Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: rigler@galileo.ifa.hawaii.edu (Michael A. Rigler)
Subject: [KQ] Thk [Scrappy Ram] almost steps on a gnome
Message-ID: <1992Jul16.064358.15984@news.Hawaii.Edu>
References: <1992Jul14.200843.15722@ulowell.ulowell.edu>
Date: Thu, 16 Jul 1992 06:43:58 GMT

Chars involved:  Those in the Scrappy Ram.

[ADMIN:  Praise be Sssuthru.  A Kron-Questor post finally made it 
through to my site.  I imagine the rest of you are deep into the 
combat by now.  I don't care.  I'm posting a reply anyway.]

Queriche slams down his empty mug with a cry of triumph.  His cry
turns to one of rage when he notices Thk's empty mug resting on the
bar next to the empty plate.  The room is suddenly silent.  No one
has ever beaten Queriche before.

Thk grins and breaks the silence.  "That wassss mosssst exsssselent
beer, Querissshh.  You humanssss, for all your faultsssss, sssure 
know how to brew."  The oversized lizardman reaches over the bar
and claps the stunned whaler on the back.

Queriche finally breaks into a laugh.  "Scales of Sssuthru, Lizard!  
Beer of Scrappy Ram plenty bad!  No makum worse in all Generica!"

Several patrons chuckle knowingly, but Verdigren growls ominously at
these words of treachery coming from his own bartender.  This exchange
is not going as planned.  Since the moment the ex-Guardsman and his 
troop entered the Scrappy Ram, Verdigren felt like baiting Kron and 
making him look foolish, or even picking a fight.  But now he finds
himself upstaged by the antics of this forktongue. 

Verdigren stands up.  "You cheated, you stinking forktongue!"

The bar is instantly silent.  The lizardman whirls to glare down
at Verdigren, his talons flicking out.  Queriche slides closer 
to the broadsword lying on the bar.  Thk catches this motion out
of the corner of his eye and grins terribly.

"Come get your sssword and let'sss play, Verdigren."  He hisses.  
"The sssshape of my tongue will be the lassst thing you sssee as 
I bite your --"

At that moment, the door swings open, seemingly of its own accord,
and then closes.  The sound of light footsteps is heard, and a mug
of beer slides off of one of the tables.  Glugging sounds are heard
for a moment.  Then, a gnome steps into view from between some tables
and speaks.

> "Excuse me, reptile, your hand ran away from me.  I know where it is.
> My name is Gillian."  sayeth the gnome butting his way to the front.

Thk stares in amazement at the gnarled, pint-sized being at his feet.
It seems to be speaking to him.  He has never seen anything quite like 
it.  He looks up at Verdigren.

"Verdigren, I do believe we've found sssomething *punier* than you!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------
Rigler            "It's not the shape of your tongue, 
                   it's who you insult with it."   --Thk