Thread: ATM II RPG
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Old 08-29-2006, 03:30 AM   #197
Anguirel
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Join Date: Mar 2005
Location: The 1590s
Posts: 2,825
Anguirel is a guest of Tom Bombadil.
Draco Murdoch strikes

Dracomir stretched lanquidly across three seats at the now utterly deserted negotiation table. Even less progress had evidently been made by either side than yesterday. He had not really bothered, after his initial imput, to follow the sordid descent of the day's business into yet another sublime ludicrosity. A folded, silvery bundle on one chair-formerly Maika's-caught his eye, and he pocketed the Inaudibility Cloak once again. One couldn't be too careful. And it was something to do.

In a similar spirit, Tom produced the crumpled Mordorers' Map, and wearily muttered the weird incantation about filling in saves. Then, his eyes rolling, he attempted to locate his fellow, er, ambassadors. Smilog, surrounded by the usual pack of intoxicated intoxicates. Angawen and Beauregard not far off, pacing. Hyarmenwe and Maika in a wardrobe.

Hyarmenwe and Maika in a wardrobe???

Excellent. With the gossip-columnist mentality of a second-string villain, Dracomir grinned and twirled out his wand.

"Accio Rita Skeeter's Quick-Quotes-Quill!"

It was as Dracomir had suspected. Someone had, at some point, Assigned her to Mordor, and the Quill shot through a priceless window dating from the Second Age and depicting Sauron in the form of a fruitbat, shattering it to tiny pieces.

Dracomir stroked the Quill lightly, produced some clean parchment left over from the negotiations, and said in a monotone voice, "Your Hotness King Roggie, I think you should know that one of your ambassadors, Maika, has been found in a compromising permission with one of my colleagues. I fear treachery as well as gross moral misconduct. Signed, your old pal, Tom Felton."

He glanced at the paper. It was as he had hoped; the Quill had successfully read between the lines of his statement and produced a tabloid article dripping with lurid libel, denouncing Hyarmenwe and Maika as traitors to both their causes, as well as illicit lovers.

"Acccio Orc," the ghastly young journo-in-the-making cried imperiously, and a harrassed looking guard flew through an open door. "Take this to the King-without fail. Off you go."

The Lord Malfoidacil watched the Orc scurry off with a wicked smile on his angelic features.

Last edited by Anguirel; 09-02-2006 at 05:05 AM.
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