[piosenniel]

He blinked. Then his eyes crossed and...

‘Oh muddy bells!’ Pio grabbed the downed admin by the ankles and hauled him behind the curtain. She waved the Hobbit chorus line out front and set the Wargs on guard at each end of the stage.

That curly headed Hobbit – take him out if he comes near.

The three Wargs eyed her, their lips curled back in wolvish grins, thoughts of tasty Hobbit in their collective mind.

‘I knew we should have presented the apple off stage.’ Pio bent down and put two fingers to the pulse in Mithadan’s neck. It was weak and thready, but palpable. She bent her cheek above his face and felt his shallow breath. Her nose wrinkled, and she drew back.

Note to self: Should he survive - send the wight some toothpaste and mouthwash . . .

Aman, her Presenter’s notes dangling from her hand, stood gaping at the scene. Pio pointed toward the podium. ‘Get out there and dazzle them with your wit! We’ll take care of Mith. We’re used to this. He’s forever fainting away in all our adventures.’

Child nodded her head at Aman, and grabbed the limp admin’s ankle as Pio grabbed the other. Bethberry ran down the back hall clearing the way for them as they dragged him to one of the empty dressing rooms and flopped him on a couch. Throwing a mauve dressing gown edged with silvered ostrich feathers over the now snoring body, they left him to his twilight sleep and backed quickly out of the room, padlocking it securely.

Pio grinned widely. ‘No more PM’s or emails for a while, ladies!’ The other two looked somewhat guilt-struck at the memory of their fallen leader. ‘Come on! We’ve got the rest of the award show to get through, then we’re out of here. Aman, Aylwen, and Squatter can run the RPG forums for a while. We can PM them if need be.’

She pulled three passports and envelopes bearing the seal of the Palantiri Ship line – seven silver stars on a dark blue background. ‘I’ve booked us on a two month cruise . . .’

[ May 06, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]