HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: masticol@cadenza.rutgers.edu (Steve Masticola)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: [Boffin] Another Brick in the Flaw
Date: 19 Dec 92 20:13:41 GMT
Organization: Rutgers Univ., New Brunswick, N.J.

SCENE: 		A vast, hangar-like room, showing obvious signs of
neglect. Water stains the ceiling; a lightpanel hangs on two of its
four supports, casting garish shadows on a side wall. The thermocrete
floor is covered with cracks, grease, and signs of recent occupancy by
vermin of the four-legged variety. The scene may be found somewhere on
Serendipity; only two of the three occupants know its location in more
detail.

In contrast to its dilapidated structure, the room contains several
neat workbenches, computers, lasers, accelerators, high-vacuum and
cryogenic equipment, warp inducers, and other technical gadgetry of
every possible description. All brand new, all very expensive, all of
the highest quality.  Two full workbenches of it have been assembled, a
bit sloppily, into a Something.

OCCUPANTS:	Two burly human males, dressed in garish,
poorly-fitting business jumpers. A third, smaller human male, in a
worn, rumpled tweed jumper made from genuine sheep hair. All three
cluster around the Something; the smallest of the humans is talking
and gesturing excitedly.

"Gentlemen, to this date, I have done what I was hired to do, and I
must say that I have done it in a satisfactory manner. This," he
indicated the Something, "has demonstrated for your Cartel that the
Flaw does exist, and has also provided crucial data on the entropy
variance. When MaryMary gains access to the Thought Engine, our
contract will be fulfilled, in its entirity. Your Cartel has certain
obligations under that contract..."

"Well, Perfesser, it looks like we re-wrote the contract, don't it?"

"...Certain obligations under contract, and I simply will not tolerate
any more re-writing. My notes are encrypted, and I can destroy them
much more easily than I created them."

"We can destroy a few things too, remember."

Boffin bowed his head. "Yes, Mr. Blue, I remember." His head snapped
up; their eyes locked. "But I happen to posess a sense of ethics, even
if you gentlemen do not. I cannot allow you to create a Flaw device,
and I certainly will not create it for you. I will not be responsible
for the disruption of the Rift."

"Give us a second, Doc. We gotta discuss this." Blue and Yellow moved
away from Boffin, huddling briefly. Boffin strained, but he could hear
nothing.

Blue smiled warmly. "OK, Doc, we come to a decision. I guess you got
us; we can't force you to build it. And if you did, how could we check
it out, anyway?" Boffin flinched as Blue put his hand on his shoulder.
"Hey, listen, Yellow here and I are reasonable kinds of guys, deep
down. So we're gonna relent on you. You don't have to build this
gimmick, not unless you really, _really_ want to.  Hell, we'll even
let you see your little girl!"

Boffin's face brightened.

"A piece at a time."


--
- Steve (masticol@cs.rutgers.edu).
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
From: v124jw4y@ubvmsd.cc.buffalo.edu (Benjamin R Pierce)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: Re: [Red Rain] Re: Intro: Malachi Armageddon
Summary: Armageddon tired of this....
Date: 12 Dec 92 19:20:00 GMT
Organization: University at Buffalo
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41

In article <1992Dec12.040959.15100@netcom.com>, metlay@netcom.com (metlay) writes...


>Lita watched him go, obviously impressed but searching for a suitable 
>retort. Nona scratched her chin thoughtfully. Ree raised an eyebrow.
> 
>"A guitarist who plays the flute, girlfriend?" Nona asked.
> 
>"Pah," Lita finally said disgustedly, going back to the stage.
> 
>Elly looked at Malachi with an odd expression. She walked over to the
>table where he'd sat down, shuffled her feet nervously, and said, 
>"I uh...." She blushed furiously. "I uh...." After a few moments of
>struggling to get past that much, she whirled away and ran to the stage.
>A moment later, she came back, violin in hand, and said, "Can you teach
>me what scale you were using?"
> 
>Lita clapped a hand to her forehead. "Ay, MADRE DE DIOS!"
> 
>Nona grinned at Ree, and the two of them launched into a quiet jazz
>duet, ignoring the drummer's moans. But one or the other of them 
>always kept an eye on Elly, as she sat down at Malachi's table....


Malachi smiles as Elly comes back and shows her the chord run he was using.
"It might be a little hard to duplicate on a string instrument..." he begins,
then trails off as Elly perfectly executes the scale.  "...then again, maybe
not," he finishes.  Smiling inwardly at Elly's skill and joy in music, he
starts to show her different fingerings on the instrument, which he calls a
silmeran, although he is careful to keep it low so as not to interfere with
the band.


                                                       --Ben
From: kellogg@ducvax.auburn.edu
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: Admin: Foxx on vacation
Date: 16 Dec 92 00:30:20 GMT
Organization: Auburn University, AL

Foxx and I are taking a break.
Jake why don't you have him fix up yer throat, and let him go?

Later,

2G Scott
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
From: metlay@netcom.com (metlay)
Subject: [Red Rain] Elly and the Armaguy
Summary: This is LOOOOVE. THIS is LOOOOVE> Would *I* lie to you?
Organization: Atomic City
Date: Mon, 14 Dec 1992 23:40:11 GMT

In article <Bz5v22.88E@acsu.buffalo.edu> v124jw4y@ubvmsd.cc.buffalo.edu (Benjamin R Pierce) writes:
>In article <1992Dec12.040959.15100@netcom.com>, metlay@netcom.com (metlay) writes...

[after Anthony pays his respects to the band]

>>Elly looked at Malachi with an odd expression. She walked over to the
>>table where he'd sat down, shuffled her feet nervously, and said, 
>>"I uh...." She blushed furiously. "I uh...." After a few moments of
>>struggling to get past that much, she whirled away and ran to the stage.
>>A moment later, she came back, violin in hand, and said, "Can you teach
>>me what scale you were using?"
>> 
>Malachi smiles as Elly comes back and shows her the chord run he was using.
>"It might be a little hard to duplicate on a string instrument..." he begins,
>then trails off as Elly perfectly executes the scale.  "...then again, maybe
>not," he finishes.  Smiling inwardly at Elly's skill and joy in music, he
>starts to show her different fingerings on the instrument, which he calls a
>silmeran, although he is careful to keep it low so as not to interfere with
>the band.

Elly looks like she's going to melt. After Nona and Ree finish their 
number, she launches into an extended improvisation in the silmeran's
tuning, and Malachi is hard-pressed to keep up. The music is sweet
and vaguely classical in nature, and draws the appreciative attention
of several patrons, including Anthony and the three ladies on stage,
who sip at cold drinks and listen with proud smiles.

"That's our girl," Lita whispers.

"Not a girl for much longer, girlfriend," Nona says, biting her lower
lip. "And not ours for long after that...."

Ree is silent as she turns away, suddenly intent on tuning her bass.




-- 
metlay            |
atomic city       | "If he talks to you, punch him. I'll catch the baby."
                  | 
metlay@netcom.com |                                           (k. geisel)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
From: metlay@netcom.com (metlay)
Subject: ['Kaena] Garbage Cleanup
Summary: Sorry for the mess.
Organization: Atomic City
Date: Wed, 16 Dec 1992 21:46:42 GMT


The classical duet for winds and strings is rudely interrupted by the
door being flung open, and a human staggering inside. Locals recognize
him immediately as Jeffri Chao, a strong-arm artist for the Monkey Tong.

Jeffri masses about 110 kilos and stands about 2 meters tall. His job
is breaking limbs of people who (a) owe the Tong money (b) welsh on 
agreements with the Tong (c) cross Tong officers or are disrespectful
to the Tong's upper echelons (d) the Tong wants harmed. His main hobby
is breaking limbs of people who (a) owe the Tong money (b) welsh on 
agreements with the Tong (c) cross Tong officers or are disrespectful
to the Tong's upper echelons (d) the Tong wants harmed. He is usually
heavily armed with anything from a vibe-shiv to a plasmacutter, and 
wears powered armor for extra oomph in doing his job. Since hiring him
a year ago, the protection rackets within the Tong have done very well.

Jeffri is covered in mud and blood, is limping, and has both hands 
clutched firmly over his midsection. His powered armor looks like it
was removed with a rusty can opener, and is so badly wrecked that the
guard-drone doesn't even register it as a cyber-enhancement. He appears
to be unarmed, and is looking around the bar frantically, his one good
eye staring maniacally around him, the other purpled and swollen shut.

"Please," he gasps in the sudden silence. "Please. Mas? Harry? ANYBODY?
You gotta hide me! You GOTTA HIDE ME!" He doubles over and starts to 
cough, bringing up blood and bile. With an effort, he gets control of
himself, and tries to continue, though he drops to one knee weakly.
"Anybody! ANYBODY! PLEASE! I'LL PAY YOU! THE TONG WILL PAY YOU!" He
coughs again, and manages a feeble laugh. "I know some of you might 
have had some, y'know, disagreements, with me before, but we can clear
all that up! I got money! LOTS of money! I just need someone to hide m--"

The door opens behind him, and 'Kaena walks in. 

Jeffri looks over his shoulder and begins to cry. "Please....please...."

'Kaena, without preamble, walks over to Jeffri, and lays a gentle hand
on his head. "Jeffri," he whines softly, "You KNOW we can't finish our
talk in here. Mas won't let us. Now please cooperate...." And with
that, he takes a fistful of the big man's hair and drags him
backwards, screaming, through the door. There is one last shriek from
outside, rising to an impossible pitch and cutting off abruptly.

Then silence.

-- 
metlay            |
atomic city       | "If he talks to you, punch him. I'll catch the baby."
                  | 
metlay@netcom.com |                                           (k. geisel)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
From: jpesonen@viikki.Helsinki.FI (JORMA JUHANI PESONEN (EKT))
Subject: Leeson and Vladimir go to holliday...
Organization: University of Helsinki, Fac.Agric.For.
Date: Tue, 15 Dec 1992 10:02:49 GMT


Well it's time again for all good children to go home, so I'll be off from 
the Net for a some time, actually till the mid January.
KEEP FAITH!

	Jozma	:)

    JPESONEN@viikki.helsinki.fi  ///
                                ///   "Is all that we see or seem,
    There are realities        ///     But a Dream within a Dream?"
    Within realities, but     ///      Edgar Allan Poe
                     THERE ARE NO ABSOLUTES
From: dshaffer@andromeda.rutgers.edu (Donald A Shaffer)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: mas and PW going on vacation
Date: 12 Dec 92 20:02:24 GMT
Organization: Rutgers Univ., New Brunswick, N.J.

Ok, I ned to hre someone to take over the bar while mas is on vacation [I'm
home for thholidays with no news access :(] soone want to volunteer. 

Don Shaffer AKA Mas Hasterson
 ps: post it
From: blackburn-dean@yale.edu (Dean Blackburn)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.havens-rest
Subject: [Sniff]: intro, part III
Date: 12 Dec 1992 03:01:47 -0500
Organization: Yale University, Flood Haven, CT
NNTP-Posting-Host: minerva.cis.yale.edu

 
     A boy sat in Haven's Rest, waiting impatiently to even be noticed, let
alone served. At the entrance of the slime creature, he was jarred somehow. The
creature, though wholly unfamiliar, brought back an image... A strange memory
of his past. Clouded visions past before his closed eyes, but he could make
nothing of them. He looked at himself, and then his surroundings as if for the
first time. He had been bleeding. He was dirty, and felt completely exhausted.
He was in a bar, a place full of strangers. Panicked with momentary
disorientation, he thrust his arms about, searching for... for the Core! As he
tumbled back off his stool, memories began to flood back into him. The Core had
brought him back again, though for what reason he could not determine. He tried
to remember his previous death, but came up nothing. He concentrated harder,
but could not recall the point at which his life had ended. Hitting the floor
jarred him back to reality, and the piercing stares of his fellow patrons
reminded him where he was.
 
    "Haven's Rest. Again. At least I'm still here."
 
Sitting up, he finally saw the Core unit. It sat there, patiently waiting for
him to die. His confused expression transforming into a beaming smile, he slid
back up onto his stool and called Mas over in his less-than-booming
pre-pubescent voice.
 
    "Mas, I said milk! And if it's not here in three seconds my boys will..."
 
The boy paused slightly, and re-examined himself. Whatever had happened to his
old self, it was gone. It was time for someone new... By the tag on his
sweatshirt, someone named 'Sniffendod'. 
 
    "Um... Could I please have a glass of milk, sir?"
 
A quick shake of the hips told him he was coinless.
 
    "I have this... watch. It's not much, but..."
 
The eyes. He had to use the eyes. And the bottom lip. Lips were so useful to
have. 

   Mr. Hasterson grumbled slightly, but could not resist the puppy-like
stare... Besides, he thought, the boy might be a runaway. Best to keep him
around while he checked with Missing Sentients, or some day he might end up
like the rest of the flotsam in the Rest.
 
    "Keep the watch, kid. This one's on me."  
-- 
  
 -<blkburn@minerva.cis.yale.edu PO box 817 New Haven, CT 06520-0817>-
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: jcarl@jabba.ess.harris.com (Joe Carl Jr.)
Subject: [Ga] Queer looks and on the road to ???
Organization: Harris Corporation - ISD
Date: Wed, 16 Dec 1992 21:05:48 GMT


>"Come.  We must be going."

The others got up from the table, and started to follow Khisanth out of the
inn.  Alaric gave Mathew a long stare before he rolled up the map and left
too.  Mathew pulled his fathers locket out from under his tunic and looked
at it with longing eyes.  "Well dad, I hope your looking after me, cause I
certainly don't know what I've gotten my self into here".

He replaced the locket and turned to leave too, the others where in the
stables getting their horses ready.  His horse Judge was just out front, a
gorgeous light grey stallion with his left foot coal black, and his right
pure white.  Judge was already for the road, seeing as how Mathew had come
into the inn in such a hurry.

Mathew saw the stable boy walk around the corner.  "Sorry to bother you, but
you can call off the guards they won't be needed after all."

The stable boy looked at him queerly.

"They weren't the ones responsible for the farmers deaths, we'll be tracking
down the culprit together.  Could you do me a favor too, and not mention
this to anyone"

The stable boy arched an eyebrow and gave the sign that warded off evil
spirits, and continued on towards the stable.

Just then the others came out of the stables with their horses.  Phillipe
was riding the mare with the split hoof.

"Your going to have to get your horse re-shoed soon or it's going throw
one."
--
Joe Carl Jr.               "It ain't what a man don't know that makes him a
jcarl@jabba.ess.harris.com   fool, but what he does know that ain't so."
                                                           -- Josh Billings
From: vaughan8670@iscsvax.uni.edu
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [R] questions...
Date: 11 Dec 92 22:11:03 -0600
Organization: University of Northern Iowa

Radan was deep in thought, it was strange, the voyage seemed to almost be
over, and he felt terribly alone now.  He hadn't seen anyone from the group,
when, Karl, with a sort of confused look on his face came up to him.

"Karl, how are you doing this morning?  You seemed to be a little involved in
thought this morning.  Are you ok?" Radan waited for an answer, and Karl sat
down.

"Yes, I am functioning fine, thank you."  Karl answered.

"Well, it's been an interesting time hasn't it?  Oh say, I wanted to ask you
about what is going to happen to everyone now that we are about to get home?
There is something else I will get into now too, I am in need of somewhere to
set up a shop in Generica, would you know where I could do that?" Radan was
excited, he could hardly wait until they reached Generica.

"Generica, foriegn location, I do not know where a suitable place to acquire
lodging and "setting" up a shop there.  My name is Karl?" Answered the man.

"Yes, well, I was just wondering, since you have lived there for so long,"
Radan was so into what he wanted to accomplish as far as his ceramics and herb
shop, that he didn't notice that "Karl" didn't seem to realize who he was, or
where Generica was for that matter.  "That's ok I can always go to the Dragons
Inn and see what I can muster up for information on a good location to do my
work.  You know Karl, your voice sounds a little different lately, are you
coming down with a cold?"

The man looked at Radan and replied,"No, I have not been infected with any
diseases lately, Thank you.  I must be going now.  I have something to do..."
The man left the table, and muttered to himself, "I am karl, residence
Generica, unknown duration...."
Radan wanted to ask more questions, but was unable to.

Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie (Mithrandir)
Subject: [KQ][TGMOAB 7.x] Silken- Questions and answers.
Organization: Trinity College, Dublin
Date: Fri, 18 Dec 1992 16:51:37 GMT


>  Rhoan stepped back, keeping his sword at the elf's throat.

> <<FormStasisField, lock_balances>> - A very useful trick, he'd learned
>it from Lord Raven and his crew, on the receiving end.  For a while it
>would keep the creature from shapechanging or doing anything of that sort.
>Would also keep it from berserking, for a while.  He touched it gently
>with one rock-hard hand.

>"So you are Silken.  Wake up.  You've got some explaining to do."

>The crystal rune of Truth rested on the ceiling between them.

   Silken sat up slowly. His hands went his face, feeling his features.
 His claws had retracted, and his teeth also. His clothes, grey silk,
were not looking the best at all. Sort of shredded. He numbly went over
things in his mind. He definitely looked badly shaken, his skin having
taken on a waxy palor, and he was shaking despite the warm night.
  His mind felt like a battleground, never mind the rest of him.
  Looking around he saw Rhoan still holding his sword up. There was also
a blonde-haired ... person. Dressed in some of the oddest clothes Silken
had ever seen. Memory thus far eluded him as to who this person might
be. Silken's mind reached out.
  Wham!
 What the ?
 He reeled backwards. There was something in the way. Magical, no doubt.
Silken had little or no energy left for this sort of carry-on.
  He sat up slowly, holding his head in both hands.
  Raelf had his hands on some crystaline thing. He was looking dirty,
yet refreshed, as though he'd rested a few hours on a beach. He was also
looking for answers.
   Kron.
  Suddenly Silken's mind became more fully aware.
  "Where is Kron? Gods above, will he live? Please, stranger, you must
tell me!!"

   Silken's gaze shifted from side to side, looking for the former
guardsman with a sense of fear for his friend's life.

  Silken looked at 'Raelf's face. His mind reached out again, but this
time with more common sense. He felt 'Raelf's answers that might have
been coming. Kron would live, but he very badly beat up. Also, he
learned 'Raelf's name.
  "'Raelf?" he said, attempting to pronounce the apostrophe.



--
 Haggis: Haggis is a black pudding eaten by the Scots and considered not
only a delicacy, but fit for human consumtion.The minced heart, liver
and lungs of a sheep are mixed with oatmeal and boiled in the sheep's
stomach before ...Excuse me a minute... [Mithrandir/tkelly@unix2.tcd.ie]
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: johnf@apollo.hp.com (John Francis)
Subject: Re: Saphire: Well... alright... here goes.
Date: Tue, 15 Dec 1992 23:40:09 GMT
Organization: Hewlett-Packard Corporation, Chelmsford, MA

In article <1992Dec15.223501.27641@cheshire.oxy.edu> wolf@cheshire.oxy.edu (Clinton Richard Wolf) writes:
>In article <92350.130311344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> Michael Sander <344LWKC@CMUVM.CSV.CMICH.EDU> writes:
>>
>>"It is nice to meet you, Saph." the red-haired man announces. "My name is
>>Lancos Erredan." His gaze shifts to the other man. "And you're ... Lucas,
>>right? It's been a while, but it's not hard remembering someone whose name
>>so resembles my own." A deep grin crosses his face on these last words.
>>
>>"As I recall, you were looking for a 'mother'. Did you have any success?"
>>Lancos finishes, waiting for a reply from either of his new tablemates.
>>
> Lucas nods. "Yes, I found her. Or rather, . . . . most people tire of my
>company within minutes,  . . . babble endlessly . . . . boring . . .
> "You'll forgive me. I'm not used to talking so much. I think I've strained
>something..." Lucas slumps back and stares morosely at Saphire . . . .

Felix (anyone here remember Felix?  It's been ages since I last posted)
surveys the occupants of the table as he walks past it on his way to the bar.

"You've lost a little weight, I see" he comments to Serene as she passes him
a Catamount Amber "but your memory for a drink is just as good as ever".
He then turns back towards the table and nods towards the occupants.
""Father, . . .,  Sir Knight, . .,  Milady  - is the imp with you tonight?" 
-- 
John Francis                                 johnf@apollo.hp.com
with 9 cats to feed, I don't have time to think up a clever .sig
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan)
Subject: Re: [R] Artifice continues to put two and two together...
Reply-To: djb6@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: City of Generica, Office of the Quartermaster
Date: Sun, 13 Dec 1992 07:08:21 GMT

Artifice gleaned a fact or two from his brief discourse with Radan.  Already
he had learned that his name was to be "Karl", that he resided in a place
known as "Generica", and that the duration of his residence in this place
had been long.  Had he the capacity for satisfaction, he might have been
pleased with these discoveries.  

But Artifice, in his mechanical, rational way, could never be content
with the accomplishment of a single task but continually sought to 
fulfill his great purpose.

And what was Artifice's 'Great Purpose?'  Well, for the time being, his
purpose would be to define his purpose.  Once again, his memory banks
had been erased and he would have to reconstruct his programming.
In his previous incarnation, he had been an assassin in the employ of
the Shaheran of Rameshan and his purpose was to acquire wealth and power.
Before that, his purpose was to serve the interests of and generate 
profit for the United Pan-Galactic Mining and Chemical Corporation.
Before that, probably something else.  Artifice was old, as androids go.

He returned to the deck in time for the docking of the _Arcas_.  Crewmembers
and dock workers called to one another in preparation for docking.  Artifice
observed the commotion and bustle, filing each sight and utterance in
his memorybanks.  

By inference, he guessed that this place of great crowds and commerce was
Generica.  Following the lead of a number of other passengers, he disembarked
over a short gangway.  He was on a kind of boardwalk running somewhat
north to south.  On one side there were many piers to which ships were
moored.  On the other, crates and barrels of various sizes were stacked
next to the clapboard walls of warehouses.  Artifice could not determine
a particular native dress or appearance; there was far too much variation.
Had he been more familiar with the Known Lands, Artifice might have 
recognized the tall, ebon-skinned Camequevans, the haughty Ydoinais, robust
Alasyrians, swarthy Rameshanders, mysterious Easterners, and even the
occasional Draga or Lizard man.  Artifice's sensitive ears registered a
cacophany of dialects and obscure tongues.  Surely, if he had wanted a 
crash course in the Known Lands and the variety of its cultures and peoples,
he had come to the right place.



-- 
Dennis Brennan
djb6@midway.uchicago.edu