From: andsol@is.rice.edu (Andrew J. Solberg)
Subject: [KQ]: Kron [ScrRam] Order Comes To Fight, Ha Ha!  Order is Obeyed!
Organization: Rice University
Date: Sat, 25 Jul 1992 22:05:08 GMT

It looks like this fight is just about over.  All the patrons of the Scrappy
Ram are either gone or down for the count.  The same can be said for the
proprietor, Verdigren, and his chief cronies.  Sambul is passed out on the
floor after his duel with the beer elemental. The Bannery Brothers are worshipping
the floor.  Iannon has a big lump on his head, and Verdigren has passed out from
a rather painful blow to the sternum.  Queriche took the back way out the kitchen,
and now Moriarty has been neatly roped by Maleiu's strange device. 

The heroes are not without casualty as well.  Thk looks a little limp leaning up
against the wall after an unfortunate run-in with loose kegs.  Kron twisted his
ankle while dealing with one of Moriarty's summonings, and it smarts.  Fenris and
HighFlyer seem to have disappeared.  Even Colin and Maleiu, essentially unwounded
in the fray, look pretty worn out.  Kron knows that, at least for tonight, the
party's activities will have to be curtailed soon.

BOOM!  A dull explosion rocks the Inn.  It appears to come from outside.  Kron
limps to the doorway and sees nothing.  Hrmm....now what could that have been?
Kron turns his attention to his prisoners.

Verdigren has come around to some degree, and is pressing a lump of ice to his
sore chest.  Kron limps over to him.  "Verdigren, we tried our best to do this
peacefully.  Honestly we did.  But you wouldn't let us.  C'mon, man, help us!
I still need your assistance."

Verdigren stirs uneasily.  "Well, you've <kaff> sure got a strange way of showing
it."  He winces in pain -- probably a cracked rib or two in there, guesses Kron.

"Look -- I know that you have less desire now to help me than ever.  But we need
information about one of your patrons.  He's the one who put me in that dungeon,
Verdigren.  I'm being framed, and your man is responsible.  Help me, and we'll
make it worth your while.  C'mon -- just tell me about the cloaked mute guy
who sometimes comes in here."

Verdigren screws up his face into a sneer.  "Fuck off, Kron.  I'll never tell
you.  You can do whatever you want -- I hope you swing at the end of a rope."

Moriarty has had enough, and steps forward. "Verdigren, shaddap.  OK, Kron,
I'll tell you what I know."

"MORIARTY!!" Verdigren looks like he's going to go psycho again, but he
hurts too much to get up and wring the neck of the gutter mage.

Moriarty forges ahead.  "I don't know his name, or who he is, or whatever.
All I know is that a guy by your description comes in here maybe one a week
or so.  He uses one of the back rooms, and locks it up afterward.  I don't
know what he uses it for."

Kron points at the side door that Sambul had been stolidly guarding.  "Back
rooms there?"  Moriarty nods.  Verdigren growls at him.  "Er....." says
Moriarty, "any chance I can go now?"  Kron nods.  The conjurer untangles 
himself and slinks out the door.  "See ya, Verdigren," he tosses over his
shoulder.  "We're even now."  The door shuts.

Kron opens the side door.  There is a short hallway with several doors
leading off.  Only the furthest is locked.  Kron opens it and finds a room
piled high with boxes.  He pokes around for several minutes in the mess.
"Aha!" he announces.

"Check this out," he says to the others.  He holds up a thin tube that looks
like nothing so much as a Pixie Stick.  Kron snaps one end open and upends
the tube; a thin stream of bluish powder cascades down into his hand.  He
tastes the powder, then spits it out.  "Joystix," he confirms.

Kron points down to where he found the object.  There are several boxes full
of the little straws.  "This is a pretty good-sized stash.  There's enough
Joystix here to keep a good part of the Low City in dreamyland for the rest
of the week.  Whoever owns this box isn't just a user.  He's a dealer.  And
he must have a bulk sale connection."

"And there's only one place that could lead....."

Kron turns to the others.  "Look, it's late.  We should retire for the night
and pick up tomorrow morning.  I think we've got a lead here, but I need
to think about how it could help us.  Why don't we head back to the Dragon's
Inn for the night?  We can collect information with our other friends there;
perhaps we can piece together who we're dealing with -- and why....."

ADMIN: Anybody got anything else to do while we are here?
-- 
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