HDTenEightyP/NetNews huggingface dataset:
From: jgreene@dorm.rutgers.edu (Jeffrey Greene)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Re: Khisanth greets Zebron and Garriot
Date: 15 Sep 92 01:22:39 GMT
Organization: Rutgers Univ., New Brunswick, N.J.

v124jw4y@ubvmsd.cc.buffalo.edu (Benjamin R Pierce) writes:

>In article <1992Sep14.155243.18847@oswego.Oswego.EDU>, scheider@oswego.Oswego.EDU (cat) writes...

>>Kyleen, who had slipped away to her room somewhere around two hours ago,
>>had entered the room silently.  She recognized the Dark Elf vaguely, but
>>had refrained from drawing attention to herself.  But at Khisanth's words,
>>she becomes interested.  Crossing to Garriot's table, she says in Elven
>>(surprise, surprise), "good morrow, stranger.  Hast thou passed a pleasant
>>night?  How fares thy wound, does it yet need tending?"

>Garriot reflexively looks down at his various wounds, or more precisely, the
>places where he was wounded last night.  A puzzled frown crosses his face.
>"It would appear," he says, "that someone has already attended to that, though
>I thank you for the offer...Kyleen, was it not?"  Again the puzzled frown of 
>half-rememberance crosses his face. "But I forget my manners.  Have the two of 
>you met?  Kyleen, this is Khisanth, who I hope will be able to help me with my
>problem..."  Garriot stands and offers his chair to Kyleen, pulling another
>over from a nearby table.

Sitting in a familiar chair, at a familiar table, next to the cloak he left 
hanging on a wall peg when last he visited the Dragon's Inn, Zebron still
looks around the room.  He is searching for someone who more than "vaguely"
remembers him, or maybe he is looking for something entirely different.  He
nervously toys with the silver sword earring in his ear, looking all around 
the room.
Dusk, however, is not so preoccupied.  The raven is intently watching Garriot
and the two who have joined him, Khisanth and Kyleen.  The bird seems to be 
paying close attention to the conversation, always looking at the figure who
is talking at the moment.

-jak
jgreene@dorm.rutgers.edu
Zebron Twilight and Dusk
From: bj689@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Mike D. Bavister)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [AG] A Chance To Relax And Argue.
Date: 15 Sep 1992 22:25:21 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA)
Reply-To: bj689@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Mike D. Bavister)
NNTP-Posting-Host: hela.ins.cwru.edu



[ADMIN: proxy-posted for: 
        Christopher M. Steiner <csteiner@ousace.cs.ohiou.ed>]

   A small fire burned just off the trail.  Toscon and Effandir sat  beside 
 it,  eating the bolas they killed.  Travel for the past few days  had  been 
 very quiet.
 
    "I've been meaning to ask," Toscon began, then stopped.
 
    Effandir sat his medium-burnt bola in front of him, half-eaten.  "Yes?"
 
    "The thief back there hadn't sold all of the stuff he got from you,  but 
 he  had more than 400 shekels on him.  You can't tell me you got  all  that 
 from just intimidation."
 
    Effandir  stared  at the bola for a bit.  It stirred and rolled  to  its 
 feet.   "Why  not?" he asked innocently.  He turned to the bola  and  said, 
 "Now,  go south-west along the trail until you hit a city.  Then  go  south 
 two  days  travel and wait.  If you ever see a man or a  rat  wearing  this 
 symbol,"   Effandir  pointed to a symbol scrawled into  the  ground,  "kill 
 him."
 
    Toscon made a retched sound better left undescribed.  "Must you do  that 
 while I'm still eating?!"
 
    "Why not?" Effandir repeated.
 
    A black horse wandered closer to the fire and dropped it's tether beside 
 Toscon.   He  sighed, picked up the tether and tied the horse to  the  tree 
 again.  "You can only do that so often, and I doubt you could get away with 
 it in a city like Generica."  He returned to munching on his bola.
 
    Effandir  smiled.   "That's quite an intelligent horse you  have  there.  
 Aren't you affraid it's owner will come looking for him?"
 
    "Her." Toscon said.
 
    "Whatever."
 
    "Nope."  Toscon said.  At Effandir's quizical look, he said, "I've never 
 had to worry about anyone coming after me.  Doesn't happen."
 
    "Hey!  Don't eat all of that!"  Effandir ripped most of the bola out  of 
 Toscon's hands.  "He's so far gone now, I'll have to make him a  skeleton," 
 he grumbled.
 
    Toscon  finished tearing the meat off of the bola's leg and  tossed  the 
 bone at Effandir.  "Why do you do that?"
 
    "Unlike you," Effandir growled, "I have enemies."
 
    He attached the leg and in a few moments, the skeletal bola rose to look 
 at him.  "Now, go south-west..."


++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
+ Toscon- Life is to long to play it safe. +
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Life is a swamp.  And above the swamp, there is fog.
From: v124jw4y@ubvmsd.cc.buffalo.edu (Benjamin R Pierce)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Morning for Garriot
Date: 12 Sep 92 01:23:00 GMT
Organization: University at Buffalo
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41

Dawn at the Dragon's Inn finds Garriot already up and seated in the empty
tavern.  His only company is the boy who the innkeeper employs to clean
the inn.  The soltitude suits Garriot; were anybody there to see him, they
would not have to be too perceptive to tell that he has a great deal on his
mind.  He glances over at his note, now hanging on the bulletin board, and
wonders whether the day will bring answers or not.  Turning his attention to
the window, he watches the sun rise and awaits the first stirrings of life at 
the Inn...
From: v124jw4y@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu (Benjamin R Pierce)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: A note over the bar
Date: 9 Sep 92 15:08:00 GMT
Organization: University at Buffalo
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41



The following note hangs over the bar, next to the dartboard.  It is written
in common, elven, and a third language which most people in the bar don't
recognize.

WANTED:  A mage, cleric, or other worker of magicks capable of aiding in
the recovery of lost memories.  Respond here.
From: vaughan8670@iscsvax.uni.edu
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [R/H] Helios awakes, and calls for Hayley...
Date: 7 Sep 92 21:58:06 -0500
Organization: University of Northern Iowa



ADMIN:Helios requested this be posted....(I think...)



	Helios awoke, a throbbing pain in bounding im his head. It was as
if Killian, that bloody jovial weretiger, was playing one of his little
tunes on his brain. Where am I, he thought. Why am I in pain ? Where is
Radan ? For that matter, where is Karl and the rest of the group ?
	Helios established the fact that he was sitting in some form of 
chair. His arms were strapped down, as were both of his feet. He couldn't
move. Hang on, he thought. My arms are tied down, as are both of my feet.
Both of my feet. My feet. I don't have feet, I'm a centaur. I have hooves.
Why did I think of feet ???
	A snicker sounded somewhere in front of him. 
	"So, the little playmate has awoken."
	Helios opened his eyes, thankful that the light that reached them
was cold and grey and gloomy. He was not thankful, however, for the figure 
that he say swinging its feet over the edge of a table in front of him.
	"Schumann."
	"Ah, he remembers. The ... the CENTAUR ...hasn't forgotten his old
friends..."	
	"I was never your friend, you perversion of all that is faerie"
	"Ah ah ah, compliments will get you nowhere."
	"Why am I here ?"
	"You are just leaving, being put back into the outside world."
	"Why ? Why have you brought me here just to release me ?"
	"Look down, centaur, and weep."
	Helios did and the sight thatmet his eyes sent shivers of fear
and revulsion down his spine. He had expectes to see his own strong, 
muscular forelegs. What he saw was a pair of trousered human legs, with
FEET on the ends, not hooves.
	"No ! What have you done to me ! How ? No ! This can't be !"
	Schumann burst into a fit of giggles.
	Then Helios felt her, she was somewhere outside the city, searching 
for him. She must not come closer, she must not come into Specifica, Shaman
would fry her ! HAYLEY! he called in desperation, HAYLEY!!
From: bj689@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Mike D. Bavister)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [ART] Enter Artimian...
Date: 15 Sep 1992 22:23:58 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA)
Reply-To: bj689@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Mike D. Bavister)
NNTP-Posting-Host: hela.ins.cwru.edu



[ADMIN: proxy-posted for: 
        Christopher M. Steiner <csteiner@ousace.cs.ohiou.ed>]

    Curls  of  smoke rose from a were-rat on the floor.  A  broken  skeleton 
 clung desperatly, hopelessly to its undeath.  Three dogs lay near the door, 
 licking their wounds.  A brown man stood at the far wall, tracing  circular 
 runes carved upon it ages ago.  A swift hovered a few feet behind the  man, 
 holding a hyper-bola at bay while the man worked.
 
    The  last  rune  was traced and the  portal  opened.   Artimian  stepped 
 through into a forest.
 
    "I  am here, my friend," Artimian said to nothing in  particular.   "How 
 many  more  worlds are you going to take me from my distant  kingdom."   He 
 gestured  for  the animals to come through the opening.  "One day  I  shall 
 catch you, my friend.  Once again we shall meet, and then I-"
 
    The hyper-bola pounced on the centre of his back, pitching him  foreward 
 onto  the  ground.   Two night lizards scrambled around to  his  back  just 
 before  he  hit.  The war dogs and the war horse walked  through  the  gate 
 proudly, followed closely by the swift.
 
    Then the portal closed.
 
 

"Bartender, I believe I'll have another pitcher of water..."
                                            (Artimian Yauntir of Elturel)
From: scheider@Oswego.EDU (Linda Scheiderich)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Re: New character appears [Inn]
Keywords: New PC
Date: 11 Sep 92 21:32:10 GMT
Reply-To: scheider@oswego.Oswego.EDU (cat)
Organization: Instructional Computing Center, SUNY at Oswego, Oswego, NY

Kyleen turns to the newcomer and, holding out her rather warm and well-
studied glass of wine, says "could you start by cooling this down somewhat?
I am finding that I really need this".

          Cat, the Mystical Divinity of Unashamed Felinity
Oh if people only knew how DULL it was to live in sin!...
(.sig subject to change)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: andsol@owlnet.rice.edu (Andrew J. Solberg)
Subject: [KQ] Kron [Low City] You Deserve A Break Today
Organization: Rice University
Date: Fri, 11 Sep 1992 23:03:39 GMT

'Raelf sez:

"Anyone I just patched up - y'all need to eat real food real soon.  The
heal spell uses your own energy reserves and it can and will come undone
if you don't replenish them.  Go do lunch, people."

The glowing matrix of 'Raelf's spell subsides from Kron's form.  He looks
at his arms and hands and is surprised to see the wounds from this after-
noon's jaunt disappear before his very eyes.  At the same time, he feels
a tremendous wave of weariness crash through him like a punch to the gut.
The past week or so have not been good to Kron, and it's starting to catch
up with him.  However, Kron's not about to take a breather for long.

"Are'nt you coming with us, 'Raelf?" Kron asked.

'Raelf shook his head.  "Sorry, dudes.  It's been fun and all, but I got some
stuff to clear up.  The timestream around here is all mucked up, and needs some
serious debugging.  But to do that I gotta hit the books, so now I gotta go
to the library.

"I'll try to join you in a few hours, though.  I want to be in on it when
you meet the Wasters' big boss."  'Raelf then speaks briefly to Thk and
Marcel before beating appendages.

Suddenly Kron feels drained of all energy.  He collapses to the ground in
a heap.  "Nooo...." he rasps hoarsely.  "...not now....so close...."  It
would seem that a week's worth of prison time followed by forty-eight hours
of serious adrenaline rush is too much for a forty-something veteran with
serious personal problems.

The streets of the Low City pirouette around Kron as he struggles for
consciousness.  His addled gaze fixes on the sun high overhead.  To Kron,
it looks leprous and faded.  And how can it be twilight when the sun is
out?  Curious......

The sun smears into an orange haze as Kron blacks out....

-- 
Andrew Solberg          |"If I were your wife I'd poison your tea!" 
Undying University Mooch|              Anon. Outraged British Woman
andsol@owlnet.rice.edu  |"And if I were your husband I'd drink it!"
Phone:713-529-8627      |              Winston Churchill
From: v124jw4y@ubvmsb.cc.buffalo.edu (Benjamin R Pierce)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Re: The pubsite drama continues...
Keywords: Continuation of Re: a stranger arrives, or some such.
Date: 7 Sep 92 16:04:00 GMT
Organization: University at Buffalo
News-Software: VAX/VMS VNEWS 1.41

In article <1992Sep4.154057.2614@oswego.Oswego.EDU>, scheider@oswego.Oswego.edu (cat) writes...

>Seeing that the stranger is no longer a threat, the female Elf puts her
>dagger away.  She goes over to the bar, retrieves her as yet untouched
>wine, and makes good on her promise of paying for both times, as well as
>paying for food for both the stranger and herself.
>She listens to his dissertation, and gently puts her hand on his shoulder.
>"Trouble thyself not.  Just take a name for now, and the rest will come.
> But if it will aid thee, thou mentioned two names; Kale and Adrianna (here
> is where I am not too sure - pretend I got it right and email me the
> correct name, sil vous plait - Cat).  If those names mean nothing to you,
> do not worry.  The trauma thou hast been through often induces periods of
> disorientation, and what thou hast lost will return to thee at the 
> necessary time.  Until then, I am called Kyleen, and until I have been
> given reason to act otherwise, I can be numbered among thy friends".



As Kyleen introduces herself, a haunted look passes across Garriot's face for
a moment, as if a memory were dancing at the edge of his consciousness.  Then
he shakes his head as if to clear it, and smiles halfheartedly.
"I thank you, both for your aid and offer of friendship, and wish that I could
 repay both.  However, as things stand, I can only offer my friendship in kind.
 Beware, though, for it may not be a healthy thing to befreind one such as I.
 Those who persue me are...(furrows his brow in frustration, then shakes his
 head.)  It's gone again.  All I can tell you is that I am being persued by
 unknown forces which I fear mean me great ill.  I...would not want to see
 you endangered because of me, Kyleen."



(Sorry this is so late, I was out of town for the weekend)
From: albert@bcm.tmc.edu (Rick Jones)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [KQ] Scorpion [Waster's HQ] There goes the neighborhood
Date: 14 Sep 1992 02:30:25 GMT
Organization: Baylor College of Medicine
Originator: albert@chain.ssctr.bcm.tmc.edu

[ADMIN: This takes place immediately before Kron's Dream Sequence.]

	In the Shunned Center, there is a warehouse, unnofficial HQ of
a band of strange outlaw mutants (no, not the X-Men).
Scorpion, the bolt-lobbing commander of the Wasters, relaxed with a 
cold brew.  Life is good, he thought.  No big troubles since those
moron Rameshanders kidnapped that brat.  What morons.  Okay, let's snatch
the squire of some goombah from the [expletive deleted] Dragon's Inn.
Might as well go hunting dragons in oil-soaked armor.  I'm getting too
old for this crap.
	"Scorpion.  Come up to my workroom,"  the words echoed in Scorpion's
head.
	"So much for a lazy day," Scorpion sighed, and trudged up to the 
Seer's laboratory.  The door opened as he reached for the knob.  
	Showoff, he thought.  Every fragging one's a showoff.
	"What is it, boss?" 
	Seer "looked" up from his crystal ball.  "That squid-faced fool
has blown our cover.  Kron and a bunch of warriors from the Dragon's
Inn are on their way here."
	Junkie amatuers.  Never did have any discipline. "I'll wake up Blink.  
If you could tell him where Nolrimm, Bogo, and Rook are.  I'll roust the rest.
We'll be ready."
	"I was just going to tell you to do that.  How are the traps?"
	"Everything's ready.  We can hold off a small army."
	Seer froze.
-----
	S E E R.  S U C H  I S  N O T  M Y  W I L L!

	What do you desire, Great One?

	B R I N G  K R O N  T O  U S.

	But what of his allies?

	A L L I E S  A R E  I R R E L E V A N T.  B R I N G  M E  K R O N.
L E A D  T H E M  T O  M Y  P R E S E N C E.    W E   W I L L . . .  D E A L
W I T H  T H E M.  
	A L S O.  K I L L  T H E  W A S T E R S.  W E   R E Q U I R E  
T H E  P O W E R   W E  G A V E  T O  T H E M.  N O W.
----
	Seer looked up at Scorpion.  "Plans have changed.  Get the rest
of the Wasters and clean out the Warehouse.  Move the Wasters to 
the 'Wasted Lady', docked on Pier 7, and wait for me.  Leave Kron and 
the rest to me.  You have an hour.   They are tired from their battle
at the warehouse."
	"CLEAN OUT THE WAREHOUSE?!?  Are you nuts?  And you want to move to 
a smelly old boat?"
	"Do not question my orders?  Did I not give you and the other
Wasters powers you had never immagined?  Have I ever steered you wrong?"
	There was that foolishness with Broadmarch.  Sigh.  "Of course not."
Scorpion started to leave.  
	"Wait.  Once you are moved.  Send Blink back here.  I have some... 
special instructions for him."
	Scorpion qucickly left.  
	This is getting too weird.  "Blink, get your lazy ass up.  Boss has   
a job for you."  Specifica's looking good this time of year.
-- 
Rick Jones				Systems Support Center
albert@bcm.tmc.edu			Baylor College of Medicine
Voice: 713-798-7352			standard disclaimers apply
"I'm the Chosen One.  And I choose to go shopping."-Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
From: bdavis@cray.com (Brent G Davis)
Subject: Sea Watch, Part 3
Summary: Ezrin discovers he's not in Leviathan Tower anymore
Organization: Cray Research Inc., Chippewa Falls, WI
Date: 9 Sep 92 15:02:17 CDT

   Cold black silence completely surrounded Ezrin.  'What happened?'
The Wyeriun was obviously casting a teleport spell, but somehow that magic
had reached Ezrin through the TeleMirror.  He tried to move, but there was
no response from any of his limbs.  'Is this death?'  If his curiosity
hadn't led him to touch that mirror, he would be ok.

   Slowly, his eyes began to detect dim light.  Perhaps he had been
temporarily blinded by the surge of magical energy.  The faint light
provided just enough illumination to determine that he was no longer
within Leviathan Tower, but instead in some unrecognized place.  His
arm was still outstretched, and his hand was pressed flat against what
had seconds before been the surface of the TeleMirror.  However, the
mirror was gone now, and it was replaced with...the hand of The Wyeriun.

   Somehow the magic had been disrupted, paralyzing Ezrin and the other
marestasi in their current facing positions somewhere on the astral or
ethereal plane.  Here they were trapped, possibly forever.
   
   Suddenly, a bright flash in the distance caught Ezrin's attention.
'Is that the magical disturbance I saw on the Chart?'  The background
strobed again, silhouetting the frozen figure of The Wyeriun.  This second
light had been brighter and closer.  At it present course and speed, the
next flash would hit both of them.

   His estimation was correct.

   The next flash completely blinded Ezrin.  Eventually, a familiar tingling
sensation began to surge throughout his body, and his ears began to detect
a rushing sound.  He was falling!  The phenomena had released him, but now
he was blindly plummeting to an unknown destination.  Out of instinct, he
grabbed frantically for anything within reach.  His hand grasped another
hand.  The Wyeriun had been set free as well.  The Wyeriun pulled Ezrin's
hand to his belt.  With a short chant, The Wyeriun slowed their descent to
a gentle downward float.

   Even with their slowed descent, it was only brief seconds before they
landed in the sea.  Ezrin and The Wyeriun sank into the waves of salt water.
Uneasy minutes passed as both men concentrated on keeping their bodies
afloat.  Finally, The Wyeriun spoke.

   "Watchman, I've been blinded and without my sight my remaining magic
is useless."  His voice sounded worried.

   "I can't see either.  Hopefully, the Capricorn will find us." Ezrin knew
that if they weren't rescued by a nearby ship, they were doomed.  Eventually,
the sharks, sea monsters or just plain fatigue would kill them both.

-- 
 /  bdavis@romulus.cray.com     Cray Research Inc.    Chippewa Falls, WI  \
(  Just another Engineer/Musician/AD&D'er multiclass with Internet access  )
 \ "I`m a zombie in the a.m., when it's just too early to wake the dead." /
From: gdscott@matt.ksu.ksu.edu (Geoffrey D Scott)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: Enter Glysten
Date: 10 Sep 1992 18:23:05 -0500
Organization: Kansas State University
NNTP-Posting-Host: matt.ksu.ksu.edu

	He smells the stench of stale ale and human sweat as he approaches.
It is a common smell for such inns, but nevertheless he still finds it         
distasteful.  Yet, he must enter.  He enters quietly, with only a slight 
pause in the constant mumur of conversation.  He is garbbed in a light grey
cloak, and wears what appears to be Black Studded Leather Armour with several
bands of Ivory.  He pulls back his hood to reveal a pale complection, short
blond hair, and a set of piercieng grey eyes.  He is a mere 6'0, and of 
medium build.  Across his back he wears a sword. the hilt is of the purest
white ivory, and the scabboard is midnight ebony. An ancient scral is seen 
upon the scabboard.  Looking at him one knows that he is a solitary man.
He radiates calm, and a chilling coolness.  No emotion appears upon his 
face.  He sits at a table in the middle of the far wall, his back to the wall.
He orders 6 flagons of ale and a falgon of water.  when the drinks arrive
he sets the ale at the six empty seats around the table and take the water 
for himself.  He knows the others will come.  He does not know their names
he has never seen them, but as he was driven to come here, so will they be.
After all no small magic could force him to come. Powerful magic is at hand.
He knows, after all, he is Glysten.
From: bj689@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Mike D. Bavister)
Newsgroups: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Subject: [ART] A Short Little Bit
Date: 15 Sep 1992 22:26:38 GMT
Organization: Case Western Reserve University, Cleveland, OH (USA)
Reply-To: bj689@cleveland.Freenet.Edu (Mike D. Bavister)
NNTP-Posting-Host: hela.ins.cwru.edu



[ADMIN: proxy-posted for: 
        Christopher M. Steiner <csteiner@ousace.cs.ohiou.ed>]

    Artimian  growled over the corpses of almost fourty zombies,  mostly  of 
 animals  a few humanoid, and Tybis, one of his war dogs.  His horse lay  on 
 it's side, not five yards away, dying.
 
    "You  cause me pain, my friend," he spoke into nothingness again.   "You 
 do well to try to kill me.  There is no other hope for you."
 
   [ADMIN: Sorry for the shortness of this post, but that's all there is
right now.]
 

"Bartender, I believe I'll have another pitcher of water..."
                                            (Artimian Yauntir of Elturel)