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Old 01-14-2006, 10:38 AM   #121
Feanor of the Peredhil
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Quite unexpectedly, Alli both double posted and fell asleep. It wasn't for long, but the dreams were filled with terror and darkness, cut through by a piercing light.

She walked through a valley, shadowed by death, and felt no evil whatsoever since she was fully aware that it was a dream. "Itsa me, Màrîo!" intoned an obnoxiously fake Italian sounding voice. Suddenly bagpipes played out in shining glory and Alli could hear words within them.

Seek for the Kilt that was broken:
On a Scotsman it dwells;
There shall be side-plots taken
Stranger than Morgul-spells.
There shall be given a token
That He is near at hand,
For Hookbill's Bane shall waken,
And a Hero forth shall stand.

Alli woke up, shaking her head. That was the stupidest dream she'd ever had. It didn't even make sense. Well, it sort of did... she'd been worried about this Màrîo since she'd first heard his name spoken by Roggie. She'd fallen asleep just after reading more of him. He was a national hero... and yet she distrusted him. It was no wonder, really, that she'd dreamt of him. But doubleyooteeyef did the rest mean? Was she supposed to go after this kilt-clad creep that she had only her gut instinct to tell her wasn't completely insane? Should she ignore her instincts in favor of what the group believed? But she didn't trust anybody in the group, except for Sai. Her dream had been compelling... she wanted to know more about him. She'd seen things in the back of her mind as she dozed that made her wonder. But he was only a name in a magazine. It wasn't like she'd actually meet him... she was too busy. She had too many problems already without being caught up in a mysterious side-plot. She just wanted to go home...

"It was only a dream..." she murmered to herself before turning to Sai. "How long until we land?"
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Old 01-14-2006, 02:10 PM   #122
Celuien
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It was an uncharacteristically quiet Panakeia who sat behind the wheel, struggling to focus on the drive to Lost Angles. This business of her new feelings towards Valde was most annoying.

They drove on. Panakeia knit her brow together. As usual for Mordor, traffic was terrible and she wasn't entirely sure of where she was going. A bad thing when gas supplies are running low and you don't really know where the next station is either. A question from Valde as to the certainty of her navigation further irritated her, and she snapped at him to look for signs leading the way to Lost Angles, then snapped again when he proceeded to call out the contents of every last sign at the edge of the road, right down to the advertisements for Raglú. She berated herself internally. Oh, why had she done that? Showing her short temper to Valde was the last thing she wanted to do.

They finally found the exit for Lost Angles. With one problem temporarily solved, she at last had enough presence of mind to reattempt conversation, carefully staying on the topic of their quest. That was safe enough.

With a sudden swerve, Panakeia pulled on to the Debauchémain Street of Lost Angles and sped along, at last coming to a halt just a few blocks from the Cultivation Center. She knew that a gathering would soon take place there. They had only missed one at the Mount Doom Resort by a few days. But a leaflet and other literature about the cult posted on the Casino grounds had given the location of the next meeting. Thus, she had excellent information for Shatner's whereabouts tucked away in her pocket. Indeed, the ceremonies were scheduled to begin within the hour. Their arrival had been right on time.

As they started out of the Cruiser, Valde offered Panakeia his arm. Her heart skipped a couple of beats. So polite. A little overly formal, yes, but absolutely charming. I wonder...Formality as a mask for a soft heart? She looked at him hopefully, but said nothing of her secret thoughts. Instead, she gave a somewhat belated answer to his earlier questions.

"Well. I'm going after one William Shatner's legendary hairpiece. I'm sure it'll be a challenge, but I think I can manage it. Actually, you've given me the idea for how to snatch it."

"Really?"

"Yes. I've never sold him makeup or anything like that before. But, I think if I offer him a new poultice or something, I can get him to remove the toupee. Just for a second. And then..." She rubbed her hands together gleefully. "Then, it's mine."

Valde eyed her doubtfully. "Are you sure you aren't a member of the cult? You seem a little too interested in this Shatner character."

Could he possibly be jealous? "Oh no. Of course not. Not in the least. But I am eager to get my prize for Anakron. One step closer to leaving Mordor, you know. Going home. Getting on with life. Aren't you?" She hoped Valde would open up to her, just a little bit.

"I suppose." Silence followed.

"Well. Well. So, you're after Spockú's eyebrows?" Valde nodded in the affirmative. "Even more difficult than the toupee. But I think I can help." Panakeia tapped her sample case. "There are waxing and plucking supplies aplenty in there, though I can't imagine how you're going to get him to agree to using them."

"You'll see." The reply was given with an air of mystery and a grand flourish befitting a Lead Tragic Actor.

That final exchange brought the pair to the door of the Cultivation Center. "Here we are," said Panakeia. "Before we go in, there are just a few tips." She pulled out her flyer and a small book detailing the rituals of the cult and turned to a page marked by a folded corner.

"Never, ever call Shatner Shatner. To his followers, his name is Kirk. Or Captain. Or Jim to those of high rank in the cult. To say anything else would be sacrilege. Watch out for the ones in the red shirts. They're a special guard and will be carefully protecting both Shatner and Spockú. And finally, don't let Spockú's hand touch your shoulder. He is rumored to have strange powers and I wouldn't want anything to happen...I mean we can't have anything happen here to interfere with our task. And once we get what we came for, we run straight back to the Cruiser and take off. Okay?"

"Agreed."

With that, Panakeia and Valde walked up to the Cultivation Center entrance and knocked on the door. A red shirted guard answered. "What is the password?"

"Password?" Panakeia was nearly floored. Would they be denied admission after coming so close? But, like a flash, the answer came to her. Of course, that must be it. It's printed in such big letters on the flyer.

Without any further hesitation, she looked the guard in the eye. "Beam me up, Scotty." He nodded, and the pair passed through the doorway, a little closer to the completion of their mission, though their greatest challenge, the actual claiming of the trophies, was still ahead.

***

Inside, the festivities were in full swing, though the main attraction, the arrival of the honored duo, Kirk and Spockú, was still awaited. A particularly excited electricity snapped through the room, for it was whispered that Kirk and Spockú would be joined by a third member of their crew, the famed Dr. McBones. The guests (all but the two intruders) had come dressed as their honored demi-gods. Several, who were clad in blue, sported pointed ears and thick, obviously synthetic eyebrows. Panakeia was about to lecture them on the proper use of eyebrow pencils when she recalled that she was the one out of place.

Suddenly an excited shout rose from the crowd. Kirk, Spockú and Dr. McBones had arrived with a large group of the ubiquitous red shirted guards. They were immediately pressed in upon from all sides by their worshippers, who thrust pictures, books and smooth, strange objects at them to be signed. Several fainted. Panakeia and Valde were left at the back of the crowd.

"How are we ever going to get in close enough?" cried Valde.

"I'm not sure. Let me try something." She pulled out the flyer and scribbled a message on the back. Handing it to a guard, she begged him deliver it to the Captain. He did. And a few minutes later, Valde and Panakeia were ushered into the presence of the famed adventurers.

"What did you write," hissed Valde.

"Never mind just now," Panakeia returned through a clenched smile. They were now but 5 feet away from their target. "Take this. You may need it." She handed Valde a small packet of Hair Snatcher Wax.

"Captain! What an honor to meet you!" Panakeia put on her brightest smile. Kirk held her note in his hand.

"Is it..true? What...you said?" He waved the message.

Panakeia smiled even more broadly. "Of course it is. Will you try?"

"I will. She may approach."

"Jim! Be careful! Can't you see she's lying?" This came from McBones.

"Well, just because you couldn't..."

"I'm a doctor, Jim, not a miracle-worker."

Spockú would have said something just then, but he seemed busy talking to Valde.

Panakeia stepped closer. Just a few more inches. Then, her hand went out and snatched the toupee. She turned and fled, breaking through a line of red shirted guards, who, despite making numerous attempts, were strangely unable to stop her. "Run!" she shouted as red lights flashed over her head and Kirk ran in pursuit of his head covering. As Panakeia ran out into the sunlight, now followed by a crowd of the cult members and the red shirted guards, she couldn't see if Valde was behind her or not. She hoped he would escape safely.

Last edited by Celuien; 01-14-2006 at 05:20 PM.
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Old 01-14-2006, 08:38 PM   #123
Durelin
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Still confounded as to how exactly Panakeia had managed to get the two of them in the presence of the most honored Captain and his Spockú, Valde did not waste time considering the possibilities. He approached Spockú and flourished a bow. “I am a great admirer of your work. Never have I seen a mind more large and swollen with brilliance than yours, particularly between a pair of pointed ears.” He knew flattery was the best way to get someone to trust you. It was only logical. And of course it was only logical for everyone to simply be in awe of this ultimate Vulcan.

“Thank you…?”

“Valde,” he said, supplying the Lord of the Brow with his name. He was mesmerized by those dark streaks, twisting up and ending in a slight point. He knew they were not natural. He knew they were a fabrication of dark forces. They irked him so much that he barely saw Spockú reach out with his hand, moving it slowly toward Valde’s shoulder. But his reflexes were quick, and Valde removed the Vulcan hand from anywhere near him.

“You have passed my test. It is logical to assume that you if you admire me, you k now my ways. And since it seems that you know my ways, then you must admire me.”

Of course. It made perfect sense. Valde wasn’t about to tell him otherwise, anyway. Instead, having gained his trust, he made his move.

“Oh my goodness!” he shouted, springing toward Spockú. “Sir, there are a pair of tribbles on your forehead!”

“Great Scotty! Where?!” The Vulcan shouted, flailing.

“On your forehead, sir.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right.” The pointy-eared man reached up to his face.

“Here, let me pluck them off of you, sir. Just relax. I happen to have the tribble removal kit you used in episode 74.”

Spockú dropped his arms. “I had a special kit for that? Well aren’t I clever.”

“Quick, close your eyes, sir, before their hair particles get in them.”

Valde then turned searchingly to see if he could acquire some kind of help. Dr. McBones approached him, seeing the look of inquiry on his face. “How can I heat this up?” he hissed.

“Here, let me nuke it,” McBones replied. Valde handed over the container of wax with an incredulous look on his face.

“Nuke it?”

“Scotty has a microwave.”

“Ah.”

He turned back to Spockú, who still had his eyes shut. It seemed Valde had made a logical enough argument concerning the tribbles, though logic of course came in many forms across the galaxies. For now, Valde decided to keep himself busy and his victim convinced that there were indeed two small furry animals on his forehead by using the tweasers. How that would do the latter he was not sure, but he began to pluck away at the Vulcan’s eyebrows, anyway.

“Ow!” Spockú exclaimed befittingly. “Hurry up! Those things always did have a nasty bite. That was a bite, wasn’t it?”

“Quite. No blood yet, though, sir. And we’re getting there. Everything’s almost set up for their sticky gooey fate.”

“Sticky gooey? I seem to recall using something like grains…”

“You used a number of preserves, as well, though.”

Valde felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Dr. McBones holding out the container of wax. He couldn’t help himself, and he beamed at him very unlike a Lead Tragic Actor. After taking the wax from him, though, he furrowed his brow in a deep concentration that was much more suitable to his role, and scowled slightly at recalling the smile. He wondered what Panakeia would think of him is she had seen that – she probably would have thought he was a joke. She’d think he was just another silly man who found joy in love and life and food and cute fuzzy little animals and pretty faces. The thought was horrifying.

“Goodness, that is gooey. And how warm. You really didn’t have to go and cook them fresh for me.”

Valde snapped out of his thoughts and realized that he had put quite enough wax on the left furry arch. Grabbing a conveniently pre-cut cloth strip from the kit, he pressed it firmly on the waxed area.

“There, all set for getting the first one. Ah, and he’s gone for it!” Valde commentated, and then pulled ‘in the direction opposite the hair growth’ as instructed.

“By the Borg! Are you sure that wasn’t a furry leech?!”

Valde peered at the cloth he had ripped off Spockú’s face and snickered. Looking at the Vulcan he had to stifle a stream of giggles. He looked lopsided. But quickly any humour Valde found in the situation turned to pure horror. He had reached up to clutch the left side of his face at the stinging pain. It was a natural reaction, of course, as Valde had failed to place any pressure on the area after he pulled the strip off. Perhaps he should have read the directions more carefully.

“What in the Enterprise…?” Spockú questioned while feeling the obvious hairlessness of his left brow. “What have you done?!”

“Run!” Valde heard Panakeia shout, and he silently agreed, racing after her with the conveniently pre-cut strip of cloth dangling from his hand, now stuck to it quite firmly. At least he would get half his points, even if Anakron was not feeling understanding. After a daring escape, the two contestants were on their way back to the Mount Doom Casino and Resort. Both their kamuramen had somehow escaped with them. Valde was disappointed, and questioned them as to whether they had simply stayed in the car the entire time. But, of course, they claimed to have gotten Valde and Panakeia’s entire escapade on their kamuras. Valde scowled as he carefully pried the hair-infested piece of cloth off his hand.

Last edited by Durelin; 01-16-2006 at 10:56 AM.
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Old 01-15-2006, 02:17 AM   #124
Encaitare
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With the huge Star Map clutched in her wrinkled hands, Wilhelmina walked down the street, scanning it for Club Pârís. "Let's see," she said as the bottles in her pockets clanked. "The Opposite of Soft Stone Restaurant? No... Hemisemidemi Moore? No... Planet Trollywood? No... aha! There it is!" To her dismay, the club was on the other side of the resort. Glancing at a conveniently placed scrolling sign which displayed the time, temperature, and velocity of an unladen sparrow, she realized that she probably couldn't make it if she walked... and she didn't feel like driving again. Ever.

So what to do?

"Move it, lady!" someone said loudly, bustling past her. Apparently she had stopped right in the middle of the busy sidewalk while lost in thought. 'I'm behaving like a ruddy tourist with this map and just stopping short in the middle of the sidewalk... how foolish of me,' she thought, and then realized that could work, too.

~*~*~*~*~

Wilhelmina had decided not to sit on the top level of the double-decker tour bus, but was now regretting it. Rabid tourists with flashing cameras, sunglasses, and too much sunscreen were pressed up against the windows. They kept turning to her and exclaiming "Isn't that something!" and "We'll have to remember to tell the kids about that!" One man actually kept poking her and pointing to various buildings and nondescript lamp-posts in his excitement. "You know," she said severely, "I went to Nü Yawk once. And if you stop to point at things there, you get trampled. Do you know there's a huge glob of sunscreen on your nose? Oh, you did. Never mind, then."

Finally, she could take it no more, and she climbed the narrow stairs up to the top, where there were just as many rabid tourists, but a bit more fresh air. The kamura-orc, which had been goodnaturedly braving the tourists, seemed relieved. A bored-sounding orc was pointing out the sights, and for once Wilhelmina was glad she was going a bit deaf.

She pulled the brim of her hat down over her ears and kept a lookout for the club. Around her, people shouted and carried on and hurried down the street to their various destinations. She should have felt lucky she had the opportunity to get out of Mordor, and yet she felt rather lonely amidst all these rushing, insufferable people. She found herself missing Fléin, in fact. The cat-upchucking Dwarf had a certain charm.

She felt someone prodding her, and was about to whack the offending tourist with her walking stick. But it was only the kamuraorc. "Cwub Pâwís! It's wight thewe!" he was saying. Wilhelmina grinned, and the two of them grabbed the leash that an anxious mother was using to tether her child, and heroically swung off the top of the bus, both hoping they'd never have to experience such a wretched form of travel again.

"So now what?" asked the kamuraorc.

"Now," said Wilhelmina mysteriously, "we set the bait." All aura of mystery vanished as she produced a package of dog biscuits from her pocket. Carefully, she laid them on the ground in a trail from the door. She then took Panakeia's perfumes and did the same thing in the opposite direction.

"Woo awe going to wuwe hew out?"

"Yes... but first we're going to lure her dog out."

"How do woo know it wiww wowk?" the orc asked doubtfully.

"The dog'll smell the treats and come out, and she'll come chasing after it. Plus, you've got a kamura. People like her are complete kamurahôres. Most celebrities are." Wilhelmina hoped very much that she sounded like she knew what she was talking about. She didn't want to blow it and get no points... whatever the points meant, anyway.

~*~*~*~*~

After a duration of time which shall remain undefined so as to maintain some small aura of mystery, an obnoxious yapping sound was heard. And just a few moments after that, a rat in GooChee clothing burst out of a doggie door, having smelled the treats.

"Tinkerbell! Tinkerbell!" a woman cried, tripping along in gleaming pink heels. "Tinkerbell, come back to Mommy!" Then the shiny baubles caught her eye, and the pair were like kids in a candy shop, or happy anime characters with sparkles the size of galaxies in their eyes. "That's hot, said Pârís Hiltôn as she picked up the shinies one by one.

Wilhelmina gestured to the kamuraorc, who hastily ran to the end of the perfume trail, film rolling. Pârís Hiltôn looked up at the lens, said "Hi," and continued to smile vaguely in that direction like someone who has too much money and not enough purpose in life. And while Tinkerbell gobbled up the last of the treats, Wilhelmina unscrewed the cap of the Pearie Ockcide Potion and poured the contents on the dog's tail. She then proceeded to shout in horror.

"Oh! Oh! Ms. Hiltôn! Your dog!"

"She's adorable," Pârís Hiltôn said serenely, as though she were in her own little sunshine-and-rainbow world and the rest of them weren't allowed in.

"But she's sick!"

Immediately she was at the dog's side. "My Tink? My Tinky-Winky? What's the matter with my puppy-wuppy?"

"Her tail's gone blonde!" Wilhelmina fussed. "She must have... er... dog flu," she concluded lamely. Dog flu? Wherever did she come up with that? Now she had to go with it, though. "Yes, the dog flu can be fatal! I'd better take her to a doctor!"

"I thought you were a doctor," said Pârís Hiltôn.

"What?" Wilhelmina said confusedly.

"You must be a doctor... you know about diseases. That's what doctors do, right?"

"Sweetie," said Wilhelmina as kindly as she could, "I'm no doctor. I'm sure we all know about a good number of diseases."

"Maybe I should go with Tinkerbell..."

"No! That's just fine!" Wilhelmina dug in her pocket and drew out the mirror she had purchased. "Here! Occupy yourself with this!"

"That's hot," said Pârís Hiltôn as she vapidly stared at her own reflection.

"How shouwd we get back to the hotew?" asked the orc.

Wilhelmina looked around, and her eyes settled on something that was black, shiny, and at least three times longer than it really needed to be. "How about by limo?"
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Old 01-15-2006, 09:23 AM   #125
Kath
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Sai had not minded that Alli wouldn’t be very sociable throughout the flight. She had always enjoyed being able to sit by a window and watch as the world went by beneath her, and a lack of distractions would make that easier. So she sat in a window seat (for once blessedly empty), pressed her nose against the glass and remained happily amused that way for a good few hours.

She was so enthralled that she started when Alli spoke, not having realised that she was awake. She looked over and noted that the girl seemed worried about something, but by this time knew better than to ask what it was.

“Not long.” She replied. “We’ve been getting lower for a while now so . . .”

Her words were interrupted as the wheels of the plane suddenly hit the ground without warning. Sai and Alli were thrown forward but managed to catch themselves before they fell out of their chairs. From the screams coming through the floor, those below in the cargo hold weren’t so lucky. The plane came to stop a few minutes later, and Sai finally stopped clutching the arms of her seat. She saw Alli release her equally white-knuckled grip and the two of them slowly stood up, hoping their shaky legs would hold them up.

“I’ll go get the others out of the hold.” Sai offered, needing to get onto stable earth as quickly as possible (or at least as stable as was possible in Mordor). “You can go ‘thank’ our pilot.”

Alli nodded and headed towards the front of the plane. Sai climbed down the stairs that must either have travelled with them the entire journey or had just mysteriously appeared out of thin air, as there was no one around who could have put them there. She opened the door to the hold and as she did she was knocked over backwards as a body fell on top of her. Scrambling out from underneath Sai laughed as she realised it was Tom. The poor boy had been sitting with his back right up against the door so he could escape as quickly as possible. Hauling him to his feet she began to lead him away from the plane and his new fangirls followed right behind.

They made their way to the specified meeting point, Alli joining them about halfway through the journey. Depositing Tom, the fangirls and the box in front of Anakron, Sai and Alli waited for the rest of the group to arrive.
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Old 01-15-2006, 12:12 PM   #126
littlemanpoet
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Anakron almost smiled. Alli and Sai had returned early, with their most valuables and more to boot. Very good.

"I see you have Rowling's bad-boy (but no Rowling which doesn't matter as how could you since she is otherwise occupied) and Bloom's fangirls, Alli. Well done. And without Mardil's help. More than enough. Certainly more than one, or three. Not to mention your extra curricular activities. Ten points." Sai was casting her glance between Alli and Anakron, mystified as to what extra curricular activities Anakron referred to.

"Never you mind, my dear Sai; you have more than enough to concern yourself with, let me assure you." So speaking, he lifted his staff. "Let the Dweomer be activated as is most appropriate at this time in the case of Sai."

Suddenly Sai's kamuraorc stepped up beside her, staring at her with his big, bloodshot eyes all soft and gooey (well, ***** actually), grinning stupidly. "I've been meaning to tell woo, that woo awe the howse-apple -" Suddenly his eyes went big and his greenish face went completely green. "Ulp!" he said, and hurled all over Sai.

"Yuck!" Sai yelled.

The kamuraorc's eyes widened. "How did woo know the mating call of the female owc!?" He grinned and retched again.

Anakron clicked his tongue. "Control yourself, Lurge!"

"Sowwy, siw."

"Some of these anakronisms are just so appealing," Anakron murmured. "At least, Sai, you have done most admirably in disabusing JLo of her - ahem - slightly overabundant assets. Ten points."

Anakron turned to the Siamese Cat atop his staff. "Tell me, Sylvester, how do Panakeia and Valde fare? And don't spit while you talk."

The cat became furry and black and white with an oversized nose and eyes and couldn't keep his tongue in his cheeks. "She's falling for him but thtaying on her own two feet. He's getting all fowled up-" here Sylvester grinned.

"I said, don't spit when you speak."

"Thorry."

"There you go again."

"Thorry again," Sylvester grimaced. "Anyway, he's getting all fowled up with Drekkies."

"No doubt Panakeia will rescue him somehow, as he will no doubt need it once he has disabused Spockú of his Lord Foul Brow. Ah, I feel another dweomer coming on. Cat, return to your former state."

"Awww!" Sylvester bawled, and became part of the staff again.

"Panakeia shall try to flirt and thus hurl."

Alli's hand went to her hip. "Is that it?! How unoriginal!"

"Do not speak of unoriginal, as very soon, once Mardil can be found, I foresee you relinquishing Balrog fur through your food orifice."

Her eyes went wide with horror. "No! Not that! Anything but that! You're so cruel!"

"But of course. I taught the likes of you before I was ensconced in my current disposition. Now go distract yourselves with your ill-gotten most valuables. I promise you, Orlando and JLo are not happy and are hot on your tails. So tuck them and run. And Lurge, don't drool.

"One last thing, Alli and Sai, after you've taken care of Tom, Orlando, JLo, Lurge, and assorted mindless twits of the female gender, be back here spot on sundown. Kapiche?"

Off they ran. Not a moment too soon, as up came an entire crew of Trollywood sets, actors, kamuraorcs, and all assorted hangers-on thereof. And Bleater Quackson, of course.

"We're ready for the big scene!" Bleater said.

"Have all the bureaucratic red tape and actors' contracts been completed?

"Yes!"

"Roggie's and Queen Quon's as well?"

"Of course!"

"And J.K.'s?"

But of course! I never overlook any detail, even if it doesn't belong."

"Well then, get on with it."

Bleater turned to his crew and gave the order, then pointed at what was left of Mount Doom. "Roll!" he shouted.

On the southern slope was Queen Quon, using two clawed feet and one hand to climb while holding something in the other.... which happened to be gesticulating madly and screaming at the top of its lungs.

"Rowling, I presume?" asked Anakron.

"But of course! They wouldn't let me direct her films, so this is turn about fair play!"

On the north face climbed Roggie, also holding something in his fist. Only, this particular 'thing' was watching everything that happened with a bored look in his eyes, his chin resting on his elbow, disdaining to show the least bit of excitement regarding his predicament.

"Mardil, I presume?" asked Anakron.

"Yes! And thanks!"

"He agreed?"

"He said he always wanted to be an actor in a movie. Now he gets his chance."

"He doesn't seem to be enjoying it."

"That's the way he's supposed to play it."

Anakron shrugged and waited for the moment when the two monsters would see each other over the crest of what was left of Mount Doom; not to mention, what would happen when Mardil was confronted with Rowling.

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Old 01-15-2006, 01:17 PM   #127
Encaitare
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“How do I know you’re not a pair of dognappers,” the driver asked suspiciously.

Wilhelmina held up the yapping dog, displaying its bleached tail. “Tinkerbell has the dog flu!” she told him. “I’m Miss Hiltôn’s spiritual advisor, dearie; we’re very close, and she’s given me special instructions to take the poor puppy to the resort hotel where she can see a doctor friend of ours. I knew this would happen, of course,” she added. “It’s been in the stars for months.”

“And who are you?” the driver asked the kamuraorc.

“Uh… just fiwming, siw. Hewe to make suwe Tinkewbeww is tweated pwopewwy.” The orc glanced nervously at Wilhelmina and she nodded ever so slightly. Maybe the orc wasn’t a complete loss.

“Okay, then. I’ll take you to the hotel.” The driver opened the door, and Wilhelmina, the kamuraorc, and Tinkerbell (and Mr. Swanky, deep in the recesses of Wilhelmina’s hat) got inside.

“Thank you, young man.”

“No problem,” he said, getting into the front seat and promptly changing into an orc. “I’ll get you there in no time – I drive fast.”
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Old 01-15-2006, 02:56 PM   #128
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Fléin emerged, or so it seemed to the baffled orc, from nowhere. In one hand, at arm's length, he held a net with something large and round within. In the other arm, shoved against his chest and pressed to his body as well as held in his hands, was... gold. Lots of gold. The orc felt something wet splat on his foot, only to find that he had started drooling.

"Oi, you sod! Get over here!" the Dwarf bellowed across the field at him. All the birds around the park took off in fright, and the bandy-legged little creature snuffled across the grass to him. He noticed that the round thing-in-the-bag had started wriggling around at the noise, and approached with not a little apprehension.

"Carry all this, will you?" Fléin shouted at him over the twittering of Sparrow, and dropped all the gold on the ground. "And don't try and steal any... I've counted it all up.

The orc took possession of the gold - in the form of sceptres, crowns and necklaces, mostly - while Fléin bashed the Sparrow on the head to render it unconscious once more, shutting it up. He could feel the orc's curiosity, but decided to ignore it in the hope that the orc would know better than to disturb him.

"What'th that thpar-"

"WHY?"

"What?"

"Why, why, my orc, do you insist on bantering?" The Dwarf shook his head so ferociously that Sparrow woke up again, and added his twittering to Fléin's frustration, forcing him to shout. "Why must you speak? Just act. Your purpose is not to speak."

He threw a disgusted look at the orc, who duly started picking up the gold, and then turned it to the squeaky Sparrow. "And if you don't shut up, Jack, I'll bash your head it and spit roast you. Bringing you back alive wasn't part of my contract." The bird too shut up, and Fléin suddenly felt a lot happier.

Five hours later (he had had to wait for a bus, after all) he was back at the resort, a bird in the hand, and showing it to Anakron.
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Old 01-15-2006, 05:18 PM   #129
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Alli nodded appreciatively at Anakron's mention of her extra curricular activities. She was pretty sure that she knew what he was talking about... but wasn't sure if he did. Actually, she wasn't sure if she did... or if he knew what she knew that he knew and thought she didn't know. It got very confusing sometimes, trying to keep straight what only she knew, as well as how many "knews" went in what sentence and if she'd gotten them in the right order to convey the correct meaning, what she'd shared with a few people, and what people were perceptive enough to pick up without help. Just to be sure, she nodded again and grinned.

As she watched the rest of the scene unfold, she thought it high time for a hot drink. It was getting cold and she'd been in a miraculously good mood for several hours now. Why hadn't she been brooding? Eh, it wasn't important. She had other things to think about. That dream, for one. Was that a flash of red in the crowd? No... of course not... now she was just being paranoid.

Somewhat relieved that the fangirls had found new eye-candy (Mardil was looking appealing to them and Tom was looking terrified to her), Alli led him to a small cafè she'd spotted while she was zoning out during Anakron's narrative.

"Here." She offered Tom a cup of coffee strong enough to knock him off of his feet and ordered a small cup of Earl Grey for herself, with just a bit of lemon. She turned and her attention caught on a cloaked figure in the corner. Not Khamul... she thought. Too tall. Also, he didn't try to kill me on sight, and that's tradition. We don't break tradition... it's too fun.

She continued to look at him for a moment before walking over, Tom behind her, still looking shocked and slightly frightened, and speaking.

"Excuse me... do I know you?"

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Old 01-16-2006, 05:07 AM   #130
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The man looked at Alli with that hint of malevolence associated with all mysterious new characters. Turning away, he said "No, we have never met."

She persisted. "Well, maybe we've never met but I know you from somewhere, don't I? Your accent now—it seems quite unusual for Mordor. Where do I recognise you from?" She smiled coquettishly. The small boy behind her stared away uncomfortably.

He looked at her again but kept his mouth shut. It had to be an inquisitive teenage girl, didn't it? Even with this ridiculous black cloak that he was wearing, the man could not escape this sort of attention. Perhaps if he hadn't been in hiding he would have toyed with her a bit; but he was in no mood for that kind of behaviour today. "My odd voice is a consequence of a sore throat I suffered whilst arguing with a group of particularly obnoxious people. You do not recognise me, missy. Why do you suspect me?" This he said, getting very defensive and thus appearing even more suspicious than he had initially.

"Don't toy with me" said the girl; and while the man pondered the coincidence of her using that phrase after he had consciously been trying not to toy with her, he let his guard down for the quick follow-up: "My name's Alli, what's yours?"

"Eo—mmm....." he mumbled pathetically. "Um, yes. My name is Aimé."

"Aimé?" she replied incredulously. "You can end this charade, mister. I know who you are." Her look of triumph suggested wit, elegance, a touch of sweetness and a lot of vanity.

The man bowed his head sheepishly, forgetting for the moment that Aimé was an altogether nice and genuine name in the time and place he had come from. He stared at the tea-cup and reflected on his time in Mordor. It had not been brilliant fun. Sure there were good aspects about being here: he had been lucky enough to have a couple of chats with Plato, of all people; and his enjoyment of rap and country music had been more than adequately catered for. But good relationships were so hard to find here among the Orcs. And now this inviting young lady had fallen into his hands at a time when it was necessary to shun all others in order to maintain his freedom. It was just so unfair.

"I'm terribly sorry, miss, but I must leave" he said as he stood up. The girl just kept that funny look on her face, which irritated the man something awful. He displayed one of his bad habits in response, sticking his tongue out at the girl, and swirled around dramatically to storm off. But the girl glanced at a clock on the wall and stood up quickly, herself.

"[Expletive deleted]" she exclaimed, "I appear to be running late. I'll have to get out of here too. Grabbing the terrified young boy by the arm, she strode over to the as-yet-unidentified man, who was nearing the exit.

"Did I say leave? O I do believe I meant to say that I must stay here until you are out of sight." He tramped back over to the table and slouched down into the chair in a sulk.

The girl (along with a few objective observers) shook her head in bemusement and left.
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Old 01-16-2006, 08:14 AM   #131
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From the distance there emerged a small form that raced toward the party. At first they thought it was a squirrel or possibly a wolf. Aime or Eomer, the party was still not sure what he was to be called, cried out that it looked like a small dog. "No!" replied Alli, "It's not a dog, although it is oddly shaped like one. I think instead that it is a....I think....a professor!"

Sure enough, as the figure grew near they could make out that while it had the face of a pug, it had the body of a normal Man. Upon his head there was a fedora and at his waist there hung a whip. He stopped before them and bowed deeply. Pulling himself erect he cried:

"I have thought of a profound question! Why do Dwarven women have beards? Is it because:

a) they want to keep warm

b) they need somewhere to keep their soup

c) the author felt that beards on Dwarven women was the best way to transmit Faerie to the reader

d) that's just the way it is?"
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Old 01-16-2006, 11:05 AM   #132
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As they raced their way back onto the highway in their PT Cruiser, they showed each other their winnings. Panakeia brandished Kirk’s toupee with glee, and Valde held out the conveniently pre-cut strip of cloth with much less enthusiasm.

“I was a fool. I didn’t read the directions carefully enough.”

“It’s not your fault,” Panakeia said, trying to make him feel better. “It’s just that you’re a man. You know how it is…”

“Yes, I do know what it is like to be a man,” he replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes to make it clear that he did not fit the male stereotype, in most cases.

“That’s not quite what I meant,” she responded with an eye roll that far outmatched Valde’s.

“I know,” he said, in a remarkably Han Solo-like way. “There.”

“There what?”

“There’s our exit.”

Panakeia swerved over several lanes of traffic in order to reach the exit ramp, coming dangerously close to the Jersey barriers, which Valde had always thought was a football team until he got such a good look at them. When they arrived back at the resort, he started to wish that they had stayed with the Jersey barriers.

“It’s Queen Quon!” Panakeia exclaimed, but quickly fell silent in order to park the car in a designated space.

“And Roggie. But where’s CoDzilla*? Oh, wait, nevermind, it’s Bleater Quackson. Most likely he’s made a replacement in order to use up his budget.” He hopped out of the car, and motioned to Panakeia. “Come on, it’s safe. It’s only rated PG-13.”

So they made their way toward where a vast array of production equipment was set up, and Quackson himself was sitting in his director’s chair, taking the long way around, distancing themselves from the filming. Sure enough, Anakron was amidst that mess. It also seemed that Alumìne Umfuìl and Sai Onara had already arrived; Valde was disappointed, as he thought that he and Panakeia had made good time. A large crowd of young girls who all wore their hair the same way were screeching nearby. Roggie’s fangirls, perhaps? As long as they only admired his gloomily handsome features at a distance, he would be happy.

“Greetings, Grand Anakron,” he proclaimed as he approached Anakron. “Panakeia and I have arrived largely successful and unscathed.” He glanced at the monstrous forms of Queen Quon and Roggie. “Are we interrupting anything?” He asked sarcastically, holding the precious cloth strip in the palm of his hand and holding it close to him, not ready to unveil it yet. Anakron may view the world as a B-rated sci-fi film, but Valde would stick to his tragedy.

But then suddenly another man approached. At least, Valde considered him enough of a man to be called one, though his face appeared as if it were some kind of dog’s that had been hit head on by a very large truck. He had never seen a dog carry a whip, much less wear a hat (obviously he had never been to San Francisco), and so he decided that calling what Alli proclaimed to be a ‘professor’ was indeed a specie of man, or a man-like specie. After an absurd question about Dwarven women, Valde was convinced that this man belonged at the Cultivation Center next week, as he had observed something about a ‘Tollerthon Convention.’

“d,” he answered simply. “Here, take this.” He handed the man with canine tendencies a flyer that he had picked up at the Cultivation Center for that Tollerthon Convention, and then turned back to the Anakron.

*(CoD = CaptainofDespair)
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Old 01-16-2006, 01:16 PM   #133
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Alli had a lot to think about now... That dream... That man... It was obvious, of course, who he was. She'd never expected to actually meet him and converse with him. She'd been trying for a while now to figure out how she was even going to manage to take out Màrîo should the chance arise that he was proven guilty. But how could she prove his guilt when all of the people thought he was pure and innocent as the wind-driven snow? Any suspicion that she cast would be far more suspicious than anything he'd done... he was a hero. If he was guilty... nobody yet knew it. But he had to be... Hookbill the Goomba and Roggie of Morgoth had both been attacked. It was a miracle that they weren't killed... Alli wanted to know who this guy was and why in the world she had such a bad feeling about him. In the mean time, she'd had another dream, this one odder than the first.

Sing hey! For the Scot at close of day
who chases the bad
Màrîo away
A loon is he that will not sing
O! Eomer is a noble King!
O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain,
and the brook that leaps from hill to plain;
but better then rain or rippling streams
is Eomer that smokes and steams.


O! Water cold we may pour at need
down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed
but better is beer if drink we lack,
and Eomer fighting at your back.


O! Water is fair that leaps on high
in a fountain white beneath the sky;
but never did fountain sound so fair
as the voice of the innocent one, Eomer!


It was just odd. Eomer smoking and steaming? Smoking maybe, though smoking was well-known to be bad. Steamy though? Perhaps Alli was a Seer (yeah right) and her dream was portending a future romance?

Alli sat quietly thinking all of this, blocking out the noise of the world around her (Anakron and Co. watching Roggie and Queenie, as well as screaming fangirls and Tom smirking slightly for no apparent reason). She had her legs crossed comfortably beneath her and her hands resting lightly on her knees. She breathed deep, coughing a little over the Mordorian fumes, but ignoring them.

Was she supposed to fall in love with Eomer of the Rohirrim? No freaking way... Well... maybe... But because of a dream? This wasn't some story. Her life wasn't just something that a totally random and attention deficient college girl made up as she went along. This was real life. This was Mordor, for Mordor's sake! Dreams shouldn't be taken seriously.

Just as she decided that she ought to ignore all of her dreams from now on because they were totally pointless, Eru appeared before her, clad in all silver and shining with a brilliance never before comprehensible. Alli looked around, afraid that the fumes really had gotten to her and noticed that nobody was paying Tolkien's portrayal of God the least bit of attention. She turned to him, averting her eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"Averting my eyes, oh Lord." she called, still not looking.

"Well stop it."

"But Lord, I am not worthy."

"You've been reading hymns, haven't you? Look at me."

Alli looked. Eru looked surprisingly like a llama. She felt it most prudent not to mention this astounding revelation. Maybe she'd tell Sai later.

"Lord, why do you appear to me now in the midst of Mordor? And why am I the only one that can see you?"

"Listen!" LlamaEru boomed (or was that blatted?). "Stop ignoring the dreams I'm sending you. I've tried twice now to inform you that the Scotsman is innocent. Bloody heck, pay attention to your creator! Do you want the world as you know it to be destroyed?"

Alli looked at her surrounding... she was in MORDOR. Eru stopped her before she could comment.

"Do you want the world OUTSIDE of Mordor to be destroyed? Hmmmmm?"

"So... Eomer's innocent. Is that all?"

"Yes." And with that, Eru disappeared and Alli was left to wander toward Sai. She waited patiently for Anakron to speak.
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Old 01-16-2006, 04:24 PM   #134
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Anakron had been waiting patiently for Alli's epiphany to conclude. When it did, he spoke.

"Fléin. You have succeeded in your most unusual quest. However, you were liberal with violence to your quarry. Granted, it was neither theft nor murder; however, there was the threat of murder not to mention severe battery. Eight points."

Anakron turned to Panakeia. "You have the quarry of choice. However, you achieved it by theft. Zero points. You have failed this test. You must make another attempt between now and the end of the fifth and final test, but not right now. It would be most unwise, as the next test will be much harder to pass, and we might as well not waste time on an easy one if the harder one has a much greater chance of ruining your hopes of leaving Mordor. Understood?"

Panakeia dropped the toupée to her side and pouted.

"Most convincing, m'dear."

Anakron turned to Valde. "You, sir, have one Spockian eyebrow. It was also achieved by theft. The deception was quite within bounds, but the theft was clearly against my word. That you have only one is irrelevant, though you should have two, regardless of what that silly Elempí said. Nevermind him. Zero points. You also must make another attempt to pass this test. But not at this time."

"Wilhelmina. I see you have a hat, a ferret, and a little dog, too. You were most wily in separating the pooch from the padiddle who owns her. You did not use theft, nor murder, nor violence, and as I said, deception is within the bounds of the test. However, you still have failed. You should see how it is that you failed. By what means did you separate the dog from the owner? Two things: glittery jewels and a mirror. Both items reveal that this dog here is not the most cherished possession of the padiddle, nor even the second. The padiddle in question happens to care for gems and jewels more than for her pooch; but she cares more about her face and appearance than about either; more's the pity, seeing as the face she has is not really that great in terms of beauty and seemliness. Be that as it may, you will have to take this test over again as well."

All three failures stepped up together and pointed at that which was in Roggie's fist. "What about him?" they asked in unison.

"Mardil, m'dears, has not even begun to do the least lifting of a finger to achieve his quest. Perhaps he is in one of his moods, silly as that would be. Or maybe something has happened to his mind. Whatever it is, the controlling mechanism that governs the wisdom and intelligence in the young man, is for the time being absent, and is expected to return to him at any time. Until it does, Mardil will probably not be much help nor fun nor a passer of tests. Hmmm......"

Anakron had stopped speaking because he was watching the scene upon the mountain. Roggie and Queen Quon had spotted each other. Worse, Rowling had spotted Mardil and had fallen into a fit of hysteria, as if Mardil was some evil entity from the worst of her nightmares. It couldn't possibly have been Roggie, now, could it? Queen Quon roared and beat her chest (with the one hand not occupied with carrying the screaming Rowling, which is somewhat of a shame, as it certainly would have shut her up). Roggie reached behind him and pulled out a black, flaming whip. They were about to exchange blows when a third roar came from the opposite side of the mountain. It was CoDzilla with all his nuclear heated breath.

"Where'd he come from?!" screamed Bleater Quackson.

"Oh, he's been hanging around hereabouts," Anakron drawled. "I thought his presence might lend a certain excitement to your monster battle."

"But- but- he'll change everything!"

"Since when has that stopped you?" Anakron retorted. "Now be quiet and watch."

CoDzilla breathed flame on both of his two opponents. Roggie lit up.

"But what will happen to Mardil?" Alli cried.

"You should have asked Illamatar while you had a chance," Anakron replied.

But the Offending Party member seemed to be protected by some spell the Balrog had cast over him. Meanwhile, Queen Quon's fur caught fire, and Rowling became a living, screaming torch. Well, make that a wick on a torch, because Queen Quon was acting rather torch-like herself. She danced on the volcano, melting the stones beneath her apish feet. Roggie lashed her with his whip, which caught her and dragged her to the gaping crater between them. CoDzilla breathed fire again. Roggie flamed hotter. Queenie fell to the ground with a thundering thump that caused the ground to shake. In another moment, she had fallen into the crater, shrieking in fear and rage. Roggie jumped in after her. CoDzilla looked wide eyed at the crater (which was a strange thing to see a reptilian monster do, with his inexpressive red eyes, but he did it; believe me). He stomped to the edge of the crater and breathed his fire down into it. The crater had been turning from cold gray to a glowing red since Roggie had jumped into it; now it changed to a fierce, hot red. CoDzilla dropped in, and the hot crater began to boil.

"Goodbye, Casino and Resort," Anakron murmured, "I will not miss you."

The volcano heaved. Magma flowed over the edge of the crater, in all directions.

"I suggest that we move a little farther back from the scene," Anakron said.

All those within earshot did as he suggested, looking back nevertheless with wonder at the cataclysm before them.

To make a longish story shorter than it might be, Elempí cut to the chase and explained that he could write all kinds of description about how the magma flowed down the mountainsides, how the casino and resort were engulfed in its river, and how screaming hordes of foolish betters fled as fast as their feet could take them, and some of them escaped. But that will have to do, for we have a main point to get to. And here it is. The magma rivulets actually just about made it to the feet of the Offending Party and the others who stood with them. At the farthest point to which the magma had flowed, something strange had happened. Each little stream finished in a finger-sized golden ring, looking very hot and very heavy, but very cool to the touch, for Anakron picked one up.

He held it up and said, "Who would like one?"

"I'll take it!" Bleater cried, his hands outstretched greedily.

"I always knew where your heart really lay," Anakron intoned, and handed him the ring. Bleater put it on. The finger on which he put it disappeared.

Bleater's eyes went wide. "My finger! It's gone."

"No, fool, feel it."

Bleater felt it. Then he grinned. "It's there!" Then his grin disappeared into a look of disappointment. "But it's only my finger. What good is that?"

Lurge, Sai Onara's orc, picked up another ring and put it on his finger. His head disappeared.

"But what about Mardil?" Alli asked. "Is he, um, well, dead?"

"No." Anakron replied. "He is safe as long as Roggie keeps him."

"Well, I have another question," Alli continued. "What did Bleater pay my Roggie to take a part in this flick? I know he doesn't give two maggots for a Troll, if you'll pardon the pun-"

"I won't," said Anakron.

"-but what did Roggie agree to?"

"Becoming the new Lord of Mount Doom."

Alli's eyes went wide and her mouth formed a perfect "O".

"And now," said Anakron, "it is time to move on to the Fourth Test. Fordim, Aimé, Offending Party, all of you must come with me. We have a flight to catch to a certain village." Anakron stopped. "Oh, and Bleater, go tell CoDzilla he'll be needed too."

"What's the village called?" Fléin asked.

"Dol Gaurgauroth."

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Old 01-16-2006, 10:04 PM   #135
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The Fourth Test: Dol Gaurgauroth

The flight of the Offending Party landed in Dol Gaurgauroth, a pleasant little village; well, at least as pleasent as could be arranged in Mordor.

There were just two individuals missing; but that was quickly rectified, as CoDzilla came stomping up from the south (in which direction Mount Doom roiled and Roggie reigned), Mardil in paw. CoDzilla set Mardil down. The Offending Party and hangers on stood lined up before Anakron.

"You shall make of yourselves a happy village, named (for conveniences of plot) Dol Gaurgauroth. Choose an occupation for the time being, and settle down. On the morrow you will see what has become the Fourth Test.

"Oh, and I have one more individual to drop off at this particular place. Dweomer release!"

Before the eyes of the OP, Anakron seemed to split in two. Out from Anakron walked a balding, bearded, and bespectacled nincompoop who smiled stupidly at everybody else, trying hopelessly to fit in as quick as possible.

"This, my friends, is my abstemious alter ego, Elempí, a most embarrassing figment, no doubt you can see right away. He is also our 'red shirt' for this occasion. Now get acquainted."

The Offending Party and hangers on looked at those others with whom they had been thrown together for this Fourth Test. Of course, there was CoDzilla, Aimé, and Fordim. Also to be found were Hookbill the Goomba still healing from various injuries. The others were Mormegil, Nilpaurion Felagund (who, they noticed, seemed stranger in appearance than the rest; but that shall be gotten into later on), SPM, and Feanor of the Peredhil.

Alli looked at the latter very suspiciously and said, "Anakron, why are all these people, and only these people here with us?"

"They have been (con)assigned to Mordor, of course."

"But Sir Anakron," said Valde, "everyone in Mordor has been so assigned. What difference these?"

"These have been involved in a most notorious pastime in the future, and have therefore been brought here to play out their worst and best nightmares in your company. I think by now you know what is in store for you. Your goal is to survive, plain and simple. Nighty night." With that, Anakron swirled his cloak around him and suddenly seemed to not be ther at all.

Panakeia felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see a bespectacled grin aimed directly at her.

"Hi! I'm Elempí! Nice to meet you. What's your name? What's wrong with your hair? Why do you wear so much make-up? I'll bet you're beautiful without it. Who's he?" This last was directed toward Valde Delego, who had begun to 'stage left' in their direction somewhat possessively.
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Old 01-16-2006, 11:15 PM   #136
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Alli looked at Feanor of the Peredhil in a way that seemed to convey a bit of every emotion except immediate liking.

"Hi, Feanor." She said without much friendliness. She thought it the nice thing to do, if not the thing she cared most for.

"Hi. Call me Fea, please, not Feanor. The whole Peredhil thing was just me being a presumptuous fifteen year old that felt the need to add an Of The to everything. I wrote this really lame story once--"

"I don't care." Alli cut off sharply. "I don't mean to be rude, but I think that it would be far ruder if I actually let you continue in this vein long enough to let you think that I cared before springing it on you. Better to know early, right?"

Feanor looked at her with a bit of a questioning smirk. Uncharacteristically, she refrained from saying the first thing that popped into her head.

"Good. Glad we've got this straight. Listen... if you do anything, Fea, to screw up my chances of getting home, you're going to have me to deal with. I get cranky when I get stuck in situations that I don't like."

"It's happens." shrugged Fea, unconcernedly. "You just tell me what you want me to do and I'll seriously consider it for a few seconds before completely ignoring you and following my own agenda. And um... my agenda currently has zilch to do with you. And just so you know? If you don't want somebody to talk to you, you shouldn't initiate a conversation with them. You know... just for future warning. And if you want to snag one of those guys, which, by the way you're wearing your pants too low and your shirt unbuttoned a bit too far, you are, you're not going to do much a job with it if you act like a [deleted] to everyone you meet."

Alli blushed and cringed. She deserved it, she knew, but that didn't make the sting hurt any less. She shouldn't have been mean to this Feanor. With mere words, the pretty lass could make her feel the lowest of lows. Look, she could do it now: "Alli felt the lowest of lows."

Illamatar above, it was like listening to herself shoot down somebody else... only she'd deserved it and they usually didn't. Alli didn't look forward to an unspecified amount of time living in the same village as Feanor of the Peredhil. What if... what if Mardil? No... she wasn't going to think of that.

Alli watched Fea walk away from her and looked on as she struck up conversation in turn with everybody present.

"Hey Elempi." she smiled, shaking his hand. "Glad to finally meet you. The correspondence through all of this time has been most appreciated. Fordim, most sorry to say, I'm considering a transfer, but not to your school. I guess you'll still not be giving me that A you promised when I schpealed about feminism on your Hobbit thread. Mardil, I've heard your name. I'm familiar with your ancestors. Pass on my regards to the family, should the occasion arise. Hookbill, I'm glad to see you're doing better. No worries... the fiend responsible will surely be brought to justice. Mormegil, it's been ages. Remember that werewolf game? Fun times... We slayed them something fierce... Ah, Nilp. Or is it Alice today? I seem to remember seeing an Emily recently... how goes it with you? Saucie... most glad to see you." She bowed slightly, barely angling her torso from where it had been, but the small motion seemed to convey infinate respect. Alli looked on jealously. Did this girl know everybody? Ugh... how was this fair? Next thing you know, she'll go talk to... "Aimè, I'm glad to see you. This shall be fun, no?"

No. No. Alli told herself. This wasn't possible. How could this... this... this stupid know-it-all girl show up and start talking with everybody? How could she possible have the sort of people skills required to talk equally comfortably with everybody present? How the freak did she even know these weird people? They weren't Offenders. Doubleyooteeyef did Anakron have up his sleeve this time?

Suddenly a very oddly convenient rock flew through the air and knocked Alli out. Her body lay motionless on the hard ground for several moments as the follow song played for her alone:

Oh, give me a home where the dwarven folk roam
Where the hobbits and elf children play
Where seldom is heard a discouraging word
And the skies are not cloudy all day

Here, here does he range
Where the bad guys like Mario slay
Where seldom is heard a soft-spoken word
And the skies are freakin' cloudy all day.

Alli woke up at random, miffed that nobody had notice her get knocked out by a large rock that had come from nowhere. What in the world was with these stupid dreams?

"Illamatar, should I be paying attention to this dream too? Hm? This is some ultra-important vision that I just had?"

"Baaaaaa."

"What?"

"Oh [deleted]."

"Illamatar, you swear?"

"What?"

"You swore."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did."

"Are you arguing with your Creator, missy?"

"No, sir."

"All right then."

With a poof, the disembodied voice disappeared without actually answering the question.

Oh this is going to be loads of fun, thought Alli sarcastically. First my side-plot turns corporeal, then Illamatar shows up to tell me that my dreams are of immense importance, but won't explain what, and now Anakron's got random people that seriously don't look Middle Earthian showing up. And I do NOT like the way that Aimè and Mardil are looking at this Feanor chick. And she's just soaking up the attention. Ooooh, she fumed. Adjusting her pants and re-buttoning her shirt (who was this girl to judge her anyways... it had been necessary to dress trashily to get back!), Alli vowed that no matter what this Fea girl tried, she would upstage her.

"No you won't. Baaaa." came from the sky. Alli grumbled unintelligibly at her Maker and waiting quietly next to Sai in order to figure out just what was going on. She knew that she needed to talk to "Aimè" again, but that could wait. After all... she didn't want the group to know exactly what was going on... knowing her luck, they'd all just gang up on her and kill her without bothering to listen to a single word she had to say.

Sai reached over and squeezed Alli's hand for a moment, giving her a reassuring look. Only Flein noticed. The rest of the group was too busy with its own issues.

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Old 01-17-2006, 10:52 AM   #137
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The villagers stayed up late discussing the finer points (no pun intended ... at least at first) of Dwarven women's beards, getting to know each other, making friends and enemies, and generally choosing sides.

Next morning they were up late, and straggled out of the cottages they had chosen for themselves, to the center of the village.

There they found a newly built gallows. Hanging by the neck from it was none other than Elempí, his tongue blackened and hanging out of a ridiculous smile. His spectacles still bespected his visual orifices; however, written in blood on both lenses was the number '3'. The villagers noticed that Elempí's thumb and pinky had been removed from both hands. So had his big and pinky toes from his feet. The villagers were beginning to sense a theme.

"Three what?" one of them queried.

In answer, Elempí's blackened tongue fell out of his mouth and began hopping around, a set of vocal chords wagging along behind it. Somehow, they got a sound from this misapprehension that sounded something like "wer ..... w ....vzzz", a sound that it repeated over and over again.

Finally, one of the brighter ones in the assemblage said, "I think this means there are three werewolves."

"We must lynch them!" said another.

"Brilliant," came a sardonic voice from behind them. Anakron sat on a cushy lazyboy, his feet up, eating popcorn and nursing a six pack. "Just understand that here in Mordor, because of the Dweomer, the lynchings are always multiple, and there are cobblers amongst you. Yes, notice the plural. I think I'm going to really enjoy this."

"But this could take days!" Panakeia cried, thinking about the rapidly disappearing time she had to do her make-up test.

"Maybe, maybe not. Those who remain of the Offending Party after two or three days (I still have to decide how many I'll make you toil through) will be excused, and the rest of the village will be free to continue to decimate each other, or flee, or bury themselves in the mud, or run to Roggie and beg upon his gracious mercy. Proceed.

"Oh, and one more thing. Do not assume that fellow members of the Offending Party are not werewolves." He grinned malevolently, and continued to much and quaff.

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Old 01-17-2006, 12:15 PM   #138
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This was the most hilarious thing that Feanor of the Peredhil had ever experienced. She'd seen it coming, to be honest. She knew far more about everything than was strictly prudent to let on. She laughed really hard as she once more saw Alli staring at nothing that seemed to say "Baa."

Alli was slightly less amused. This wasn't good. No, this wasn't good at all. She was going to die. That was all there was to it. How could she ever escape Mordor at this rate? Anakron was actively trying to get them killed. Well, you know what? She had bigger things to worry about. She rubbed her head where the rock had hit and remembered all of the stupid songs and poems that had recently run through her head without her say so.

"Okay, so Mario's a bad guy. Well you know freaking what? Mario isn't here right now. We're playing a very lethal game and Anakron's probably--" here she muttered something too vulgar to even be appropriately [deleted]. "Wait... so what do I know? The Scotsman is innocent. Eomer of the Rohirrim is innocent. Wait... that's real life. That's Mordor. This is Dol Gaurgauroth. This is entirely different." Alli currently had no clue what she was doing.

She swore very colorfully in her customary way. She'd just had a thought. If Eomer of the Rohirrim is innocent and Illamatar had outright told her that she needed his help in real life, then she couldn't very well let him get killed in this deadly game. She hoped hard that he wasn't a werewolf, because she was about to start lying about how much she knew. Whether he was innocent or not, she absolutely needed him to survive.

She'd need to think hard about this. Maybe she'd take a nap. Maybe that'd be a bad idea. She could really use the sleep... her dreams hadn't been restful of late and she was getting exhausted. She needed a dreamless night... but they'd probably kill her as she lay.

"Anakron," she called out. "If we're killed in the game, does that mean we actually die? Because I'll be very put out if I die."

Waiting for his answer, she stared at Feanor of the Peredhil as the girl started talking in a very odd sort of way.

"I'm the Seer." said Fea. "You should kill me. I mean... I'm a wolf. You should hug me. Kiss me, I'm Irish."

Tom Felton looked at her in a way that suggested that he'd like to do all three. Alli groaned. This was going to be memorable.
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Old 01-17-2006, 12:43 PM   #139
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Fléin stood around awkwardly before heading off to talk to Wilhelmina. All these new people worried him. Wilhelmina was safe, and was standing off to one side, talking to Mr Swanky.

"How's he doing, Wilhelmina?" he asked softly as he approached, moving out of the gaggle of people introducing themselves to one another.

"Eh?" she replied non-descriptively.

"Mr Swanky? Since Queen Quon... fell," he euphemised.

"Oh, he's been doing fine. That kitten you brought into this world seems to have distracted him sufficiently."

"Really?" he asked, surprised. "I hadn't given a moment's thought to it. Where is she then?"

In reply, Wilhelmina pointed at her hat.

"Listen, Wilhelmina..." he started, but stopped abruptly. Had he just imagined that? Had Sai just slipped her hand into Alli's?

They spent so much time together too. Horror of horrors, could they be... lesbians?

Fléin was immediately repulsed. Mahal hadn't created female dwarves to be with female dwarves. It was bad enough that they flaunted their gender for all to see, these Humans - but this! It crossed his mind for a second that Mahal hadn't actually created Men, nor had he meant for Dwarves to feel for them, but he dismissed this. Evil was only evil when he wasn't commiting it.

"Yes?" the whimsical voice of Wilhelmina floated over him, bringing him back to reality. He looked at her and frowned, lost in thought. "You were saying...?" she continued.

"Oh. Oh... Nothing of importance, Wilhelmina. Let's go meet these new people, shall we? Get a sense of what's what?"

She signified her consent, and the pair wandered off together, Fléin keeping half an eye on Sai and Alli. Maybe he had imagined it, after all. Alli was staring hungrily at Aimé, while trying hard not to appear to be staring hungrily at him. Who should they introduce themselves to? "That man covered in boilers and bathtubs seems quite an interesting chap," Wilhelmina answered his unvoiced question conversationally. Perhaps they were forming a psychic bond? He revelled at the though.

The Saucepan Man, or Spam, as he was commonly known, did turn out to be quite an interesting chap. He had apparently been named for his helmet of saucepan (Fléin was reminded of the Cap-Tin Sparrow), but upon his way to Mordor, there had been a poor translation of some sort. He wandered off into metaphysical possibilities and quantum physics, leaving the two a little lost, but much comforted in their intellectual new friend. He could be a strong ally in this village. Once his little spiel was over, they discussed this and that long into the night, and he thankfully kept both his feet firmly on the ground.

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

The next morning, faced with horror the likes of which they had not contemplated, they huddled together instinctively. Already, clans were forming.

Those potential-lesbians looked quite suspicious in Fléin's eyes. They probably had some sort of satanic deal with Morgoth himself, usurpers of family ideals that they were. Potentially. He'd be keeping an eye on them, that was sure enough.

"Wait a second... Will we actually be killed? That wasn't in the contract!" he heard Sai yelp. And so it began.
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Old 01-17-2006, 03:37 PM   #140
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Eomer of the Rohirrim (in after days, Aimé of Mordor) woke up, and instantly wished he hadn't. He had thought the Black Land was horrible, but the pain of this miserable little village was now dominating his consciousness. Or maybe that feeling was down to a night spent sleeping in a bed about as comfortable as a grave. Eomer did not care to think too hard about it; his mind could be occupied only with the bizarre events of yesterday.

He had been swept off his feet from the wide hostile land of Mordor into the midst of this Ridiculous Party Gathering (hereafter referred to as RPG) and he wasn't sure if he should accept it. "Why am I here?" he wailed, a little too loudly. It caused a very tall blond fellow to stare weirdly at him. This guy looked right at home among the fear, suspicion and acute paranoia; he was enjoying it! Eomer supposed that the man probably lived in Dol Gaurgauroth. He didn't know him, anyway. But of course! Eomer didn't know anyone in this place. Except...

He scanned the group and found the girl. Running lightly towards her, he noticed a sort of fog forming around him. He stopped, and the fog started to disappear. Strange, thought he, and went for the girl again. The fog returned, enabling Eomer to retain a curious kind of invisibility, and ensuring that his movements could not be recorded. Sweet.

"Alli" he called as the fog disappeared: now visible, he saw that he had reached the girl, who looked somewhat different today.

"Oh...yyyes, dear! How are you?" She smiled a smile which could be described only as devilish. Eomer started as he realised that he had been mistaken.

"Excuse me, miss" he said. "Only, you do bear a resemblance to Alli; and she's the one person I know here."

"Oh you poor thing!" the girl replied. "In that case you must get to know me." The smile never left her lips, but now her voice lowered to a husky whisper. She stared deeply into Eomer's eyes, in a way that professional hypnotists can only dream of [not that I'm suggesting professional hypnotists desire to gaze into my eyes—or am I?] "You mustn't be led by that Alli girl. She will be a bad influence on you, won't you let me tell you why? My name is Fea."

How could Eomer resist? So far, Alli had hunted him down, claimed to know a deep dark secret of his, brought him into this RPG catastrophe, and left him alone among these strange terrifying people. Conversely, Fea had been nothing but sugar and spice and all things nice. She took his hand, and led him to the village wishing-well, subconsciously intentional, if that.
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Old 01-17-2006, 04:32 PM   #141
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"You see, m'dear," Fea said, patting the wall of the well beside her. He sat, a bit of tartan peeking out from beneath his cloak. "Alli is just a kid. I know her well, though she does not know me. She just wants to go home. She wouldn't mind learning what it's like to be in love. But she is still a child. In time, I imagine that she will calm down and become slower to judge people, softer-spoken, and curse less. Now? Yes... she is a slave to her teenage-girl hormones. She's not yet learned to control them.

"What matters is that she means well. She is sometimes foolish, but she always regrets it, even if her pride will not let her apologize. Don't let her arrogance make you distrust her... she could be a powerful ally."

Fea realized that her defense of Alli could be construed as wolfish-comaradery, but she did not care. Alli's life was important... not hers. Actually, that wasn't true at all. Fea really liked her life most of the time, especially now that there was this one guy that... wait... That's Shire, not Mordor. In any case, Fea didn't want to see anything happen to Alli because of misunderstanding. She spoke again.

"'Mer, you should talk to her. She'll flirt. She'll seem shallow sometimes. But she'll tell you interesting things if you can earn her trust. She knows very much and has the most impressive connections with the Mordorian underworld. The reason, 'Mer, that she seems so inaccessable is because she wants you to think it of her. She's been hurt. She doesn't trust people."

"How do you know this?" murmered Aimè, entranced by Fea's words. "How do you know so much of Alli?"

"I have sources." Fea smiled softly, her thoughts hidden, but with a look of sweet contentment making her features look far more angelic than their usual devilish humor allowed. Aimè could not even find a smirk. "Ah, if you'll excuse me..."

Fea released Aimè's hand now and walked up to the crowd again, arms extended.

"'Ello, my loves, my doves, you have no idea. I've been having the most fascinating thoughts. I've been plotting like you wouldn't believe. You should be nervous. Those of you that are wolves, of course." She smiled in a way that conveyed a bit of bonkerdom. She didn't look all together sane, much different than she had just before with Aimè when her features had held amusement, flirtation, concern, and curiosity, all in turn. Aimè looked on in wonder as she propped her thumbs on her belt buckle, resting her palms on her waist. She shifted her weight to one side and looked nothing short of gorgeous as she teased the folk of Dol Gaurgauroth. "I think that we should lynch Anakron."

Anakron stood and began to speak some sort of rule that no doubt forbade it.

"No, listen to me." she interrupted, shooing him away. "This entire thing is his doing. If we lynch him, he'd be deprived of his fun, we'd know for sure whether or not he is innocent, and we'd all be able to leave Mordor without a single bit of trouble. After all, the Dweomer works through him. Without a conductor, surely it is as a disconnected circuit?"

Fea winked at Alli who glared at her. Fea smiled at the girls contrariness, appreciative of her dirty look. It was one that should have been able to kill. Maybe some day she'd learn to harness that energy. Hopefully it'd be a day after she learned to control her temper.

The rest of the crowd looked at Fea, swayed by the confident tone of her voice, her looks, her seriousness, and the way she seemed to speak such logic. It was only the loony look in her eyes that kept them from forking Anakron with a pitch immediately.
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Old 01-17-2006, 05:06 PM   #142
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Completely bewildered by this entire set up, Sai kept close to Alli, hoping she would have some idea of what to do. Unfortunately she seemed just as confused, as well as seriously annoyed by the appearance of Fea who had charmed everyone in sight the second she turned up. Feelings of loyalty and perhaps some pride that she had been the only one to get through her defences kept Sai on Alli’s side and so, for now at least, immune to the pervasiveness of the newcomer.

She had gathered from Anakron’s instructions and the gruesome death of his counterpart, that there were 3 wolves in among this motley crew of individuals, and that the way to complete this next task was simply to stay alive. As she mused over this, a thought suddenly occurred to her.

"Wait a second... Will we actually be killed? That wasn't in the contract!"

As people (using the term in it’s loosest sense) turned to look at her, she realised she had spoken out loud. Blushing she turned away, but not before noticing the suspicious looks that Flein was shooting at her and Alli from under his bushy eyebrows. Sai wondered if he thought the two of them were wolves, Anakron had said they could be among the members of the Offending Party, which was a scary thought in itself. She thought they were more likely to be some of these newer people. Surely she’d have noticed if one of the Party were a werewolf . . . wouldn’t she?

She noticed that this Fea girl was speaking again, suggesting that they lynch Anakron. She was tempted to agree, but wondered whether his death might mean that their chances of getting out of Mordor were scuppered, since he was in charge of it all.

Fortunately it seemed that some of the others agreed with her, or at least were put off by the homicidal look in Fea’s eyes. She certainly seemed overly keen on killing someone, and she never even said she thought Anakron was a wolf. Also, from what she'd heard back home about these 'games' she was sure that the innocent people were supposed to have helpers, people with special gifts who could swing the balance of power.

Due to her slight phobia of having to speak in front of large groups of people, Sai whispered these little observations to Alli (gaining another glare from Fléin for some reason - perhaps he thought they were plotting something?), who nodded and thought it over. Sai knew Alli was as wary of this new addition to their group as she was, and hoped that she would have some kind of plan to figure out whether she really was as innocent and helpful as she was trying to appear to be, or was just attempting to avoid suspicion.

While Alli was thinking, Sai gazed around at the groups of people mulling about. From Rowling's creations she knew the signs one was supposed to look out for in a werewolf, but those weren't really helpful when everyone around was in as human a form as they could manage.

From her right she heard a snap of fingers, and turned toward Alli, wondering whether she'd come up with anything or was frustrated with the inability to do so. Sai sincerely hoped it was the former. She really didn't like the idea of being killed.

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Old 01-17-2006, 05:26 PM   #143
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Alli had come up with an idea. Just as quickly, she'd forgotten what it was.

She'd listened to everything that Sai told her and glared prettily at Flein when he looked suspiciously at her. She'd come up with the most brilliant strategy in the history of Tol-in-Gaurhoth scenarios that would guarantee a win. And then, like I already said, she forgot it. She smacked herself in the head and only managed to make herself cry out in pain when she nailed herself in the bruise from the rock. Another vision showed up, this one of J.Lo. in a shower. She was getting really sick of this stuff. Illamatar was really bad at telling her when she was having real visions and when she was just having weird thoughts. At least the Scotsman was out of her head. But now he was in front of her. And she had to keep him alive. Even if he was a wolf. Illamatar had said so, and one didn't ignore a direct order from the deity that half of the forum thought was God.

She whispered back to Sai, her mouth close to the girl's ear to keep unwelcome strangers from reading her lips.

"We need Aimè on our side. His importance to the side-plot is unimaginably huge. His death would be a blow to all of Middle Earth and especially to me. I really need to find out why Eru thinks he's so important. I can't let him die. Will you help me?"

Alli was a little bit concerned that Sai was a werewolf, but it was too late now to worry. If the girl was a werewolf than Alli was in more danger than she could easily get herself out of. After all, they were sharing a cottage. Flein glared again when he saw them whispering. Alli stuck her tongue out.

"Apart from keeping Aimè and ourselves alive, I'm lost. No ideas from you?"
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Old 01-17-2006, 05:54 PM   #144
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"Sure I'll help." Sai replied, turning her head to Alli's ear. "But as for ideas I really don't have any. Unless we can figure out some way to determine who are the wolves and who aren't I don't really see what we can do. I'd say lynch one of these newcomers every day. We only have to last out 3 days at most and that way the whole Offending Party stays alive. But to do that we'll have to convince the others that we're not werewolves and that they should go along with that idea."

She sighed and shook her head. It was a little hard to think with a dead body around and suspicious glares shooting all over the place. She wondered whether a meeting of two such stares would cause some kind of explosion, and then shook her head to rid herself of such useless thoughts.

"I'm sorry. I really have nothing. Maybe we should just stand back and see how this plays out. Oh, and maybe you shouldn't hit yourself. If we want the others to take us seriously it might help to play the part of a sane person."
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Old 01-17-2006, 06:59 PM   #145
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Panakeia couldn't help being troubled by Elempí's gruesome and mysterious death. What a horrible way to die. She shuddered. At the sight of his corpse, her mind drifted back over their brief acquaintance.

"What's your name? What's wrong with your hair? Why do you wear so much make-up? I'll bet you're beautiful without it. Who's he?"

"What a lot of questions!" she had replied in exasperation. "Panakeia of Harad, nothing, because it's the only proper way to appear in public, I am, and," she looked around, "he's Valde Delago." Panakeia didn't think she liked him. Still smarting over her 0 points, she was not charitably disposed toward Anakron at the moment, nor was she inclined to appriecate the appearance of any of his alter-egos, no matter how friendly they might appear. Especially when he was criticizing her carefullly developed toilette.

Valde stood beside her. As he introduced himself to the odd newcomer, Panakeia took his arm, and felt a strange wave of nausea wash over her. "Strange," she muttered to herself. "Well, Valde, how goes it? I'm a little disappointed by the outcome of our last adventure, but it's nothing we can't overcome." The sick feeling rose with each word. "Nothing we can't beat as a team." That was too much. As delicately as possible, she turned her head to the side and leant over.

"Are you alright?" Valde and Elempí cried together.

Struggling to recover, Panakeia returned, "I don't know. I think so." Smiling at Valde as best as she could under the circumstances, she tried to say, "I'm fine as long as you're here," but couldn't make it past the "as long as" before giving into a wave of retching.

"There is something wrong. Maybe you'd better go rest awhile," Elempí offered kindly. Valde nodded in agreement.

"Yes, I think I will," she stammered. "I can't imagine what's wrong." She fled to hidden corner in the village Inn to rest.


And so she found Elempí the next morning, along with the rest of the village. For the first time in her life, Panakeia was truly frightened. She had heard tales of werewolves long ago, as a child in Harad, but had never thought of them as more than tales. Now it was terrifyingly real. And she didn't know what to do. Not being able to trust anyone was nothing new to her - she hadn't trusted anyone since she was 19 - but, just now, she wanted to be able to trust someone very badly. Valde? At the very thought, the queasiness returned to her. How very, very odd, she mused. I was fine a second ago.

Who was the most likely suspect? Panakeia was hardly inclined to doubt the other members of the Offending Party. After all, no strange deaths had followed the group until now. It had to be one of the newcomers. She looked them over, a hard glint in her eyes. One of them, a ragged, scruffy looking character, seemed more suspicious than the rest. It didn't help that he wore a tattered fur T-shirt and sat gnawing on a bloody bone. Nor did the signs he carried with him help his case. One read, "Dangerous Carnivore. Beware." The other said, "I'm a Werewolf! Lynch me! No he isn't. Yes he is. (Lynch rate: 67%)." This was the enigmatic Nilpaurion Felagund. And he seemed the best choice to Panakeia. Innocent or not, he was bound to cause confusion, and maybe even turn members of the Offending Party against each other, rightly or wrongly.

She heard Sai's suggestion: I'd say lynch one of these newcomers every day.

"Yes. That makes sense to me. No sense in turning against each other now. We have to get out of here." With a glare at Nilp, she turned to stand alongside Sai and Alli. "I won't be attacking anyone in our group. At least, not unless they attack me first."

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

Nilpaurion Felagund's post

'Ah, Nilp. Or is it Alice today? I seem to remember seeing an Emily recently... how goes it with you?'

'Blink blink,' the eyelids replied.

'Scratch scratch,' the head and hand asked in unison.

'Yawn,' the mouths opined.

And, then, one of them screamed.

He had suddenly been transported to . . . a pair of his eyes--the red one with three black dots in it--turned to a sign.

'Welcome to Dol Gaurgaurhothr.
Population: Changes pretty fast.'

'Blimey. I'm still stuck with this guy? I thought I left him in Mt. Doom,' someone to his left said. His head turned in that direction, but he saw only a drunk man wearing what looked to him like an aluminium head-dress--Aluminium Hatted Man, he named the character, aHM for short--, conversing with a small-pink clad monkey holding what seems to be a pistol. No, that couldn't have been them. Where did that voice come--

'I'm hungry. What's for breakfast?' a female voice to his right said. He turned to the direction of the voice again. But he saw only a male-type Man. Even if that man could speak in a female voice, it couldn't have been him. His vocal chords was at least two metres away from him. Plus, he was his airway was constricted by a looped rope hung from a strange wooden cantilever.

Then where are the voices coming from?

'Oh, look, a bone,' the female voice said, and he felt himself being dragged in a direction he didn't intend to go. Suddenly, he stopped, and he found himself sitting down. He heard the sounds of a nineteen year-old gnawing on a bloody sheep's shank to his right.

He felt someone glaring at him. He turned, and saw a middle-aged female mortal with blonde hair of a questionable shade. Her seemingly violet eyes, had they had mouths, would surely be screaming bloody murder.

'Would someone please lynch us?' the creepy voice to his left said aloud. 'I'd rather be dead than stuck with him like this.'

He suddenly recalled that voice. Once, he had heard it only in the confines of his mind. It was then he realised.

Nilpaurion had three faces.

'Hi, Fea! I'm here, Emily!' another familiar female voice said behind him.

Make that four. Oh, wearing glasses would be so difficult now . . . But his nearsightedness and astigmatism weren't his primary concern now.

How do I escape from here? he thought. Think, Nilpy, think!

'Wait a second,' yelped Sai--how did he know the name? 'Will we actually be killed? That wasn't in the contract!'

That's it! Hey, isn't that Ms. Sai Onara, the lass I met in Gondor while looking for a cure for multiple-personality disorder? Never mind that! So, what was my idea? Well, since I'm of the Elder race, dying would only bring me to Mandos, about a pleasant day's walk from my childhood home. Yeah, that's it! I just have to die. Nilpaurion's strange red eyes glanced from side to side, hoping that the physically manifest alter-egos would not notice the decision made in his mind by the other half-unnamed alter-egos that made up Nilpaurion Felagund's governing council. Now, how do I pull this off . . .

'Your attention, please!' he cried as he walked to the centre of the town quadrangle. There was a hush as all eyes turned to him, some screaming bloody murder in various degrees of violence, some snorting, 'What an attention-seeker!' while others just stared with their lower eyelids dropping as if they were jaws. Nilpaurion wasn't exactly a model Elf, or an Elven model for that matter, and the three new faces that suddenly sprouted on either side and the back of his head didn't help matters.

[At this point, the narrative brakes, and then shifts into poetic gear.]

Ascended Finrod's son and heir.
With dreadful voice he uttered there:
'Be you friend, or foe, or just a guest
Of Barrowdowns, or on a quest
To fare away from this sad part
Of Middle-earth, Dark Land's black heart,
Neither law, nor love, nor league of Hell,
Nor any Troll from Dunland Fell
May save you if you do not vote
For Nilpy Feg, with brains of oat;
For he is obviously a wolf--
Uh, wait a mo: What rhymes with 'wolf'?

[Here the poetic part ends, and the narrative continues.]

All eyes blinked at least once; some did so twice, and a few other thrice. When they had finished blinking, he saw something in their eyes that made him smile. They were all too ready to lynch him. But he frowned when he looked deeper. They only wanted to rid themselves of his atrocious poetry, which seemed to be on par with Vogonwë's (of Entish Bow fame). Hmph, not appreciating my poetry. I should send the lot of you to Mordor, or something. Hmmm, maybe I'll post about that later. Oh, never me mind that! They're about to lynch me, and I don't care for what the reason, so long as they do it.

But suddenly, Emily sidled into the conversation, 'What? What does all that mean?'

All eyes blinked again, and when they had opened, confusion replaced the anger they felt at his horrendous butchering of lyric Art (short for Arthur, of course). Not a few were muttering, 'What did he mean? Some troll from Dunland fell on a nilpy peg--what's a "nilpy" peg, anyway?--while eating oat bran?' He had lost his 'Lynch me!' momentum. He had to regain it. Nilpaurion grinned sheepishly, or rather like a sheep trying hard to look like a wolf hiding in a fluffy woolen pullover.

'What it means, my dear villagers, is that I'm a werewolf. You must lynch me, lest I destroy your village. If you do not vote for me, that means you're not trying to help this village, so I'll vote for you. Is that clear?'

'Hey, Mr. ModeVayor,' a female voice cried from behind Nilp, 'is multiple voting allowed?'

Before Anakron could answer, the creepy voice declared, 'If that's allowed, then let's just vote for Nilp an infinite number of times.'

'I don't know,' said another female voice, this time from Nilp's right, her voice dripping with sensibility, 'isn't death by lynching a bit painful?'

But she was ignored. No Seer was needed to see that; Alice was usually ignored by everyone. 'I vote for

++Nilpaurion Felagund

toDAY,
' Adam said.

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Old 01-17-2006, 09:36 PM   #146
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Wilhelmina had been rather irked by the fact that Anakron considered her hard work on the Third Task to not be in accordance with his rules. But now there were other things to consider -- like the hanged man, and the likelihood that several of them might shortly be deceased. This was intensely disturbing; Mordor was a place of extreme annoyance rather than death these days, and they hadn't been warned that their attempt to leave might prove fatal!

There was one thing she knew: the girl, Fea, spoke with confidence, but she couldn't be right. As satisfying as it would be to lynch Anakron, they needed him to get out. Therefore...

"I agree with you ladies," Wilhelmina said, banging her walking stick on the ground for emphasis. We of the Offending Party have got to stick together. We haven't tried to kill each other yet, have we? I mean," she continued gesturing at several of her companions in turn, "Fléin's rather hairy, and Panakeia's a bit scary-looking, and Waldo there's always brooding about one thing or another, but that doesn't make them lycans. Not by a long shot."

Tinkerbell yapped irritatingly; Wilhelmina had decided that since the pooch hadn't been of any use to her, she could comfortably despise it.

"There!" she exclaimed. "Let's just say Tinkerbell's the wolf and be done with it."
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Old 01-17-2006, 09:55 PM   #147
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"Anakron," Alli called out. "If we're killed in the game, does that mean we actually die? Because I'll be very put out if I die."

Anakron nodded.

"Wait a second," yelped Sai. "Will we actually be killed? That wasn't in the contract!"

Apparently the nod had not been sufficient, nor seen by all. "Yes, you can. The Dweomer controls the contract."

"I think that we should lynch Anakron," said Feanor of the Peredhil. Anakron stood and began to set her straight. "No, listen to me." she interrupted, attempting to shoo him away. "This entire thing is his doing. If we lynch him, he'd be deprived of his fun, we'd know for sure whether or not he is innocent, and we'd all be able to leave Mordor without a single bit of trouble. After all, the Dweomer works through him. Without a conductor, surely it is as a disconnected circuit?"

Clever little miss, that one.

"Fea, silly dear," Anakron purred as he sat back down on his lazyboy, "you are such a clever one. However, you overlook one fact that some of these others, most notably the members of the Offending Party, have probably ascertained on their own by now, that if I am lynched, they have no chance of getting out of Mordor. But scheme away, m'dear. 'Tis most entertaining.

"Oh, and two more things. As I have said already, you will not lynch one of these newcomers each day, Sai-" The eyes of all the newcomers honed in most antagonistically upon Sai. "-you will lynch at least two newcomers, or whomever, each day.

"So much for the first thing. The second is this: do not assume too much."

With that said, some of the villagers got down to business. Fléin began to sing in a most undwarflike manner:

"Oh citizens of Mordor, our village takes a blow
Elempí has fallen, unimaginable woe
What can man do against such violent hate?
How can we possibly retaliate?
A blind shot into the dark we must now take
For it is our lives at stake..."

As soon as he was done, SpaM said,
"1420! To the bottle we go!
Darn! He wazh one of my besht cushtomers too!

It sheems to me that a pint of Shpam's Old Potboiler izh in order. One of my finesht alezh, it izh. Really putsss hairzh on yer ches' ... Oops! Bad choice of words." SpaM raised up a bottle and quaffed liberally, much spilled down his chin. "There now. That'll calm the nervezh and hep ush get our thinking caps (urp) on. Now, who could have done shuch a terrible thing? Any ideazh?" SpaM stared intently at Mardil and Valde.*

"Well sung, Fléin," said Mormegil. "The best course of action is to analyse each villager and the werewolf will present him/herself inadvertently based on their responses. Everyone is a suspect currently and we need to hear some defense from individuals. I would like to hear from SpaM what with brewing and drinking naught but ale. Now I know that this doesn't imply guilt of murder but we would be wise at looking closely him. And also Valde is a Lead Tragic Actor and that casts doubt on him."

"What with brewing and drinking naught but ale, you shay!" retorted SpaM. Shince when did thish become a val- val- appro- (urp) good bashish for an accuzhashin of murder? Indeed, my tend- tend- liking for the bottle inev'terbly aidzh me in enjoying a mosht peashful night's slee(ur)p. Mosht nightsh I am incap- incap- unable of even shnuffing out the candle, let alone carrying out a grishly murder.

"But what about yourshelf, Maundering Mage? Shince you are sho keen to casht asper- asper- (ur) say bad things with not a shred of evidensh, perhapsh you could explain why we shouldn't be looking to you in thish grim matter?

"SpaM," Mormegil replied, "I am suprised that you didn't listen more carefully. But I shall not repeat myself, as you will probably miss it a second time as well. Suffice it to say that I was questioning your character not accusing you my friend. Now if you find a nasty character there you will likely find nasty deeds.

"As to your questions in regard to me, by all means you should be looking at me, as I said we should be looking at all people. As is well known my nightly routine consists of study, meditation, and the concocting of spells. After which I retire rather early to bed and sleep rather soundly till just before dawn, unless I am woken by your lot making enough noise to raise the dead.

"Given our current siduash'n," SpaM replied in a most erudite manner for one half drunk late in the morning, "I would shay that mentioning anyone'sh name izh tanta- tanta- (urp) the shame thing azh an accerzash'n (o'coursh, shtaring intently izh, nothing of the short ). You ashed me to 'shplain myshelf an' I did. I would ha' thought that my friendly nature wazh well known throughout the village.

Now, mage, it sheems t' me that thozhe early nightsh provide plenty of soap - er - I mean shcope for grishly night-time activitiezh wi'out leaving you tired. And p'rhapsh itsh no coinsheedins that the victim wuz a beshpectickled, one whoozh philoshophoshickulshizing might distrack you from your shtudiezh."

And so went the conversation as the sun reached toward the heights.
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Old 01-17-2006, 09:58 PM   #148
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Alli felt herself agreeing with Sai and Panakeia. She did not want to see any of the Offenders (no, not even Mardil) lynched. She wanted very much more than revenge to see where this story was going.

She especially didn't want to die and just slightly under that especially, Alli wanted Aimè, Tom Felton, Sai, and maybe Mardil (she wasn't sure yet) to get out of this town alive. Fea could die. She might feel a little bit bad, but not that bad. Fea's fea had all sorts of fun things to do once it was done inhabiting this Mordorian equivilant of herself. She had morning classes to occupy her (Alli learned this by listening to the girl get into a long discussion with a brick wall), homework to procrastinate on, that extra course she was taking, those extra events that occasionally sprang up, and now, there was this guy that she kept thinking about at the most inopportune moments... like the middle of a lecture in class. She also had some writing or something that apparently she got a huge kick out of. Weirdo.

But the point, to Alli, was that if Fea died, she'd just go on with her life. If Alli died, she was dead. A corpse. Not even a SimulatAlli. She had a thought... she'd have to check on something.

In any case, Alli really didn't want to die. She really didn't need to die. She was one of the good guys. She might be about as warm and fuzzy as a rattlesnake sometimes, but that didn't stop her from being a useful member of the Offending Party, able to get in and out of trouble quickly, with much to show for it and little lost because of it. Her standoffish attitude, though perhaps (sp?) wrong, was no reason why she was not a really good choice of somebody to keep alive.

And if her pleas of "Hey, I'm innocent and therefore important to keep alive, let's kill the strangers first." didn't work, she could always throw out something along the lines of "If I die, nobody will ever learn just how great of a sub-plot I'm unwittingly involved in."

She started as Fea, now out of the spotlight as easily as she'd gotten into it, spoke in her ear.

"I hope you survive. Life would be most boring without you around."

Alli looked at her oddly. There seemed to be a glint in her eye. Maybe it was just that Fea-gleam. Nothing new... just Fea being Fea. She couldn't help but agree with her.
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Old 01-17-2006, 10:02 PM   #149
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CoDzilla could see everything from his enormously high vantage point, and he noticed the ganging up of the girls of the Offending Party.

"Hey!" he roared as quietly as he could, "see those three? Alli, Sai, and Panakeia? See how those three are cahooting? Maybe they're the werewolves!" Then Wilhelmina came to them, banging on her stick, and joined them too. "Oh. There can't be four werewolves, can there?"

CoDzilla shut up for a while. Suddenly the Dweomer took effect and CoDzilla suddenly shrunk and fell into a very handily close by pond of salt water, and became merely CoD, swimming in his little pond; not to be left out of the doings of the village.
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Old 01-17-2006, 10:27 PM   #150
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"Maybe we're werewolves." repeated Alli mockingly. "Or maybe we're just girls. Remember? The gender that can't go to the bathroom without an escort? The gender that apparently has to approve of the guys that you like? The gender that walks into your room without knocking and lays on your bed, expecting you to drop what you're doing and actually respond when they look at you with this weird look and say "So???"? This gender? You're wondering why we flock together? It's like a puzzle, and there's a piece missing, apparently from your brain. You know what will fit there and make it all make sense? Kotex! Kotex fits. Wear it."

Alli didn't like it when guys (or monsters, though occasionally they were one and the same) made stupid observations. Of course women travelled in packs. They didn't need to be werewolves, necessarily, but it helped that they usually had to plan their lives around a monthly cycle. Werewolves had the moon, girls had their own issues. Alli dreaded the day she would meet a PMSing werewolf.

Spitefully, Alli knelt by the little pond and spoke to CoD.

"Did you know that this pond is the most polluted in all of Mordor? Yeah... your entire existence is being chemically screwed up right now. Pretty soon, you'll have three eyes, fur, and you'll permanently have Bon Jovi songs stuck in your head. Enjoy, little fish."
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Old 01-18-2006, 09:11 AM   #151
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The bizarre transformation from CoDzilla to CoD startled Panakeia. Even more so Alli's attempted conversation with the fish. What could Anakron possibly be up to now? Did CoD have special information about werewolves, being a movie monster himself, or was this just another distraction?

Suddenly, Nilp jumped to his feet. Throwing the bare, tooth-marked bone to the ground, he screamed, "I'm a werewolf! Can't you tell? Lynch me now." He pulled out a long quill pen. "Here, I'll make it easy for you." Nilp scratched a message into the dusty ground. ++NILPARION FELAGUND "I'll vote for myself." Then, Nilp's frame contorted wildly, engaged in a battle with itself.

"Stop that. You'll get us killed." His left hand reached to slap his right. And his right hand snatched his left.

"That's what I want, Adam."

"You're both crazy."

"Shut up, Alice."

As Panakeia stared, Nilp (Adam? Alice??) began to roll, writhing on the ground, mumbling and shouting incoherently.

"Do you see what I mean? We can't afford this distraction. I'm sure that some of you will want to attack SpaM. But at least he talks sense, even when rather, ahem, inebriated. So if he isn't a wolf, he can help us find them. Though some of those quiet ones are making me nervous, (she glared at those who had yet to speak) I really think we should get rid of Nilp now." Though she spoke with confidence, Panakeia really didn't like this business at all. It was with a heavy heart that she wrote

++NILPARION FELAGUND

on a sheet of paper left near the site of Elempi's demise. As she did so, Nilp left twisting on the ground, ran up, shook her hand and said, "Thank you." Panakeia groaned, almost certain that she was making a mistake. But it was too late now.
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Old 01-18-2006, 10:02 AM   #152
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Sai watched in amusement as Alli conducted a somewhat one-sided conversation with the newly shrunk CoDzilla. She felt much more at ease now that there were more people who agreed with the idea of avoiding lynching any members of the Offending Party. However, it seemed that there were to be two lynchings each day now, and if none of those lynched were revealed to be wolves the focus might still turn inward.

But, if they were going to keep on with the idea of lynching the newcomers they were already doing well, with two votes for the schizoid Nilpaurion Felagund already - including one for himself!

Pulling a piece of paper and a pencil from her pocket, Sai quickly made a list of who was in the village and those votes that had already turned up, hoping that a bit of organisation might help them with this particular task.

Panakeia ~ Nilpaurion Felagund
CoD(zilla)
Alli
Fea
Nilpaurion Felagund ~ Nilpaurion Felagund
Wilhelmina
Aimè
Tom Felton
Mardil
SpaM
Fléin
Mormegil
Valde
Anakron

She wasn't sure whether Anakron was allowed to vote, but put him on the end just in case. Pulling Alli away from the pool and back to the group she showed them all the list.

"I suggest that we organise who will vote for who if we've got to do a double lynching. Panakeia, you've already voted for Nilpaurion Felagund so that's begun one bandwagon, but who should we start the other on?"

Last edited by Kath; 01-18-2006 at 10:06 AM.
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Old 01-18-2006, 10:39 AM   #153
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Fea walked over and responded to Sai.

"I think that we should band-wagon Saucie. I mean... SpaM. See, it's tradition for me to fight for his early death. You can't break tradition, right? But my reasoning is better than that which I outwardly display: He's very clever. He could write us into a corner easily and we'd never know. If he's a wolf, we're not going to know it until it's too late. He'll never appear as anything but innocent... the only sure way to know is if he's killed, and we'd want that early since if he's lupine and we kill him late, he'll have had plenty of time to lay traps and manipulate our thoughts to where he wants them."

Alli was annoyed to realize that she agreed with Fea again. She spoke up.

"Fea's got a bit of a point. What we really need to know though, is if there's a Seer amongst us. I mean... I'm sure there's a Seer amongst--" she waved her arms to convey that she meant everybody in the village, "us, but if there's a Seer amongst us" Now she just meant the women present "then we could form a group as... wait... that'd be a bad idea. It would work perfectly if we were all innocent... but odds are, and knowing my luck, at least one of us is just asking to be killed."

"Kill me." laughed Fea.

"Shut it." snapped Alli.

Fea stuck out her tongue and Alli flipped her off. Fea laughed at her. Alli glared and considered smacking her. Fea was too irreverant for her liking. It was like she wasn't afraid of what anybody thought. That was good sometimes, but right now, people's thoughts dictated survival. Fea was being really stupid. Maybe she was just really tired.

"Fea, go to bed." Alli ordered. Surprisingly enough, Fea agreed. Sai and Panakeia (and a slightly nervous CoD that kept eying the water he was in dubiously) watched the argument curiously.

"Okay... good idea... I think I'm going to go take a nap now. I skipped the class that my alter-ego was supposed to go to for that purpose. I suppose I should carry it out."

With that, she disappeared into her cottage and within moments, the village could hear her muttering in her sleep.
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Old 01-18-2006, 11:08 AM   #154
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"Ok. So we're going to try and get SpaM and Nilp lynched? I'm alright with that I suppose but what about mormegil? He clever and sober, and from what I've heard of him he's just as likely to try and take control over everything."

Instead of the calm discussion she hoped would follow, everyone suddenly started arguing. Accusations were flying between the females, some of them nothing to do with werewolvishness. Sai realised that no decision would be reached if this continued, so she stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled. Those in the near vicinity leapt backwards and stared at her in either astonishment or annoyance (depending on how close they'd been). Thankfully though, they all shut up.

"We're not going to get anywhere like this. How about a vote. All those who would prefer to lynch SpaM raise your right hand, and all those who want to raise mormegil raise your left hand."

She stood back a little and raised her left hand, and as she did so she saw the dwarf, Fléin, move towards the little group with his left hand raised.
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Old 01-18-2006, 11:57 AM   #155
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Eomer sulked. He was in no mood to be particularly nice to anyone. Sure, he would be polite to them if any of them felt the need to talk to him, but there's a huge difference between being polite and being nice.

It appeared that this Anakron Wizard, or whatever the Angband he was, had turned some people into Werewolves, or some other convoluted plot. Eomer was fairly certain that he hadn't been affected by the magic, or whatever. How then could he find the Wolves, and be of assistance to the group? He spluttered in grim laughter as he thought this: Why on Middle-earth would he want to help others? What had they ever done for him other than make his life even more uncomfortable and unpredictable than it had been before? Nothing. He sat still and pouted.

He looked again at that blond chap, that 'Mormegil'. There was something about him; Eomer had a strange feeling about him, almost as if he had crossed swords with him before, in a dream perhaps? He was exceedingly wary of him. Look at him, bullying that 'SPM' fellow, trying to take control of the group. Very suspicious, Eomer thought. And there's always that 'Nilp' weirdo. Check him out, raw meat and blood dribbling down his chin; a wild look in his eyes. Kill him and improve the civility of this village at least.

And then he looked again at the young ladies in the group, specifically Alli, but he forgot not the glint in Fea's eye. If I were a Werewolf, Eomer thought, what would I do? Put on a cloak of fairness, of course. Try my utmost to 'feel fair' despite my evil interior. Well, those two are certainly actively employed in making themselves look fair....or maybe just hot. I suppose there is a difference—but the general intent could be equated.

I do wonder. Was that argument they had just for show? Are they trying too hard to look good? Are they....Werewolves?

Eomer knew this for certain. He was going to hide and try to discourage votes that way. He resumed sulking.
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Old 01-18-2006, 12:14 PM   #156
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Fléin watched the girls carefully over the next few hours. They had a little club, it seemed, but they couldn't all be wolves. Still... Sai and Alli kept whispering too each other, putting hands on shoulders and such. It was disconcerting. It was worrying.

So, when Sai suggested the lynching of mormegil, he was hardly in the mood to listen to her. Even if he wasn't a werewolf, Fléin could be quite sure mormegil wasn't a lesbian. Unless... no, he was just being paranoid. It was impossible! No, mormegil would live. He'd vote for either Sai or Alli.

He was just about to shout this out to the group, all of whom were arguing viciously amongst themselves, when he heard mormegil's voice rise over the hubbub. "Honestly, lynching me? The entire idea is as ridiculous as that stupid Bilbo!"

Fléin found himself suddenly quivering with rage. He could feel himself reddening. "What did you say?" he yelled at the apeman, rushing through the crowd to face him, shoving aside Sai and Valde in the process. "What did you say?" he spat in the mage's face.

"I said it was as silly as Bilbo, that stupid little hobbit who thought he was an el-"

"Stupid? Stupid?" One or two people around them were staring now, but Fléin certainly didn't care. "Do you know who that stupid hobbit was? What he was? Can that little ape brain of yours even contemplate the horrors he went through, the bravery with which he acted? The only Dwarf-friend in all history... STUPID?"

Mormegil had been paling visibly throughout the tirade, and was about to reply as unshakily as he could manage, but quickly checked himself as the Dwarf pulled his axe off his back and waved it in his face.

For his part, Fléin was more than ready to gut mormegil now for the dishonour. Unfortunately, just as he was about to do so, a piercing whistle nigh deafened him, and he turned around to face the source of the interruption.

Needless to say, he found himself in accord with the potential lesbian and threat to family values and ideals on the subject of mormegil. So rash was he, that he voted immediately, loud and clear for all to hear. Mormegil must die.

++Mormegil

Behind him, he heard SPaM agree with him, and he too cast his vote for the hideous apeman. "Now wait a second," mormegil argued, "how can we trust that drunkard? His vote should be repealed on grounds of inebriation!"

"Shame!" the Dwarf roared, and all turned to look at him. "Shame on you, mormegil Apeson, for the lies you spin. You would accuse SPaM here, when all can see that he is perfectly incapable of murder."

"But-"

"Do not interrupt me!" the Dwarf raged, temporarily assuming the form of a mad axeman. "Not only is he completely drunk, he's covered in bathtubs! How do you think he could even move around with that weight on his shoulders? Impossible! Next you'll suggest the Sun is at fault for setting on this cursed village."

Mormegil had nothing to say in his defence.

"Well, if that's settled, I'll be back in two hours. I have a project to be getting on with," Fléin stated and walked off. The rest of the village watched him leave the little settlement and walk straight into the surrounding forest. Some regarded this as a sign of wolvery, some of insanity. Only Wilhelmina and SPaMfully trusted his sanity and dwarvery, though neither of them were hugely reliable sources on sanity.

Last edited by the guy who be short; 01-19-2006 at 03:33 PM.
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Old 01-18-2006, 01:57 PM   #157
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Fordim laughed to see the villagers run about in such confusion at the sudden turn of events. It was a deep laugh, like that of a large dog-like creature, which quickly turned into something very much like a howl. He hid the sound with the back of his furry hand. At first this raised many eyebrows, both Spockian and not, but Fordim was quick to point out that he did have the head and countenance of a pug, and that it was to be expected that he would from time to time sound like a member of the genus canus.

He sat upon the ground and surveyed those gathered about, assessing who or what might be a werewolf.

Panakeia he decided could not be a wolf just because of the way she looked.

CoD(zilla) probably was a wolf just because of the way he looked.

Alli: wolf.

Fea : wolf. Or maybe innocent. Could be the cobbler. Possibly even the seer. Maybe the hunter.

Nilpaurion Felagund : innocent but slippery: should probably be hanged.

Wilhelmina: wolf.

Aimè: Scottish -- deserves to hang whether wolf or not. Haggis!? Deep-fried Mars Bars?!?!?

Tom Felton: never heard of him. Hang him.

Mardil: wolf.

SpaM: who knows...who cares...

Fléin: probably innocent but maybe not. Good candidate for a hanging either way.

Mormegil: definitely a wolf.

Valde: never heard of the man...probably can't be trusted.

Anakron: wolf! wolf!

Realising that he had got nowhere with his thinking Fordim did what he always did when confused in a game of werewolf:

++THE SAUCEPAN MAN

He then wandered off to find a fire hydrant, or a convenient tree, both of which, he found, were in short supply in Mordor....
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Old 01-18-2006, 04:05 PM   #158
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Only an hour later, Fléin returned to the group, bearing what looked like the beginnings of a fence and a heavy sack. All debate died away as everybody turned to look at him, fascinated.

"What have I missed, then?" he rumbled, and was treated to a mumble from ten different people, from which he gathered that only one other vote had been cast, Fordim for SPaM. He glared at the Dogman. What was this, anyway, the village of freaks?

Panakeia asked the inevitable question. "Why have you got the beginnings of a fence and a sack? The werewolves are already amongst us. A fence won't help at all."

Fléin turned his glare to her. "This," he announced majestically, "is not a fence. This," he paused again for effect, provoking a sniff from Valde, "is a numbering device."

There were general murmurs of confusion, but the Dwarf continued speaking over them, so that they died down rapidly. "It works so: For every one of us, there is a stick and a stone. Sticks and stones, you may know, may hurt our bones. Each stick and stone has a name engraved upon it."

"Now, the sticks are to be stuck in the ground in a row. Each person is to collect their rock. When you vote for somebody, you place your stone under their stick. A simple method to keep track of what's going on."

"What do we do with the stick and stone after somebody's been lynched?"

"The stone," Fléin answered with a smile, "is flung at the accused, whereafter the stick may be thrust through their body."

There was an uproar at this comment, especially from those looking likely to be lynched, but the system was reading adopted. Fourteen sticks were shoved into the ground, with two stones around mormegil's, two around Nilp's, and one around SPaM's.

The debate soon continued.

Last edited by the guy who be short; 01-19-2006 at 11:48 AM.
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Old 01-18-2006, 04:38 PM   #159
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As the stones were placed around the sticks a splashing sound was heard. Everyone turned to CoD's pool, only to see Nilpaurion Felagund, the self-picked candidate, leaning over with a hungry glint in his eyes, and one of Fléin's sticks in his hand. He was chasing CoD around the pool with it but his unfortunte lack of hand eye coordination meant that he was somehow poking himself more often than CoD. Sighing Sai took the stick from the madman's hand and threw it off into the distance, watching as he ran after it. Crouching down by the side of the pool she decided it was time to try and get another vote in.

"CoD, if you can hear and understand me, splash once."

One splash.

"Great, you know what's going on - the double lynching and everything?"

One splash.

"Ok, so, who do you want to vote for. One splash for Nilp and two for mormegil."

One splash.

"Thank you."

Standing up Sai added one stone to the pile around Nilp's stick. She quite liked Fléin's sticks and stones idea, except that she felt the system would be too easy to tamper with. Just in case, she added CoD's vote to her list and officially announced her vote for mormegil, writing that down as well as adding a stone to his stick.

Panakeia ~ Nilpaurion Felagund
CoD(zilla) ~ Nilpaurion Felagund
Alli
Fea
Nilpaurion Felagund ~ Nilpaurion Felagund
Wilhelmina
Aimè
Tom Felton
Mardil
SpaM ~ mormegil
Fléin ~ mormegil
Mormegil
Valde
Anakron
Fordim ~ SpaM
Sai ~ mormegil

So, equal right now but plenty of people left to vote. Moving into 'irritating in charge mode' Sai set about obtaining votes from those who had yet to make one.
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Old 01-18-2006, 04:48 PM   #160
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Valde raised a quivering eyebrow.

By observing the people around him, he would have thought that this was some simple game produced from the warped and overrated genius of the overbearing resident of a pointlessly well-funded barrow.

Suddenly two plus signs emerged from his mouth, along with the words, “Captain no space of no space Despair,” ignoring the bow he grasped and the quiver of arrows slung about him.

He sincerely wished that the Anakron would be hung, but he actually would much prefer to see him mauled by wolves. And he knew that SpaM spewed nonsense with a clattering racket, and something from one of his past lives told him that this Mormegil person was up to no good. But alas, when his life was so terrible, his every waking hour so miserable, he simply did not care whose neck adorned what noose, and he quickly went back to prank calling dairy cows about making them into shoes.

(That short look into the mind of Valde Delego could have been avoided if you had simply let your eyes take you to this obnoxiously bolded statement: ++CaptainofDespair)
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