From: wolf@cheshire.oxy.edu (Clinton Richard Wolf)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Another new player...
Keywords: Depression. Depression. Despair. Depression
Message-ID: <1992Jun1.053841.3753@cheshire.oxy.edu>
Date: 1 Jun 92 05:38:41 GMT


 As the commotion about Kron continues within the inn, tendrils of mist begin
to rise from the ground in front of it. The tendrils intertwine and join with
one another, growing and multiplying as if alive, until a thick blanket of fog
covers the street. Then, just as suddenly, they recede, leaving behind them
a figure in a drab brown robe, lying face-down in the mud. The newcomer does
not move or speak, and therefore attracts the concerns of some of the nearby
locals, who helpfully remove his purse but are diappointed because he seems to
have nothing else of value, mostly wierd trinkets, including one in the shape
of a rabbit, which hangs on a thong around his neck and is made of wood. They
also leave the staff lying beside him alone, since before they can grab it a
member of the city watch happens by and scares them off. The guard, Ralston,
approaches the still figure and kneels, checking for a pulse. To his surprise,
it is strong and steady... To his even greater suprise, the figure speaks to
him, although the figure's voice is muffled by the fact that his face is still
planted in the mud...
 "Please let go of my wrist. I am alive, though not well, and in fact not even
the least bit happy or satisfied at all..."
 "Y- You're awake?!?" stammers Ralston. "But.. but you just laid there and let
them take everything..."
 The figure sighs. "What does it matter?" it asks in a bored, low-pitched moni-
tone. "We're all going to die, someday, anyhow..."
 "What?!?" asks Ralston. "You're a strange one, mate... but here, let me get you out of that mud, you look very uncomfortable..." 
  Ralston helps the man (for he sees now it is a human) to his feet, which the
man reluctantly accepts. "Well, now, look at you... Wet, muddy, penniless...
What are you gonna do?" 
  The man shrugs half-heartedly and picks up his staff. He sighs again. "I
suppose I will attempt to complete the cryptic task that Gypsy sent me here
to do. Sometimes I really don't know why I bother... everything's all so point-
less, anyhow..."
  Ralston's eybrows raise. "Task?" he inquires
  "Yes something about finding a mother, although Strahd only knows what that
means. They can be so obscure sometimes... I suppose I would be frustrated with
them if I cared... It certainly can't be my mother, because, although I never
knew her, I'm sure she loathes me, just like all the rest of you do..."
  Ralston says "What are you blabbering about? I don't loathe you..."
  The man only shakes his head morosely, "Thank you for your superficial at-
tempt at friendship, but I know you loathe me... everyone who knows me loathes
me, as do most of those who don't know me."
  Ralston thinks, I've seen a lot of strange things, but this guy's REALLY a
wierdo...
  "What's your name," asks Ralston, "and what might be your business here in 
Generica" He adopts what he hopes is an authoratative pose.
  The man seems to take no notice, but replies, "I am Father Lucas Murphy,
priest of Fecunda... not that anyone cares... and I do not really know my
business, except what I mentioned before to you... but then, you probably
weren't listening, anyway... although it is no doubt going to be immensely
boring and quite depressing, and far below one of my talents... But then,
everyone takes me for granted anyway, so why am I complaining?"
  Ralston is genuinely surprised... You're a priest, eh? Well, anyway, you're
gonna need a place to get cleaned up and get out of the cold, and the Dragon's
Inn right over there can certainly help ya in those respects... Maybe ya can
even find out about whatever mother you're supposed to find, also, although
 it'll probably be difficult narrowing the list down. Plenty of mothers around
here, ya know?" Ralston takes a gold coin from his purse and presses it into
the man's hand. "Here, this'll help ya for now" he says, and smiles
  Lucas sighs, nods, and trudges towards the door of the pub... and Ralston 
shakes his head, hoping the harmless loon will be okay, then moves off down
the road, resuming his beat...