Yet Another Conscript

[DoS Archive]

From: lusath@aol.com (Lusath)
Date: 08 Jan 1999 07:38:24 EST


Lusath had arrived late, after a long delay where his ship had had to run quartered sail in front of a typhoon in the Great Western Sea, and then having to fend off several bands of brigands on his way overland, he had arrived nearly two days later than he had planned.
He set up rooms in a local inn, waking a very surly innkeeper in the mid of the early morning, whos' mood improved immensely when Lusath wordlessly plunked a bag of silver imperials on the table to cover a possibly indefinate stay.
He stowed his personal belongings in the room, and then in a fit of sleeplessness headed over to the legendary arena, wanting to get a view of the place that had made its name heard even to the counter continent on the other side of RhyDin.
He walked the silent cobblestone streets, heading for the Red Dragon complex, thinking to himself. He had given title to his lands and the hereditary rank of Baron to his oldest son, Arkan. His heart had gone out of much of his life when his wife Selana had died of the falling sickness. After months of inaction and frustration he had turned his back on Gormangaurd and headed east. The Arena would give him a place to bury himself.
He stepped inside the complex and headed down the stairs into the basement annex which was the Arenas home, looking over the place for the first time out of story and in real life. Noting the bar, he dipped a dark ale out of the vat and walked around the large room, stopping and reading a bit of the things on the boreds, the furrow in his brow growing more pronounced with each new bit of parchment.
With a grunt, Lusath reached up and adjusted the haft of his axe on his back, settling its weight more snuggly and turned from the boards, rubbing at his beard as he strode out of the empty Arena to get some rest before the evening started.