From alt.pub.dragons-inn Fri Apr 7 23:09:20 1995 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:8271 Path: netcom.com!ix.netcom.com!howland.reston.ans.net!cs.utexas.edu!uunet!in1.uu.net!imagen!rpal.rockwell.com!news.Stanford.EDU!not-for-mail From: tolsen@leland.Stanford.EDU (Tanya Ann Olsen) Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn Subject: [Cernborn] {At the Inn} Room Service!? Date: 6 Apr 1995 14:22:49 -0700 Organization: Stanford University, CA 94305, USA Lines: 73 Message-ID: <3m1m39$8pc@elaine5.Stanford.EDU> NNTP-Posting-Host: elaine5.stanford.edu #11a Room Service !? A knock came at the door. "Room service," a voice called out from the hall. Upon opening the door, Cernborn could see a servant holding a tray of food. "Compliments of the house, for Cernborn." He handed over the tray and disappeared from view down the hall. Puzzled, Cernborn took the tray and set it down on the small table by the door. Something was strange about the servant, but he could not determine what. Deciding not to take anything at face value, he visually inspected the tray for oddities and then magically for poison. He finally realized what was bothering him as he prepared his prayer: the servant did not address him properly and did not wait for a tip. "What is it?" asked Athorbalo who was once again resting on the bed. "I am not sure. Something is strange here," he replied. About a minute after touching the tray of food, an itching started in Cernborn's hands, moved slowly up through his arms, and soon encompassed his entire body. The itching compulsion was so strong, it broke his concentration, but his worst fears had already been confirmed. Some sort of poison, apparently activated when he touched the tray for the first time as he took it from the servant was spreading throughout his body. As this dawned on him, he noticed for the first time a business card on the tray. It read: "You are a dead man. Enjoy your last meal." The card was signed Azurecon. "Oh no, not again!" cried Cernborn. "What is it?" asked Athorbalo again, moving off the bed. "I have been poisoned!" he replied. She started to move to him. "Do not touch anything near the tray or me. My wards against poison do not seem to be working, or rather, they are working but this poison compells me to scratch and when I do, it spreads, and I am poisoned once again." He clenched his hands together in a desperate attempt not to succumb to the horrible itching. "Unless I can get this poison washed off somehow, this cycle may continue indefinitely." His voice strained as he tried to concentrate on the matter at hand and ignore the itching sensation which now seemed to cover his entire body. Athorbalo ran into the bath room and returned with the pitcher and basin. "Here let's try rinsing it off and at least stop the spreading." She started pouring water over Cernborn's clenched hands and arms, catching the excess in the basin. "Wait! Athorbalo!" he cried too late as he crashed to the floor, quite unable to stand, a merman once again. But the itching had subsided slightly, and the pain of the transformation had broken the compulsion to scratch. "Douse the rest of me; I am not sure where I have touched." He started a chant while she poured the rest of the water over him. The itch grew stronger as he chanted; it took all his self- control to continue the prayer and not give in to the compulsion to scratch which was returning full force. When he finally finished, he laid back, apparently exhausted. He sighed in relief. "If this sort of thing continues, we will never even get out of the Dragon's Inn!" Athorbalo chuckled, "Does this mean I get the chance to make you do what I say while you recuperate?" ------------ Lord Captain Cernborn tolsen@leland.stanford.edu Athorbalo hilanse@wkuvx1.wku.edu with special contribution from: Azurecon jimmoore@eden.rutgers.edu