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Date Posted: 10:00:12 11/21/01 Wed
Author: Marz
Subject: What did she say her name was?
In reply to: Isobel Delgado 's message, "Misadventures" on 05:10:55 11/21/01 Wed

Marz tried to assume a murderous expression as he stared up at Tristan. He did a good job of it until he sneezed, sending at least a hundred tiny feathers into the air. Luckily, a few of them tickled the dragon's nose. When Tristan began sneezing, Marz rolled to his left, nearly tossing the dragon right off the bed. Moving quickly, he pulled Tristan to the center of the mattress then straddled him. "Now who's gonna tickle who to death?" he asked, an evil grin playing on his face. As he moved to attack, Corum smacked him across the back of the head with his pillow.

"Oops," the skull-staff wielder muttered when Marz jumped off the bed and charged him. Not wanting to miss out on the opportunity to pelt the crap out of Corum, Tristan joined in the fun.

The youths fought valiantly until there were no feathers left in their pillows. Panting and laughing hysterically at the same time, Marz dropped to his knees. Once he regained his composure, he made a face at the new feather carpet that now lined the room. "I'm NOT cleaning this mess," he announced. "The raking zombies can do it!" His words ended in a succession of sneezes. While rubbing his nose, he got to his feet, stirring up little whirlwinds of feathers as he moved to sit on the bed.

"That was the best damn lesson on meditation I ever had," he said, breaking into a wide smile. When Corum gave him a puzzled look, Marz explained how he and Tristan had been diligently working on some chakra exercises before his arrival. "They're supposed to make you relax……and a lot smarter. What to try them?"

After receiving a nod from Corum, the ex-gang leader got to his feet then showed him how to do the jumping jacks. "Okay, it's your turn now, Corum. Do them until I tell you to stop."

Marz sat back down on the bed, pulling Tristan down beside him. When he saw the cloud of feathers that swirled around the jumping Corum, he buried his face into Tristan's shoulder and shook with more laughter. "If we snuck out and left him here, I bet the idiot would keep on going until he passed out from fatigue!"

The idea was tempting but since they were to embark on the quest for the Queen's magical branches soon, Marz decided to be a nice guy, telling Corum to stop after ten minutes. "Don't you feel a hell of a lot smarter now?" he asked the skull-staff wielder, trying to look serous. Of course that lasted for less than a minute because he burst out laughing again when his panting friend collapsed to his knees from over exertion.

"Let's grab our gear and get back to the dining hall before the others leave without us!" Marz flew to his feet, grabbed his backpack then led his friends from the room. He stopped to order some zombies they passed to clean up the room before continuing on to the dining hall.

They entered the large room just as a female stranger was introducing herself. "Who the hell did she say she was?" Marz whispered to Tristan, when he got lost after the Maria part of her name.

His dark eyes roamed along her petite, yet curvaceous, body before coming to rest on her beautiful face that was surrounded by a mass of long, dark hair. Although Marz normally found himself instantly attracted to blondes, he had to admit that the raven-haired beauties he encountered in Neromba were always a turn-on. When he met Isobel's eyes he gave her a lopsided grin, frowning a moment later when Corum nudged him and suggested they take seats at the table.

Marz thought about moving closer to the woman and introducing himself, but decided against it. Tristan might think he was coming on to her or something. Besides, it was never a good idea to playfully flirt with someone while the person you loved was standing right beside you!

Tearing his eyes away from Isobel, Marz moved to sit at the table, with Corum and Tristan joining him. "That's one hellava nice looking stiletto she's holding isn't it?" he asked, his gaze once again roaming along the curvaceous form of the newcomer.

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