From: bingchar@cwis.isu.edu (BINGHAM_CHARLES_D)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: New Arrival
Date: 10 May 1993 19:19:19 -0600
Message-ID: <1smuun$r4h@cwis.isu.edu>

     It was a typical evening in Generica, there hadn't been too much unusual
excitement for the town.  Of course unusual excitement for most isn't much
for a town that is home to the Dragons Inn.  The guards at the gate were
just settling in for another long and hopfully boring night at work. 
Shops were closing and the citizens were either heading for home or to
thier favorite bar.
     Watching all this activity from what could be considered a secluded
alley is a man.  There isn't anything particularly interesting about him
and that is probably the reason nobody has noticed him.  As the sun starts
to set, the man stirs from his position and begins to make his way toward
the famed Dragons Inn.  He makes the trip with no difficulty as if he had
been thier several times before, though this is his first visit.  Upon
arrival he watches from the other side of the street, as several of the
inn's patrons enter.  After they are inside and the traffic in the area
has died down.  The man crosses the street and enters the inn.  
     Within seconds of entering the common room he is overcome with a
sense of security.  Looking to the bard, he nods, more to himself than to
anyone else.  A few quick strides later he is at a table not a dark
secluded corner as some might think, but a well lite area near one of the
outer walls.  Readjusting his dark green cloak, he sits at the table with
only his sword making a sound as it jostles his black suit of chainmail. 
Settling his back to the wall he signals the waitress that he is ready for
some service.  
     She quickly arrives.  Leaning close to her the man whispers, "I would
like a mug of your finest Tiberian Ale."  He then hands her a small green
stone, the size of a pea.  "I hope this emerald, will be sufficient for my
needs."  The waitress nods and quickly fetches the man's order.
     Shortly after this, another man, dressed quit similarly to the first
enters and walks directly to the first man's table.  Without even sitting,
he leans over and whispers, not very effectivly in the man's ear, "Sir, we
have done as you have ordered, all members of the legion are now awaiting
your return.  Good luck, and may Pandor guide you."  The second man then
turns and leaves the inn.  
     Once again alone, the stranger sips his ale, watches the crowd, and
enjoys the music provided by the talented bard.

-- 
Bingo                         Beauty is only skin deep,        
bingchar@ba.isu.edu           Ugly goes right to the bone.