From: an8400@anon.penet.fi
Subject: [Intro: Higar and the Rat Quest]
Organization: Anonymous contact service
X-Anonymously-To: alt.pub.dragons-inn
Date: Wed, 27 Jan 1993 18:40:41 GMT


The dwarf entered the inn, still smelling faintly of grime, mud and the fish
he ate two weeks back.

He was dressed in a dirty, rusted and punctured suit of chain mail, that 
exposed his dirty jerkin underneath. His plain bowl helmet was set at
an angle to his head, threatening to drop off and roll on the
floor. His brown boots were tearing at the seams, exposing his feet with 
toenails that seemed to be lined with soot. A few strands of grass were 
caught between his toes, but the dwarf seemed unaware of them, or at least, 
did not seem to care. The backpack he had strapped on was moth-eaten and a 
fading stone-grey, and bits of tools, ropes,
hammers and adzes poked out of the top, as if the pack were ready to burst
any minute. A handaxe and a long dagger were hitched to his left side, and
the only thing that looked remotely decent on him was a magnificent looking
crossbow. Strapped to his right side, it was covered with intricate runes, 
shining as if it had just been polished. An 
accompanying rotting quiver of quarrels swung lazily from the 
dwarf's side, the bolts arranged at every conceivable angle.

The dwarf continued his way to the bar, his unkempt and dirty beard 
swinging from side to side like a pendulum which had heard about rhythm
but couldn't quite come to grips with the idea.

Rowan stared straight at the dwarf, wondering whether to throw him out,
see what he wanted, or to run to the outhouse and throw up.

The dwarf reached up and pounded the long table of the bar.
"A mead, bartender!", said the dwarf. "My name is Higar, trapmaker, 
trap remover and crossbowman! To any out there looking for
someone to bring along on an adventure for riches.."

".. and retching..", someone muttered.

"..and glory, I be the dwarf." He finished off, waiting for a response
from the clientele that was not forthcoming.

The dwarf tapped his feet, then coughed. "And by the way, i am also a 
rat exterminator.."

Just then, the town crier rushed in and put a notice up on the board.
He gave the note one hard pound, then ran out again.

The note read:


	RAT CATCHERS WANTED:

       EXTERMINATE VILE VERMIN!
     1 SILVER PER LB OF RAT SLAIN!


"Aha! Just right up my alley!"

Someone in the inn mumbled
"I hear there is a giant rat dwelling somewhere in Generica's sewers, 
weighing about 200 lbs. What a great amount of silver that would catch,
if one could find it... and kill it.."

Higar's eyes lit up, and a devious thought crossed his mind.
He put down his mug of ale, and gave his best smile, even though his
teeth looked like a smashed piano keyboard which had too many ebony keys.

"Is there anyone bold and brave enough to journey with me to 
find this giant rat and slay it? Come now, it shall be a simple
sojourn into the sewers. We shall seek out this beast and bring it back,
and if we're lucky, we might even meet it's mother!!!"

[ So anyone out there interested? Email me back. The tone of this 
scenario is light-hearted, with lots of puns and Pratchett and Python
like humor ( hopefully! ). So dig out your Discworld and your Groos,
read them to get into the proper frame of mind, and prepare to seek out the 
sewers.. =) ]

[ Higar The  Horrible ]
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