From: albert@bcm.tmc.edu (Rick Jones)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Arrival Marcel Delacroix (outside the Scrappy Ram)
Date: 26 Jul 1992 04:35:01 GMT
Organization: Baylor College of Medicine
Originator: albert@chain.ssctr.bcm.tmc.edu

Outside the Scrappy Ram, ...sage's Servant is about to get sliced by 
by one of the Scissormen.

"Pangolin!  Sartorial Numerals!" <snikt>
"NUMERALS!!" <snippety snippety sn...........

THERE IS A VERY LOUD EXPLOSION.

	The cloud of dust starts spinning around, and strange red and
blue lights spin around as a hole in the air opens where the Scissorman
was standing.  An armored form tumbles out of the hole.  
	He rolls and quickly regains his footing.  "Quoi?" he asks.
"Qu'est-ce ce pass?"  He looks around as the vortex closes.  
	"Participle.  Undulate the market pores!"  shouts a 
(confused?) Scissorman, his hands clacking.
	"Mon Dieu!"  exclaims the knight, and draws a strange device from
it's holder on his belt.  "Arretez, monsieur."  
	"Casebook for pokey.  Gazette."  The Scissorman keeps advancing. 
	"Dieu, pardonnez moi," murmurs the knight.  A beam of light spits
from the device, and catches it on the arm, which drops to the ground,
limp.
	"Je ne conprends pas."  The knight looks around, confused by his
surroundings.
	"Animate.  Flames.  Grumpy!!"  shouts the Scissorman.  His shears slash
out and slice the barrel off of the knight's device.  He jumps back, dropping
its remains.  He quickly backpedals and draws the broadsword strapped to
his belt.
	"J'ai FINI de toi."  he shouts.  The two circle each other, making 
feints and testing each other's defenses.  
	"Perdition.  Regis.  Bezzier," taunts the Scissorman to the
uncomprehending knight.  It's shears flash out, but the knight bats them
up with the flat of his blade, and kicks the Scissorman in the chest.  It
falls to the ground.  The knight whips his sword around, and plunges it
into the being, whose clothing flutters to the ground.
------------
	"Where in the name of God am I?"  Marcel thinks.  "And what
sort of demon was that?"  He looks around, and picks up the pieces of 
the pistol.  "Well, that's the end of the GodLight."  He puts the pieces in
his compact backpack.  He hears noises of combat from a nearby tavern,
but decides not to go to investiagte until he has a better idea of his
surroundings.  He looks around at the people.  A couple of them had
grabbed the empty clothing of the Scissormen and are running down the 
street, figuring they have to be worth something.
	The knight approaches a member of the now vanishing crowd.
"Excuse me, sir.  My name is Marcel Delacroix.  Where exactly am I?
I seem to be lost."
	"<Buddy, I don't have a clue what you're saying.>"
	"Oh dear, that doesn't sound like anything I know.  The Rabbi
probably doesn't know either.  Have you ever heard of Magna Veritas?
Earth?  Aysle? Am I in Aysle?"
	"<Listen, pal.  I have less than a clue about what you're saying.
But I bet those freaks in the Dragon's Inn will know what to do with you.>"
	The man points in the vague direction of the Inn and wanders off.  
	"Rabbi, what's the matter you've been quiet, mon ami," Marcel thinks.
	[What, first you complain about how I talk too much, and now I 
don't talk enough.]  the letters streamed across his field of vision in
responce.
	Marcel began to look up and down the street.
	"Well, do you have any idea where we are?"
	[Sorry, boychik.  This isn't Aysle, however.  That pointy-eared type
over there is too pale to be an Ayslish elf.  And, I speak Aylish and that
wasn't it.  I was checking my memories, that reality storm messed me up
a tad.]
	"Don't over-exert yourself."
	[Don't you patronize me.  I get stuck with a doofus knight for 
the rest of my unnatural life.  Why me, God?]  Streams of Yiddish continued
across the screen.
	Marcel ignored the comments and continued to look around, trying to  
find some recognizable place or person.  [It's my professional opinion that we 
are lost.]
	"Astute as ever, Howard.  Do you see anything that looks familiar?"
	[No, as far as I can tell, it's a pretty generic town.  Could be
Aysle.  Could even be Magna Veritias, except I don't see anyone being
burned at the stake.]
	"That is not amusing, Howard."
	[I'm not kidding, boychick.  Anyway, the town guard isn't too 
overbearing, and your armor isn't attracting too much attention, at least
we won't get thrown in jail.  Turn on the gizmo Dr Hachi invented maybe 
this is a weird section of Aysle.]
	Marcel concentrated <<Activate Possibilty Sorter.>>  The letters
scrolled across the screen.  [MINIMAL SOCIAL ORGANZATION...PROBABILITY 78.234%
LOWER THAN MAGNA VERITAS...GUNPOWER BLOCKERS IN EFFECT... MODERATE INTERVENTION
BY DIVINE ENTITIES...WISH PARSERS EXIST BUT STILL IN BETA-TEST STAGES....
COMPUTING POSSIBILITY POTENTITIAL......RATING 7.89+- 87% DOMINANT ZONES..
NO POSSIBILITY DRAINING ARTIFACTS IN SENSOR RANGE ..HIGH CONCENTTRATION OF 
STORM KNIGHTS BEARING 14 MARK 10 ]
	"Incroyable, that's comparable to Earth's store of Possibility Energy.  
It's is comforting to know that no High Lords are here as well. But that
does not match Aysle readings."
	[True.  Perhaps we should see to our immediate situation?]
	"Sigh, yes Rabbi.  What do you reccomend?"
	[Talk to the Storm Knights inside.  Maybe one of them speaks English.]
	"What was that phrase Slasher said, 'and if pigs had wings they 
could fly'?"
	[Fine, fine, ignore me.  See if I offer any advice.]


ADMIN:  Marcel's standing around looking confused ouside of the Scrappy
Ram.  On your way out, could one of you Kron Questors point him towards
the Inn?
	
ADMIN: 
** Marcel Delacroix (& Rabbi Fishbien)**:(Rick Jones)albert@crick.bcm.tmc.edu
	Marcel is a human, and looks like your typical paladin.  However,
he's from the Cyberpapacy (in the Torg RPG).  He is proof of Clarke's 
Law regarding magic and science.  He's currently dressed in plate armor.
An ornate cross hangs around his neck, and a broadsword is in a scabbard 
hanging on his waist.  He's around 6' 3" and powerfully built. 
He's got black hair in that Moe haircut you see on priests in old pictures.  
(No shaven tonsure tho.)  He gives off that air of innocense seen in children 
and paladins. 
	The Rabbi Fishbien is a Spirit Chip, a personality inscribed on a
microchip, and mounted in Marcel's head.  The process was supposed to wipe
away all of the Rabbi's 'heretical' tendencies, but the Rabbi's true 
personality re-emerged.  The Rabbi is an expert linguist, and has a 
great breadth of historical and religious knowledge (for Earth, however).
His "speech" appears on a LCD stream across Marcel's field of vision.
Empaths and sensitives can sense the Rabbi's presense, as the process for
creating Spirit Chips involves strange mystical rituals.

	I've got a story for Marcel that may dovetail with the Kron Thread.
It's important that Marcel remains in Generica for a while, even though
he wants to go home, so nobody tell him about any gateways or d-hoppers or
anything you might have.  (Or come up with technobabble about why they 
can't get him home.)
-- 
Rick Jones				Systems Support Center
albert@bcm.tmc.edu			Baylor College of Medicine
Voice: 713-798-7352			standard disclaimers apply
"Hmmmm, this sounds like *another* job for Stupendous Man!" - Calvin
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn