Friday, January 23, 2004

   dragonssss!
Thank you all new friends for coming here, and all teh reletively old people!!

Yes, I do love Dragonlace so!! You have inspired me to copy this down here!
The old dwarf lay dying. His limbs would no longer support him. His bowels and stomach twisted together like snakes. Waves of nausea broke over him. He could not even raise his head from his bunk. He stared above him at an oil lamp swinging slowly overhead. The lamp's light seemed to be getting dimmer. This is it, though the dwarf. The End. The darkness is creeping over my eyes...
He heard a noise near him, a creaking of wooden planks as if someone were very quietly stealing up on him. Feebly, Flint managed to to turn his head.
"Who is it?" he croaked.
"Tasslehoff" whispered a solicitous voice. Flint sighed and reached out a gnarled hand. Tas's hand closed over his own.
"Ah, lad. I'm glad you've come in time to say farewell." said the dwarf weakly. "I'm dying, lad, I'm going to Reorx--"
"What?" asked Tas, leaning closer.
"Reorx," repeated the dwarf irratably. "I'm going to the arms of Reorx."
"No we're not," said Tas, "We're going to Sancrist. Unless you mean an inn. I'll ask Sturm, The Reorx Arms, hmm--"
"Reorx the god of the dwarves, you doorknob!" Flint roared.
"Oh," said Tas after a moment. "That Reorx."
"Listen, lad," Flint said more calmly, determined to leave no hard feelings behind. "I want you to have my helm. The one you brought me in Xak Tsaroth, with the griffin's mane."
"Do you really?"Tas asked impressed. "That's awwfully nice of you, Flint, but what will you do for a helm?"
"Ah, lad, I won't need a helm where I'm going."
"You might in Sancrist," Tas said dubiously. "Derek thinks the Dragon Highlords are preparing to launch a full-scale attack, and I think a helm could come in handy-"
"I'm not talking about Sancrist," Flint snarled, struggleing to sit up. "I won't need a helm because I'm dying!"
"I nearly died once," Tas said solemnly. Setting a steaming bowl on a table, he settled back comfortably in a chair to relate his story. "It was the time in Tarsis when the dragon knocked the building down on top of me. Elistan said I was nearly a goner. Actually those weren't his exact words, but he sadi it was only through the inter…interces…oh well, inter-something-or-other of the gods that I'm here today."
Flint gave a mighty groan and fell back limply on his bunk. "Is it too much to ask," he said to the lamp swinging above his heaad, "that I be allowed to die in peace? Not surrounded by kenders!"
This last was practicly a shriek.
"Oh, come now. You're not dying, you know," Tas said, "You're only seasick."
"I'm dying," the dwarf said stubbornly. "I've been infected with a serious disease and now I'm dying. And on your heads be it. You dragged me onto this confounded boat-"
"Ship," interupted Tas.
"Boat!" repeated Flint furiously. "You dragged me onto this confounded boat, then left me to perish of some terrible disease in a rat infested bedroom-"
"We could have left you back in Icewall, you know, with the walrus-men and-" Tasslehoff stopped.
Flint was once again struggling to sit up, but this time there was a wild look in his eyes. The kender rose to his feet and began edging his way toward the door. "Uh, I guess I better be going. I just came down here to-uh-see if you wanted anything to eat. The ship's cook made something he calls green pea soup-"

Laurana, huddled out of the wind on the foredeck, started as ahe heard the most frightful roaring sound come from below decks, followed by the cracking of smashed crockery. She glanced at Sturm, who was standing near her. The knight smiled. "Flint," he said.
"Yes," Laurana said, worried. "Perhaps I should-"
She was interupted by the appearance of Tasslehoff dripping with green pea soup.
"I think Flint's feeling better," Tasslehoff said solemnly. "But he's not quite ready to eat anything yet."

Garr, I have all my quizzes I've done over teh last week saved on the other computer, I need to pu tsome pretty pictures here, haven't had some in a bit.
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