From alt.pub.dragons-inn Tue Jul 25 08:58:56 1995 Xref: netcom.com alt.pub.dragons-inn:8580 Path: netcom.com!ix.netcom.com!howland.reston.ans.net!news.sprintlink.net!holonet!colossus.holonet.net!kotc!bell Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn In-Reply-To: ASG102@psuvm.psu.edu Subject: Re: My name is Art From: bell@kotc.com Message-ID: Date: Mon, 24 Jul 95 20:12:00 PST Organization: King of the Cats Lines: 143 >> Fishing in his cloak, Art retrived a black velvet moneypouch. "So," >>he grinned, "Who's for a drink?" > > A large figure rose from the table furthest from the fireplace >and limped up to the bar. As he stepped into the light, Art could >make out his features. The figure was over 6 feet tall and hideously >ugly. His skin was green and brown and yellow, covered with bits of >mismatched fur in some parts and scales in others. > > His face looked as if it had been partially melted. His right >eye hung more than an inch below the left and looked in an entirely >different direction. He had a good head of hair...coming from his >ear lobes and the tip of his nose. > > His whole body was bent, with lumps in all the wrong places. >Fortunately, his leather vest and trousers were well-tailored to >conceal some of the deformity. > > The creature loomed over Art and opened a mouth of broken and >sharply angled teeth. "I'll take onna dem drinks...if ya dare ta >drink with a TROLL!" The beast smiled menacingly. > > A small dark-haired woman stepped out from behind the monster >and smacked him on the arm. "Trawm, stop harassing Littlefair's >customers. The man offered is offering drinks and you're being >rude." Her beauty was magnified by the ugliness beside her. > > Trawm straightened up a little and faced the woman. "I wuz >just tryin' joke 'round with the boy. Look, he ain't even scared >or nothin'." > > Littlefair put down the glass mug that he had been cleaning >and introduced them. "Art, this is Shannon and her boyfriend Trawm. >They're the owners of the Spitting Cobra, another bar across town. >Shannon and Trawm, this is Art, he's new to Generica." > > Shannon turned to Art. "Pleased to meet you. I'm sorry Trawm >acted like that. He just likes to be dramatic sometimes." > > Trawm shrugged his misshapen shoulders. "Yeah, me too. Now, >how 'bout dem drinks?" He licked his purplish lips with something >trying to pass itself off as a tongue. > >-+-+-+-+ Art grinned widely at the pair. "No offence taken, Trawm. Have a seat!" He stood and waved at a nearby table. The mismatched pair sat down across from the flamboyant youth. Waving over the waitress, Art dug into the pouch. He pulled a handfull of silver out, and let it run through his fingers. He sighed. "Friend Nain always was good for a sip." He turned to the waitress. "May I?" He said to the pair. "One glass of Eavermead, for the lady." Listener nodded at the order, reconising it. "For the big one, a tankard of good barbarian Firewine." A smile almost played on Littlefairs features; every warrior of the Realms knew of that famed fluid. "And for me..." Art leaned back, contemplating. "Sembrian Sweetwater, hold the beetle." Littlefair chuckled, and called a warning: "Those are exotic brews, Covely. Even where you come from." The Opportunist reached into the moneypouch again. "No problem with the coin, barkeep. Tap away." As the drinks were poured, Art leaned back. "Honestly, Trawm, you're not the strangest drinking buddy I've ever had. Waterdeep was some bizarre folks." He sipped his sweetwater. "Let's see... there was the Cloak, that was odd. Hmm. Then there was the giant that turned out to just be a gnome on some crazy contraption. He had us all fooled until he got too drunk to stand up. I think the strangest one, tho' would have to be the time I sat down with the Illusionist. That was downright unsettling." ****>>>FLASHBACK<<<**** Art slid into his chair, still soaring from the hiest. "Wheee-oo! I can't belive we got away with that!" Cagar (The Slick) belly-laughed. "The Black Legion, no less! I expected a horde of pissed Necromancers to be there every time I turned around!" Pallas, the boxman, was his usual serious self. "I have other jobs to do, gentlemen. Lets share out the booty." When the cut was split, they all had near 40 gold crowns, and one of the stolen artifacts. As the other two faded into the night, Art examined his magic charm: an amulet in the shape of a swearing hand. He hung it around his neck. The 'Identify' spell said this was one of the Hands Of Truth, used to banish an illusion. It only woked once, but Art hoped to blow it the first chance he got. He didn't trust magic. "Mind if I sit down?" A tall, black-haired man with a bristling beard stood across the table. His warriors countinece was broken by the black cloak he wore. "Please!" said Art, and promptly ordered drinks. "What's your story, friend?" The tall man sipped his drink. "What's to tell? Born in the 'Keep, signed on with a band of Mercs guarding a caravan, now I'm here." Art iched his neck. "Wheres your sword? C'mon, you can lie better than that!" He grinned. The man smiled. "Okay, I'm caught." He rubbed his beard, and it peeled off in his hand. Pulling at his scalp, he removed the black wig, leaving a dirty blond ponytail and a scraggly mustache. "My name is Talbin, thief of renoun. The guards were after me but I think I am safe." Art nodded. "Lightfingers once said, 'Never reveil the truth unless you're sure of the situation.'" The man absently sipped his drink, and glanced at the door. "Good advice." "You're no thief. Who are you!" Art said, less amused now. "What?" "Sign, countersign. Little ID for true opportunists. What are you?" The man shook out the ponytail, rubbed some make-up off his face, became a pretty girl. "My father wanted me to marry aganst my will." "A girl 4 bars tall? Try again." The hair pulled out, becoming shorter. The remaining make-up melted off his face. The cloak dwindled as the form inside became shorter, thinner. The face had the appearance of youth, looked familiar, looked like...ART! "Mandorious, Illusionist extrordinare. And you, boy, are a fool." Art grabbed the Hand from his neck. "Coward! You hide in the forms of others! I will not give you the satisfaction of mocking me!" He toutched the wizard with the glowing Hand. "I invoke the power of the Hand of Truth, and return you to your TrueForm!" The blue aura of the hand enveloped the stranger. he burned with blue fire. when the fire left him, as the echoing Voice of Truth murmured *it is done*, the illusion shattered. The form of the wizard remained unchainged, he was still a dead ringer for Covely. "But..how..I returned you to your trueform!" "You poor, ignorant fool!" Laughed the wizard, as his robes billowed and dropped, empty to the floor. A wisper, borne on the breath of a long forgotten wind, blew in Art's ear. "That WAS my trueform..." ****>>>Back to the present<<<**** Art leaned back and finished his Sweetwater. "So you see, friend," He looked at the tall, misshapen man. "You're actualy a rather plasent change!" ---,--'-(@ Blackthorn