Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn From: b_gerber@oz.plymouth.edu (Styx) Subject: Re: Walter (repost) Message-ID: <1994Jan26.193524.20075@oz.plymouth.edu> References: <1994Jan26.193428.19750@oz.plymouth.edu> <1994Jan26.193454.19874@oz.plymouth.edu> Date: Wed, 26 Jan 94 19:35:24 GMT This is a work of fiction, any resemblance to persons living or dead is one helluva shock to me! The Dragon's Inn (Walter's Spell) After wondering down the streets and back alleys of Generica for some small amount of time, the Stranger in the the grey cloak, riding the grey dappled mare pulled to a halt outside a large building. This building was a rather special building, and a large sign proclaimed it "THE DRAGON'S INN". Walter, deciding that a good stiff drink would do him good, cast about for a place to tie up his horse. Spying a tie rack across the street he headed over. Walter had tied up the horse, pulled out a soggy feed bag with what looked like cold oat meal inside out of his saddle bag and given it to the horse, and undid the saddle straps when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning around he at first noticed nobody, until he felt an insitant tugging at his cloak. Looking down he saw an elderly woman, dressed in light bronze colored and totally non-funtional looking chain mail. She was carrying a small bundle of scrolls and a quill pen, and was wearing an odd flat black hat with almost no rim and white trim. She continued to tug at his cloak insistantly. "Um...could I help you, er, madame?" asked the Stranger. "You're new to the city, 'eh?" she said as more of a statement. "Well...yes." said the Stranger. "Then you'd probably be interested to know that in this city we have laws, and these laws have to be obeyed." "Er, yes, I imagine they would, now...yes. Um." "I'm gonna have to give you a ticket for an illegally parked horse. " "What?" managed the Stranger. "A ticket, you didn't put any money in the meter." said the small lady as she scribbled furiously onto one of her pieces of parchment. "What's a meter?" asked the Stranger. His answer was a tearing sound. "Here, this is for you." said the short woman, handing him a piece of parchment. Walter read it carefully, it said: PARKING VIOLATIONS OF HORSES AND CARTE This tickete is issued by the city of Councile of Rulers and Merchants; City of Generica. the Accused was: Parked in a space where metere was expired. the Accused will be fined: 1 silver penny, payable at any guard station with this ticket. X_________________________ The small, garishly dressed woman said "You got to sign by the 'X' there. The stranger who appeared rather confused at all this hesitantly took the quill pen, and signed his name by the 'X'. The short lady took the parchment back and made a small note on another piece of parchment. "Your name's Waiter?" "No, it's 'Walter', and I have a magic knife. Would you like to see it?" The short lady stopped writing and eyed Walter suspiciously. "Listen Waiter, I'll have you know that I'm highly trained in defending my womanly virtues. Don't try any funny stuff with me mister, or I'll rip your balls off. Got it?" The little woman began to wave her quill pen about in a threatening manner. Walter stared at her for a moment, and decided that it would be wise to back off a bit both physicaly and verbally. He took a few steps back, bumping into his horse and said "Ah...sorry M'am, no offence meant?" "That's more like it." said the short woman. "You'd be wise to put some money into the meter before you go anywhere, or you'll get another ticket." As she said this, she pointed to a small metallic box on a wooden pole set back about two feet from the tie bar. Then the small woman 'Harumphed', turned her back on Walter and walked off. Walter walked up to it to examine it closer. There was a small slot, some sort of lever. A flashing sign, traced in neon purple magical writing hung above the box. It read "VIOLATION". Walter fumbled in his shirt pocket for a bit, and came up with a half copper. He eyed the small slot suspiciously, and inserted the coin, which hung half in, half out of the slot. The sign changed above the meter to "TWIST LEVER". Walter, being an Adventurer in the making was always wary of twisting anything. He drew his sword slowly with his right hand, and twisted the lever with his left hand. The coin disapeared, as if magically sucked into the slot. The small sign above the box changed to read "VIOLATION." With a scream, Walter flung himself into the attack. Dag, having just drunk his dinner, staggered over to Mave and clapped him on the shoulder. "C'mon Mave, time to...to...go back to work!" He said triumphantly. "Hokay," said Mave, "Lemme just finish this last beer." Mave tipped the glass to his mouth, and then tipped his mouth to the heavens. He finished of the beer with a smack of his lips. The two friends walked rather uncertainly towards the front door of the Inn. They had both worked at the warehouses for many years, and had become quite close friends, or at least drinking partners over that time. Dag opened the door, and they stepped out onto the street. They were greeted by the sight of a small, young looking man, industriously hacking away at the post of a parking meter. "Wasat?" asked Mave. "Looks like a feller attacking a parking meter." replied Dag. "Well who's winnin?" "'S hard to tell from here..." "Who's 'tacking it?" asked Mave. "Dunno, looks like one of those Admentist, no, I mean Adventures or som'thin'." "Oh, that 'splains it." said Mave. "He don't look like he's doin' to good with it." "Well, les give 'im a hand!" The Dragons Inn was crowded for a Thursday mid-afternoon. Adventurers and Heros of all sorts struggled to get up to the bar, while myriad corner tables were cluttered with shifty looking people in dark clothing. The door to the Inn swung open slowly, followed by a clicking sound which is the sound that three hundred sets of eyes make when they focus on the same direction. The room fell silent. A grey figure was outlined by the fast failing light of a cloudy early evening. For a moment time seemed to hang still as all eyes peered at the figure, who was carrying...something. The figure stepped into the smokey room, and closed the wind-lashed door behind him. Through the silence, he walked wetly toward the bar, conceling some sort of bulky object beneath his cloak. His sword completely failed to glitter, gleam, or seem in any way menacing as it hung loose in it's scabbard. Several wizards stared hard at it. The wet stranger made his way through the frozen tableu of Heros and Adventurers, who had ceased heading for the bar, and had begun sizing up this stranger. The stranger came up to the bar, where he was greeted by the barkeep, who was holding a large wooden cudgel in his left hand, hidden beneath the bar. "What can I get you, stranger?" he asked aprehensively. "The names..." It should be noted that this is the time in all would be adventurers and heros lives which they begin to prove themselves, to show other people their mettle. Take for instance Brawn DragonTooth, who recieved his name after single handedly preforming impromptu dental surgery on a large flying lizard. At even the merest mention of his name, large flying lizards for miles around cringe. Or there is Damian NunBiter, who's story is a bit more complex. As we shall see, a persons name in this realm is the seat of their future and reputation. "...Walter." replied Walter, "And I'd like a beer. Er, please." The tension in the room eased slightly. "What else do they call you, er, Walter?" prompted the barkeep in the prescribed fasion. The tension in the room became so tangible as to be almost visible. "Uh...nothing." Replied Walter. The tension in the room lifted like a gas. Men and women began to drink and chat together again, and the thieves, assasins, wanderers and adventurers discussing bussiness proposals went back to their dark shady tables in the corner. "O.k., son, I'll get you your beer, but you've got to show me the color of your money." Walter reached into his cloak in a manner usually reserved for would be bank robbers. All conversation stopped. Silence took over once again. Walter pulled out the battered and dented box that had once been a parking meter. He shook it once and several copper coins fell to the bar. They rolled around noisily and all of them came up heads. "Nice parking meter you got there, " said a voice that was distinctly more female than any voice that had talked to Walter in quite some time. "did you kill that one all by yourself?" The silence broke apon that comment like a wave against rocks. Walter turned and beheld a young looking woman, dressed mostly in black, perched on the bar stool next to where he was currently standing. She was smiling a smile that made Walter feel as if his stomach had taken a break and headed down into his left boot. "Urm." Managed Walter. At this time, something wierd and wonderful happened. Several forces aligned at once, got into a quick conversation with themselves, and all masterfully entered into the womans head. It was possibly one of the more powerful spells, if not one of the only spells ever succesfully set of within the Inn itself, and every person who had any magical sense at all failed to notice anything out of the ordinary. The woman smiled at Walter, and said "My name's Leandro, what's yours?" There was a clatter, followed by a dull 'thunking' sound. These are the sounds normally accepted as being produced by a metal sword in a scabbard hitting a hard floor, immediately followed by its owner. As it just so happened, these sounds were absolutely right on cue. -- _______________________________________________________________________________ "This is funny, really. Imagine how Jesus would freak if a Jesus freak handed him one of those dog-eared pamphlets." ---Harlan Ellison _Blood stone_ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------