From: humadragbn@aol.com (HumaDragbn)
Date: 14 Jan 1999 15:43:10 EST
Huma sat in his office at the Dragon's Lair filling out paperwork. He took a break and gazed to the picture on his desk, a picture of him in an aggressive-like crouch, holding his salami firmly with both hands. He sighed at the memory. It had been nearly a month since his salami had been salami-napped. The memories were now begining to bring him down.
Huma remanissed about days of old with his salami. He thought of the time when Jola took a bite from it, and even the time he used it on Roland. Then his thoughts went to a older memory...when he and Aja were together. He remembered private duels with her where he mastered the art of baiting his opponents into under-estimating the power of his salami.
Sure he had tried other coldcuts....summer sausage, pepperoni, he even went so far as to try bolonga and olive loaf. None of them could compare to a three foot salami, and as Huma gave it more thought, he concluded that in the end, nothing satisfies like his salami could.
Huma sighed as the feeling he'll never see the salami again crept over him. He grinned slightly, knowing something very few did...that his was a hard salami, not a regular beef salami. This thought didn't help much though. Huma stood and went out into the bar to have himself a drink to chase away the depressing feeling he was having....
Huma Dragonbane
International man of little or no importance
The Salami saga, part 2...
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
-
DoS Archive
- Archivist
- Posts: 30701
- Joined: Mon Feb 16, 2004 8:27 am
From: rhy@aol.com (Rhy)
Date: 17 Mar 1999 16:32:28 EST
I spun about as the man went flying through the air, smacked into the opposing wall and slid down heavily to lie very still on the cobbled roadway. "Damn it Levy, you could have at least yelled -duck-," I hissed as I took note of the infamous artistry of my first mate. Operating on my last reserves of stamina, I wasn't in a mood to be pleasant.
My arrival back in town had been heralded by a visit from Huma Dragonbane. "It was -my-fault," he'd stressed in the verbose style he'd made famous as he cornered me over a mug of ale. To this I gave little defense as he was right. His salami had been in my possession when it had been purloined. I'd made it my habit ever since to never take home a trophy after the winning of a duel.
Guilt compounded by his intimidating insistence, found me appointed as courier for the ransoming of his precious log, and ultimately paved my attendance this night to a small dark alley off the second court of the Rue Des Angels. Few could have persuaded me to take up such a cause in the wee hours of the morning, but I was in my own way fond of the verbally challenged giant, and had some sympathy for his cause. Well, that's what I told myself
anyway. That, and the fact that he could flatten me in a single swipe of a beefy palm was the basis so far of a successful friendship.
Huma's beef log was in its own way notorious, and had become an acquired taste of several ladies in the Arena. Since it's abduction, he felt that his romantic prospects had somewhat curbed. Understanding the penchant some women had for lengthy appetizers, I was not given to argument here. Whether it was the confidence a three sausage foot gave a man, or whether there was any real merit to it's passionate pretense...it didn't really matter anyway.
As in so many cases perception was everything. All that mattered was that he missed waving it about and wanted it back.
The money had been delivered at the carriage house as the note had required, but the promised beef log had never materialized. That had been three hours ago and I, Levy and Timmon had trailed the bagman to this narrow alley near the pier. Trouble was signaled by the low pitched thrumming of a sailors fife followed by the frenzied energy of attack. First blood had been drawn by the opening up of Timmons arm. His wound was not serious, but my
resultant anger was. As that last body had gone sailing into the wall, I welcomed the sickening thud of it, followed by an uneasy hush that settled all about us.
Feeling dangerous now, I moved in, focusing on the man who'd been directing from the shadows..or something loosely formed like a man. He was stooped and gangly, with matted hair and a shavelin- gabbit of a smile. Moonlight picked up the glint of steel from the long reach of a sword, and I was in no mood to mince meanings.
As I closed in upon him, he stepped into offensive pose, angling his own piece towards my chest. Surprise registered briefly as the moon moved in shadows across my face, revealing that I was a woman. I felt, rather than saw his immediate relaxation. For some reason this annoyed me, and cemented my final choice of action.
Lifting my sword, the air breathed out of my body slowly as stillness poured back in. Then taking aim at a line of shoulder, I struck, and watched him stagger to his knees from the pain before stepping away. His good hand grasped his damaged arm as he shambled back to his feet with a glare, then walked towards me as if he didn't believe I'd do it again. He should have. He was either in shock...or he was just plain stupid. Based on the crime, I
credited more of the latter.
My second stroke went low, taking him square through the upper thigh and this time he released his sword. Blood fountained as he fell to his side, making a dark splash on the moonlit street as with spine bowed, he lay there, struggling for breath.
Walking wide around of him, out of arms reach, I came up a little behind him and to the side. Dropping to my knees, I withdrew the blade once carried by Cam Baliol in years past. Bringing it up to hold the point at the edge of his throat, a great emptiness filled me..something akin to standing by the edge of the sea and absorbing its vastness. If I hurt him now, I'd have felt nothing. It simply didn't matter to me. It only mattered to him. Turning
just enough for him to see my eyes, I let that knowledge fill them, and let him see it.
"Now...a few rules, and we shall conclude negotiations." My voice was mild but it was my eyes that carried the threat. "Ye will ne'er agin pilfer beef logs, especially those tha' have the initials HB stamped on the end. No arguments...this is not a discussion. Renege at any time, and it will be but a small mattair o' hunting ye down and finish up business wi' a very nasty payoff. I don't wish ta be annoyed on this mattair again.
Undairstood?
He took a deep breath and it shuddered down his body, reminding me strangely of a bird settling its feathers. His body had tightened at first, but after repositioning the blade tighter against his neck, I felt his total surrender, and knew we'd reached agreement. He raised his hands upward, almost imploring, then nodded his head, silently as if afraid his spoken word might set me off. Did he fear me "now"? I'd have laughed aloud at this if I
wasn't so mercilessly tired.
When queried about the location of Humas piquant bayonet he pointed to the corner from which he'd come, and I directed Levy to take a look. A scramble of squeals greeted his arrival, followed by the hurried scurrying of small padded feet. But he returned in a moment carrying what was left of Humas log....just a few inches shorter than the last time I'd seen it, and little the worse for wear aside from the feasting of the rats. Shoving the man at my
feet aside, I stood, moving with the flowing grace associated with my kind and took the seasoned cudgel from Levy's hand.
A short time later, back at my room in the Golden Ivy, Huma's salami soaked luxuriously in a basin laced with "Lilac Passion". It was a perfumed soap known for its sweetly clinging and persistent properties. The scent would haunt that waxy casing for weeks. Sleep claimed me exhausted, and still dressed, in a high back chair near the hearth, to which I had retired to remove my boots. As my eyes had closed on my first full day back in RhyDin, I'd
greeted the new dawn while earnestly cursing the name Dragonbane.
Date: 17 Mar 1999 16:32:28 EST
I spun about as the man went flying through the air, smacked into the opposing wall and slid down heavily to lie very still on the cobbled roadway. "Damn it Levy, you could have at least yelled -duck-," I hissed as I took note of the infamous artistry of my first mate. Operating on my last reserves of stamina, I wasn't in a mood to be pleasant.
My arrival back in town had been heralded by a visit from Huma Dragonbane. "It was -my-fault," he'd stressed in the verbose style he'd made famous as he cornered me over a mug of ale. To this I gave little defense as he was right. His salami had been in my possession when it had been purloined. I'd made it my habit ever since to never take home a trophy after the winning of a duel.
Guilt compounded by his intimidating insistence, found me appointed as courier for the ransoming of his precious log, and ultimately paved my attendance this night to a small dark alley off the second court of the Rue Des Angels. Few could have persuaded me to take up such a cause in the wee hours of the morning, but I was in my own way fond of the verbally challenged giant, and had some sympathy for his cause. Well, that's what I told myself
anyway. That, and the fact that he could flatten me in a single swipe of a beefy palm was the basis so far of a successful friendship.
Huma's beef log was in its own way notorious, and had become an acquired taste of several ladies in the Arena. Since it's abduction, he felt that his romantic prospects had somewhat curbed. Understanding the penchant some women had for lengthy appetizers, I was not given to argument here. Whether it was the confidence a three sausage foot gave a man, or whether there was any real merit to it's passionate pretense...it didn't really matter anyway.
As in so many cases perception was everything. All that mattered was that he missed waving it about and wanted it back.
The money had been delivered at the carriage house as the note had required, but the promised beef log had never materialized. That had been three hours ago and I, Levy and Timmon had trailed the bagman to this narrow alley near the pier. Trouble was signaled by the low pitched thrumming of a sailors fife followed by the frenzied energy of attack. First blood had been drawn by the opening up of Timmons arm. His wound was not serious, but my
resultant anger was. As that last body had gone sailing into the wall, I welcomed the sickening thud of it, followed by an uneasy hush that settled all about us.
Feeling dangerous now, I moved in, focusing on the man who'd been directing from the shadows..or something loosely formed like a man. He was stooped and gangly, with matted hair and a shavelin- gabbit of a smile. Moonlight picked up the glint of steel from the long reach of a sword, and I was in no mood to mince meanings.
As I closed in upon him, he stepped into offensive pose, angling his own piece towards my chest. Surprise registered briefly as the moon moved in shadows across my face, revealing that I was a woman. I felt, rather than saw his immediate relaxation. For some reason this annoyed me, and cemented my final choice of action.
Lifting my sword, the air breathed out of my body slowly as stillness poured back in. Then taking aim at a line of shoulder, I struck, and watched him stagger to his knees from the pain before stepping away. His good hand grasped his damaged arm as he shambled back to his feet with a glare, then walked towards me as if he didn't believe I'd do it again. He should have. He was either in shock...or he was just plain stupid. Based on the crime, I
credited more of the latter.
My second stroke went low, taking him square through the upper thigh and this time he released his sword. Blood fountained as he fell to his side, making a dark splash on the moonlit street as with spine bowed, he lay there, struggling for breath.
Walking wide around of him, out of arms reach, I came up a little behind him and to the side. Dropping to my knees, I withdrew the blade once carried by Cam Baliol in years past. Bringing it up to hold the point at the edge of his throat, a great emptiness filled me..something akin to standing by the edge of the sea and absorbing its vastness. If I hurt him now, I'd have felt nothing. It simply didn't matter to me. It only mattered to him. Turning
just enough for him to see my eyes, I let that knowledge fill them, and let him see it.
"Now...a few rules, and we shall conclude negotiations." My voice was mild but it was my eyes that carried the threat. "Ye will ne'er agin pilfer beef logs, especially those tha' have the initials HB stamped on the end. No arguments...this is not a discussion. Renege at any time, and it will be but a small mattair o' hunting ye down and finish up business wi' a very nasty payoff. I don't wish ta be annoyed on this mattair again.
Undairstood?
He took a deep breath and it shuddered down his body, reminding me strangely of a bird settling its feathers. His body had tightened at first, but after repositioning the blade tighter against his neck, I felt his total surrender, and knew we'd reached agreement. He raised his hands upward, almost imploring, then nodded his head, silently as if afraid his spoken word might set me off. Did he fear me "now"? I'd have laughed aloud at this if I
wasn't so mercilessly tired.
When queried about the location of Humas piquant bayonet he pointed to the corner from which he'd come, and I directed Levy to take a look. A scramble of squeals greeted his arrival, followed by the hurried scurrying of small padded feet. But he returned in a moment carrying what was left of Humas log....just a few inches shorter than the last time I'd seen it, and little the worse for wear aside from the feasting of the rats. Shoving the man at my
feet aside, I stood, moving with the flowing grace associated with my kind and took the seasoned cudgel from Levy's hand.
A short time later, back at my room in the Golden Ivy, Huma's salami soaked luxuriously in a basin laced with "Lilac Passion". It was a perfumed soap known for its sweetly clinging and persistent properties. The scent would haunt that waxy casing for weeks. Sleep claimed me exhausted, and still dressed, in a high back chair near the hearth, to which I had retired to remove my boots. As my eyes had closed on my first full day back in RhyDin, I'd
greeted the new dawn while earnestly cursing the name Dragonbane.