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My name is Piosenniel, innkeeper for the while as you can see.
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Awyrgan thanked her for the wine. It was better than his last glass, all the same he was glad she had watered it down. This would be his last for the day before he grew soft and lost the edge that kept him going.
With a deft move the elf drew a well-made knife from her tunic, picked up a piece of apple, and offered it Umbria who appeared a bit startled and declined. Turning to Awygan she offered it to him in turn.
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And you, good sir, she said offering the piece to him, do you care to try a tasty treat from off my blade?
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Two can play at that game.
He quietly slid one of his own knives from his boot & then quickly took the apple from the Innkeeper's.
I am no elf but neither am I the slow old man I appear to be he thought, noting with some grim satisfaction he was still swift & keen in his movements. Whether the Innkeeper was surprised or amused was difficult to tell.
"So long as I am not required to eat the blade along with the treat." He then ate the slice off of the blade. Quickly as it had appeared the knife was again hidden. He paused, chewing, as if deep in thought. "It would be a waste of a fine knife."
He saw her instictively place her hand over her stomach and for a time it brought back unpleasent memories and a brief shadow passed over his face. He hoped she did not notice; his troubles were his concern alone and he would not burden others with them.
[ January 07, 2003: Message edited by: Carrūn ]