Finding that apparently everybody at this feast were too scared of her to even say "Hello", Shelob decided that she might just as well get herself something to drink. Staggering through the growing crowd, she desperately tried not to step on anyone and though keeping several eyes on both of them, she made sure to steer clear of the elf with the meat cleaver and the strange human with the glaive. Wouldn't want to get too close to any of them. They might just "accidentally" use those, she thought while aiming for a huge wine keg. With the claw at the end of her front leg, she opened the keg and started to drown her sorrows.
Noticing a slight hunger spreading through her body, she wondered if anyone would ever miss the skinny poet standing next to her.
[ September 23, 2002: Message edited by: Maikadilwen ]
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-"Death borders upon our birth, and our cradle stands in the grave. Our birth is nothing but our death begun."
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