Day 30: Support Group XIII
Home free! it has been interesting trying to come up with something every day. Some days it was a stone drag (and it shows!). Other times the ideas flowed pretty freely. I'll revisit some of the stories, and probably throw some away.
Since I am not finishing the Support Group story in time, I can't call it an unqualified success. Still, I mostly did what I set out to do.
Tomorrow I'm not writing a damn thing!
Haldorn drove like the death knights of Monheil was on our tail. In the rearview mirror Istvaan seemed to have an uncommonly sickly pallor. For a man who spends his days in the realms cthonic that was quite a feat. The hell-ride did not seem to affect Michael in the least. He looked out the window, enigmatic as an Azure Mountain gargoyle.
“Are we there yet?” asked Istvaan
“'mouth , sorcerer!” Haldorn narrowly avoided turning a bunch of teenagers into a fine paste. In the rearview mirror I could see them making rude gestures at the car.
“I'm going to be sick.” Istvaan said through gritted teeth. “You should be proud, barbarian. Your driving has done what seven nights in the Felharn abattoir could not.”
We turned a corner, and Haldorn braked violently. The car had not stopped moving before Istvaan threw the door open and vomitted on the pavement.
“Anything happens to the upholstery I end you” Haldorn warned.
Istvaan gurgled. “And incur the wrath of the fair priestess?” Another wave of nausea hit, and he threw it to his heels.
I felt very much like a couple of drinks and a long, deep sleep. I was really not up for an early morning council with Haldorn and Istvaan at each other's throats.
“There are only a few blocks to Citraea's place. Can't we for the love of the gods take the last part of the trip in silence”.
“With pleasure” Istvaan said, wiping his mouth. “If nothing else comes out of me tonight I will be thankful”. Haldorn grunted.
Istvaan closed the door, and we drove the last stretch in complete silence. To Haldorn's credit no pedestrians were killed.
As we parked the car we saw Elénaril exit a cab like she was stepping onto an elven feast barge. When she saw us get out of Haldorn's car she made a face.
“Is he coming?” She pointed at Istvaan with a stiff finger.
“He is” I said with a sigh. “Citraea thinks we might need his counsel. We have dark matters to discuss.”
“I cannot imagine anything his fetid mind could dredge up will be useful to any living soul”.
Haldorn chuckled, and Istvaan smiled. If a scorpion could show signs of mirth it would look something like that smile.
“I am hurt, Queen Elénaril. After all I did not succeed in tainting the Well of Immortals.”
She gave him a petrifying stare and turned on her heel. We all crowded up the stairs, where Citraea held the door open.
Inside Gaspard was dumping sugar into his coffee while Milona was helping the still-bound George drink tea from a chipped mug.
Everyone was present and accounted for. The meeting could begin.
Since I am not finishing the Support Group story in time, I can't call it an unqualified success. Still, I mostly did what I set out to do.
Tomorrow I'm not writing a damn thing!
Haldorn drove like the death knights of Monheil was on our tail. In the rearview mirror Istvaan seemed to have an uncommonly sickly pallor. For a man who spends his days in the realms cthonic that was quite a feat. The hell-ride did not seem to affect Michael in the least. He looked out the window, enigmatic as an Azure Mountain gargoyle.
“Are we there yet?” asked Istvaan
“'mouth , sorcerer!” Haldorn narrowly avoided turning a bunch of teenagers into a fine paste. In the rearview mirror I could see them making rude gestures at the car.
“I'm going to be sick.” Istvaan said through gritted teeth. “You should be proud, barbarian. Your driving has done what seven nights in the Felharn abattoir could not.”
We turned a corner, and Haldorn braked violently. The car had not stopped moving before Istvaan threw the door open and vomitted on the pavement.
“Anything happens to the upholstery I end you” Haldorn warned.
Istvaan gurgled. “And incur the wrath of the fair priestess?” Another wave of nausea hit, and he threw it to his heels.
I felt very much like a couple of drinks and a long, deep sleep. I was really not up for an early morning council with Haldorn and Istvaan at each other's throats.
“There are only a few blocks to Citraea's place. Can't we for the love of the gods take the last part of the trip in silence”.
“With pleasure” Istvaan said, wiping his mouth. “If nothing else comes out of me tonight I will be thankful”. Haldorn grunted.
Istvaan closed the door, and we drove the last stretch in complete silence. To Haldorn's credit no pedestrians were killed.
As we parked the car we saw Elénaril exit a cab like she was stepping onto an elven feast barge. When she saw us get out of Haldorn's car she made a face.
“Is he coming?” She pointed at Istvaan with a stiff finger.
“He is” I said with a sigh. “Citraea thinks we might need his counsel. We have dark matters to discuss.”
“I cannot imagine anything his fetid mind could dredge up will be useful to any living soul”.
Haldorn chuckled, and Istvaan smiled. If a scorpion could show signs of mirth it would look something like that smile.
“I am hurt, Queen Elénaril. After all I did not succeed in tainting the Well of Immortals.”
She gave him a petrifying stare and turned on her heel. We all crowded up the stairs, where Citraea held the door open.
Inside Gaspard was dumping sugar into his coffee while Milona was helping the still-bound George drink tea from a chipped mug.
Everyone was present and accounted for. The meeting could begin.