Pio stepped out from behind the bar, her great sword drawn in her right hand, and in her left a long knife should she need it. She strode to where the Orcs stood and sighed as she brought the tips of her two blades to bear on them.
'Behave,' she bade them. 'As long as you are in the inn or on it's grounds . . . behave . . . or move on.'
'Share your stories, have a drink, but lay not a hand, claw, fang, or any weapon on a guest at the Inn - lest you face my swift and final retribution.'
She felt the terrible heat of the Balrog as he drew near. 'And that goes for you also, Valarauko,' she addressed him, turning so that the flat of her sword caught the reddish glow from off his fiery form.
The fine tracery of the Elven script on the blade blazed out, and the creatures of shadow trembled at the power wrought within it . . .
From tip to hilt the letters flowed, weaving their terrible message:
[img]smilies/smile.gif[/img] 0==I~e~d~i~t~/~d~e~l~e~t~e~~> [img]smilies/smile.gif[/img]
[ March 26, 2003: Message edited by: piosenniel ]
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Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.
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