Thread: ATM II RPG
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Old 05-29-2006, 04:12 AM   #47
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"Skittles!" Maika yelled after the witch-wannabe ambassador of Mordor. But apparently the explosion had weakened her hearing, or perhaps she pretended not to hear, or maybe she was running away from Anakron or Dracomir. Whichever the case, Skittles's childish mischievousness was delaying them. Maika wanted to leave right away and go visit Roggie to get this whole thing over with -- or to finally prove if the face cream was effective?

Maika shot a stern look at the still wide-eyed Dracomir. The boy was annoying her immensely; this was his fault. And wasn't he supposed to be a civilized Gondorian? Not that the Mordorians were uncivilized, but, well, she had always imagined that all Gondorians carried themselves more decently. Or something. She resisted the growing compulsion to walk over to the charred remains of the poor Orc and see if there could be some of those nitro-pops left so she could pop them forcibly into Dracomir's mouth.

Suddenly aware of her increasing anger, Maika forced herself to calm down, and think about what could be done. There was no way she was running after Skittles, not in stilettos. Lola and Anakron were engaged in something...something her nineteen-year-old mind was not meant to comprehend. Maika turned openly towards Dracomir, who looked at her quizzically in reply.

"Let's see what else you can do," she declared, her tone of voice dangerously provocative. "Create a diplomatic solution to this mess you've made."

Last edited by Lhunardawen; 07-03-2006 at 03:54 AM.
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