Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan)
Subject: [Karl] Ashes to ashes...
Message-ID: <1993May11.183653.22731@midway.uchicago.edu>
Date: Tue, 11 May 1993 18:36:53 GMT

"Uncle Karl?"  

Dougl knocked timidly on the door of Karl's cottage.  He visited Karl every
week or so, eagerly exchanging with him his experiences at St. Cuthbert
Military Academy for Karl's recollections of his adventures and journeys.
Usually Karl waited for Dougl on the steps of the Diplomatic Hostel, but
today the Hostel's butler, Paul, had directed Dougl to seek him in his
previous abode.

Hearing no response to his knocks, Dougl tried the handle of the door.  It
opened, and Dougl entered the quartermaster's modest domicile.  As always,
the room was filled with sacks of tools and other items, not cluttered but
prudently organized.  On Karl's writing desk lay an open book- a diary, 
next to which lay a quill and a pot of ink.  A battered but proudly polished
shield was displayed on one wall, flanked by a clumsy-looking ornamental 
sword and, on the other side, a simpler but more useable blade.

Laying in the bed was Karl.  He had risen his head when Dougl entered, and
reached for a pillow to support his back.  Although he smiled cheerfully
at his guest, his face was very pale and his normally round, robust 
cheeks looked sallow.  

"Uncle Karl!"  Dougl cried out.  "Are you all right?  Shall I go and fetch
the physician?"  

Karl smiled kindly.  "There will be no need.  A Brother Apothecary has 
already visited.  He gave me this elixir,"  he said, indicating a cup
of steaming tea.  "That, at least, will make things a little easier."
For a moment Karl's eyes lost focus and he stared blankly at the wall,
as if recalling a distant image.  

Dougl approached his former guardian.  "Then... you're about to leave
this world for the higher one?"  He used the euphemism favored by
one of his instructors at the paladin school.

Grinning weakly, Karl responded, "Is that how the men of the cloth
prefer to put it?  When I was a soldier back in Sanakin, oh, this must
have been thirty years ago, before a battle we used to talk about how we
would want to die.  Most of the men would bellow some courageous-sounding
nonsense about wanting to die with their boots on, and I would voice 
something similar, but always secretly I always hoped that when I died
it would be in the company of friends and loved ones."  He fingered the
crystal amulet around his neck.  "Only once did I ever change my mind
about that."

Removing the amulet from his neck, he held it out to Dougl.  "This 
crystal was given to me by a friend, Daxx.  Perhaps you remember him
from the Dragon's Inn a year ago?  This would have been about the
same time you had that unfotunate run-in with the Rameshanders.  He gave
it some kind of magical power, so that whenever I look into it I can see
my wife, Sirvia.  In a short while I will be separated from her no longer,
so I give this gift to you, Dougl.  Keep it well, and whenever you are 
lonely or mourn for friends or loved ones, this crystal will remind you
of them and comfort you."

"Whenever I see you, dear Dougl, I see so much of your father in you.  
Energetic, brave, ever eager for new experiences.  When I first met
Aron, he must have been about your age now.  He had left his family's farm
up in Vascondy and wanted to go out and see the world."  Karl chuckled.  
"He wouldn't have made it as far as Aragat if Rowan and I hadn't seen fit
to take him under our wing."  Reminiscing, Karl raised his eyes to the 
ceiling and grinned broadly.  "There he was, in the Tavern at Terse's 
Bridge, drowning his prudence in more mead than is proper for a lad of
that age, and loudly proclaiming all of these big ambitions."

Karl sighed, looking at Dougl.  "And he did have many a-splendid adventure,
and he saw many things, and did battle with fearsome monsters, and now he
lies prematurely buried in the side of some valley somewhere.  He had found
a wonderful girl with a good head on her shoulders, and yet he still 
insisted on going out and getting himself into trouble."

Wryly shaking his head, Karl continued.  "Your mother was right to remove
you from my house and send you off to school.  I thought I could teach
you a trade and set you on the safer path, but I couldn't keep my eye on
you all the time and I allowed you to get in trouble one too many times.
My failing, though, will be your improvement.  One of these days you'll
be ordained as a paladin- a pillar of the community and an example of
virtue."

"So, you listen to that mother Lyra of yours, and you take good care of her.
And watch out for yourself, too.  Dare ye to become a man.  A man whom other
men will be delighted to know, a leader whom others would gladly follow.
With each rising sun and every shining moon, wonder how ye can make yourself
more than you are."

"But in each glorious triumph do not let your chest swell with bloating
pride.  A chaplain I once knew used to say, 'All of the great rivers of the
lands flow into the sea, for it is lower than they.'  The lesson is that
there is strength in humility."

After resting for a few moments, Karl spoke again.  "Would you be so kind
as to hand me that teacup?  Thank you.  The Apothecary, when he came, said
that I burned my innards with too much strong drink over the years.  I
drank in celebration, and my carelessness cost me my wife.  I drank in
sorrow, and my carelessness cost me my health.  Now I drink to atone."

With these words Karl drained his teacup and settled back in bed.  His
throat twitched once, then was still as Karl's last breath escaped his
lips.  Dougl wept at the loss of his father-figure, mentor and friend.

Murmuring a simple but sincere prayer, Dougl honored the soul and memory
of Karl son of Karol, then rose to his feet to find a clergyman for the
funerary rites.  He exited the cottage and walked down the Arcade of
Fountains toward the Plaza of Glittering Steel.

In the Plaza, there was in progress a great civilization.  A military band
played and happy townspeople cheerfully mingled, danced, ate and sang 
songs.  With a brilliant flash and a puff of smoke a light shot up from
behind Glorshanned Keep and all beheld the pyrotechnic spectacle.

Happy birthday, Generica.

Rest in peace, Karl.  1992-1993.  You will be remembered.



-- 
Dennis Brennan
djb6@midway.uchicago.edu