From: [EMAIL PROTECTED]:

     There was a crash.  Grohn's hand bled.  There were pieces of mirror on 
the floor.

     With a deep sigh, Grohn began to pace around the room.  Without 
thinking,he began to pace the dimensions of his old cell--six feet by eight 
feet.

     "Enough of this self-pity," he growled to himself as he ran his bloody 
hand through his hair, unconcerned with its condition, "I have to think, 
have to think..."

     He was silent for a few moments, and his pacing grew increasingly 
rapid, his fists clenched as his left hand dripped a trail of blood along 
the outer of the room.

     "I could probably stay here one more day if I exited through the 
window," he paused to look out the window.  The tree outside was beginning 
to turn colors.  Golden, crimson, and green faces looked back at him and 
laughed.

     He paused, watching a young adventurer dismount and walk toward the 
inn, pouch bulging.

     A smile came to Grohn's lips.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

     A voice came from behind Grohn, whispery, soft, and light, neither 
female nor male. "What would your thoughts accomplish dear old Grohn? Is the 
life within a cell really what you seek? Until your last breath leaves you?" 
The figure within the shadows knew the answers to its questions, knew how 
Grohn felt. He was old, tired and knew nothing more of life than that of a 
cell. The six feet by eight feet of his normal confines.

     The figure watched, dark wings resting and settling behind it as Grohn 
paced about, crystal blue eyes that now seemed to glow faintly in the light 
looking over him. "I could give you a new beginning. A chance to reclaim 
that which was lost. Or I could merely give you release. It is your choice. 
Your decision." The figure folded its hands before itself. waiting for the 
answers that it knew would come.


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