upon this fellow,
upon this fellow, the mage questioned the desk clerk as to the possibility that an attorney-at-law could be found among the hotel’s current clientele.
The desk clerk, alas, proved to be an ignorant, slothful, and insolent wight. Ignorant, in that he claimed no knowledge of any characteristic of any of the hotel’s residents beyond the adequacy of their purse. Slothful, in that he proclaimed an utter lack of interest in correcting this appalling state of ignorance. Insolent, in that he responded to the mage’s vigorous insistence that he do so with a series of exclamations the which ranged from uncouth to downright scurrilous.
No doubt the surly fellow would have been smitten by the mage’s wizardrous fury at that point, had not one of the individuals lounging on a nearby divan spoken up. Croaked up, it might be better to say:
“There’s a lawyer in the saloon,” rasped he, in what seemed to be his last breath.
“Gee,” whispered Shelyid, “I thought he was dead.” And, indeed, the fellow expired that very moment.
The urgency of his task overriding his urge to chasten the desk clerk, the irate thaumaturge immediately stalked to the saloon adjoining the lobby, guided by the sign appended over the swinging doors: needless to say, aloon.
Thence did the mage take himself, entering a low-ceilinged room whose atmosphere was most vilely polluted by smoke and the miasma of sundry
The desk clerk, alas, proved to be an ignorant, slothful, and insolent wight. Ignorant, in that he claimed no knowledge of any characteristic of any of the hotel’s residents beyond the adequacy of their purse. Slothful, in that he proclaimed an utter lack of interest in correcting this appalling state of ignorance. Insolent, in that he responded to the mage’s vigorous insistence that he do so with a series of exclamations the which ranged from uncouth to downright scurrilous.
No doubt the surly fellow would have been smitten by the mage’s wizardrous fury at that point, had not one of the individuals lounging on a nearby divan spoken up. Croaked up, it might be better to say:
“There’s a lawyer in the saloon,” rasped he, in what seemed to be his last breath.
“Gee,” whispered Shelyid, “I thought he was dead.” And, indeed, the fellow expired that very moment.
The urgency of his task overriding his urge to chasten the desk clerk, the irate thaumaturge immediately stalked to the saloon adjoining the lobby, guided by the sign appended over the swinging doors: needless to say, aloon.
Thence did the mage take himself, entering a low-ceilinged room whose atmosphere was most vilely polluted by smoke and the miasma of sundry