Path: usenet.ee.pdx.edu!news.netins.net!news.dacom.co.kr!news.uoregon.edu!usenet.eel.ufl.edu!gatech!news.sprintlink.net!uunet!not-for-mail From: Guido Roessling Newsgroups: rec.games.frp.archives Subject: STORY: Qelrik part 72 Followup-To: rec.games.frp.misc Date: 16 May 1995 08:20:13 -0400 Organization: Technische Hochschule Darmstadt Lines: 78 Sender: smm@uunet.uu.net Approved: smm@uunet.uu.net Distribution: world Message-ID: <3pa59t$ngl@rodan.UU.NET> NNTP-Posting-Host: rodan.uu.net This is a multi-part message in MIME format. ---------------------------------17843820441507244389906487354 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain; charset=iso-8859-1 Note: Qelrik's available on the WWW at http://www.pu.informatik.th-darmstadt.de/dida/qelrik.html ---------------------------------17843820441507244389906487354 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit Content-Type: text/plain ================================================================ Enter Sir Percy -- Nose to the Grindstone ================================================================ Sir Percy Featherstonehoff-Fartheringay-Fipps carefully brushed the dirt from a fragment of pottery and tried (vainly) to fit the piece into the partially constructed vessel he had been working on. "Blast!" he whispered to himself. "Such a complicated affair, what? It would be ever so much more convenient if people could smash their pots in separate, distinct piles, I daresay." He opened his sketchbook to another blank page and carefully drew a copy of the fragment. After he was satisfied with the rendering, he carefully placed the piece in an area which was destined to be the start of another pile, the twenty-first since he had begun work on this mound of debris some hours ago. His stomach made yet another loud, gurgling protest. Sir Percy did not remember when he ate last, so he figured it was time to pay a visit to base camp for supplies. He carefully closed his book and popped it into a small bag that hung at his belt. Then he began to whistle a favourite folk tune as he began the long journey from his current workplace to the end of the Long Hall where the food was kept. The arches of the vast vault loomed above him some fifteen metres as they spread out in imitation of a tremendous forest. This portion of the ruined City was obviously intended to receive important vistors long ago, but had only Sir Percy for company these past several weeks, since its days of glory some thousand years ago. It took Sir Percy nearly half an hour to trek the wide passages back to his base camp, near to where he first found the huge underground ruin. His packs were still carefully placed where he left them, and he seached carefully through his gear to find the supplies necessary for him to brew some tea and have a snack. As he sat sipping his drink he also worked on assembling what was once a grand chair of some sort from the flotsam and jetsam of what he originally uncovered as a stack of wooden splinters. "I say, I do believe this is pre-Imperial Harcanian!" he exclaimed, fitting a few more pieces together. As he worked some of the myriad dust about was disturbed and found its way to his nose. He sneezed, loudly and incautiously, and the echo reverberated throughout the chamber, sending more dust down from above. He paused to make sure he had disturbed nothing else, and then he heard it. Unmistakable. It was the gutteral sound of Orc-speech, still quite distant, and coming through a particularly decayed portion of the wall, near to where he himself had first gained entrance. "Hmm, not those pesky creatures again? Per'aps it's time they got another good scare from the 'ghost', what?!" ---------------------------------17843820441507244389906487354--