From: ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu (The Dreamer)
Date: 24 Jun 93 20:04:06 GMT
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [MG] Strangeness Abounds (Luthor and Erik)

Scene: The Elven Quarter.  Outside a house/tree, a golden-skinned man
       in a purple shirt and black pants is going through a series of
       stretching exercises.
Time:  Just past dawn.

Luthor felt great.  Usually, the stretching caused him a small amount
of pain, but since 'Raelf re-shaped his body, he found that the pain had
been erased completely.  Luthor felt a hundred years younger and full of
energy.

A whisp of fog drifted toward him lazily.  He spoke to it (a habit that he
had picked up from Serene, his companion).  "Hello little one."

The whisp responded by swirling.  It reshaped itself into the form of
a whirlwind: Erik's sigil.  Wasting no time, Luthor grabbed his BLACK
cloak from its resting place on the ground and jogged back to the house.
He opened the door and walked to the back of the library.  Once there,
he opened another door and entered the laboratory.

"Erik, what's the matter?  I saw the whips you sent - "

Erik sat in front of a miniaturized model of Generica.  Every detail of
the city was represented, from to the shanties of the Low City to the
strange shadows of the Shunned Center.  Over the city's model floated
a red haze that rippled and bobbed like the surface of a lake.  It was
mostly flat except for three places.

"I finally got the model working early last night.  After I helped you
and 'Raelf out at the inn, I came back to find it like this.  I thought
the readings were off, so I spent all night fine-tuning it.  The more I
worked on it, the more severe the readings became.  Look..." Erik said
pointing to the three locations where the red haze dipped and became
different colors.  He pointed to the first one.  It was directly above
their current location, yellow in color.

"This probability flux was created by us.  It's showing the effects of
the Kinnessee Anit-Teleportation Field in the basement."  He moved to the
next mark, a larger but more shallow depression in the haze that was above
the Shunned Center.  It was orange in color.  "This one is caused by
something in or near the Center.  I think it was made by the Shun Runners
subconsciously so they don't get caught by Creepy Charlie; sort of a
group-wish or something."

Luthor looked at the last depression.  It the smallest, but most severe.
It seemed to plunge from the haze straight down into the model itself.
It gave off a hue of deep purple.  "What about that one?"

"That's the one I'm worried about.  Something big is going to happen
there.  Something that is very risky and has an equal chance of coming
out very good or very bad.  It seems to be inside the Spitting
Cobra," Erik said pointing to a tiny tavern in the model.

"Should we go take a look?" Luthor asked still staring at the depression.
It reminded him of a whirlpool...something was going to be putting a huge
pull on Generica's probability field in the near future.

"I think we have to.  From the look of that drain, there's a lot at stake."

Without further discussion, the two ShadowMakers left the Elven Quarter
and headed south, to the Low City.
-----

It was a slow day in the Cobra.  Sugob had a few days off leaving Trawm the
ugly task of cleaning up from the previous night's party.  As the Half-Troll
swept a dismembered hand into the dustbin, he reminisced about the good ole
days, when people crowded his bar to see the fights for which his tavern
was famous.

The memory brought an old Orcish drinking song to his lips.  As he worked,
began singing the song.  His voice was so lacking in tune that the sewer
rats cringed and the t-crocs howled in pain:

Hammer in one hand,
Chieftan to de right,
Over da hills we go,
Dere'll be blood tonight! (Ha Ha Ha)

Dem Elves are all wrong,
Sword and axe make right,
Oh what fun it is to sing dis slayin' song tonight!

Oh kill da Elves,
Kill da Elves,
Bash them 'til dey're dead,
Oh what fun it is to yell,
And fill dem full of dread!

Oh -

"TRAWM!" Luthor yelled holding his ears and grimacing.

"Sorry.  I don't really hate yinz elfs, it just bring back da good fights
I had when I were a pup."  Trawm wiped a tear from his brown eye, then from
his green one.  He picked up his mop and blew his misshapen nose into the
blackened strands of the greasy cloth.  "Now, what can I get for ya."

Erik entered the inn. "I didn't see anything unusual outside, maybe
the model WAS wrong."

Luthor reached into his BLACK cloak and pulled out deck of cards.  He began
shuffling them.  Then, after they were sufficiently mixed up, he began
turning them over, one at a time:
Ace of Clubs
Two of Clubs
Three of Clubs
...

He scanned through the deck and found them all in order.  Trawm craned
his neck to see what was happening.

"Okay elfie-boy.  Neat trick.  Now, if you ain't gonna buy nuthin' den
I got work to do."  He picked up some dishes and carried them toward
the kitchen.

Luthor ignored him, "This is the right place."  He looked around.  "I don't
see anything unusual that could be causing something this big though.  Do
you think it's a natural occurrence?"

"Nope.  Mix-up the cards again to be sure."

Luthor shuffled once.  The order was the same as before.

A short shout and the sound of breaking dishes came from the kitchen.  Luthor
jumped over the counter and looked through the kitchen door.  He was sure
that he had found the cause of their problem.  There, in the kitchen, was
Trawm staring at a point in space that seemed to ripple and shimmer like
heat rising off the Plaza of Glittering Steel.  The rippling effect was
spherical, about the size of a large mellon.  From it came a distinctive
noise.  Something between the hiss of a snake and wind blowing through
summer trees.

Three feet below it, on the kitchen floor, was the scattered remains of
Trawm's broken dishes.  All of the fragments stood on end in a perfect
circle beneath the shpere.  The probability of the fragments landing in
those positions was infinitesimal.

Depsite three pairs of eyes looking around the room, a certain blond
surfer-dude in the corner went amazingly unnoticed.  His presence amidst
this warp in space-time was of no concern to them.  He was someone
else's problem.

Luthor turned to look back at Erik, who had joined him in the doorway.
"This sphere's unlike anything I've ever seen.  What is it?"

"I don't know." The constant undulation of the sphere was almost as
intriguing as its probability altering properties to the two Shades.

Trawm looked over toward the watching pair with a twisted expression
on his more-twisted face.  He began to scream.

     Love and Peace and Medics,
           -The Dreamer-