From alt.pub.dragons-inn Fri Dec  3 07:42:11 1993
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From: sherlock@matt.ksu.ksu.edu (A wandering maniac...)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [inn] INTRO: Dasz
Date: 2 Dec 1993 22:21:39 -0600
Organization: Kansas State University
Lines: 64
Message-ID: <2dmesjINNlsk@matt.ksu.ksu.edu>
NNTP-Posting-Host: matt.ksu.ksu.edu
Summary: An introduction of the character Dasz. What else?


	The wagon of Jirs Iulm rambled its way along a road to Generica. Jirs
held the reins, with a confident grin on his face. The wind that blew at him
was enough to give a snowbeast the shivers; he would have no trouble selling
his wool at market tomorrow. A gust peeked through a crack in his coat, and he
pulled it closer to him. It was such a comfortable coat, he could almost fall
asleep in it. And he did.
	At that moment, and unbidden passenger ran from a place where a tall
oak tree once was and leaped into the back of the wagon.

	The driver was still asleep when i the wagon approached the gates. His
passenger had taken the reins with no objection from the slumbering merchant
who now snored beside him. Customs was no problem since his money bags were     full, and an inn was just up the road. The visitor handed the reins to a still
sleeping Jirs and hopped off.
	"Good journey, friend," the figure said, and waved his hand.
	Jirs came awake with a start. He wondered how he had gotten into the
city while he was still asleep, but not for long. The marketplace was not far
from there.

	The figure stared up at the swinging sign above the door. Dragon's Inn
and Pub. A guard/bouncer snarled at him.
	"What do you want?" the guard demanded of him in a voice that had hints
of a trollish parentage.
	"Rooms, and nourishment, for it has been a long trip."
	The guard half-grinned at him. "What else do you want?"
	"That's all. Just food, drink, and a room."
	"No, no-one comes here just for that." the bouncer rumbled. "What     
business do you have here?"
	The man's face was suddenly etched in stone. "If you mean to pry, sir,
I will just enter whether you wish it, or not." he said, and walked through the
wooden wall.
	The guard turned pale and drank heavily and noisily from a concealed
flask of firebreather.

	The innkeeper was polishing a mug which he nearly dropped at the voice
sounding next to his ear.
	"How much do you charge for rooms?" an impossibly tall man asked him.
The innkeeper shifted his shaking gaze upward. The man was clothed in leather
boots, pants and shirt, as well as a brown travelers' cloak and a sheath
containing a wooden sword; eyes greyer than the evening clouds stared down at
him from a cover of greasy black hair. There was an odd tint to his skin, sort
of a silverish gray.
	"S-six coins a night," he managed to stammer out while the man produced
several gold coins from his robe and handed them to him. "Are you ill?"
	The man cocked his considerable head. "Ill?"
	"Yes, your skin is turning grey."
	The giant looked embarrased and said, "No, that's just the steel."
	The innkeeper cocked his head in turn. "Steel? What steel?"
	His eyes glared at him momentarily. "The steel under my skin." he said
in a tone that signaled the finality of the discussion.
	The giant turned away. "Just a moment," the bartender called after him.
"What is your name, in case anyone asks for you?"
	The man stopped at the foot of the stairs, almost hitting his head on
the ceiling, which was 9 feet high and could not be reached by anyone ever seen
at the inn. "Dasz." he said, without even turning. Then, as an afterthought,
"Do you want to know what I do?"
	The innkeeper had wished he would ask him that. "Well, I suppose." he
said, not covering his excitement well. "It helps to know what kind of company  to be expecting."
	"Don't expect any," Dasz said. "I don't know what I am. I was hoping youhad a name for it."
	Before another word could be said, Dasz trudged up the stairs to the
rooms. The innkeeper realized that he had not given him a key, but did not
bother to call him; he looked like the door would open to him, key or no.