24-01-2005, 12:08 AM
I have not got far yet in the SIXTH STORY. I do not know yet...
Meantime, here is a spoiler from SIXTH STORY:
Meanwhile, RobDeLaMorte was in the bar, sipping his whisky, thinking how best to tackle Falz, when all of a sudden the room went silent. RobDeLaMorte could sense someone important or famous had come in, but paid no heed. The stranger walked over slowly to him, "Why do you not look, like the rest of these people?" he asked, in a calm voice. RobDeLaMorte carried on staring ahead, drinking. "Because I have much more important work to do, than look at some silly person, like an awestruck sheep..." The stranger thought for a moment. "Well?" RobDeLaMorte asked, "Well what?" the stranger replied. "Bugger off, so I may have a quiet uninterrupted drink!" Gasps emenated from across the bar. The stranger frowned inside his mask, and slowly, stealthily, pulled out a scythe. He swung at RobDeLaMorte's back, but RobDeLaMorte saw his reflection in the bar, span round, and caught the blade between his hands. "That is not very friendly..." He said slowly, as he glared at his opponent. He stood there, tall yet a little stocky in his build. He was a ranger, and he wore a black cloak and a seemingly empty mask. "Who are you?" RobDeLaMorte asked slowly. "Who wants to know?" The cold voice spoke back to him. "RobDeLaMorte, The Undead One!" The mask suddenly glowed red at the eye-pieces. "You...you are the one I have been searching for. I have been hired to slay you!" The stranger said, as he drew his scythe back again. "Aren't you going to tell me your name then? It's common courtesy." RobDeLaMorte replied slowly, while sipping some more beer. The stranger flinched, "...Very well. Though it will not do you any good in a minute...I am the famed assassin Grave!" RobDeLaMorte finished his whisky. "Well Grave, shall we step outside?" They both did so...
Meantime, here is a spoiler from SIXTH STORY:
Meanwhile, RobDeLaMorte was in the bar, sipping his whisky, thinking how best to tackle Falz, when all of a sudden the room went silent. RobDeLaMorte could sense someone important or famous had come in, but paid no heed. The stranger walked over slowly to him, "Why do you not look, like the rest of these people?" he asked, in a calm voice. RobDeLaMorte carried on staring ahead, drinking. "Because I have much more important work to do, than look at some silly person, like an awestruck sheep..." The stranger thought for a moment. "Well?" RobDeLaMorte asked, "Well what?" the stranger replied. "Bugger off, so I may have a quiet uninterrupted drink!" Gasps emenated from across the bar. The stranger frowned inside his mask, and slowly, stealthily, pulled out a scythe. He swung at RobDeLaMorte's back, but RobDeLaMorte saw his reflection in the bar, span round, and caught the blade between his hands. "That is not very friendly..." He said slowly, as he glared at his opponent. He stood there, tall yet a little stocky in his build. He was a ranger, and he wore a black cloak and a seemingly empty mask. "Who are you?" RobDeLaMorte asked slowly. "Who wants to know?" The cold voice spoke back to him. "RobDeLaMorte, The Undead One!" The mask suddenly glowed red at the eye-pieces. "You...you are the one I have been searching for. I have been hired to slay you!" The stranger said, as he drew his scythe back again. "Aren't you going to tell me your name then? It's common courtesy." RobDeLaMorte replied slowly, while sipping some more beer. The stranger flinched, "...Very well. Though it will not do you any good in a minute...I am the famed assassin Grave!" RobDeLaMorte finished his whisky. "Well Grave, shall we step outside?" They both did so...