The World of Pern(tm) is copyright to Anne McCaffrey (c) l967. The Dragonriders of Pern(r) is a registered copyright. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Who would have thought that something so innocent as a simple game known as Nethack could cause Great Evil to occur? And who would've thought that the Dev Team has more Plots in the works than just new recipes for slime molds? Maybe no one would have thought it... before the Impossible occured. Before two dragonriders, one bronze, one green- -one Good, one Evil--discovered a mutual liking of both the game and its patron elven god, Erevan Ilsere. Before this dread revelation placed an Arcane Bonding Ritual upon the two, swapping their alignments--and to some extent, their minds. Witness two Benden riders, F'hlan and Kassima--the Shardingly Handsome Bronzerider and the Evil Greenrider who has made it her Quest to torment him with every Fiendish Plan within her power. What happens when, against all likelyhood, they discover that Heroes and Villains can have Something In Common? You'll find out, in... the Nethack Zone. (Doo-dee-doo-doo, doo-dee-doo-doo....) Benden Weyr> Kassima tosses K'tyn a slime mold. Benden Weyr> K'tyn YAY! Someone besides me /addicted/ to that silly game! Benden Weyr> Kindre says, "Nethack?" Benden Weyr> Kenai grins at S'riv. "Sounds like the voice of experience." Benden Weyr> Kassima actually beat it once, at explorer level, and became the Valkyrie Demigoddess Ytresse. Took me *weeks*... and no way could I *ever* win at normal level. Uh-uh. :) Benden Weyr> K'tyn hees. I name all my friuts Londo, so that when I eat one, it says, "My that was a tasty Londo!" Benden Weyr> K'tyn hees. Benden Weyr> S'riv says, "yeah, k rats suck" Benden Weyr> Kassima says, "A game with terrible graphics, Kindre, that's absolutely impossible and 100% addictive. :) I love it when you drink a hallucinogenic potion and get attacked by a Smurf." Benden Weyr> Kindre giggles, sounds interesting, definately...make it for C64??? ;) Benden Weyr> Caitria blinks. Smurf? Benden Weyr> Kassima says, "Yup. And a Luggage Monster, and the One-Eyed One-Horned Flying Purple People Eater." Benden Weyr> Kenai hehs. La-la-la-la-la-la.... Benden Weyr> Caitria decides to stay _far_ away from this game. Benden Weyr> Kassima has no idea, Kindre, but could give you the addy of their dowloadable WWW site if you want. :) Benden Weyr> Kindre ums, C64=no web access :b Benden Weyr> S'riv grins and ported Nethack to PowerPC:) Benden Weyr> K'tyn hms. They have it for the Amiga, Kindre. Yea..it's win.tue.nl, right Benden Weyr> S'riv says, "hows that for boredom" Benden Weyr> K'tyn notes it's also the ftp addy Benden Weyr> Kassima grins at Saer. Ah, a fellow addictee... here, man, have a Hawaiian Shirt. ;) Benden Weyr> S'riv grins, it's probably cursed coming from kassi Benden Weyr> K'tyn grins. Have you played SLASH yet? That is a cool variant Benden Weyr> Kenai ponders, and decides one addiction at a time is enough. I'm addicted to Spaceward Ho. :) Benden Weyr> F'hlan unidles, loves Nethack, and is no relation to Ph'lan. Benden Weyr> T'garrick is going back to basics and playing Zork, himself. Benden Weyr> K'tyn is to that, too, Kenai.:) Benden Weyr> Kassima looks injured. Hey, Saer, I'm a loyal follower of Erevan Ilsere, or whatever his name is! Nope... I can't even play vanilla Nethack any more; something funky happened to my quest files. Poof. And the Nh+ ones don't work with it, go figure.... Benden Weyr> Kindre still plays might and magic now and again...this is addictive enough :) Benden Weyr> Kethran does that elf-thing for Erevan. Wooo! Benden Weyr> K'tyn hms. You guys get 3.2.1? It is /very/ cool. Benden Weyr> Kassima tosses F'hlan a slime mold, then, and a Ring of Swooning. No, K'tyn! Is it a simple download, or is there a whole bunch of rigamarole that has to done before it can be played? Benden Weyr> F'hlan is also a loyal follower of Erevan Ilsere, ayep. Benden Weyr> K'tyn nopes, just ftp it, then unzip it. It's SO cool. A lot of the bugs are fixed. Benden Weyr> K'tyn prefers Quetzacoatl.;) Benden Weyr> K'tyn notes there's actually /graphics/ Benden Weyr> Kassima blinks at F'hlan. Lord and Lady, we have something in *common*? Okay, I'm scared now.... Benden Weyr> Kenai thhhpts Kassima and hugs F'hlan. Hey, be nice. :) Benden Weyr> F'hlan looks deeeply afraid, Kassima. Benden Weyr> Kassima whimpers. But... but... villains and heroes aren't *supposed* to have anything in common! It's a *law*! Benden Weyr> F'hlan promises to convert his next elf character to Solonir Thelandira, if it'll make Kass feel better. Benden Weyr> Kethran woo for Solonir, too. ;) Benden Weyr> Kindre sighs, phone getting stolen...back later. Benden Weyr> Kassima notes mournfully that she has NH+ elf chars that worship Solonir Thelandira, F'hlan... eeek. Benden Weyr> Caitria snugs a Kindre. Benden Weyr> Kenai aaaws. Down to 4 Ks. :) Benden Weyr> F'hlan says, "Oh dear." F'hlan pages: Someone must have performed some kind of arcane bonding ritual on us! AIE! Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima eeeks! This is serious! We've got to find someone with the power to fix this--I mean, bindings are tricky things. What if this meant I couldn't do evil to you any more? AIGH! From afar, F'hlan frets. Oh dear. I might suddenly feel compelled to do something... mischievous. Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima hmmms. Well, no cloud is totally without its lining of silver, I suppose. ;) Oh, dear. A mischievous F'hlan... the Weyr would never be the same! From afar, F'hlan wrestles with the compulsion, 36 Turns of pure bronzeriderness putting up a valiant fight! Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima meanwhile battles the sudden overwhelming urge to be good, and Do The Right Thing , and to blush a lot. Four Turns of greenridering can surely overcome that... surely! F'hlan pages: Must... not... be... evil! NOOOOOOO! You paged F'hlan with 'Must... not... be... good! (Now, Kassi, it would be so simple to give all your valuable possessions to the poor blueriders who have none....) AIYEE! Nononononononono!'. F'hlan pages: AIGH! You paged F'hlan with '(Go ahead, greenrider, go Impress many many many cute green FLs and cause just as many LCGs to swoon at you!) Uh-uh! I *refuse*! Well, the LCGs bit anyway.'. From afar, F'hlan is hallucinationg. Must be! Yes! From afar, F'hlan slaps himself, trying to wake up. You paged F'hlan with 'Right! There must have been a Potion of Hallucination in the citron this morning! That's got to be the answer... it *must* be. I can't be good and loyal and dutiful, I'm a *greenrider*!!!'. From afar, F'hlan wrestles with a powerful urge to go out and get smashed. Must be the potion... aie! Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima notes drily that the potion is an awful lot like being smashed anyway, so it's kinda moot. Meanwhile, where'd this strange urge to tell my dragon to shut up come from...? F'hlan pages: (This, clearly, explains why all my fire lizards suddenly look blue....) Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima sniffles. Yeah, well, it explains forty *green* fire lizards, *cute* green fire lizards, and one *terminally* cute gold, suddenly hanging around my weyr. And glowing, no less. AIGH! Bad enough Lyss, but now this?!? I see a sudden Benden Weyr Bluerider Massacre in the future... but no, no, I can't kill them, I must be courteous and polite and swoonsome--noooooooooooo! From afar, F'hlan peers, eyes slitting narrowly, out of his weyr. Greens... green flits. Look, boys -- there's greens over there... Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima walls herself up in her weyr, staring in horror at the greens. And then there's a knock at the door... ack! The LCBs have found her! Must... find... a better place to hide! But I can't leave the weyr! *ACK!* The next day: Benden Weyr> F'hlan's eyes glint red as he spies Kassima. Benden Weyr> Kassima's eyes glint glowing green. Great! Now all we need is someone with yellow eyes, and we'll have all we need to make Pern's first stoplight! Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima has figured it out. What we have to do to get rid of this evil hallucination is to find Greyswandir, the Artifact that dispells hallucinations. Then I can get back to being evil, instead of having these terrible urges to do something noble and self-sacrificing! *Shudder.* From afar, F'hlan quirks an eyebrow, and narrows his eyes at you. "And why should I help you? What's in it for me?" Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima blinks in actual, sincere innocence, and absently brushes her dangling forelock back from wide, earnest eyes. "Why, it's... it's... it's the Right Thing to Do!" she protests. From afar, F'hlan studies that dangling forelock, and those wide liquid eyes, and a small smile curls one end of his mouth. "But my dear," he purrs, "I could think of several more... _right_ things to do..." You paged F'hlan with 'The small corner of Kassi's mind not turned to the Power of Good snickers, but the rest of her nods sagely. "Ah, I see; you have a better plan. Maybe the Mitre of Holiness would be more useful, or just a unicorn's horn?"' From afar, F'hlan .oO (What... am I doing? Talking this way to this sweet young lass....?) .oO (This... VERY sweet... young lass... very sweet...) His eyes glinting subtly, the bronze rider lays a light hand on your shoulder. "It sounds rather tedious to me... all those deep, dark dungeons. A nice little nook in the Lower Caverns would be ever so much more pleasant, don't you think?" Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima's brow furrows in confusion under her headband. "There's something not quite right about that idea," she replies, "but I suppose Greyswandir *could* be there. But... there would be *people* there, too! And I might have to *talk* to them!" F'hlan pages: And for what on Pern would you want a Mitre of Holiness? Why, my dear... I could much better see you with Rings of Adornment, sparkling on those dainty fingers.... From afar, F'hlan arches one eyebrow invitingly. "I've only... one person in mind, my dear... unless you'd rather not talk to me...?" His eyes take on a look of mock disappointment. You paged F'hlan with '(Take the jewelry,) Kassi's normal subconscious mind tells her, but the Reformed Kassima shakes her head and says, sadly, "The nymphs stole all my Rings of Adornment. Oh, I didn't mean that!" she adds hastily, looking unhappy at the thought that she might have unintentionally upset someone else. "Of course I didn't mean I wouldn't want to talk to you, sir. It's just... all those LCBs...."'. From afar, F'hlan murmurs, longingly, "..... nymphs? Did you say nymphs?" Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima nods, dewy green eyes widening in affirmation. "Mean old water nymphs! They stole everything I had, except that strange orange potion." From afar, F'hlan's face lights up. "Nymphs," he breathes, thinking of attractively bare shoulders, come-hither smiles.... .oO (Great Faranth, what's wrong with me? It's like all my flits are proddy...) .oO (But why not have FUN with it, bronze rider? Hmm.....?) From afar, F'hlan peers down at you, cannily. "But of course," he purrs, "poor child. Defenseless. Without positions. I'm sure I can find it in my heart to help you.... with the proper enticements..." He trails off, voice rich with meaning. (Since when did F'hlan sound so suave?) Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima continues to fret, worriedly. "And now how am I *ever* supposed to find Greyswandir? Not that I can quite remember why I wanted it in the first place...." She looks puzzled. "Something about wanting to be evil. But why would I ever want to be evil?" Then she beams, eyes alight with gratitude (and gullibility). "Oh, kind sir, *would* you? That would be simply too good of you!" From afar, F'hlan bows, sweeping your hand into his as he does so, and ever so delicately brushing his lips across it. "Quite," he murmurs succintly. "Allow me to take care of everything; you need not fret your pretty little head with such burdens." From afar, F'hlan, with that, immediately summons drudges, with a crisp voice of command. "Bring us travel gear! We must quest!" Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima blushes no less than five shades of red, and stifles a giggle, instead blinking those entirely-too- trusting eyes. "Why, that's so sweet," she marvels. The still-evil part of her head retreats in sheer disgust. "But you simply *must* allow me to help. It wouldn't be *right* of me to let you do such a noble thing for me without helping you!" F'hlan pages: (Is it a glimmer of buried gallantry, or something else having to do with the odd coldness in hhis gaze, that makes the bronze rider claim the best armor for himself, and the better weapon?) Ah, but my dear, you _can_ help... (And he turns to you, offering you a delicate elven cloak, and a wee dagger with which you might defend yourself.) Simply... think of this... Greyswandir thing, and let me handle the rest. I will be your guide, and your protector, as we penetrate (his eyes sparkle strangely at that word) the vile dungeon. Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima takes the dagger, struggling to hold the itty-bitty knife--after all, helpless maidens aren't supposed to be good with weapons, for all that Kassi would normally have six or seven knives like this on an everyday basis!--and gracefully fastens the clasp on the cloak. "That should be easy enough, to think of it," she agrees. "But I'm so incredibly grateful to you, sir, for the dungeons are indeed known to be rife with monsters! And of course, I could *never* fight off such things by myself...." Never mind, again, that legend about Kassi killing wherries with her bare hands. This new, Reformed, good-souled, totally hapless greenrider would never even *think* about causing bloodshed, nonono. From afar, F'hlan .oO (Bloodshed. Now there's an appealing thought...) With that, he bows to you, and with a courtly sweep of his cloak, leads you off into the stairwell that descends into the earth. .oO (Now to find her a Ring of Adornment, and a Potion of Booze... and one of those magic flutes that plays music to Charm with...) Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima follows, watching the stairwell carefully so as not to step in any nasty dirt and muck that might soil her dainty feet. She stares at all the filth and dungeon-goo with wide-eyed wonder, and cutely wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Ewww," she ewwws, then hurries to keep up. "I hope we don't run into any monsters," she says nervously. "I've heard there are all sorts of nasty evil things in this dungeon, even worse than nymphs!" She tosses that forelock back out of her wide, fearful eyes again. From afar, F'hlan strides, cautiously, alert as a cat, one hand poised on the hilt of his elven short sword. In fact, oddly enough, his ears look strangely pointed down here, and his eyes look unusually large. But that strange, canny smile lingers on his lips. "I shall protect you, dearheart, do not fret that sweet head of yours with thoughts of such woe." .oO (Or thoughts at all; what need has she for them?) From afar, F'hlan leads into the first of the dungeon chambers, a tiny little button at his collar glinting in the faint light, inscribed "F'hlan the Edhel". Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima's eyes, also, seem to have acquired an unusual tilt, though they were already large and earnest, and the tips of her ears poke noticeably through her long black hair. She nods in utter, complete trust of her Protector. "I suppose I shouldn't... it isn't seemly not to trust in Erevan Ilsere to make things turn out right. And especially with my Wingsecond escorting me! After all, if you can't trust your own wingmates," she says, with a tinkling elven laugh, "who can you trust?" She follows carefully, the swarm of blue fire-lizards that trail after her having a contest to see who can eat the most giant bats. Somehow, a cute, delicate kitten has managed to attach itself to her as well. From afar, F'hlan thinks to himself, warily, .oO (I must be alert for Helms of Opposite Alignment...) That thought lingers, oddly. Why does he want one? The back corner of his mind, in which is imprisoned a faint noble glimmer of a bronze rider soul, beats in vain at the dark shadows engulfing the rest of his thoughts, while the fore of his mind settles on the notion that he'll simply have to keep HER from putting one on....) He smiles thinly over his shoulder at you, and murmurs, "Hail Erevan Ilsere," before searching the walls for the next exit. His green fire lizards, their eyes whirling redly and their hides glowing, provide sufficient light to reveal the nervous puppy who slinks at the elf-male's heels, sniffing at him and wearing a worried look that suggsets that Something is Wrong with his beloved pack leader but he just can't figure out what! From afar, F'hlan, all at once, utters an oath -- as a small goblin appears out of nowhere. With a few quick thrusts, the creature is dispatched, and F'hlan's collar-pin glimmers. From afar, F'hlan then suddenly freezes... as a ghostly finger hits the S key. Typist must go home. ;) From afar, F'hlan waves, he'll be back! Benden Weyr> F'hlan bamfs to go home. Back later. :) Later that evening.... Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima grins. And gets Lyss to toss an LCG at you (she can't do it herself, of course, being all Goodness and Light for the nonce ;). From afar, F'hlan mmmmmmmmm Lower Cav -- no, wait wait must resist aie! Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima gasps and claps one hand to her cheek in dismay, then grimaces. Must... not... feel... remorse! Must rejoice in the evil! F'hlan pages: Evil. Oh yes. And bloodshed! I was... killing a goblin, yeah, that's it... Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima loads the game, waits for the little dots that mean the file's being retrieved to go away, then seems to be trying to puzzle out just what she wants with this Greyswandir thing. .o0(Why would I want to be evil? Surely it is the best of fates to be a good, loyal, sickeningly sweet follower of the Mighty Erevan Ilsere!) What aspects of greenriderness that remain in her soul gag quietly. Blushing prettily at all the wolf-whistling that her blues are doing in the presence of such lovely, *glowing* greens, she fingers the silver torque on her neck with its engraving of 'Kassima the Elleth' and gapes in awe as the goblin meets its fate. She turns her gaze, brimming with wonder and admiration (and other such nauseating things) upon the bronzerider-turned-elf. "O sirrah, thank you ever so much for saving me from that evil, horrible, wicked goblin! Whatever," she continues to gush, "can I do to repay you?" From afar, F'hlan glances around with a green-glowing spark in his eyes, and leers, but charmingly. "You keep thinking on that enticing thought, sweet one, and I will let you show me what you've come up with, once we've found that Greywain thing you're doting on." As he speaks he methodically loots the corpse, casting aside the dull orcish dagger the creature had been carrying, and regarding the skull cap it had had on with a critical eye. Not the best helm in the world, but it'll do for now. He sets it on his head at a rakish angle. And his puppy creeps up behind him to eat the goblin's remains. From afar, F'hlan promptly finds an exit out, and smiles narrowly at you. "Here, child, why don't you try this door?" Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima giggles in maidenly fashion and peers at the knife. Some suppressed part of her mind urges her to take it-- it's a knife, and knives are good--but the now foremost Sweetness and Light aspect shudders at the very idea. She blinks at the cobwebby old door, all dirty and filthy, but pushes it anyway--in weakling, helpless fashion, of course. "It's stuck," she announces sadly, big green eyes welling up with tears. "I'm not strong enough to open it!" From afar, F'hlan pats your shoulder, letting his hand... linger there for a few moments, and he breathes silkily into your hair, "Of course not, my sweet; don't you fret." With that, he leans past you, thinking, 'Curses, I'll have to get her to trigger a trap later... after the seduction!' And he shoves the door open after a good push. Onward... Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima smiles brilliantly with that foolish trust up at you. "Oooh, I should've let you do that in the first place!" she exclaims, blithely forgetting (her brains seem to have gone the same place as her evil) that you were the one who told her to open it. "You're much stronger and braver than I. Ick, it's all dark in here." She follows closely after you, that annoyingly cute kitten (it looks suspiciously like Nermal) tagging at her heels. Meanwhile, a few of her blues trail after the greens of the party, chirping in what would translate to 'Hey, beautiful, where've you been all my life?' if FLs could speak English. From afar, F'hlan's greens circle the blues in reply, each and every one of them eying the males asthough they were lionesses stalking elk. "Just so, my dear," purrs the male elf, cajolingly. "Let me take care of _all_ your prob -- oh, excuse me." Deftly, he whirls, and shoots in rapid succession a volley of arrows into a kobold zombie! From afar, F'hlan's collar pin glimmers again, flashing the numbers 1/5 before winking out. He grins, wickedly, as the zombie meets it doom. He could get to like this. Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima gasps. "Oooh, nasty icky monster!" she exclaims, hurling her knife at the corpse. By now, she's so far gone that she's even forgotten how to throw a knife, and it just clatters harmlessly to the ground. She blushes, redly. "Oh, dear, I really am not any good at this killing stuff. But then, I guess that's what big, strong male elves are for, isn't it?" She faithfully scampers off to retrieve the dagger and arrows, making ewww-icky-yuck-yuck noises as she pulls the latter from the body. From afar, F'hlan skillfully cleans the weapons and returns the arrows to his quiver, and murmurs smoothly, "And that's not all we're for, my toothsome wren." .oO (I'll have her swooning yet, and then she'll be mine....!) With that, he guides you on to a new room, blithely takes out four grid bugs and a startled jackal, while his anxious puppy creeps along behind the lot of you, whining to itself and watching its master worriedly. Another jackal, and F'hlan's pin glows brightly for a moment, with a "2/20"; he seems, ever so slightly, stronger. Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima sighs, not unlike those girls in Beauty and the Beast when Gaston passes by, and averts her eyes from the sight of her kitten eating this latest jackal. The cat doesn't seem to notice anything weird about Kassi, or if she does, she just doesn't care. Then, a sound catches her ears. "Hark!" she cries. "Is that the sound of... a shopkeeper?" From afar, F'hlan agrees, "Verily, just down these stairs..." And down he guides you, one hand on yours and his thumb doing ever so oddly thrilling motions against your palm. Sure enough, just down the hallway comes the chime of a cash register. Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima sighs again and edges closer to her Protector, her head leaning against your shoulder--after all, walking down all these stairs is tiring work! "I do hope we have gold," she murmurs worriedly, peering up at you with that luxurious forelock dangling over one eye. "I think we're going to need better armor. I wouldn't want you to get *hurt* helping me like this, after you've been so wonderful and kind!" From afar, F'hlan lifts a hand to caress that forelock, and assures you while using his other hand to slash a nearby acid blob with his short sword, "Hurt? Nonsense, my dear. I could hardly allow myself to be harmed while we're looking for your Greymalkin thingamabob, could I?" From afar, F'hlan, ignoring the desperate voice in the back of his mind that yells with a Wingleader's training that this place is _dangerous_, escorts you off into the shop. By the door is a sign that says, "Ms. Asindonopo's General Store". And your Protector scoffs, too, at the notion of gold. "Fret not, my sweet, over such disturbing matters as money; I have the matter well in hand." Indeed, there's a box of tripe rations on a nearby shelf, and the bronzeriding elf slips to them. Pretending to have his back turned, he palms a tripe ration, then slips ever so innocently back to a spot by the door. He drops the ration, and nudges it just TO the door with his booted foot. Outside, the puppy blinkblinks. FOod? From afar, F'hlan, in the meantime, asks the shopkeep blandly, "Good lady, you wouldn't happen to have any Rings of Adornment for my little finchling here, would you?" Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima looks around the shop in wide-eyed wonder, while her kitten meanwhile dines on the store's stock of food that, for some reason, is just lying around on the floor. "Erevan Ilsere preserve us! What a marvelous place this is!" She clasps her hands and turns to the storekeeper with her ten-thousand watt beaming smile. "M'lady, I cannot express my admiration of this marvelous establishment...." And on, and on, until her cat throws up everything it ate from sheer nausea. From afar, F'hlan turns his face away long enough to roll his eyes, but when he turns back, he is all charm and smooth manners once more. "She doesn't get out much," he murmurs sagely to the shopkeep, who, gruffly charmed by the innocent lass, offers a scroll reading KIRJE on it for 26 zorkmids. F'hlan raises both eyebrows in mock outrage at the price, and starts to haggle. From afar, F'hlan, in the meantime, hides a grim smile as his puppy eats the tripe ration. Then the dog, desperately hoping to please his master -- he remembers gentle scritches from those sword-wielding hands, soft brown eyes, a kind smile -- starts sneaking over to pick up little items and drop them where the food was place. Another scroll of KIRJE, one of HACKEM MUCHE, and a yellow potion. Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima peers at the little canine and taps her Protector on the shoulder, leaning close to whisper in his ear something to the effects of that there's really no need to *buy* that scroll. Thanks to that amazing elven sense of hearing, she's able to whisper quietly enough that the Shopkeeper couldn't possibly hear. From afar, F'hlan lifts an eyebrow at the suggestion. "Whyever not, my dear?" .oO (Curse it! What's she doing thinking?) Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima's eyes widen in dismay, as she takes the lifted eyebrow as a sign that she's done something wrong. "Well," she murmurs, hesitantly, "it's just that... the dog...." Her dewy gaze flickers to the canine, and then back to his master, and she bites her lip in worry. "I haven't done something *wrong*, have I? I wouldn't want to do *that*, not after everything you've done for me...." From afar, F'hlan leans over, and brushes delicate kisses along each of your cheeks. His voice low and compelling, he murmurs, "Do not think a moment more on the matter, my dear..." And to add impact to his argument, he leaves just a whisper of a kiss across those sweet soft lips. "Just think about... all I've done for you. Yes, think about that...." From afar, F'hlan's puppy, ini the meantime, has accumulated quite the little pile of loot outside the store. For some bizarre reason, Ms. Asindonopo seems to completely miss the small dog carrying things out of her premises. Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima sways slightly, her expression one of not unpleased surprise. "I doubt I could *forget*, Wingsecond," she breathes. "You're doing me a favor of such magnitude just by guiding me, much less slaying so many foul creatures, that I am surely most deeply in your debt...." Kassi's feline, unable to bear any more of her mistress's sickeningly sugary behavior, starts nudging a plaid spellboook out of the shop. From afar, F'hlan purrs, "Indeed. Your debt. And it will be...." "such.." "... a pleasant debt to repay..." .oO (If I can only get her to swoon, I can leave her and get the Greyswandir for myself....!) Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima's eyes do start to roll back in her head, but deep within her soul, she's still Kassima, who can't swoon to save her life. Maybe that's why she tried to stop all the LCGs from being able to swoon--swoon-envy. "I'll have to try my hardest to think of a way," she answers, staring soulfully with those expressively wide eyes. The shopkeeper gives the two elves a long look; apparently, while she might not notice thievery right under her nose, she doesn't want to lose her lunch all over the counter. From afar, F'hlan's mind's back corner blushes in shock and shame at the devilish behavor his body is engaging in with the innocent waif of a green rider; for some reason, he no longer remembers that this other rider used to be evil. He only reels, just a le, enough to notice the shopkeep's disapproving glare. "A thousand pardons," he apologizes. "My lady" -- and he lengthens these words to make sure you heard them -- "is a trifle faint. You have been most hospitable, but I should get her back out into the open air." (That the air of a dungeon isn't that much more open outside the shop than in, he doesn't bother to mention. But he knows he'll have to dispose of you in private!) Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima blushes again, not once, but thrice-- with embarrassment at the shopkeeper's stare, with pleasure at being called a lady (something the formerly evil Kassi is certainly not used to; whatever she once was, 'lady' was not a fitting word to describe it!), and a third time in faint horror that springs from the buried depths of her mind. What is she *doing*, being sweet and nice and innocent instead of wicked and evil? But this last gets mostly ignored as she nods in flushing agreement. "Pray forgive me, good m'lady. 'Tis just that I'm not used to being out in the world, and having *people* around...." She stammers, as though not used to having to *talk* to people, either. From afar, F'hlan, with that, bids the merchant farewell, and escorts you back out into the dungeon, thinking to hmself that he'll fin da way to get rid of you yet. Back out into the darkness... but stopping now to sort through the pile of loot brought by the dog. Long distance to F'hlan: Kassima blinks down at the loot, blissfully ignorant of all these thoughts of disposing of her (after all, her trusted Protector and Wingsecond would *never* entertain such a notion!). "My stars! I can't believe the shopkeep didn't notice this stuff was missing... what *are* these things?" She looks over to you, completely certain that of course, as the Font of All Wisdom, you'll know the answer. From afar, F'hlan picks up all the items, peers at the scroll of KIRJE, and reads it aloud. As the scroll vanishes, he abruptly grins." "Useful things, my pet, which will help us find your Greysomethingerother. Useful, I promise you." WIth that, he cheerfully swigs down a Potion of Gain Level and a Potio of Gain Ability... and, wonder of wonders, his pin flashes 3, and he looks ever so slightly handsomer. From afar, F'hlan's typist suddenly hits the S key. :) Gotta bamf! I'll be bac when I can!