Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: aaron@space.ualberta.ca (Aaron Humphrey)
Subject: [KQ] Queriche and Moriarty[Low City]: In The Same Fix
Message-ID: <1992Jul31.170447.25127@kakwa.ucs.ualberta.ca>
Date: Fri, 31 Jul 1992 17:04:47 GMT

Queriche sat in the Spitting Cobra nursing a beer.  Trawm[ADMIN: That is
the
half-troll's name, isn't it?]had let him come in, having sympathy for his
plight with Verdigren.  He couldn't go back to the Scrappy Ram now, and he
wasn't even sure if it was safe to say in Low City.  His mind was filled
with
memories of Camequeva.  Maybe if he could find a boat back there...but no,
they
probably would just try to kill him.  He'd almost forgotten the reason that
he
came to Generica in the first place...

"I don't know if we need another bartender here," Trawm said.  "I'll lend
you
some money, and you can go to Nester's Inn, if you don't have anyplace else
to
stay."

"That's okay, I have some money," Queriche said.  He didn't mention that
he'd
grabbed it from behind the bar when he left the Scrappy Ram.  If it hadn't
been
for that thrice-cursed lizard man, and his stupid trick with the
gills...and
that gnome or dragon or whatever he was...and Kron...and Verdigren...  He
sighed.  He really shouldn't drink any more.  After the chug he'd done
earlier,
he'd have a hangover to knock even Trawm off his feet.

Then he heard Trawm's voice at the door.  "Hello, Moriarty.  You a refugee
from
the Ram too?"  He looked up, and there was Moriarty, for sure.

"Not really," Moriarty said.  "But at least I don't have to hang around
there
anymore.  Geez--those Dragon's Inn guys, eh?"

Trawm sighed, a faraway look coming into his eyes.  "Yeah."

Then Moriarty saw Queriche.  "Hey, island man!  Thought I might find you
here.
Mind if I join you?"  He'd already sat down at his table by this point. 
"Two
beers, Trawm?"

Queriche thought of protesting, but decided not to.  What the hell, one
more
beer couldn't hurt at this point.

"So, you're probably in s**t with Verdigren now, eh?" the mage said. 
"Yeah, I
settled with the bastard too.  I mean, do you think it's easy and risk-free
doing the conjuring stuff I do?  Think again, bucko.  My brazier got banged
up,
and everything.  So I figure I paid my debt.  I mean, it's not my fault
they
won, eh?  That lizard guy got banged up good--did some conjuring of his
own,
a Beer Elemental or something.  Turned against him, though, and knocked him
a
good one.  He'll have a real headache in the morning...mind you, so will
you,
won't you?"  He laughed raucously at this.

Queriche had never really like the mage that much.  "What do you want?" he
asked.

Moriarty hemmed and hawed.  "Well, Q, it's like this.  Bein' a mage is a
high-
risk job.  Especially if you don't got nobody to back you up with a sword
or
whatever.  At the Ram, with you and Sambul and the Banneries, it worked. 
The
big problem there was Short-Stuff himself, and I'm glad to be out of that. 
But
you're out of a job, and I need some muscle.  You interested?  I was
thinkin'
of settin' up some kind of business, you know.  Maybe even outside Low City
if
I can afford it.  I mean, you think I sat on my butt when I was out with
Verdigren?  I got my own share of loot, and it's been residing nicely in
one of
Generica's finer monetary trust houses while I been layin' low, workin' off
my
debt to the half-pint.  So I figure I got a bundle now.  Whaddaya say?"

Queriche thought about it.  He really could do worse.  If he stayed in Low
City, got another bar job, he'd be stuck like he was before.  And there was
still the possibility that Verdigren would get back after him.  If he got
out
of Low City, then his chances improved immensely.  And if Moriarty had the
cash for it--why the hell not?

"Sure," Queriche said finally.  "Count me in."

"Great, Q!  Wonderful!  Shake on it?"  Moriarty spit on his hand and
extended
it to Queriche.  After a moment, Queriche did the same, rather dubiously.
"It's settled, then," the mage said gleefully.  "Tomorrow, we'll go over to
Ardrey's and find some prime business space, and maybe some good office
furnishings too.  Let's see, what angle would work best?  Consulting
services?
Private investigations?  Magic and mystique?  Hmmm..."

"Listen, chaps," Trawm broke in, "you can't stay here all night.  I've been
kind, since you're both in a fix, but could you get yourselves off to
Nester's
or someplace?  I gotta clean this place up."  He picked up an arm and threw
it
into the "Lost and Found" box.  "So, go.  Scoot.  Skedaddle."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah.  C'mon, Q.  Off to Nester's we go!  Unless you'd prefer
the
Dragon's Inn?  Didn't think so.  C'mon, get up.  You can walk, can't you?
I ain't gonna carry you..."

Stumbling slightly, the two left the Spitting Cobra and wandered off into
the
night.

ADMIN:  I'm having fun...

--
---Alfvaen(a.k.a. Aaron V. Humphrey, Page of Newts)
Canadian Network For Space Research, Edmonton, Alberta, Canada
"Don't you point that raygun at me--I might just explode..."  Thomas Dolby
Current Album--Yello:One Second
Current Read--M.J. Engh:Wheel of The Winds