Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: arsmith@nyx.cs.du.edu (Alan Smith)
Subject: [NTY] Hangover.
Message-ID: <1993May29.032454.8756@mnemosyne.cs.du.edu>
Date: Sat, 29 May 93 03:24:54 GMT

Palandun awoke a couple hours later, asking where he was.
  "In the Temple of Ilmater." the person over him said.  This prompted Palandun
to ask an ill concieved question:
  "Who?"
  "Ilmater, the goddess of healing.  Surely you've heard of her."
  "Sorry, my religious education was kinda slow.  Besides, I'm not from
around here."
  "Your accent gave that away.  Just for our records, would you mind telling
us how you came to be in...ill health?"
  "I ran into a drainer.  Undead which stave off the rotting process by sapping
one's health.  Where's my sword?"
  "Outside the temple of Besht.  That's where you were found.  Please lie down!"
This last was directed at Palandun's attempt to rise.
  "Can't." Palandun explained.  "City's under attack.  Gotta find Karl.  Ah,
*&%$#!, he's dead.  Do me a favor."  He grabbed the acolyte of the kind
goddess by the lapel, "send a runner to Melwis, tell him that the Bismanian
ambassador requires an urgent audience with him.  I'll follow directly."  
Palandun lifted and harched out the door as fast as he could.

As a lieutenant in the Fourth Orc War, Palandun's platoon had often been        
assigned to scouting duty.  It was thusly, while scouting a path through
some marshes, that he had last encountered drainers.  The platoon had been
forced away and everyone had taken wounds.  They had left their transport at
the camp, and so had to march the five miles back.  Palandun remembered it
as the worst walk of his life.

He remembered the stroll to the temple of Besht and then to the town square as  
the second worst.  It takes a day or two to recover fully from a Drainer, and
he'd reckoned he had two hours.  The experience was rather similar to being 
forced to do calesthenics at a rock concert, with a hangover.

After using up his rhetorical skills in obtaining an audience with Melwis the
wise, who would much rather enjoy the fireworks from his pavillion in the town
square than be bothered by some KID who claimed to be the ambassador from a 
country he'd only heard of once or twice, especially when the kid insisted on
doomsaying in a particularly ludicrous way.  Palandun decided to be very
frank with the aged, kind-looking man sitting on what appeared to be a throne
under his tent.  A particularly spectacular firework went off and the aged
man cheered.
  "Melwis," Palandun said, after the cherring had died down sufficently, "Your
city is under attack."
  "So you are the Bismanian ambassador." Melwis said, looking rather graver than
when he had been watching the light show, "I suppose you'll tell me that only
you can help next.  Indebit my people to your people forever, and all that.  I
must admit, you look younger than I had thought you would."
  "I am the only person from my country legitimately on the continent.  My      
people are at least two months away, if they could be persuaded to come at all.
I personally will do what I can, but we have a saying back home: 'Lives are 
beyond price, and must be freely exchanged.'  You owe me nothing.  As for my
being young, it may be said that you are older than I thought, and I had hoped
not to have to deal with a single ruler at all."
  "Are you implying that our Ruler Melwis the Wise is old and infirm?"  An aide
stepped up to ask, "would you commit treason before his very nose?"
  "He's not my ruler." Palandun replied.  "And if you can't speak ill of your
DIC, how does he know when he screws up?  BUT, I didn't come here to swap barbs.
I'll take mine back if you'll take yours."  Palandun hated doing this, but it
had to be done.  He reminded himself that there were places where they took your
word for who you were, and trusted you so long as you trusted them.
  Melwis considered.  "We will hear the ambassadors missive, and decide whether
he is too young later."  Palandun considered also, and decided to take the
half a loaf.
  "There are evil forces invading the city.  My guess is that they are either
already inside or just outside the gates."  He explained about his encounter
with the drainer, and how drainers tended to hang out with other, more sinester
beings.
  "You were in a swordfight, and yet not wounded."  The aide said, beginning
the cross examination.
  "In most of my previous fights, blades were poisoned.  Besides, I was in
the temple of Ilmater but ten minutes ago."
  "The messenger has verified this, but he said that you suffered not a mark,
merely unconsciousness.  It was initially thought that you suffered from 
overmuch drink."  In answer to this Palandun breathed on the aide.  "No alcohol.
Halitosis, but no alcohol."
  "It is our judgement that we cannot make a decision without further evidence.
The city guard is already in a state of readiness, but if the Bismanian
Ambassador would be able to bring us some corroborating evidence, then we would
be better able to judge his plea." Melwis said, apparently growing tired of
the debate.  "You are excused."

Palandun set out on the town to find some more evidence.  'Cute' the thought,
passing a troupe of circus performers.
  "Tell your fortune, sir?" a short, largish woman asked.
  "Huh?" Palandun replied destractedly.  "Oh, no thanks."
  "You may be a rich man!" She said,  "OR reunited with your loved ones."
  "Don't care much for money.  And all my loved ones are in one place which
I can fairly easily get to.  Listen, I don't begrudge anyone as...entertaining
a job as this, but would you please allow me to discover my future my way?"

Something about the woman irked Palandun, and he vanished before it manifested
itself any more.