The Flight Of The B;ack Dragon - a Fantasy Tale

[demus]

A *BUMP* so Kiwidoc can write some more of it up

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Nicodemus Deathslayer, Paladin and Undead Hunter of the Order of the Holy Flame

[Victor von Steiner]

Come one everyone this is really good. Post your comments. This is some of the best reading that I have read in along time.

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Vampire Lord

I am your Lord.
I dine on the Best.
So come, give me your BLOOD!

[This message has been edited by Victor von Steiner (edited 07-15-2001).]

[kiwidoc]

The next installment - and I refuse to apologise for the delays

Chapter Three: The Woman in White - Part 2

Errol turned to the rest of the party and smiled, then spoke in measured and somewhat serious tones.

"Now this is much better. This woman may be from some strange culture or place, and the way we behave, the movements we make with our lips when we talk must have made her laugh. Humour always reaches out to cross boundaries."

PG bit her lip to stifle a giggle. Errol bent to speak quietly to Kyan

"She is quite a beauty too, would you not agree? I feel that we should follow her."

Assam nodded. The only way they would ever get out of this predicament was by talking to this woman. She turned and spoke quickly to those behind her.

"Look, we need to try and see what see wants. Anybody who wants to come along should do so now. We need to proceed calmly and as a group so we don't frighten her away.”

With that the shy monk scurried back into the room to collect her belongings.

PG cast a radiant smile back at the woman and began to follow her down the corridor, whispering to the others.

"OK now we've been sprung from the jail, so let’s see what they want. And pretty little Ceylar, don't you worry. I'll make sure no one touches you … well unless you want them to that is!"

Ceylar threw a baleful glare at PG and hissed back, "Thank you my dear, but I am quite capable of ensuring I will not receive anymore unwanted touches.”

She peeked surreptitiously at the two men who HAD touched her to be sure they could not hear and then continued with a disdainful look at PG’s attire.

“If I were you my dear I would worry more about protecting yourself from unwelcome touches. That is of course assuming that any touch is ever unwelcome.”

She flinched a little as PG, Kyan, Lapsyng and Twai turned identical glares at her.

"All right I will go along with the rest of this time, but I still hold several qualms about this whole charade."

The lithe and graceful form of the elven bard sinuously slipped to the front of the group and bowed elegantly to the woman in white. With a charming smile Lapsyng began to chat to her, a fluid musical stream of phrases. He knew odds were she could not understand the words but perhaps she could hear the friendliness in the tone and his undoubted charm would win through. At the very least it would let her become acquainted with the sounds of Common.

By now all of the party were steadily making their way down the corridor except Da’ar, who had sneaked back to grab another roll. Twai walked back to the door, one hand on her hip, and raised her eyebrow meaningfully. Spraying bread crumbs everywhere he answered her in his usual cheerful and above all loud voice.

"Merely stockin' me belly, ne'er knows when I git anotha chance to et. Hmm, yon lass, she's a'ight fer a human. Needs a beard though."

He hitched his trousers up and scratched his groin.

"Iffen we’s ready, p’raps we’s should go"

As the group followed the graceful and beautiful lady their normal banter and interplay fell away to an awed silence as their eyes were filled with one wonder after the other. The hallway they found themselves in had pale walls in a smooth material that shone with an inner sparkle that was almost like marble, but not quite. Set into these walls were panels that shone with a soft and inexplicable glow. At the far end they came to a set of twin doors, identical to those opening out from their own room. The women bent her head and touched one of the bright gems on her brooch, and the doors slid magically open with the faintest of hisses.

Once again they were in a long hall. This one had soft swirls of green and blue deep within the walls that gradually twisted in a slow dance of colour, drifting in shifting patterns to please the eye and ease the heart. Strange globes of gold and crystal hung from the ceiling, filled with a soft white light that did not flicker or vary. From somewhere unseen the sounds of chiming, sweet music fell gently on their ears. It was strange but beautiful - haunting melody lines with deep, rich underpinning chords played on no instruments they had ever known before.

Rows of plain doors lined each side of the long hall. Twai followed the woman in silence, hunting for anything that would give some clue as to where they were and what could lie behind the doors, but everything just seemed unfamiliar, confusing and perhaps faintly intimidating It was clear that this was the largest building she had ever been inside and definitely the strangest. She swallowed hard to fend of the wave of nervousness that threatened to engulf her. This was not like her at all, very little rocked her usual internal clam and equanimity. She took a long breath and firmly she told herself to calm down

Once again they stopped before twin doors and once again a deft touch to the brooch caused the doors to open. These gave onto a wide, well lit room. To the left there was a wall that was not a wall – living stone formed a sheer face with fern fronds draping in delicate traceries from little ledges, and ivy and moss plait and intertwined in patterns of green on the grey. Shining crystals of rich hue flashed from the rock, brightest blue and deepest red. A small waterfall danced and chattered its way down the rock face, to a crystal clear pool below where fish patterned in red, gold and silver swam lazily over a bed of multicoloured pebbles. PG gasped, her quick eyes were first to spot the greatest wonder of all. To her delight in front of the “crystals” began to move till the whole rock face was a living, dancing maze of flashing colour – a score of brilliant, iridescent butterflies fluttered and flickered above and around the waterfall.

On the right there was a single door set into a plain, grey wall. The lady once again bent her head but this time she did not touch her brooch, but it seemed as though she spoke to it. With a soft sigh the door slid open and revealed a large and very odd semicircular room. The high walls were set with a myriad of square cut crystals and rectangular gems that winked and flashed with bright light against a pattern of grey, black and textured panels. A faint whirring and humming emanated from the walls – almost as if they were somehow alive.

In the centre of the far wall there stood a single chair – more of a throne than a true chair. It was fashioned in a silver metal that shone with a mirror like surface, unlike any metal that the party had seen before. The arm rests, seat and back were padded with a rich black material that looked a bit like leather but clearly wasn’t. A long hinged arm reached out over the chair and from it there hung a strange device, a little like a very odd helmet. Strange wires snaked in a multitude of directions from it, and it hummed softly and perhaps a little ominously. Twai gave the device a sharp look. It seemed to be mechanical more than magical but could it be some toy of the mind flayers?

The woman in white turned to make eye contact with each member of the party one by one and gave them a warm and truly beautiful smile. Slowly and unhurriedly she turned and walked to the “throne” then calmly sat down facing the room. The helmet thrummed with power, and arcane light flashed and spun round its silvery cone. The hinged arm moved as if by some unseen hand, and the helmet slowly and smoothly came forward and down to settle on her head. There was a metallic click and black wings descended from the body of the odd device to enclose her head completely. Twai stared in utter fascination. Was she trying to show this machine was safe? Surely not – anyone knew that machines and spells could work in different ways on different people. For a long moment that lovely gentle face disappeared from view, completely enclosed in the strange and alien construct – then the dazzling smile reappeared.

The stepped up from the chair and gestured with her long, elegant hand beckoning the party to come sit on the chair. The quiet voiced ranger spoke up.

“Hmmm. This thing doesn’t appear to have harmed her. I don't think there is anything to be worried about. So, what are we waiting for? Shall we give that helmet thing a try?”

Twai shook her head and held up one hand to prevent the impulsive ranger form moving.

“Wait a minute. I am still not too happy about this. Errol, what do you sense from the lady.”

The grey haired paladin bowed his head in concentration and lifted his hands out palm up as he sent his awareness out to the woman.

Kyan turned to him.

”How do you feel about it now? Is she trying something evil?”

"Everything seems to be safe. I can sense no evil. This woman is only trying to help us, but how she plans to do this I cannot say. I suppose all I can do is to trust my senses, and besides we have little choice. I will do as she wishes."

With this he nodded to the woman, and strode forward to sit on the “throne”.

Ceylar watched the interchange with rising suspicion, a frown marring her pretty features. She muttered sideways to PG.

"I am glad he is the one to go up there because there is no way in all the seven hell’s I am sitting in that thing till someone else has tried it. I still don’t trust this whole charade one little bit. For all we know we may be in some sort of mind flayer lair or suchlike"

The group watched in silence with no little trepidation as Earl seated him self on the chair. Once again the helmet flashed and hums, and it moved smoothly and mysteriously to settle over Errols head. For a few heart-stopping moments his face disappeared from view and his body tensed visibly. Then the black wings pulled back to reveal Earl’s face, with a wondering and somewhat awestruck expression. The white clad lady smiled warmly and begins to talk rapidly at Earl. He smiled and nodded and then replied to her, talking rapidly and apparently fluently in the same incomprehensible language.

PG hissed at him.

“Well, don’t keep us all in suspense. In the name of all the good gods tell us what is going on here!”

Earl laughed and turned to turned to his companions.

"My fellow adventurers and new friends, this lady is known as Felicity but has asked us to call her Fliss. She bids us welcome to this place, called Dnoyeb. That device over there has given me the gift of understanding her language, and I can assure you it has not harmed me in any way. I will ask Fliss if you can use the device as well."

He exchanged a few more incomprehensible words with Fiss and then returned to Common once more.

“Fliss tells us you are all welcome to use the Universal translator.”


Twai took one step forward and then realised with surprise she was no longer nervous. Her previous suspicions had gone, and she no longer wanted to get away from here as soon as possible. Instead she felt an overwhelming urge to find out as much as she could from this fascinating place and this unusual and lovely lady. Besides, all this bickering had achieved nothing but upsetting themselves and their hosts. There was a time for caution and reticence and there was a time to take the lead.

"Finally time for some answers."

With that she walked to the chair and confidently sat down. As the helmet settles gently round her head she felt the cool smoothness of the strange metal, and soft padding gently rearranging itself to mould to her skull. The black wings slowly covered her entire face blocking her sight completely, yet she still felt no anxiety. Suddenly a sharp flash of severe pain ringed her skull, like a thousand tiny needles pressing into her scalp. This lasted for the briefest of moments, and a feeling of pervasive well-being flooded through her. There was a calm surety that se had gained new knowledge as the wings retreated to reveal her companions’ anxious faces.

Fliss smiled.

“Well done my new friend. I hope the pain wasn’t too bad, but it only lasts a few moments.”

It dawned on Twai that not only could she understand every word Fliss said – she could reply in her language.

“Thank you. Pain is something I am well used to dealing with so there was no problem.”

“I am very pleased to hear that. Welcome to Dnoyeb. Welcome to our home.”

One by one the rest of the party took their turn under the “Universal Translator” and Fliss greeted each one warmly. The relief in her voice was plain to hear, but there was something else as well - an undertone of caution, even a little fear perhaps. She was also a little odd in her movement and speech, just a little stilted. Twai wondered - could be that she wasn’t quite sure what her visitors were going to do next?

It slowly begins to dawn on Lapsyng what a truly beautiful language they were all speaking. It was a melodic, fluid language that flowed easily off the tongue and seems just made for singing. There were hints and nuances in it that were familiar, echoes of ancient Draconic and Elvish languages. He also noticed phrases and words he dimly recognised from archaic texts, mostly magical. What a strange but fascinating combination. He looked more closely the face of the woman before you. Just what was she? She had high and delicate cheekbones and finely slanted eyes of an elf, but there was a robustness about her body no elf ever had, and yet she did not look quite like a half elf. There was a faintly alien cast to her features and carriage.

Last to go under the device was Da’ar and true to form as soon as he sat down he hitched his leggings up, scratched his crotch and cheerfully grinned.

"Even peoples what’s lain-lun-lanj, uh, tongue I does speak is 'ard to un'erstan', but I mighten give i' a whirl. Dunno why yes all don’t just larn a bit o’ Dwarven."

After Da’ar had thumped his way back to the group Fliss began to talk to them all, a serious expression replacing her usual smile.

“I am so sorry we could not understand you without the help of this machine. Our people have been away from yours for so long, that our languages have drifted far apart. To be honest much, much more than our language has drifted. You may have seen how hard it was for Tranquillity, the first of us you met, to be around you.”

She paused, and looked at the floor for a few moments. “I know you will have many, many questions but please trust me. I can take you to one who will give you the answers if you will follow me.”

She began to walk to the door, but Ceylar spoke out, with a touch of venom in her voice.

"Now hold on there, Fliss. I am not moving an inch before you tell us why we have been brought here. This is all well and good, but now that we understand each other you owe us an explanation. What is this place, who are you and why are we here? Let this person come to us. I am not going to follow you like some meek sheep anymore. I want explanations and I want them NOW!"

Fliss winced visibly and looked for all the world like a frightened deer about to run. Twai poked the mage in her side, hard.

”CEYLON! I'm sure she'll give us all the answers; there's no need to be rude or angry with her. And as you remember from our previous encounter, this type of approach doesn't work well here.”

Kyan sighed and rolled his eyes.

”They have taken good care of us since have been as guests in this weird place. I am sure that there is a very good explanation for us being brought here in the first place. And Fliss, try not to mind our, what to you might seem brutish, actions or words. We mean you no harm as long as you don't mean any harm to us. It is clear that we are very different types of ....erm.... people. Speaking of which, who and what are you?”

PG stepped fporward quickly. This was going to get out of hand

"Hey 'Lar, be calm! I'm sure this is all going to be just fine"

She flashed a grin at Fliss.

"Well met Fliss, our apologies if we scared you. I’m sorry but the men in this group tend to think with their swords, if you know what I mean. As my companions Kyan, and Ceylar of the sweet and loving voice just said -who and what are you, and where in the Seven Hells are we now? This doesn't look like anything I've come across in Faerun before..."

Fliss relaxed somewhat when Twai, Kyan and PG added their comments, but still seemed to be keeping at least one of them between Ceylon and herself. As she replied misery filled her kindly face.

“All I know is this. You are not in Fearun … and I don’t even know where or what Faerun is. You are in Erewhon. As to who or what am I – I am Felicity. I told you that.”

She was visibly struggling to find the right words. It seemed that though the party understood the words now, they were far from fully understanding Felicity.

“I cannot tell you why the Old One brought you here. All I can tell you is that he cannot leave his room. If he could come to you he would. He would not make me suffer this for no good cause.”

She reached out her hands to them, pleading.

“Please follow me.”

Fliss turned and walked to the door. Ceylar muttered under her breath but with a quick glance at the others she fell silent.

"Follow, follow fol-de-rol...” PG sang in a cheerful off key voice and Lapsyng winced visibly, shying away from her. Not in the slightest perturbed by his reaction she prodded the bard in the ribs.

"Go on, sing the lovely Fliss a song to cheer her up while we go and see the old geezer..."

The bard gave Fliss his most charming smile.

"I would sing you a tune, but I'm a trifle hurt that PG doesn't realise that bards don't think with their swords. Bards don't think, they merely allow pure emotion to dictate their thoughts, their actions, and most especially their songs. Anyway, I certainly hope you don't expect me to perform while walking.... I must be stationary for my audience to fully appreciate my... well, me!"

He flashes a conspiratorial wink at Fliss, and then, despite his statement about performing while walking, he began to humming a sweetly mournful and wistful tune. One by one they filed through the door after Fliss – intrigued, apprehensive and above all curious.


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There is only one kiwidoc, accept no substitutes

STANDARD OPERATING PROCEEDURE
www.judyhope.co.uk

[Redblueflare]

Yay!!! I was so sure I was going to miss some of this while I was in Georgia. It's a pleasant surprise to see I didn't. I love your story Kiwidoc, and I know it takes a while for you to do this, but hurry up with your next installment would ya? I can't wait!

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Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, I just don't have to listen.

[kiwidoc]

Bumpity bump

------------------
There is only one kiwidoc, accept no substitutes

STANDARD OPERATING PROCEEDURE
www.judyhope.co.uk

[Redblueflare]

Dang you Kiwidoc I thought you'd posted a new installment here!

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Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, I just don't have to listen.

[Redblueflare]

By the way if you would please tell someone that I put a new installment in my story. I don't care if you read it, (But I would like you too.) and am asking you to help me spread the word would you? By the way when do you plan on giving us *your* next installment. Yeah I know how long it takes, and no I don't expect any apologies!

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Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, I just don't have to listen.


[This message has been edited by Redblueflare (edited 07-23-2001).]

[kiwidoc]

Chapter Three: Dracomal - Part 1

Fliss stood in silence on the far side of the hall where the waterfall danced and sang over the living rock. When all eight of the companions had finally joined her she held up one hand, motioning them to be still and turned to face the waterfall holding out her arms. She sang a pure, sweet high note, that rang and reverberated around the hall, and the water dwindled to a slow trickle, then stopped. One by one the butterflies fluttered over to settle on Fliss’s outstretched arms, her shoulders and back till she was wearing a living cape in scintillating rich blues, deepest scarlet and gold. A look of profound joy crossed her face, and she closed her eyes for a few brief moments.

A section of the rock face shimmered, wavered and then dissolved to reveal a high arched door, set in a richly carved and decorated stone architrave. Lapsyng leant forward intrigued by the fine workmanship. The door itself was formed from a richly dark and glossy wood, set with golden studs. In the centre was a an exquisite rendering of a dragon – not a truly life like portrait as it was perhaps a little stylised, but it was executed with a grace and beauty that caught his breath away.

The door swung noiselessly open and Lapsyng’s eye was immediately drawn to the tall, lean figure standing within. He was a very striking man clad entirely in black, and he leaned against the doorframe with an easy grace. The white light glittered in a myriad of shards off the silver and jet that adorned the black leathers and silk of his costume. Blue-black hair swept from his dark face in great, shimmering wings that fell halfway down his back. The face was compelling rather than truly handsome; the high arched and angular cheekbones gave it a faintly alien cast. Most striking of all were his glittering, deep black eyes. He raised one elegant long nailed hand to wave them into the room glimpsed over his shoulder. Lapsyng had a sudden mental flash of a great black cat walking the shadows under a dark and moonless sky.

“Ah, the wanderers have arrived. Let me introduce myself, my name is Dracomal.”

The voice was dark and melodic, richly layered with undertones of laughter and echoes of power. His black eyes glistened with mischievous delight as he stepped back to allow the party into the room and they entered a littler warily. He quirked his mouth in a lopsided smile and purred a commentary on them one by one.

“Now just who do we have here? The pretty princess without a kingdom searching for her true self; the knight of the people who is on the run from his own kin and their evil, aristocratic ways; the magical leading lady with no followers; the cat thief always on the lookout for a fresh juicy mouse; the hearty ranger who much prefers to follow his own paths; the monk who turns her disapproving eyes on all, but cannot look at her own memories; the fighter who has perhaps taken one to many blows to the head ... and last but very definitely not least the bard.”

He turned to Lapsang with a warm smile. “Don’t worry little mouse, your secret is safe with me. I must admit I have been enjoying your fine music, and I have food, wine and last but definitely not least fine instruments so you can regale us with your undoubted talents. Please, make yourselves at home.”

This room seemed much less strange to the companions. A high ceiling with dark and ancient wooden beams arched over a long hall built in warm coloured, finely worked stone and panelled with rich carved woodwork. The flagstones of the floor were almost completely covered with fine carpets and fine tapestries hung on the walls. At first glance these seemed to be silk but a close look showed strange but lovely fibres in bright jewel like colours forming scenes of woodlands, mountains and plains. Dragons flew in sinuous lines across them all. A large hearth held a log burning on a pair of black iron firedogs and gave off a richly fragrant smoke.

Scattered throughout the room there were many chairs, high ladder back chairs in glossy carved wood, deep comfortable chairs richly cushioned in black and red velvet patterned with stylised dragon motifs, stools upholstered in red or black leather set with gleaming silvery nails. It was obvious this room was meant to entertain many guests. Two huge, long tables stood against the wall on either side of the fireplace. The legs were carves from a dark, black wood into the semblance of great feet with mighty talons. One table bore platter after platter of food that was at once both very familiar and of truly superb quality. The other was piled with white plates embellished with a stylised dragon motif, utensils and napkins. Oddly enough the napkins were also decorated with dragons. There were jugs of foaming ale, juices and clear water and small tankards. Even the handles of the pewter tankards were fashioned in the likeness of small dragons.

For the first time there was a chance to see out of this huge building. An enormous pair of mullioned bow windows looked out on a beautiful valley. The land fell away in a long gentle slop to a river far below. The slope was chequered with gardens, orchards and farmlands and crisscrossed with wide paths paved in white stone. Trees dotted the landscape – fruit trees blossomed in the orchards, hawthorn hedges lined many of the paths and great oaks, elms, ashes and sycamores stood in solitary splendour. Birds flew over this gentle land in abundance, their familiar calls clearly heard through the glass. The room and the gentle slope seemed familiar and though beautiful, after the strangeness of the rest of the building they were very ordinary. It could have been anywhere in Faerun.

The far side of the valley was different, wilder. The land rose far more steeply. An area of green pastureland flanked the river, but this was rougher and less tamed than the pleasant fields on the near side. Above this dark forests covered steep and deeply folded hills that rose swiftly to the feet of high-shouldered grey, granite mountains capped in whitest snow.

As PG passed Dracomal hers eyes moved up and down his body in frank appraisal. She then gave her head a little shake, and with a small smile she headed up to the table, and began to fill her plate with food.

Kyan entered the room in silence, his sharp eyes taking it all in. Throughout their strange journey from their room his face had showed the occasional flash of awe but had remained largely impassive and it displayed little emotion now as he looked at the odd man in black.

“If I may, Dracomal, I believe we have seen you before.”

Errol raised an eyebrow. "Really Kyan? Interesting.”

“Errol we have all seen this man before. I do hope that others have a little longer attention span than you.”

Light dawned in Errol’s face.

"Ah, wait, now I know. I'm sorry my friend, he is the man from that eerie painting isn't he?"

Dracomal’s smile widened.

“Well done for recognising me from the Black Dragon. It is good to see there is a good brain to go with all that strength and nobility.”

Errol turned an impassive gaze on Dracomal.

“Sir, I would greatly appreciate it if you would call Errol instead of 'the knight of the people who is on the run from his own kin and their evil, aristocratic ways'. It sounds so much nicer, and besides it rolls off the tongue a little quicker."

“Please forgive me Earl. It has been so long since I have seen such …. interesting people that I couldn’t help myself from slipping back into the old ways for just a little fun.

Throughout this exchange Assam stood very still and very quiet. She alone out of this whole group appeared to be aware of just who and what this man was. Despite her heroic efforts to keep her terror hidden fear showed in her dark eyes.

At the far end of the hall, well away from the heat of the fire was a small dais. Lapsyng’s eyes were immediately drawn to a huge harp in glistening warm coloured wood inlaid with silver. At the feet of this truly magnificent instrument there rested a mandolin. Although at first glance this seems like a lesser instrument, his trained eye quickly spotted its exquisite quality. A silver and blackwood flute, a fine set of pan pipes and a series of small drums finished this remarkable collection.

Dracomal gave a faintly predatory grin.

“Ah Lapsyng, I see you have spotted my small collection. I am by way of a musician myself. I must confess I am intrigued, just who is this dragon lord you have played for?”

PG flashed an encouraging smile at Lapsyng.

"Go on Lappy, give us a tune. All we've heard so far are little squeaks like a mouse...."

With a wicked, throaty chuckle she turned away from the bard and winked at their host.

Lapsang gave PG a long, steady look, a look that was not unfriendly but it was not overly friendly either. In a light bantering tone he replied.

"For so talented a cat, you seem to have trouble discerning a nice juicy mouse from something altogether different. But no matter, I shall not hold it against you. After all, it seems I may even be just as great an enigma to Dracomal here, though he does indeed know much about me. Really, only one has ever truly figured me out, and that one is long dead now. So my little black cat, what song would you have me perform?"

Ceylar’s hackles had risen a little at being called the magical leading lady with no followers. She had managed to restrain herself to disapproving looks throughout the entire interchange but this flippancy was just too much!

"Music may be all well and good but Dracomal or whatever you call yourself, but you still haven’t told us what we are doing here and who you are, apart from your name. Please tell us what you want”

Her comrades winced visibly, and then it occurred to them that Ceylar’s tone was considerably milder than usual and she had actually said please! Perhaps she really was trying her best.

Errol stepped in to sooth the troubled waters.

“Ceylar, no need to confront our host with a barrage of questions when we are still introducing ourselves. However Dracomal, you do realize that at some point you will have to explain a few things to us?

Dracomal turned a more serious look on the entire group.

“Explanations and questions eh? But first, trust is needed and trust works both ways. Lapsyng my silver tongued friend. Tell me more of this Dragon Lord you have entertained with your undoubted skills.”

"Why, you ask me which dragon lord I played for, when it was under your very likeness I played so many nights. By admitting that you listened to me, you admit that I have entertained you, and unless you claim that you have listened to another more frequently than I, you just told me that I am your favorite bard. And as for the ceremony to dub me so... what we've already been through this day has more ceremony to it than most state functions. So while my comments were made prematurely, of course, they were obviously utterly factual. I'm so glad to have finally met the man who thinks so highly of me."

Lapsang smiled broadly, giving a little laugh and impressing even himself with his amazing logical deduction. He was completely unaware of the rolled eyes and stifled coughs behind his back.

"I apologise for any misunderstandings. I also apologise for any mistrust I may have for you, but you did speak of trust working both ways, and since you seem to know so much of us, I would ask merely to learn something of yourself. To that effect, I have a spell memorized that will allow me to read your thoughts. Since you know me so well, you should know that it will not harm you in any way, shape, or form. So I would like to know if you are willing to submit to this handy little spell of mine..."

Dracomal spread his hands in a gesture of submission and nodded. Lapsyng pulled a copper piece from his pouch and began to chant softly weaving his hands. His face was set deep in concentration for he was not merely casting the simple spell “Detect Thoughts” but he secretly weaving a second spell through and around it, one designed to call forth a wave of friendly warmth to the caster. The spells were cast, the deed was done and Lapsyng nervously studied the thoughts fleeting across the surface of Dracomal’s richly complex mind. Had it worked, had he got away with it?

The reply came in a totally unexpected manner. As Lapsang prepares and casts his Emotion spell, it has a most unexpected effect. Dracomal tipped back his head and laughed uproariously, a rich, deep and very infectious laugh.

“Oh, my. Little mouse you are a cheeky little mouse indeed.”

Then his face turned serious. “But you are right, you have explained yourself and now it is time for me to trust you.”

He lifted his head, smiled a sweet, sad wistful smile and held out his hands palm upwards. Those with the eyes to see and the sense to feel were aware of the feeling of walls falling, of vast iron gates unlocking. By its very absence they all realised just how much power had been filling the room till a mere moment or two ago.

“Go ahead … look at me and study me all you want.”

Errol and Assam bent their heads in prayer. Ceylar began to weave hey hands and chant as well, taking great care to stay out of line of sight of Dracomal till the very last moment before she cast her spell.

Assam spoke in a quest, dignified voice.

“Though it surprises me greatly to say it, I can find no evil in you.”

Errol’s voice was firm and clear.

“Nor can I.”

Dracomal sighed wistfully and settled back into a huge chair, upholstered in black and deep red leather.

“Friends, it appears we have all decided to trust each other. This is a long story so I advise you to get some food and make yourself comfortable before we start. “


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There is only one kiwidoc, accept no substitutes

STANDARD OPERATING PROCEEDURE
www.judyhope.co.uk
THE ABYSS - FREE FORM ROLEPLAYING
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[This message has been edited by kiwidoc (edited 07-23-2001).]

[Redblueflare]

This is great Kiwidoc! But why did you stop right there? I think I have a good idea of where this going, but i'm not completely sure yet, so I won't say anything about it. You're going to get this published right?

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Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, I just don't have to listen.

[MilamberfromElysium]

If she does I want royalties

You guys didnt really think Ceylar's charming personality could spring from the mind of such a nice person as kiwi did you?