Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: hibschmn@phoenix.Princeton.EDU (Johann Allen Hibschman)
Subject: [JOI] Are we missing anything?
Message-ID: <1993Mar29.044139.1916@Princeton.EDU>
Date: Mon, 29 Mar 1993 04:41:39 GMT

	As a few more people join the little company gathered about
Elanon, Quaeros glances about quizically.  He examines the faces of
those arrayed around the table, pondering each in turn.  Finally, he
turns to address the others.

	"I must admit that we form an impressive-appearing force.
However, I'm loath to embark on any project without having a feel for
what resources I will have to bring to it.  I've heard the tale of
Alarond and can easily imagine the usefulness of a shapeshifter in all
manner of situations.  I have heard some mention of the fighting prowess
of Aleric and Kyar.  I must admit that I have little idea of what skills
Taredain or Ildamar may bring to the group.  Of Laureth and Darkin I
know only that they claim to be talented in something.

	For those of you who have just arrived, my name is Quaeros, and
I am a cleric of Ronkel.  However, don't expect me to be like those
accursed clerics at the Temple of Ilmater in this city who would heal
every injury and disease in the entire world if they could.  Can the
fools not see that death is the balance to life, that the old and weak
must die to make room for new life?  Pardon my digression, but
irresponsible healing is one of my pet peeves.  Ronkel is a god of
death, and as a servant of Him, do not expect me to patch your every
little scratch.
	'So what is this cleric good for, then?' you ask.  I know much
lore, can survive fairly well in a wilderness, and am skilled with my
daggers.  But I am becoming far to serious."  Quaeros reaches into a
pouch at his side and pulls out four brightly colored balls, which he
then begins to juggle.  "I don't people to think that I'm one of these
gloom and doom types.  Far from it!  I sing!  I dance!  Well, not
really, but I do juggle and know a few minor tricks of sleight-of-hand.
Somehow I always tend to lapse into Mr. Serious Cleric Type when
discussing religion, but I try to resist.  Just don't argue philosophy
with me, or I'll drone on for hours.  Ask Elanon, he knows all to well
what I mean.
	So just think of me as the friendly neighborhood death cleric.
Ahh, but I've rambled on too long, much longer than anything I need from
any of you.  I just wanted to make sure we did in fact have someone with
a clue about the wilderness or who was at least moderately stealthy,
since I tend to be rather poor at both.  I can cook, though.  Did I
mention that before?  Not that my last group of companions would ever
let me near the cooking pot.  They'd always gripe something like
'Are you outta your mind?  There's no way I'm gonna let a DEATH cleric
make dinner.'  Sheesh.  And they never let me be on watch by myself.
But we're all friends here, so I'm SURE you'd never even DREAM of
persecuting a poor little elf for his religion, right?"

	With this, Quaeros finally shuts up and sits down, to the great
relief of all.



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Johann Hibschman                 |  My brain hurts!  Sorry!  Shut up!
hibschmn@phoenix.princeton.edu   |  Sorry!  My brain hurts!  Shut up!
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