Wyrmsting entered the establishment yet again after a brief absence for mind-cleansing solitude. Uncertain which door he would pass through first this evening, he instead opted for a short-term decision : he headed for the bar, where he would order his usual glass of warm milk with a mint sprig.

As he had approached the Inn, he had heard talk of a theft involving a cake, Alaccrity, Grugg, and a hithertofore-unknown hero. By the time of Wyrm's arrival, though, all evidence of any set-to or brouhaha had been cleaned up and out. Looking over the large common room as he passed through it, he noticed quite a few of the more popular of the Inns "notables", as he called them. Some he knew, some he didn't -- very well. Others he knew not at all, but those were just friends he hadn't met yet. Also present were quite a few that he had "seen in passing" but had never been able to pin down for a conversation -- not yet.

He always enjoyed his visits to the Red Dragon Inn, never having to bring money for drinks, or pay for the beverages of others. He didn't gamble, either. Any gear he needed was held in lockers in the respective rooms he gamed in, the contents of each depending on the persona he was assuming at the time. And while he had noticed provisions for locks on the lockers, he had seldom seen any used. Such was the air of trust and comraderie at this wonderful, and sometimes wondrous, establishment.

Picking up his glass of milk, Wyrmsting lifted it in salute to Lysk and Sibelius, then "offered it" again at Meri and Dragon Mistress. As he pulled the glass to him to take a sip, he caught the last of loud words upstairs. It sounded like the voice of Almerin, but Wyrm souldn't be certain of it. 'poke Grugg with his scepter?". Yup, that would be the Toad King, alright.

Wyrm hadn't decided yet as to where his presence would first be felt, so he remained at the bar until the decision was made, looking at the rommon room occupants and smiling at the general feeling of good will ...

An 18-inch-small brownie enters, dressed in light green, with a dark brown vest. Contrasting these earthen colors are fine boots and a Robin-Hood-style cap, both of red patent-leather. He pulls behind him a little red wagon that has a a double-railing of wood around the "bed". Above this railing is a wooden framework with a sign, running from the front of the wagon to the back. The sign reads:

"Mikey's Strolling Salmagundie Wagon"
"Menu: "
. . . . . . "Salmagundie (mixed seafood stew)"
. . . . . . "Caramel Popcorn"

A long reed poking vertically out of one corner to a height of about five or six feet. At the top of the reed is affixed a red flag with the letters "MSSW" in white lettering. As he passes by, the strong aroma of the fish stew wafts to the olfactory organs of those he passes, strong, pungent and, to some few, unpleasant.

In the interior of the wagon can be seen a polished-steel counter-top with two lidded openings, one round and one square. Steam escapes from under the round lid in fits and spurts, and it is obviously from here the aroma emanates.

He knows no one here, but that doesn't daunt him, no it doesn't. He jauntily pulls the wagon over to the end of the bar, lifts the square lid in the wagon, and pulls out a penny-whistle. Closing the lid, he turns and climbs a stool, perching atop it with legs folded at the knees and crossed at the ankles. He pauses, smiles at those who are looking at him, then takes a deep breath and lauches into a fast and lively reel, bobbing his shoulders and head as he rocks back and forth in time to the music ...

He only pauses a second or two to let his audience know that the song has ended before quickly beginning yet another ditty. In this fashion, he plays 7 songs in a row, all lively tunes with a tone and rhythm for dancing, in case anyone would seem so inclined.

After this introductory set, the brownie rests his elbows on his knees, still smiling, and scans the room in silence ...

DM excuses herself from the group and heads to a door with a plaque denotion it to be Free-form in the Future. A bit later she returns with a dejected look, and less than gracefully plops down on a chair beside Meri.

"We've been deserted, abandon!" There is deep sadness in her voice. "Meri we have to find a GM for Operation Presophone. Our characters are to wonderful to just let die."

"I have put out a post in Recruitment trying to find someone to take over. We could easily commandeer an entire new ship, and if any of the Captains return it could be worked out. I was thinking we could all act as Moderators as it is a Free-form game. We could even commandeer a Romulan Bird of Prey to carry out the mission."

"What do you think?"

Merideth turns her head to look up at DM, after a flurry of writting she has been sitting staring blankly at her page for some time now.. she blinks a little as DM speaks to her.
And then starts to laugh a little, "Sojourn is lovely yes... and I've put alot of time into her, but... trust me you don't want her running anything more complicated than a green house. And for that matter you really don't want me running anything even as complicated as a green house. You know I have one plant and it only survives because it is rather hearty and I've got it in the middle of my kitchen where it is really hard to ignore. Did you see the hack job I did for the Borden Murder Case? Yes pun intended... but seriously I killed it good... let it bleed to death due to my own incompetency. Girl I just be waiting for Eol to get some time with his muse or let someone else just tell me what to do... especially in futuristic worlds, I'm a -history- major." She grins.
"Besides I've lost my muse along with dear old Eol at the moment. And what little bit I got left..." She stares at the blank page in front of her, "is trying to go into a D&D campaign, not that it's gone all that very far..." She sighs, and makes a few doodles on the page.
"You know? Maybe our muses our out having an affair... I wouldn't put it past them, flighty little things they are. I guess once the puppy love fades we'll get them back..."

"Glad you are feeling better. Well, I killed a cactus once. I watch it die in front of my face. I was to give it a teaspoon of water once a week and forgot to do so for 3 weeks, so I gave it a teaspoon of water and it went into celluar collapse. It keeled over and died in front of me."

"As for your Muse, my art instructor advised, never look at a blank canvas."

"My biggest problem in writing is that my body, writing or typing, can not keep up with my mind. When my words start falling behind I just write the key words and leave space to rewrite later."

"I do think for the Operation Presophone that shorter posts would be of more help to everyone, that way we do not have to try to get so much information into one post."

"I am hoping Mac returns soon, I have put a lot of background working into Romulan history and events around the time period, Including S'Talon's part in these events, he being the darkhorse in the game."

"As for thet rest of my games I am trying not to die again in Kaylen's Forgotten Realms game, Trying to stay alive in Almerin's Chakran Portal game, and getting out alive after playing Bootskull with the Orc's Champion Team."

"There are my other games too, but not yet so involved as they are just starting or are slow.

DM stands up and waves, "Barmaid bring some mead, Meri and I are going to toast the Muse."

Then she waves to the guy with the wagon, "Hey Shorty, How about some Carmel Corn."

And here's our cloaked fellow again, appeared from the bar and kitchen looking a skosh worse for the wear! A few extra rends in his cloak seem to be the worst of it though, and a tankard seems to be the sum of his spoils.

"...and as for the rapier that hung by his side, we flung it as far as we could in the tide - to the-'ere now, what's this?" he sputters over, breaking mid-verse, taking in the rearranged (and somewhat diminished) crowd. "Have I missed something, then? It happens rather a lot, I'm afraid..."

Heaving a shrug, he slides a chair 'cross the floor to the nearest conversant folk - Meri and DM, whether it's good luck or bad.

"D'you know if anyone's fed the thing in the icebox of late?"

"Sorry, CD I am not into self torture. I don't go anywhere near that frig."

BytheBy what happened to you? You have the look of an alley cat caught in a thunderstorm."

Gives CD a good looking over. Tough luck, huh."

One of the doors marked 'Wanted' on it opened up slowly and a little grey kitty came bounding out and settled itself at the feet of Meri, who looked down at it, smiled and then turned back to the room. It was an interesting group of people in the room now.
" Oh you mean that vending machine thing? Yes you really should pay it attention now and then. It is dangerous but I have a feeling it is more dangerous if you don't feed it than if you do. I have the same feeling about our Grugg as well, though not everyone agrees with me on that point." She shrugged slightly at the man who had asked the question.

DM look at the kitten and calls to it. "Here Kitty, Kitty," she patted her leg hoping it would join her. She loved cats especially cats that liked being petted. Her cat at home was a bit dememted from a time when it had been in a fight and had gotten an infection in is head. She hated being held, even for a moment. Thought I suppose when wI had to clean out the shunts in her head every day and the disinfect the wounds, that she equated being held as torture.

Well, come to think Tugger was always a bit strange. You could pet her head and shoulders, but not the base of her back or tail. Strange we had her from a baby, as we owned her mother, a slut of a cat, and she was never hurt by us. Oh, well.

"Come on up Kitty."

Walking down the Central Promenade of DS9 was a real treat, after first being confined to the brig of the Charon and later here Romulan Lieutenant Shiarrael i'Ramnau Pardek, took her time. The trip to Quarks did not sound intriguing enough to warrant a fast walk. A trip to a holodeck is a trip to a holodeck. Why would this one be any different from the others?

All too soon the trip was over. She was standing out side of the bar, the sounds of various games of chances and the aroma of several types of drinks and foods assaulted her nose as she walked in. As she was walking to the bar she noted that security was still following her. Ignoring them she took a sit at the bar and ordered a Romulan ale and gave the bar keeper the code word she was given, and waited for the owner of the bar to arrive. Sipping her drink and munching on a handful of munches she watched the security guards vain efforts to blend into the crowd.

The Ferengi appeared that matched the description she was given of the owner. When he stopped to refill she will ask in a low voice “I heard you have a holodeck with some unique programs. I would like to enter the one labeled the RED DRAGON INN. “

The owner Quark grimaced. “Yes I have that one but it is not working correctly right now, I have a repair ticket in for it, IF engineering can find the time to get here I can not really run it”

“Well you are in luck my dear friend” She purred back at him He was acting just like she was told he would. “I just happen to be a very good engineer myself, I have taken care of everything from a broken doorway all the way up to anti-matter containment fields. I could fix a faulty holodeck in my sleep. What seems to be the issue?”

“Well every time it is ran a number of things happen, it would take more time then I have to describe them all, and time is money. Let me show you if you do not mind and it would be a lot faster.” With that he will politely lead the way to the upper floor “Do you have any tools with you?”

“Yes I do” and with that she will pull out a scanner from her belt pouch. Security was being detained by a couple of dabble girls. Her estimation of this Ferengi went up a few notches, (Oh he is clever) Once out of sight of the guards she will say “Clever I did not see you give any signs to anyone”

“I did not need too; any idiot could see you were being followed. Well here it is” He stopped by a door at the end of the hallway. “I did not know Romulans were into this sort of thing.” He asks/questions slyly as he enters the programs code.
“Stay as long as you like, I will keep the guards entertained” with that he leaves.

Shiarrael enters the room and finds herself dressed in an outfit that was close to what she was wearing, only instead of cloth, she had on what looked to be a padding of several layers of cloth under a light chain mail shirt. Soft leather paints with tall boots. Her stun baton was still at her belt along with her pouch, putting her scanner away. She will open a set of wooden doors, sounds of music reaches her ears.

Walking into the room a female in light chain mail enters the room. She stands about 5’5” and has an olive toned skin, heaver built then an elf, she has pointed ears, Very distinctive slanted eyebrows, and her short black hair falls to just above shoulder length. The only weapon you can see is a short stout baton at her waist. Her Amber colored eyes sweeps the room as she looks at who is present. Her graceful moves will take her to a table that is not occupied nearest the stage. When the serving winch arrives to see if she wants anything, Shiarrael will order an Ale and some of the common pot stew. She will sit and soak up the camaraderie of the place and enjoy the food and music.

"Hey Mikey! Where's my carmal popcorn? "Bartender!" a new bottle of Mountain Dew.

A serving wench come quickly with a large green glass bottle in a bucket of ice. "Ah, just as I like it cold, but no ice inside eto polute its tangy flavor." She scoops up some Ice to chill her gold mug.

She let it sit in the ice and looks about. She nods to the newcomer and a strange look comes across DM's face. Deja vu. something is telling her she knows this young woman, but not in this garb. Yet the pattern of metal links keys her memory to patterned gray material of a stark military cut.

Shiarrael will listen to the lady ordering a strange drink, and watches as a small carnivorous creature slinks in carrying a small rodent that was still wiggling. It carries it to the back of the room where the servants were carrying the food from and disappeared from sight. A few minutes later a scream is heard and a lady with suds on her arms comes running out. Followed by the puzzled creature still holding the small gray rodent.

watching the small furry creature exit the room with its pray, she will get up and walk to the bar.

"I'll have an ale please" is said in a pleasent and polite tone of voice to the bartender behind the counter. waiting for her drink to be served, Shiarrael turns to watch the rest of the room.