*Swift, struggling with the weight of Lauren, eventually comes into the dry entrance. Depositing Thistle on the ground, he drags himself forward, grunting and panting. He takes a swig off of one of his many flasks, and says to Lauren.* Blimey! Can't a lass lighten up? S'all that plain bread and cheese as makes you fat, love. No offense and all, of course... *Coughpantwheeze.* Bloody... I'm out of shape... -- The Hunt for Warpeye

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Subject	Author	Date
(ooc: * pokes at a mostly dead vermin.* well, this one isn't fully dead. he's mostly dead...)) Mickle hops up shaking about in an attempt to dry his fur. thankee much, My good otter-type. now, where's the food?	Mickle	16:24:38 10/13/03 Mon