Path: netcom.com!csus.edu!decwrl!decwrl!olivea!uunet!utcsri!newsflash.concordia.ca!si fon!VM1.MCGILL.CA From: BGHO@MUSICB.MCGILL.CA (BGHO) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Jiri]: A Dream of Darkness. Message-ID: <01APR93.23086916.0124@VM1.MCGILL.CA> Date: 2 Apr 93 02:22:36 GMT Sender: usenet@MUSICB.MCGILL.CA Organization: McGill University Lines: 86 Nntp-Posting-Host: vm1.mcgill.ca [admin]: This takes place just after the post [Jiri] the Wolmage has come, and continues through the dinner that Kyhra, Andrea, Sheryl, 'Raelf and ar'Elya are having. Jiriku had left Kyhra in the Inn to sleep the Sleep of the Sylvan and walk the Dreamlands. The Wolfmage turned away from his furry friend and walked towards the shadows in the nearby corner of the Dragon Inn. As the shadows met with his form, he melded with them, darkening, then dissapearing. He walked through the Shadowhall for a short distance, then opened a door from the seemless wall. Stepping through, he walked from the shadows, just as he had earlier entered them. He was no longer in the Inn- in fact he was much further from it than the ten paces he had taken should indicate. A deer drank deeply from a silver brook that ran nearly through the middle of a clearing which was surrounded by dark and ancient trees. As the elf walked out of the shadows of the trees, the deer started, for no scent nor sound had warned of an approach. As the doe turned to bolt for the safety of the trees, a quiet hushing breeze blew round her head, calming her. She turned back to the newcomer to the clearing and a joyful light glinted in the nearly black eyes as she saw that the figure who had startled her was one of the Fair Ones. "My apologies, great mother, for my sudden appearance. I meant not to startle you," a gentle voice passed into her thoughts. The doe walked calmly over to the sender of the voice, who extended a graceful hand to scratch the spots behind the ears. "I am in need of answers, mother. The wind blows wrong, and the streams are no longer as clear. The air smells not sweet, and the shadows appear deep." The doe tossed her head in a sort of agreement as Jiriku continued to scratch her perpetual itch. "What causes the rabbit to start, and the bird to flee? What causes the fox to hunt the farmers chicken, and the eagle to fly so low?" The doe looked the Sylvan in his golden eyes. As she gazed into his shimmering depths, the eyes changed, first seeming to darken, then almost swirl as they took on a greenish blue tinge. The colour of the sea... "Ah, great mother, I see what you feel. The answer lies with the sea, though it causes question in the forest." Jiriku seemed not to be looking at the deer anymore, but at something only he saw, something within his own eyes. "Then I must go to the sea," he continued after a long moment. "The sea, for it is there that haunts the beast, there that ails the forest. Thank you, mother, for your insight. Ever do your kind know, and see, and ever have you shown the Sylvan. My people are ever grateful for your help, ever admiring of your beauty." The doe tossed her head once more, as if to wave off the compliment. "Go know mother, go to your children. Guard them well, for they are your greatest prize. I must go now, to another forest, and the sea. I go to walk the Dreampaths." Jiriku's hand fell away from the does ear, and she turned and ran smoothly from the clearing into the depths of the great trees. Jiriku sighed as he took a look around the clearing. Yes, he must walk the Dreams, and try to find that which was plauging him with ill forebodings. He walked to the brook and touched its waters, then drank deeply of its sweet depths. A moment longer he stood looking into the swirling waters, then he broke the gaze and walked to the clearings center. The Wolfmage touched briefly the amulet that hung around his neck, the Ahnk that Dargon had worn for all those centuries, the one that he had given Jiriku when last he had seen him. When he named me Wolfmage, Jiriku thought painfully. A day of pain it was, but of triumph as well. "Well my friend, you named me aright, and I hope that I have lived up to your expectations. I vowed that I would think of you always ere walking the Dreampaths, though it's not often that you are ever far from my thoughts. Where are you, Dargon? Where did the great Watcher go? Even the dragons know not where you be. That I find most strange. Ah, but I dally. Perhaps my best place to seek thee lies in the road ahead. My people have always spoken so, yet now when I seek something I listen not to their redes. Ah, but it has been long since last I dreamed." With that, Jiriku began to sing, his voice almost indestinguishable from that of the brook. As it grew in strength, slowly, it seemed as if the water itself did. The sad voice of the Sylvan carried quietly on the still breeze, and wherever the animals of the forest heard it, they paused and listened, for he sang the Lament of Ton'githala. The oldest of all musics calmed the forest, as the Wolfmage began to enter the sleep of his people. It is hard to say how long he sang, for even time seemed to pause to listen with the woods. But the song began to fade, and when it was no longer heard at all, though it still whispered and echoed in the mind, Jiriku Goldeies was gone from the living and waking world. - Dani Treutler. (will be continued soon...) Path: netcom.com!csus.edu!decwrl!decwrl!elroy.jpl.nasa.gov!swrinde!zaphod.mps.ohio-st ate.edu!darwin.sura.net!news-feed-1.peachnet.edu!umn.edu!CSM560.smsu.edu!vma.sm su.edu.Ext!CHM173S From: bgho@musicb.mcgill.ca (Kalhad the Black) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Storm] [Jiri] [AU] Darkness Hits Date: Fri, 02 Apr 93 01:03:34 CST Organization: National Wizard Service--Weather Division Lines: 247 Message-ID: <16BA4EE6.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> NNTP-Posting-Host: vma.smsu.edu Keywords: [Storm] [Jiri] [Wizard] Kyhra Jiri Andrea Sheryl unicorn X-Newsreader: NNR/VM S_1.3.2 ~Date: Fri, 02 Apr 93 01:14:59 EST ~From: Kalhad the Blackk To: ~Subject: [jiri] [storm] [au]: Darkness Hits [admin]: Thanks to Chris Meadows for the great storm idea, and the use of his characters, Andrea and Sheryl. I hope I didn't use them too poorly. ;) Cheers, Chris. [note from Chris]: Don't worry, Kalhad, you didn't. :) Kyhra groaned and rolled over, trying to escape the sliver of sunshine that kept snaking its way through the cracked shutters and into his face. Finally, after much tossing and turning, and much more cursing, he sat up, deciding that he'd get no more sleep that morn. Sitting up was a bad idea. The blood rushed out, then slammed back in as his head came up too quick, resulting in a deafening (for Kyhra anyways) crack on his sore skull from the inside out. After taking a moment to steady himself, the huge Kalnarian looked--slowly--around the room he was in, trying to place himself. Dammit, he thought, where in the nine hells am I? After a few minutes, his head stopped its throbbing and he was able to stand. His sword and belt lay across a chair that was in pitiful repair and his cloak lay crumpled on the floor of the tiny room. Kyhra muttered another curse at himself for not remembering where it was that he had spent the night, nor how he got there. He began to rise slowly, to be sure that he didn't get another head rush, and when none came, he stood up more quickly, only to crack his head on the low ceiling. A terrible roar of pain and rage was heard downstairs and out upon the street and many crossed themselves and shuddered, looking nervously around for its source. It's soure was, of course, a severely hung over feline warrior, who had smoked his acheing head against the very same beam on that low ceiling that he had before going to bed. That beam was the source of his headache in the first place, that and all the dwarven ale he had consumed at the Chimera last night. Gently massaging the tender spot, Kyhra sat back down and slowly the nights events came back to him. After the dinner he had had with Andrea, Sheryl, 'Raelf and ar'Elya, he had left the Dragons Inn to look for information--and more drink. He'd gone down to the Scrappy Ram first, but found little besides good ale. The 'Cobra didn't even have that, but he'd won some money on a fight. And a good fight it was that he had. That stinking troll had been far to sure of himself, and hadn't expected that the man-cat would have anywhere near the speed that he has. A big mistake, that many opponents make when facing the massive feline. After the fight, he'd headed to the Harbour. It was there that he found what he was looking for. He'd also won more money betting on the knife fights at one of those bars, though he didn't participate in them this time. It was at Ratty's that Kyhra had met a man who told him what he wanted to know. Cain _was_ running a ship, and it had left on a trading (smuggling, Kyhra immediately decided) run some time ago. It was due back in Generica soon, though it didn't ever run a discernable pattern between ports. Kyhra didn't ask the greasy weasel-like sailor how he knew what he did, but he could sense that it was the truth--as far as the sailor thought, at any rate. It was after he left Ratty's that Kyhra had run into his trouble. It was trouble of a good kind, of course, for it really wasn't a problem until the next day. Which is this morning, he reminded himself, even though his head was doing a good enough job of it for him. He'd caught a scent of dwarves on the breeze, and more importantly, dwarven ale. He followed it the the local dwarves hangout, a bar called the Chimera, or something to that effect. Kyhra had always had a taste for Dwarven Ale, and loved the company of its brewers, and his arrival in Generica had changed nothing of his tastes. (Except maybe for a better appreciation of mages, one certain female one in particular. That vision that he had seen in ar'Elya's eyes had startled him at first, but it also gave him a keen interest in her.) He had spent the rest of the night drinking with his favourite warriors and his favourite drinking companions, no less. It was almost as if he were in the company of Ballethor and Kroth, and their fellow dwarves of the Grimmhaven. They were a people that seemed to change little, or not at all, no matter which land of which world you where in. As it turned out, a bunch of them took to the feline warrior as well, and engaged in a friendly game of Orcbane with six of the other patrons. Orcbane was an aptly named game, for it entailed the drinking of enough stout harsh ale to turn even an orcs stomach. Not many people besides the dwarves themselves can handle vast amounts of their ale. Luckily, Kyhra was one of the few. He had even nearly attempted to take a shot of the legendary drink of the Chimera, but by the time that somebody suggested it, he was too drunk to hold a glass steady, and was lapping his ale with his tongue, the way cats do. The walk--er... stumble--home was a vague spot in his hazy mind. He remembered the walk itself, just not how he had known which way to go. He'd found a scruffy inn and decided to stay there for the night, instead of going all the way back to the Dragon. Groaning once more, Kyhra stood, more careful about the ceiling this time, and picked his cloak up off the floor. Putting his belt back on, he fastened his scabbard to it, and slung his scimitar around to his left hip. He fastened his cloak and straightened it out as he stepped through the low door into an equally low hallway. After a few short paces, the ceiling heightened as the slope of the roof rose to its' peak. A creaking, cracking stariway led down to the small tavern room on the main floor. Kyhra decided not to stay for breakfast--he'd get better at the Dragon, and probably cheaper too. He couldn't remember paying for last nights lodging already, but nobody made a move to stop him as he left. Kyhra looked around, and noticed that it seemed a little darker out than it had when he woke up. Looking at the sky towards the sea, he could see that it was much darker than it should be at this time of day, even though no clouds showed above the buildings. Yet, he thought, for he could scent that a storm was on the way, even if he couldn't see it. And the scent was not good. This would not be a little squall, or heavy thunderstorm. This was a REAL storm coming, the kind that he hadn't experienced since the Dargon of the Dragons had unleashed the rain that had been held back for months over Wvendon. Magic had created that drought, and magic had ended it. He thought that perhaps there might be magic involved in this one too, for it had a similar scent. The catman shrugged and began to make his way towards Dragons Lane. The storm was coming, and there was nothing that he could do about it. It didn't take long to find the Lane, and he was surprised at how close he'd actually been to the Dragons Inn last night. Now why did he choose to stay in that little ramshackle place anyways? Again he shrugged, for there was nothing that he could do about drunken decisions of the past either. Just as the Dragons Inn came into sight, he heard a shouting commotion down the street behind him. Men shouting. Sounded like they were spreading a message though, as there was no clash of steel. By the time he reached the Inn, a red-faced man of the Sea Guard had overtaken him. He entered right behind the man as he shouted his warning of the storm to those within. A young looking seer in the corner jumped up and shouted something about hearing it here first, or somesuch. Kyhra looked around the Inn, then spotted Andrea and Sheryl talking to Littlefair at the bar, and made his way over to them. "Good morn to you, milady. And to you, noble creature of Sievnaer," he nodded to the two sisters. Before he could continue though, he heard a crash, then as he turned to look someone called his name. No, not just someone, it was his friend, the Wolfmage. "Kyhra! By the gods I'm glad I found you," Jiriku said quickly as he hurredly made his way over to join his companion. The elf had a harried look on his normally exquisite face, and his eyes did not softly sparkle the way they normally did. "Hold on, Jiri! Calm down...and why the flashy entrance? You don't normally enter a place with a bong and a flash," Kyhra commented slyly. "This is not a normal time, my friend. I had to break out of my sleep quickly. You know not to have expected me for another day or two, but I had to leave the Dreampaths. I had to come warn you." "About the storm? We already know. I had smelled it before the Sea Guard came and warned everybody. Is it magical, Jiri? I scented something in it, almost like when Dargon called the rain at Wvendon." "Dargon didn't call the rain, Kyhra, he merely released it from the magik that held it back. No, this is different. I think it _may_ have been summoned. There is nothing normal about it, as far as I can sense. But that's not all..." "You're starting to worry me, Jiriku Goldeies. Let's take this one step at a time. I've found Cain." "You found him? Where is he? I don't sense him anywhere nearby." "No, he's not here," Kyhra explained. "But he will be soon. He's running a ship on trading missions. He's due back within the fortnight. Maybe even sooner." "Are you sure it's him, Kyhra?" Jiriku asked cautiously. He knew than to get hopes up on false conclusions." "You want to know the name of his ship?" Kyhra immediately countered. "The Soulstar." "Yes Kyhra, you're right. It _is_ him. It could be no other. Only myself and your ancestors have left for other worlds since then. Cain as well, and maybe Dargon, but not even the gods now where that old wizard is. Yes, only Cain could name his ship after the doomstar." Suddenly Kyhra smacked himself in his still acheing forhead, wincing slightly, as he saw a curious white equine looking in what was almost awe at his elven friend. "Oh, by Thrakcs two beards, Jiri! How rude of me! I forgot to introduce you to our new companions." The Sylvan was admiring the young 'corn with nearly the same look. Kyhra had never seen Jiriku in awe of any living creature before, and he knew that elves seldom were. "I am truly honoured, Fairest One," came a clear voice into Sheryl's head, even thought the elf hadn't spoken. "It has been a time beyond reckoning since Sylvan eyes set upon one of the Purest. As the Prince of the Sylvan, I welcome the return of such sight, though I wish that I could instead be welcoming your kind once more unto the Sylvanwood." Then aloud, he spoke, "I am Jiriku Goldeies, Firstborn of the FirstLord and the Lady of Dai'Seppa. I am honoured beyond reckoning." The elf bowed low before Sheryl, his graceful movements almost seeming to speak of the depths of the honour he spoke of. If it was at all possible for a unicorn to blush, Sheryl would have then, for she had never had such an important seeming person bow like that to her. "And your name, little horn?" Jiriku asked when he had straightened. Even as Kyhra opened his mouth to speak her name, Jiriku continued, "Please to make thy aquaintance, Sheryl." At a curiously gaurded look from Sheryl, the Wolfmage explained, trying to set her at ease. "Always have my people had a kinship with the fair creatures of the forests. Worry not, I cannot, nor would, read your mind. I'll only hear what you tell me." Sheryl realized then that she _had_ nearly been screaming out her name inside her head. She then turned and trotted back over to Andrea, who was still talking to Littlefair about preparations for the storm. Jiriku and Kyhra followed her, and waited for Andrea to finish asking about the cellars and other safe places to hide. Kyhra nodded to the lady thief and indicated his elven friend with a furry paw. "Milord, this is Andrea, a brave and noble adventurer." Andrea gave the elf a slight curtsey and a smile. "Andrea, this is my companion and my ward. The Wolfmage, Prince Jiriku Goldeies of the Sylvanwood." Jiriku performed another graceful bow, though this one was not so formal as the previous. "I am enchanted to make thy aquaintence, Andrea. And please, just call me Jiriku. Kyhra always does try to make me sound more important than I really am." Here he gave the Kalnarian a joking reproachful look. "And I am delighted to meet you too, Jiriku. But right now there are more pressing matters at hand. That storm's still coming." "Yes, it is," Kyhra agreed. "They need help bagging up the Sea Wall. I'm going to head right down, if Littlefair is kind enough to pour me an ale first. I've got a splitting headache, and I'll need to dull it a little afore venturing into the very heart of noise itself!" The bartender gave Kyhra a knowing smile as he obliged to pour a good stout ale for him. "Here's just what you need my furry friend. A good Faerick Stout. It'll dull any pain, drink induced or not!" Kyhra gladly took the offered mug and tossed a silver to his kind saviour. Jiri laughed and slapped the warrior on the shoulder. "Don't ever change, Kyhra. I wouldn't know what to do with you if you did." Kyhra and Andrea joined him in the laugh, but it only lasted a moment and then serious expressions were worn again. "I would go with you Kyhra, but I would be of no help. Leaving the Dreamlands so suddenly and urgently drained me of my energy, both physically and mentally. I'll need to rest, and my skills will better be used here with the injured who will definitely come. I can manage to muster the strength for a few healing spells still, and my knowledge of healing is enough to do some good even without magik." Kyhra nodded and knocked back his ale. "Aye, I think you have it aright there my friend. Leave the work to us hale men, not the old doddering granthers like yourself." Jiri scowled. "Why you...watch that tongue, or you might find that it turns into that of a dog, and you'll be panting and drooling all over yourself." The scowl quickly turned into a smile and the two friends shared another laugh. "Well, now to get to it. Fare thee well, Wolfmage. Look after him for me Andrea. He tends to get himself into trouble when I leave him alone." "Oh, and you steer clear of it yourself, Kalnarian?" Jiriku flicked his hand and suddenly Kyhra was reminded of the hangover that he was nursing "Stop it, Jiriku. I don't use magik to make _your_ hangovers worse." Jiriku laughed and waved his hand again, removing the throbbing pain he had put on his friends head. "Godspeed, Kyhra, and tread carefully." The catman left with a fierce smile on his face and joined up with some of the others who were heading down to help with the Sea Wall. This storm was going to be unlike one he had ever see before, that he knew. -Dani Treutler. [Final note: This message has been reposted by Chris Meadows, chm173s@vma.smsu.edu. I have attempted to set the address in the header to that of Dani Treutler, but in case replies to it fail, well, his email address is right above this paragraph. :) ] ---Chris Meadows Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Path: netcom.com!csus.edu!wupost!uunet!pilchuck!li From: li@Data-IO.COM (Phyllis Rostykus) Subject: Re: [AU] [Kardia] My Dinner with Andrea Message-ID: <1993Apr5.052743.15654@data-io.com> Sender: news@data-io.com (The News) Organization: Data I/O Corporation References: <1993Apr1.063421.24176@data-io.com> Date: Mon, 5 Apr 1993 05:27:43 GMT Lines: 147 ADMIN - the >'ed lines are the tail end of Steven Hutchison's post titled "My Dinner with Andrea". Those keeping track of lines, please shut the door on [Kardia] as that one is now a part of the [AU] line. Also, I'm adding something to the bulletin board that says that Kardia's looking for a female roommate. Much thanks to Kelly Cooper for getting me into this, to Hutch for persisting in the face of idiotic mailers (and for the butterflies), to Chris for his amazing enthusiasm, and to both for their insane volume. Grin. It's actually getting me to write again... Liralen Li --------------- > "Why does this remind me of something? Never mind. Anyway, I bet > they still had their original body-images to revert to. But we'd have to > build a new one for Sheryl, probably with Andrea as template, and it would > most likely break down when your weavings got to it." Kardia smiled at 'Raelf's bet and nodded. Her brothers had actually changed back to human every night, which had made things a bit difficult then. Now she realized that this magician was quite correct in that their forms had been very much there for her to work to. The shirts she'd made for them had been fitted to them while they were human. Her eyes narrowed as she thought about the details of this working as she said, > "Perhaps not. It would be a difficult thing to work, though, > making the pattern sensitive to one spell without disturbing a > very similar spell." > > "Strewth, dudesse. Here, let me refocus - There, > see how the Unicorn pattern connects in these four places? Well, this black > one is the curse. The others are ones she grew, so they're natural to the > way she is now. So if the curse was to go, she'd still be a unicorn, but > she could be changed into other things if she wanted." > > "I see. Andrea, if you choose to have me remove the curse for you, > then I can do it, but as 'Raelf said, it may not return her to human. Are > you still interested?" > > Andrea sighed. "I think I need to talk to Sheryl for a while." Kardia nodded and smiled. She held her slender hand out for Sheryl to sniff and then gently scritched the tiny unicorn under the chin. "Can I find you here later, then? I'm staying at Mrs. Cludne's boarding house for this week and looking for a more open place to stay after that." She smiled, "A place that I could set up a wheel and loom, if possible, or even just a wheel." Andrea nodded, "We'll be here." ar'Elya said, "Littlefair maintains a bulletin board for ads, it might be a place to start to look for a long-term housing arraingement." Kardia nodded, "Thank you, I'll do that. I will check with you," she looked at Andrea, "as to any decisions, then, whenever I check up on wheither or not anyone's answered it... Oh..." she blinked as she remembered something. "'Raelf, you said you had someone else that might be able to use my capabilities? I'm pretty tired, right now, but maybe we could talk about it some other time?" She smiled, "It's been a pleasure to work with you and it'd be fun to look at some other curse that way. I'd never before seen what a curse looks like to someone else, outside of my head. The technology is fascinating." Carefully, she got up out of her chair, wincing a little as she stretched, and then bowing gently to all at the table. She left a tip on her own table and then limped over to Littlefair to pay for her meal. As she handed over the coinage she saw the board, looked it over once and frowned a little. More advertisements for adventures and hirings than something as prosaic as roomates. She shrugged and asked, "May I borrow a pen and have a piece of paper for your bulletin board?" as Littlefair handed over her change. "Sure." he handed them over. Kardia thought for a long moment, sighed, and then wrote: FEMALE ROOMATE/HOUSING WANTED Looking for a female housemate to share a house and expenses who doesn't mind late nights, no smoking... Kardia frowned, not having a clue what more to put on it, so that it would actually filter the kind of people that would answer it. Then she shook her head, grinned a crooked grin and added ... and Toad the Wet Sprocket on _Fear_. The one word is underlined. Littlefair didn't even blink at what was on it. He just read it and posted it and gave her a small nod. She grinned the crooked grin and limped out. It was dark now. Kardia breathed the coolness of the winter air into her lungs and let it go in a plume of body-heated steam and then turned back towards the Merchant's Hill and her bed at Mrs. Cludne's. The walk wasn't all that long, just a touch nerve wracking until she reached the Hill. That far of a walk managed to warm up all her stiff muscles, and she swung along quietly, thinking over the evening... remembering the colors that 'Raelf's eyes had turned, wondering if the Porter would have tasted anything like the guinesses that Alistair used to feed her, and being haunted by the silver web that was the patterns of power within the young unicorn. They had been so beautiful. She made it back to the house quickly, let herself in, locking the door behind her. She went to her room, quietly undressed, washed up and went to bed. All the while planning the making of Sheryl's cover. It would have to be in the shape of the unicorn as she was, to emphasize the shape that she was. Kardia fell asleep calculating the number of stitches she'd need to comfortably surround Sheryl's barrel... * * * It was with a sense of deja vu that Kardia realized she was dreaming again. A detached part of her mind worried over the fact that she was having this many lucid dreams in such a short interval. The rest of her was simply terrified by what she was watching. She didn't know why it terrified her so. The image was merely that of a dance of butterflies. She looked at the variety, the coloring, the flight pattern and saw that these were butterflies a continent away. Then she realized that what she'd first mistaken for sunlight was the presense of power. Power on a scale she'd never even imagined before, and with the kind of knowledge that is in dreams, she knew it was somehow connected to Generica. The realization of the source of her fear broke the dream. Kardia woke, drenched in sweat and looked out her window only to see brick and darkness. Not even the hint of either moonlight or sunlight. It was still night. She shivered and got out of bed long enough to pull some knitting from her bag, a thickly cabled pullover from plain wool. The terrifying flavor of that power was much like that in the dream that had first brought her into this city, but she still had no clue as to its source or its meaning. She lit the candle next to the bed and relaxed into the straightfoward task of putting one stitch after another onto the right needle. She would have to do Sheryl's unbinding in knitting unless she worked with the looms at the Guild, and she was reluctant to do her... she smiled at the word... disenchanting there. She worked at the sweater until the metallic taste of adrenaline faded from her mouth and she could relax enough to go back to sleep. -- Liralen Li | "... and how you feel can make it real aka Phyllis Rostykus | Real as anything you've seen... " li@Data-IO.com | Peter Gabriel _US_ Path: netcom.com!csus.edu!wupost!CSM560.smsu.edu!vma.smsu.edu.Ext!CHM173S From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] [Storm] [Jiri] The Storm Builds Date: Mon, 05 Apr 93 21:32:05 CDT Organization: FurryMUCK Unicorn Fan Club Lines: 118 Message-ID: <16BA712ED5.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> NNTP-Posting-Host: vma.smsu.edu Keywords: Andrea unicorn Sheryl Jiriku Kyhra [AU] [Jiri] [Storm] X-Newsreader: NNR/VM S_1.3.2 ADMIN: As always, thanks to the other authors in this thread [you must know who they are by now]. Thunder was sounding close by as Kyhra arrived at the seawall, to help with the sandbag reinforcement. The Seaguard supervisor took one look at him and pointed down the wall to an area where only a few men were working. Kyhra nodded, and walked down the path. As he looked out over the wall at the sea, he observed that the storm front was much closer, and looked much more ominous now--a solid grey-black wall, reaching up into the sky and across the horizon in either direction, and billowing ominously as it approached him. He could see individual tongues of lightning flickering out between cloud and sea now, and saw the first rough breakers crashing against the shore and up over the seawall, splattering many workers (himself included) with saltwater. Kyhra shook, and swore to himself, sharing to some degree the feline aversion to getting wet. As the wind from the sea picked up, Kyhra felt a chill from that water beginning to evaporate. "Pile those sandbags!" the supervisor bawled out over the thunder and rising wind. "The storm's almost here--we don't have much time!" Obediently, Kyhra put his back into it. The elevated level of the city made the seawall four feet high here, though the sea itself was about thirty feet below it on the other side. During normal times, anyway. Right now, the wind was whipping it into a violent frenzy and it was lapping in, breaking against the wall about halfway up it and sometimes slopping over the side. Kyhra lifted sandbag after sandbag, piling them atop the seawall with other workers. It soon became apparent that he was the most capable worker there, for his mighty thews could lift the bags of sand like humans lifted sacks of flour. The storm crept closer and closer... <> Andrea looked nervously out the door for the umpteenth time. Most everybody else had gone below into the cellars, but she had stayed up here, with Sheryl, because she wanted to watch the storm. Also, she got slightly claustrophobic in cramped spaces, and the cellar shelter now certainly was cramped. The Dragon's Inn common room was dim, lit only by a single lantern above Andrea's table--all the other lights were out and taken down to reduce the possibility of the Inn catching on fire. Outside, the storm raged. Littlefair'd had to bar the main doors, to keep the wind from splintering them, but the side door that opened into one of the blockaded alleys was still open for the sick and wounded. Right now, Littlefair was down below keeping order, and Jiriku was in the back, getting ready to treat the sick and wounded who would surely begin to pour in as soon as the storm stopped. Currently, the sound level was frightening. The wind howled outdoors like a demon's shriek, and every so often there was a CRASH! as it blew something down. There was the occasional creaking of the timbers inside the inn, but Andrea wasn't worried--the Dragon's Inn was one of the better-constructed buildings in this part of town. Lightning was active too, sometimes striking nearby with a deafening boom, which startled Sheryl. Carson the cat had long since been frightened out of his wits and hidden under the bar. Andrea put down the book she was reading and vaulted over the bar herself, looking among the bottles and kegs for something she could drink. "Hmmm...mead, dark ale, Catamount Porter..." she muttered to herself. "Ugh. I like my ale stout as much as the next guy, but how 'Raelf can drink THAT stuff is beyond me. Let's see...ah, this looks like it might be good." She grabbed an expensive-looking bottle of ale, left a gold piece in its place, and jumped back over the bar to her table. She uncorked the bottle and drank deeply. "Ah, now, that's good ale..." As thunder once again boomed close by, she again took up the book. "Let's see..." she muttered. "Is it 'Tuar Nigma Sharlocht,' or 'Tuar Naga Sherlicht'? It's hard to tell in this light..." Then Andrea saw Sheryl look at something behind her, and she quickly shut the book and put it away in her knapsack. It was Jiri. "Greetings," she said. He nodded in return, going around behind the bar and appropriating some drink in much the same fashion as Andrea had, then came over to her table. "Mind if I sit down?" "Go right ahead," Andrea said, taking a long pull at the bottle. She eyed the Wolfmage curiously as he took his seat. "So, you think you can handle the storm's casualties?" He shrugged. "I hope so. I can, of course, use all the help I can get." He looked over at Sheryl, who was currently sniffing at the crack in the door. "She's right..." he mused. "What?" Andrea asked. "Sheryl knows it too," Jiri said. "This is no ordinary storm." "What do you mean?" Andrea asked. "It's all--WRONG. I don't know if I can explain it to a human, but all natural weather has a certain scent, a certain FEEL. This storm has an entirely DIFFERENT feel--a malign sensation, like something dead. There is evil at work here, I am sure of it." Andrea shrugged. "Hopefully it will pass." Jiri nodded. "Oh, it will pass all right," he said. "I just hope that Generica will still be here after it does." -- Chris Meadows || "The Zetons look like beautiful CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || women, but their tissues are made CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || of paper, so they burn, like paper." CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || --Captain Harlock, Ziv's lame-o dub. Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!wupost!CSM560.smsu.edu!vma.smsu.edu.Ext!CHM173S From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Storm] [Jiri] [AU] The Storm Continues Date: Wed, 07 Apr 93 00:06:47 CDT Organization: Selactican Thieves' Guild (Office of Guildmaster Robinson) Lines: 179 Message-ID: <16BA9197.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> NNTP-Posting-Host: vma.smsu.edu Keywords: [Storm] [Jiri] [AU] Andrea Jiriku Kyhra Sheryl unicorn X-Newsreader: NNR/VM S_1.3.2 ~Date: Tue, 6 Apr 1993 23:48:03 -0400 ~From: Kalhad the Blackk To: ~Subject: [Storm][Jiri][Au]:The Storm Builds... In article <16BA712ED5.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext (Chris > "Pile those sandbags!" the supervisor bawled out over the >thunder and rising wind. "The storm's almost here--we don't have >much time!" > Obediently, Kyhra put his back into it. The elevated level >of the city made the seawall four feet high here, though the sea >itself was about thirty feet below it on the other side. During >normal times, anyway. Right now, the wind was whipping it into a >violent frenzy and it was lapping in, breaking against the wall >about halfway up it and sometimes slopping over the side. > Kyhra lifted sandbag after sandbag, piling them atop the >seawall with other workers. It soon became apparent that he was >the most capable worker there, for his mighty thews could lift >the bags of sand like humans lifted sacks of flour. > The storm crept closer and closer... > > < Lightning strikes start fires in the dockside > warehouses, and other buildings are pummelled by hail > or torn apart by the wind. Many shanties in the Low > City collapse, and heavy waves sweep over the dockside > areas. However, the sandbag barriers continue to hold > back the water from the other areas of the city--though > for how long is anybody's guess.>> > Kyhra swore as he wiped the water and wet fur from his eyes once more. Without pausing even for breath he took up another sand bag, then another as soon as the first was piled. The wall had already broke in many spots, and the men piling the sandbags had already been ordered to withdraw. Some did, but not he. The Kalnarian now worked at the spot that had fallen several times, despite constant attention. Most of the workers had abandonned it already, but six others stayed to help the catman. They piled bag after bag, and every time their part of the wall broke, they began a new, not seeming to notice how futile their task was. Kyhra had lost count of the number of bags he had piled long ago, as well as the number of hours he had been piling them. Kyhra looked up briefly to see how the rest of the workers were doing, then let out a horrible oath upon seeing that besides he and his six fellows, there were very few men left at the wall. Further down, there was a larger knot of men who also still worked. A merchant dumped flour out his sacks and filled them wil sand, watching his profits wash away in the rain without a second thought. It was there that the mage with the stone had fused the falling sand earlier, Kyhra recollected. Suddenly, his attention was snapped back to the task at hand when a huge crash split the storms noisy air. The wall of sandbags in front of him began to bulge, then burst inwards as a wave hit it with a furious force. The unnamed man ahead of him yelled. The cry was cut short as the water of the retreating wave gathered him in it's wake and pulled him under. Venting a battle cry of his home people, Kyhra dove towards the wall and the man that even now was being pulled over it. "Vrie-ahh! To me! To me!" Kyhra's massive paws cut through the retreating water and latched onto the man's collar an impossible instant after he had begun his leap. It would not be the only time that the feline's speed would save another that day. Growling in fury and pain, the Kalnarian began to heave the choking man back up over the breach in the sand bags. He was weary beyond measure, but he would not give in. Almost there... Fear showed in Kyhra's eyes for the first time that day as he saw the wave coming back for a second try at the victim that it had lost. Kyhra knew that it would take two in return for it's spoiled first attempt. Still he didn't give up, as he looked death in the eye and gave a last mighty pull. He wasn't going to make it, he knew, but he would not drop another into the pits of hell to save his own skin... {meanwhile, back at the ranch... er, Inn...} > "Let's see..." she muttered. "Is it 'Tuar Nigma Sharlocht,' >or 'Tuar Naga Sherlicht'? It's hard to tell in this light..." > Then Andrea saw Sheryl look at something behind her, and she >quickly shut the book and put it away in her knapsack. It was >Jiri. "Greetings," she said. > He nodded in return, going around behind the bar and >appropriating some drink in much the same fashion as Andrea had, >then came over to her table. "Mind if I sit down?" > "Go right ahead," Andrea said, taking a long pull at the >bottle. She eyed the Wolfmage curiously as he took his seat. >"So, you think you can handle the storm's casualties?" > He shrugged. "I hope so. I can, of course, use all the >help I can get." He looked over at Sheryl, who was currently >sniffing at the crack in the door. "She's right..." he mused. > "What?" Andrea asked. > "Sheryl knows it too," Jiri said. "This is no ordinary >storm." > "What do you mean?" Andrea asked. > "It's all--WRONG. I don't know if I can explain it to a >human, but all natural weather has a certain scent, a certain >FEEL. This storm has an entirely DIFFERENT feel--a malign >sensation, like something dead. There is evil at work here, I am >sure of it." > Andrea shrugged. "Hopefully it will pass." > Jiri nodded. "Oh, it will pass all right," he said. "I >just hope that Generica will still be here after it does." >-- >Chris Meadows || "The Zetons look like beautiful >CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || women, but their tissues are made >CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || of paper, so they burn, like paper." >CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || --Captain Harlock, Ziv's lame-o dub. >. >. Andrea look sharply at Jiriku, then her eyes relaxed a little and she shiverred. "You could at least be a little more optimistic, Jiriku." "I _am_ being optimistic Andrea- and honest. I'm not sure what you think of this storm, but frankly, it scares me. I didn't have the chance to tell you earlier what it was that I saw in the Dreamlands. It was terrible. I should have been walking the 'Paths for another two days or so, but shortly after I arrived I felt a malevolence in the 'Forest. I came across a black and crooked path, and I followed it. Long did I walk through a diseased and twisted forest ere coming to the sea." Jiriku paused to take a pull from his ale bottle while trying to decide how to explain a Dream to a mortal. "The sea was... well, WRONG. It was black, and pulsating. I can only describe the sights to you that a mortal would see, but it wasn't just what I saw. As I said before about the storm, the scent was wrong, and the _feel_. I felt a terrible foreboding as the black sea heaved and moaned. It was almost like a giant black slug, and something rose out of the sea in the distance. It reeked of death, and it was as if the sea _had_ become a beast, though much more evil and powerful than any mere slug, no matter what the size. Now you must know why I ran back into the 'Forest and broke out of my Sleep. The Dreams told me what was coming- death upon a black sea, in the wake of a storm, and I had to come warn Kyhra. And you, and the rest of Generica." The Wolfmage fell silent and took another long drink. Andrea just stared at him, fear beginning to creep into her own face now. She shook her head and tried to clear the thoughts from her head, but the image of a black beast rising from the water- of the water- would not leave her. The wind howled and distant crashes could be heard- well some of them actually weren't distant enough for Andrea's liking. The two sat there for some time in silence, drinking their ale. "Actually Andrea, it's 'Tuar Naga Sharlocht, if I remember correctly. What is that that you were reading anyways? I don't mean to pry, but I did recognize you're mumblings, and can't place them exactly. Are you trying to learn a bit of simple magic?" The Wolfmage raised his eyebrows as he studied Andrea's reaction. "No, I'm NOT trying to learn magic, not that it's any of your business." Her face had turned wuite red, but Jiri thought it was more from embarassment than anger. Anyways, it was obvious that she didn't want to talk about it. He shrugged then quietly added "I could help you out if you wanted. Once this is over..." Andrea didn't seem to hear him, but he thought she did. Suddenly the elf smiled and a brighter look crossed his face as he change the subject. "Andrea, this waiting is awful, and I'm worrying too much about Kyhra. I think maybe a song might be of help. It would ease the tensions all around, and I think I saw Listener head down below with the others. Would you care to join us for a tune?" Andrea just grunted as she finished her ale, but Sheryl suddenly appeared from nowhere, as did Carson, both with gleaming excited eyes. Jiriku produced a small silver lute almost from nowhere and tuned it as he turned and walked towards the cellar entrance humming a cheery tune, the unicorn and the cat happily following him. Andrea shrugged and set the empty bottle down, then got up to follow as well. [NOTE] This was posted for the author of the [Jiri] thread. His address is at the top of the article. As always, if you want your characters to bump into our characters, all you gotta do is ask! -- Chris Meadows || NOTE: I will be at home for Easter CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || from Wednesday April 7 evening to CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || Monday April 12 morning. Sorry for CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || any inconvenience this may cause...