<html xmlns:v="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:vml" xmlns:o="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:office" xmlns:w="urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:word" xmlns:m="http://schemas.microsoft.com/office/2004/12/omml" xmlns="http://www.w3.org/TR/REC-html40"><head><META HTTP-EQUIV="Content-Type" CONTENT="text/html; charset=us-ascii"><meta name=Generator content="Microsoft Word 12 (filtered medium)"><style></style></head><body lang=EN-US link=blue vlink=purple><div class=WordSection1>Ok. What is rule # 34?<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p>Chris<o:p></o:p>The Lurking Fox<o:p></o:p><o:p> </o:p><o:p> </o:p><div><div style='border:none;border-top:solid #B5C4DF 1.0pt;padding:3.0pt 0in 0in 0in'>From: mkguild-bounces@lists.integral.org [mailto:mkguild-bounces@lists.integral.org] On Behalf Of Hallan Mirayas Sent: Monday, May 30, 2011 5:19 PM To: Metamor Keep Subject: Re: [Mkguild] Healing Wounds in Arabarb (46 of ?)<o:p></o:p></div></div><o:p> </o:p>*happy dances along with!*  And at the hand of his own monster, no less.  Classic. :) Evil Overlord List Rule #48: I will treat any beast which I control through magic or technology with respect and kindness. Thus if the control is ever broken, it will not immediately come after me for revenge.  At least he avoided Rule #34, though. :) > From: chrisokane@verizon.net > To: jagille3@vt.edu; MKGuild@lists.integral.org > Date: Mon, 30 May 2011 13:14:13 -0400 > Subject: Re: [Mkguild] Healing Wounds in Arabarb (46 of ?) > > You finally killed Calephas! Hurrah! I've waited for that monsters death > for a long time! > > *Does a happy dance! > > Chris > The Lurking Fox > > > > > > -----Original Message----- > From: mkguild-bounces@lists.integral.org > [mailto:mkguild-bounces@lists.integral.org] On Behalf Of C. Matthias > Sent: Monday, May 23, 2011 4:39 AM > To: Metamor Keep > Subject: [Mkguild] Healing Wounds in Arabarb (46 of ?) > > Healing Wounds in Arabarb > By Charles Matthias > > > One thing that Alfwig had grown used to in the two months he had been > chained in the dungeon of Fjellvidden castle was the sounds of the > river rushing past. The water lapped at the stone foundations and > when the tide was high, at the floor beneath him. It almost purred as > it flowed to the distant ocean. No matter when he felt tired, it > never ceased to lull him to sleep. Fitful sleep with bad dreams > perhaps, but still sleep nevertheless. > > This meant that even he could hear the sound of fighting in the city > when it began. It may not be in the castle, but it was sufficient for > him. Alfwig slipped free of the bonds that Yajgaj had undone, rubbed > his wrist and ankles for a moment, stretched his legs one last time, > and then walked carefully across the dungeon. Even though Yajgaj had > extinguished the torches, after two months, there was not a crevice > in the dungeons that Alfwig didn't know as intimately as his own he art. > > The door was unlocked and beyond he saw light at the top of the > stairs. Only a single lantern, but it was enough to make the man's > eyes wince. Alfwig shadowed his eyes with his forearm as he climbed > the steps softly and carefully, listening for the sounds of anyone > approaching. The castle was silent, and now out of the dungeons he > couldn't even hear the distant combat. > > At the first landing he saw the lantern hanging from the wall > overlooking a sleeping cot covered in furs suitable to a Lutin. A > pair of chests rested against the back wall. Alfwig found both of > them unlatched. Fresh clothes suited to his frame were tucked into > one, while good leather armor had been carefully arrayed in the > second. He lifted the armor to his nose and smiled faintly. Crisp and > with the familiar scent of the oil he'd used while working in Ture's > tannin g shop. This was indeed the armor he had fashioned for himself > a few months ago as he'd looked forward to the day that he would help > his people be free of the tyrants that had unmanned them. > > He stripped out of his dungeon rags, able to rip the cloth from his > chest and legs rather than both to take the time to remove them. > Then, he pulled on the fresh cloths and delighted in how good a fit > they were. Yajgaj had clearly studied him well in preparation for > this day. How long had that Lutin been planning to betray Calephas > and Gmork, and why do so only now? > > Once he dressed, Alfwig donned the armor and stretched it to make > sure it was still flexible. He then searched for his sword, but > neither was there even a dagger in the trunks, nor was there a sword > anywhere near them. He finally found his blade beneath the cot just > as Yajgaj had promised. A sma ll covered platter of bread and cheese > was waiting for him. There was only enough for a few bites so he > quickly chewed both. > > His sword had been freshly oiled and sharpened as if it had been done > by a weaponsmith of Arabarb. Yajgaj surprised him anew. He swung the > sword a few times, savoring the feel of a blade in his hand again. > Alfwig smiled in satisfaction, and then started up the stairs. He > knew the path to Calephas's laboratory; he'd been brought there often > enough. This would be the last time he ever walked that dark corridor > that smelled of death. > > "Lhindesaeg," he murmured under his breath when he reached the top of > the landing, "I'm coming." > > ---------- > > At the end of a long corridor at the very bottom of the castle, two > levels down from the laboratory, was a solid black iron door. The > only one who ever ca me to this door was Baron Garadan Calephas. And > so it was now, accompanied by the tiger Weaker, that Calephas came to > it one last time. He threw the heavy latch and pushed the door out > into the crisp air and the small dock beneath the castle. The yawl > stretched against the stone pier, the river slowly moving past here, > but still strong enough to easily carry them out into the main > current and sweep them past the city within minutes. > > The Baron smiled in relief. He had hoped he would not have to pass > any of the soldiers, especially the Lutins and most especially any of > Gmork's pups along the way from his laboratory. He'd seen not a soul > and his sword remained unused in its scabbard at his side. He glanced > at the tiger carrying the chest with his potions and gestured for him > to go through. "Set them on the ship and haul in the anchor. I'll > ready the mizze n and then we'll cast off." > > Weaker nodded mutely, climbed down the stone steps to the wharf and > then over the gunwale near the bow. Calephas watched him set the > chest in the little niche between either side of the fo'c'sle before > turning to secure the iron door. It took both of his arms to swing it > shut. A large iron bar was attached the stone wall next to the door. > It was free of rust only because the Baron came here and treated it > with his alchemical concoctions at least once a week even in bleakest > winter. No amount of soldiers would batter down this door. Gmork > could do it, but Gmork would be busy defending the castle from the > idiots in the Resistance. > > Calephas laughed to himself as he thought on it. Let them fight. In > an hour he would be far downriver and by the evening his potions > would be ready. Come the morning he could stretch majestic wings and > fly wherever he wished to go, a mighty wyrm at last. > > How many of his enemies had sought to destroy him over the long > years? His rivals in the Midlands had driven him into exile, but he > had ended up conquering Arabarb with Nasoj's help to gain a land even > vaster than the one his birthright had provided him. Two years ago > he'd been given the task of preparing a mountain assault upon the > northwestern edge of Metamor Valley. The Keepers had driven him back > and slaughtered his men, but not before his spies had found paths > through the forests that could help Nasoj's armies march straight to > Metamor without the fools in Hareford or the Glen any the wiser. > > And how well he remembered that attack the previous winter. > Everything had seemed to go according to plan at first, that was, > until one of Nasoj's divisions decided to ransack the Glen as they > passed. The Glenners had found his encampment despite the winter's > grip and a betrayal from within his own rank had handed him over to > them. How he longed for the day he could feast on Andrig and > Gaerwog's flesh. The thought of ripping their bodies to pieces with > serrated teeth and cooking their flesh with his very breath brought > an icy thrill that made him shiver as he crossed the pier to the aft > of the yawl and climbed aboard. > > Even though the Glenners had captured him, he had still escaped and > while leading the remnants of his army north, led those overrated > Long Scouts into a trap that very nearly decimated them. A magical > artiface alone had saved them, one that Nasoj had long sought vainly. > > And of course, Calephas could not forget his alliance with Lilith and > the gift of the draconian potions. From every defeat he grew > stronge r. And now he would never need to fear defeat again. > > He laughed to himself as he pondered all of these events, hands > carefully readying the mizzen mast. He was so wrapped up in his joy > that he didn't even bother watching Weaker haul in the anchor. The > tiger stood staring at the anchor chain and crank for several long > seconds before bending over the side and grabbing the heavy chain in > his paws and lifting it up with his own remarkable strength. His lips > curled back with each pull revealing sharp fangs and a long raspy > tongue. Golden eyes narrowed as the anchor, a massive rusted piece of > metal that weighed at least twenty-five stone, emerged above the > surface of the water and clunked against the side of the ship. This > he grabbed and hauled over the gunwale along with the chain, and held > in his paws as if it were a holy object. > > Calephas, finished with the mizzen, moved to the port to undo the > ropes lashed to the pier when he noticed Weaker standing next to > fo'c'sle with the anchor in his paws. "Weaker, what are you doing?" > > The tiger glanced at him and his lips curled in a snarl. "Wicked." > > His hand reached for his sword and his voice deepened with the > authority that he had once used to break this tiger. "What did you > say to me, slave?" > > The tiger lifted the anchor a little higher, the chain clinking as it > dragged across the wood of the yawl. His voice hissed with predatory > exhilaration. "My name is Wicked!" With a heave he drove the anchor > down into the chest at his feet. The wood cracked and splintered, and > the three exquisite bottles with his precious potion shattered and > spilled their contents across the deck. > > "No!" Calephas shouted in fierce rage. His sword leaped int o his hand > as he dashed across the short distance. He swung the blade at the > tiger's side, but the Keeper swung the anchor up to meet the blade. > He was faster than Calephas had imagined carrying so heavy a weight, > as he deftly parried blow after blow from the heavy sword. Calephas > had to yank his sword back each time to keep the blade from snapping > against the anchor. > > The tiger's eyes were fierce with triumph as he stepped to the right, > moving slowly around the baron. Calephas felt only rage and hate for > this traitorous slave. The loss of the potions was devastating, but > he knew enough now that he could create them anew. It would take > months, but he would do it. First this tiger would die. > > His voice was ever one of his weapons. "You little shit! How dare you > try to stop me from striking you! You are nothing without me, Weaker. > You are a weakling without me. You are dust! An ant! Dung! I am your > master! I am your god, Weaker. Drop that anchor and face my wrath as > you ought! I am your god!" > > Weaker smiled at him and kept turning to the side. He never lashed > out with the anchor, only deflected Calephas's sword blows. All the > baron needed was for this foolish Keeper to try to strike him once > and it would be over. No matter how fast he could move that heavy > weight, Calephas could slip through his attack. His sword had already > nicked the tiger in the upper arms three times and the trails of > blood were staining his orange and black fur as they dripped down to > join the mess of purple and gray smearing the deck. > > And then, after the tiger was finally back on the gunwale side, he > shifted to his right with the anchor and Calephas drove home in the > slight window between his arm and chest. The blade sank deep into his > flesh, piercing just beneath his lung. Blood spurted along the haft > of his sword and the tiger's expression of delight became blank with pain. > > "Weaker," Calephas sneered as he slid the blade further into the > tiger's belly, curving it as he drew it back out. Another moment and > the craven beast's innards would spill across the deck. > > But the tiger lowered his right arm and grabbed the chain dangling > from the end of the anchor and grinned. "More Wicked," he said with a > vicious hiss before he turned and threw the anchor over the gunwale. > > The chain which had been dragged along as the tiger had circled him > snapped into the air, caught Calephas behind the back and shoved him > into the tiger's chest, the sword driving completely through the > tiger's middle as the breath was forced from his lungs. Calephas > tried to scr eam as he clawed at his slave's shoulders to break free > before the sinking anchor vaulted them from their feet and carried > them both down into the water tangled in the heavy chain. > > The yawl rocked back and forth for a moment after they disappeared. > The water rippled with the current that babbled briskly in the sudden > silence. > > > ---------- > > May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love, > > Charles Matthias > > > > > _______________________________________________ > MKGuild mailing list > MKGuild@lists.integral.org > http://lists.integral.org/listinfo/mkguild > > > > > _______________________________________________ > MKGuild mailing list > MKGuild@lists.integral.org > http://lists.integral.org/listinfo/mkguild <o:p></o:p></div> !DSPAM:4de7b8a8267691795620989! </body></html>