"WHAT in Morrigan's name is this!" roared Walden
Macnair, as he strode into his office and saw the
items piled on his desk.
"New Wizengamot rules," wheezed Burton, the other
Committee executioner, who had just come back from
attempting to hack off the head of the vicious Chicken
of Bristol. (He'd missed; the chicken eluded justice
"I'm NAE wearing a mask and I'm NAE carrying this
ridiculous excuse for an axe!" Macnair continued. "I
want my victims to see me before they meet their fate,
and I doona need anything more than Ifrinn," he
gestured at the much smaller, yet just as lethal-appearing
axe dangling from his belt, "tae send
As he ranted on, he leered at Burton and
backed the smaller man up against his office wall. Macnair
didn't like visitors in his private domain. "And just who put this....shite on my desk, anyway?"
"Er...Mr. Malfoy did, sir," Burton replied timidly.
"He--he was just here...before I left."