RE: TIMEOTHY'S DND CAMPAIGN IS OPEN FOR BUSINESS
01-18-2012, 09:30 PM
(Hey it's time for TimeothyHour to pretend everything was in past tense in the first place.)
Awkward silence settled over the group, save for the quiet whine of the violin, the high, empty roof of the building reflecting and amplifying the music.
Did minutes pass? Hours? Seconds? Either way, the violin continued to play, on and on, seeming to play an eternity.
Until it, too, fell silent.
And just as the silence settled in, the wait beginning to try on the adventurer's nerves, he arrived.
He wasn't young, like the words "A very rich and influential man," would suggest. He looked to be about eighty, and if the way he was lead forward by a much younger (and also absolutely gorgeous) woman indicated anything, it was that he was blind. In his other hand, he held a cane, that hit the tile floor with a heavy THUMP as they continued forward.
Slowly, the couple walked, the slow rhythm of one-two-three-four THUMP one-two-three-four THUMP now echoing off of the high ceiling of the hall.
And, once they had finally reached the center of the room, they stopped.
Silence. Then, the rotted smile of the old man.
And finally, he spoke.
"That was some very nice violin, my dear. Please keep playing."
Awkward silence settled over the group, save for the quiet whine of the violin, the high, empty roof of the building reflecting and amplifying the music.
Did minutes pass? Hours? Seconds? Either way, the violin continued to play, on and on, seeming to play an eternity.
Until it, too, fell silent.
And just as the silence settled in, the wait beginning to try on the adventurer's nerves, he arrived.
He wasn't young, like the words "A very rich and influential man," would suggest. He looked to be about eighty, and if the way he was lead forward by a much younger (and also absolutely gorgeous) woman indicated anything, it was that he was blind. In his other hand, he held a cane, that hit the tile floor with a heavy THUMP as they continued forward.
Slowly, the couple walked, the slow rhythm of one-two-three-four THUMP one-two-three-four THUMP now echoing off of the high ceiling of the hall.
And, once they had finally reached the center of the room, they stopped.
Silence. Then, the rotted smile of the old man.
And finally, he spoke.
"That was some very nice violin, my dear. Please keep playing."