There was 'Nog, but no rum

You people must realize that the only times I actually make a post, is when I'm not at home.

Okay, not all the time. But at least the random posts are made most often when I'm on the road, or on vaction.

Well, you can add another first to this.

I'm kinda drunk.

Yes, egg nog and vodka. What? Vodka? No Rum? Why no rum? Well, that would be because there is no rum in the house right now. There's just Smirnoff Triple Distilled vodka. But won't that curdle the egg nog, you ask. Well, in theory, yes. Egg nog is essentially a dairy product. As my friend Pearce pointed out, it could curdle it. But, not if you pour the vodka first, then the egg nog.

Really, this post is going nowhere right now, so I'm gonna go back to my 'nog. Merry Christmas, everyone. And a happy new year.

It Came Upon A Midnight Clear, Pt. 5

The four riders watched the small cottage from the crest of the hill, ignoring the cold wind that whipped around them. The sounds of joy and laughter seemed to calm the cold that surrounded them. Sywyn could only smile as he listened to the sounds of laughter and song. “And we did it without drawing weapons or shedding blood,” he said softly.

“No' ev'rythin' need be done with a blade,” Mandrel said as he nudged the paladin gently.

“'R a shootin' iron,” Shani added with a grin. “Though, we done 'nough o' thet what bein' in Mexico, over in the Territories an' even forty year back in the deep south.”

“Nice change o' pace it is,” Pania stated with a firm nod as she began to steer her horse down the trail. “I think we start ridin', we'll 'it Saint-Marie by the new year.” The others nodded and began to follow her slowly. “Plus, we've already go' a way ta give word ta the locals down there.”

“Oh, how exactly would that be?” Sywyn asked with genuine curiosity.

“I know the 'Uron an' Algonquin languages,” Pania said with a confident grin. “An' I know o' an ol' carol that'll give 'em word. I'll sing it as we ride.” There were no arguments from the others as they rode, only giving Pania the opening she needed to begin. And she did indeed sing in the native tongue that the song was originally written in. “Ehstehn yayau deh tsaun we yisus ahattonnia...”

'Twas in the moon of wintertime when all the birds had fled, That mighty Gitchi Manitou sent angel choirs instead;
Before their light the stars grew dim and wondering hunters heard the hymn, Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

Within a lodge of broken bark the tender babe was found; A ragged robe of rabbit skin enwrapped his beauty round
But as the hunter braves drew nigh the angel song rang loud and high, Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

The earliest moon of wintertime is not so round and fair, As was the ring of glory on the helpless infant there.
The chiefs from far before him knelt with gifts of fox and beaver pelt. Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

O children of the forest free, O seed of Manitou, The holy Child of earth and heaven is born today for you.
Come kneel before the radiant boy who brings you beauty peace and joy. Jesus your King is born, Jesus is born, in excelsis gloria.

Words: Jean de Brebeuf, ca. 1643; trans by Jesse Edgar Middleton, 1926, Music: French Canadian melody (tune name: Jesous Ahatonhia)

It Came Upon A Midnight Clear, Pt. 4

Mandrel finished hitching the horses to the wagon and looked to his sister. Pania was organizing the last of the parcels and packages carefully. It had taken most of the day and a good part of the evening, but they had managed to collect enough to gather together a decent care package for the small family. While it felt good to entertain, carol and share in the spirit of the season with the locals, the Alow siblings could not help but shake their heads in wonder at what they were doing.

“Typical o' a paladin, isna it,” Mandrel sighed as he climbed into the driver's seat of the wagon. “Granted, a' least 'e's getting' caught up in the spirit o' this world's joyful time o' year.”

“Cannu take tha' 'way from Sywyn,” Pania nodded in agreement as she climbed onto the bench next to her brother. “Shani an' Sywyn should be comin' 'long any minute. Then we can ge' this wagon load movin'.”

“Least it'll be a nice s'prise fer the family, tha's fer certain.” Pania took a look around the area for a moment. The sky was clear, and the village itself was quiet. Noises of song came from some of the homes, but nothing as boisterous as the first day they arrived. “Shani an' Sywyn said they were gonna meet us 'ere in town square.”

“Aye,” Mandrel said with a slight sigh as he took out a pocket watch. “They're five minutes late.”

“Yer watch is fast,” came the familiar twang of the elven gunslinger. Shani sat comfortably in her saddle as the horse loped up to the wagon. Sywyn was not far behind. “Ev'rythin' set?” she asked with a lazy drawl.

“Ready as ever,” Pania replied with a shrug.

“Then let us get this moved,” Sywyn said in his usual even tone. Without any other words, the four began the slow trek to the small cottage. There may not have been a Santa Claus that Christmas Eve, but at least there would be elves.

*****

The children played in the front yard of the small cottage, never straying too far away from their small abode. They had already received a Christmas gift, their home was saved. At least they had something to be joyous about. One of the children stopped his activity and listened carefully. It was the same small boy that had first encountered the elves the previous night. He looked to the lane that lead into the yard and watched as two riders gently trudged through the snow. He recognized them both. Shani and Sywyn Wennemein, two of the four elves. But what came behind them made him cry out with a great cheer.

The other pair of siblings sat comfortably on the wagon, pulled by two strong horses. It was loaded with bags and parcels and all manner of things. The other children stopped to watch, suddenly realizing they had visitors. The celebration had begun. Their mother came out of the house, a smile on her face when she saw Sywyn, and then tears of joy as she saw the wagon.

Christmas had come to this small cottage. A miracle had happened for all of them that night.

It Came Upon A Midnight Clear, Pt. 3

Sywyn found the small abode easily. The boy had described where he and his family lived with great detail. He spoke of his brothers and sisters, and the passing of his father only six months earlier. The elven knight stopped to marvel at the dwelling. Stricken by poverty, this family still managed to bring together the signs of the season. A small spruce tree in the front yard was decorated in paper ornaments, hand crafted with care. Candles lined the window sill. Even laughter seemed to fill the air as the children played. Sywyn deduced that the impending problems had been spared to most here. He knew he had to do something, but the sounds of laughter made him determined.

He urged his horse forward, the hooves crunching through the snow. His mind raced as to what he could do. Perhaps with the help of his sister and the Alows they might be able to make this season joyful for at least one family. As his horse travelled forward, some of the children stopped to watch. Their faces lit up as one small boy whispered to each. This is the one, he would tell them. One of Santa's elves come to help them.

Sywyn brought his horse to a halt in the yard as the children began to gather around, expressions of wonder and curiosity filling their faces. Sywyn was just like any elf, the slender features, the delicate form. But he held a humbling aura about himself. He did not proclaim himself as a holy knight, he did not shout out upon his arrival. The works of his god could be carried out in silence, just as they could with trumpeting revelry.

As he dismounted and looked to the children, he realized something. Whether he believed in the stories of this world or not, was completely irrelevant. Saint Nikolaus, Father Christmas, The Christ Child... They all held truth. It all came down to one thing.

Peace on Earth.

Good will t'ward all men.

Wordlessly, he smiled to each child, then walked toward the small dwelling. One of the older children tended to his horse as he neared the front door. He could see their mother inside. Her face filled with sorrow. There was someone else inside with her. Perhaps this was the man who was so determined in driving her from this land. He would soon find out, as he carefully knocked on the door.

The door opened slowly and the woman looked to Sywyn with questioning eyes. Her face was red from tears, and his heart went out to her. As he removed his stetson, he introduced himself. “Miss. My name is Sywyn Wennemein. I am a knight in the elven court. But your children have come to say that I am here from some place where Saint Nikolaus lives.” He watched her a moment to gauge her response before continuing. “That is not important. What is important, is what your son told me only last night.”

“I doubt you could help,” a mocking voice called from inside the home. “Santa's little helper,” he said with a mocking laugh. “Next ya know the sugar plum fairy will make an appearance.” Sywyn looked past the woman to the finely dressed man who sat at the kitchen table. He was smoking a pipe as he lounged, and a valet stood nearby to attend to his needs. “At midnight tonight, this land will be mine, unless she can come up with the five hundred dollars needed to pay me in full. This was a full contract that was written...”

“The harvest has been poor,” she quickly interrupted him as she choked back tears. “And Harold's passing made it more difficult.”

The man huffed and only seemed to harden himself. “A contract is a contract, miss. If I bent to everyone, then I'd have nothing, wouldn't I now.”

Sywyn heard the short exchange, and knew that he didn't have the money on him, but he still had something else. He arrived on Earth still carrying the gold he had on him when he needed to purchase supplies. And he learned that when in the company of two bards, gold was not always a necessity. Pania and Mandrel could more than 'pay' for their needs by entertaining the crowds with song and dance. So his own gold merely weighed him down.

He removed the satchel from his shoulder and place it on the table in front of the man. “Should this be enough?” The man stared at Sywyn in disbelief before looking into the satchel. His eyes grew wide as he saw the pure gold coins that sat within. Quickly, he grabbed it and handed it to his valet.

“More 'n enough,” the man said as he grabbed his coat. “The land is yours, woman. May we never see each other again.” Without another word, both he and his valet left. Sywyn turned to the woman, watching her carefully, and seeing the change in her emotions.

She looked to him as she tried to hold back her tears, finally letting them flow with ease as she rushed forward to hug him. He smiled as he held her, feeling that he was able to accomplish this without drawing his weapon, without shedding blood. “If only that were all,” she whispered through her tears. “The poor harvest has left us with little food and little money to buy what we need.”

He held her at arms length and looked into her eyes. “I promise, I'll do what I can. I haven't been here long. But I do know that I'll do whatever I can so that at least your Christmas will be a joyous one.”

*****

“Y'all went an' done sumthin' stupid, didn't you, Sywyn,” Shani huffed as she steered her horse toward his. She'd heard him leave that morning, and had some idea what he had done. Plus it didn't take much for her to track him, it was like following a messy child through an empty room.

“The woman and her children have their land,” he announced as he brought his horse beside his sister's. “Now they just need food to last the rest of the winter.”

“Food, huh,” she repeated as the wheels in her head started to turn. “Figger we kin git thet t'gether fer 'em?”

“I have only a little gold left to purchase some food,” he replied with some regret. “Perhaps these people might give in response to the time of year.” Shani nodded, knowing full well that her brother had already had his mind set. She knew that he planned on filling a wagon and delivering it to the home. He'd do nothing less.

It Came Upon A Midnight Clear, Pt. 2

Just outside Ottawa, Ontario, December 24, 1897

Sywyn Wennemein rose early that morning. As a holy knight of his home world, he went about his duties as he normally would. And just like he remembered from his time spent in Old Mexico, he could not hear but a whisper from his god. But there was something else. Another voice that penetrated through to his very soul. And it sounded like the song of angels.

His mind kept drifting back to the tale the boy had spoken of the previous night. How a land owner forced his family to work, and had given them notice that he would drive them from their land. Land, he found out from the other villagers, they had rightfully purchased. But they could do nothing. It seemed this landowner had a great deal of influence in the near by nation's capital of Ottawa, in particular with the government in power and the Prime Minister.

This tale, coupled with the joyful noise the people of the tavern had made, only troubled him more so. During a time of forgiveness, a time of joy and celebrations, one family would feel the wrath of a man who obvious did not have the spirit of this season in mind. Descriptions of the celebration hearkened back to a time during the winter months that many on his own homeworld would often celebrate. When winter's bite would become deep, the only way to fight back was not with the sword, but a sound of joy.

No matter the world, no matter the plane, Sywyn Wennemein knew his duty. He was a paladin, a holy knight. And even though his clothing may look like that of a gunslinger, he still carried the sword of his family at his side. He would do what he could to right the wrongs which had been done.

*****

Shani Wennemein loped downstairs lazily, knowing that the Alow siblings had already made their way to breakfast. If there was one thing she had learned from her traveling companion Pania, she was an early riser. And her brother Mandrel was no different. Already the pair had been entertaining, as a throng of children from the village had been transfixed by their tales that they told. The master bards had been at work, and they worked their magic well.

Pania caught sight of Shani and gave her a wink and motioned her over. The lithe gunslinger moved slowly across the floor, her spurs jingling on her boots like the bells of a reindeer. Shani leaned against the wood of the bar and watched closely as Mandrel and Pania continued to work their magic.

“Now, we've tol' ye a few tales o' darin' an' such,” announced Mandrel to the children who seemed riveted to his every word. “Bu' me sister an' I, we've 'eard a lo' through our travels.”

“We know o' stories far an' wide, aye,” Pania said with a wide grin, as her most dramatic voice caught the attention of not only the children, but some of the adults that had come into the tavern. Word had spread quickly that these four were elves, and that there may indeed be some truth to the tale of good old Saint Nikolaus. “Bu' there's a tale, which I know is dear ta many a 'eart 'roun' these parts.” She gave a nod to the vicar, who had himself come to see this spectacle. “An' a lo' o' these 're no' jus' stories. There's a great deal o' truth ta 'em.”

“Tha's righ',” Mandrel picked up without missing a beat. “Twenty year back the four o' us travelled through Old Mexico, an' a padre in Santa Vega taught us this tale.” Mandrel gingerly picked up a guitar and began to strum, smiling as the gentle tune began to play. As he could hear nothing but the gentle strum of the strings, he began to sing. “Jesus our brother, kind and good, was humbly born in a stable rude, and the friendly beasts around Him stood. Jesus our brother, kind and good.”

Mandrel didn't miss a beat, as the smiling eyes of the vicar took in the lyrics of the song. “'I,' said the donkey, shaggy and brown, 'I carried His mother up hill and down; I carried her safely to Bethlehem town. I,' said the donkey, shaggy and brown.”

Without fail, Pania picked up the tune, letting her soothing voice add to the soft duet. “'I,' said the cow, all white and red 'I gave Him my manger for a bed; I gave Him my hay to pillow His head. I,' said the cow, all white and red.”

Mandrel took up the song once again as he strummed the strings, noting that Shani had moved closer to the duo from the corner of his eye. “'I,' said the sheep with curly horn, 'I gave Him my wool for His blanket warm; He wore my coat on Christmas morn. I,' said the sheep with curly horn.”

Without prompting, the elven gunslinger added her crooning voice to the duet, making a trio, and proving that the race of elves was indeed a musical and magical one. “'I,' said the dove from the rafters high, 'Cooed Him to sleep that He should not cry; We cooed Him to sleep, my mate and I. I,' said the dove from the rafters high.”

The three voices rang out in perfect harmony as they came together as though one voice. “'I,' said the camel, yellow and black, 'Over the desert, upon my back, I brought Him a gift in the Wise Men's pack. I,' said the camel, yellow and black.”

The musical notes of the guitar softened as Mandrel sang the final verse. The entire tavern was quiet as they listened intently to the old English tune. “Thus every beast by some good spell, In the stable dark was glad to tell, Of the gift he gave Emmanuel, The gift he gave Emmanuel.”

As the notes faded into the room, the gathered crowd applauded gleefully, as though a kind of magic had been born that Christmas Eve.

lyrics from Old English Christmas Carol, Written By Unknown

It Came Upon A Midnight Clear, Pt. 1

I decided to interrupt the usual story of the current adventures of Black Mask and Pale Rider to bring you this Christmas story.

Rideau Canal, Ottawa, Ontario, December 23, 1897

The snow crunched underneath the horses hooves, sounding louder than it should have, but the air was crisp and cool and all the sounds that were made seemed that much louder. The four riders huddled together as they travelled the road, using their body heat to keep themselves warm, as the long coats weren't helping. At least there was no wind, that would have just made it worse.

"Tell me 'gain," Shani Wennemein chattered as she clutched the coat closer. "Why in the Sam Hill did we d'cide ta do this 'gain?"

"Easy, Shan," Pania Alow replied, chattering away with as much gusto. "B'cause we wanted ta show the siblings wha' this time o' year were like on Earth."

"I much preferred Old Mexico," Mandrel stated with a firm nod. "It might've been dry, bu' at least it were a lo' warmer." He snickered and looked to his left, studying the stoic rider that was Sywyn Wennemein. "Ye've been quite. Cold no' affectin' ye?"

"It affects me a great deal," Sywyn replied in an even tone. "I just choose not to complain."

"Heh," Mandrel smirked as he puffed out frosty air from between his lips. "Well then, I 'ope ye dunna mind if I choose ta complain, lad." He rubbed his hands together before taking up the reins of his horse once more, urging him forward. "Could deal with a warm cup o' cider 'bou' now."

"We may be in luck," Pania called out and pointed ahead. To their surprise and as if to answer their prayers, the warm glow of lights greeted them through the trees. "Small settlement, this way we can figger ou' where we are."

"I bet we don't gotta figger out the when," Shani huffed a puff of air and urged her mount forward. The four rode slowly but with determination. Warmth was not that far away. As the glow became definite lights, they almost seemed to let out a sigh of relief. Laughter and song could be heard from one of the buildings as they drew near. A pub, by it's appearance. And aptly names. The Red Rose. A fine name that made Shani grin despite the cold. "Any port in a storm, eh Panny?"

"True tha'," Pania grinned back. Storm it may not have been, but the sight of a tavern in the middle of such a cold night was a welcome sight. From the sounds that came from within it's walls, it appeared as though celebrations had begun. The four elves brought their horses to a stop near the pub, and found a helpful gentleman ready to tend to their needs.

"G'deve ta ye," he called out as Pania dismounted. He watched the others as they did the same before continuing. "Cold night ta see trav'llers on th' road. Wha' brings ye this way t'night?"

"Travellin'," Pania replied with a smile. "Ta experience the season in some place new."

The old man squinted his eyes as he studied the four. "No' from 'roun' these parts, are ye? Travel far?"

"Oh, y'all could say thet," Shani replied with a chuckle and a wink to Pania. The elven bard only smile slyly in response. "Need a place ta keep the horses. Fed, watered an' warm."

"Oh, I've go' jus' the place," he replied with a kind smile. "I were jus' out 'ere makin' sure the other horses were tended ta. Mind me manners, me name's Angus McGuilicuty. I own this place. Well, I set it up more 'n forty year 'go when I come 'ere from Liverpool, bu' now I jus' 'elp 'roun'. Workin' the pub's better fer the young ones."

"Sounds like a packed 'ouse," Mandrel observed as he handed over the reins of his horse to Angus.

"Oh, 'tis tha's fer certain," Angus replied with a hearty laugh. "This time o' year always bring 'bou' the good in people."

"Well, we thank you for the information," Sywyn said as he reached into his coin satchel. "And for tending to the needs of the horses." He reached out with a handful of gold that made Angus smile, but the old man waved his hand.

"Keep it, lad," he said with a grin. "'Tis the season an' all."

"Very well," Sywyn merely replied with a kind smile and a nod. As the horses were tended to, the four elves made their way into the warmth of the pub. It was packed, as patrons shared in food, wine and song. Mostly in song, it would seem, as one of the men boisterously sang songs of old. The four removed their stetsons as they stomped the snow from their boots. As they did, they received a few waves from the patrons, an inviting greeting making the warmth grow even more. "Perhaps this wasn't such a bad idea after all, Shani," Sywyn said with a smile.

"'Course it weren't," Shani replied as she seemed to lead them toward a spare table. A waitress came quickly and placed four mugs of cider on the table and took their requests. The food was different than Sywyn and Mandrel were used to, but then they'd already had a taste of different during their time in Old Mexico. "Feels almost magic jist bein' here, don't it?"

"Aye, there's a feel fer the season indeed," Pania agreed. She took a swig of her cider, stopping only as she caught sight of a small child staring intently at the four. The elven bard smiled his way and offered a greeting. "'Ello there, wee one. Ye look as though somethin' caugh' ye eye."

The small boy nodded slowly, seemingly transfixed by Pania's features. Slowly, he pointed toward her ears. The pale elf offered a grin and leaned closer. "Easy ta 'xplain, lad. We're elves."

The explanation seemed to brighten the spirits of the child ever so and he beamed with glee. "You.. you mean... like.... like Santa Claus?"

Pania nodded slightly as she smiled, but Mandrel and Sywyn gave the pale elf a look of bewilderment. Shani quickly came to enlighten them both. "Fat man, rides in a sleigh, give toys ta kids 'round this time o' year. Elves work fer 'im." Mandrel blinked in disbelief, only able to stare at Shani after she gave her explanation. Sywyn only sighed deeply and shook his head as he took another swig of his cider. "What? Ya asked," she replied to their looks with a shrug.

Meanwhile, the small boy had become more bold, and he crept forward, surprising Pania as he climbed into her lap. "Will... will you tell Santa... that it'd be nice if he brought my ... mom someone to help her. She's so tired all the time." Pania's smile faded just a bit as the boy spilled out his words so quickly. And her heart fell with those words. She looked to Shani, then her brother Mandrel. And finally Sywyn.

"It'd 'ppear tha' we've b'come the models o' Christmas in this par'," she said with a solemn voice.

Death on the Bayou, Pt. 3

"Jeb, be a good boy an' fetch my cane if you would," Kingston said in a calm and cool voice that held the air of sophistication. "We are entertaining two fine ladies, so I must make certain my attire is appropriate." He smiled to the small black boy and waved him off to carry out his duty. Kingston fussed a bit in the mirror as one of his body guards stood by near the window. Kingston looked over to him somewhat curiously. "Is there any sign of the carriage?"

"Not yet, Sir," the body guard replied as he adjusted the cuffs on his jacket. Dressed in finery, the man looked more like one to be more at home on the range than working as a guard on a plantation. The hired gun looked back to the window as the small boy ran back in with Kingston's cane.

"Why thank you, Jeb," Kingston replied with an overly genuine smile. Why don't you go downstairs an' ask Miss Mabel for some corn bread, hmmm." The boy smiled and Kingston saw the question that seemed to hang in the boy's eyes. "An' yes, you may ask for some fine Swiss cheese to go with that." The boy ran off excitedly as Kingston waved him off yet again. "Make certain ta inform Marcus that we'll be lockin' the gates once the carriage arrives."

"Sir?" the gun hand inquired as he looked back to Kingston.

"This Miss Wennemein spent a great deal of money on that slave," Kingston said as he tucked the cane under one arm. "That means he is worth a great deal, and is someone to be added to the stable." The gun hand nodded and quickly stepped out of the room as Kingston slipped into his evening gloves.

"You must be careful, Mahstah Kingston," the deep, seductive voice of the black woman said from the shadows. Kingston turned to look in her direction as he arched an eyebrow.

"An' why would you say that, Lady Isabella?" he asked, punctuating the question with a thud of his cane on the hard wood floor.

"That woman was a gunslingah," Isabella commented. "She is powerful. Ah can feel it in me bones."

"Well," Kingston replied with a sly smile. "If that is the case, then we will most assuredly have to call upon your talents, my dear. For how many people in this world have ever had ta deal with the walkin' dead b'fore?"

*****

The carriage came to a slow stop at the front gates of the plantation. Ezekiel hopped off the back of the carriage and moved to the door, opening it with ease. Shani took her first steps out onto the pristine racked path that lead to the mansion that lay before them. She took in the area with a gunslinger's eye, taking note of the hiding spots that snipers could hold themselves up in. Once satisfied, she turned her attention back to the carriage and assisted Ezekiel as Pania climbed down to the ground. The elven bard moved slowly as she climbed down, making certain her dress didn't become snagged on the carriage at all.

"Well then," Pania said with a sigh as she looked around the grounds. "Fine lookin' place, isna it?"

"Fine 'nough," Shani replied as she once again turned her attention back to the grounds and tried to determine where attackers might lay. "If ya don't mind livin' in a bunker." The three began walking toward the front steps of the mansion, both elves taking in the beauty of the place. Shani, though, could not help but feel a sense of foreboding as they walked past the marble of the Roman columns. Then there was that tug on her arm.

She looked to her left and found Pania smiling as she stood beside the elven gunslinger, arm neatly tucked into Shani's. "Um... what're ya doin'?"

"A lady needs an escort, ye know," Pania replied with a grin.

"I'm fine," Shani stated with a nod. "Really, I don't need no escort." Pania furrowed her brow and let out a harumph. No time to argue, however, as Ezekiel approached the door and knocked loudly to announce their presence. Shani had her mind on other details. "Got a Colt slung on my side in a shoulder holster an' two short blades jist in case. You packin'?" she asked of Pania.

"I've go' one o' me pistols tucked 'way in a garter," Pania replied with a sly smile. "Wanna see?" she asked with a grin as she looked to Shani. Pania's arm was still tucked into the elven gunslingers, and Shani's only response was to roll her eyes and sigh. But any banter between the two would have to be put on hold. The massive double doors, made of only the finest oak no doubt, were being opened.

A rather sophisticated looking manservant bowed to the trio and quietly bid them enter. The lobby of the mansion was incredible. Two stair cases that hugged the wall while seeming to embrace the room with warmth. An elegant chandelier hung with care from the tall ceiling. Paintings were displayed, obviously announcing the former owners of this plantation, which gave a hint as to the long lineage that Kingston came from in the Americas.

The three stood in the lobby and marvelled at the sight. Pania gazed with wide eyed wonder, while Shani took a much more skeptical view of the place. Ezekiel too gazed about the room, but his eyes drifted back to a spot on the floor, making certain to keep himself unnoticed in his position behind the two elves.

"Well, well," announced the broad smiling voice of Jeremiah Kingston as he sauntered into the lobby. "What a sight indeed. Two fine lookin' ladies. Allow me ta introduce myself, I am Jeremiah Kingston, the Third," his smile seemed to grow as he held out his hand to each lady.

"Pania Alow, if ye please," the elven bard said as she took his hand and curtsied with a cow smile. Kingston seemed to chuckle as his eyes drifted across Pania's curvy form.

"I do b'lieve we've already met," Shani said as she removed her stetson, but shook Kingston's hand as a matter of formality.

"Yes indeed, we did," Kingston replied. His eyes fell on the figure of Ezekiel and his smile again grew just a bit more. "I am so pleased to see that you have brought your manservant with you. I believe that if we associate from such lower class people, perhaps they can become educated in the ways of higher society. I am all about equality, but a person needs ta know their place first b'fore they can ascend."

"In'erestin' philosophy," Shani said with a slight smirk. Gods he's such a racist bastard, she thought in almost the same breath.

"I do b'lieve we can discuss more o' this over dinner," he said as he held out a hand to usher the pair toward the dining room. As they walked, Pania wondered if the dining room was just as immaculate as the lobby of this rather palatial mansion.