From: rigler@galileo.ifa.hawaii.edu (Michael A. Rigler) Date: 24 Aug 92 04:14:43 GMT Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [KQ] Thk [Factory] MADHOUSE! PRODUCTION FLOOR OF THE JOYSTIX FACTORY: Quruuminias, the Illythid alchemist, aims a psionic blast at Marcel; but his plan backfires: The CyberKnight blows a microchip and charges at his tormentor in a berserker fury, drawing his sword as he lurches forward. "Un-GGaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!" The mind flayer raises his six red fingers. ~FREEZE!~ But the command finds no purchase on the overloaded circuit boards. Quruuminias cringes in horror as the Cyberknight's razor-sharp blade shears downwards in an arc which will surely split him in two. There is no time! -- * SHREEAAK! * Quruuminias opens his eyes in surprise, to see two crossed swords mere inches above his head. Marcel's monofilament blade has bit deeply into Arvor's Zweihander sword and the two armored juggernauts stand locked in a duel of strength. SAVED! Quruuminias rolls out from under their feet and scurries away. ----- --------- ------ ----- --------- ------ ----- --------- ------ Meanwhile, up on the catwalk, 'Raelf has set fire to the rope by which Thk is suspended above the boiling cauldron, (over)confident in the lizardman's resources. He then turns his attention to the two guards on the catwalk, thinking them easy meat... But what the Cosmic Surfer doesn't know, is that these two grunts have been standing on the catwalk above the boiling cauldron for ten minutes, inhaling the noxious vapours of Quruuminius's latest experiment: The evil mind flayer has been developing a modification to the joystix formulae designed to convert common soldiers into fanatically loyal berserkers, with grossly amplified combat abilities. The formulae is far from perfection, however. This version typically induces a five minute psychotic frenzy, characterised by superhuman strength, and inevitably followed by a massive cerebral hemorrage (too much PCP). The guards are positioned on either side of 'Raelf on the catwalk. No sense in waiting for them to team up. 'Raelf leaps forwards to bonk one on the head with his wooden staff. Too late, the Cosmic Surfer, notices the man's drug-maddened, whirlpooling eyes -- *CRACK* -- and breaks the man's right collarbone. "Dude! Didn't that hurt?" "Asparagus for dinner AGAIN, Mother?" With blinding speed, the man reaches up with his left hand and yanks the staff out of 'Raelf's grasp as easily as if he were a child. The staff clatters to the floor far below. "Oh-oh." ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thk opens his eyes to appraise his surroundings. (Nope, it is NOT just a bad hangover.) His is suspended upside down by a strong rope. Ten feet below his head, noxious vapors billow off the bubbling surface of some vile reddish mixture stewing in a large cauldron. He smiles. How many times in the past has he made stew out of his enemies? And now the tables are turned. How poetic. He swivels his head towards the sounds on the nearby catwalk. Is that 'Raelf? Oh-oh! The Cosmic Surfer appears to be taking a rather severe beating by two salivating guardsmen. Thk has never seen human beings act with such ferocity and abandon, as though they were mad beasts. He can barely make out the Surfer struggling beneath the hail of descending fists. The catwalk groans and sways, looking as though it will give way any second. Something must be done! He looks down towards the crashing noises below, where Marcel and another armored warrior are circling each other with waving swords, upsetting the furniture. He spots the mindflayer frantically trying to crawl to safety, and calls down in Lizardspeak. "Hey, Mollusk Lips! Time to face The Slayer!" The mindflayer looks up and frowns. His psionic energies have not yet had sufficient time to recharge. Thk grins, and flexes his bulging arms. "I am very strong. You are very smart. Not smart enough, however, to buy good rope." * THPACK * His hands are free. Now, should he cast a spell? Or swing over to the catwalk? Or...? The mindflayer grins. Thk frowns. "Why do you grin? I'm about to bite off your squid-like head!" The mindflayer points to a spot above him. Thk looks up in time to see the rope burn through. "Bastard son of a..." * SPLASH * * blorble * * ploot * hissssss... ------------------------------------------------------------------------- Behind the crates, near the staircase leading down, Elstrek releases his breath slowly. This battle could still go either way. Better be prepared to help things along. On one of the the crates in front of him, he lines up several bottles of aqua regia and a few potion flasks... [ADMIN: Time, isn't it, for the calvalry to arrive?] ------------------------------------------------------------------------- \========C\ Rigler... \\ <===========C ]==|[///////////////////]|==========|[////////////]D> // /========C/ ...Thk --