Fort Weyr - Gemstone Tavern

The dim lighting by the flicker of candles lining the walls is enough to offer a view of a room decorated in such a way as to be tastefully appealing. Each piece of furniture and decoration is chosen to accent another piece, and so on and so forth, matching and tying the whole room together in a theme that's separate, and yet at the same time unified. Tables line one wall, dimly lit by candles hanging in sconces all along. The bar along the far right wall is made of richly toned mahogany, tooled by a master and polished to shine with the soft glow of wood at its finest.
Candles strategically placed add to the atmosphere, accenting, punctuating. Towards the back is an open fireplace, constantly burning with a bright light, warming the tavern on cold nights and serving as a gathering place for patrons' story-tellings. Across the room, lush pillows and soft-covered floors promote relaxation at ease. Just before the pillows is a long stage, so full of its own vigor and memory - nicks here, marks there, scuffs from footware and other things - that it's possible to imagine the shows put on for the patrons without necessarily seeing the performances.

It's a strange day when the post-lunch crowd is so huge at a tavern mostly known for late-night drinking, fireside storytelling and boisterous loud music, but it's nearing three and the Gemstone is pretty full. Therefore, the staff is out in full force keeping people fed and entertained, and there's a band happily playing some sort of shanty tune. Inyri has manning the bar to herself, and mostly has the /bar/ to herself as well — patrons are at tables in groups, so while she's sometimes filling a pint it's only to hand it off to someone else who's going to take it to a table. So instead of talking to much of anyone, Inyri's playing with her hair and quietly singing along to the band as she fills glasses with water and lines them up.

K'drozen pushes his way slowly in though the bar looking about in a bit of disbeleif at the crowd, shifting though the crowd he makes his way to the bar proper, mummbling "Wow you guys are hopping today."

"Yep," Inyri agrees, though she's grinning as she says so. "It's insane. Isn't it fun? And the song's good." At least she isn't singing it anymore, and now that she's got a proper customer, she delicately slides all of the filled glasses off to one side. Even if technically that's just sliding one and relying on it to push all the others; it works. She's evidently well-practiced. No spills. "Get you something, sir?"

K'drozen says, "Whats the house special today?" he looks to the bad for a moment and nods about the song before looking to the bartender again, "Yeah it is pretty good"

"Drink's a Tillek pale ale," Inyri explains, as she wipes out a fresh glass from under the bar with a towel, just in case. "And for food we've got scallop piccata. Fish in oil and a really good sauce," she adds, because those fancy chef words outside 'scallop,' something she's very used to as a fisherman's kid, are totally foreign to her as well. "I recommend them both, actually, as a person who's consumed 'em as well as the staff, but we've also got a drink menu as long as a brown dragon's tail if you wanted to look at it."

K'drozen chuckles softly as he takes a seat, "I will take you up on those suggestions but would love to see a drink lists as along as my Rhyrith's tail."

Inyri hesitates half a moment, realizing slowly that she is, in fact, talking to a brownrider — and so maybe should've edited the phrase slightly to pick a different color dragon! Alas, too late; she pulls out the drink menu anyway, and while it may not be a single long piece of paper that is as long as Rhyrith's tail, it is many pages long. "I haven't had anyone measure for sure," she explains, placing it on the bar in front of K'drozen, "but if you'd like to get the lengths of the pages and then make a comparison to his tail, I'm sure we'd all love to find out how close it really comes! Anyway, I'll put the order in."

K'drozen chuckles and says, "Not to worry at all, Maybe I will bring him over to see later.' he grins, and sits back.

"If you could get him through the door, I would be /so/ impressed," Inyri quips, and then vanishes into the kitchen. When she's back a couple minutes later, she serves up some of that Tillek ale and presents it to the brownrider. "One half of the house special! Other half's on the — not grill, pan, really. Being seared."

K'drozen chuckles and says soflty, "Don't temp him he might try and the damage would be impressive…' he lifts the ale and says, "What brought in the crowd today anyways, never seen it this busy in here?"

"Um. It's a caravan. Of. Something," Inyri eventually concludes, considering nobody's actually told her. Yet. She's been too busy with the bar to piece together what's been going on with everyone. "A shipment of things; not quite a tithe train, but I think a lot of them are traders coming through. And we love it when traders come through. It gets wild, and it's the kind of wild a good tavern deserves. Even if things have been kind of weird with fugitives at large, and all. Everybody coming in's got a story about how they saw Laris. I bet none of them did."

K'drozen smirks and says, "I have been over in the search team looking for him." he shifts slightly ands ays, "If you hear anything that sounds crediable let me know." he lifts his ale and takes a sip, "I'm K'drozen by the way, I am sure you know my weyrmate Jaye she is in here all the time."

Inyri confesses, looking slightly glum, "I hear so much I can't promise I'd be able to /tell/ if it was credible, but I promise I'll keep my ear to the ground — oh! Yes. I know who Jaye is; she's got that brown with the amazing tongue twister name? Starts with M, yeah?" Any of Inyri's attempts to actually say 'Maehwazeyeth' aren't worth listening to, and it's similarly not worth her embarrassing herself. "So are you both on the search party? Care to let me in on what definitely /isn't/ credible?"

K'drozen says, "I can't say for sure, we are searching several leads at this time but can't say much more then that we can't say."

Well, Inyri's face only falls slightly at that. She's not letting herself pout, and is hiding the instinctive urge to sulk. "Aw. Well. I mean. I'll just write down everything I hear, then, I guess, and inundate y'all in information — if something sounds like it lines up with another lead, there you go!" Something in the background goes 'ding,' and Inyri stands up straighter. "Just a moment," she says, and turns on a heel — when she's back, it's with his food. "I'm guessing you just wanted to eat this here, and not at a table? And did I forget to give my name? It's Inyri."

K'drozen smiles ands ays, "It is nice to meet you inyri." he grins and says softly "The tables are a bit busy you know." he smiels and says "It is good to be back over here for now.. been stayin in a less then plesant place with Jaye the last few days. Just home to check on Kaylen before heading back over."

"Well, being on a search party can't be the most awesome way to spend your day or sleeping time, I'm sure — yeah, I don't blame you for not wanting a table," Inyri tacks on, returning to the first subject second. "The busy days apparently come and go like this, I haven't been here long enough to be able to say. If there's anything I can do to make the visit home more comfortable besides the scallops and the ale, just let me know!" She grins, pushing a tiny piece of loose hair away from her face. "Unfortunately, I can't do free refills, but other than that."

K'drozen chuckles and says, "No worries there I will likely only have one or two, I have to between back to Xanadu before to long." he reaches up to brush his hair out of his face.

It has been Turns and Turns since Anoryn ever set foot in Fort Weyr, despite having a son among the riders. Colder climates no longer agree with her in the age that she has achieved and though she's just shy of her sixtieth Turn, she bares herself well. Her once black hair, now more grey then anything, falls straight and flat behind her shoulders, the sides and bangs plaited and joined together in a single tail behind her back. Tall and lean and with only a hint of stiffness to her movements, she walks briskly into the Gemstone Tavern, sharp blue eyes scanning the larger then normal crowd for the time of day with a mixture of curiosity and aloofness. The Xanadu rider had likely come here in hopes of crossing paths with her fellow riders, but it seems none are there as her lips press into a firm line of disappointment. To make the venture not entirely for naught, Anoryn turns to stride over to the bar, promptly taking a seat and giving K'drozen a polite, respectful nod once she glimpses his knot. As for Inyri, the greenrider waits patiently for her to make the first move and greeting, but at least a small smile is given and a low, "Afternoon." Murmured just high enough to be heard above the din.

"Enjoy it while you've got the time — I certainly won't rush you out at any point," Inyri tells K'drozen, totally tuning out the din of the crowd to focus on those of her clientele who are actually coming near her. The arrival of Anoryn has her quickly jumping to the task of making her newest customer welcome. "Ma'am," she says with a sociable smile, upticked more on one side than the other. "Come in for a drink? Some of the fresh scallops everyone's raving about? Or would you like to see a menu?"

K'drozen looks up and smiles brightly as he spots Anoryn and motions her over and say "Hey there Anoryn!" as his eyes fall apon his old weyrling master, "How are you today ma'am?"

"A drink to start would be great," Anoryn replies to Inyri, her voice low and gruff and lightly accented. "Strongest ale you got. And if the ale is not strong, then a dark stout will do." The greenrider gives another one of those small smiles of hers, "You've lured quite the crowd here and prior to the after dinner rush most taverns are known for. Is it just the scallops bringing folks here or have I missed some interesting tidbit of detail?" she drawls softly to the barmaid and upon hearing her name, Anoryn turns her head to regard K'drozen sharply. It takes a moment but recognition kicks in and there's no denying the surprise in her features then. "K'drozen?" Another quick glance to the knot. "Fortian now, are you? It's been some time then. Good to see you are well." Then she makes a dismissive wave of her hand. "Eh, I figured I'd come to Fort while the weather is still mild enough. Seems we've enough Fortian visitors of late… only fair the favor is returned?" She muses cryptically, gaze sliding back to Inyri as well if she is still there.

Indeed, Inyri's still there; she's able to serve up ale right from the tap she's pretty much standing at, and so it only takes her about a minute to present Anoryn with a pint. "Caravan of traders came through at the same time a bunch of people really wanted scallops, far as I can tell," she admits with a smile and a tiny shrug. "If there's more to it, I don't know. I mean, everyone's talking about how they saw a fugitive, but their stories are almost entirely different from one another so as of right now I don't believe any of 'em. The scallops are really amazing, though. So's the ale, in my opinion — hope you like it!"

With K'drozen indisposed, Anoryn turns her full attention back to Inyri and gives an appreciative smile when the pint is presented. Grasping it, her other hand fishes out the correct payment, along with a tip and once the payment is settled only then does the greenrider take a sip. She makes a low noise of agreement, either to the barmaid's comment or her wordless approval to the ale (or both), but once the pint is set back to the bar's surface, she speaks up again. "Fortunate timing then," The greenrider remarks dryly, "And the ale is good. Robust. Not some of the watery stuff I've had that tries to claim the name!" There's a scoff to that and then Anoryn is frowning a little, leveling Inyri with a long and searching look. "Folk will always claim they've seen the monster in the shadows to impress their friends or for the bravado. There's always a grain of truth among the lies though. But it's doubtful this… fugitive is within Fort boundaries." By the last of her reply, Anoryn's voice has pitched to a quieter level, the greenrider leaning forwards on her seat.

"What I figured," Inyri confesses in a matched lower tone, giving away that she has, actually, been figuring anything at all. "I mean, people are in here boasting about all sorts of things all the time. I've only been around a month and change, but I'm getting used to that. This is new, though; all this talk of fugitives and trying to chase 'em down. The only reason I don't doubt the entire story is because of serving the search parties, otherwise I'd just think men who wanted attention made it up. We didn't hear talk about everything behind it all the way up north, so it was all news to me — now everything that comes through this door gets weirder and weirder, as far as stories go. Most of it's not even worth mentioning. Men who want attention — I /am/ glad the ale meets your satisfaction, though! For having not made it, I still have some pride in what I serve." She's either very good at switching between serious and light-hearted to save her own mood, or Inyri really isn't unsettled by all the talk of Laris.

"Of course it's the choice of gossip," Anoryn muses as she sips at her ale, having listened thoughtfully and respectfully silent to Inyri's reply. "Oh, the story is true enough…" she remarks gravely, lips briefly turning down into a grim line before the greenrider shakes herself out of her brooding thoughts. The smile returns, small and polite. "No, word hasn't really gone out, has it?" Is that a subtle jab? Could be, but it's hard to tell as the woman begins to chuckle gruffly. "Most gossip is not worth repeating because it is exactly that: gossip. Rumors." Lies. "Well, it's good to see one tavern in Fort that still serves a good, strong ale. You've been here a month and a bit you say?" Harmless chit-chat really, though Anoryn does fix her with a curious side-glance while more of the ale is consumed. She's caught on to the mix of serious and light-hearted and the older rider decides to play along the same lines.

There's nothing about Inyri that indicates she can't handle essentially carrying on two conversations at once, and she appears to be able to balance it easily enough so far. That, or she's just rising to the challenge. "Yeah, I came from Breakwater. We don't get word of much, honestly; it's kind of the exemplary definition of 'middle of nowhere' out there, except for how maybe it's just slightly north of the middle of nowhere." A shyer smile, and, "I was always kind of fond of it, though. Not that I'm not really loving it here. We do have amazing ale, and at least /some/ of the stories that come through the door are true in addition to being worth hearing."

Anoryn may be laying a few challenges out for Inyri, but they're small ones and subtle, simply the greenrider trying to get a feel for the barmaid and for her personality. To see, perhaps, if she is trustworthy and perhaps a little more, as she is not here to spread fire to the rumors in the end. "Breakwater." She echoes back thoughtfully, fingertips playing with the rim of her pint glass. "North of this region? You'll have to forgive my ignorance. It's been Turns since I have been in these areas. Plus," And her hand lifts from glass to then tap at her forehead, her smile curving to a bit more of a smirk. "I've the excuse of age." There's a snort given then, amusement playing across the greenrider's features. Her mind is just fine, but Anoryn will not be against feigning a few setbacks. That shy smile brings a faint look of nostalgia to the older rider and with a slight sigh, she adds, "Most are always fond of home. It holds a special place… not easily removed. I still hold my home cothold in high regard but… shells, I haven't been there since I was fourteen? Possibly fifteen. But I love it still."

"North of pretty much everything," Inyri explains, attempting to use hand gestures to make it clearer. "Take Fort Hold's lake, and then go all the way to the northernmost point, and that's Breakwater — it's a fishing hold, basically, and the only thing we've got to show for it besides a lot of fish is a tavern that's even louder'n this one. Um, because everyone's always in it when they're not fishing." She laughs, but it's shyer and quieter; the normally shining, extroverted personality turning slightly in on itself. "I certainly don't blame you for not knowing where it is. Not much of claim to fame besides cold and wet."

Anoryn simply nurses her drink while Inyri goes on about her home hold and likely notes the change in the barmaid since the conversation turned towards it. "Despite it being so remote, it sounds like a quiet and prosperous place. Perhaps in the summer months I'll take Rysith northward. It will do her some good I think." There's a slight quirk of her mouth into a broader smile when the tavern is mentioned and that there is no blame on her for not knowing the hold's location. So the greenrider simply shrugs and moves on to other topics, "Do you live in the Weyr then or do you live nearby to here? Or…" And she glances towards the stairs and up to the second floor and her gaze turns thoughtful. "…in here?" she continues distractedly.

Inyri is just a little bit more enthusiastic as she lets herself laugh at the greenrider's final question. "Oh, no, I live at the Weyr! But I wish I could live here. The proprietor lives here, I'm just the most reliable member of the staff." It sounds like a quote, something said to her, more than like boasting; she looks proud, though. "So I basically live here. I'm here six days a week, but I wouldn't choose to be anywhere else — I get bored easily, and being able to talk to new people all the time's something I value." It's earnest, more than just trying to sound like a sound bite at a job interview.

Anoryn smiles crookedly over the rim of her pint, draining the last of the ale in a few slow swigs before setting the now empty glass down. "My misunderstanding then," she muses, nothing the girl's boasting and proud state despite seeming to quote her words. "Living in the Weyr has its perks, that it does. You'll never quite be bored, that is for /certain/." The greenrider points out with a knowing look and tone. Then she chuckles dryly again, "A tavern seems to fit you well then for employment. You said there have been many tales of this fugitive? Nothing more?"

"Well, I don't think I've seen him, that's for sure," Inyri offers with a slightly more nervous laugh — it's still tossed out, nonchalant, but there's a layer of nerves underneath it. What else /would/ there have been? "That I would hope someone would have noticed. But you're right about not finding boredom as easily as I once may have. Did you want another?" Ale, presumably, and not set of rumors.

Actually, she wouldn't mind both but Anoryn does make the signal that yes, she would enjoy another ale. "Very few have seen him in the flesh. Those that are still /alive/," the greenrider stresses, not that that tidbit is any new news and she notes the nervousness and in an effort to keep the barmaid from becoming too undone, she adds quietly, "I suppose word /hasn't/ reached this far yet…" Frowning, she turns thoughtful again as if considering some great choice. In the end, she only shrugs and shakes her head. "It'll be known soon enough," she mutters to herself and then glances up, blue eyes focusing sharply on Inyri, "Last I heard, Laris was confirmed long gone from Fort. Xanadu is where he's apparently surfaced, with that Fortian girl of his. That's what's got us two Weyrs mingling, besides the usual good natured trade of goods and food. Do you even know the true description of the man…?" Anoryn sounds genuinely curious now, perhaps deviously. Maybe she wants to hear all the colorful stories Inyri may have heard. It'll be good for a laugh, after all on an otherwise grim and serious issue, right?

Inyri maintains her calm, for the most part. Nervousness may bubble under her skin, but she's good at ignoring it — pushing it aside. "Honestly? No." It's a wry, half-hearted laugh that accompanies, "For all I know he's blue-skinned with purple hair considering how many different varieties I've heard. You'd think search parties would be putting up signs and wanted posters — either way, I've been hearing everything from blonde and freckled to dark-haired and bronze-skinned. 'Big nose' is the only thing I can think of as a constant, so of course you're going to tell me that he doesn't have a big nose, right?" Inyri /is/ smiling; she never /quite/ loses her cool or her ability to laugh at things. Or else, she hasn't yet. "I'm also hearing that the weyrling goldrider, um, Jajenelja? People think she's his sister or daughter or some kind of plant on the Weyr from Laris. Which has got to be stupid — a gold wouldn't pick her, then." Right, dragonrider who would know better? Of course right. (/Right?/)

Anoryn tilts her head back and laughs in her usual gruff and very non-feminine sort of way for Inyri's reply and the greenrider truly and well amused this time. "Aye, I agree with you there." She drawls, still chuckling in her mirth. "Considering what I've heard muttered back down in Xanadu, you may be seeing posters soon enough." That much she supplies and with another small and crooked smile. There's a snort for the descriptions the barmaid gives and it's followed by a shake of her head. "It's his hand, actually. Or so /I've/ heard." Anoryn stresses, while lifting one of her hands up and bending some of the fingers down, watching Inyri as she does, to see if the girl follows along. "They say he has a hand with missing fingers like this. You'd think that'd be widespread! Shells. No wonder the man disappeared. Folk don't even know who they're supposed to hunt." Scoffing, the greenrider leans onto the bartop, arms crossed over the surface and then Inyri is getting to something /really/ interesting, for suddenly Anoryn is fixed on her keenly, thin brows arced up high. Hello-o. "I am not Fortian and I'm afraid I was tied up with Xanadu's weyrlings to hear much of the latest bunch to hatch here. Another gold, eh? Fortune favors them, then. As for this… Jajenelja. Well, those rumors are likely improbable." She admits and then her features settle into a graver tone and her voice becomes low and serious. "Not all rider's are good. We get some bad apples among the lot. Not very common and they aren't usually bad to start but… Folk change. Folk can be warped. Riders among 'em. Some go rogue."

"It's a rather horrific name," is Inyri's main opinion of the newest goldrider. "I mean, I don't know the dragon's name, but hers — I'm not even sure I got it right." She did, at least, get a chance to refill the greenrider's ale this time — the glass is refilled, as Inyri listens and lets things percolate through her mind again. "But there really should have been posters, though — apparently — it'd be more fitting to have posters done of his hand than his sparkly violet-tinted face."

Anoryn gives Inyri a long look, expression unreadable for her opinion on Fort's newest weyrling goldrider but in the end the greenrider agrees. "It is a mouthful, but not the worst. I'm surprised it was not shortened…but perhaps her gold - oh, it's Iaverulth by the way - preferred it long." There's a brisk nod of thanks as the ale is refilled and the greenrider promptly returns to sipping at the second ale. Luckily she's swallowed by the time the barmaid is done, as she goes through another fit of chuckling. "There /will/ be posters, lass. Trust me. There were things that occurred in Xanadu, or so I've been hearing… Seems to me like this will become a Pern-wide situation soon enough." Is it the truth? Or simply the old rider's personal opinion?

"Seems kind of crazy," Inyri says, in a way that's light and even more nonchalant than any of her earlier laughs, "that one person could do so much to such a wide expanse of space. And Weyrs, too. I don't really understand it, I'll admit. How one person could get away with so much. Alone." If she's hinting at anything, though, it's curiosity; it's clear in her eyes and the way she speaks that Inyri doesn't know a thing. Which certainly doesn't hide that she wants to.

Anoryn tilts her head a little to the side, frowning a little as she listens attentively again to Inyri. Her reply is delayed though, as she favors taking a slow, ponderous sip of her ale and more time after that to savor it. Eventually though, the greenrider ventures to enlighten the barmaid just a little more. Regardless if this is information she should be sharing or not. Maybe she's beyond caring? "Then there is one logical conclusion," she points out with a slightly smug like smile. "Laris isn't working alone. He wasn't alone to start, right? Sure, Fort did a good job of rounding up most of his men from his band here. The women and children too, but some escaped that fight. Or he had more allies somewhere or gained some. There are always unsavory types lurking about or the dissatisfied. Only takes a few well placed whispers and words and just like that!" And she snaps her fingers for emphasis. "You've got a group."

Well, if Anoryn doesn't care, at least Inyri does. She appears quietly thrilled at being included on this particular tidbit of news. "I'd heard there had been others but figured once they were out of the picture — well, we can tell how non-criminal /my/ mind works, I suppose. Since I wasn't figuring on there being someone at every corner for him to team up with. I just wonder what's in it for them." Made thirsty by the conversation, she steals the last remaining glass of water from her earlier queue, the others having been claimed by waitresses, for herself. "And if they're all really on his side. Maybe one of Xanadu's riders might catch one, get an informant or something. Am I overly dramatizing this? Because now I feel like I'm in some Harper story."

Anoryn probably does care, somewhere in the back of her mind but perhaps the greenrider is simply lonely. Seems a little strange that the Xanadu rider is sitting on her lonesome in a Fortian tavern outside of the Weyr, after all. So one can be too picky over who they choose to converse with. "To that I have no idea. It's hard to tell what drives renegades. Some are nothing more then petty thieves or folks driven to a hard life because they've known no else or have no other choice. Some are… well, I suppose twisted in the head is one way of putting it. Others are drawn into the seedier lifestyle. I've seen many a kind of renegade in my lifetime, though I always figured they stuck to the southern lands and islands. Imagine my surprise when such a… criminal as Laris surfaced in Fort." So she doesn't know the whole story it seems, but she's been able to piece enough to form her own opinion. How far off the mark it is… well, Inyri can decide that herself. "Hardly," Anoryn reassures with a small chuckle. "And sad to say, this /is/ a Harper's story. Became one the moment that cothold met it's fate. And perhaps a Xanadu rider will find an informant. Could be a Fortian rider too. Or Western, Ista, Eastern… any of the Weyrs, really."

Inyri makes great company, after all. Ale and ridiculous gossip! "Makes sense to be born to it, I guess, but — yeah," she adds, wry smile reforming as Anoryn reminds her it really is more like being inside a novel than real life. "Hard to figure out what's real and what's not, sometimes. If I knew anyone who knew how to get inside that kind of world, I'd probably offer to send them Fort or Xanadu's way — or anyone's, I suppose — but I can't say I do. I wonder why it is people assume the south's more crime prone; you're not the first person I've heard say that." But it's an idle thought, a rhetorical question — she's back to drinking her water before acting as if she expects an answer.

"Indeed," Anoryn agrees with a slightly twisted smile, her ale sought out again for another few silent sips of it. Surprising how much she can take and not even look the slightest bit flushed from the effects! "You don't want to get into that "world". Trust me." She points out, her tone suddenly serious and edging on a warning. "Best stick to being neutral in your curiosity. But if you do hear something… yes, you'd best send them to Fort or Xanadu or send the word yourself. Easy enough to do." Realizing she's been caught generalizing with the usual stereotypes, Anoryn can only chuckle and give a slight shrug of her shoulders. "Better climates, I always said." Not the most elaborate of answers but it's one all the same. Suddenly, the greenrider straightens in her seat, eyes unfocusing to that distracted look all riders get. Then with a sigh, she knocks back the last of the ale and begins to push back her stool. "Seems like my time here is over. I'm needed back in Xanadu. Pleasure speaking with you…" And there's a pause there, as Anoryn realizes she has no name to give. Oops?

"Oh! Shells, I'm sorry — Inyri." The name's owner doesn't always think of introducing herself anyway, considering the setting, but she still offers the hand-wave universally translated to 'my fault.' "And I'll keep both of my ears to the ground, as promised; only metaphorically, though, I'd rather not be stepped on." Despite the unpleasant mental image, she's smiling as she offers Anoryn a friendly salute in parting — and, of course, gets about four seconds to herself to finish her water before another customer distracts her.

'The World of Pern(tm)' and 'The Dragonriders of Pern(r)' are copyright to Anne McCaffrey (c) l967, 2000. This is a recorded online session, by permission of the author but generated on PernWorld MUSH for the benefit of people unable to attend.