From alt.pub.dragons-inn Tue Jan 17 11:28:59 1995 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:8066 Path: netcom.com!ix.netcom.com!howland.reston.ans.net!torn!newshost.uwo.ca!ts3-13.slip.uwo.ca!mdevries From: mdevries@julian.uwo.ca Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [at the inn] is there anybody out there? Date: Mon, 16 Jan 1995 15:07:24 LOCAL Organization: ITS, UWO Lines: 39 Message-ID: References: <3fd9qb$42h@hippo.shef.ac.uk> NNTP-Posting-Host: ts3-13.slip.uwo.ca X-Authenticated: mdevries@ts3-13.slip.uwo.ca X-Newsreader: Trumpet for Windows [Version 1.0 Rev B final beta #4] Hesitantly, Tyloril entered the inn. A few patrons turned to look at him as he stepped from the street, but soon returned to their drinks and conversion. The elf took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim interior of the room, scanning the patrons scattered among various corners with his bright amber eyes. If any could see beneath the hood he wore, they might see a glimmer of fear in those eyes, a nervousness at being around so many people at once. But none could see his eyes, nor his face, a pale white visage displaying the ageless quality common to most elvinkind. He was not accustomed to cities, or people for that matter, and he asked himself continually if things might not be better if he just turned and left, returning to the forest that had been his home for so long. Calming himself, he walked cautiously towards the bar, his forest green cloak hanging nearly to the floor. The elf appeared mundane by most standards, his clothes were unadorned and simple, a pair of brown leather breeches and a simple green tunic. A bow was slung easily over his shoulder, the quiver hanging at his belt. He carried a well-worn staff, although any could see that he did not need it for walking. Once at the bar he ordered some wine and turned to survey the room again. Most had their eyes cast downward to filled plates or their heads huddled together in conversion. Only one appeared to notice him. A woman sat alone at the table. She was cleaning something, but her hand covered most of it and all Tyloril could see was the occasional glint of silver. Her grey eyes moved about the room casually, stopping occasionally, then continuing to roam. Sometimes, the gaze would fix on him then dart off again. Tyloril brought the glass up to his lips, deciding what he should do next. Tyloril ---------------------------------------------------- The lady, with guile in heart, Came early where he lay; She was at him with all her art To turn his mind her way. The Gawain Poet