the Appointment

They stared at Fred without a word. One of them scratched under her armpit.

Fred stared again at the purple words carved in an older runic dialect of Allarian: Layre o th' Dragoon: App-Ointments Wilkommen. "Well, I uh, would like... that is, I come in peace and want, um, desire... to have an appointment with the Dragon."

A cold breeze blew down into the rock chamber from the vent shaft that reached up, out and into the open heavens above. Although the Shreken mountains were not high enough for snow, they were high enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey (as the saying went in Collins). One of the women turned her back to Fred as the other two unsheathed their battle axes.

"Hey now, no need for any aggression here!" said Fred.

When the third woman returned her gaze to Fred she was holding a parchment. She held it out to Fred who took it. It read: Dours open at one-halfe past th' rising soun on th' sand clocke; bringe I.D.

"Damn!" cursed Fred. "I've gotta wait till the morning?!!?"

The armored women nodded their heads in silence. Fred could still hear the sound of yapping from behind the small door set into the stone.

1. Can Fred afford to wait till morning? Will he wait or will he attack with reckless abandon? YOU decide!!!
2. Where is Velus? Does that yip-yapping belong to him?
3. What about those silent women... did the cat get their tongue? And would Fred ever ask such a thing?
4. Fred bows his head and returns to the Gladiator Pit to wait...
5. Fred decides to attempt a climb up the ventilation shaft...
6. Fred hopes to disorient the three guardswomen by singing a song about zombie cows who could fly...

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