Author:
Syndic
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Date Posted: 18:12:25 01/24/03 Fri
finding it rather difficult to keep track of the arrivals for this impromptu gathering, the niveous one had simply stopped trying. he could tell there was yet another visitor, but he had no voice to match with the scent.
by the time he had retreated from the filing cabinet of his memory he discovered that one of the others had spoken again.uh oh syndic. now what? relax, relax, you've got a tape recorder, right? wrong. don't worry. search through that mammoth brain of yours, trust me, it's in there somewhere. backpeddling as fast as he could syndic managed to scramble together a small pile of information, and the general idea of what was said. as his auditives continued their uninterrupted sonar scan of the group syndic parted his mug to respond. this response was easier. this was the one he was used to giving. the blind stallion was definitely no great war hero. and probably less a strategist for one. ocourse, he had his opinions about what was to be done. almost never did he take the quatrains lightly, especially if their meanings were so obviously clear. but the prophecy had not been meant for him. and so, with the equality of a shrug, he launched into his quiet answer with more than a little reserve, keeping his sentences to a minimum now.
i do not know. the poem was not meant for me. or for you even, Thunderwave. it is the king who must decide his course of action here.
had the gesture been meaningful, and not comical he may have returned his gaze to the form of their leader, indicating that to him the spotlight should pass, as the lactescent brujo had undoubtedly had enough of it, and made blatant revelation of it in his poise; taking a half step backwards and diping his crania to a lower plane, always maintaining a direct stare toward the horizon, or whatever might impose itself into that range.
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