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Celuien · 12-06-2005, 05:29 PM

The arches of Potted Ham Court Station stretched above as far as Panakeia's eye could follow them. Rût’s Lip Garden, a relatively small stop on the line, was nothing in comparison. People and orcs scurried about everywhere, searching for their destinations. Adding to the confusion was the fact that there were numerous shops in this station, mostly devoted to the sale of (what else?) potted hams and something called spam, which appeared to stand for synthetic potted ham. If the ingredients list on the back of the can was to be trusted. There were numerous cafés in the station as well, all seemingly devoted to the sale of those particular items. A menu in the window of one of the shops read:

Egg and spam, 50 maggots
Egg, bacon and spam, 75 maggots
Egg, bacon, sausage and spam, 1 troll
Spam, bacon, sausage, and spam, 1 troll, 25 maggots
Spam, egg, spam, spam, bacon, and spam, 1 troll, 50 maggots
Spam, sausage, spam, spam, bacon, spam, tomato and spam, 2 trolls

Panakeia wondered aloud, "Don't they have anything without spam?"

Willy interrupted her musings. "Come on, we've got to keep moving. Our train leaves from the other end of the station."

As they hurried off to find their train, a mob rushed up to the group, celebrating Willy's release from the train and asking for autographs. They stopped. Willy beamed, being sure to thank the trio for their support. Camera flashes came from all directions, blinding Panakeia with a blur of green and purple spots. A moment later, they were moving again, Panakeia's arm still in Payne's grasp. They were taking no chances of her making an escape attempt. In truth, there was no need to worry, at least for the moment. Panakeia was glad of their guidance through the station, the complexity of which would have left her completely lost on her own. But once they reached the train, she fully intended to try and lose her new travel mates. In the meantime, she allowed them to lead her to the train while she gazed around the station. Piles of blue cans, marked in yellow with the word spam in capital letters were stacked everywhere. Yet more spam dropped intermittently through tubes between the ceiling arches. Just as quickly as they fell to the ground, a crew of workers grabbed the cans and either stacked them against the wall, to be sold to local merchants, or packed them into boxes to be shipped to distant parts. Potted Ham Court Road was the heart of Mordor's vast spam industry, and there was certainly no shortage.

As Panakeia wound through the station, up stairs and down stairs, left and right, she noticed that, unlike in the rest of Mordor, the walking paths here were smooth and even. Not one crack or hole was to be found. Even this could be explained by spam; mixed with Mordor's other abundant commodity of gravel, ash, and some water, it made an excellent substitute for concrete. Thus, the roving work crews in Potted Ham Court Road were able to keep the walkways in excellent condition, although their constant presence while patching them greatly worsened the flow of foot traffic through the station.

The little band came to a halt within sight of the platform, which was strangely vacant. They stood at the back of a long line of pedestrians waiting to go on to the platform. Panakeia soon spotted the reason for the delay. One of the crews was at work ahead, fixing a rather large hole in the walkway. They left only enough room to pass them in single file. The work crew's flagger stood in the space holding a sign. "Stop."

The train rolled up. "All aboard! Northern line to Edge-Where. All aboard!"

The company struggled to push ahead. But they couldn't move an inch. The sign was still turned to oppose them. Willy shouted, "Let us through! We'll miss our train." The flagger merely cursed at him.

"All aboard, last call."

Suddenly, a rumbling, mingled with the sound of voices raised in song, came from behind. Four riders on horseback, clad in long robes and horned caps, rushed up, bearing filled boxes of spam for the Northern line.

"Spam, spam, spam, wonderful spam. Lovely spam," they chanted.

The leader blew a blast on his horn. The work crew moved aside. The sign was turned around. "Go." Everyone rushed forward to avoid being trampled by the spam delivery. The horses brushed past. Panakeia boarded the train, pulled ahead by Payne.

Still chanting their song, the riders piled their boxes onto the train. As the last box was loaded and the riders turned to depart, the train pulled out of the station, bound for Edge-Where

***

The passengers stood and cheered as Willy and the musicians entered the car. The stunt certainly did seem to have earned the respect of the BliddyUnnergrind's patrons. Panakeia chuckled to herself at the knowledge that they had all been taken in by the group's scam. I only wish I'd thought of it myself. Brilliant, simply brilliant. She again gave thanks for their company as five passengers rose to offer their seats to the heroes and their "lovely companion." Panakeia's feet ached terribly and she was exhausted by the trip. Sandwiched between Willy and Payne, she fell into an uneasy sleep.

Troubled dreams filled her mind. She was in a dark tunnel, her feet trapped in a soggy floor of melting spam. A troop of police-orcs, bent on arresting and dragging her off to the mines, were in hot pursuit. "Failure to report," they shouted. "Unpardonable." Just as they were about to reach her, Panakeia came to the end of the tunnel. The orcs vanished. She stood outside in the night air.

The charred timbers of a ruined house were ahead of her. A realization dawned on Panakeia. "I'm home." She hurried forward. The ghostly figure of a young woman moved in the crumbling wreck. She wore the tattered remains of a long white gown, shot through with green leaves. Her long, light brown hair fell in wisps to her waist. The apparition turned. Panakeia screamed. "It's me. Dead!" The spectral image of the young Panakeia beckoned, a sad, surprised look on her face, her lips moving as if she were about to speak.

Panakeia awoke with a start. She was still on the train. Dwaine looked at her. "You look like you seen a ghost."

Panakeia nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps I have." Then she shook off her mood. "No, it was just a bad dream."

The conductor entered the car. "Entish Town. Entish Town."

Payne grabbed her arm. "Come. This is our destination."

Panakeia hesitated. "Wait, can't you just let me keep going? You have my word that I won't reveal your secret."

"We don't have time for this. You are coming along." Payne sneered. "What good is your word? Panakeia's Cure-Alls. Reporter or not, you, my dear lady, are a charlatan. How can we trust you?"

Panakeia stood abashed. Her dream brought to mind her old ideals. Never join the family business? Look how that turned out. He's right. I'm nothing but a scammer. The very thing I once despised. She hung her head and followed Payne off of the train, lost in thought.

Up, up, up they went. At last, they returned to the street. Winding through traffic and pedestrians, they made their way to the RCA building. Panakeia noticed a PT Cruiser with flat tires at the side of the road. Its driver looked strangely familiar for an orc, but Panakeia couldn't quite place her.

The musicians proudly announced themselves to a guard. "The King's Own Trio, here for a recording session," cried Willy. The guard checked his list and opened the building's tall iron doors. They shut behind the group with a clang. And chaos greeted them.

Half-dressed dancers ran about screaming. There was frantic talk about some disaster on stage. "A Balrog, a balrog," they cried out in terror. "Brit sulking and the new girl gone. What will we do?"

Panakeia seized her opportunity. "Gentlemen, this is where I leave you. Best of luck." She raced off to where the commotion looked greatest and ran down a hallway looking for a back door. The corridor twisted back into the maze-like building. Rounding a corner, she was startled to see two familiar faces.

"Sai, Mardil! Fancy meeting you here. What a surprise." Both of them looked grim. What was going on?

12-06-2005, 05:29 PM	#49
Celuien Riveting Ribbiter Join Date: May 2005 Location: Assigned to Mordor Posts: 1,767	The arches of Potted Ham Court Station stretched above as far as Panakeia's eye could follow them. Rût’s Lip Garden, a relatively small stop on the line, was nothing in comparison. People and orcs scurried about everywhere, searching for their destinations. Adding to the confusion was the fact that there were numerous shops in this station, mostly devoted to the sale of (what else?) potted hams and something called spam, which appeared to stand for synthetic potted ham. If the ingredients list on the back of the can was to be trusted. There were numerous cafés in the station as well, all seemingly devoted to the sale of those particular items. A menu in the window of one of the shops read: Egg and spam, 50 maggots Egg, bacon and spam, 75 maggots Egg, bacon, sausage and spam, 1 troll Spam, bacon, sausage, and spam, 1 troll, 25 maggots Spam, egg, spam, spam, bacon, and spam, 1 troll, 50 maggots Spam, sausage, spam, spam, bacon, spam, tomato and spam, 2 trolls Panakeia wondered aloud, "Don't they have anything without spam?" Willy interrupted her musings. "Come on, we've got to keep moving. Our train leaves from the other end of the station." As they hurried off to find their train, a mob rushed up to the group, celebrating Willy's release from the train and asking for autographs. They stopped. Willy beamed, being sure to thank the trio for their support. Camera flashes came from all directions, blinding Panakeia with a blur of green and purple spots. A moment later, they were moving again, Panakeia's arm still in Payne's grasp. They were taking no chances of her making an escape attempt. In truth, there was no need to worry, at least for the moment. Panakeia was glad of their guidance through the station, the complexity of which would have left her completely lost on her own. But once they reached the train, she fully intended to try and lose her new travel mates. In the meantime, she allowed them to lead her to the train while she gazed around the station. Piles of blue cans, marked in yellow with the word spam in capital letters were stacked everywhere. Yet more spam dropped intermittently through tubes between the ceiling arches. Just as quickly as they fell to the ground, a crew of workers grabbed the cans and either stacked them against the wall, to be sold to local merchants, or packed them into boxes to be shipped to distant parts. Potted Ham Court Road was the heart of Mordor's vast spam industry, and there was certainly no shortage. As Panakeia wound through the station, up stairs and down stairs, left and right, she noticed that, unlike in the rest of Mordor, the walking paths here were smooth and even. Not one crack or hole was to be found. Even this could be explained by spam; mixed with Mordor's other abundant commodity of gravel, ash, and some water, it made an excellent substitute for concrete. Thus, the roving work crews in Potted Ham Court Road were able to keep the walkways in excellent condition, although their constant presence while patching them greatly worsened the flow of foot traffic through the station. The little band came to a halt within sight of the platform, which was strangely vacant. They stood at the back of a long line of pedestrians waiting to go on to the platform. Panakeia soon spotted the reason for the delay. One of the crews was at work ahead, fixing a rather large hole in the walkway. They left only enough room to pass them in single file. The work crew's flagger stood in the space holding a sign. "Stop." The train rolled up. "All aboard! Northern line to Edge-Where. All aboard!" The company struggled to push ahead. But they couldn't move an inch. The sign was still turned to oppose them. Willy shouted, "Let us through! We'll miss our train." The flagger merely cursed at him. "All aboard, last call." Suddenly, a rumbling, mingled with the sound of voices raised in song, came from behind. Four riders on horseback, clad in long robes and horned caps, rushed up, bearing filled boxes of spam for the Northern line. "Spam, spam, spam, wonderful spam. Lovely spam," they chanted. The leader blew a blast on his horn. The work crew moved aside. The sign was turned around. "Go." Everyone rushed forward to avoid being trampled by the spam delivery. The horses brushed past. Panakeia boarded the train, pulled ahead by Payne. Still chanting their song, the riders piled their boxes onto the train. As the last box was loaded and the riders turned to depart, the train pulled out of the station, bound for Edge-Where *** The passengers stood and cheered as Willy and the musicians entered the car. The stunt certainly did seem to have earned the respect of the BliddyUnnergrind's patrons. Panakeia chuckled to herself at the knowledge that they had all been taken in by the group's scam. I only wish I'd thought of it myself. Brilliant, simply brilliant. She again gave thanks for their company as five passengers rose to offer their seats to the heroes and their "lovely companion." Panakeia's feet ached terribly and she was exhausted by the trip. Sandwiched between Willy and Payne, she fell into an uneasy sleep. Troubled dreams filled her mind. She was in a dark tunnel, her feet trapped in a soggy floor of melting spam. A troop of police-orcs, bent on arresting and dragging her off to the mines, were in hot pursuit. "Failure to report," they shouted. "Unpardonable." Just as they were about to reach her, Panakeia came to the end of the tunnel. The orcs vanished. She stood outside in the night air. The charred timbers of a ruined house were ahead of her. A realization dawned on Panakeia. "I'm home." She hurried forward. The ghostly figure of a young woman moved in the crumbling wreck. She wore the tattered remains of a long white gown, shot through with green leaves. Her long, light brown hair fell in wisps to her waist. The apparition turned. Panakeia screamed. "It's me. Dead!" The spectral image of the young Panakeia beckoned, a sad, surprised look on her face, her lips moving as if she were about to speak. Panakeia awoke with a start. She was still on the train. Dwaine looked at her. "You look like you seen a ghost." Panakeia nodded thoughtfully. "Perhaps I have." Then she shook off her mood. "No, it was just a bad dream." The conductor entered the car. "Entish Town. Entish Town." Payne grabbed her arm. "Come. This is our destination." Panakeia hesitated. "Wait, can't you just let me keep going? You have my word that I won't reveal your secret." "We don't have time for this. You are coming along." Payne sneered. "What good is your word? Panakeia's Cure-Alls. Reporter or not, you, my dear lady, are a charlatan. How can we trust you?" Panakeia stood abashed. Her dream brought to mind her old ideals. Never join the family business? Look how that turned out. He's right. I'm nothing but a scammer. The very thing I once despised. She hung her head and followed Payne off of the train, lost in thought. Up, up, up they went. At last, they returned to the street. Winding through traffic and pedestrians, they made their way to the RCA building. Panakeia noticed a PT Cruiser with flat tires at the side of the road. Its driver looked strangely familiar for an orc, but Panakeia couldn't quite place her. The musicians proudly announced themselves to a guard. "The King's Own Trio, here for a recording session," cried Willy. The guard checked his list and opened the building's tall iron doors. They shut behind the group with a clang. And chaos greeted them. Half-dressed dancers ran about screaming. There was frantic talk about some disaster on stage. "A Balrog, a balrog," they cried out in terror. "Brit sulking and the new girl gone. What will we do?" Panakeia seized her opportunity. "Gentlemen, this is where I leave you. Best of luck." She raced off to where the commotion looked greatest and ran down a hallway looking for a back door. The corridor twisted back into the maze-like building. Rounding a corner, she was startled to see two familiar faces. "Sai, Mardil! Fancy meeting you here. What a surprise." Both of them looked grim. What was going on? Last edited by Celuien; 12-06-2005 at 07:10 PM.