The
air in the room lay deadly still, thick with the stench of a Grue in
confinement. I could make out just his faint profile in the darkness,
the
barest glint of his razor claws, the faintest gurgle of his fetid
breath. I took
a step closer, and was about to introduce myself, when suddenly the
gurgling
grew louder--and then a sort of gnashing of great teeth--and then a
sort of
gnashing of great feet--and lo!--the hulking bully drew a gleaming bone
from
his jaws, and tossed it to the floor with a grunt. It clattered at my
feet, and
as I looked down, I saw that it still bore a delicate silver bracelet,
wrapped
around what once was a slender arm.
At that moment,
I prayed to the Implementors
that of all my assignments as a journalist, this would be only my most
repugnant, or perhaps my most difficult -- but, please Yoruk, make it
not my
last.
| SOURCE(S): Zork: Nemesis |