(Untitled)

June 23 1998

The Probe

A new, unfamiliar sky greets me
As I leave the nexus
Abandoning the bright, protective shelter
And the companionship of my peers,
I pierce the gloom of unknown dangers
Devouring darkness with ferocious zeal
I clear a path for those who follow.

For Aiur I create:
First the matrix then the base
Surround it with cannons
The foundation is set.
Who would imagine
What one left alone can accomplish?

I am a creator, a gatherer, a seeker, a destroyer
I can do nothing or everything
And some may never know of it
Though my work is on display;
Still, a mere peon that I am,
I am content, knowing that I have created
A masterpiece.

Xi (09/20/98)

.........................(Untitled)

Sky rainbows towering monuments of color
arcing overhead,
A humble tribute to a wrath of clouds;
Like the swirling patterns on polished wood
Whose unseen energy fires the fury of my spells,
Beneath the town where darkness reigns;
Like the heart-born thrill from a battle well fought
Amidst friends who move in sync:
A marvelous ballet of instinct and innovation;
Serves to remind us that the things we cannot own
Are the things we keep the longest.
Xi
06/13/98

Master Zen vs. }ArchXAngel{ --- Round 1

*ding*

After trying to run the server at both my castle and his, with little success ping-wise...both participants agreed to a common server. Netplex was to
be the battleground. Averaging a 250 ping, borderline acceptable thanx to Ver. 3.15, the
combatants dropped onto the field. With 14 murderous fools already hyped for battle, there was little time to waste. Before me lay the Super-Shotgun...}AXA{'s preferred weapon of choice. I scooped it up and started the rampage. Zen had already wasted 4 of the dogs by the time I got my first shot. Taking it...blood splattered and my foe flew feet up onto his back. Close range super-shotgun is unstoppable.

I crept around the corners, sliding to and fro in search of the next victim. I found her weakly blasting in the distance. I broke into a trot, leaping directly into her line of fire...I wasted her like she deserved, then, turning in my crouch, I tore into her intended with ease...shrill screaming as the buckshot tore him open. I had found the zone...now we fight. Taking a glance at the stats, Master Zen was hot. He was dropping them like flies, easily outgunning me - his frag count rose. Everywhere lay the carnage of the dead. Many a time did I take attacks and even hit the floor on several occassion...but to no avail - I could not be contained. Slowly I gained on the Master. Our paths may have crossed twice or three times...maybe more. Too much action to read who was dying - there were more to be killed. Time was running out. Zen still led. I happened across a rocket launcher - then the elusive Quad! - grabbing them I unleashed the fury of an Angel gone mad.

I lept off of my perch into a room crazed with blaster fire. First one, then another fell under by relentless onslaught. I kept pumping my rockets till all laid slain at my feet. Wiping the blood from my eyes, I waded throught the twisted bodies to find a health-pack...God knows I needed it. No luck, the time-limit had been hit. Looking with suprise at the scores....I had outgunned the Master 25 to 24 kills. Truly the best fight of my career as a hunter. I look forward to our next savage encounter, almighty Master Zen.
}AXA{

Night Below

Chapter 1

I walked through Tristram's market square, cunningly nicknamed the Trading Post, on my way to Ogden's Tavern. I occassionally drop by the Tavern (or Dive, as some of my friends have christened it) to catch up on all the bickering, and, occassionaly, storytelling. This night, however, I had a more serious purpose in going there. My compatriots were holding a meeting, and I had a proposition for them.

I was just leaving the outskirts of the Post when I happened to pass Hairy. Hairy, along with Woody, had started a group of Sorcerors who eschewed everything but cursed items. Beyond Naked Mages, I thought to myself. Sheesh, they could have at least thought of a more original name. I swear, I will never understand how Sorcerors think.

However, I felt an obligation to needle Hairy, and, indirectly, Woody. "Hey, Hairy, how's Woody enjoying that Clumsy Longbow of the Pit I gave him? I hope it hasn't gotten him killed yet." Hairy's only reply was a noncommital grunt, so I guess my remark hit home. He continued on towards the Post, as I made my way into the Town Square.

I was in the Town Square now, where many voices could be heard. Most were concentrated in one corner, which was roped off and had a signpost, labeled Newbies Only. Strangely enough, I could see many adventurers there in high-quality equipment. Plate armour, war bows, the works. As I watched, a Warrior in full plate, weilding a staff, pulled a seemingly unlimited amount of equipment from his backpack, and began distributing it to the howling newbies. I hated seeing this, this sorcery of the darkest kind. Although there was not much I could do about it, I realized that most of the newbies would soon recognise their folly, as I had, so long ago.

Suddenly I was struck by a wave of vertigo. Had it been that long ago that I had first made my way into this little town I now called home? So long ago that I barely remembered my first excursion into the ruined cathedral? That I couldn't remember the names of the kind souls who had helped me to learn the ropes of the dungeon beneath Tristram?

It had been.

Feeling light-headed, I made my way to the water fountain in the middle of town and sat on its edge, careful not to get my equipment wet. Rust is such a pain. While I was splashing water on my face, I felt a presence behind me. "Hello," I said, "and you are?"

He laughed lightly. "I know the feeling. I'm getting too old for romping around in the dungeon, myself. Everyone has to deal with it in their own way, but always remember this: 'Stay stoked'."

I didn't really know what he meant by that, but he obviously meant well, so I nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks, I will. You going to be at the meeting?" I didn't really expect him to be, but I had to ask.

Once again I began making my way toward the Tavern. This time I made it there without any more difficulties. I stopped at the entrance, squared my shoulders, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door before I could change my mind.

Night Below

Chapter 2

As I stepped into the tavern I was hit by a wall of noise. I stopped just inside the doorway, to give my eyes time to adjust to the lighting, which was comparably darker inside than out, as well as to take stock of Ogden's current clientele.

As usual, most of the patrons sat together in small groups, although here and there several tables had been pushed together, or a large group had appropriated a longtable. There were representatives of every guild I knew of, and quite a few that I did not know of, seated at various places inside the tavern.

An argument in one corner drew my atention. One man sat across a table from twelve others, and their shouts were drowning out most of the other conversations in that area. On closer inspection I recognised the lone figure. It was TheMan! I smiled. A visit to Ogden's wouldn't be the same without TheMan starting an argument. It may be nicer, but it wouldn't be the same. I leaned against a wall for a couple of minutes and tried to follow the "discussion." Apparently the twelve were alternately insulting him, his parental lineage, and anything else that came to mind, and he was throwing them right back. I smiled again as someone called him "TheBoy." I didn't think either side was going to make any progress, but it was still funny.

Again allowing my gaze to roam, I noticed a small knot of Snakegod and Tarot members sitting together. Among them were Salmissra, Lok, Zamp, Strech, nIGHT, and several others I did not immediately recognise. Making eye contact with Strech, I slowly nodded.

I had once given him a magical amulet, which increased one's resistance to hostile magics while absorbing some of the force of physical blows. He had later alerted me to the fact that it had been magically duplicated. After that fiasco I never dealt with the trader I had gotten it from again, but I still feel shamed. I wanted Strech to know that, if ever there was anything he needed of me, I would oblige him.

As he returned the nod, I knew he had gotten my message. Although we may not be as wise to the ways of the Art as our sorcerous brethren, we do seem to have a "sixth sense", if you will. He knew that I regretted what had happened, and that I would strive to redeem myself.

I stepped away from the wall. I had spent too much time already; I had to join my guildmates. Spotting them seated at the other end of the tavern, I began to thread my way between tables, occasionally jostling someone.

I cursed myself. I had unwittingly stumbled into a nest of Brittanians. What they were doing in Tristram is anyone's guess, but I really wish they wouldn't take up valuable space in Ogden's. Just then a particularly big and burly guy stood up, backing into me.

It was at times like this that I regretted the fact that Ogden insisted that peaceknots be tied over the hilt of every blade. Nothing would have pleased me more at the moment than seeing what color _his_ belly was. However, I realized that if I drew my blade, everyone else in the tavern would draw theirs, and I would be the instigator of a bloodbath. I also noticed several of my guildmates standing, to come to my aid if I needed it. I waved them back. I could handle the situation; and besides, Ogden has been known to charge hefty fees for furniture broken in brawls.

I turned back to Burly (as I had named him), and gave him another smile, which did not reach my eyes. "Perhaps, _friend_," I said, "you could let me be on my way. I had no intention of jostling you, and I don't think Ogden is in the mood for a fight." He seemed to mull it over; evidently he had been drinking more than a little.

Then he shook his head and drew his other arm back. "No, you pushed me and now I'm gonna teach you some manners!" His fist shot toward my face. I thrust my hand up, pushing his punch aside, then wrapped my arm around his, locking his elbow, and gave him an open-hand strike to the shoulder.

There was a loud "Pop!" and he stumbled back, clutching his arm to his side. "It's dislocated," I said, "Have Pepin fix it up for you. And while you're there, get him to sober you up." By this time his friends had stood up, and looked about ready to rush me, until I gazed their way. Then they scattered like Fallen Ones.

As I once again began making my way toward the table my guildmates sat at, I noticed Ogden out of the corner of my eye. He seemed to be gesturing to me. Heading towards the bar, I greeted him. "How's business lately, Ogden?" "Oh, it hasn't been bad," he said, "and thank you for persuading those goons to leave, they were scaring off some of my customers." He set a mug of ale down in front of me. "On the house. For preventing a brawl."

And ran straight into a drunkard. "You all will be destroyed! I will destroy all of you! I will destroy the Angels of Hell!" he rambled. It took me several seconds to realize who this was. When finally I did, I couldn't speak for several seconds. It was Maluttr. The man who, for reasons unkown to me, had decided to singlehandedly destroy my guild. At any other time I would have eagerly suggested to him that we "step outside", but seeing him dressed in rags and stinking of spirits, I couldn't bring myself to. [Oh, how the mighty have fallen], I thought.

Giving Maluttr a shove towards the bar, I said, "Ogden, can you help Mal here find his way out of the tavern? I'm afraid he's in no condition to find it for himself." He took one look at the drunkard, and grimaced. "Sure, War, I don't know who let him in here anyway." With a gesture to a couple of bouncers, Ogden set Maluttr on his way out.

Again setting out towards the table my friends had appropriated, I began to wonder. On the way to Ogden's I had been stopped several times, and again, inside the tavern, I had had several more setbacks. Although some people may have considered them no more than coincidences, I did not. I began to fear that I was being manipulated, but by what power I did not know.

As I neared the table, I realized that only a few of my guildmates were present. There were several others, but they would not do. It appeared that my plan was doomed from the start.

Although the table could easily seat twenty, only a handful of people sat or stood around it. Seated at the head of the table, as benefitting his rank as Guildmaster, was DarkSniper. The only other Angels present were Boots, BOSTIC, and Sprite_II. The-Mule, DALLAK, and [ADH]Kim stood about, engaged in various activities.

Before stepping up to the table, I stopped to assess each individual. DarkSniper, Boots, DALLAK, and Kim were all bowmen. They were all crack shots with bows, and knew a little more of the Art than I did. Although none of them were as physically powerful as I was, I had learned to respect bows.

BOSTIC, The-Mule, and Sprite_II were Sorcerors. BOSTIC was a small figure, hunched under the heavy armour he wore. He was the last person I would imagine being able to wear plate armour, but looks can deceive. The-Mule, on the other hand, was a large, powerfully built man, who wore his armour with almost as little strain as I wore mine. I had only known him a short while, but I already respected and trusted him.

Sprite_II was a tall, gangling youth. He could not have seen more than twenty winters. He was the son of one of my original companions. Sprite had been a Warrior, and a good one at that. Although he had never been as large or strong as me, he was fast, nimble, and knew where a blade would do the most damage. His son, in contrast, was a student of the Art, but not an especially good one. He meant well, but he often got his incantations wrong, and his aim with his favorite spell, Fireball, was legendarily bad.

Coming back to my senses, I realized just how bad my situation was. Although they all were experienced adventurers, where I would be taking them I needed Warriors more than anything else.

I found myself wishing that Victoor or BallBasher could have made it, but then cast those thoughts out of my mind, reminding myself that wishful thinking would not help.

Finally stepping up to the table, I greeted each of them.

And then, from BOSTIC, "It's nice to see you again, War, but I believe you called us here for a reason?"

The grim set of my jaw as I acknowledged BOSTIC's remark showed them all just how urgent that reason was. I reached into a pouch at my belt and withdrew a small, pyramidal crystal. "Do you all know what this is?"

I carefully set the crystal upon the table, then addressed them all. "You all know that Stormcrow recently retired. He was getting too old to adventure, he said. But have any of you seen him _anywhere_?"

No one had.

It was a dark room, with the walls seemingly formed of the bones of some large animal. In the center of the room there was an altar. It appeared to be constructed of stone, although it was covered with dried blood, staining it a dark red. Behind the altar stood a robed figure. It was not a daemon, as one would expect, although it's features were certainly demonic. Then the figure turned and gestured to something outside of the scene. Two Steel Lords entered, half-dragging a limp body between them. The body was dressed in a Sorceror's robes, and those robes had Stormcrow's unmistakable crow-over-lightningbolt crest! As the Lords dragged Stormcrow over to the robed figure behind the altar, the scene seemed to zoom in towards the altar, showing all those watching who the robed figure was.

Arch-Bishop Lazarus.

There were sounds of dismay from all those present, except me. I had seen this before and was no longer upset by it. I merely was determined that I would save my friend or die trying.

Lazarus then began speaking. "My Lord, this one has much Power within him, more than almost all the rest your minions have delivered to me. With the power this one releases, I may finally be able to break the mystical bond that traps you within this labyrinth. You will finally be able to wreak death and destruction upon the outside world! In order to extract the most power from this subject, it will be necessary to hold the ritual at the eclipse." It was not hard to tell what kind of ritual he meant; he was fingering a very large and wicked-looking dagger.

I turned back to my companions. "I have checked with Adria. There is going to be an eclipse in two days. If Stormcrow is not rescued within that timeframe, not only will we lose a dear friend, but we may loose an unimaginable scourge unto the world."

I slowly drew my sword and laid it across the table. "Who will go with me to save Stormcrow?"

Chapter 3

to be continued.....