Subject: [Dagger] [Porc] My deliverance arrives.
Date: Tue, 11 Aug 1998 22:52:41 -0400
From: "Jim Davis" <jrdavis@penn.com>
To: <dagrfall@ods.com>

As I lay my head down on the muddy ground, I closed my eyes,  I knew my
opposers, no, my deliverance from myself, was coming.  I began to reflect
back on my life.  Six thousand years, gone.  All my training and power was
not enough to save me from myself.  My darker side took over.  I was alone.
Though my father did not know of my failure, I knew he would be forgiving.
My entire family would forgive me, but I could not forgive myself.  I
stripped myself of all titles.  No more Tamislane.  No more Lord.  No more
ruler or conqueror.  I am just Jemalas, a scared Sidhe on an alien world.  I
knew that I could escape punishment if I gated back to Sovere, but I
resolved this to myself, "Even if this be my last action on a material
plane, I will do the right thing."

I screamed out several words of magical power and drained myself of all
magic, at least for a week, but that did not matter.  I do not plan on
seeing till next week.  I held my head up through the exhaustion, not
blinking, even when Kali offered me divinity.  If I made such a horrible
person, what kind of God would I make?  No.  I cannot subject all that is to
my horrid temper.  I sat waiting.  Waiting, the hardest part.  I began to
grow drowsy, as magic is my life blood and I emptied myself of it.  I pulled
out the only weapon I carried with me now, Scorcher and Ghalleva back in the
castle.  I drew the Tamislane Dagger.  I looked at the fine mithril blade
rising out of the diawood handle, the black adamantium settings....  I took
the blade in my right hand and raised my left arm.  Thinking that "If my
deliverance does not come, I shall do it myself."

A flash in the warm sunlight and I pitched over, the Tamislane dagger deeply
imbedded in my rib-cage.  "Damn," I thought as I spat weakly the blood
welling up in my mouth, "I did not hit either of my hearts, nor my lungs."
I grew even weaker from loss of blood, but I did not remove the blade.  The
pain was fitting in a way.  My already pale complexion grew steadily whiter,
till I was as virginal as the finest vellum.  Sitting, more like swaying,
blood pouring out of my chest and dribbling from my mouth, I fell forward,
propping myself up on my elbows.

A thought mused across my brain, "If Targath and his companions do not
arrive soon, they will not get the satisfaction of seeing me die."  I
allowed myself one bitter smile, knowing how he planned to summon the
Dragons of the Dreadarmy on me.

KE-POW!!!  I heard the sound of the companions exploding into being around
me.  "You are just in time...." I said as I lapsed from consciousness.  In
my broken heart, I wished nothing more than to allow the mists to slip over
me and take me away from the pain.  I heard voices drifting on the edge of
my mind, speaking quickly.

~Jemalas, ruiner of fine silk shirts, possessor of little blood at the
moment.
jrdavis@penn.com
ICQ- 16848203