir quickly walked towards them, praying, <Cyric, you know I need
- these friends, so I choose my daily gift now!> His hand reached out and
- caught hold of lady Shedrick's arm. She cried out, then crumpled at the
- bottom of the stairs as Effandir's wounds closed.
-
- Effandir grinned. "You see to what that guy that hired us want's now
- and I'll finish whoever's in here." Then he helped Toscon up from the
- floor and walked down the hallway.
-
- <DAMN YOU EFFANDIR> slammed though his skull. He staggered against a
- wall, thinking, /Not yet... damn you back, not yet!/ Then a heavy hand
- landed on the back of his neck and he slid silently down the wall.
-
- The cook smiled, a little blood trickling down his chin.
-
- Brought to you from all of me (well almost):
- "Bartender, I believe I'll have another pitcher of water..."
- (Artimian Yauntir of Elturel)
- Nercrum: "In the long run, we're all dead." - John Maynard Keynes
- Grin - Medor the Night Lizard
- ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
- + Toscon- Life is to long to play it safe. +
- ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
- Life is a swamp. And above the swamp, there is fog.
-