The beach petered out into grass and stone and scrub. The water turned
into a powerful stream. Tall trees loomed like angry parents. Then they noticed the Inn. One step, it had been blocked by the pattern of trees, the next they saw the three story building, with bright lights, many carriages outside, stables and the ugliest damn roof they had ever seen. It had dips and points and paints and chiseling...it looked as if several drunken carpenters were held at arrow point and told to do the worst job they could. Fred and Astra ventured forward. The wind kicked up. The rustling of the leaves and branches and the hooting caused by the holes in the roofwork drowned out any probably sound from inside the inn. "Odd place." said Astra. "I don't like it." "I need a beer." replied Fred. "I'll take lots of weirdness for a good lager." A small, red and white sign hanging by the door informed them this was 'The Cliche Inn'. In tinier letters, hard to read, 'Party-members to be hired, weapons to be bought, health potions, one gold coin'. Fred and Astra entered.
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2/28/2003 3:15:35 AM
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