From: "Aaron Smith" Subject: So what happened to Finn, anyway? Date: Thu, 11 Jun 1998 06:58:38 PDT FYI, due to my summer employment at Binney & Smith, coupled with summer courses, I'll have very limited time ror recreational activities... such as this group. I'll continue to post, but dont't expect too much grandiose stuff for a while. -=-=-=-=-=-=-==-=-=-=-=-=- Scene: Mid-Afternoon. A well-worn road leading through a wooded area. Despite the evidence that it's used often, there is only one person visible. Finn stumbled forward, annoyed at finding a rock that wasn't supposed to be there. Still, he was doing pretty well, all things concidered. The ruts in the road made excelent guides, so he was able to walk in a mostly streight line with some confidence that he wouldn't run into a teee or something. Although he hadn't passed anyone since leaving town early this morning, he still had his hood pulled over his head to hide his face. He hoped that the way he was walking, along with his white bangs escaping the hood would make passersby assume he was nothing but a harmless old man. He WAS harmless, but people were more lokely to take pity on an old man rather than a young one. His stomach rumbled, and he made a note to stop and eat in a little bit. He hadn't eaten much all day, prefering to ration out what he had. There was no telling how long he'd have to make it last. He was brought out of his reverie when his staff hit something large and hard. Reaching out, he felt the trunk of a fallen tree. *Uh, oh...* Roads used as often as this one were usually free of debris. In fact, when something WAS in the way, it was usually put there by... "Bandits." "Yup!" Finn sighed as he heard what was apparently five to ten men jumping out of the surrounding bushes - at least one of which was a thorn bush, given the surpressed moaning he heard. *Okee, so they're not SMART bandits... hmm..." "Awright, you know the drill! Fork up yer money!" Finn complied, taking off his rucksack and belt pouch and holding them out in the direction of the voice, where they were snatched away roughly. There were some rummaging sounds, and then - "This is IT? It's not even enough to buy a round of ale!" "It's all I have, however." "Well, you've stil got yer life, don'cha?" *Aw, nuts - They're dumb, CRUEL bandits.* "Hey, boys, wanna have some fun with an old geezer?" He was answered by an assorted mix of chuckles. Finn just hung his head lower, leaning heavily on his staff. *C'mon... get closer... I'm helpless, right?* He sagged his shoulders, trying to emphasize that idea. His posture changed te moment he heard a footstep in the gravel right by his feet, however. Shifting the grip on his staff, he brought it up to (what he hoped was) head level and swung it around. Hard. He was rewarded with a few satisfactory *thwack* noises, along with assorted curses. Knowing he'd never get a strike like that in again, he clambered over the tree and ran away as fast as he could without loosing his place in the wheel rut. From the shouts coming from behind, he could tell that the bandits were following as fast as they could. ....and they were better runners than he was. To be continued when I figgure out how to get Finn out of this mess. -------------LONG LIVE THE MACINTOSH!------------- Aaron "Spiffy" Smith Job 7:11, GNV // Rev. 2:13a NIV "Tir gan ealain, tir gan anam." A country without art, a country without soul. http://members.tripod.com/~Spiffykun/ --------------------------------------------------