MIDDLE EARTH ; oo1

[phatroles]

[ The party's already in full swing by the time you arrive, checking your name off with a doorman so sozzled that the whole exercise is pointless anyway. It's a bit surprising how many people the Prancing Pony can fit, or indeed how many have even turned up.

Why are you here? Well, that's obvious, of course. It's because-- never mind, that's not the important thing. There's a greeting to be given, and drinks flowing freely. Perhaps you'll find old friends or make ones new. Perhaps the same will be true of enemies too. Maybe you'll even notice tat you don't quite look the same as you thought you did.

Perhaps you'll find out why your thoughts are rhyming and your sense of timing is off. It's not likely. This isn't a riddle to be taken so lightly.

But you have a part to play, even if you don't quite realise it. Maybe that dysphoric, I-Shouldn't-Be-Here sensation is the result of too much Hobbit weed in the air? Just go with that for now, before you think too much and spoil your fun. ]

Comments

[muchfaster]

YIPE!! [that. that was way too violent! Sena's heart's back in his throat, even as he peeks out from between his fingers to see...lots of people pulling out swords.]

Hi-Hiruma-s--!!

[thatjackass]

RUN!! [He shoves Sena toward the door, laughing like a maniac as he jumps on the bar and fires at everyone who whipped out a sword. He's not hitting anything vital, but just enough to slow them down so he and Sena could get the fuck out.]

[muchfaster]

[run? running's what he's all about. Sena totally runs.

er, tries: those giant hobbit feet make it a struggle. it's like the running-through-tires exercise! he winds up with a hop-like gait, but he's pretty darn quick, all things considered, until tripping over his own feet once more and falling flat on his face.]

Yurhghhh... [lifting his head up, squinting.] Eh?

[blinkblink.]

EEEHHHHH–?!

[the crowded room was one thing, but look at this scenery!]