Date: Fri, 17 Sep 1993 14:22:39 EDT From: The Dreamer Message-ID: <93260.142239ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu> Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Welcome] Enter Martin, Accountant to the Cosmos The door to the Dragon's inn slowly creeked open. Through it walked a man in a cheap business suit. He was overweight, middle aged, and looked very wet at the moment. The Rabble, expecting another universal hero, let out an audible groan of disappointment. The newcomer, looked around the common room, shook his head, and then headed for the bar. "Okay, I'll make this easy on you: where am I and how do I get outa here?" Rowan looked him in the eye and said through a forced smile, "You're in the Dragon's Inn. If you want to leave, I think you know where the door is." Then he resumed polishing the bartop with a pine-scented rag. The newcomer sighed, hopped on a barstool, and apologized, "I'm sorry barkeep, but I've had a rough life --" "Don't we all?" Littlefair interrupted. "Yes, I suppose. Anyway, I have no money, no friends, and no idea of where I am. Could you help me out? My name is Martin." Martin stuck his hand out in greeting. After pausing for a moment, Rowan shook it. "If you have no money and want something from this bar, I heard that Luthor is trading stories for meals IF you have a story to tell." "Stories? I have a million. Now, who's this Luthor fellow?" Rowan pointed to a central table where a man with gold-tinted skin sat in the midst of a large group of people. His dark clothing and BLACK cloak suggested that he was either in the stealing or magic business. Probably magic since his cloak seemed to flow so smoothly into the shadows that it was impossible to tell where the cloak ended and darkness began. Martin squared his shoulders, brushed the dust off his suit, and walked over to the group. Currently, they were listening to a rather large man in loose off-white clothing speak of his adventures. After a few minutes, the golden-skinned man noticed Martin and motioned him over. When he arrived, the golden-skinned man stood and bowed gracefully. "I am Luthor Anside of the Shadows. If you share a your name and a story, I'll let you join my table for a meal and a glass of wine." He attempted an awkward imitation of Luthor's bow and then introduced himself, "I'm Martin. I'd tell you my last name, but I've forgotten it." "Were you injured in some way?" Luthor asked. "No, it's just been so long since having a last name mattered that I've forgotten it. Never mind. I'll take you up on your offer for a meal though. My throat is dusty and I haven't had a good glass of wine since...well, a long time." Luthor ordered a round of drinks for the table. When they arrived, Martin cleared his throat, adjusted his suit, and began: "Okay, where to start? From the beginning I suppose, it's as good a place as any. Alright..urp..oh, excuse me, good vintage. "Well, my life really started going downhill when my parents discovered that I was a mathematics prodigy at the age of four. They rushed me off to the best school in the country where I spent the next few years learning calculus. It was all very exciting for me until they tried teaching me science. For some reason, I could understand the mathematics behind it, but not the concepts themselves. "The school officials concluded that I'd never do anything spectacular or profound in my life. Everything I could do could be done better and faster by a computer --" "What's a computer?" one of the group interrupted. "Huh? Oh yes, I guess you guys don't have them yet. Well, they're like um...boxes that are really good at math. Don't ask me how they work, like I said, I could never handle science. "Okay, so the school officials handed me back to my parents and told them to guide me to an occupation with a lot of number crunching, so they sent me away to be an accountant. --" "What's an accountant?" asked the same slightly confused listener. "It's like a money lender or a book keeper. Um...oh yes, I was in college at the age of 15 or so taking all these high level accounting classes. The only problem was that I wasn't challenged. It seemed that everything they taught me in class was common sense. "I graduated at the age of 16 and immediately began working on my doctorate. I finished my coursework in two semesters and then began looking for a subject for my thesis. My advisor, who occasionally helped the physics department with their records, suggested that I go over there and help them straighten things out. "I went over and started looking at their notes...what a mess. They had research data that was completely unorganized, their methods were invalid, and their conclusions were drawn from faulty statistical tests. "I began working with a graduate student full time in an effort to fix things. He tried telling me what the numbers meant...something about Grand Unified Something or Other. In all honesty, I didn't care. I just hated to see their reecords in such disorder. "After four months, I finally had things sorted. The final analysis still had to be finished, but I had some financial problems and couldn't spare the time. I dropped out of school and began working as a professional accountant. I intended to go back when I had enough money and spare time, but that never happened. "Twenty-some years later, I was still working for the same company. I was offered a few promotions, but they involved dealing with people and I'm not a 'people person'. Anyway, I fell into a mid-life crisis. All I could think about was the 'good ole days' when I was in college and doing something important. "I dug through my attic and came upon copies of the research that I was doing for the physics department. For the next few months, I poured over it, trying to finsish the final analysis. When I did, I was left with a slight problem; the numbers didn't add up. "I checked and rechecked the numbers. I wasn't sure what they meant, but I knew how they fit together and that's all I cared about. On one side, there was the theoretical data based on some pretty revolutionary ideas, but from the way the numbers clicked, I knew they were right. The other side of the equation was data taken by some pretty complex instruments concerning the actual working of the universe. "So there I sat, in a pile of computer print out, very frustrated and confused. Finally, I gave up. I said 'Well, I guess the universe must be wrong.' There was this great big popping sound and I passed out. "When I came to, I noticed that there was something different about the computer data. The numbers had changed so everything did make sense. I was so excited that I looked up the physics grad student (now a full professor) and showed him the results. He used it and won an award for his paper on 'Quantumn Accounting: The Solution To The Grand ...something' of course I didn't get the credit for the research, but he bribed me with enough money that I could retire comfortably. "I moved to a warmer part of the country and decided to lose a bit of weight. I checked myself into a health place and began working out, but it seemed that no matter how much I exercised or how little I ate, nothing changed. I also became quite aware of some other bizarre oddities: my hair and fingernails stopped growing. I tried to cut them even with clippers, but it didn't work. I paniced a bit and went to a doctor. He tried needles, radiation, heat, a chainsaw, and nothing could even mark me. "At first, I thought this was great. I bacame an instant international hero, 'the incredible indestructible man'. Then, as the years passed and the scientific community couldn't get *anywhere* research on what happened to me, they began to look at me as more of a tool. First, I was paid an enormous amount of money to fix the rods in a nuclear reactor, then they asked me to hang out in a supercollider, THEN they told me to open wide so they could practice cold fusion in my intestines." Martin paused to take a drink of wine and noticed that he had lost some of the medieval types in his pouring of technical terms. "In other words, they mistreated and used me." A group of understanding "aaah's" issued forth, so Martin continued, "Okay, so to make a long story short (too late), I have gone from planet to planet and in my existence, I've been used as a battering ram, worshiped as the god of immortality, used as reactor shielding, and flung at castle walls in a catapult. I've lived through the destruction of several planets and been in the center of two suns when they blew up. All that I've been able to keep during all that time is the clothes that you see now. I was wearing them when the 'big pop', as I call it, happened and you know what the worst part is?" Several heads shook no. "I have this hangnail on my little finger that bugs the living crap out of me and I can't even cut it off!" Martin held up his finger to illustrate. It was met with a few gasps of horror and a few snorts of disbelief. Luthor sat back in his chair and patted Martin on the back, "So you're immortal eh? Well, my friend, you've come to the right place. Nexus is full of them. Maybe if you're lucky, one of them could help you out --" "I doubt it." Luthor raised his glass in a toast, "Martin, welcome to Generica!" Love and Peace and Arguing With The Universe, -The Dreamer- ADMIN: Martin was created solely for humor's sake. He is not to be taken seriously. He was not created to be the most powerful character in APDI. He will not be doing any serious adventuring/questing.