Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: rigler@galileo.ifa.hawaii.edu (Michael Rigler) Subject: Thk [in] pub [to] Shrouded One's Table, Gaeshwaer, Fenris Message-ID: <1992Jun1.212022.27987@news.Hawaii.Edu> Date: Mon, 1 Jun 1992 21:20:22 GMT [ADMIN: Finally finished with that proposal! Now I want to post!] Banner begins his tale of woe. In his hunger to consume the fish soup, Thk barely pays attention to the man, but then he senses the pent up emotions...to lose one's warriors...yes, it is a terrible thing. So Thk slows his pace a bit, and tilts his head sideways so he can watch Banner. Every few seconds his tongue flicks out the side of his mouth and unerringly reels in a piece of fish from the broth... And then, Brannan pauses in his account, overcome with emotion. Thk realizes the fish soup is all gone. He rubs his stomach...still very hungry...maybe a bit less than before. He looks at the bowl, longingly, wondering how in the Murky Bog he can eat so much and still feel so empty. He glances sideways at Lady Azzar...hopefully, but no, this is her hut, and he would not be so rude as to command her servants to bring him more fish. He decides to force himself to think about something else besides his stomach... Hmmm...Banner is still silent. Gathering strength to go on... He takes a careful look about the room for the first time. Mostly humans and elves. Handing out shiny pieces of metal in exchange for food and drink -- coins! They serve as shell and bone for bartering purposes. Thk closes his eyes to picture where he has seen coins (his memory is blocked by fog barrier for some reason but he manages to breaks through for a moment)... ...and the vision that comes to him is bloody! He sees himself standing atop a wagon, dumping the coins out of a chest in his eagerness to find something worthwhile at the bottom. His arms are covered with gore up to the elbows. Nothing but useless disks of metal! Pah! He throws the empty chest into the bog to sink after the coins... His men are dragging the bodies -- both horse and human -- away down the hidden paths which begin where the swamp comes closest to the roadside (just short of a stones throw, Thk smiles, wryly) It is time to go...they are calling to him...but Thk remains standing atop the wagon...still gazing at the empty chest, entranced by its bobbing motion... ...why doesn't it sink? Then the mists close in and the memory fades. Thk realizes he is staring at the ladle as it floats in the soup broth. He shakes his head... --- rigler (Thk) --