From: wolvie@cybernet.cse.fau.edu (christopher motherway) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: The story of the scar Message-ID: Date: 17 Feb 93 23:40:02 GMT It was another busy night at the Dragon's Inn. The people inside were having a helluva time. The bouncer was just ITCHING for someone to toss into the street; this was the kind of a night he DREAMED of! The waitresses were hecticly trying to keep all of the patrons' mugs filled. And Lance Wolf was buying! He and Blaze literally stuck the "mother load" when, in a village a few dozen miles out, they nailed a manticore that was bugging the town for months. The reward had been rising expotentially, and the bounty was well more than enough to keep the couple in Generica for quite some time. When Lance told his story to the folks in the Inn, they were impressed. But when he stated that, from sundown to the moon rose high, the drinks were on him, they were ecstatic! That is, except Littletrill, who knew the moon would not reach its zenith until about 2 in the morning. He WAS conforted somewhat when Lance said he would pay for any and all repairs needed, and would personally see to it that the Inn was cleared out by 3 a.m. Blaze had decided to retire early (and who could blame her), while Lance stayed up, quarfing Murduk Whiskers all night. Some of the patrons sat at the bar next to him. They were on shore leave from one of the ships docked at the harbor. By midnight, they were pretty juiced, but still able to balance their butts on the stools. Every now and again, one of them would kiddingly jab Lance in the chest, causing the gracious knight to wince in slight agony. Finally, the man who had been jabbing him said "HEY! How come yyyyyou wince when I hitcha? I ain't that strrrrrong, y'know." The man on the opposite side of Lance said, "I betcha he's gotta scar unda thera! YUK! YUK! YUK!" The first man said, "Wwwwwwwellll? Do ya, pal?" Lance said nothing. But the man probed him constantly. Finally Lance said, "ALL RIGHT, all right! I'll show you roughiens!" He then grabbed his shirt bottom and lifted it up, showing his chest and abdomen. The men at the bar gasped (and nearly choked on their beers) when they saw the scar: four straight lines reaching from his right shoulder to his left hip. They were red and still quite visible, even though it has been over one and a half years since he received it. The first man said, "Bloody hell! Where in the Realm didcha get that from?" The other man said, "Yeah. And from what?!?!?" Lance sighed, pulled his shirt down, and said, "I do not know if you guys have the stomach for this story." The first man said, "Awwwwwww, c'mon, mate. I loves a good tale." Lance said, "Well, alright... ************************************************************************** It all started eighteen months ago. I had stumbled onto a town called Tangramayne and decided to rest there for the night. After finding an inn to stay in, I roamed around, looking for a pub or even a park to rest my mind in. I passed by many folks, most who seemed kind to strangers who offered me many items. I thanked them, but bought nothing. Then, I passed by this man. I accidentally bumped into him, in fact. He turned around fast and said, "Hey, mister, watch it!" I quickly apologized, but he would have none of it. He demanded I bow to him in servitude. I said, "Why should I bow to an ungrateful, pig-headed boar like you?" He said, "Because I am Joshua, son of the mayor of Tangramayne. That makes me the PRINCE of Tangramayne. And ALL should show respect for a prince! Especially idiots like you!!" "Horse dung! Being a mayor's son makes you no more a prince than if you were MY son!" "Is that right, sir?!? Well, if you question my rank, you question it by my sword." Joshua then whipped out his sword. I drew mine. Needless to say, we dueled. For a good twenty minutes, we crossed swords. Finally, I had had it with this man. I squeezed the handle of my sword, and let him burn into oblivion. The townsfolk saw the attack. The police hauled me through the streets until, finally, they held me over a small opening in the ground. "Murderer!" the captain said, "Let's see if you how well you do if the Pit!" He then tossed me in the pit. It took me a few minutes to get my bearings; I was still tired from the duel. Looking up, I saw that the police had left. I was in this cavern-type pit, about 40' by 40'. The opening was about 25 feet from the floor. I was just about to climb the wall and get out, when I heard something.... A deep growl was coming from an opening in one of the walls. A VERY deep growl! In a split-second, the beast was on me. It was a poison-wolf, a vicious creature as huge as a bear, as strong as a dozen oxen, and as mean as a manticore! It was also very dangerous; its claws were tipped with a toxin deadlier than a cobra's. I struggled with the monster until he was off me, and I started to grab for my sword...but it was gone! Those bastards took it from me! The creature lunged at me, and, with a mighty swing, slashed my chest. With a scream, I clasped a loose, sharp rock I had groped upon and thrusted it into its head. The wolf let a a scream worse than my own; I had managed to strike it dead center in his forehead. It screamed and groped to get the rock out, but to no avail. Within seconds, it dropped to the floor, dead. I had no time to rest; the toxin was already having an effect on my head. I slowly climbed to the top of the Pit, and crawled my way through the empty streets. It was sheer luck that I happened upon a temple and a monk who gave my an anti-toxin and healed me. An hour later, I was sitting in the temple, checking the bandage across my wound, when those same gaurds came in. They had followed my blood trail from the Pit. I would have been killed if not the mayor, who had saw the police rush in, had not have stopped them, asking the meaning of the outrage. When he was informed that I killed his son, he said, "Is THAT all? I was sure SOMEONE would have done it sooner or later with his asinine attitude." He then approached me, handing back my sword and saying, "Go now, stranger. I assure you, these men will be punished severely for their actions and you will not be harmed for the rest of your stay here in Tangramayne." I thanked him and went off the the inn to sleep that day off. ************************************************************************** "Whooooooh," said the first man, "You certainly been 'round, ain'tcha?" He took another swing at Lance, but he got off-balance and passed out to the floor. The other men who had heard the tale were too awestruck to speak. Lance asked Littletrill to put the rest of the drinks for the night on his tab and that he would be back to clean up at the moon's zenith. He got up, and stepped over a few drunks en route to the outdoors.