From: djb6@ellis.uchicago.edu (Dennis Brennan)
Subject: [R] Karl: A sort of homecoming...
Reply-To: djb6@midway.uchicago.edu
Organization: University of Chicago Computing Organizations
Date: Sun, 13 Dec 1992 21:18:32 GMT

<shuffle>...<Thunk!>...<shuffle>...<Thunk!>...
Bent with the kind of weariness only a long and uncomfortable sea voyage
can inflict on the elderly human frame, Karl made his way up the hill.
His progress was retarded somewhat by the icy winds blowing against him
and the rapidly deepening snow.  Funny that- snow in Generica.  Karl 
mused that one of the reasons he had retired from adventuring in Generica
rather than Alasir or Vascondy was the "choice climate," as it had been
described to him.  

Children gaily built tiny snow castles and threw lumps of the stuff
at one another in merry melees.  Reminded of the carefree frolicking of
his former charge, Karl wondered how little Dougl was doing these days
(ADMIN: As you old timers remember, Dougl is in Paladin school).  

At last, Karl approached the rather elegant facade of his new home.  As
Merchants' Hill residences went, it was rather small, but Karl considered
it an impossibly huge palace in comparison to his simple cottage behind
the Keep.  There were eight wide marble steps to the door, which Karl
ascended with considerable difficulty.  

At the door, Karl was unsure of what to do next.  Should he go right in?
Perhaps this was the wrong house?  Timidly, Karl rapped on the brass
knocker.  Almost immediately, the tall portal swung open, revealing
one of the most preposterously dressed men Karl had ever seen.

He was at least six and a half feet tall, and thin as a plank.  He was clean
shaven, and the top of his head was bald.  He had large, bushy eyebrows
and stern looking eyes.  Around his neck there was some kind of ridiculous
lace cravat-thing, and his waistcoat was decorated with outlandish paisley
patterns.  Picture Prince, but tall, old and white.

Looking down his nose in that infurating manner of those who combine
tallness and arrogance, the man addressed Karl, "Yeeeeeeees?"

Stunned, Karl could only stammer, "I...I...".  The butler replied,
"You, perhaps, wish to see the Master?"  He smirked, assuming that
such a disheveled man was just some misplaced street person looking for
shelter.  "Well, I do apologize, but that won't be possible as he's away
on business in Rameshan.  Good day."  The butler began to close the door but
Karl stuck his arm out.

"Gaah!"  cried Karl as the door pinched it.  "Open up!  I'm Karl!  You..."
He was about to unleash a long string of uncouth words in the noble tradition
of Generica's military but was cut off mid-breath when the butler
complied and opened the door again.

The butler's wierd appearance was now increased by the fact than his face
was now as white as a sheet.  "I do apologize, sir, I'm sure."

Entering and removing his frosty cloak, Karl proceeded to wander about the
large room.  The front door opened into some sort of ballroom or reception
area, with black and white floor tilings, tall marble columns supporting
a high ceiling, two chandeleirs, and a large fireplace.  The butler
followed him around this cursory tour.

"Would sir like me to draw a hot bath?"  "Er, sure," Karl replied absently.
He inspected some sort of parlour, a banquet hall, and the kitchen.  At 
once, Karl's quartermaster instincts took over and he began an inventory
of the larder and pantry, to the confusion of the butler, who began,
"Sir, the cook will make sure that the kitchen is kept in order.  There
is no need for concern..."

Holding up a piece of broccoli, Karl asked the butler, "Does this look
fresh to you?  Look how much broccoli you have here.  You can't buy
that much at this time of year."  Shaking his head pedantically,
Karl continued to criticize the contents of the larder.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Several hours later, a well-scrubbed Karl in cleaner garments continued
to be bothered by the butler, who seemed to be insisting on organizing 
some kind of "Welcome Home" party for "the diplomatic entourage and
all of the other appropriate people."  Karl had an idea that associating
with "appropriate people" was nothing like his own idea of a party, which
involved drinking heavily in dark pubs with shady characters.  But after
much arm-twisting, pleading, and threats to pull rank, Karl managed to
extend an open invitation to the party to the regulars of the Dragons Inn.
A crier was dispatched to that most famous of all Generican watering
holes to proclaim the good news...



-- 
Dennis Brennan
djb6@midway.uchicago.edu
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn