Day Eight: Rum-Ram Bloodstold
Tired old man, tired old Bloodstold, in his throne of imitation leather and sipping a glass of tonic and lemon because he’s all out of gin. His runes are all cast, his deceitfully youthful body ached more and more as the nights when he can get a rise out of his magiks became increasingly few and depressingly mundane. Rum-Ram Bloodstold, the last of his kind in this world to not have given up and departed for the old soul’s dimension, took another sip of his tart drink and fondled thoughts of when the tarts he had at night weren’t just the liquid or pastry variety.
One more sip, Rum-Ram decided, one more sip and then a slip — into sober sleep.
~Tosche
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