The Silver Thistle Inn

Jul 9 00:17 UTC 1996

This is based on a couple of items I encountered a while ago in another
conference (The Irish Rose Inn and the Snow Dragon Inn on the GAMES
confer of the UM system) which I thought were really cool.

It's basically role-playing without a GM; you create a character, of
any level of power from less-than-mortal-normal to godlike, and they
interact with the other characters created by other people.  You can
attempt to perform any action you think your character can or would
like to try to do; the results are determined by the characters it
might affect; for example, if you throw a punch, the other person
might say they ducked aside in time, or they might take it on the
chin.  The point is role-playing rather than "Winning", because you
can't really win.  The fun is in the interaction.

As to how your character gets to this place . . . well, such Inns as
the Silver Thistle lie at the intersections of many worlds.  Think of
the World's End Inn from The Sandman if you've never been on the
GAMES confer.

Characters of all types, fantasy, sci-fi, superhero, horror, and other
are all accepted.  Your only limit is your imagination and your
sense of fun.  FIghting is frowned upon, but probably no one's going
to stop you if you try.

Welcome to the Silver Thistle.

response 2 of 95:

Jul 9 00:24 UTC 1996

  Kyra the bartender cleans a glass behind the bar in the comfortable,
wood paneled Inn.  Outside, the snow howls in the empty wilderness which
surrounds the Silver Thistle.  Kyra is a pretty woman, about five foot
four, with dark, mid-shoulder length hair, and no face.  There is only
smooth skin where her face would normally be.

  She adjusts the dartboard and wonders when her first customers of the
day will come in.  She wonders if, as usual, they will have become lost
in some manner of storm in their own worlds, and, dazed and upset, they
mysteriously find there way here.  She hopes they don't panic upon seeing
her . . . unusual visage, as that last group did.  Perhaps they will
have come here deliberately, to get a drink in a place where all beings
are welomed, whatever they are.  Or perhaps they will come here for other
reasons of their own, be they dark or light.

  Whatever their motives, however they get here . . . Kyra has drinks
waiting for them.

response 4 of 95:

Jul 9 13:34 UTC 1996

  The newcomer feels a feather-light touch of another mind gently scanning
her own, and then hears a voice speak inside her head.  <<Welcome to
the Silver Thistle Inn, milady.  I am Kyra, the proprietor of this
establishment.  Would you like something to drink?  Or . . . perhaps
some bandages?  You seem hurt - what happened, if you don't mind my
asking?>>

response 6 of 95:

Jul 9 22:30 UTC 1996

  A brown-skinned, weathered man enters the room.  He has a slight hunch to
his back, and has a pegged leg and a walking stick.  He appears to be at the
prime of his life.  He's wearing a dark brown cloak, with the hood down.  He's
got jet black hair, and dark green eyes.
  He sees Gandra sitting by the fire, and raises and black, tufted eyebrow.
He makes his way towards the hearth near where Gandra is sitting, and takes
the table next to hers.

response 8 of 95:

Jul 10 13:57 UTC 1996

"I am Gandra Alek - my family is from Stuttgart, well - at least the members
I know about.  Most of us were orphaned in our early childhood . . ."

response 10 of 95:

Jul 11 12:32 UTC 1996

  <<Glad to meet you both.  I suggest you both relax while you have the
opportunity.  Things seldom remain this quiet around here for very
long.>>

response 12 of 95:

Jul 12 15:21 UTC 1996

 There is a menu written in chalk on the wall, but it has been erased and
written over so many times as to be nearly unreadable.  A note, written
in paper, has been taped on to it, which says, in a language which is not
your own but which you can still, for some reason, read perfectly clearly,
"Ask for what you want - we've probably got it.  Prices negotiable.  Don't
sell Kyra your soul, she doesn't give refunds.  -- The Mgt."

response 14 of 95:

Jul 13 12:38 UTC 1996

As if in response to a challenge, a tall, cloaked figure, who nobody saw enter
or even noticed was there, rises to his feet from a chair in a shadowed
corner.  His form is quite thin, his face drawn, his limbs long and bony. 
Other than this, and the large scar on his left cheek, he is quite
nondescript.  On his face is a look of pure hatred, and he half hisses, half
spits at the creature:  "Perhaps it would be better for me to do the
explaining, *beast*.  I have spent my life struggling to keep your vile
influence away from the pure souls of our fair world....but this is no time
for idle talk.  You look confused--perhaps I should assume a more familiar
form...and then, to work."  With that, you see his entire body begin to shift,
and reform, in the shape of a stout dwarven warrior.  The scar on his left
cheek is now a gaping, bloody gash, and his entire body is scratched and torn.
"I belive *this* is how we last parted--perhaps you would care to resume our
little debate in a more civil manner."  He confidently reaches into his
pocket, and then looks shocked and frightened.  "Chalk!", he whispers to the
denizens of the inn.  "Does anyone have some chalk?"

response 16 of 95:

Jul 13 14:36 UTC 1996

  "Well, well, well . . . how *unexpected* to meet you here," says the
dark, vaguely anthropomorphic creature.  "But there is no need to
continue a disagreement we had in another time, in another place, while
we are here on neutral ground.  And lacking chalk.  I am merely here to
chat with this people, and you would be wise to let me . . . I have no
particular wish to ravage their minds, but I will do so if you drive
me to it.  Is that understood?"  The creature snarls the last three
words in an indubitably threatening manner.

response 18 of 95:

Jul 14 13:04 UTC 1996

Gandra rises from the couch, being careful not to get too close to the hearth.
Sheathing her sword, if she has not done so already, she wipes the dirt from
her armour and heads in the general direction of the women's room.  As she
places the bloodied white cloth back into her purse, you notice that the blood
from her face was relatively fresh, as it now has soaked most of the visible
portion of her tunic, and the top of her breast plate.  Almost systematically,
if involuntary, she shakes her toosh as she strides towards the restroom. 
She tosses her hair playfully.

response 20 of 95:

Jul 16 13:57 UTC 1996

  The Dark Knight seems a bit put out that the majority of the Inn patrons
are ignoring it.  However, it pulls itself together, and says, "I
summoned you here because this plane is going to be destroyed.  You
can either save it, or be destroyed with it, both of which eventualities
would suit me just fine."

response 22 of 95:

Jul 16 20:10 UTC 1996

  "Yes, I'm sure you thought you did.  And I have no idea how you should
save it - that's your job, not mine."

response 24 of 95:

Jul 19 16:20 UTC 1996

Saugar mutters "I *really* need a drink"