Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Path: netcom.com!netcomsv!decwrl!elroy.jpl.nasa.gov!swrinde!cs.utexas.edu!geraldo.cc.utexas.edu!portal.austin.ibm.com!awdprime.austin.ibm.com!clayton From: clayton@austin.ibm.com (Clayton Colwell) Subject: Vondi hits the Inn Originator: clayton@magus.austin.ibm.com Sender: news@austin.ibm.com (News id) Message-ID: Date: Mon, 25 Oct 1993 21:32:06 GMT Reply-To: archmage@vnet.ibm.com Organization: IBM Advanced Workstations & Systems Lines: 222 =========================================================================== ADMIN: I want to thank Steve Hutchison for his help, his comments, and his suggestions. I do not, at this time, know if Vondi will stay a PC. If I have enough time to keep him active and alive, then he will keep PC status. Otherwise, he *may* become a NPC fixture at the Inn (or perhaps a fresh corpse in an alley: who knows?). =========================================================================== Vondi slammed into the wall of the alley, the impact of the rough stone walls knocking the breath from his lungs. He inhaled in large gasping sobs, the harsh sound echoing down the stretch of walls closing in on the young man. He bit his lip, hoping the pain would shock him into quieter breathing. He was *so* *close* now: he'd made it out of Low Town, through the gauntlet of the Rats, the Red Knives, and the T-Crocs. He taken a cut in the arm from a Red Knife, but a swift kick to the stomach had left the gang member moaning in the dirt, and he'd dodged the rest by hopping two fences and getting the attention of some city Guards. As they closed in to stop the ruckus, Vondi'd ducked into the sewer for five minutes of nervous waiting in the dank darkness. Lucky no t-crocs had been hanging around. His eyes darted left and right as his breathing slowed and eased, checking out the entrances to the alley. No one had coming nosing around. Great! Just 4 blocks to his final goal. He wiped his hands on his shirt, the tattered brown fabric now smudged and grimed by dust and offal. Now would come the hardest part: crossing the Plaza of Glittering Steel. Here he was at his most visible, yet, if he were lucky, his safest as well: his would-be captors wouldn't dare risk a confrontation there. He absently brushed his long black hair out of his face and ran his fingers through its oily tangle. He straightened his dirty shirt as best he could: he'd be able to pass for one of the beggars that ghosted their way along the edges of the Plaza as long as he could hide the knife cut. Hesitantly, he stepped out of the alley and nonchalantly sauntered off toward the Plaza, just a 2-minute walk away. He lost himself in the throng of people passing along Dragon's Lane, the masses of ordinary townfolk going about the business of walking and shopping and dealing, the few nobles venturing out for a bit of excitement, the youngsters jostling and playing and occasionally thieving, the beggars seeking some paltry token or crust of bread. He threaded his way east, people drawing back from his ragtag clothes and sharp stench, the result of a week without washing and that brief trip in the sewers. He soon reached the Plaza of Glittering Steel. Its openness took in the blue of the sky, and the brightness of the midday sun glowed on the shiny cobblestones in the center of the square. Vondi breathed easier as the closeness of the city's buildings drew away from the square, the wide expanse like a promise of freedom. He edged his way around the Plaza, still somewhat loath to abandon the ready escape routes of the surrounding edifices. His heart quickened as he saw the continuation of Dragon Lane not far from him now. Soon, soon he'd be safe, or at least safer. His excitement turned to anxiety as he felt a sharp prick in his lower back. "Ah, ah, don't even think of turning around." He stopped his turn before it started, as the prick sharpened in intensity. He winced, feeling a small drop of blood well and run slowly down his back. "Better," he heard, followed by a raspy chuckle. "Why don't you head toward the alley on your right? I'm feeling a bit...*crowded*." As they walked slowly over: "What made you think you could escape, V? If you thought life was bad then, you'll see *death* as a healthy alternative *now*!" Another raspy chuckle. "Not that *you'll* have any say in the matter." "What you be wantin' with Shiv like me?" murmured Vondi. "*You* not from de Low Town, what *you* know 'bout our biz? What *you* want from me?" His anxiety made his voice shake. "*Don't* play at me!" hissed the voice. "I'm not as ignorant as your Low Town colleagues. No more talk! Move your scrawny hide, damn you!" Vondi's leg suddenly snapped up in back. His right heel came up smartly, catching the abductor between his legs. His codpiece turned out to be more decorative than protective, as he sagged to the ground, moaning and clutching himself. The dagger clattered on the cobblestones as Vondi ran from the gasps of pain behind him, shouting, "Me movin' *now*, spitlick!" He began to sprint for Dragon Lane, dodging old women with canes and younger women with parcels. In his dash, he noticed two black-cloaked rakes his his direction. "Damn! He got *boys* wit' him," he muttered. He dodged behind a slow group of tourists gawking at the chase and ripped off his shirt. Holding it loosely between his hands, he maneuvered about the startled group, weaving among them as they milled around. The two rakes approached from opposite sides, trying to entrap him and cut off further escape. One held a knife expertly, while the other sported a heavy chain weighted at the ends. Vondi kept skittering back and forth while the two closed. When they both were about ten feet away, he broke pattern and rushed the ruffian with the chain, who raised it slightly and began to swing it in a short arc. As he aimed to toss the chain about Vondi's legs, he was stopped by Vondi plowing into him and snagging the shirt about his head. Vondi got up quickly, grabbed the muffled man by the cloak, and swung him bodily into the path of the knife-wielder. The knife flew one direction, the knife-wielder another, and Vondi sprinted off in a third, toward the Plaza exit. He spied the sign of the Dragon's Inn just ahead. Looking behind, he saw the two scramble up and move to give chase. He put on an extra burst of speed, scrambled up the doorstep, grabbed the latch of the entrance, and stumbled full-tilt into the Inn. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- In the Dragon's Inn, Rowan paused a moment to catch his breath. The crowds in the Inn of late had been tremendous. Business was booming, but he was hard-pressed to keep the kitchen and cellars stocked. Marux and Bob were helping out, as usual, but Rowan worried that they couldn't keep up with the steady pace of orders. Some of his customers were getting a bit rowdy. Luckily, the regulars were patient, and even helped soothe the mumblings of some of the patrons who were feeling slighted, but still the air was tense, and Rowan didn't like to test the anti-violence magicks surrounding the Inn too heavily; best that they avert the *major* problems. He saw Serene making her way about with an *enormous* tray of goblets and tankards, skillfully dodging a pinch while giving a friendly, yet still mildly reproving glance at the miscreant. Even *her* steady bouyant nature was being tested by the press of drinkers. Sighing, Rowan stood up, barcloth in hand, and mopped up the spill from a tipped drink. Owner he may be, but Rowan worked hard to maintain the Inn's sterling reputation. As he folded the cloth and made ready to answer a patron's polite summons, the door to the Inn crashed open. Rowan looked up sharply to see a gangly bare-chested youth, not more than 15, burst wildly through the opening at full speed. Forseeing a potential disaster, Rowan moved quickly and yardarmed the boy just before he'd have hit a particularly large table of sailors fresh from the coasts of Ydione. As they looked on in boozy amusement, the boy lay in the crook of Rowan's arm, whooping in his attempts to draw breath. As Rowan looked down at the coughing boy, he noticed blood dripping on the floor of the Inn. Alarmed, Rowan examined the boy: the impact hadn't been *that* hard. The boy's nose turned out to be blood-free, but, looking about his form more carefully, Rowan discovered the open wounds on his back and arm. Fetching a fresh cloth out from his apron, he wiped away the thin trails of blood from both wounds and gingerly blotted each with a clean corner. He looked at the grime coating the boy and shook his head: those wounds need better cleaning than that, along with the rest of him. Rowan held the cloth firmly on the arm wound, the worse of the two, and tied it in place. When the boy had regained his wind somewhat, Rowan placed him gingerly on his feet. Bracing him with both hands in his shoulders, he spoke, softly but clearly. "I'll tell you this once, boy: get some manners or get out. I run an orderly establishment, and your *entrance* almost cost some of my customers their meal. Do you understand?" The boy looked up into the face of the brawny ex-adventurer nervously, and was surprised to see concern for his welfare as well as brusqueness at his display. "S-s-sir , you be the Rowan of Dragon Inn?" "Yes, boy." "Sir, me want t' hire wit' you." Rowan held him back at arms' length and eyed him narrowly. He asked, "Is this some joke you're playing, boy? What makes you think that I'd be wanting to hire a street urchin barreling into my place, ready to stir up --" Mary Littlefair, who'd come up quietly during this exchange, placed a hand on Rowan's arm. "Wait, husband. Look at the poor waif." The boy stood in front of both of them, his hands clasped still over his stomach where Rowan had stopped his flight, his ribs protruding slightly from his skinny frame. His trousers were simple linen, patched and torn. His feet were bare, the soles horny from constant trodding with no protection against the grit and gravel of the street. "He's not been eating well, have you, child?" The boy's dark brown eyes looked up to meet hers. "No, ma'am, hain't had no time, no food." His eyes pleaded with her: take me on! "You know, Rowan," Mary said, "the place *has* been hectic lately, and Serene should really be spending more time with Mista. As nice as Luthor is, no one can really take the place of a babe's mother, and she's been working extra shifts for a while now." She rubbed his shoulder affectionately. "If the work's good, we might even get a chance to take a break ourselves when this rush has died down. You know, take a rest, maybe a walk through Kron Park, see what it's like?" Rowan's face softened. Mary's eyes sparkled in that merry way he loved so much. He smiled at her and said, "Soon. Let's see what happens." He turned to the lad, who was standing up straight, hope in his face. "What experience have you had with bar work, boy?" he asked gruffly. "Not too much, but me learn fast as a rat in light, and me move *real* smooth'n'fast in tight corners. Me work cheap, 'n me can do anyt'ing you need done." He answered quickly, almost feverishly. Rowan's face hardened. "Spoken like a true thief. Should I run the risk of you practicing your profession on me or my customers? Why, I ought to run you out of here right now--" "No! Please, sir, please," Vondi pleaded. "Me used t', but me no thief no more. That why me *here*." He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Me *tired* of de Low Town. Me got no place t' go, no place t' be. Me sick of de Shivs. Me sick of stealin', of fightin', wit' nut'ing t' show but trash. Me need more than, than..." His voice trailed off, and he swayed where he stood, looking forlorn. "Will your "family" come looking for you?" Rowan asked. "No! No!" said Vondi. "You got *good* rep in de Low Town. Know lots o' no-mess folks come here. No pickin's. Nut'ing t' get but Guards or worse if we messin' here. No Shivs'll come here t' give trouble, 'slong as me stays *here*." He looked around the Inn, then back at Rowan and Mary, hope daring to show in his eyes. Rowan gave him an appraising glare. "All right," he answered grudgingly. As the boy's eyes lit up, Rowan continued, "But you don't steal from me. And you don't give the customers any trouble. And you mind what I or Mary here or Bob over there behind the bar or Serene over *there* with the tray tell you, all right? What *is* your name, by the way, boy?" "Vondi, sir!" "All right, Vondi." His tone softened a bit. "You also need to look the part, here. You need a bath, first, and some decent clothes. You and Bob look about the same size; you can borrow some of his clothes for starters and share his room for right now. If you do good work, we'll make you up a place for yourself. Next, you get a hot meal and some rest into you. Tomorrow, we'll go over your basic duties and get you started on the early shift, when there isn't so much hubbub." Mary took Vondi gently by the arm. "Here, let me get these wounds cleaned and dressed properly. Come along." She smiled at Vondi, who gave her a shy grin of his own. As they walked away toward the back, Rowan shook his head in wonder. "What in blazes am I *doing* with this boy? Issek knows, I need the help, but a *street* *urchin*?" He sighed heavily. "I just hope I'm doing the right thing." =========================================================================== -- Clay Colwell "If homosexuality is a disease, then let's all call archmage@vnet.ibm.com in queer to work." - Robin Tyler IBM Austin, TX Disclaimer: This is *Clay* talkin', not IBM.