Yay. Another duty of this stupid post: I get to go get a medal for Lord Badger since he’s so busy he can’t come get it himself. Up side of this is that I get to see Carl again, so it’s not all bad, but still… This is so not what I had in mind when I offered to help. Note to self: Keep big mouth shut next time.
I dressed conservatively for the occasion, black business suit & skirt, white blouse, and flats. Flats are very, very important. Wouldn’t want to fall on my face when going to receive the damned medal. That’d be terribly embarrassing, and I think Badger would take it as a personal offense.
Shouldn’t be so grumpy. Note to self: Find some time away from people. Meditate, maybe. Calm is good. Don’t let these little things bother you.
So, when I arrived at Inverness, I found a nice window seat and proceeded to pretty much ignore everyone. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to socialize. I mean, Nimue was there, and Sean and I liked them both just fine. I didn’t have anything to add to any conversations though. Or, well, honestly, I was being grumpy. Totally unlike me. There was a few other people there that I didn’t know, and if I wasn’t in a mood to talk to people I did know, then I surely wouldn’t be comfortable talking to strangers.
So, I sat at a window and waited. Inverness was a pretty place from what I can see. Nice view from here, anyway.
After a while of waiting—I was the first one there so I think Carl waited until everyone else arrived before showing up himself—and listening to other people talk around me, Carl came in, interrupting a talk between Nimue and Sean. I glanced up and waved to him, but he was busy talking to Nimue at the moment. So, I dropped my hand and watched him for a while. He looked sharp…dark suit, with some sort of sash over his shoulder. Badge of office or something probably. I glanced around at the people in the room and frowned to myself. Sean was in a tux, Moira and Nimue had these fairly nice and elaborate dresses on…I think I was underdressed. Oh, well. I turned back to the window.
A liveried servant popped in, “Your Highnesses, from Haven and Monarch Creator Kelric Pole, your presences requested in the Throne Room by His Majesty Laird Carl the First.” I looked up. Laird, interesting title. Scottish, I thought, though I wasn’t overly familiar with Scottish titles and the like. I got up to dutifully do my duty, and followed the servant out along with the rest of everyone.
We were shown across the atrium, past the Trump booths (where we all arrived at), along the scarlet carpet. The grand hall had high massive beams holding a vaulted ceiling that tapered into a point. From the lower crossbeams hung banners with various old looking coats of arms, and apparently devices of various kingdom awards upon them. There were two rows, one near each wall, all along the stretch of the hall. It opened to the left and to the right; across were two huge fireplaces, spaced at intervals to give heat evenly if they were lit. Logs the size of a man were arranged, but not lit. In between were pointed arches of stone, blocked with huge massive shutters, bolted and latched with blackened hand-forged metal. They were ornately carved, showing centuries of wear, and they had traces of gilding.
In the center of the room, a scarlet runner went from the low dais at one end to the other which was higher and had three steps instead of just one. Just past that, a massive long trestle table sat on several pairs of huge ball and claw legs, dark and mirror polished, and a scarlet felt pad over most of the top. On the table were an assortment of ribbons, scrolls, boxed pins, and ribboned medals.
To the right were some nice elaborately carved high backed and armed chairs, with tufted upholstery. To the left, there were more chairs, but those were more utilitarian with no arms and sparsely upholstered…and there were a lot more of them in ranks and rows. On the right dais, a very old-fashioned high backed topped over High Seat was placed. It was made out of some dark wood, gilded and gemset. By it stood two more of the guards in old style formal gilded and etched armor with halberds.
As we entered, a pair of guards in the same sort of armor stood to each side of the door. Beyond them, on each side, were liveried staff in powdered wigs. The one to the left had a silvery trumpet; the one to the right had a scroll.
When we entered, the servant to the left put his trumpet to his lips and blew three notes. The one to the right spoke up, announcing each of us in order, "Her Highness, Princess Nimue, from Haven. Her Highness, Princess Moira, from Haven. His Highness, Prince Sean, Ard Righ, Ireland, Earth Prime, from Haven. Her Highness, Princess Lucy, from Haven. His Highness, Prince Otto, from Haven. Foxy, escort of His Highness, Prince Sean."
That trumpet was enough to give me a headache, but I refused to give into it. Must be nice, this was a formal type place and event. Nice. Smile. See? Smiling’s good. Easy too.
We were shown to the seats on the right. A footstool of sorts was brought out for Foxy, Sean’s familiar (I think), next to Sean’s seat.
There were a few more people announced after us, but I didn’t catch their names. Then, a whole fanfare of trumpets blasted out, though it was lower pitched that the ‘announcing’ trumpet. One of the servants with a staff standing by the corner of the long table struck his staff thrice upon floor. In a loud and carrying voice, he announced, “His Majesty Carl the First, Laird of Inverness.” Everyone rose. It took me a second, but I got to my feet with everyone else.
From over at the far left, Carl entered flanked by two more guardsmen. They were followed by four servants bearing pillows. On them were a crown, scepter, orb, and sword. Then, two more guards. As they passed, people bowed or curtseyed right before Carl got to them, and stayed that way. I took the hint and did the same, feeling remarkably wise for avoiding wearing high heels today.
Concentrating so hard on not toppling over (have you ever tried to maintain a curtsey for a few minutes or however long? It’s not as easy as one thinks it is), I almost missed everyone else sitting down around me. I sat down, sighing. Much better. I looked to Carl up on the right dais sitting in the heavy chair there. The guards had sort of arranged themselves around the throne. And Carl…he fit there. I don’t know how else to put it. He belonged, maybe. Like, well, it was made for him. Which it was. God-Creator, remember.
One of the servants stepped forward, went to one knee, and offered a loose page to Carl. Carl took it and read, “It is a living thing, a kingdom. Ever growing and changing. At this time, We pause to acknowledge this change; of the seasons and of events both great and small. Upon this day it pleases Us greatly, to acknowledge the achievements of those within the realm. Dedication, bravery, and merit. Of loyalty, bravery, of services rendered in the highest and most noble ancient traditions. For this we call forth those of this realm and others beyond the borders, to honor them this day. We are thus pleased, and declare it shall be so."
He handed the page back to the servant who was kneeling, who bowed and stepped aside. The staff guy struck his staff again thrice.
It was at this point that I stopped paying attention to Court. It was impressive and all, but Carl was more so. This was a side I hadn’t been able to see before, at the USO thing. Before he’d seemed so nervous and jokesy, sweet and shy. Here, he was in charge. Commanding. Majestic even. Royal. It was interesting to see him in this light.
He started whatever business they were doing here. Uh, handing out awards and knighthoods and whatnot. I didn’t pay much attention to it, really. Very distracted.
It wasn’t until someone was standing right next to me that I realized it was my turn to go up front. I stood. Smile. Ok, not quite that much smile. Better.
I approached the throne and stopped. Carl smiled at me, and my stomach—already having butterflies in it—did a flip-flop. Handsome, handsome man. His eyes glanced down to the cushion in front of him. I got the hint, and almost grinned at him. Not that much smile, remember. Professional.
I knelt, and tipped my head up to him again, waiting. The fellow with the staff asked, “Ye be the steward appointed to stead for Lord Robert George Badger of Haven?”
“Yes, I am,” I replied, not taking my eyes off of Carl.
Carl nodded slightly, and reached for the sword hilt offered to him. The sword was a big heavy number, looking pretty old. He held it with both hands, edge pointing up and down. He lined it up like he was going to take off my left ear with it, his smile quirking. I smirked back at him, shooting him a ‘ha-ha-very-funny’ look. He moved it slightly so that the flat of the blade was parallel to the floor.
“I dub thee knight in the fashion of Seltris, and name thee to the order of Helfin, of Steward Knight,” he said, gently touching the sword to my left shoulder, then my right. He put the sword back in the scabbard, and reached for the handed-over spurs. Those he offered to me. I took them, and waited, my heart racing. God, was this just about over? Smile, just smile.
He then took a medal on a ribbon. It was a maroon ribbon with a bronze colored fancy cross pendant with dark red stones, garnets maybe. He lifted it, and put it over my head, which I bowed for him. Good thing he didn’t actually touch me while he put the medal on me, otherwise I might have fainted from serious bloodrush to my head…I would have blushed very red, in other words. “Rise Sir Knight, Order of Helfin,” he said.
“Thank you, my lord,” I replied, rising slowly. The announcer fellow frowned at me, and I swallowed, realizing that I should have been paying closer attention. I curtseyed to Carl, and only wavered a little bit. Carl nodded to me though, his smile quirking into a grin briefly again. Then, he dropped a wink at me. Smile, just smile. No blushing. Blushing bad.
I returned to my seat before I could make a fool out of myself, which would have been quite easy to do. After sitting again, I heaved a small sigh of relief that that was over. I also felt rather proud that I didn’t do anything wrong, really. Ok, so it wasn’t that hard. Might be able to handle some of this diplomatic stuff.
Court continued, and I continued to watch the Laird, dropping the spurs into one of my pockets.
After a while longer, Carl finally yawned and stretched where he was sitting. He looked over to us, smiled, and made a c’mon gesture. Food time. Mmm. Good. Now that my stomach was settled, I was starving.
As we got up, I wandered over to Nimue’s side. She really did have a nice dress on. Made me feel kind of shabby, but no one told me this was going to be super formal. Sigh. She seemed kind of out of it, even more than I was. “Are you alright?” I asked her, frowning. “Seem kind of quiet.”
She gave me one of her political smiles. She definitely wasn’t alright. “I am fine,” she professed. “I simply have a few things I need to think about.” There was a pause there before she added, “To be honest, I prefer to be quiet; but as needs must we rise to circumstance. How have you been?”
I shrugged. I was fine, now that this was over with. Almost.
I got a scotch, feeling the need to mellow out a bit more. We took our seats, sitting next to one another, with Moira on the other side of Nimue. Food was arriving, but before the luncheon actually started, a green black-haired woman staggered into the room. Her beady eyes scanned the room and everyone in it. She smelled awful…like a corpse bathed in cheap aftershave. She was carrying a cheap five and dime parasol, and dress like a homeless punk, complete with Doc Martens. Her lips and nails were black.
This…woman (?) twirled the parasol in a vacuous effort to be coy. Then, she slammed it down and stomped on it, commanding the attention of those who hadn’t noticed her yet. “This farce is to stop now, F---!” she screamed, her voice exploding into screeching howls. “I am here to protest against King Carlton the Oathbreaker. He sword to give the Crown of Harmony Kingdom to me. It is in this long lost will of King Morden and Queen Watchamacall the quiet chick.”
Carl, who hadn’t taken a seat yet, “I’m sorry, but I have no idea who you are. And I’m sure I’d remember the meeting after a fifth of something scotch.”
“I, you stupid f---tard who probably never kissed a girl, am Dorcas McCoy,” she said, her lips curling in contempt. Was that polish on her lips? Gah..
“Whoop-te-do,” was his reply.
“Then watch it,” she snarled, “or I will curse you with the ‘Trayleur de Jeter’ curse.”
“What’s that one?” he asked coolly. “It doesn’t ring a bell.”
"It is where you sit at home all day in pink spandex, watch Oprah all day, munch generic Doritos and drink Baby Duck wine," she said ,"Like I do except I prefer wearing black spandex cause I'm a Goth."
"Oh, here I thought it'd have something to do with my parts," Carl said flippantly.
"You have parts?" shot Dorkas back.
She stood in front of Carl, waving the document wildly. "Even now, that bitch Aurora and her bitch sisters here are conspiring to take it away from me and my sweeties. I demand you act now to stop my land from being added on to the Reichs of the Great Powers Council. What's next? Art the Fascist bringing in Stormtroopers?
"My name is Dorkas and I am here to claim my rights over Harmony from that stupid Aurora and her bitch sisters from Haven."
Moira seemed to be getting quite upset at this incident. She was gripping the arms of her chair, white-knuckling it. I tried to shake my head at her, get her attention, tell her telepathically to calm down…anything… She ignored me. I sighed, and turned my attention back to Carl and Dorkas.
"You just bought a one way ticket to Jason's S&M court, he does it much better than I can," Carl told her calmly. "There isn't a Harmony anymore. It and Inverness parted company and it went to Nether Lands."
"I am not afraid of the fascist Jason Lookist Pig. Besides he is not seeing people until after Samhein as that is when he hauls his redheaded ass under his bed and whines for his Mommy,” she retorted.
She stared at Carl, “I should slap you, stupid Haven pensioned F---tard. I am the Great Dorcas, Princess of all she sees. Ruler of Creation, Sister and Priestess of the Black Mass of Halloween for the Great Goddesses of the Lands beyond Creation."
"Aka one of the abyss whiners and wanna be'," Carl added calmly.
That certainly got my attention. This was an Abyss hag? Or just someone who worked for them? The second seemed more likely. This woman seemed insane rather than dangerous.
"Oh for the love of Pete, Fred, and Sam just shoot her or if Jason not taking hag wanna-be try Rainier," Otto snarled.
"Shut your mouth, you f---ing Haven faggot," Dorkas screeched at him. "You probably are the one who hired a Mrrr to try to eat my pet rat Simian."
"For once, I have to say that I agree with Otto," Sean said. "Laird Carlton, to want to take care of this, or would you like some help taking out the trash?"
"Thanks for the offer, but she's a fingersnap from being flushed in the Allen Unkerr Superfund Cleanup Memorial Site,” Carl told Sean. "I just wanted to hear what the latest delusions floating around are..."
"I am not Pete, Fred, or Sam, and I'm not your type either..." the big blue dog said icily. I glanced over at the dog, and blinked a few times. Uh, right. Ooooohhhh… That was the dog…George?…that Carl was talking about at the USO thing.
"You f---ing f---tard," she howled, "I thought your kind were hiding in a closet with a blanket around them in fear of the Great Goddesses and their priestesses this Hallowe'en."
She peered at Sean, "I know about you.” She pointed at him ,"You're Haven's latest redheaded f---ed up psycho. You’re Matilda in jeans."
"Were you the wise ass who cursed my car when I drove here? Was it you?" Dorkas snarled at Carl, "Or was it spies for Hi6?"
"My car was COVERED in roaches. I was totally freaking out, I hope to the Great Goddess of the Ever Dark that none got in my car. I couldn't stop for gas in Stinkytown here." Dorcas said taking a dead roach out of her pocket and flinging it at Carl, "Because the roaches were still on my car. I had to drive REALLY fast down the highway to get them to fly off. I must have looked nuts ZOOMing up 120 mph screaming, my gaslight on and roaches flying off my car. I hope my Harmony has less giant roaches than this dump." She gave Carl and accusatory glare.
She wailed in anger, "I am so f---en sick of this f---en drama!" She kicked a nearby chair and it crumpled under her dock martens. Ok. Maybe she was a little dangerous. "Do you know I cry myself to sleep every night thinking of my lost sweetie?"
"If there were any more of those on your car it's now impounded dear," Carl stomped the tossed roach. "And you're going to have to answer for bringing them in."
"I thought that was just another Haven reporter," she said back ignoring him, "Now how are you are going to deal with these Haven f---tards?"
At this point, Nimue stood up and moved over to Carl’s side. I felt a stab of something…don’t know what exactly. At any rate, she was cool as a cucumber as she regarded our interloper. “And by what right have you claimed the throne of Harmony? I presume you have some shred of evidence, legal precedent or document giving you ownership of it?”
"Why do I have to answer some Haven bitch lawyer?" Dorkas said ,"Morden and I were deeply in love. I was his second wife once Caitland that stuck up Haven bitch, took off on my sweetie."
"His will," Dorkas exclaimed, waving the document in the air again, "is what validates my ownership of Harmony. And that f---tard Aurora and her crooked Haven allies are trying to take it away from me. I know they always hated my sweetie. Aurora hired Don Paolo to cut off my sweetie's ears and then she slept with Blake to get him to cut off my sweetie's hands."
"I am more than that you craven Mecklenberg hireling," Dorkas told Carl, turning on him with a fanatic ferocity. "Were I able to, I would sacrifice you myself."
Carl snorted then smirked.
"George? Oh, George? You wanna sic'em?" Carl said to the air.
The dog replied, "Nope, I don't think she has her shots. Besides I might be forced to bite Allen Unkerr to get the taste outta my mouth." The dog, George, considered everyone with his big tongue lolling out. "Does this mean I get a bowl of punch?"
"Oh Jeeze," Dorcas said, "Just when the class of clowns was filled up with enough f---tards. Now they send in the genetic freakfactories."
She looked at Otto, "What's that one of your Mecklenberg half brothers from a secret Nazi experiment?"
Dorkas spat at Carlton's feet with a look of disdain. "I have held in my anger, hurt, rage and pity for far too long with this situation. I've never been so disgusted with the human race as I have been. You sic your wild dog at me because a ball less wonder like myself cannot act. You can act, you can stop being a puppet to these Haven bitches and stop aiding them."
"Lemme explain. I'm a creator on my home turf. You're here as long as I decide to put up with you. When I get tired of being mildly amused, it's gonna suck to be you. Unless you make scarce. You understand that?" Carl told her, still calm and cool.
"It is going to suck to be you if you keep aiding enemies of the People's Abyssimal Republic of Gothy Inverness,” she retorted.
"PARGI? Oh god you can't even get a good acronym,” one of the men exclaimed.
"Don't you know anything?" Dorkas said condescendingly, "It means Kumbaya in Valdrusian."
That tickled something in my head. I translated the word and frowned incredulously, “It means ‘Come by here’?” That didn’t make any sense at all.
While this exchange was going on, Carl had gotten a faraway look on his face. Finally, he stirred again, saying, "Oh yes...I found it. Hmm..." He looked back at Dorkas. "It's getting a nice counter rotation now, and separating nicely from the rest of Inverness." He looked smug. "I'm trying to decide where to fling it, the heart of the Abyss or into the Nether Lands. The Nether Lands would be much harder to get into or out of, and since it's not GP sized, it should melt pretty fast."
"My sisters in the Abyss will help me attain social justice," she hissed venomously, "Then I will come back and win back the people in Harmony and we will throw out this bastard Aurora and her Haven Bitch Brigade."
She looked contemptuously at all of us, "I hope you quake with fear at my might, you stupid Havenized geese."
She looked at Moira and called out, "BOOO!" I think it was an attempt to scare her, but it was pretty lame.
"Oh, for the love of God," I finally interjected, rolling my eyes. "This could get you killed you know--not only are you insulting the Laird, and his staff, and his nobles and all that rot, but you are also insulting Haven ambassadors," I said, trying to feel sympathetic to this creature, Abyss hag wanna-be or not. She was obviously deranged, insane, and her actions might not even be her own. Just a pawn in a bigger game. "Why, I think that if Moira was alone with you in a dark alley right now, death on one part or another would be practically assured."
"I am not afraid of you nor you Haven goons. When Caitland got dumped by Morden my sweetie, her old bitch mother, Jasra and her brothers Jason, Luke, Kelric, and even that stupid f---tard Kelson all sent assassins after me. They failed. I am not afraid of the bastard daughter of Peggy the Pirate. I am quite a big girl," Dorkas replied arrogantly, "My mouse Simian, could whip her bony Haven ass."
"This is getting old, make the point that you need your meds and you have delusions and a poorly forged scrap of paper...I bet you did it in crayon...and get out of here before I do send you places you don't want to be," Carl offered.
"Yeah bite me," was the response, followed by a vituperation of horrific abuse.
At that point, George ambled up to her and bit her in the rump. He let go almost immediately, falling backwards on his own rump, making some horrid gagging noises. “Gross…week old garbage cans in the summer sun have a better flavor…gag…”
One of the liveried staff showed up with a large crystal punchbowl full of red punch. Another had a large mat. They were arranged a little ways away, out of the way of anything.
Dorkas screeched, "You f---ing f---tard!" She cocked her right leg back, and went to kick the dog in the rump. She missed as George disappeared and reappeared five feet away. It blew a raspberry at her. She glared at him, “I am calling the pound on you buster!”
"Braaaaphhhhhpppppp," the dog replied.
"I am going to sue you!" she told Carl. "That goddamned mutt of yours should be on a leash and a muzzle."
"Dog abuse!" she yelled while her hand rubbed her bitten buttocks. "I hope that thing has its shots for rabies."
"I'll say, I want to know if you have had any of yours..." George commented. "Dog abuse is right...pthwepppp"
Dorkas grew even more furious. Her face was red and her hands clenched and unclenched, "I cry myself every night over what you and your Haven clique have done to my sweetie and now you sick your goddamned mutt on me. I am sick of you Haven types playing victim while everyone supports you and your dirty work."
“I’m not a mutt; I’m unique,” the big blue dog replied. It made some sort of gagging sound again, “You on the other hand…there are things in litter boxes that taste better than you do.”
Dorkas railed back, “You should know what cat shit tastes like. You dogs eat shit all the time.”
“I bit you didn’t I…” the dog mused.
I frowned, and tried to change the subject a little. “Why don’t you bring up your grievances in the proper setting and clothes, and, uh, a bath wouldn’t hurt either…” It’d certainly help the rest of us, “People would be, um, more likely to believe your accusations.”
"You preppy Haven scumbags only think about clothes and fashions. You are all a bunch of Matildas," Dorkas shrieked. “It doesn't matter about your f---ing drama as long as you are dressed in your richbitch designer clothes and wear the right colognes." She ranted on, "I am so sick of your GPC and your persecution of my sweetie. So what if he cut up his faggot brother in half because he was a fascist. He didn't deserve to have Blake the snake cut his hands off."
"Uh, lady, I'm not from Haven," I replied, trying to correct her. "And I don't think you're helping your cause here.." I glanced over the table. Moira still looked ready to kill, and Otto and Sean weren’t far behind.
"You sure dress and talk like a Haven scumbag," was Dorkas' immediate response. "If it talks like a duck and wears designer clothes like a duck then it's a Haven bitch of a duck."
"So then if it sounds like trailer trash it is huh? You big old Jerry Springer star trailer trash hag from the wrong side of the garbage dump," Otto snarked.
"Go back to your cabin in Haven Palace, Cabin boy," Dorkas sneered.
"And miss your wit? What ever will I do," Otto replied sarcastically
"Get in the back end like all you Haven fags do," Dorkas said contemptuously, "If any of you could ever get it up.
"My Morden was a real man and knew how to make a woman happy," she wistfully said ,"But that Haven bitch Caitland hexed him to fall asleep right after it." She complained ,"I hope she's burning in hell cause I want to slap these bitches for trying to steal my man.
"Did you know Dara his Mom was such a bitch that she forbade him to marry me. Called me trailer trash! And a bitch and whore," Dorkas said with an evil smile and mock hurt, "I got even with her. My Morden hates her so much that in Haven City he attacked her and almost killed her with his deathsword."
"Grand Mother is most wise," Otto replied sagely.
"That's really quite enough of this," Sean said, frowning. He looked off into space, concentrating for a moment, then a slight grin tugged at the corners of his mouth.
A few seconds later, there was a loud tearing sound as Foxy sunk his teeth into the hem of the crazy woman’s dress. He started pulling, tearing off a piece of the fabric.
She tried to kick Foxy as she tried to kick George. She cried out, “My demon will eat you! You and your f---tard fox too. You are all in the pay of Aurora and the Haven Secret Police."
"Ptah!" Foxy yapped, spitting out the chunk of fabric. "When's the last time you had this laundered?"
"The punch'll kill the taste," George told Foxy. "Sorta anyway."
Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Moira making some gestures at Dorkas discreetly. I frowned; it was a spell, but I didn’t catch enough of it to see what it was exactly. That was soon solved as Dorkas screeched, “Cockroaches!” She dropped to the floor, doing the stop, drop, and roll as if she were on fire. I frowned at Moira. The woman was crazy, that was obvious to see, but that was just…irresponsible. Very irresponsible. A misuse of her gifts for a petty purpose. I shook my head, getting disgusted with how these people were treating Dorkas. Of course, I wasn’t terribly pleased at Dorkas railing and screaming at everyone, but…we should have been more mature in handling this.
Dorkas tore off her top, cockroaches spilling out as she did. People almost universally looked away at the sight. I didn’t—I’d seen much worse before, though it was up in the top twenty. Maybe the top ten.
"I hate you all!" she screamed. "I hate all this f---en drama!"
"I don't think there are enough hallucinogens in any Creation for anything to have happened between you and Mordred. What were you sniffing?" Carl replied lightly. "C'mon George, what'd it take to give her a good chomp?"
The dog rolled his eyes and let the tongue loll. "Not even Bactine. Like I said I'd never get that taste to go away."
Moira was evidently fed up. Without rising from her seat, she stage whispered to Dorcas, "Come over here and say that, girly." The expression on her face was one of naked hatred, making Moira far uglier in that moment that Dorkas could ever be. My stomach roiled; I knew I should have said no to this and stayed home.
"No, you come here," said Dorkas. "I am not afraid of some preppy Haven bitch sister of Aurora."
I couldn’t stand it any longer. I stood up, looking to Sean then Moira then Dorkas. I shook my head, "I'm sorry Carl, but I think I'm going to leave." I glared at Moira then turned my eyes back to Carl again, "I'm sorry again. Lunch looked good."
Carl nodded. "That is your right, but buffet has been set up in the side room...as I certainly don't feel like continuing here either. Quarters are available for your use upstairs, if you did wish to stay and enjoy the offer of a few days of sightseeing..."
I gave Carl a slight smile, the best I could manage, "I might do that, stay around and sightsee. Thanks." I glanced around again, disgusted at this display, and left. Left the room, and left Inverness.
"Amber" is copyright © Roger Zelazny; this text is copyright © all the players and GM of Equinox. "Amber" the diceless RPG is copyright © Phage Press. No copyright infringement is intended.
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