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Old 04-29-2003, 07:33 AM   #3
Mithadan
Spirit of Mist
 
Join Date: Jul 2000
Location: Tol Eressea
Posts: 3,392
Mithadan is a guest at the Prancing Pony.Mithadan is a guest at the Prancing Pony.
Sting

Piosenniel's Post

'I don't suppose we're allowed to bite anyone, are
we?'

Carchmoroth raised his head languidly from his crossed
paws and regarded his son for a moment. His yellow
eyes flicked to where Pio stood shoving her leotard in
her bag. 'If it were up to me, I'd say yes, but
you'ld better ask her.'

'No violence in the Hall, sweets.' came the reply.
'The admins won't like it.' She turned and grinned at
the despondent Warg. 'However, once they've left the
building, they're fair game.'

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The Shire taxi service picked her up precisely at 3.
She took her laptop with her on the long ride. There
were 3 new RPG's to be put on the board and the mad
dutchman's was still in revision.

+++ Email to Mithadan: I wasn't kidding about that
cruise. I think it should be a perq for the mods. ~~
Pio
+++

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'We're here, Miss.' Halfred Whitfoot opened the door
and fished her equipment bag from the trunk. 'Pick me
up at 9, then,' she said counting out 5 silver pennies
into his outstretched hand.

'Come, gentlemen,' she said over her shoulder to the
two great Wolves, who loped along silently behind her.
'We've got five hours today to whip those dancers into
shape.'

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[b]. . . 5 . snap! . 6 . snap! . a - 5 -
6 - 7 - 8 . . .[/i]

Pio put the Halfling chorus line through their paces.
They weren't perfect, but that could be solved by an
open bar as the guests entered. That and lowering the
lights.

The two Wolves sat in the shadows of the stage
curtain, ticking off the toothsome qualities of each
of the dancers. The smell of sweat and cheap
perfume mingled pleasurably in their nostrils.

'Should be nice and tired after the performance, don't
you think?' Dúgoroth looked approvingly at Pio as she
pushed the dancers through their routine again.

'Yesss,' said Carchmoroth, grinning a toothsome smile.
His sharp, yellowed fangs glinted in the harsh stage
light. 'Perhaps we should wait by the stage door after
their last number.' He curled his lips back in a wider
grin as on of the Hobbits tripped over her partner.
'That one's mine!' he growled low, watching her wince
as her ample ankle bent under her weight.

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'Take 5!'

The dancers slumped to the floor in unison, muttering
under their breath. Pio shrugged off the comments, she
was used to them from her time in the Shire. Wiping
her brow with a towel, she walked over to where the
wolves sat, and plopped down beside them.

'Did you notice the carpet he's ordered, Pio?'
Carchmoroth nudged her arm with his muzzle, pointing
to the rolls of carpet ready to lay out on the runway.

'Mmmm . . . blood red, eh?! Right up your alley.' She
scratched the grizzled brow of the great beast beside
her, and took a long pull at her water bottle.
'Outside the building, though. Agreed?'

'Agreed,' came the reluctant reply, as she rose and
whistled sharply for the dancers to line up again.
'One more hour, ladies and gentlemen! And I'll have
you hoofing like Fosse . . .'

By the One! The budget for this party can't be that
small. Where did Mithadan find these rejects . . .
?!
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