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From: reaux@csgrad.cs.vt.edu (Ray A. Reaux)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [ARTICLE 39] A Gargoyle Blaster and a Candle
Date: 27 Feb 1995 11:22:20 -0500
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[Dougl is a product of Dennis Brennan's imagination.  Anders is a product of
Ray Reaux.]


>Just as Dougl was about to give up hope of ever meeting another of
>Officer Aloysius's "Special Officers", a man stumbled in and (after a
>brief altercation with an ape-like patron of the Inn), discretely displayed
>a cup similar to the one which Dougl himself bore.

>History would later forgive Dougl for his following actions, but Dougl
>proceeded in his delight and haste to abandon the caution and prudence
>becoming a paladin.  He strode briskly to the newcomer's table, placed
>his own Apothecary's Morter on it, and said, "At last, Aloysius has sent
>you.  May I join you so that we can discuss our plans?"

>The newcomer looked a bit puzzled at Dougl's exuberance and did not
>immediately reply.  In that brief moment before the newcomer responded,
>the two sized each other up.  Anders, an experienced scribe, immediately
>recognized Dougl as an educated and even perhaps noble young man who had
>for some impenetrable reason chosen to dress down for the occasion.  Dougl
>was shorter than average, but athletic and healthy-looking.  Although he
>was dressed in a common man's garb, his accent and composure were that
>of no commoner.  If this young man was trying to keep his nature incognito,
>Anders speculated, then he wasn't doing a very good job.

>Dougl, on the other hand, immediately fixated upon the small cloudlike
>haze which appeared to be above Anders' head.  Forgetting his manners,
>Dougl broke eye contact with the stranger to wonder at the strange little
>cloud.

"Eh, yes, well, I'm Anders." Anders sputtered nervously.  Unable to think of
anything particularly brilliant to say, he stuck out his hands and promptly
knocked over his cup.  The grey drink splattered all over the table and
flowed into a channel someone had carved into the table top.
Dougl, preoccupied with the wispy cloud that he thought he saw above
Ander's head, did not step back in time.  His tunic was soaked by the
Gargoyle Blaster.

"I say old chap, I'm sorry."  Anders stood up from his seat and pushed
his napkin over to Dougl.  Dougl picked up the proferred napkin, but in
his haste, his arm bumped the candle on the table.  Like a tremor shook
tower, the candle rocked in its holder.  Alarmed, Anders grabbed for the
candle but his knee jarred the table instead.  The sudden jarring tipped
the swaying candle, and it fell into the river of grey liquid. With a
whoosh, the 150 proof liquid became a sheet of flame. Dougl jumped back,
but the flame, like a miniature elemental, leaped the gap between table
and paladin, setting his shirt on fire.  As Dougl franstically beat at
the flames engulfing his shirt, the Inn's anti-fire spell activated.
The corner table, including Dougl and Anders was suddenly deluged with
water.

"I say again old chap.  I'm frightfully sorry." Anders patted the bench
near him.  Where his palm slapped the wood, water splashed up.  "Eh,
well, I would ask you to sit down, but the bench seems somewhat,  eh
well, wet."