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Old 01-24-2006, 03:35 PM   #201
the guy who be short
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Night fell. Usually, Fléin would spend the dying hours of the day to write in his diary. Today, he could not concentrate for thoughts of A Slan. What was this locationless, dateless thing? It was moving, that much he knew. It was moving. And the world was stirring because of it.

Darkness blanketed the little village, and still Fléin could not rest his mind. His thoughts mulled over the dryad and beaver again and again. Beavers, he should say - he had tried to chase up the one he has accidentally slain, but it seemed to bear a grudge against him. Furthermore - and this was strange - it now followed the Anakronist wherever he went. The other beaver had been afraid of Anakron - and both of them, along with the dryad, were working together, he knew, sent by the same person. Anakron had done something to that beaver. The others laughed at the little rodent tailing him, but only Alli and Fléin shared dark glances.

The Dwarf made up his mind. Casting off the bedcovers, he wrapped himself in the warmest cloak possible and departed his hut. Though his vision was impaired, he whistled and shreiked in the tongue of the nightbirds, and they aided him until he had grown accustomed to the dark. He dared not risk a torch.

Something was wrong. He felt it. In a few minutes, he knew the clearing would emerge - but would there be anything of significance there? He stepped forward.

The clearing was gone.

The Dwarf mused. Gone was not, perhaps, the best word. It had been... cleared. Apparently by a nuclear bomb. The ground was scorched and black. The stream was dry. Nothing stirred, and not even the night creatures made any noise. Silence reigned supreme, silence and expectation. Fléin stepped forward.

The bareness of the land immediately worried him. But he consoled himself. While the destruction of the countryside was certainly Anakron's doing, he could not be here now. Even he needed sleep.

Fléin's stump was gone, blasted into oblivion. He had nowhere to sit, and stood around, lost. He had come here on impulse, not knowing what to find. The new landscape left him with a sense of dread and no enlightenment.

Several minutes passed in the silence.

Fléin turned to leave. He started moving off into the woods and eventually back to the village. Just then, a voice called out.

"Fléin son of Fréin?" it rumbled. It was low, harsh and gutteral, and somehow had an implacably odd character to it. It was perhaps too low - that was it, that was why it was odd.

Fléin turned. "Who is there?" he called into the denser treeline opposite to the direction the village lay in, whence he judged the voice to have come.

"I was bid to find Fléin Fréinson. Are you he?" Again, a gutteral quality to the voice that Fléin could not place.

"I am. Reveal yourself."

"Let go of your axe, Master Dwarf," was the only reply. Fléin only gripped all the tighter as a darkness detached itself from the general shadow and moved forwards. As it move, Fléin judged it to be the size of a small bear - and it moved on all fours.

It moved into the clearing, opposite Fléin, offering him a clear view, as far as he could see in the dark. It did indeed appear to be a bear - but with a most curious patchwork coat, like a Frisian cow. Fléin frowned.

"Who are you? Why do you seek me?"

"I am Pánða. I come to tell you A Slan-"

"-Is on the move. Yes, I know. But what is A Slan? Who is he?"

The bear appeared to think. "He is," he replied simply.

"That's Tom Bombadil!"

The bear did not reply.

"Why were you bid seek me in particular? There are many people in Mordor."

"You are one of the Naugrim. You have a choice: to join A Slan, or to stand against him."

Fléin frowned. "But I don't know anything about A Slan!"

"The world is changing, Master Dwarf. A Slan is on the move. And with him, the world shifts, the balance of the old order falls. You would do well to join A Slan."

The Dwarf was getting more and more confused. "Why do you not approach anybody else in Mordor?"

"They are sons of Adam and daughters of Eve. They are not involved in the conflicts of Nurnia. But you, Master Naugrim, are graced with that choice."

"Who is A Slan? What does he fight for? What forces does he have? Who are his enemies? What has this to do with Nurnia? Why do you not involve Men?"

Once more, the bear paused. "Well, you see, that's a toughie. You're really asking six questions there. I have told you about A Slan. He fights for justice, trust, peace. His forces are magnificant, and composed of all the good creatures in Nurnia. His enemies are the Fallen. Nurnia is A Slan's land. Men are not native to Nurnia."

The bear stopped, and Fléin tried vainly to absorb all of this. But the bear continued regardless.

"Though Men are becoming involved... You have heard of the wars in Mordor?"

"Wars? Yes, but the parents and teenagers struck a truce fifteen years ago. Though there are the incarnations of Depp."

"The parent-teen truce has come to an end. Those who were teens are now parents. The tide shifts. And yes, the good Depps are battling with us. The parents have pledged their support. There are a myriad other conflicts, of course. And some even say war is spilling into Gondor..."

"Impossible!" the Dwarf cried. "War has been sent to Mordor!"

"The eyes of A Slan do not lie. Men have been massing, preparing for war Without. Perhaps by this, the Dweomer may be broken."

Fléin started phrasing a question, but the bear turned its back on him and shuffled off. "Wait! I need to ask you-"

But it had reached the treeline. It turned its head back, and called "Go back to your hut, son of the Earth. Already we have spoken too long. Anakron will awake."

Last edited by the guy who be short; 01-31-2006 at 03:38 PM.
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Old 01-24-2006, 03:47 PM   #202
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Aimé danced around blithely, roaming through the gloaming of Dol Gaurgauroth. He was feeling far chirpier now: after all, he was leaving this miserable place tomorrow. He spied a centipede on the ground and did a little jig around it, calling out 'Hey! Hey! Mister Centipede! Won't you dance with me?' Yes, Aimé was in a very silly mood.

He spotted a mouse hiding behind a tree and, jumping out in front of the poor thing, scared it off into the gloom, all the while shouting 'Come back! Come back, Mister Mouse! Won't you dance with me?' Yes, children, he really was being very silly indeed.

Then something made Aimé jump: a flash of red in the thicket. What could that be, he thought. Centipede, mouse, if the pattern continued, it must be something like....a fox! Yes, that would do. For the time being, Aimé quite forgot that foxes belonged in the Shire and not Mordor; he was just so used to dancing with foxes, you see. Aimé cackled, delighted with this horrendous joke he had just made.

But he stopped and held his breath. He heard a voice, and a humanistic voice at that. What could it be, he thought. As he ventured toward the source of the vocals, he felt a growing unease within him. Snapping out of his silly mood completely, he tip-toed up to the thicket, and peered between the trees. Then, he gasped in consternation.

-------------------------------------

Stealing through the trees with a majestic and highly dangerous speed, Aimé made his way back to the village. Frantically, and looking totally bewildered, he practically crashed right into a group of villagers. "Alli!" he spluttered.

They just stared at him as if they'd never seen him before. After a few seconds (though it seemed like all eternity to Aimé) Sai spoke to him: "Alli was just around that corner a few minutes ago. Aimé, dear, are you alright?"

Too flustered to address her properly, all Aimé could do was shout back "No! I...er...what it is...maybe...another time!" And as soon as he said it he realised how uncultured he must have appeared but he just had to grimace and get on with the task at hand. He sped round the corner, and came face to face with Alli and Wilhelmina, one of whom suddenly looked quite fearful, the other of whom just looked weirded out.

"Alli" Aimé said, between glances at Wilhelmina. "Alli, it's....it's....I love you." The young lady looked astonished for the tiniest instant, and then it dawned on her.

Again, though it seemed like forever to Aimé, Alli had actually been very professional. She quickly broke into a smile, and said "I love you too, Aimé!" She took Aimé's hand which caused him to get slightly lost in the moment, until he finally regained control of his faculties and hurriedly led her towards the trees, that mysterious gloaming, straight past a fair number of the villagers.

Wilhelmina ambled over and joined the group, laughed, and muttered something about youngsters.
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Old 01-24-2006, 04:35 PM   #203
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Alli walked as swiftly as she could beside Aimè, trying to look as guilty as possible. The villagers mustn't know... they would panic. They must believe...

"I love you, Aimè." she cooed sickeningly, making it obvious that she did not want to be overheard. Villagers left and right rolled their eyes, snickering as the pair disappeared through the shadowed trees.

"Where?" Alli mouthed, careful to keep her words private. They were now far out of sight and sound of the villagers. He pointed to some bushes. She nodded and reached into her bag, pulling a small firearm from it. Aimè pulled his sword from beneath his cloak.

Suddenly raucus laughter burst forth from the trees, surrounding them like a swarm of Italian-sounding locusts. Alli crept through the strewn leaves and pine needles, crouched low and moving silently, her hand gun cocked and ready. Aimè held his sword dangerously, ready to strike. He circled the bushes from the far right.

Alli's scream broke the air when she was still a dozen yards from the shrubbery. Aimè's concentration broke and he ran to her. She lay spasming on the ground screaming, deaf to his words. He searched her for injury and found nothing. Finally a snake, long and perfectly harmless, slithered terrified from beneath her, undulating as far away as possible in as short a time as it would take a race car on steroids to travel around a two foot track. She had crept over top of it unwittingly and it had wrapped itself around her arm in retribution. Terrified of serpents, Alli had been able to do nothing but scream helplessly. She now laying sobbing, trying to breathe and not much accomplishing it.

Aimè gathered her into his arms and held her until she stopped shaking (which took an admittedly long time). Their opportunity had been lost. The flash of red and sound of Italian had disappeared into the forest by the time they were able to explore the area. They had lost Mario... they had lost such a perfect chance...

Now Alli leaned against a tree, hands braced on her knees. She could finally breathe, but she was ashamed of herself. The snake had been more afraid of her than she was of it, much though she wanted to deny it. She had lost them... everything.

"Not everything." came a Voice. Aimè jumped and looked around.

"It's just Illamatar." said Alli dejectedly. "He talks to me a lot. You know that. He's the one who told me that I'm a Seer. He's the one who gives me my dreams. He told me that you were innocent and that Mario was not. He told me... everything."

Aimè searched the air for a diety to bow to respectfully and failed.

"He'll not appear..."

"Too true." the Voice replied. "Alli, you mustn't feel sorry for yourself. Wallowing in self-pity is a bad excuse for action. You screwed up. Admit it and then go fix it. There will be time yet to kill Mario. In the mean time, revel in Sai's victory."

"Sai's victory?" Aimè muttered to Alli, confused.

"Yes." she answered. "She doesn't know it though. Illamatar told me. She made J.Lo. harmless. The diva had managed to contain the power of the full moon within... her posterior. Sai stole it from her for that Task. With the full moon gone... J.Lo. was rendered Ordinary."

"You mean... but you didn't tell me that J.Lo... I thought... Mario..."

"There are three, Aimè. Three. Now there are two. We'd have narrowed it to one... if only I hadn't--"

"Alli!" Illamatar warned.

"Come off it, Eru, you know perfectly well that I'm right. I screwed up. We could have... but now we can't... and you still haven't said who the third is."

"I'm not telling you everything. You must figure it out on your own. There is still time." With no change of scenery, the allies could tell that their Creator had left them. Well, not left them... but had left the area, if you take my meaning.

Aimè put his arm comfortingly around Alli's shoulder as they began to walk slowly back. "We'll find him. We'll learn the last one. We can do this."

"Yes... yes, we can." Alli sounded slightly less certain than she'd meant to. Aimè wasn't confident enough to reprimand her.
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Old 01-24-2006, 09:01 PM   #204
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The Fifth Test described

For some reason that escaped the understanding of the Offending Party, SpaM, Mormegil, Nilpy, CoD, the fangirls, and everybody else from Dol Gaurgauroth had gotten on the flight. Worse yet, it seemed that Orlando Bloom and J.Lo had caught up to them as well.

"Why are all these people here?" asked Panakeia.

"The Dweomer is at work. Sometimes it's not worth the effort to limit it. How would they say it in the future time? Ah yes: 'deal with it'. Such a world of meaning in three little words. Priceless."

"Where's Elempí?" asked Panakeia.

Anakron thumped his chest. "We are again one, more's the pity. Now then! Regarding the fifth and final test! There are three parts to this test, and therefore you might (if you're lucky) receive ten points three times. The first part is that you will take a week-long course in an area that has been determined to be of value to you. The second is that you will have a physical to ensure that nothing from Mordor enters the rest of Middle Earth that should not; and you will undergo any surgeries deemed necessary to achieve that end. Thirdly, you will undergo a psychological evaluation to ensure that you will function in a seemly fashion on the outside.

"Should you pass all of these tests with a sufficient number of points, you will be allowed to leave Mordor.

"One thing of special note. The University of Mordor registrar's office is notorious for suddenly cancelling courses and reassigning students to the next best course. Report to the registrar's office to find out what you'll be taking, then to the Hospital to find out when you will take your physical, then to the Psych Ward - um - I mean, Department, to get your appointment time for your psych eval. Any questions?"
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Old 01-25-2006, 12:43 AM   #205
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Doctor... Who?

“A Hospital? In Mordor?” exclaimed the rather unnerved Hookbill as he was dragged into the University hospital by the ears, “I don’t know anything about Orc anatomy. Or any anatomy for that matter!” He was cast upon a table and three Orcs sneered at him with eyes like green flame and faces like they had been burned by it.

“Look here,” sneered one of them, “You’re going to work here. So shut up about it. Doctor Hookbill.” He laughed and pushed the helpless Goomba onto the floor with a thud. “Here, you’ll need this.” Sneered the Orc as he cast a white coat at him, “Hope you have more luck than it’s previous owner.”

The Orcs left and many other University doctors looked at him for a second almost ready to snigger. To avoid their gaze, Hookbill inspected the white coat. It was covered in blood. He hadn’t been surprised. With a sigh he sat in a near by chair and held his head in his hands, sobbing quietly. Another Doctor rushed past and tripped over Hookbill’s foot, he swore and then looked up at the sobbing figure and swore again.
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Old 01-25-2006, 10:03 AM   #206
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When the Offending Party, reality show crew, and various hangers on had arrived at Urukapolis, Anakron gave them their marching orders.

"Report first to the first floor of Cirith Ungol, where you will meet Dr. Hookbill, who will schedule your physical. From there, proceed to The Shelob's Lair College of Psychology where you will meet Dr. Sigmund, who will schedule you for your psychological evaluation. Third, go to the registrar's office, located in the first floor of Minas Morgul, where you will be told which classes you will take. Finally, report to Poisoned Vale where you will be assigned a dormitory room. Classes begin at dawn. Be on time. You are dismissed."
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Old 01-25-2006, 12:56 PM   #207
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After Anakron had finished rattling off the list of things they would have to get through to pass the next task he stalked off, leaving the Offending Party to work out what to do. Sai was just wondering what exactly had been meant by 'surgery' when a voice behind her cried out,

"Youngest first!"

And she was shoved unceremoniously into an elevator. She turned and tried to get out before the doors closed, but they were already half shut and her phobia of getting trapped between them forced her backwards. She watched in trepidation as the numbers flashed before her eyes - 1 . . . 2 . . . 3 . . . wait! She was supposed to be on the first floor not the third. Jabbing at the buttons she barely noticed the doors open, and only looked up as an overly large man got into the lift with her. Sai briefly considered the possibility that his weight would cause the lift to fall anyway, but quickly berated herself for such a thought and moved back as he hit the button for the next floor down.

Through some cruel law, the lift went straight down to the first floor rather than stop off at the second, and by the time Sai got out she felt completely squashed. Still, she was at least where she was supposed to be, and soon saw a door with Dr. Hookill written on the glass pane. She only had a few seconds to read it though, as it was suddenly shattered by a flying . . . something. Ducking to avoid the glass Sai bent and looked at the object that had narrowly missed her head. Just as she was wondering why this doctor would have a Jack Russell in his office and why he would have thrown it through the window, a little man flung open the door.

"Who are you!" He barked, before bursting into tears.

"I, um, I'm Sai, Sai Onara. Anakron sent me up here to . . ."

"Well Sai Sai Onara." Came a voice through the sobs. "Get in here so I can diagnose you and leave this dreadful place."

Hoping doing as he asked would stop him crying, Sai didn't even bother to correct him about her name, but simply picked up the dog and scurried inside. He motioned her to a chair, so she sat down and awaited his prognosis.
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Old 01-25-2006, 01:32 PM   #208
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Sai Onara sat down in front of Hookbill's desk as he frantically looked at the bookshelves. He twitched nervously and mumbled to himself incoherently, there as some Elvish thrown in there, incorrectly, as Sai noted. Hookbill took down a large volume that was covered in dust, the binding seemed to have been repaired several times, unsuccessfully. Hookbill blew some of dust off and looked at the title, "Medical Textbook".

"Ah!" said the little man, "This may help." he opened it up to reveal hollowed out pages holding a small bottle of whiskey. Hookbill groaned. He hated alcohol and it wasn't going to help his situation. He slammed it shut and placed it on the table before picking up a clipboard. Clearing his throat several times, Hookbill succeeded only in creating the impression that he had a cold.

"Do you..." began Hookbill plucking questions out of thin air, "Do you have any diseases?"

"I was rather hoping you could tell me that," said Sai with a smirk, "doctor."

"Well quite," the little man adjusted his collar; "of course." he wrote some things on his clipboard. "Read this." he said holding it up.

"'I need a cup of tea.'"

"You do?" cried Hookbill, "me too, lets leave this terrible place!" He rose and tried to scuttle away.

"Doctor?" Sai said, "what about my health?"

"Oh that..." he scratched his head, "erm, let me see." he took a magnifying glass from his coat pocket, wiped the blood off it and examined Sai's eyes. "Well, I sorry to say this," began Hookbill before something bit him on the leg. It was a crab that had been living under the bookcase.

"What is it, Doctor?" pressed Sai.

"I'm afraid its Gandalf's syndrome." he said, picking a name at random. Sai looked puzzled. "It’s a mysterious condition, but I've caught it in the early stages. Tell me have you had the uncontrollable urge to uncloak." Sai shook her head, "good, its not too far gone. Although, it will require surgery."

"What kind?" asked Sai, getting a little nervous.

"Oh nothing major," said Hookbill lifting a saw from a cabinet draw, "just the removal of the... erm... the," he paused, "the euphonium?"

"Isn't that a musical instrument?"

"No," coughed Hookbill, "It's a very important... liver... like... thing." Sai wasn't convinced. "I need to check the doctor's manual." said Hookbill hiding under the desk. Sai heard sounds of gulping and a lid being screwed. The little man rose again looked wide-eyed. "Right, lets get you down to theatre!" he began to leave, letting her lead the way, "Ah, I'll just get the manual." he said.

As he tried to leave, the intercom beeped at him. "Your next patient is here, Doctor." but before Hookbill could ask how there was an intercom in Middle Earth, a nurse pushed him back into the room and told him to wait before doing any operations.

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Old 01-25-2006, 02:59 PM   #209
the guy who be short
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When Sai finally emerged, looking rather shaken, she found the rest of the Party had gathered around the Doctor's door. They watched as she walked off, shaken and pale, and apparently without the doctor, who had been shoved back into his room to accept - Fléin.

Dear Mahal, what was this imbecile going to do? Was the first thought to flitter through Fléin's thubconscious. The man's coat was stained with what looked disturbingly like blood. Though this pseudo-Psychoesque appearance would usually strike fear into normal people, the pathetic look on the man's face nullified the effect completely.

Fléin sat down in a chair and sighed.

"Let's get this over with, then," Doctor Hookbill suggested. "I've never, ah, studied a Dwarf before, but I'm sure it's much the same as with humans, eh?"

Fléin sighed again, louder. "I'm a Dwarf, Doctor. Of course I'm not the same as a human. Otherwise I'd be classified as a short person. A guy who be short, if you will."

"Oh." Hookbill's face fell. "Well... there must be something wrong with you."

"I'm a Dwarf. We do not develop disease. Everybody knows this." Fléin voiced the obvious immediately before realising that this wasn't quite true in Mordor.

Hookbill eyed him suspiciously.
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Old 01-25-2006, 03:18 PM   #210
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Hookbill looked from side to side, trying to avoid the gaze of the Dwarf. Yet his eyes were like two colossal black holes sucking all points in the room towards them, meaning that no matter where he looked, he was always pulled back to the dwarf. He shifted his weight uncomfortably. "I’m not too good with dwarves, let me check the textbook." he lifted the large volume suspiciously close to his face and then swiftly slammed it shut.

Hookbill shook his head and then took out the magnifying glass. "Now, lets have a look at that..." he paused, "cat?"

"Its a beard, you dribbling idiot!" cried Fléin, "now get on with it!"

"Beard," echoed Hookbill, "I must write that down. So, how long have you had this... 'beard'."

"..." Said Fléin.

"That long, eh?" Hookbill took another 'read' of the textbook, "well, it seems to me that you may have a condition we doctors call, Gimli's chin." Fléin cocked his head and studied the sweating face of Hookbill who was suspiciously writing things down on his clipboard. He muttered something about 7 across.

"Look, Doctor," began Fléin but Hookbill fell over. Stumbling to his feet, the little man took refuge behind a small wastepaper basket and began sobbing gently. "I'm sorry," continued Fléin, "I didn't mean to startle you." Hookbill rose and came to his desk.

"Now, I must just take a listen," Hookbill said as he picked up a stethoscope, "I think this works," he held one end to the dwarf's head and listened.

"This is ridiculous." said Fléin.

"Ah ha!" cried Hookbill, "I know exactly what the problem is!" the dwarf waited patiently, "talking brain syndrome!" Hookbill mentally patted himself on the back. That sounded good enough. It would have convinced him. Fléin raised an eyebrow as Hookbill nervously wrote something on his paper and then looked up. He smiled weakly and then continued, "This will require some surgery."

"You're not serious?" said Fléin standing up.

"Oh I wish I was." Hookbill lead the dwarf to the door and opened it, "the operating theatre is around here somewhere. Go and find it, there’s a good chap!" Fléin gladly left the office and Hookbill dashed to the window and tried to open it.

Last edited by Hookbill the Goomba; 01-26-2006 at 08:22 AM.
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Old 01-25-2006, 05:24 PM   #211
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Panakeia followed the Offending Party into Cirith Ungol with no little trepidation in her heart. Physicals and psychological testing. She uneasily thought of the voice that now chattered away in her head. How would she ever manage to pass the tests?

Oh stop it. Everyone has a nagging conscience at some point. Nothing at all to worry about.

I hope so.
Nilp's strange case was not forgotten.

The Party, minus Sai, now came up to Dr. Hookbill's door. Muffled voices came from inside the office. Panakeia tried to make conversation. "I guess Sai's already in there. Think we'll have a long wait out here?" No one responded.

Panakeia sat down. An uncomfortable lump in her back pocket caused her to shift position. "What's in here?" she murmured, and drew out a clump of sandy hair. She had nearly forgotten about the toupee.

Shame on you, stealing that poor man's hair. You really ought to do something about it.

Alright, alright.
She tapped Alli on the shoulder. "Do you have any paper? And a pen?"

"Whatever for?"

"There's something I have to take care of," Panakeia replied.

Alli produced the requested items, and Panakeia began to write.

Quote:
Dear Captain,

I'm sure you will remember me. I was the one who stole your head covering in Lost Angles. Please forgive me. I can offer no excuse for my actions, other than to say that I was motivated by need. Try to understand; I have been given a chance to leave Mordor. But to do so, I had to produce an item, the item most valued by a celebrity. And I chose the celebrity I admired most. You.
Liar. You'd never even heard of him until you found that guide.

Be quiet. Nothing wrong with a little flattery.
She returned to writing.
Quote:
But I behaved abominably. And I can't live with myself knowing that I've stolen from you. Even though I would be honored to keep a souvenir of our brief acquaintance, and even though I still have not completed the task which drove me to my unpardonable actions, I must return your property. Your item is enclosed, along with the Super Hair Stimulating Shampoo I promised in my original note. Dr. McBones was correct. It isn't likely to do much for you - it's just a bit of egg white and mayonnaise - but maybe you can put it on a salad and learn to think a little less badly of your friend:

Panakeia of Harad
Note completed and boxed with the promised objects, she stopped a passing nurse. "Excuse me. Where can I send a package?"

"You might try the mailroom by the Emergency Department. Follow the red line on the floor." Panakeia thanked her, and telling the rest of the Party that she would be right back, went to send her package.

The Emergency Department was in chaos. But not from patients. Indeed, the department was deserted. Most of the disorder resulted from stacks of unfinished paperwork. As Panakeia watched, a troop of Orcs came from behind a door marked "Records Room," a metal cart buried by a stack of voluminous charts in tow. They approached a doctor in a white coat. Spotting them coming in his direction, he turned ashen pale and turned to flee. Not quickly enough. The Orc in lead caught him by the arm.

The Orc clicked his tongue. "Just where do you think you're going? We have these charts for you to look at. They are deficient. Just look." The Orc picked up a chart and thumbed through it, pointing out various problems as he went along. "See? Each of these forms has to be filled out in quintuplicate. Yellow copy to the lab, white to the chart, pink as a spare copy, orange to the patient, and red, well I'm not quite sure what we do with the red, but it is procedure, after all. You didn't press hard enough to mark all of the pages. And these billing codes. Haven't you heard about the updates? You can't just mark off laceration. No, the section has been expanded. Now you can and must code for 25 different types of bandage and 50 different cleaning procedures (with and without soap, water, betadine, you see the idea). Oh, and that reminds me. Laceration is no longer a diagnosis. It's now a procedure, which means that the old diagnosis code is now superceded by the procedures coding section. So all of these codes that you checked off are now invalid. And you're coming off to do a chart review with us to fix all these problems." The Orc's face lit up. "Just think! At least a week in our records room. And what a time we'll have." The Orc started to lead the group away. "I'll tell you all about the latest coding revisions. Have you heard, for instance, about the the new numbering system? 8 digits to each code instead of 6, 9 is 1 and 2 is 5..." As the Orc chattered on and the doctor looked at him helplessly, they disappeared into the records room.

Panakeia shook her head and walked into the mailroom to send her package. Then she rejoined the Offending Party, a smile on her face. Even if she accomplished nothing else on the rest of her journey, she had at least corrected one of her mistakes.

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Old 01-26-2006, 12:03 PM   #212
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"This blasted thing!" cried Hookbill as the window refused to open, "I wan't to leave! Can't you get that into your head? Of course not, you don't have one." he hit his head against the glass and there was a 'click' sound. He looked to see that the latch on the window had come unhooked. He wiped his brow and looked at the door. There was a little commotion, but no one in the party seemed to want to go into the office. 'Fine by me' thought Hookbill.

He opened the window. He looked around the room once again and nearly fell over when the inter-com buzzed. It was hidden somewhere under the piles of paper on the desk. Swiftly, Hookbill raced over and threw most of the paper on the floor to find a small black round ball. It was perfectly smooth and no bigger than a cricket ball, yet there appeared to be writing on the bottom, 'Mini Palantir, good for short distance communication. Noldor products LTD'.

"I'll send in the next patient, Doctor," said a voice from the Palantir.

"No!" cried Hookbill, "I don't want any more patients! I just want to leave!" he dashed to the window and opened it, just as the office door itself opened. Hookbill gulped and hoped the person entering would not see him. Perhaps if he willed himself to be invisible, he'd not be seen. It didn't work.
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Old 01-26-2006, 01:34 PM   #213
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Fléin left the group and wandered down the central corridor, vaguely pursuing the operating theatre. Halfway down, he came across Sai, who was just standing around, it seemed.

"Hail," he said, walking up to her. "Are you for the operating theatre too?"

She nodded, licked her lips, and replied in a quiet voice, "I think there's been a mistake."

The Dwarf nodded. "I know. That doctor was the most incompetent shaman I've ever had the displeasure of-"

"That's not what I meant," she cut him off. She nodded her head towards a door on her left, indicating that Fléin should investigate himself. It had "Operating Theatre" written on it.

Fléin grasped the dorr handle, gave it a flick of the wrist, and nudged it open not more than a few degrees. Inside was total blackness - but it was the ears that were accosted, not the eyes.

"Romeo! Romeo Whyfore be-est thou Romeo? Renounce-thee your father and renounce thee thine name!"

He shut the door and winced at her. The terrible Jamesian English was simply too ugly to put into words. The pseudo-Italian accent was cringeworthy. But to the operating theatre they had been sent, and to the operating theatre they had to go.

Turning the handle once again, Fléin and Sai braved the poor performance.
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Old 01-26-2006, 10:47 PM   #214
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Wilhelmina peered around the door and beheld a small man in a bloodstained white coat about to jump out the window. Or perhaps he wasn't about to jump out the window, as he was standing very, very still.

"Good afternoon, Doctor Hookbill," she said as pleasantly as she could. A look of intense grief crossed the man's face.

"I can't see what's so good about it," he said, pulling an equally bloodstained handkerchief from the pocket of the coat and wiping his shining face with it. "I've just been considering jumping through that window there, as invisibility doesn't appear to be an option."

"Why in the world would you want to jump through a window?" Wilhelmina asked, joining him at the sill and looking down to see the five hundred foot drop. "Especially this one!"

"Oh, I'll do anything to get out of here! The orcs forced me to work here, and I can't stand it! I don't know a thing about Mordorian diseases," he fretted, putting a foot up on the sill.

"Now you wait one minute!" She gave him a smart whack on that foot with her walking stick; he immediately withdrew it. "Young man, you've got too much of your life ahead of you to go jumping out of windows because you're having one bad day in Mordor. What do you think Mordor is all about? You're going to have to grow a tougher skin, Doctor." She closed the window, directed him to his seat, and then sat down across from him.

"See, I'm an old woman. I'm sure there are plenty of things wrong with me, so it shouldn't be hard for you to identify at least one. Don't you worry about a thing."
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Old 01-27-2006, 12:46 AM   #215
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Hookbill scratched his head nervously as Wilhelmina peered at him under her dark eyebrows. He glanced back at the window and then back into the room. "You know, I only wanted to escape," he said, "until you pointed it out, I didn't realise the drop." Yet still, his eyes moved back and forth between the room and the window, as if he was weighing up both possibilities. Eventually he sighed and picked up the magnifying glass.

"Now, lets have a look at you," he said nervously standing and moving towards her, "Good Lord, is that the time, I am sorry, it looks like I'll have to go bye!" but before he could leave, Wilhelmina tripped him up and he fell on his face with a thud. She scowled at him and he rose, holding back tears.

"Look here, Doctor, if you really are one," Wilhelmina began,

"That’s just it, I don't think I am," he looked at her hair through the magnifying glass, "a bit of a bald spot here," he said,

"WHAT?" said Wilhelmina, "How dare you!"

"It's nothing to worry about." he leaped behind the desk for safety, "tell me, have you ever been attacked by some Eagles?"

"Well," mused Wilhelmina, "there was this one time-"

"I see," Hookbill wrote some things down on his paper, "let me guess where this happened." the old woman cocked her head, "Hotel California?" No reaction, "Well, never mind. Just, get yourself down to the operation theatre and I'll get someone to go and heal you." he ushered Wilhelmina out of the door and then slammed it behind him.

He dashed around the room like a chicken anticipating having its head cut off on its wedding day. The little man dived under the table once again and tried to think of something that he could do. But his mind was a blank; all he could see was being stuck in Mordor forever, tending Orcs and all kinds. Slowly he began to cry again.

The intercom - palantir buzzed at him and he immediately seized it from the desk. "What? What do you want?" he demanded before taking the large textbook down and 'reading' it.

"Doctor," came the nurse's voice, "you're needed in the operating theatre."

"Why? I'm not ill," said Hookbill trying to see if the drop out of the window was really that far. It was. He swore.

"No, sir," laughed the nurse, "you're performing the operations. We have quite a crowd today."

"Crowd!" shrieked Hookbill, and he seriously considered the window, but found the latch was stuck again. He began to cry again. "Can't I just go home?"

"Oh Doctor," said the nurse, "this is your new home!" with that, Hookbill flung himself at the window and bounced off, landing flat on his back, looking up at the nurse. "Are you coming?" she said, and before he could answer, she dragged him off down the hallway towards the operating theatre. As all The Offending Party watched the squirming little man being pulled along, many began to laugh. Hookbill squeaked as a discarded syringe nearly pierced him. He began to cry again.

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Old 01-27-2006, 12:47 AM   #216
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"Now is the winter of our discontent!" came the cry from the operating theatre. Hookbill was cast onto the stage face first. He looked up to see an operating table on witch laid Sai, with bruises on her head. Several Orcs, dressed in green aprons and white facemasks, surrounded the table and seemed to be checking the equipment.

Hookbill pointed up towards the wall. "Look over there!" he cried, as they looked he turned and ran, but was thrown to the floor by the nurse who then dragged him up to the table. Slowly he stood and looked at the table of medical instruments. Not a single euphonium.

Sai began to move, and one of the Orcs shouted, "More anaesthetic!" Nothing happened, "I mean, 'I begeth thee, oh gentlemen of this fair land, pray let us send our patient to slumber while we cure the aliments!" with that, the Orcs all grabbed what they could and began hitting Sai on the head until she fell unconscious. Hookbill stepped in and stopped them.

"Alright," he said, "I'll operate, just stop hitting the patients! Do you hear? No more hitting!" An Orc, who was poised over Félin lowered his staff and frowned as the dwarf struggled in the bonds that tied him to an audience chair. "So what are we doing here?" asked Hookbill.

"A euphonectomy," said the nurse handing him the medical textbook, "Look it up." Hookbill 'read' the book and then staggered around. He stood next to the table and held out his hand towards one of the Orcs. It spat on his hand. "Its an Orc custom," said the nurse wiping Hookbill's hand with disinfectant.

"Right," said Hookbill adjusting his collar, "scalpel," he was handed one, "tweezers..." he got to work on the operation, hoping that his patient wouldn't die, "Five inch knife... bowl... mayonnaise... wipe... blood bucket..." he worked as Félin looked on in horror. Hookbill's hands were shaking more than someone in an electric chair.

The little man closed his eyes and reached inside Sai's small intestines. He pulled out an Onion. There was a thin 'Beeeeeeeeeep' sound that swiftly stopped when he replaced it. "Why didn't you tell me that was a heart?" said Hookbill to one of the Orcs. Hookbill 'read' the textbook again. He looked again into the mess and to his lasting surprise, found what appeared for all the world to be a miniature euphonium lodged in Sai's spleen. He swiftly removed it and closed the incision up.

Hookbill fainted.

He got up in time to see Sai being lead away with the small euphonium in a bag and bandages on her head. Hookbill sighed and looked at the operating table where Félin was situated with more bruises on his head. "I thought I told you-" began Hookbill.

"He fell down the stairs," said an Orc. But Hookbill was not convinced as the other Orcs began to laugh maliciously. Feeling quite sick, Hookbill looked at the Dwarf and began to wonder what he was supposed to do. "Come on, Doctor," said the Orc, "This isn't brain surgery."

"Yes it is!" said Hookbill, "'Talking brain syndrome.'" He began to regret making that up. He picked up what looked like a small hammer and tapped it on Félin's head. The Dwaft did not move, but he heard the strange sound of beeping from within Félin's scull.

"At the sound of the tone, the time (sponsored by Ardarist) will be 3:05 and 7 seconds... Beep." came the sound from inside.

"Oh no," said Hookbill, "Now come on, this is ridiculous! I know for a fact that Talking Brain syndrome does n-" an Orc had taken the liberty of making the first incision. "Hay!" shouted Hookbill, "that’s my job!" he couldn’t believe he was saying this. The little man grabbed some clamps and held open a hole in Félin's head where they saw a small, very small, mobile telephone, with the talking clock speaking out of it.

"At the sound of the tone, the time (sponsored by Aradarist) will be 3:05 and 58 seconds... Beep."

Swiftly, Hookbill removed it and threw it into the audience, who then applauded him. Ignoring them, Hookbill closed the wound in Félin's head up and cleaned the blood off. The nurse applied some bandages.

Hookbill fainted again.

When he awoke, once again, Wilhelmina was asleep on the table. There were no buises on her head. "What happened?" asked Hookbill.

"Dave was telling her a story," said the nurse, pointing to an old Orc in a rocking chair. "Happens to everyone. It'll take a nuclear bomb to wake her up for another hour at least." Hookbill sighed and walked over to the table, picking up the Textbook and giving it a good long 'read'. He stumbled forwards and seized a scalpel, making a slight incision and peering into the bloody mess he had just made.

"There’s a lot of rubbish in here!" cried Hookbill, "What’s that? My house? And... Whose that living in it? Gandalf the Grey? Having one of his uncloaking parties again, I shouldn’t wonder!"

"You're hallucinating, Doctor." said the nurse, slapping him across the face.

"I am?" sighed Hookbill, "then where am I?"

"Mordor."

"Ohhh f-" he swore, "right then!" he closed the wound and then, accidentally, prodded Wilhelmina in the leg with the scalpel. She awoke with such a fright that her hair grew an extra inch, making the small bald spot disappear. There was a round of applause.

Hookbill fainted.

When he awoke, the little man found that he was in the office again, with a line of impatient patients waiting for him. "Oh dear," he said, "Oh dear, oh dear!" he repeated over and over. The next 'victim' entered the room.

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Old 01-27-2006, 03:05 PM   #217
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Dr. Hookbill's first three victims...erm...patients returned to the rest of the Offending Party. Panakeia gasped at their appearances. The bruises on Sai and the Dwarf didn't look encouraging, though she approved of Wilhelmina's new hairstyle. What the little man, whose sobbing could now be heard intermittently through the door, had done to them was a mystery to her, and not one that Panakeia was particularly eager to solve.

The nurse came out and pointed at Panakeia. "The Doctor will see you now," she said.

Panakeia looked to her left, then to her right, and then behind her. Her neighbors scurried to distant corners and tried to look intent on reading the outdated magazines scattered in the room. "Who, me?" she asked.

"Yes, you. Walk this way." The nurse led Panakeia to Hookbill's office, hips swaying in a curious sashay. Panakeia had no intention of imitating her stride. The nurse opened the office door and pushed her inside. "Your next patient, Doctor."

"Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear!" went Hookbill's voice.

This little scene didn't increase Panakeia's confidence in the Doctor's skills. But she did her best to put on a brave face.

"Pleased to meet you, Dr. Hookbill. Why do you keep saying 'Oh, dear'? I can assure you, there's nothing wrong with me."
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Old 01-27-2006, 06:42 PM   #218
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Sai stumbled out of the 'operating theatre' and promptly collapsed against the nearest stable object, clutching both head and stomach. As she and Fléin had entered they had been grabbed from behind, and the last thing Sai remembered was the sight of a wall coming towards her at a surprising speed.

Unfortunately, the object turned out to be the elevator doors, which opened behind her and sent her sprawling backwards into the arms of someone very soft. Sai tried to scramble to her feet, but that involved using her stomach muscles, and they weren't too keen on exerting themselves after whatever that mad doctor had done to them. As she groaned on the floor, a gloved hand reached down to help her up. Taking it she pulled, and then screamed as it came off in her hand!

"No, no! Please! Don't worry! Happens all the time, really." Came a voice from above, and Sai looked up quickly. The fast movement caused flashing lights to appear in front of her eyes, and she made a mental note not to do anything to stress her head. When her vision cleared, she saw that she was sitting in front of what looked like a man made out of straw. To make matters even stranger, he was still talking.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, fine, thank you. Just a little surgery. Uh, I'm sorry but, you do know you're made out of straw right? And that your hand has just come off?"

"Oh yes. I just need a little manure and that'll go right back on though so don't you worry. Just pass it back here."

Sai did as he said whilst shaking her head (gently) in the hope that this was just a hallucination or a dream. However, the pain caused by that simple motion soon had her convinced that if this was a dream it was incredibly realistic, and she should just play along.

"Well then, it's nice to meet you Mr . . .?"

"Fawkes, Guy Fawkes. I'm afraid people sent the day celebrating my death to Mordor. I was something of an anarchist you see, and this fact was bizarrely celebrated in the form of fireworks and practical jokes for years! But those dratted kids went and ruined it and now I'm here. I don't suppose you'd be interested in throwing me on a fire would you? I burn very well you know."

"I would love to Mr Fawkes but you see this is my stop. It was lovely speaking to you. Hope I imagine you again soon. Goodbye!"

And Sai fled the elevator the second the doors opened, leaving a very forlorn looking Guy Fawkes waving his hand with the one still attached to the rest of him. Stopping for a moment to give the world a chance to stop spinning as her body recovered from the burst of speed she looked around this new floor. She knew she had to find a Doctor Sigmund, but couldn't see that name on any of the doors around her.

After a fruitless few minutes spent scouring the length and depth of the corridor (she had fallen a few times as her head seemed to have disconnected itself slightly from the rest of her body and was now working with the body of something that had at least 3 extra legs) she decided to knock on the door with no name, wondering if this was the beginning of the test, being able to find the right door.

She knocked twice and heard a voice call out.

"Two knocks! Definitely the sign of an Oedipal complex! Enter!"

So she did.
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Old 01-28-2006, 02:04 AM   #219
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"Pleased to meet you, Dr. Hookbill." said Panakeia, "Why do you keep saying 'Oh, dear'? I can assure you, there's nothing wrong with me." Hookbill looked up sharply and began twitching like Gollum on a bad hair day... which was every day.

"Oh, but there’s something wrong with me," mumbled Hookbill as he sat down again, "Do you have any food?" Panakeia shook her head and Hookbill put his hand over his eyes and shook his head. He seemed to have a card on the desk that said, "congratulations on your successful operations" written in big bubble letters and a picture of a cartoon doctor showing a thumbs up with a patient on an operating table doing the same, only with a hole in his chest.

"Are you alright?" asked Panakeia as the tears rolled down Hookbill's face and he looked around his person for something.

"I'm looking for my stethoscope," he said eventually. He got up and walked around the room, coming to the bookcase he climbed up and began looking around. "It must be here somewhere." he threw all the books onto the floor, "not here," he mumbled. He went over to a filing cabinet and emptied it onto the floor. "Still nothing." he went to another table on the other side of the room, there was a large packet of crisps on top of some paper. "Ah ha! Naughty stethoscope, hiding in the crisps again!" he tore open th packet and crisps went everywhere. No stethoscope.

"Doctor?" said Panakeia,

"Its no good," moaned Hookbill (although he was happy inwardly), "I cant' do the physical, I cant' find the stethoscope."

"Have you checked the desk in front of you?"

"Oh, there it is." Hookbill picked it up and put the earpieces in, "Lets have a listen then."

"What to?" Panakeia thought about escaping almost as much as Hookbill did.

"Well... erm..." he paused, "the... erm... heart?" Panakeia sighed. Hookbill placed the listening part of the stethoscope on Panakeia's chest and listened. He hummed as if in thought, although the only thing he was thinking of was the best way to get out. "Yep, both working normally." he said moving back.

"What do you mean, 'both'?" Panakeia inquired, eyeing Hookbill suspiciously.

"Oh, you only have one heart?" he looked in the textbook which was mysteriously back on the desk, "Then we'll have to get that sorted. It’s a condition called 'Severe arctic heartic' making your heart beat so loud that it seems there are two of them. Ask the nurse for some pills and you'll be right as rain by tomorrow." Hookbill grinned inwardly, 'that was good' he thought.

"I don't believe you," said Panakeia, "Are you even a doctor?"

"Apparently," mused Hookbill, "that’s what they told me. But, if there appears to be no change, then... erm... go and see someone else about it. Good bye!" Panakeia gladly left and Hookbill slumped back in his chair, looking at the mess he had made. He hummed and began creeping towards the door. 'If I take my coat off and make a run for it, perhaps no one will notice Me.' he thought, but as he began to remove the blood stained coat, the intercom buzzed at him and he fell over.

"Doctor," said the nurse, "the patient you just sent to me can't take pills."

"Why?"

"We only have Orc pills," the nurse seemed concerned, "she'll have to go for surgery, I've sent her down there now."

Hookbill cried and fell to the floor. The door opened again.
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Old 01-28-2006, 10:22 AM   #220
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Panakeia left Hookbill's office in a fit of pique. 'Severe arctic heartic?' Bah. There was no such thing. But hadn't Hookbill said something about two hearts? Suddenly, she decided to blame her conscience, the source of so many of her problems over the past few days (she thought).

This is all your fault. You're the one who had to give me a heart.

Don't be ridiculous. You know that the heart you're talking about is just a metaphor.

I wouldn't be so sure. This is Mordor after all. But that Hookbill. I know a thing or two about fakery, and he's a fake if I ever saw one.

So first you blame me, then you say he's wrong? A bit inconsistent, aren't we?


She snapped back. I'll be as inconsistent as I want.

At least there was one thing to be grateful for. Hookbill hadn't said anything about surgery. Panakeia would gladly accept the pills, although whether or not she would take them was a different matter. She walked up to the nurse.

"Can I help you?" The nurse smiled pleasantly.

"Yes. Dr. Hookbill," Panakeia nearly choked over the 'Doctor' "said something about pills for severe arctic heartic."

"I'll see what I can do." She strolled over to a closet and looked inside. "Oh dear. We only have pills for Orcs. I’m afraid you'll need surgery."

"Surgery? No. I don’t want that. Just give me the pills. I'll only take them when I'm driving. I'm an Orc then. I promise."

"That simply won't do. Off to surgery you go."

"Who said you can make that decision? You're not a doctor. For that matter, neither is Hookbill. I'm sure of it. I'm leaving." Panakeia turned to flee. But two Orcs stood behind her.

The nurse addressed the Orcs. "Take this patient to surgery, please."

As Panakeia struggled and the nurse pressed a button on the intercom to inform Hookbill about the latest development in her case, the Orcs dragged her away.

"This isn't right, you know," she protested. "What about informed consent?" The Orcs shrugged and pulled her into the operating theatre. As she entered, a voice said "But soft! What light through yonder window breaks?" Valde, at least, would like this place, she thought glumly as ropes secured her to a chair.

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Old 01-28-2006, 10:43 AM   #221
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Alli slipped through the door just as Panakeia walked out of it. She looked disdainfully at the crying man on the floor and kicked him lightly.

"Come on, get up."

"No... I don't want to do this any more. You can't make me." Consulting his medical manual, Doctor Hookbill wept a bit more and looked more dejected than ever.

"Come now, Doctor, I'm in a hurry. I know you're still recovering from the attack in the beginning of the game from that jerk Mario... but that's no reason for you to lay on the floor crying."

At the name, Hookbill looked up, his tears startled into stopping.

"Yes, I know. I'm the one that found you. Blame me, if you want, that you ended up here, but blame me quickly and let me leave. I still have to go find Mario again and kill him. The more time we waste, the less time I have to save the world. You wouldn't want the world to get destroyed, would you?"

There was a poignant pause as Alli stood within kicking distance and the Doctor lay on the floor, helplessly imbibing information from his book.
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Old 01-28-2006, 12:37 PM   #222
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With the bottle empty and his mind ablaze, Hookbill looked at Alli in confusion. But as this was his normal facial expression, she did not notice anything. The World? Destroyed? Hookbill bobbed his head from side to side and then crawled under his desk and then slumped up to his chair. The room was spinning. He felt sick. "I think I need a doctor,” he said at last.

"How ironic," snorted Alli. Hookbill shook his head. What was in that whiskey? He picked up the textbook and looked at the empty bottle. The whiskey label, it seemed, was glued over the top of another. So Hookbill removed the label to find another that said, 'vinegar'.

"Oh good grief," said Hookbill, ready to be sick, "I don't feel so good." he dashed to the window, opened it with surprising ease, and was sick. Alli slumped into the chair and waited patiently as the little man returned to his chair and then dashed back to the window again. Hookbill finally got back to his seat and stayed there. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked, forgetting nearly everything Alli had said.

"Oh, I have this huge pain in the back side," she sneered, "I think its called 'Hookbill's disease'."

"Really? Then go and find a cure." Hookbill waddled to the door and tried to escape, but Alli whacked him over the head with something. "Ow!" he cried, holding his head, "What was that for?"

"It was the cure," she sniggered as the little man tried once again to hide under the desk. "Look, don't you understand?"

"Oh, I understand perfectly well," said Hookbill, "You’re trying to kill me, and I'm trying to escape. It’s a sort of paradox, you see?"

"No," Alli nearly tripped on some of the mess, "Do you even know what a paradox is?"

"I don't, and I don't want to find out. If there is nothing wrong with you, then go away!"

"With pleasure," but as she turned, a crab from under the desk grabbed her ankle and refused to let go. Hookbill squeaked and grabbed a stick and began beating the crab with it. Eventually it let go and scuttled off to its hiding place.

"That thing was probably full of germs," said Hookbill, "The nurse will probably know what to do. Go and see her. If she says anything about surgery, just say... something... Its not pleasant." Alli left and the little man began to wonder in his mind. 'The one who found me?' was she responsible for all this? It didn't matter right now. All that mattered was getting away. Hookbill had formulated a plan. He walked to the door, but he jumped as the burse boomed from the intercom.

"I've sent Alli down for surgery." she said.

"What?" screeched Hookbill, grabbing the Palantir, "She doesn’t' need surgery!"

"Oh yes she does. That crab wasn't full of germs, but a bit of its claw is lodged in her leg."

"I told her to refuse surgery."

"Well, she fainted." there was a pause.

"Fainted, or was knocked out?"

"Both."

Hookbill slumped on the tabled and thumbed his fist on the table. The door swung open dramatically.
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Old 01-28-2006, 12:46 PM   #223
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Fléin staggered out of the operating theatre a few minutes after Sai had left, though he didn't know it. His head screamed in pain. His Talking Brain Syndrome had been relieved, but this was little comfort, as he hadn't had it before.

The surgery had not been without its consequences. He had been shown his image in a mirror before he had left. Not only was his face covered in tender bruises of the purple variety, there was a bloody slash across his forehead where he had been sliced open. He had heard the orcs murmuring before he had been allowed to leave.

"Ith that where-?" whispered one orc in Tartan with square glasses.

"Yeth," replied another with half-moon glasses and a long silver beard. "He'll have that thcar forevew."

This had made him feel little better, though he had to admit, the lightning scar shape was quite trendy looking.

He had left the surgery feeling odd, as well as tender. He presumed he had bled, for he felt light and giddy. His fingers tingled. He had a curious desire to find a broomstick.

--------------------------------------------------------

Fléin finally managed to get to Mr Freud's office, though Sai was within at the moment. He loitered around outside, reaffirming his grip on himself. He felt slightly more secure now.

The corridor was lit with fluorescent lights. One was flickering, in the manner typical of hospitals. The whitewashed walls offered little relief from boredom, and soon Fléin's mind was wondering to A Slan.

Suddenly, he felt that he was being watched, and glanced at the window at the end of the corridor. As if in response to his thought, a sparrow was perched there. He walked over and knew, before it opened it's beak, what it would say.

He opened the window, grabbed the bird in a fist before it could say anything, and glared at it.

"I am not in the best of moods. A Slan is on the move, I know. Now tell me what A Slan is. Oh, bugger."

He realised that he was probably still not fully under his own control. The anaesthetic drugs must have still been affecting his mind. That would explain why he had misjudged his force and now had sparrow puree in his hand.

He sighed, opened the window, and dropped the sparrow carcass out of the window, no more enlightened than before.
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Old 01-29-2006, 01:54 PM   #224
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Sai entered the room to see a small, balding man sitting in a chair with a pair of glasses perched on the end of his nose, a notebook in one hand and a pen in the other. He was surrounded by hundreds of books, but they were all so dusty that it looked like they had never once been opened.

The man motioned her to the couch positioned next to the chair.

“ My name is Dr Freud and I will be assessing your mental state. Please lie down and we can get started.”

Sai did as she was told, though she nearly missed the couch as her attention was focused on the small tic the man had under his left eye. It would have been somewhat hypnotic, except that it was completely irregular, and only really got going when he spoke. Her stomach muscles protested as she used them to lower herself onto the couch, but at least her head was cooperating again.

“So, Sai, is it? Well, Sai, were you always with your mother as a young child?”

Stumped Sai tried to remember. It wasn’t easy since she felt slightly concussed, and she was pretty sure memories didn’t even start at that age, but she did her best, and thought that it was pretty unlikely in any case.

“I suppose not, I mean she must have gone places without me.”

“So you were separated from her?”

“Sometimes, but . . .”

“Aha! Maternal deprivation! You are an affectionless psychopath!”

“I am not!”

“And you’re in denial!”

“No I’m not – that’s in Egypt!”

“Oh dear, definitely repressing. You poor thing, your childhood must have been terrible.”

“No it . . .”

“Ever steal anything?”

“No! Well, except Orlando Bloom’s fangirls and J Lo’s bottom.”

“Delusional as well! My word.”

“I’m not delusional! Just ask Anakron!”

“And imaginary friends. My dear girl your mind is quite a minefield.”

About to reply with something a little less restrained, Sai realised that she not going to get any sense from the man, and decided to let him believe what he liked about her if it would just get her out of here faster.

“Fine, so I’m an affectionless psychopathic repressive denialist with imaginary friends.”

“Good! The first stage to recovery is acceptance!”

Shaking her head in bemusement Sai brought her hands to her face and pretended to break down in tears.

”You’re right, oh you’re so right!”

“Wonderful! The barriers have been broken! You’re going to be alright!”

“Really? Does that mean I can go now?”

The little man nodded and stood up. Beaming at Sai he extended a hand and pulled her to her feet. She was a little worried at how fast this whole section seemed to have gone, after the surgery she was sure there would be more dire consequences to be faced. Still, she wasn't about to complain!

“It is nice when I make a breakthrough. Makes me feel like this whole thing is worthwhile.”

And still beaming, he led a now rather guilty feeling Sai back out of the door. Outside she saw Fléin, but before she could warn him that this doctor was as insane as the last one, he had been whisked inside.
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Old 01-29-2006, 03:11 PM   #225
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"So, Fléin, do sit down. I'm sure you know my job, eh?"

Fléin nodded. He took his place on the couch, but kept his eyes on the window to his left incase another bird came.

"So, how close were you to your father as a child?"

Fléin sighed inwardly. This was not going to be an easy session. He tried to explain, as well as possible, the complexities of Dwarf families and their differences from Men. "You see, we don't display our gender so flagrantly as you humans," he had finished.

All the time, Freud had been taking notes. He looked up into Fléin's eyes, then smiled wryly. "I'm afraid this doesn't bode well. No father figure... Yes... most damaging. Tell me, how old are you?"

"A hundred and a bit," he said.

"And in all this time you've felt no desire to marry?"

Again, Fléin tried to explain the Dwarf customs, but he suspected Freud was only hearing what he wanted to hear.

"Do you feel attracted to anybody?"

Fléin stuttered. He didn't feel like telling this man about Wilhelmina. But then, it was for his mental good. He spilt the beans.

"Wilhelmina? I think I saw her enter the building. Small, squat, wrinkly?"

"Hmm."

Freud sighed, snapped his notebook shut and looked directly at Fléin. "I'm afraid you are a homosexual," he said.

Fléin snapped his head away from the window and glared at the man. "How on Arda did you come to that conclusion? What about Wilhelmina!"

Freud smiled softly. "She's no more a womanly woman than I am."

Fléin felt himself boiling, but restrained himself. Let the imbecile believe what he wanted, if he could leave more quickly. "Actually, now that you mention it, I do find Anakron quite appealing. What's the cure?"

Freud shrugged. "Homosexuality isn't actually a disorder, you know. As such, I can't treat it. You'll have to get used to it."

"What do you mean it's not a disorder! It's abominable!"

"See, you need to get past all these feelings of yours. Learn to accept yourself for who you are, Fléin. Tell me, why do you keep looking out of that window?"

"A Slan is on the move," Fléin replied without thinking, immediately regretting it.

"A Slan? A "sine loco, anno, vel nomine?" Some nameless, placeless, timeless thing is moving?" He scribbled frantically. "I'm afraid you're delusional, my dear Dwarf.

"Delusional? The Birds told me!"

"Completely nutty! No wonder with such poor parenting."

Fléin suddenly felt a deep hatred of the man. "What did you say about my parents?" he demanded through his teeth.

"Poor parenting. No common sense. Gender Ambiguous."

"They were NOT!" Fléin raged at him. His scar burnt, far worse than the dull pain of his bruises, and suddenly...

Freud swelled up. Like a balloon, he swelled bigger and bigger. Fléin watched in amazement, anger gone, as he ballooned out into a sphere and floated to the ceiling.

Fléin jumped out of the couch, opened the door and bellowed down the corridor: "Somebody fetch Doctor Hookbill!"
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Old 01-30-2006, 12:34 AM   #226
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The Door opened dramatically and the nurse stepped into the room. "Doctor, you are needed." Hookbill laughed, for the first time in a while. He plodded out, following the nurse down the corridor as someone was shouting 'someone get Doctor Hookbill'.

"What is going on?" asked the Doctor, "Is it another bit of surgery?"

"Not yet," replied the nurse, "go in there," she pushed open Freud's door. There they beheld the man floating at the top of the room with his face a vision of rage and confusion. Almost without thinking, Hookbill took a pin from his coat pocket tred to burst Freud. However, he couldn't quite reach and had to stand on a chair.

"Doctor," warned Félin, "I don't think this will work."

"Nonsense, my dear boy," said Hookbill wildly stabbing the pin here and there, not really looking at what he was doing, "I'm a doctor... apparently. I'm sure everything will be alright in the e-"

BANG
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Old 01-30-2006, 02:43 PM   #227
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After Hookbill's treatment of Mr Freud, Fléin had been ushered away by a nurse. She kept stepping on his feet, which was quite a feat in itself, considering he was walking behind her. Behind him, he heard weeping, then frantic mumbling, before Doctor Hookbill was out of sight.

The nurse informed him that until Freud was reassembled from his many pieces, Fléin would have to wait in this here waiting room. She apologised for the inconvenience and assured him that, as soon as Freud was remade, his appointment would resume. She made to leave.

"Wait a second! Didn't that explosion kill Freud?" Fléin asked.

"Of course not. Why would it?"

"Well," Fléin assumed the air of one in deep thought, "one would presume the distribution of his innards over his office would be detrimental to his general health," he finished drily.

The nurse laughed at him. "Oh, don't be so silly! Deus ex machina!" she giggled mystically before shoving him into the waiting room and wandering off.

Fléin closed the door behind him, apprehensive of what appeared to be a chance of peace in this lunatic hospital.

"Speaking of Deus..." a voice boomed behind him, and he swivelled around immediately. There, in the centre of the violent pink room, was a huge shadow in the shape of a great lion. Black wisps of smoke were wreathed around it like mist, obscuring it somewhat, but there was no mistaking its shape. For a long moment, Fléin believed Freud was right about his delusions - this couldn't be real!

The antilion bowed. "Fléin son of Fréin. Hail. I am A Slan."

"A Slan?! But you're on the move!"

"Not anymore," the beast rumbled. "I have found my quarry."

Fléin felt choked. "But... A Slan... Why have you been searching for me?"

A Slan laughed, and his rumbling was so deep the floor shook. "You are not my quarry, Fléin Fréinson. I come merely to ask you, for you have not yet replied to my agents: Do you stand with me or against me?"

Fléin pondered the situation before replying, "I hope you don't mind, A Slan, but I have no idea what's going on. Your agents weren't very helpful. If you could summarise the situation, perhaps I could make a decision."

"There is no time to explain."

"Then I must remain neutral, your Slanness."

The antilion bowed once more, a most curious sight, then stood up proudly. "I must find Anakron!" he roared, and bounded off, the door of the waiting room mysteriously opening itself for him.

"Wait!" Fléin cried. "Anakron is your quarry?"

A Slan looked back over his shoulder at the dwarf, smiled, and said "Of course." He bounded off once again, but this time with Fléin at his heels, struggling and failing to keep up.
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Old 01-30-2006, 03:20 PM   #228
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Alli woke up tied to a chair in the theatre. Her knuckles were bruised and throbbing. Her head was bruised and throbbing. It took several seconds of hard thought to remember that first she had been hit on the head. Bruise one explained. Then she had woken up en route to the theatre. Knowing that there was nothing wrong with her, as far as her slightly inebriated pseudo-doctor could tell, and that she was about to experience a pointless and forcibly performed surgery, fists flew.

The nurse's perfect blonde hair was now disarrayed. Her perfectly placed eyeshadow had smudged. Her perfectly pouty lips now actually pouted as her perfectly broken nose was jammed back into place by a real physician (with the appropriate non-levels of bedside manner) with a crunch of shifting cartelage. Bruise two explained.

Once Alli had managed to break the nose of her captor, she had been knocked out once more. Her head was really starting to hurt. The split from several days ago had reopened, oozing slightly. She looked down and admired her hands. They hurt, but Alli was willing to bet that the pretty blonde nurse, Meriseowyn, was hurting more. It made her smile in a cruel sort of way.

After all, being tied tightly to a chair with a scalpel coming closer every second gave Alli little reason to smile in a sweet sort of way. She was dead curious about just what these people planned to do to her.

Illamatar spoke.

"Use the force, Alli."

"Pardon?"

"The force."

"I'm slightly unaware of your meaning. What, if you don't mind my asking, is the force?"

"Ah, my mistake. Wrong dimension. Mumble mumble parallel universe mumble mumble Obi Wan mumble. Sorry about that. Baa."

Alli looked worriedly between the orcs that played nearby with knives and the quiet place in her head where these words echoed like thunder in the hills. Illamatar appeared, standing before her, his golden fleece glimmering in the stage-lights.

"What do I do, Illamatar? They're going to cut me open!"

"Grin an bare it."

"Bare what?!" Alli shrieked, blushing. "I'm not baring a single thing on stage in front of all of these people."

"Ah, my mistake again. Most sorry... misused homophone. This is really not my day. Baa. I meant to say grin and bear it." With that, Illamatar disappeared and Alli looked more nervous than ever. The surgical staff was getting closer and not even Doctor Hookbill seemed to be around. While she had little faith in his medical expertise, she at least applauded his ability to forget reality for a short time through "reading". That was what escapism was really about. When in doubt of the world around, take a good "read". That was a good life lesson. She grimaced and waited, hoping that something would happen.

Suddenly she heard mysterious song lyrics that had nothing to do with the story. Smiling, she bobbed her head to the tune. As she grinned, a bear appeared. She stopped grinning and it disappeared. She tried again, thinking this too good to be true. Surely enough, it came back. She happily thought how great it would be to be untied and, whaddaya know, here came the bear and untied her.

As orc security guards came closer, Alli enthusiastically smiled about how great it would be for them to be tied up instead. Whodathunkit, but wouldn't you guess that the next thing she knew, the bear was tying up the orcs?

Within a short amount of time, every orc in the theatre was fastened to a large and unmovable object. Alli grinned a lot and walked with the bear out the door.

As she passed through the open portal, a completely unexpected piece of Freud hit her in the already very sore head. Down she went and Doctor Hookbill looked at her.

"Oh dear..." he murmered, holding back sobs. "I believe there's a bone splinter. We'll have to operate."
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Old 01-30-2006, 09:56 PM   #229
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Mardil waved goodbye to his shapely TA, closed the door of his University dorm room, and fell back onto the couch. "Well, that's one task taken care of."

"What do you mean by that?" asked Anakron as he entered from the kitchen munching on potato chips.

Mardil jumped up in surprise. "When did you get here?"

"Oh, a couple minutes ago, but you didn't answer my question, Mardil. What do you mean when you say that one of your tasks is taken care of?"

Mardil winked and drew a certificate from a hidden pocket. There was a lot of typical legal and official babble scattered about the small scroll, but the important bit read ...Mardil II has completed his course in Approaches to Rulership at the University of Mordor.

"That's an amazing accomplishment considering you never went to class," observed Anakron.

"Well, Katie gave me the complete notes for the class so I just studied those and took my test," explained Mardil.

"And Katie is?"

"The TA."

"But didn't you lose attendance points for not going to class?"

"No, no," said Mardil, "Katie marked me present at every meeting."

"And your paper?" asked Anakron.

"Oh, that didn't take any time at all. Katie gave me a heads up on all the stuff the professor wanted to see, and told me some things to put in my paper that would rub the prof the right way."

"And how in the world did you manage to convince Katie to do all of this for you?" asked Anakron.

"You already know the answer, I'm sure," remarked Mardil as he grinned and sat back down on the couch.

Anakron rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes, I suppose I do know the answer, Mister Bond."

"Mister who?"

"Never mind."

Mardil reached down and grabbed a bag of beef jerky from beside the couch and ripped it open. "Sit down, Anakron, and tell me why you're here."

Anakron did not sit, but he did lean against the wall. "I came to ask why you've been at the hospital just about every day but have not taken your physical."

"I've just been getting to know all the nurses," replied Mardil.

"And what purpose does that serve?" asked Anakron.

"Well, seeing as I have to have some sort of surgery, it will be to my advantage if the entire surgical staff is fond of me."

"In other words," said Anakron, "You are insuring that nothing major is done to you?"

"Correct. No matter what the doctor recommends, that surgical staff won't take a scalpel to me for a million dollars. The most they will do is snip off a hang nail, or perhaps give my hair a trim," laughed Mardil.

"Well then, it appears you have that situation under control. When are you going in for your physical?"

"Right now. After that I'll hop over for my psych evaluation."

Anakron walked over to the closet door and opened it. "What if your physical takes too long and doesn't allow you time to go for your psych eval?"

"I'll make sure the doctor administering the physical keeps it short," said Mardil with a twirl of his favorite knife.

Anakron nodded and turned towards the closet. "I'll see you later, Mardil." And with that, he stepped into the closet and shut the door. Mardil crossed the room and opened the door, but Anakron was nowhere to be seen.

Last edited by the phantom; 01-31-2006 at 10:25 PM.
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Old 01-31-2006, 12:58 AM   #230
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Hookbill lifted himself out of the sludge left by Freud and wandered down the corridor, following Félin until he was forced into the operating theatre. On the floor, he saw Alli with bone splinter. "We'll have to operate," he said, and then added, "What am I saying? I need to get out of here! My wife’s going to kill me!"

"You have a wife?" asked the nurse, bandaging herself up.

"It's a figure of speech." Hookbill followed the nurse to the operating theatre, mainly because two Orcs with swords were guarding the exit. The nurse began to snigger, "What's so funny? I, personally, cannot see anything funny about the last few days!"

"Oh its just..." she laughed again, "Well, the idea of you having a wife, its quite amusing." Hookbill sulked. She was right, of course, but he didn't like being made fun of.

"What's so amusing?" he asked angrily.

"Well, you don't strike me as the..." she sniggered again, "Well, the 'attractive' type."

"Look," shouted Hookbill, thumping his fist on the table, "I've taken abuse, injury, threats, and even a knife or two, but this is really going too far!" The burse rolled her eyes and threw Hookbill towards the operating table. Slowly, he got up and looked to see Panakeia already prepared for the operation.

"Severe arctic Heartic," said one of the Orcs, "I had that once. I think I may be the cause."

"I heard that rumour," said another,

"I know, I started It." sniggered the Orc. Hookbill hushed them with a wave of his hand and looked at the instruments again. When he looked back, an Orc had made the first incision, again.

"Hay!" cried Hookbill, "Stop doing that! Its not nice!" the Orcs howled with laughter, Hookbill swore at them, that only increased their laughter, even Panakeia began to chuckle. "Just stop it!" shouted Hookbill, feeling really dejected, but they only laughed more, pointing at him and rolling around. Panakeia began to laugh heartily, so much so that the second heart flew out and hit Hookbill square in the face and splattered him with more blood.

Three of the Orcs passed out.

Hookbill got up and closed up the wound and lead Panakeia back to the Offending Party. Mardil was walking towards him with a grinning face. "What are you so happy about?" snapped Hookbill.

"Oh nothing." he replied, "You've got something on your face there. Down a bit, left, in the sort of all over your face vicinity." Hookbill groaned and slumped in the corner and looked at his blood covered hands.

"So much blood!" he sobbed, "I can't go on! My hands are shaking like a leaf!"

"Who are you?" asked Mardil

"I'm the Doctor," he moaned and Mardil felt a weight of foreboding fall upon him. All that blood, although he wasn't the sort to faint at the sight, made him feel uneasy. "Any way, I must dash, I'll diagnose you on the way." he only said this because three Orcs with swords came around the corner. Mardil reluctantly followed. What had this person been doing? There was blood on his back! Suddenly, the prospect of a simple clip of the toenails seemed less likely. He gulped.

Hookbill was shoed into the theatre where Alli was all set up. The crab's claw was sticking out of her leg. He hadn't remembered it being that bad. "It attacked again," explained the nurse. Her injuries really began to disturb Mardil. This hospital was insane.
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Old 01-31-2006, 11:53 AM   #231
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The injury to Alli's leg wasn't that serious, really. But that didn't stop Hookbill from making a fuss about it. "So, we'll have to amputate?" he asked nervously. When an Orc picked up a rusty saw, Hookbill shrieked and hid under a table, but the nurse picked him up and told him that that wouldn't be necessary.

"Okay then," said Hookbill at last, "Then we'll have to remove it... via the... liver?" the Orcs nodded and grinned; one lifted a saw and made the first incision. Hookbill squeaked and pushed the Orc out of the way before he did too much damage. He wiped his brow and picked up some random instruments. However, as he did, he knocked over a mysterious bottle with a label on it that resembled skeletal thumbs up. No one actually knew what it did, but as it poured out, they saw that it was grey in colour, although it had orange spots. Hookbill fell over backwards as it dripped into he open wound. There was sent a huge shudder through her and the crab's claw flew out and broke a window.

Mardil stood near the exit trying to see if he could get past the Orcs, when he found that they would not budge for love or money, he gave up and sat down. When the Crab's claw flew past towards the window, he leaped to his feet and looked in astonishment. How in the world had this silly little man achieved this? It made absolutely no sense.

A huge uruk came and placed a heavy hand on Hookbill's shoulder. He turned to look into the horrid face of an accountant Uruk. He held up a piece of paper and a quill.

"Sign this," insisted the uruk,

"Why?" asked Hookbill, shakily, "What is it?"

"A death warrant."

"For whome?" cried Hookbill trying to sink to the ground, but being picked up by the Uruk.

"Oh, some guy named" he placed some small glasses on, "El-ess-arr."

"Why don't you get someone more senior to do this?" inquired Hookbill.

"Well," explained the Uruk thrusting the paper into the small man's hands, "you are the senior doctor. It says so on your badge." Hookbill looked and saw that the badge bore the name "Sinyore Ductor" the previous owner of the coat. He sighed and said he would do it later.

"Look," said the uruk, "I need this signing soon! Get it done."

"Okay," cried Hookbill, "I'll try, but I'm a little busy!" the uruk stormed off. The Uruk pushed Hookbill to the floor as it passed

Hookbill stood up and went to where Mardil was sitting with a look of pure shock on his face. "Look doctor," he said, "it seems you know what your doing, so get on with it."

"That’s the thing," mumbled Hookbill, "I have no idea of what I am doing. Its just coincidence that what I diagnose seems to come true. I'm not going to push my luck." Mardil shrugged and let him get on with it. Hookbill took a stethoscope and with a quivering hand examined Mardil's head, chest and back. Then the little man picked up a clipboard and took a quill. "Any history of insanity in the family?" he asked.

"I think my grand-father has psychodelia once," chuckled Mardil.

"I always thought that was a cook book for mental patients." said Hookbill, cocking his head to one side, "Oh well... Do you have back problems?"

"Yeah, it keeps trying to kill me."

"I see,"

"I was only-"

"Any occasions where you've found you can't think of anything to say?"

"Erm..."

"I see." Hookbill wrote frantically and illegibly. Mardil grew wrathful and picked up the little man by the throat.

"Look here," he said, "I am not insane, I have not got a killer back and I can always think of something to say... No I am not in denial!" He threw the little man towards a window, which smashed as he flew through it.

Hookbill looked up at the trees that hung over the cliff edge, he watched as they slowly got smaller and further away. Why they had built the university hospital so close to a cliff was beyond Hookbill, but this was Mordor. The wind grew faster as it flew past his ears and the faint sounds of Mardil being arrested fluttered into the distance. How was he supposed to do the final diagnosis now? The rocks were getting darker now, and the light was further away.

Finally, everything stopped.
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Old 01-31-2006, 12:15 PM   #232
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Fléin followed A Slan, or tried to. The Great Antilion did not wait for him, and he fell behind quickly, though the creature was always in view in front of Fléin.

Fléin rounded a corner, scared that A Slan would be out of sight, but as he did so, he saw the lion standing calmly in front of him.

"You must not follow me further than the door, Fléin," He said sombrely. "Be strong, and comfort her."

Before he could ask what this meant, the Antilion was loping off down the corridor again. He turned into a room on his right, and was gone. Fléin ran to the door, only just ajar, and peered into the room. What he saw awed him.

There, in the centre of the room, dominating it, was a raised stretcher. A Slan flung himself upon this, dark strands of vapour flowing behind him. And at the head of the Stretcher was - Anakron. Fléin had never liked the man, but now... he was struck to the bone as never before. The glint in Anakron's eyes was not pleasant.

And all around the stretcher, filling the room, were hordes of... what were they? Horrible beasts of all shapes and sizes, evil creatures that moved upon their hind legs, creatures half cat and half bug, creatures half lemming and half snake, the likes of which Fléin had never seen before. The room was lit by flickering torches mounted upon the walls, and shadows cast themselves everywhere.

"Fléin!" the Dwarf heard a voice cry, and turned his face away to look down the corridor - it was startling how normal the world outside that room still seemed - and saw Sai. "I couldn't find the registr-"

But the Dwarf cut her off with hushing noises and a waving of the arms, and beckoned her to come. Together, they watched, collective breath drawn, as the scene unfolded.

Anakron brought a razor out from his pocket - it was one of those fancy electric ones - and cursed. "The batteries have gone!" he exclaimed to the room in general, to boos and disappointed groans. But he plugged the razor into a wall socket, and turned it on to produce a buzzing noise, soon drowned out by the cheer of the crowd.

"Just a quick trim today, please, Anakron," A Slan said. "Two inches thick would be good."

Anakron nodded, and brought the razor up to A Slan's vapourous neck. The creatures all around roared with laughter as swathes of his mane were cut off, only to vaporise. In a few minutes that seemed to Fléin and Sai like an eternity of torture, it was done. Anakron moved back, and they could see A Slan, his mane gone, and the crowds jeering at him.

"Bind him!" Anakron cried, and the creatures rushed forward with cords, and he was tied to the stretcher, and his muzzle bound. As soon as this was done, Anakron stepped forward. "Fool!" he cried, and cackled such as they had never heard before. "Fool! Great Fool! Die now, and know you have given me Nurnia forever! For tonight, I will kill you, as you have agreed, and who then will stand in my way? Who then will resist Anakron's - and the Dweomer's - rule over Mordor?"

The creatures started up their jeering once more. A Slan turned his head to look at the door, at Fléin and Sai, and there was a loving smile in his eye. Then Anakron called for silence, and all noise save the spluttering of the torches distinguished itself.

Anakron spoke in a quiet voice that was nevertheless clearly audible, and carried over the room and to the door unhindered. "No doubt, Antilion, you revel in your idiocy. How many worlds have you seen? How many times have you offered yourself, and risen, and conquered? How long have you relied on the Deeper Magic from before the Dawn of Time?"

Fléin saw A Slan's eyes widen in shock. Next to him, he was aware of Sai quietly sobbing.

"Old Fool! Do you not know this World is not as Those? In this World, in Arda, there is no magic from before the dawn of time! The writer, the father of this world, is different to all those you have seen! There is no Deeper Magic in Middle-Earth! None! You die, and I rule!" His voice rose to a crescendo.

The crowd cheered again, more frenzied than before; they roared and headbanged and lolled their heads. Finally, the noise died out again at Anakron's bidding, and he spoke once more.

"And do you know the funniest thing of all, A Slan?" he whispered again, almost without moving his lips, into the creature's wispy ear. "I don't even rule here. I'm just a marionette."

A Slan said something, but the cord around his muzzle obscured his words. It sounded like "Bah Gah."

There was the greatest, most frenzied uproar yet, and the creatures all gathered around the helpless nameless shapeless timeless thing, poking it jabbing at it, tormenting it. A Slan wept.

Fléin took his eye off the scene for the first time and looked to Sai, remembering A Slan's final words. She was heaving, heavy sobs racking her body. He put her hand around her, trying to comfort her.

She slapped him. "What the Angband is wrong with you? What are you, a pervert?" But tears rolled down her face, and her words were but a squeal, a cry for comfort.

Then Fléin realised that tears were running down his face too, saturating his beard, and his sight was bleared. They embraced, both sobbing silently.

They could bear to watch no more, nor hear the hideous mocking of the beast any longer. Together, they turned and left and wept.

Last edited by the guy who be short; 01-31-2006 at 03:39 PM.
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Old 01-31-2006, 03:19 PM   #233
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Panakeia stumbled out of the theatre, hand over an aching wound in her chest. How she had managed to laugh during surgery was beyond her. Laughing gas, one of the Orcs explained, but Panakeia was not convinced. The mysterious materialization of the extra heart stumped her as well. Did its removal mean that her conscience was gone, vanished with the blue tray that had borne her second heart out of the operating room?

Hello? Are you still there? Silence. Was she gone? Panakeia decided to make a test. She retrieved her sample case, stowed carelessly at the theatre door by the Orcs, and set it up in the hallway. She tried to call out "Age Reducing Serum! Fountain of Youth in a Bottle!" But the words died in her throat.

Don't you see? I told you the extra heart was just a metaphor. The symbol of my return, if you will. I'm not located in your heart, but rather in your head. If anything, the surgery has brought us closer together. One heart will do for the both of us now.

"Time for your psychological testing! Here we go." An Orc caught her by the arm and led her away to an office and ushered inside. As she entered, she noted an odd sludge and a spot on the ceiling.

"Hello. I'm Dr. Jung."

"Wait. I thought I was supposed to see Dr. Sigmund."

"He is indisposed at the moment. Please, have a seat." Panakeia sat down.

"Tell me, do you dream?"

That was a dangerous question. It would lead straight to the voice that still echoed in her head if she wasn't careful.

"No. I never dream at all. Ow!" Panakeia had kicked her ankle. "Well, sometimes."

"What you do dream about."

"Oh, not much. Ouch!" She had kicked herself again.

Stop that. You'll get us committed.

Stop lying.

What do you expect me to do? Say that I carry on running conversations in my head? And that I've now started to assault myself?
Her hand flew at her wrist and slapped it, leaving the red imprint of five fingers behind.

Jung watched Panakeia, eyebrows arched. "You seem evasive. But I think you want to tell me something. You're fighting yourself. Why is that?"

"Don't (ouch) be ridiculous (ouch)." Panakeia was pulling her hair.

"We are getting nowhere. If you want help, you must be willing to talk to me."

Help? Maybe she did want help. If it would make the voice go away and let her return to her old ways. So close to leaving Mordor, Panakeia had started to think about her future. Scamming was the only way she knew to support herself, and her new friend would make that difficult. She told her story, beginning with her dream on the BilddyUnnergrind and ending in the office (what was that slimy mess everywhere?). All the while, Jung nodded and made notes in a black binder.

"Yes, yes. It is very clear. You dream of archetypes. You see a ruined house in the dark. You are hiding from something in your past, now it manifests in this new personality that torments you and these strange delusions. The haunted village…”

“Werewolves. Not ghosts.”

“Yes, werewolves. Interesting delusions. A very interesting case. I'm afraid you will need inpatient care until we get to the bottom of this."

"Inpatient care? For how long?"

"6 months, a year? Who can say? But we have made progress. At least now you will speak of these things. And so there is hope for your recovery." He pushed a button on an intercom. Several Orcs in white jackets appeared. "This lady will need to stay with us for a while."

"Wait, I don't like this at all. It's worse than surgery."

Neither do I. Get us out of this!

Me? You do it. This is your fault!


The psychiatrist shook his head. "You must be well before we can let you go." He nodded, and the Orcs took her off to the next room. A stack of papers sat on a table.

"Now then, we may begin. The Doctor said that you'll be with us for sometime."

"But I don't want to stay!"

"Involuntary?" The Orc shook his head. "Please don't say that. It's such a nuisance. All these papers need to be filled out, then we have to go to see a judge all the time, and, well, it gets complicated." Panakeia was shocked. She seemed to have found the one Orc in Mordor with a distaste for paperwork. "But look here!" He pulled out a single sheet and handed it to her. "If you'll just sign yourself into the hospital, it's just one page to copy and file. It would make me so much happier. Please, think it over."

Panakeia skimmed the document. Patient may leave at any time by giving 72 hours notice. Beautiful. That's our ticket out of here.

"Alright, I'll do it."

The Orc beamed and handed her a pen. "I knew you'd see the light."

Panakeia quickly edited the 72 hours notice line. With a swift stroke of the pen, it read 0.12 hours.

What are you doing?

Do you want me to get us out of this or not?


A smile spread over Panakeia's face. "Okay. I'm giving notice that I'll be leaving now. Which means I'll be going in approximately 7 minutes."

"What? No, you mean 72 hours."

"Think again. Look at the papers." Panakeia pointed to her editing job. "There you have it."

"But that's a mistake!" The Orc's eyes went wide.

"Even if it is, think of all the paperwork you'll have to go through to correct it. Besides, do I look dangerous? Just let me go."

The Orc stared at the pile of commitment papers, then at another pile of administrative procedure manuals titled "Correction of Official Document Errors - Volumes 1 to 15" and rubbed his eyes. "You got me. Just go." He opened the door.

"Thanks. See you around - not!" Panakeia was off like a bolt. Only a throbbing pain in her chest, the reminder of her recent surgery, stopped her from running all the way to the registrar’s office.
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Old 01-31-2006, 03:44 PM   #234
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Save

In which Wilhelmina gets her psychoanalysis... oh dear.
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Old 01-31-2006, 03:54 PM   #235
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SAVE: in which Alli is psycho-babbled at and registers for classes.
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Old 01-31-2006, 08:15 PM   #236
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SAVE: Panakeia gets a second opinion...and completes some unfinished business.
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Old 01-31-2006, 10:21 PM   #237
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SAVE: Because it's funny to see four saves in a row.
(seriously- Mardil gets arrested but names some terms first, exact details of Dr. Hookbill's death explained)
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Old 02-01-2006, 10:59 AM   #238
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[off topic/rpg post]

SAVE .... because they're assigned to Mordor. Now leave them where they are and everybody post after this; you may not touch the previous posts. Free for all! And thus LMP/Anakron unblocks the bottleneck. Carry on!

[/off topic/rpg post]
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Old 02-01-2006, 12:08 PM   #239
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Gasping for breath, Panakeia arrived at the Registrar's Office. She sat down on a bench outside the door to collect her thoughts. Though she had avoided a stay in the psychiatric hospital, she had a feeling that Anakron would not be happy with her behavior.

What should I do? she thought. I can't go back or I'll wind up in a padded room. I don't think they’ll give me the option of signing in twice. Not after the stunt I just pulled. But somehow, I have to get a clear evaluation to get out of here.

Maybe I should go back to see Dr. Sigmund. He's the one I was supposed to see anyway. But if I do that, you had better behave yourself this time. Deal?

I won't say a word. As long as you behave yourself too, my dear.

Okay. Let's give this another try.


Panakeia stood and began to return to the psychiatric department. As she started to leave, the Registrar's Office beckoned to her. It had been a fairly long run from the hospital. Not wanting to have made a wasted trip, she went inside to pick her classes. A basket near the door labeled Course Catalogs was empty, so she approached the nearest desk to ask for help.

"Excuse me. I'd like to sign up for a class," she said to a woman in horn-rimmed glasses.

"Do you have your course number?"

"No. I was hoping you could help me."

"What do I look like, the registrar?"

"As a matter of fact, you do." Panakeia pointed to a badge pinned on the woman's blouse. It said ‘Registrar’ in bold letters.

She replied huffily. "Always so demanding. Can't you lazy students do anything for yourselves?" As she spoke, she pulled out a long sheet of paper out of a drawer. "Here's a list of courses."

"Introduction to Fashion Design. That looks interesting."

"Filled." The registrar grinned smugly.

Panakeia's conscience chirped. Oh, oh. Look. Take the World Philosophy Class. Please?
"What about Philosophy 101?"

The registrar’s grin grew wider. "Canceled."

Panakeia cried out in exasperation, "Well, what is available?"

"Sales and Marketing in a Futile System, offered by the business department. Take it or leave it."

For once, Panakeia agreed with the nagging voice, which had started to protest against the course. The class sounded horribly boring, but it was the only option.

"Fine. Sign me up."

The registrar pulled out a slip of paper, scribbled the class name and information on it, and handed it to Panakeia.

"There. Are you happy now? Goodbye and good riddance." With that, the registrar stomped off to a back room.

Satisfied that she had managed to find a class, if not the one she wanted, Panakeia went to look for Dr. Sigmund.
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Old 02-01-2006, 12:52 PM   #240
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Alli, uncertain of what just happened pertaining to her surgery and her save, walked down the hall in a daze and in search of the office of the registrar. She was sick of dazes and really wanted to get on with her life. It was as if she no longer had any control. Things just seemed to happen... She stepped on something squishy.

"MIGHIODEHGOI!" it mumbled beneath her foot. She shrieked and jumped off of it, sliding a little on the bloody floor that had not quite been cleaned yet.

"You ah repressing my voice because you cannot handle zee truth!"

Alli looked at the pair of disembodied lips incredulously. "It was an accident. I tripped."

"A Freudian slip! She's een denial. Can you hear her? She's denying zat she meant to stamp out zee truth from zee vorld!"

All's left eyebrow rose. "Let me guess... Sigmund? Poor Freud, whatever happened to you?"

"Skirting the issue! Zee patient tries to deflect attention to anuzzer. According to my iceberg approach to zee human mind, your unconsciously violent motives caused you to step on me, inflicting pain and stopping me from bringing to zee conscious level of your thought zee truth that it is your shameful experiences, unacceptable sexual desires, irrational wishes, and selfish needs that are causing you to remain fixated upon phallism."

"What?!" Alli couldn't believe her ears. People actually listened to this guy? "God... can your ego get any bigger? Do you really think that what you're saying is real?"

"Aha! Zee patient has an underdeveloped superego veech ees allowing her id to run free."

"You're insane." She looked laughingly down at the bouncing lips upon the dirty floor. "And you're splashing blood on my shoes."

"Projection!"

"Listen, I think you're just--"

"Rationalization!"

"You're only saying that because--"

"Reaction formation! Denial!"

Alli, finished with her psych evaluation whether Freud was or not, kicked the blustering piece of psychoanalyst under a nearby doorway and slipped through the closing doors to the Registrar's office. The line was long. Alli stood impatiently for nearly an hour before a large orc said sweetly to her, "I can help the next person."

She stepped forward. "I'd like to take Werewolf Hunting 1000."

"Full. That little Italian fellow in red just took the last seat." Alli startled and looked around. She saw nobody dressed in red. It was okay... she couldn't find Aimè to proclaim her love anyhow. But he was here... he was on campus... she would have to tell Aimè.

"What about..." she consulted her wish-list. "Border Control: Keeping Bad Guys In."

"Full."

"How to Deal with Nobles 1010?"

"Nope."

"Basket-weaving?"

"Yeah right."

"Well what do you have open?"

"Theology of Dollar Llama."

"Baaa." spake Illamatar. "Take that one."

"I'll take that one." Alli bumped into a large troll on her way out the door.

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