Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: ae771@Freenet.carleton.ca (Bronwyn Boltwood) Subject: [JOI] Back at Camp..... Message-ID: Date: Sat, 25 Sep 1993 12:44:56 GMT I heard footsteps coming from the camp. Fast and heavy. Who -- or what -- could that be? He had stopped, and I continued playing, slowly crescendoeing. And then he was off again, crashing through the underbrush towards the brook. I cannot think what could be drawing him there. The cave was too close, much too close.... I must follow this fool and keep him out of trouble. I raise the hood of my daycloak, it could make my job easier if She cannot see me. I continue playing, hoping to draw him away from there....NOW I wish I had allowed them to charm my pipes with beguilement. The idiot's heading into the cave! And I can't stop something THAT size! Deities be merciful. It's hunting season again and we have a party of strangers there. They'll be drawn like flies to Her. What fool woman let these men set off by themselves? Every woman knows that we are here to keep the men from foolishly killing themselves off. I've got to go warn the rest of the party -- but that one man is certainly lost. How could I EVER forget about hunting season......but you forget dangers you aren't affected by. She'll devour them, there haven't been men here in years. Such a stupid thing for me to do..... I walked off towards the camp. I knew that I'd be forced to do what I hadn't wanted to do. I simply hate to barge in on people, it seems so rude. So I try to have them ask me to join them. But sometimes it feels awfully fake. I lowered the hood, and played a loud, easily recognizeable tune on my pipes. Everyone was looking at me, these strangers. Looking at me as if I'd appeared out of nowhere, which was close to the truth. Even with the hood down, a daycloak camoflauges you and with the hood up, renders you invisible. A very handy item. My dwarf friend Enniskill gave it to me. At any rate, here is everyone staring at me as if they were madmen and I a dream. The expressions on their faces are simply incredible. One speaks, slowly: "Who ARE you? Where did you come from?" "That's what I wanted to ask you. I am Peregrine Wanderer, and this is my homeland, the land of Isle. But before I ask you the same questions, I must inform you: a man from your party has been taken by Matarla. He'll be used and then roasted over her hearth if we don't rescue him. And no, it will not do you any good to run after him by yourselves, you will simply get caught. Only females are immune to the lure's effects because she doesn't want to capture them. So we have some work to do and I am the only one I know of who can travel freely in this area so I could be pretty useful, gentlemen. In addition, by the looks of you, I am also the only one with even a basic knowledge of this land. My wanderings may finally be able to serve someone in good stead." I suddenly jump to another topic. "I see a pot over the fire. I don't know about you but I am hungry. And I would be honoured to partake of a meal with you. Now, who are you all and from whence do you hail? It would make things so much easier if I know who and what you are." I walk over towards the pot and look in. Small game stew, which shouldn't be bad, but it could use a few herbs. "I was right. You would have a superb stew if you merely knew how to forage around here. Over there there is a patch of herbs which, except for the red leafed one which is poisonous, add some very good flavour; and Red Hair over there is sitting on some truffles which are wonderful boiled up with meat and herbs. I therefore request that Red Hair stop sitting on our dinner." BB!PW -- +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-<*>-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+ | Bronwyn Boltwood ae771@freenet.carleton.ca near Ottawa Ontario Canada Me! | | The world's confusing but it holds joy too. Do your best to find the joy. | +-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-<*>-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+