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From: [e-mail] (Jeff Simon)
Newsgroups: rec.games.frp.archives
Subject: STORY:  The Outlander  Chapter 3
Followup-To: rec.games.frp.misc
Date: 7 Jun 1995 08:36:42 -0400
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***********************************************************
What has gone before:  A mysterious outlander bearing
an even more mysterious unholy artifact has arrived in
Generica.  A somewhat grimy but not unattractive thief
by the name of Yvette Anastel has accidentally come into
possession of a talisman that is desired by some very
nasty people.  Into this mix now arrives a young
student of magic, who is about to make a very dangerous
acquaitance at the Stumble Inn.
***********************************************************






     Chapter 3:    Credit Where Credit is Due



     The outland warrior known as Jake Shade woke up shortly
after dusk.  He stood up stiffly, stretching to work some
flexibility back into his spine.  He rolled up his blanket
from where it lay between the statues of Bradrick the
Avenger and Mesmer the Immense on the Avenue of Unforgotten
Heroes.

       Shade was getting tired of sleeping on the streets. Two
nights under the open sky were enough.  It was time to change
some of the gems in his backpack into coins or credit.

       The outlander checked his left side.  The tunic on that
side was marred by a small rent and a rust-colored stain.
Beneath the tear, his flesh was unmarked.  Shade patted the
protruding belly on Mesmer's statue for luck, then headed
out into the streets of Generica.

     Although the streets were not familiar to him, he moved
with the confidence of a man who has long ago put fear
aside.  He sampled the aromas that drifted out of numerous
restaurants and cafes as he walked.  He paused to watch a
troupe of street actors as they capered and cavorted before
a small crowd.

       His attention was drawn away from the performers by a
grimy, dark beauty standing ten paces from him.  She was
perhaps twenty years of age, perhaps younger. Shade admired
her figure, which was marvelous if somewhat undernourished.
      She wore a threadbare cloak that had obviously seen
better days.  As he watched, she turned away from the enter-
tainers and walked over to a fortune teller's shop. She
paused at its door, seeming to gather her courage, then
went inside.

         As he walked along, Shade decided that the women of
Generica were - on the whole - unaccountably beautiful.
Perhaps, he thought, that was because his own land of
Aurauna was currently torn by war. The women of Aurauna
were usually newly widowed, newly ravished, or newly dead.
None of those three conditions was known to do much for
appearances.

       His thoughts turned to the party he had attended last
night.  He had been invited by an auburn-haired beauty by
the name of Serene.  Happily, they had hit it off quite
well.  Unfortunately, she was married to some kind of
mysterious demi-god known as 'The Fog'.

"It's pretty hard to compete with a demi-god." Shade groused
to himself.

       The sword across his back stirred, whispering to him in
a dead language that only he understood.  It told him that
together they could take care of anything that stood between
Shade and his desires.  All he had to do was unsheath it,
and the world was theirs.

       Shade ignored the sword's sinister crooning.  To pay
heed was to embark down the path of madness and chaos.  He
had learned that lesson long ago, to his eternal regret.
After a moment,the sword subsided.

       Shade was suddenly overcome by the desire for a drink.
He thought briefly of the Dragon's Inn but discarded that
notion after recalling his last visit.   It would be wiser
to let that particular incident cool for a while before
popping in again.   There was another bar within walking
distance.  He could see it up ahead of him, on the next
block.  A slim man with silver hair was just going in.




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



        Tadmaster raked a hand through his silvery mane, then
pushed his way through the swinging doors.  His eyes roamed
the interior of the inn in admiration, before turning at last
to the bar itself.  He boldly pushed his way forward through
the crowd and hooked one foot on the brass rail that ran its
length.  Subtly, he scanned for the dreaded sign which said
'No Credit'.  Not seeing one, he relaxed.

      He drummed his fingers on the surface of the bar with
what he imagined was the right mixture of authority and
impatience.  He waited for one of the exotic bartenders to
take his order.  He waited, and waited . . . and waited.

"What can I do for you?" the bartender growled, finally
making his way to Tadmaster's part of the bar.

       While enduring his interminable wait, the young mage
had spent the time composing a fittingly sarcastic remark
to this inevitable question.  But now, looking into the
bartender's imperturbable gaze, his need to express his ire
had faded. In fact, he couldn't remember what he had meant
to say.

"I'll have...  I'll have an ale." he said in what he hoped
was an assured manner.

       The bartender remained where he was, gazing at the
young mage with those inhuman eyes.  Tadmaster stared back
at him, his throat tightening and his neck burning hotter
and hotter.  Finally he couldn't stand it any longer.
  "What?!?" he shouted in perplexity.

"Which kind of ale would you like?" the bartender asked
impassively.

"Oh.  Give me... a Budvaeider."  The bartender turned away
with what might have been a sneer, and began drawing the
young mage's drink.


       Tadmaster began drumming his fingers again, nervously.
This wasn't going the way he had anticipated at all.
Although this was his first time in a bar, he had expected
a mage to engender a little more... well, respect.  He
craned his neck, trying to unobtrusively see how the other
patrons were comporting themselves.

"That will be one," the bartender said, placing a large
tankard in front of the mage.

"Of course it will be one, I just got here."

"No,"  The bartender's eyes gleamed with what might have
been humor.  "That's one silver piece for the ale."

"Oh."  Tadmaster felt a surge of panic at the mention of
immediate payment. "I thought,seeing as I am a mage," he
said, "I would be entitled to... certain... well, you
know... " the mage trailed off awkwardly.  The bartender
stood across from the young mage in silence, staring.

"I thought that I would be entitled to run a tab!"
Tadmaster blurted out.

"Ah," the bartender said.

"Ah," Tadmaster said, smiling.

"So you're a mage who rates a line of credit, eh?" the
bartender mused thoughtfully.

"Well, yeah."  I would think so," Tadmaster's face was
beginning to ache from maintaining his confident smile.

"Are you a member of the Mage's Guild Governing Body?" the
bartender asked suddenly.

"Well... no," Tadmaster admitted.

"Are you employed by or affiliated with one of the Greater
Houses of Commerce?" the bartender continued.

"Er... no," Tadmaster said, his smile beginning to fade.

"Are you a graduate of one of the three Greater Schools of
Higher Learning?"  The bartender pressed on with the merci-
less interrogation.

"No, I am from the school of Dreamweaving."  Tadmaster said,
a little defensively.  His confidence had completely
vanished.

"Have you actually graduated at all?"  The bartender's eyes
blazed into his.  They seemed to burn into the young mage's
brain.

"Well, not officially, although it's really only a matter
of some formalities involving one or two final exams...."
Tadmaster trailed off as the bartender pulled the tankard
away from him.

"No drink?" the mage asked plaintively.

"Actually, little mageling, I think that we might be able
to help you out," the bartender purred, putting a huge paw
on the young man's shoulder.

"Really?"





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

                    THE STUMBLE INN


         Shade was looking up at the sign and trying to
decide whether to go in or not, when something came flying
out the door with great velocity.  The object impacted with
considerable force directly in front of him.  When the cloud
of dust had settled, the object turned out to be a frail and
scholarly looking young man with a wild mane of silver hair.
The young man got to his knees painfully, looking plain-
tively back at the inn he had just exited with such gusto.

"Maybe they should rename it the Stumble Out."  Shade
remarked.  The young man turned a wet purple gaze on the
warrior and said nothing. He seemed resigned to more abuse.

"That was insensitive of me,"  Shade said, "Please forgive
my poor manners."

       He extended a scarred hand as he apologized, pulling
the slight youth to his feet.  In the process of brushing
the young man off he noticed the academy robe.  Shade
rubbed his jaw thoughtfully and scrutinized the young man
a little closer.

"Not too fond of students in there, eh?"

"Just one more aspect of society that refuses to recognize
potential," the mage agreed sadly, looking at his bene-
factor more closely.

"Did you know that you have had a curse placed on you?" he
asked, his voice oddly matter of fact.

       Shade stiffened, and although the mage was oblivious,
danger hung in the air.  "I wasn't aware that other people
could see it," the outlander said after a long moment.

"Oh, I am sure that they can't." the young mage said
breezily as he inspected his skinned palms.  "It's just
that as a member of the Dreamweaver School, I have been
trained to see things that are invisible to mere mortals."

       Shade smiled at the youth's lofty manner. If the
mageling's second sight was as keen as he claimed, he would
probably be pounding down the street in terror.  "What is
your name, oh great and powerful mage?" Shade asked.

        The young man stiffened, searching Shade's face for
some hint of mockery.  He found none, but then again, a long
life had tended to make Shade a bit inscrutable.  "My name
is Tadmaster," the mage said, extending his hand tena-
tively.

        Shade enveloped the mage's delicate hand in his own
powerful one and shook it gravely.  "You can call me Jake,"
he said, turning the mage about and steering him up the
street.

"You know, I'm new in town, and it occurs to me that there
is no one better qualified to answer my questions than a
member of the illustrious Dreamweavers."

       Tadmaster felt as if he were being swept away by an
irresistable tide. "I really should get back to my studies,"
he protested feebly.

"Of course, it would probably be best if we found another
inn and had our discussion over a few ales," Shade inter-
jected smoothly.  "My treat, of course."

Tadmaster grinned, running his hand through his unruly
silver mane. "Then again, I am aceing all of my courses,"
the mage amended himself hastily.

"I'm sure that you are," Shade said, putting one arm about
the mage's shoulder in a comradely fashion as they walked
towards the next watering hole. The warrior grinned at the
young man walking next to him.

"You know, Tad, you remind me of another mage and scholar
I once knew.  His name was Rune . . . ."



*********************************************************
Jake Shade, Tadmaster, and the mage known as Rune are all
copyrights of Jeff A. Simon, 1995.  All rights reserved.
The Stumble Inn appears courtesy of James Moore.  Editing
by Steve Hutchison and Kent Peterson.   The reprinting of
this story for profit is prohibited without the express
permission of the author.
*********************************************************


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