While most of the guests errupted into a boisturous, if unorderly, version of the Macarena, ashadowy figuer in a dark, hooded robe hurried into the building. "Ah, good. I seem to have avoid the Red Carpet crowd." he comented as he checked his weapons; a sword, dirk, and some knives all made in the same, tarnished silver style.
After picking out a few choice deserts, he settled into a lonely, well as lonely as could be found at such a party, corner on a stool and leaned back against the wall for a snooze, waiting for the awards to start.
[ May 03, 2003: Message edited by: Salocin ]
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Christ is Risen!
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