From: albert@chain.ssctr.bcm.tmc.edu (Rick Jones) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [GATM] Krupp [Low City] The Game's Afoot Date: 15 Jun 1993 20:32:48 GMT Message-ID: <1vlblg$2qs@gazette.bcm.tmc.edu> A week or so had passed since that strange party. 'Raelf and ar'Elya helped me dig out a few hundred gold from the cellar of the warehouse, and ar'Elya, in her Lady Ale form (Bog, help me, I was getting used to their wierdness) arranged me getting a new office. 'Raelf wanted to decorate it, and put in all kinds of magical geegaws and grot. I put my foot down. I didn't want my clients to be intimidated by the decor. Heck, I didn't want to be intimidated by the decor. I did let him put in a chair that would alter itself to fit the heinie of the sitter, but no "automatic detection suite", no "maxwells-demon-powered refrigerated beverage dispenser", and especially "no dna-and-truename-keyed automatic skip tracer", whatever that was. He did do a nice job on the advertisement for the Dragon's Inn bulletin board. I realized that I was going to have to change my clientelle, thanks to me being dead and stuff. I also managed to do some looking into Ale's request. Something _was_ funny in Low City. I wasn't laughing though. A few important gangstas had turned up dead recently. Now, in Generica, when something is supposedly impossible, it means that it'll happen nine times out ten, but five suicides seems a bit odd. I guessed my shapechanger or whatever from the Warehouse was keeping busy. The problem was that I didn't see who was gaining from it. In fact, it seemed like nobody was gaining from it. I supposed that the killer might be a rogue demon, like those poozers from the party, but 'Raelf said they were taken care of. Besides, this started before the party. And there were some other things that didn't make sense. There were strange things turning up missing. Fabric, softwoods, heck, someone nicked a few miles of string and thread. I asked 'Raelf if he thought a mage was behind this, since I heard they needed funky stuff for their dprlld. He said no. My reverie was broken, when there was a knock at the door. "S'open," I said. In came Zip, with Lotus perched on his shoulder. I had hired the kid to be my eyes and ears downcity. He slept in the corner of the office sometimes and I paid him a copper a week. Yeah, I'm a big softy. You got a problem with that? "Any news?" I asked. "Neg. No new 'jects been scammed. No new deaders. The bug got neg scan too." The "bug" hopped off Zip's shoulder and sat down in the ashtray on my desk, and started smoking. "Ahh, feels good," he said, smoke wafting from his mouth, nose and ears. "Nothing new, boss. Tings are quiet." I walked over to a wall map of Generica 'Raelf tacked up. He got grumpy when I told him to keep it flat, and not to update itself, but I was firm. There were a bunch of pins stuck in, where the thefts had occured, and different colored pins where the murders had occured. I had stared at it for days, and there still wasn't a pattern. Lotus looked over at me, and blew a few smoke rings. "So, you got a clue, shamus?" "Nope, does this look like a demon's name, or a magic rune or something?" I asked. Zip was looking at the wall map. It took a while to explain maps to him, but once he got it, he took to it like wildfire. I was debating teaching him to read. Maybe later, I thought. "Nope," said Lotus. "Scans like shinys on a Mapuv Generica. Makes sense like Charlie," added Zip. "Well, foo." Whatever was going on, it was confined to Low City, mostly. But some new pins were popping up on the edges of it, moving towards Merchant's Hill. It was growing, but chaoticly. "Maybe it's a nutcase, like the Gutt Man." Zip looked up from a somewhat brown apple he had produced from a pocket. "Neg Gutt Man. Gutty's ick, but Gutty's a shiv. No nog. He whacks kids cuz they're too small to fight. Most kids anyways. The mister you scanfor has muchnog, else you'd whack him, Mister." Zip had a high impression of my deductive abilities. And I confess I didn't discourage it. Lotus snickered at that, and went back to blowing smoke squares. "How about we look at it from the theft point of view. My guts tell me the thefts and the murders are related. If by nothing else, than the same guy's doing it. So, what can you make from those things?" Lotus and Zip looked at me expectantly. "Some help from the audience might be helpful." "Beats me, boss," said Lotus. Zip just looked at me expectantly. Okay, so I had to do all the thinking. "Well, suppose someone were to make something with it. They'd sell it, right?" They nodded at me. I was on a roll. Or maybe a bagel. "So, we look and see what's new for sale in Low City. And maybe in Merchant's Hill. Zip, you ask around. Lotus 'n me are going shopping." Zip did his best impression of a Guardman's salute. * * * In Low City, a lone man sits at a table lit my a single black candle. He carves a figure of a woman in wood, then paints it with bright purples and greens in the pattern of a harlequin. When he is done, he lays it down on a black pillow. He throws back the hood on his cloak. "Another plaything for you, my Queen," he says. The smoke from the candle wafts towards the the wood figure. It covers the doll's face, and then races up the "mouth" and "nose" of the figure. The doll sits up, and looks at the man. Cyndai, satisfied with his work, chants. <> The doll hops down off the table and walks out of the room. * * * "Coolness." "Whatcha got, Bav?" "Spif 'ject. Looks like a Missus." "Lemme scan." "No, 's mine." "Aw, c'mon." "NO!" "OW! Why the hell'd you hit me? Hey, cut it out Bav. Cut it out. Put that down. I didn't want the 'ject. Put down your kni-" ...... "Spiff 'ject. All mine." HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA I LOVE YOU. YOU LOVE ME. WE'RE A HAPPY FAMILY. ADMIN: [For the bulletin board] Grand Re-Opening: Faraway Investigations. 324A Blue Moon Ave. (one block west of Ardrey's) "No case is too big for Faraway." Rates Negotiable. -- Rick Jones Dear PBS, After seeing Jurassic Park, I'm albert@bcm.tmc.edu more convinced than ever Barney should be Systems Support Center eating those kids. Voice: 713-798-7352 -Foxtrot (6/13/93)