Date: 2024-11-03 10:41 am (UTC)
newmemorywhodis: (Default)
Ilphyl is quick, and the rat doesn't stand a chance. It squeaks, loud...and then falls limp in the cat's jaw.

Something which does not not unnoticed by the new arrivals that have just appeared on the scene.

"Oh, that is utterly disgusting!" cries Lord Willoughby Wigglesworth Pinkerton the Third himself. He is wearing a truly horrendous amount of ruffles, and a hat that he clearly thinks is roguish and mysterious...but in reality looks more like an amateurish costume. He's accompanied by a dour looking man in spectacles, laden down with large journals and notebooks.

"What is that creature doing in here? Carrying around such...such foul remains! It's going to bleed all over my priceless Fifth Age Maikrechtian cabinet!" The Lord exclaims...as he apparently takes just as much offence to the cat as to the rat.

"I believe it's a cat, my lord," says the spectacled-man, with a long-suffering sigh.
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