Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!spool.mu.edu!howland.reston.ans.net!bogus.sura.net!n ews-feed-1.peachnet.edu!umn.edu!CSM560.smsu.edu!vma.smsu.edu.Ext!CHM173S From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Chris Meadows) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] [HouseStorming] A Familiar Face Date: Mon, 12 Apr 93 22:14:00 CDT Organization: The Old House on Merchant's Hill Lines: 156 Message-ID: <16BAE138A9.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> NNTP-Posting-Host: vma.smsu.edu Keywords: [AU] [HouseStorming] Andrea Sheryl Unicorn Raykor X-Newsreader: NNR/VM S_1.3.2 ADMIN: Okay, once again I'd like to thank all those people who have contributed, either in writing or through lending the use of their characters, to my thread. I haven't acknowledged some of them in the last few entries, but they include people like Delmara, Serena, etc. And I-- "Excuse me..." Hey, what--? Not again. Andrea, not during the admin note! "Sheryl and I aren't satisfied with the way you've been handling the story up to now." >Whinny!< "We feel you've just been messing around, and we want you to get to the ACTION! Let's find Raykor and kick his--" I'll GET to that! Now go on, get out of here--Hey, what are you doing?! Andrea, put that dagger away! "We're taking over as authors." But that's unheard of! You can't--Hey! Stay away from the computer! I'm warning you...I wrote you into this plotline, and I can darned well write you out agai--" >Fwip!< "Eyaaaugh!" >Gurgle< "Oh, darn. Now see what you've made me do. Sheryl, you call an ambulance. I'll clean the blood up off the carpet." >LongDial< >ShortDial< >ShortDial< "Greene County Emergency." >Whinny! Nicker! Snort!< "All right, got it, we'll send an ambulance right down." >CLICK!< "Darn, this blood just won't come out..." >Nicker!< >Snort!< "Huh? Oh! OH! We're on! Ahem. Hi, I'm Andrea, and this is Sheryl. Our author is, ummm, INCAPACITATED right now. So we're filling in for him. We trust you'll find the following entry satisfactory. Hit it, Sheryl." Silence reigned where only hours since had been roaring winds and rolling thunder. It was the night of the day after the storm had ceased, and the stars were actually visible outside. The clouds that had covered the sky had dissipated with astonishing rapidity as soon as the storm itself had died. Two eyes looked out at the sky from a window where no eyes should have been. These eyes were all that was visible of the face until the person whom the face belonged to moved out a little closer to the window, into the meager light cast by the overhead stars. The face was a weathered one. It didn't look OLD exactly, merely weathered. And evil. It was as though every evil deed this person had done over the last hundred years or so had its own reflection in this face. And from the look of the face, the evil deeds must have been many. To the casual viewer, it would be hard at first to tell whether the face was male or female in the dim light cast by the heavenly bodies in the skies. Yet after some observation of its features, it would perhaps become evident that this was a man. The window was set in an old house atop Merchant's Hill. An old house that had been decaying over the last decade, for none could pentrate past the astonishing array of deadly traps and magic wards which kept their silent guard over the years. It was indeed the same house which Andrea had purchased earlier that day, and even paid a visit to. Though Andrea hadn't seen him, nor had Sheryl sensed him, he had been there, been watching, shielded both from Andrea's view and Sheryl's uncanny perception. In fact, he had even saved Andrea's life, though she would never know it, by deflecting the poisoned dart from its course directly toward her into the gatepost. He didn't want her to die. Not yet, and certainly not from something as impersonal as a poison dart. The man laughed mirthlessly into the night. What was it that somehow attracted himself and Andrea to each other? He had encountered her in his travels many times over the last decade, sometimes intentionally, yet other times not. It was the curse, he knew. The curse that he, Raykor the Mage, had laid upon her more than a decade before. His magic had been powerful even then, with the help of the Mystic Ring of Eldnik. Since then, he had continued his magical researches, and had found a ritual to absorb the magical powers of the Ring into himself. He was now Raykor the ArchMage, even more powerful than before. "That curse..." Raykor muttered to himself. "Oh, yes, that curse was even more powerful than I thought at the time." He smiled, and it was not a pretty sight. How could he have known at the time of the casting that the spell fueled by rage and pain would be the most powerful enchantment he had cast before or since? But powerful the spell had been, and Raykor had been unaware of to what extent until years later. Now he knew that the curse acted in several ways. First of all, it had completely erased the young girl's shape-identity, replacing it with the unicorn form. This in itself had been quite a feat, but its subsequent actions had been even more amazing. The curse somehow manipulated fate so that Sheryl (and thus Andrea) and Raykor were drawn to each other--their paths would eventually cross no matter how they tried to run away from each other. And if one was actively hunting for the other, it worked even better. In this way, it could be said to be something of a curse on Raykor himself, for several times Andrea and Sheryl had nearly caught up to him, though he had managed to escape unseen each time. However, whenever Raykor wished to find THEM, it was an obvious boon. And finally, whenever Raykor was within a few miles of Sheryl, he could actually tap directly into the enchantment's power, and receive a jumbled flow of data, information about the young unicorn's surroundings, feelings, sensations, and bodily functions. With the aid of his Runic Processor, he was able to sort these impressions out into useful data. In fact, he had been doing this through several years of encounters, and the knowledge of basic magical theory he had gained from this had enabled him to grow even more powerful. It was a source of unending irony to Raykor that none of his experiments--magical transformations, potions, magical torture devices--which he had thought would be the path to true power, had provided him with as much of it as had that one, almost accidental transformation, cast in the heat of the moment at a young girl who'd just thrown a stone at him. "Fate has its oddities," he was given to muse. "Through little accidents is true greatness made." Then the object Raykor had been holding in his right hand cheeped, interrupting his reflection. He held it up, looked at it, irritated at having been disturbed during his moment of solitude. His irritation soon changed to interest, however, at what he saw. The object was a glowing green orb, about the size of a baseball, which was patterned with red runes. One rune in particular was blinking, and it was this that had gained Raykor's interest. He touched it, and it was replaced with several smaller runes, which Raykor examined and nodded. "I had sensed several harmonic disturbances present within that storm. Hmm, maybe this helps to explain it." He nodded. "Interesting...I would like to meet the one who crafted this. Or the one who crafted the one who crafted this." He smiled. The curse alone had not been what had drawn Raykor to this place. He had been conducting research specifically on transformation curses for the last two years, and re-examining Sheryl's would enable him to fit the last lynchpins of the master spell he was crafting into place. This curse would be his crowning achievement. So far, anyway. It would be the most powerful magic spell he had ever dared to cast. Raykor had arrived in Generica a week before, knowing that Andrea and Sheryl wouldn't be far behind, and had set up shop in the well-equipped magical laboratory within the house (it had been a most fortunate discovery). He had been most careful with his scrying, only doing so on nonpeak hours and using his weakest probes to avoid detection by the local mages. All that he had been able to see was their approximate location, and interactions with a few bar patrons. Anything more complicated would have risked discovery. "Ah, well...I must get back to work. I would like to be ready when Andrea and Sheryl try to enter. With what I have learned, I have nearly finished my Master Curse. This one much more powerful than the one that I cast in anger. And with any luck, Andrea will be its unwilling recipient." His voice trailed off into an evil laugh as his footsteps echoed through the empty house. -- Chris Meadows || Pity me, I live near Branson!!! CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || ----------------------------------- CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || THIS SPACE FOR RENT CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!sdd.hp.com!network.ucsd.edu!mvb.saic.com!zippy.telco m.arizona.edu!arizona.edu!noao!amethyst!organpipe.uug.arizona.edu!helium!corley j Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Pitzar] A house is not a home. Message-ID: <1993Apr13.014123.28368@organpipe.uug.arizona.edu> From: corleyj@helium.gas.uug.arizona.edu (Jason D Corley ) Date: 13 Apr 93 01:41:23 GMT Sender: news@organpipe.uug.arizona.edu Organization: University of Arizona, Tucson Lines: 85 My boarding house had been torn down, and the vacant lot turned into a giant mud puddle by the storm. I thought of it as 'my boarding house', even though it had been a rathole of a place that I spent less time at than I did in jail, which wasn't a lot. So I was on the street for a night, looking for a place to live. The night sky over Generica makes you think about a lot of things. The town smells like rot, but the stars look like diamonds. They make you think about things you could have done once, but can't anymore. They made me think for a long while, because there were so many things that I couldn't do anymore, not because I couldn't do them, but because they wouldn't be the same things. I ran my head around in circles until I needed a drink. I headed for Low Town. I didn't realise until halfway there that there wouldn't be a Low Town after the storm. But I went anyway. When I got there, there were blazing torches set high on poles, and as far as I could see, workers gathered in the dim light, hoisting planks of wood on their shoulders, hammering them into place, shouting out to each other in the cool night air. I found a vantage point and stared down...the whole area was a buzz of activity, but it wasn't people running down streets yelling at each other and it wasn't smooth-talking punks hustling wise-ass hookers. There wasn't anybody down there except carpenters and builders. There wasn't any Low Town left. "Nice view, eh?" came a voice behind me. There was a sharp prick in my back. "Lets see that bag at your belt there, huh? Turn around." I turned around, and said "Hello Milton." because that's who it was. Milton was a small-time second-story man who had run across just enough stories to keep him in the file cabinets at the _Examiner_ instead of the Guard reports. He lowered his arm. "Jake? I thought you was...I thought you was gone!" I nodded. "I was gone. I was gone for a while." Milton nodded. "Jeez, I'm sorry Jake. Things have been pretty tight since the storm." I turned back around and sat on the edge of the curb, looking out over Low Town. "Not too many second-stories around anymore." He sat next to me. "Yeah." The light from a thousand torches reflected in his eyes as he stared down at the workers. "Gonna be better than new, they say." I squinted down at the mess of rubble and wood. "Better?" Milton nodded vigorously. "Oh yeah, it's gonna be clean and new and there won't be any rats or roaches or slimes or anything like that." "I see." "I know it's hard to believe, but..." "No, I believe you, Milton." "All right." The workers poundings echoed up like a knock at a distant door. "Milton?" I asked, "Who's paying for this? I can't see any of the fat cats uptown doing anything like this." Milton still stared down into the rubble. "Naw. It's one of the temples. You know, the one with the women." "Aditi?" "That's the one." "Milton...have you been..." I began. "Well so what if I have? They say they took a vow-- anyone that wants them, gets them." I turned back down to the scene below. A group of workers were pulling up the first side of a framed house. The wood looked strong and had no holes. "You know it hurts them, Milton." There was never any houses like that in Low Town. "Yeah, Jake, I know." We were silent for a long time. The second frame was pulled up beside the first one. It was going to be one fine house. I stood up. "I have to go find an inn before it gets too late, Milton. I'll see you around." He just sat there, looking down at the city. "Yeah. See you around, Jake." My foot caught on a loose cobble, and it skittered away down the street, as I stepped away from Milton. I heard his voice again. "It's never going to be like it was before, is it, Jake?" I pretended not to hear him. -- corleyj@helium.gas.uug.arizona.edu -- (@=k) ************************************************* Eh? Markian Gooley is a Zulu judge, cur! ************************************************* Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!uunet!usc!sol.ctr.columbia.edu!eff!ssd.intel.com!chn ews!ornews.intel.com!ibeam!hutch From: hutch@ibeam.intel.com (Steve Hutchison) Subject: [Jiri][Storm]: Flight From Darkness Message-ID: Organization: Intel Corp., Hillsboro, Oregon References: <10APR93.22983324.0092@VM1.MCGILL.CA> Date: Wed, 14 Apr 1993 05:47:41 GMT Lines: 435 [another post for Dani] It was dark. Dark and wet. He didn't mind the wet all that much, nor the dark. What ired him was the fact that it was still not yet even noon. Those infernal clouds! He swore again as he tried to get a firm grip on the crank handle. "Pull harder, damn you!" Taylor shouted to the two men at his side. The second jib had slid out, and the sheets needed to be tightened. The wind was howling a fury now, and the rain lashed brows with equal wrath. The Soulstar was still on a beat, heading into the wind. It was going to be tricky. Soon the wind would shift, as the main front of the storm caught up with them. They'd need to come about fairly quickly then, and hope the winds were stable enough to start long reach. The captain hadn't decided what tack to take yet. It was up to the Winds, and what They decided to do. Taylor grunted and heaved, and the crank began to slowly turn, as sail gave way and let itself be brought it a little tigher. CLACK! CLACK! One more pull... CLACK! There! The jibsail quit it's luffing as it was pulled in as tight as it could possibly go. The wind stayed on it's starboard face, and it no longer flapped back and forth, slowing them down. With a stern warning to the sailors to watch for the sheet slipping a second time, the first mate of the Soulstar turned and headed aft. He looked up to the telltale set on top of the main mast. It was beginning to waver, indicated a shift in the winds. A quick look to the white capped waves confirmed that a gust was coming- tiny ripples were forming on the backs of the waves. No need to shout warning though, he thought with pride. The rest of the crew was as sharp as he was that morn. The helmsman was steadying the tiller, and the men manning the sails were readying to act. The big man smiled as he climbed the stairs onto the poop deck. His captain had come out from his cabin only minutes ago, but already Cain knew everything that was happening on his ship. He gave orders sent the runners scurrying awat almost as soon as they presented him with a problem or question. The old skipper stood beside the black clad captain, overseeing and offering his advice. He was almost a part of the ship now, and Taylor seemed to think that the old man had been with the 'Star before Cain had come in possession of her. Of course, she was nothing like the ship she was now. She'd been completely overhauled and pretty much rebuilt. The only thing that hadn't changed about the vessel was Old Skip, as he liked to be called by the younger sailors. Skip had been offered the prestige of second mate, but he had declined, saying he was too old for such an important duty. He was content to just advise his captain, and so Cain had named him the ship's skipper, even though he wasn't first mate, and rarely took the helm, saying he'd leave it to the younger more hale lads. Taylor shook his head, for he sincerely doubted that Skip would have any trouble with the helm, whatever his age. He was a great sailor, and Taylor admired him even more than Cain did. "Ho Skip! Cap'n Cain," he nodded as he approached. "The second jib's been fixed in tight, but I deem she might slip again if the winds are too rough on 'er. I dinna know what's wrong with't, but seems the sheets as is 'ad a bit too much wet 'n strain." Cain merely nodded, then turned to look once more at the telltail. "What do think this wind's up to Taylor? She's jumpier than a cat in a whorehouse right now. We're going to have to change our tack soon, but which way? What is the beast thinking? Will It change quickly, or bide It's time?" Taylor looked up to the black clouds swirling overhead. "Cap'n," he began, "I dinna know the mind of the Beast, but I've seen 'er heart many a time. She wants ta strike, fast n' furious as the hellcat she is. I deem the wind'll shift quick. If n' an' she does, we might be best to come about afore the shift, and start a run." Cain nodded, then turned to Old Skip, who seemed to be chewing Taylors' words up as he usually chewed his tobacco. Old Skip looked to the clouds as well, then to the waves. "Brace yerselfs," he said, and a moment later, the gust hit. The ship rocked for a moment, as it seemed to leap a bit. The helmsman turned a little to starboard, then headed back up into the wind as the gust steatied. "Aye, ye may be right Taylor. But what if She doesn't shift quick? We may be caught in irons as we wait for her to slowly come around. And you know how hard it is to get out with a ship this size. And which way will she turn?" He looked Taylor, then Cain in the eye before turning his gaze back to the waves ahead. "We need to change tack, that's a right. If the wind changes enough, I'd like to try a broad reach. If we're lucky, She'll pop up near behind us if we head straight for Generica. Right now we're headed near square with port, only a little in, but the wind's not letting us do anymore, not until we're over enough to cut back th'other way. But I think that before we get a chance to do that, the wind will change. That storm's coming up hard on us. I think by noon we'll be right in the middle of it. Aye, the heart will miss us, for that black demon is far to port right now. That's why I wanted to beat, and you all agreed with me. If we'd have stayed on the course that dawn found us, we'd have made better time, but the center of the storm would have swept right 'cross us. By turing up into the wind, we've managed to run away from it. We were lucky to have been able to, sailing straight into the wind like this. We'd never have made it th'other way though. Now the storm has seen that we've near escaped Her clutches, and She'll try to bring us back to Her. I think the wind's going to shift and cut straight across the starboard stern. If we time our jibe right, we'll be able to enter a starboard reach, then turn back to a port reach after we've put a little more distance between us and Lady Storm." "Jibe?" Taylor nearly choked. "If we jibe in this wind, we could tear the ship apart! The boom won't be able ta handle it, not ta mention the sails!" "And if we come about before the shift?" Skip countered. "The wind could have the same effect as a jibe, only worse when it does hit, for we'll not be moving with it! And if it doesn't shift fast, we'll be stuck in irons." "Better stuck unmovin' than tryin' to move without a mainsail! I dinna know 'bout ye, but I'd rather be stuck and let the storm pass us by, then try and head it off!" Taylor was nearly livid, his face red with fury. But before he could continue, or Old Skip argue back, Cain spoke so softly that it was a wonder that they both heard him. "Normally I'd agree with you Taylor, but now we don't have any choice. We have to run now. Look." The two sailors followed Cain's black gloved hand, and hissed in their breath when they saw what he had spotted. Behind and to the port side came a ship, sailing straight out of the storms black heart. Skip pulled his spyglass to his eye, and his face hardened. He handed it to Cain, who looked long at the black ship bearing down on them. "Captain, that tack shouldn't be possible. At least not at the speed she seems to be going." Skip's voice was tight and grim. "I know, Skip, I know. She's gaining on us. I'm not too proud to admit that the Soulstar isn't the fastest ship ever built, but she's no slouch, and _NO_ ship could muster that speed sailing straight into the wind. From her angle, she's not even beating. She's coming straight into it. Did you notice the sails? They're set up for a run, BUT THERE'S NO WIND COMING FROM BEHIND TO FILL THEM. Yet, the ship sails." Taylor couldn't suppress a shudder as he at last was given the spyglass and got his first good look at the other ship. "Well Cap'n, yer right. If we come about now, n' get stuck in irons, she'll catch up with us. I said before to Magarth, 'tisn't an ordinairy storm. Seems as is I was right. 'Tisn't an ordinairy ship niether. Look. She's got a huge hole in 'er mainsail, and she's blacker 'an those thrice cursed clouds o'erhead." Cain nodded as he quietly spoke, his eyes never leaving the fast approaching vessel. "I said Lady Death came riding upon the waves. Now we see how she comes. Riding her vessel, a ship of blackest sky, a ship that sails with no wind to blow it. I do not intend to get caught in irons. There is no doubt that that ship has hostile intent. See the flag? 'Tis not the skull and bones flown by pirates, but the Skull of Bone flown by Deaths Legions. That unholy sigil burns at the eyes, and sucks at the heart. We must jibe. To do otherwise is to welcome Her, and I have no intention of taking that fell Lady as my lover yet. We have to take the chance, Taylor. When will that damn wind change? Will it be in time, Skip?" "Cain, that ship comes from the Storm. The beast wants us, for we ran from it. If it can give wind to the dark sails of that black vessel without changing the directions of the winds it sends to us, then there's no telling what it'll do. It just might hold the wind where it is, or it might turn to send us back to It, and has merely sent that foul ship out to herd and chase us. As Taylor said, 'tis no ordinary storm. This beast, is alive." Cain nodded, his eyes still studying the Ship of Lady Death. He motioned for a runner, and sent the wide eyed lad off to wake Magarth and the second watch and third watches. All hands were to be ready, for they may all be needed on deck very shortly. The black clad captain turned back to look at his ship, tearing his eyes at last away from the dark flag flying from the mast of the pursuing vessel. It was strange, he thought, that the flag was visible so clearly when the ship was still too far away to see the crew scurrying on it's deck. Strange indeed. For a long time the three men stood thus, waiting on the wind, and praying to whatever gods they still believed in. The second mate joined them shortly, and Magarth took on a steely look when he viewed the pursuing vessel. It was rather comical, Cain thought absently. That hard look on Mag's face, while his fine brown hair was still crazily shaped from the bed. That brief moment of respite was to be the last one for the captain of the Soulstar for a long time to come. A quarter of an hour they waited, then two, as the storm plotted Its' strategy. The Beast smiled as it looked upon the helpless ship that had dared to defy It's might. Other ship's had also tried, but they were being dealt with as well. The black ships had taken two down already, and pursued three more besides the Soulstar. The Lady had asked to take that ship, and so the beast had complied, holding it's winds so that the 'Star could leave the path of the Heart. How it angered the Beast that it could not take the vessel for Itself, but She had let it have other ships, and promised that there were more to come. She had even agreed to sit back awhile and let the Beast hammer at Generica when they arrived. This had pleased the Storm, for the City and the lands beyond were Its' true goal. Let the Lady take the helpless ships now, and then She would have to stand in the back and take the leftovers of Its' feast later on. Let Her satisfy Her lusts now, then let her beware if she tries to interfere with the Beasts hunger later. It would feed off the land, and spit out the dead for Her to collect when It was finished. Yes, let Her send her Black Ship's out, for the real feast would be left to It. Even as the Storm gloated, even as it plotted Its' foul design, It made a mistake. It let down Its' guard, and at that moment the first attack was made. The Beast howled in rage as the Magic slammed into Its' heart. It lost Its' hold on the wind, and the waves lost strength as part of the Storm was diverted by an unknown magical attack. Who dared to attack the Beast? No matter, it howled, for I shall take you all in time. The Beast cursed as it tried to gather the wind back into Its' foul grip, and tried to scare the waves into building again, cracking Its' whip and driving the frightened sea before it. It had lost a bit of Its' power, but that could easily be regained. There was still time before it hit Generica. Plenty of time. Skip let out a hollar as he saw something happening in the clouds. To the rear, the swirl momentarily slowed, then a part of the storm splintered off. The wind began to itch as it felt the thorn prick it in the rear. It started to squirm, then shift, trying to get rid of the prick in its' side. "HO THERE! PREPARE TO JIBE! THE WIND IS WITH US AGAIN!" Men scurried all over the ship as they turned cranks and loosened the sheets holding the sails. Cain looked at Old Skip and tensed. He could feel it too. Skip shouted a few more orders at the captains nod, then turned to look back at the waves. The ripples began to form once again on the wave backs, but this time not on the waves to the fore, where the wind blew from, but to the starboard aft side. Slowly the ripples increased, then died. A moment later they returned, then died again. Skip looked expectantly at Cain, who held up a hand. A third time the ripples appeared on the white capped waves, this time stronger. The gust was building, and the wind ahead began to slowly die as it shifted directions. "Captain?" Skip inquired. Cain kept his hand up. "Wait, Skip. Wait. We're not going to jibe right away." "We're not?" Skip's voice held surprise, but he told the runners to stand by to await the new order. Cain looked once more at the Black Ship of Death, then back at the waves. "We'll start a starboard reach," he told Skip and the Helmsman. "I want that ship to keep guessing. They'll expect us to put the wind across the port bow and try beam reach. We'll keep going the other way for now. When I give the order, bear off, and let the sails out. We'll reach across starboard still, then jibe when the other ship is making it's change to follow us." Skip started to protest, but Cain held up a hand. "Nay Skip, the wind _does_ affect the other ship. Did you notice their sail? It blew into the wind. At least, what is into the wind for us. I think the storm has sent out wind just for that ship to use, wind that wouldn't touch us. See how the clouds almost seem the part above her? The low ones, there. Whoever, or whatever, is controlling this storm, sent that ship after us, and diverted a small strong wind to sail it while not benefitting us. I know not why she still sails with that hole in the sail, but she does, and she needs wind to sail her. When we change to a starboard broad reach, she'll have to come about to follow us. They will wait a few minutes, to lessen the angle, then come about. But while they're doing that, we'll jibe over to a port beam reach. The jibe will be quick, with not that much of an angle to jibe through. The other ship, on the other hand, will lose speed and wind for a minute or two while it comes about, confident that it has us. Well, I have no intention of complying with their will. While they flounder about, we'll slip out of their grasp. Hopefully, if they make the mistake I'm hoping for, they'll try to change tack right away to follow us, and get in irons with no wind in their sails." "Hah!" Skip laughed and pounded Cain on the back. "I knew I'd made a sailor out of you lad, but you learned much more than what I taught you! You use the tactics of small craft racing, something that most ship captains either never knew, or long forgot. Hai, but we will surprise them. And if we don't then they have a captain who is much better that you or I will ever be." "That's what I'm praying against, my friend. That's what I'm praying against." Cain took one more long look at the waves, then waited still longer as the wind swayed back to starboard. He didn't drop his hand though, and was rewarded when the wind swung back to its' original direction as the two breezes battled. It swayed again, then suddenly swung around far to the starboard side. Cain dropped his arm and shouted. "Now! Bear up starboard! Let the mainsail out! Hold the Jib, hold it. Wait, wait. Now! Jib out! All sails half way!" The crew scrambled to obey the orders, and the Helmsman turned the wheel, swinging the ships nose around to the port side, but holding it after but a slight shift. The sails were let out, then snapped to attention as the wind caught them, straining againts the sheets that held the sails only halfway out. The Soulstar leaped into a broad reach, the new gust streaming across the starboard bow from behind, almost at a 45 degree angle to the length of the ship. Cain and Skip smiled, and Taylor hooted from where he was up front as the black ship behind them kept it's course. After several minutes, it became clearly apparent that they were readying to come about to follow the Soulstar on a starboard broad reach. Cain held up his arm once more, and Skip, Taylor and Magrth shouted more orders, getting everybody ready to spring into action. They didn't move yet, for to act to soon would be to give their plan away to the opposing captain. The black ship slowly turned away from the wind as it passed the point that the Soulstar had sailed through before the wind had changed. True to Cains' word, they were coming about. His crew stood poised. "Captain?" Skip asked. He looked to the other ship, now almost halfway there, the wind beginning to fall from the impossibly torn sails that her crew was madly pulling in from their fully extended running position. "Captain?" He asked again, worry in his voice. Still Cain did not move. "Cain?!" Skip was getting very worried. They wouldn't be able to jibe quick enough. It would be too late. But still his captain waited, his eyes on burning holes through the other ship. "Captain! We must act now!" Cain ignored the old sailor, his black gloved hand still raised high in the air. Every pair of eyes on the ship was riveted to that hand, waiting. The Black Ship of Death was almost halway about. The booms began to shift, gathering speed as they swung across the deck to catch the wind from the other side. The keel had turned quite a bit, and was almost at the new angle. Not a sound was made from any on the Soulstar. All eyes were watching, all breaths were held. And every man began to sweat in worry and fear. Just when it seemed that Cain had become entranced by the foul flag atop the other ship, his arm came sharply down and his crew sprung into action, like coiled snakes that had waited, muscles bunched until unbearable, to strike at the mouse. Even as the sail of the black ship swung past the midpoint, the booms of the Soulstar began their slow swing across as the Helmsman, now aided by Skip, turned the tiller franticly, bringing the rudder in the dark waters below hard to the left side, and the bow of the vessel began to slowly swing about. Skip swore as he saw the other ships' sails filling with air, swore because they would be too late. Then, of a sudden, the booms hurtled across the bow and the sheets and sails snapped tight with a huge shaking boom that rocked the ship. Another gust had sprung up, and the added wind had swung the sails across far quicker than they would have gone on their own. The gust had not reached the other ship, and they stalled in surprise as their quarry suddenly changed direction. The captain of the black vessel, whoever he was, had acted as Cain and Skip had hoped. He began to come about too soon, before his sails had come across fully. The jibe had been as, as jibes always are, and the Soulstar even now flew madly across the waves on her new port reach. She hovered between a broad reach and a beam reach, keeping the ship between 90 and 45 degrees to the wind from the rear. Meanwhile, instead of holding course and changing after a minute or two, the black ship was trying to jibe into a port reach as well, but her sails had not the wind, and so when the bow swung around, her sails began to luff and lost the wind. The crew of the Soulstar cheered loudly, and a fierce grin crossed Cains' face as he watched the pursuer lie in irons. It would be long miutes before they managed to get back around far enough to start the reach, and so it sat, barley moving, trying to find the wind that howled past it's sails from a bad angle. The captain of the black ship had been impatient and overconfident, and now payed the price, for the winds were no longer its' ally anymore than they were Cains'. They had reached waters where the wind had broken from the Beasts' foul grasp. They were safe, for the moment. Cain turned and saluted his crew, who all cheered loudly then stood at attention and returned the salute. They pulled away, leaving the black ship floundering among the waves. The Ship of Death was almost just a dark spot among the waves behind, its' fell sigal no longer visible before it found the wind and filled its' torn sails again. Cain could swear that the wind carried a terrible howl of rage, and his skin crawled as the hairs of his neck rose. He turned back around, raising Skips' spyglass to his eye, and air hissed through his teeth. "Skip, how long have we been on this tack?" His voice was tense, and the unease spread to the old sailor. "Near a quarter of an hour, Captain. Why? What is it?" Cain simply handed him the spyglass. Old Skip aged visibly beofre Cain's eyes. "Damned curs of Hell, Cain! They're gaining on us!" Skip quickly turned and barked orders to the crew. He had no need to ask Cain for approval- there was no other choice. It was risky in those high winds, but he ordered the spinnaker up anyways. The crew didn't question the judgement either, for they knew how important speed was. The look on Old Skips' face was enough to tell them that the other ship was gaining. The spinnaker was pulled up by the incredible rigging that Cain had designed for it. Skip still wondered that the black haired man called himself a thief and an assassin, for he was the greatest ship captain that Old Skip had ever met. He had never even dreamed that a spinnaker could be raised and lowered so easily in a ship the size of the 'Star, but Cain's fancy rigging had proved itself many times in the past. The large black sail billowed out like a parachute, a silver star seeming to shine in its' center. The spinnaker team played with the sheets and steadied the spinnaker pole. The sail took, and the Soulstar leapt ahead with a new unleashed fury as it cut through the fierce waves. It would be tricky indeed to keep it flying well in this wind, but the men manning the spinnaker sheets had gotten a lot of experience over the last year and a half while outrunning warships after stealing their cargo. Even with the added speed, the ship of Lady Death still gained on Cain and his doomed vessel. Cain paled, then gave the order to start dumping cargo. Magarth went below to make sure that the heaviest and least valuable cargo was brought above to be dumped. He made sure that the crates containing the speacial lode remained, but near everything else was dumped. Every inch of speed was squeezed out of the 'Star by Skip, Taylor and Magarth. Upon the deck of the black ship, a hooded and cowled figure let out a hideous laugh as it watched the helpless men dump throw crate after crate over the side. The hood slid back, and the hideously beautiful Lady of Death licked Her lush lips in anticipation. Her captain had failed Her those moments before, but now She was glad that She had stayed Her wrath until his next mistake. She'd coaxed the foolish Beast into giving Her more wind. The fool had done so, letting go of some of the power It held in the Heart. Even now one of her other ships was boarding another vessel of fool mortals. Her emmisary reported that a fierce battle raged on the deck of the Ryhmand, just as one would soon rage on the decks of the Soulstar. Even so, She would not make the mistake of underestimating the human again. Even now, a huge black monster of the deep rose up out of the angry sea to bar the flight of Her prey. She felt a heat of lust run through Her being as the humans saw the great monster loom up before them. They had just the time to turn once, but the monster obeyed its' mistress and moved to herd the doomed ship into a position for Her to take it. Cain of Kilrahh would be Hers, and so would all his crew. --Dani Treutler. [admin]: Again, thanks to Hutch for posting this for me, and to Jen/Cliffy and the rest of the [JOI] crew for the black ship idea. Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!elroy.jpl.nasa.gov!sdd.hp.com!cs.utexas.edu!usc!zaph od.mps.ohio-state.edu!darwin.sura.net!news-feed-1.peachnet.edu!umn.edu!CSM560.s msu.edu!vma.smsu.edu.Ext!CHM173S From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Andrea and Sheryl (Chris Meadows)) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] [Jiri] [Storm] A Stormy Evening Date: Thu, 15 Apr 93 22:43:15 CDT Organization: Kyhra Memorial Association Lines: 77 Message-ID: <16BB113F83.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> NNTP-Posting-Host: vma.smsu.edu Keywords: [AU] [Jiri] [Storm] Andrea Sheryl unicorn Jiriku Kyhra X-Newsreader: NNR/VM S_1.3.2 ADMIN: Hi, this is Andrea and Sheryl again! >Nicker!< Our regular author, Chris Meadows, is temporarily, ahem, indisposed. So we're filling in for him. This post is supposed to bridge the gap between the [AU]/[Storm] thread and the [AU]/[HouseStorming] thread. It may not be much, but heck, gotta keep the story going. Expect more from me around maybe Monday or so. On with the story! This takes up right after Jiri has just been unable to help Kyhra. Once again, thanks to Dani Treutler for letting us use his characters! Andrea stood there, a bit confused. Kyhra was...? Should she try to comfort him? No, she didn't have time for this right now. There were people in the back room who were close to choking out their last breaths, and the last thing that they had time to do was mourn what they couldn't change now anyway. Andrea pushed the weeping Jiriku back, then crossed the fingers of her left hand even as she hauled off with her right and fetched Jiri a hefty slap across the face. "Snap out of it," she said. "You can cry later. Now you have lives to save. Get to it." Jiri shook his head to clear it. "You're--you're right," he gasped out. "The needs of the dying outweigh the needs of the already--" He choked off the last word. "Come, we must do what we can," he said, walking past Andrea to the back room, the tears still wet on his face. Andrea was alarmed to note that the silver streak in his hair had all but disappeared. Andrea uncrossed her fingers (you never know what will happen when you slap a mage) and followed Jiri. She would help with bandages while he healed with magic. Sheryl followed her, looking quizzically at Jiri. She nickered an interrogative at Andrea, but Andrea just shook her head. "Not now, Sheryl. Ask me later." As Andrea prepared bandages and poultices, using skills taught her by Father Phylum in the days before the curse, she looked at the little unicorn and wondered. There had been some legends about the healing powers of a unicorn's horn, but they'd never worked out with Sheryl. Andrea wondered if it was the restraining magic of the curse that kept Sheryl from developing other powers such as healing. Perhaps when Kardia removed the curse they would be able to find out. The time was perhaps 8 or 9 p.m. now. It should have been still light outside, but it was pitch black. Andrea used a lantern to find her way into her room. Sheryl and Carson were already waiting there--Sheryl was curled up on the bed, and Carson was hiding under it--the thunder made him even more nervous than Sheryl. Jiriku, after enough clerics had arrived that he was no longer needed, had gone off somewhere and was now nowhere to be found. "What a day..." Andrea groaned, putting the lantern on a bedside table and running her fingers through her hair. She was extremely tired, yet also stiff from the day's work. "Get off, you," she said, shooing Sheryl off the bed and sitting down there herself. As Sheryl snorted, Andrea lay down and started running through her muscle relaxation/deep breathing exercises. Within a few minutes most of the stress of the day had left her, and she just felt tired. And she was worried. She had blocked it out earlier, when there had been people to be taken care of, but now it came back in full force. Kyhra--what had happened to him? Jiriku seemed to think that he was dead. So what if he was? Andrea had lost people she cared about before--gods, she'd lost her entire FAMILY before going through puberty. So what was so special about Kyhra? She'd only known him for a day or so... This question was the last thing on Andrea's mind as she drifted off to sleep... [ADMIN NOTE: The entry "Adventures in Real Estate" comes next, chronologically.] -- Chris Meadows || Pity me, I live near Branson!!! CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || ----------------------------------- CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || Andrea & Sheryl CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || [AU] thread, alt.pub.dragons-inn Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!elroy.jpl.nasa.gov!usc!zaphod.mps.ohio-state.edu!dar win.sura.net!news-feed-1.peachnet.edu!umn.edu!CSM560.smsu.edu!vma.smsu.edu.Ext! CHM173S From: CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu (Andrea and Sheryl (Chris Meadows)) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [AU] [HouseStorming] A Game of Solitaire Date: Fri, 16 Apr 93 00:06:25 CDT Organization: The Search for a.p.d-i Readers on FurryMUCK Lines: 155 Message-ID: <16BB2182.CHM173S@vma.smsu.edu.Ext> NNTP-Posting-Host: vma.smsu.edu Keywords: [AU] [HouseStorming] Andrea Sheryl Enn Piecy Kardia unicorn X-Newsreader: NNR/VM S_1.3.2 ADMIN: Hi! It's Andrea and Sheryl again, with yet another post tonight! This one takes place AFTER "Adventures in Real Estate." Now that the timeline is completely unbroken once more, we can get on with things. Those of us who have already been through the storm, anyway--Sheryl and I have noticed a couple of people, like Jameson, who have yet to experience it! Not that you should hurry up or anything. The last thing we want to do is force people to rush their posts. Anyway, here it is. We would like to thank everybody. More complete thanks may be found in the weekly review of the [AU] thread...I'm not going to retype the whole thing here. For now, we just want to say thank you, you know who you are. Oh, and we almost forgot...the last part of the entry was written partly by us and partly by Liralen Li (Kardia). Thanks! On with the storyline. Hit it, Sheryl! That afternoon, Andrea was sitting in the common room of the Dragon's Inn. She didn't have anything particularly pressing that needed to be done--all those who had been injured by the storm were now under the care of healing clerics--so she was playing a game of solitaire to pass the time while Sheryl was lying down over near Listener, who was sitting on the mantel singing and playing. The game was called Klondike--Fujiko had taught it to her during her time at the Selactican Thieves' Guild. The setting involved seven piles of cards of varying height, stacked from one card high on the very left to seven cards high on the far right. The top card of each pile was turned face-up, the rest were face-down. Cards were taken from these piles, as well as the draw pile, and placed in ascending order on the suit piles, and also placed in descending order alternating red and black on the top of the setting piles. Sometimes Andrea would win the game fairly, other times she would have to resort to "sneaking" a card out from the bottom of one of the layout piles to finish the game. Currently, the only card that was holding Andrea up was the 4 of spades. It wasn't in the draw pile; she'd been through it twice already. It had to be in one of the setting piles. "You're good with the cards." Andrea looked up, startled. "Huh?" The voice had come from that adolescent seer, Enn Piecy. Without asking, he sat down across the table from her. "It's this card here, you know." Enn tapped the second card in the pile at the right end of the layout, relative to Andrea, under the up-turned 6 of spades. "That's the card you want." Andrea grunted, putting a 7 of hearts from the draw pile onto an 8 of clubs, then moving the 6 of spades over onto it. She flipped the card beneath it--the 4 of spades, just as Piecy had predicted. "I'm good with cards, too," Enn said matter-of-factly. Andrea finished the game, putting all the cards onto their piles and then shuffling them together. Just for fun, she shuffled them into order without looking--A,A,A,A,2,2,2,2, etc.--and fanned them out. Enn nodded. "Wish I could do that," he said wistfully. "Just practice, that's all it takes," Andrea said. "I can show you the basics sometime, if you want." She finished shuffling, cut the deck, and flipped it at Enn, who plucked it from midair. "As long as I'm here, I might as well do a reading for you," Enn said, dealing out some cards. "Don't you have to use a special deck?" Andrea asked. "Like tarot or something?" Enn Piecy shook his head, laying out more cards. "Only if the customer wants to be impressed," he said. "Otherwise, I just use whatever method is most convenient. There are dozens of ways to read fortunes. Tarot, standard deck, casting coins or sticks, signs in nature, numerology...I can even read tea leaves, though I rarely ever do that." "Too hard?" Andrea asked. "No, it's just that I never could stand to drink the stuff." Enn concentrated on the layout for a few minutes. "Hmmm," he said at last. "You and some companions are about to embark on a perilous undertaking--" "The house!" Andrea said. "It has to be the old house!" "Could be..." Enn admitted. "But then again, it might be something else entirely. You never can be sure, with the cards." "What else do they say?" Andrea asked eagerly. "Is there anything else that can help us?" "Patience, ma'am, patience..." Enn Piecy drew another card and examined it. "You will face great danger, but if you persevere, the end will hold both triumph and reversal." Enn sat back in his chair, crossed his arms behind his head. "That's it." "That's IT?" Andrea asked incredulously. "Nothing else?" "Hey, if I told you everything, it would take all the fun out of living through it. Nobody should know his own future too well. That's why I rarely do readings for myself. But still..." He pulled out a couple more cards, examined them, and his face turned grave. "I think I had better give you this." He pulled a small silver ring out of one of the pockets of his robe. "Wear this on your right ring finger," he said. Andrea slipped it on. It felt warm against her finger, even though it hadn't been worn. "What is this for?" "You'll know when the time comes for it," Enn said. "Just whatever you do, don't take that ring off." He looked very worried. Andrea noticed Enn's worry. "Well, if you say so..." She adjusted the ring on her finger. "Thanks...I have a feeling that soon I will need all the magical help I can get." "This doesn't mean we're engaged or anything," Enn Piecy explained hastily. Andrea grinned and chuckled. "Of course not. Well, thanks for your reading, and for the gift of this ring." Enn nodded. "That's why I'm here. Just remember me later on, okay?" He looked around. "Excuse me--I'd better return to my dark corner." He put the rest of the deck down, stood, and walked away. Andrea watched him go, then looked at the ring. "Huh." Just then, the door swung open and Kardia walked in with 'Raelf behind her. 'Raelf went to join ar'Elya at their table. Andrea waved to 'Raelf and called out, "Hey, Kardia, over here!" as she swept up the laid-out cards, squared the deck, and put it up. Kardia walked over to the table with a smile on her face about a mile wide and a slightly strangely elongated stride with her left foot. Andrea wondered momentarily how she was able to walk now yet earlier had been forced to hobble about with the aid of a staff, but dismissed the question because it wasn't polite to pry. "Nice day for a walk." Kardia said with that smile still on her face. "Yes, it is, isn't it?" Andrea said, regarding her enigmatically. She pursed her lips and whistled for Sheryl. The little 'corn got up, nickered, and trotted over to Kardia, who petted her on the neck. "Braids?" Kardia asked, noticing the state of Sheryl's mane and tail. "A little girl down at the Temple of Aditi did it," Andrea said. "I think it's rather cute, don't you?" Sheryl snorted in disgust, causing both Kardia and Andrea to laugh out loud, to her consternation. "So, Andrea, have you and Sheryl decided just what you wish to do about the curse?" Kardia asked, shifting her legs under the table, still smiling. Andrea nodded. "We would like you to dispel the curse, as long as doing so would not interfere with Sheryl's current shape-identity." Kardia nodded. "Is there somewhere we can talk in private and I can get a full set of measurements?" Andrea nodded. "Our room in the back." "Okay, good. I need to discuss this operation with you." Andrea and Kardia got up, their chairs producing a scraping sound as they pushed back from the table, and walked toward the corridor, with Sheryl right behind. Enn Piecy watched them go from his corner. He grinned. The cards never lied, no matter whose deck they were from. The coming events were going to be very interesting, to be sure. He was glad he would be around to watch them. -- Chris Meadows || Pity me, I live near Branson!!! CHM173S@SMSVMA.BITNET || ----------------------------------- CHM173S@VMA.SMSU.EDU || Andrea & Sheryl CMEADOWS@NYX.CS.DU.EDU || [AU] thread, alt.pub.dragons-inn Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!spool.mu.edu!eng.ufl.edu!usenet.ufl.edu!news.miami.e du!cybernet!news From: wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu (christopher motherway) Subject: [Raoh]->[AU][Housestorming] Returning home...or what's left of it Message-ID: Sender: news@cybernet.cse.fau.edu Organization: Cybernet BBS, Boca Raton, Florida Date: Fri, 16 Apr 1993 17:13:22 GMT Lines: 190 ADMIN: Okay, the [Raoh] string ends here. To all involved, thanks. You've done phenom. Now, it has been a little under two months since the team left. The [Storm] has passed, and the team are just about to arrive back at Generica to pursue their own lives again.... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - "...And so Rustan showed up and help the prisoners out of the city, and Firecat and I ran to help you, chopping some underlings along the way." The team listened to Garol talking of his adventure getting the prisoners out of the Tower Dungeon of Kassandra. Only Lance was not listening with a full ear; he was busy composing "The Conquering of a Conqueror" on his mandolin. This was the first time he had to write a song for a good while; the last one he wrote was a love song to Blaze. "It will certainly be great to get back to Generica again." said Firecat. "I suggest a tankard of drinks to all of us once we return to the Dragon's Inn!" All agreed, even Lance. The Murduk Whiskers in Specifica of Cod could not compare to the one Littlefair mixed. "Well," said Brycur, "I want to check on my store first. I haven't been away from it this long for quite some time." Lance re-slung his mandolin across his back and said, "Gentlemen, again I want to say thank you for assisting us. Your rewards were well deserved and you have my gratitude for..." The last word stuck in his throat. The team had arrived at the valley on the north edge of Generica. Looking down, they saw the city. It was a mess. Rustan said, "What happened here?!?" Lance replied, "I do not know, but we had better find out!" The team raced, at full gallop, to the North Gate. The gaurd outside halted them. "Hold, adventurers. Why the hurry?" Lance said, "Forgive me, sir, but we saw damage from the hill up there. We have been away a while. What has happened?" The gaurd looked more carefully and said, "Oh, yeah! You guys went to kill that Raoh character. Well, anyway, a vicious hurricane-type storm hit here about a week or two ago. Trashed a lot of buildings, but the overall damage was not that bad." As soon as Blaze heard the word "storm", she started weeping a little. "Oh, Lance," she cried, "this could have been the after-effect of my reviving you." Lance quickly replied, "No, Blaze! If it were, Generica would not be here at all. This is not your fault, beloved. Believe me. I can feel a little evil in the air, and if I know anything, it is that you are definitely not evil." Blaze wiped her tears and said, "I..I suppose you are right, my love. I also feel the evil." "Oh, it was an evil one, all right." said the guard. "Speculation said it could have been a wizard storm, but, then again, no one is absolutely sure." Lance turned to the group and said, "Go where you must, my friends. Blaze and I are headed for the Dragon's Inn...it IS still standing, I hope." "Oh, sure it is. Like I said, t'wasn't any major damage." With that the gaurd allowed them to proceed into the city. [Insert re-edited version of the end of this post here...after I find it.]