From: cj841@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Chris Steiner)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [AG] morning
Date: 20 Mar 1993 09:24:36 GMT
Message-ID: <1oenskINN8df@usenet.INS.CWRU.Edu>


   Toscon woke the the sound of what was now a familiar chant.  /I don't
want to see this,/ he thought.  He didn't even want to smell it.
Partially out of habit and partially to prolong the eventual event of
opening his eyes, he took inventor.  His sword pressed uncomfortably
into his leg.  His boots and most of his money was there.  (As expected,
his change purse was gone as well as the coins in his jacket pockets.)
The urn was wrapped in a blanket beneath his head.  His ring was there.
His necklace.  His teeth.  His hair.  /Aw, hell.  I've gotta do it
sometime./

   He opened his eyes and sat up to see Effandir crouched over a fresh
zombie.  It appeared to be wearing rusty chainmail, a few blankets, and
a knife.  Efandir brushed his pants off and strolled over to Toscon.

   "So what's this one going to do?  Search for your friend and get
killed like the others?"

   Effandir glared at him.  "No.  I'm expecting trouble in the near
future.  This one will guard us if we are sleeping here."  Toscon gave
him a cold stare to which he replied, "Don't worry.  She died in her
sleep.  Of natural causes."

   /Right./  Toscon re-wrapped the urn for better carrying as Effandir
gathered his stuff together.  /Two backpacks,/ Toscon thought.  /He's
got two backpacks, a horse, 5 purses, brown-grey "silk" clothes, and who
knows wat else./  Toscon shook his head.  Some people know how to live.
He waited as long as he could, then jumped down the stairs, landing
silently.

   The inn was almost empty.  Splunk blinked lazily at him and gestured
behind him where Ghurney was sleeping.  "Gotta get your own food for a
while," he said.  Light was shining through the cracks in the walls,
showing just how long the bar went.  Toscon could never immagine having
that many people in this place at once.  Three people sat at a table
near the fire, one short female, two mage-type males.  They were
whispering to each other even while gesturing dramatically.  /Another 
stuffed backpack,/ he observed.

   He picked up the bowl and headed over to the pot.  He held his breath
as he spooned out some soup.  Realizing that it wasn't the "special"
that they served earlier, he risked taking a sniff.  He almost sneezed.
The smell of the gruel was still on the pot and mixed awfully with the
overspiced soup.  Walking over to Splunk, he asked, "What's the
occasion?"

   It didn't take more than a second for Splunk to figure out what he
was talking about.  "Some dark guy came in here and gave me a load of
coins to take messages for him.  Didn't give me a chance to say 'no',
not that I would have, mind you.  We should be getting real food for a
while at least."

   Toscon ruffled his hair and spun around to the occupied table.  "You
look the type that are planning something serious.  Might you need
someone who can fight amoung you?"