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One Man's Passion, One Lonely World star star star star halfstar


Well, that was curious.

 

Intrigued, you heave your long body up the staircase after the people who ran by. Light shines coldly from a large stained glass window as you reach the first landing and continue onward, tongue flicking restlessly.

 

At the top, the five humans are huddled around a large slip of paper.

 

A Coleman lantern blasts its pale light as they whisper and plot. You notice they're dressed all in black, but not in uniforms; it's like five different people looked through their closets and did the best they could. So too with their firearms; no military weapons are these, but commercially available arms--30.06's, other hunting rifles, a .45 caliber pistol.

 

"We'll go to the end of this hallway and enter this room," a leaderly man states, older but wiry and spry, "It's labeled here as the Hall of Hooves. Byron, when we get in, use your walking stick to hold open the door closest to our right. If it doesn't close, we won't be forced to choose. After we exit the Hall, we all continue *straight* down the next until we get to a large set of double doors, and a fork in the hall. We can then plot our next move. And--"

 

"Lance! Target!" A motherly woman points a finger at you as you crest the stairs. They all turn and stare at your lizardly form for a moment. Your tongue flicks out involuntarily and you hold it in shyly.

 

Lance, the elder man, looks at you with sympathy. "Can you understand us, friend?" he asks. You decide to tap your right fore-foot twice significantly, and they seem to understand.

 

"Should we take it with us?" asks the second woman, a young, homely, hardy thing.

 

Before Lance can answer, a hauntingly familiar voice fills the hallway.

 

"There are many points in the mansion where you will change forms..."

 

"RUN FOR IT!" the older man shouts. He tears the paper off the ground and the five humans sprint for their lives toward a door fifty feet away. Lance flings the door open.

 

"Byron, *now!*"

 

Byron, a young black-haired lad, disappears into the room, followed by the others.

 

"I'm sorry." Lance looks at you one last time as the door closes, and you are again alone.



Written by Mr.Peaches on 24 October 2006


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