From: rigler@galileo.ifa.hawaii.edu (Michael A. Rigler)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [KQ] Thk [Factory] MADHOUSE!
Date: 24 Aug 92 04:14:43 GMT
Organization: Institute for Astronomy, Hawaii

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?]

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    \========C\                Rigler...
              \\ 
  <===========C ]==|[///////////////////]|==========|[////////////]D>
              //  
    /========C/                 ...Thk

--
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