Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Krupp Faraway [Inn] Introduction
Message-ID: <1jnbr2INN6pm@gazette.bcm.tmc.edu>
From: albert@chain.ssctr.bcm.tmc.edu (Rick Jones)
Date: 21 Jan 1993 23:32:49 GMT

	It was cold that day in the City of Fountains.  I woke up in a
pile of garbage, covered with snow.  Nicky the Weasel must have spotted me
tailing him.  When you're a private investigator, you often wake up in
strange places.  Personally, I prefer to wake up next to a beautiful dame
than a pile of refuse, but you take what you can get.  I wearily got to my
feet and looked around.  It was evening, and for some godsforsaken reason,
it was snowing.  I figured some wizard had been playing with his wand
again.  Lacking a real plan of what to do next, I looked for my hat. 
Lucky for me it was right next to me and I didn't have to fight with the
rats for it.  I still felt woozy, but not too cold.  The snow was cold to
the touch, but I didn't have a chill even after snoozing in it for at
least a few hours.  Wizards.  It had been early afternoon when I was
tailing Nicky.  Creft's thugs must be getting better.  I decided to
compliment the big slug on it next time I saw him.
	 I brushed some filth off my fedora, tightened the belt on my
overcoat, and started walking.  Dinner sounded like a good idea, but then
it always does.  I sniffed my coat, and thank the gods it didn't reek of
garbage.  Good thing too, I wanted a real meal, and a stink would mean I'd
have to go home and change.  Home might be watched too.  Public was the
watchword.  And there's no place more public than the Dragon's Inn.
	Littlefair runs a good joint.  It caters to the wierdos of the
city, but if you're a giant demigod vampire psionic drow archmage, I
suppose that, like the 800 year old dragon, you can eat where you want. 
Best of all, it was spelled against violence, and even though I felt fine,
I really didn't want to get coshed twice in one day.
	The streets were starting to roll up in Merchant's Hill, with all
the fatcats locking and warding their stores for the evening.  Guess they
were too busy to notice a little guy like me, 'cause I almost got ran over
twice by overeager greengrocers on their way home to the wife and 8.5
kids.
	As always, the Inn was crowded, but not so much that a guy
couldn't find a good seat. I looked for my regular table, close to the
fire, but with my back to the wall.  Sure it's spelled for safety, but
Mama Faraway's little boy Krupp never didn't get to be this old by taking
things for granted.  Besdies, it looked like there had been some sort of
ruckus earlier.  I sat comfortably into the chair, and stuck my feet out
towards the fire.  Ah, bliss. 
	So, things were going well until this goobah starts to sit down on
me.  "Hey," I shouted.  He looked down at me.  Another bigdumbjock
fighter. 
	"Whoah, sorry there little buddy.  I didn't spot ya."
	Normally, I would have let that slide, but the 'little buddy' line
stuck in my craw.  Hey, I'm short, I admit it.  Halflings are.  But the
patronizing tone bugged me.  Is it our fault that we look like human
children?  The patronizing tone we so often get is one of the few things
that really bother me.  So, I looked him straight in the eye, and gave him
my best withering stare.  "I'm not your buddy, big guy.  Pay attention
next time."
	He visibly blanched, and started to stammer an apology.  I waved
him off.  The old hairy eyeball usually didn't work that well.  I must
have been getting better at it.
	"Well, hello there, Krupp," said Serene, my absolutely faveorite
waitress.  "I didn't see you come in." She smiled.  "Would you like your
usual?"
	"Yup, and bring me a bowl of pretzels please." My trailed detective
eyes noticed the gurgling baby slung on her hip.  I didn't think she was
due for a month or so yet, but then I never was too curious about human
babies.  Halfling ones are enough trouble.  Main reason I got off the
farm.  I didn't want to settle down and have a bunch of them.  Mostly
snotty nosed, and wet bottomed little buggers.  Not for Krupp, thank you
very much.  This one seemed rather pleasant, and burped happily.  I
restrained myself from making kootchie-koo noises back.
	"Be right back," she said, and moved easily through the crowd.  I
leaned back in my chair and wiggled my toes close to the fire.  Bliss.  I
started formulating plans for how to get the case back in motion.  The
crowd was starting to pick up.  I must have just beat the "just a pint on
the way home, dear" crowd. I spied Serene worming her way through the
crowd, the tray with my ale and pretzels perched precariously above her. 
With a deft move, she slipped between two regulars, and brought the tray
down to shoulder level.
	"One Bayle's Ale, and a bowl of pretzels." She didn't see the mook
behind her stumble backwards, and bump into her.  I raised my hand out
reflexively to catch the tray.  The tray, the beer, and even the preztels
passed through me, and landed on the floor next to me.  I patted myself
down. 
	"Not a drop on me.  Nice trick, Serene." She was looking at me
strangely.
	"But I didn't do anything," she protested.  I raised an eyebrow at
her, and reached down to pick up the spilled mug.  My hand passed through
it.  Serene bent over me, a concerned look in her eye.  She stuck out a
hand to poke me on the shoulder.  It went through me too.
	"Is there a wizard in the house?" she asked.

[ADMIN: people who can figure out what happened to Krupp would be any of the
numerous wizards in the place, the clerics, and Kadrys.  I've gotten email
from 'Raelf that he's interested in Krupp, anyone else interested, contact
me via email. (albert@bcm.tmc.edu)]
-- 
Rick Jones             		|	This is my costume.
albert@bcm.tmc.edu     		|	I'm a homicidal maniac.
Systems Support Center		|	We look just like everyone else.
Voice: 713-798-7352  		|		- Wednesday Addams