[littlemanpoet]

Lefun and Ritun lay on a table between the antechamber and the firepit. Eodwine and his House stood around the body. The Eorl had told the story of the Rilef's death and then asked if anyone else would like to say something. He waited. And waited. Days passed. Meanwhile Rowenna and Ghem had separate adventures. Thornden and Leof somehow were with the group yet available to chat about Thornden's nephew, how Eodwine did not know. But he waited, expecting Garstan to say something, Falco to say something, anybody to say something, but no-one did. They all stood around, waiting for Elempi to lose patience move the plot along.

"Ahem," Eodwine coughed, looking up to the rafters. "Writer mine, this is not ATM. This is not a spoof. These other writers have busy lives and it's not their fault. So just do the post like you know how and move the plot along."

Darn it, said the Writer from above the rafters, But I was having so much fun. Oh, okay.