Dragging our feet across the sand, I was convinced (as I'm sure the rest of the group were - though now I maybe doubt it a little) that we should head toward the horrible but beckoning sound of some Gwen Stefani track. And the flames.
We get about half way, and then decide to slow down, eventually grinding to a stop. But how will I know? Asks Ollie. I point to a string of fairy lights, and squint at them. Lights like spiraling tentacles are spiraling out like tentacles. 'That. is how you know.' I manage to spout.
A woman - or something that resembles one - cackles at us, waving a bucket of green liquid at us as we back away.
Ollie squints and nods. I believe we have and understanding.
Later that evening, we're huddling in the hotel room. I'm drawing the demon on the floor, and slurping Jameson straight from the bottle. There's a window, and perhaps there's something beyond it - a whale I think. it must be a sperm whale to have been able to squirm up the driveway. Someone makes a comment about the patterns in the ceramic, I think it's a complaint. but we're all startled by the knock on the door, where we meet a black guy with a french accent. He murmurs something about a cigarette, and we eventually find him one. He'd be lying face down in a pool of his own blood less than an hour later. None of us would figure out why, or the extent of his injuries.
All we knew was that this place - the sea palace. Haadrin. was evil. and we should hide. run inside, find our, selves and disappear.
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