Peredhil

"Guido, Nuncio! Push some tables together!" Peredhil beamed at the arrivals and absently putting a hand on Mynx's neck. He'd always had a bad habit of massaging whomever was in front of him, which had led to legal charges on a few worlds, but his fingers positively itched to feel her fur. With a few waves of his hands, suddenly the Cabaret was brightly lit, with small party lights lining the tables, windows, and doors. A mental nudge to the Kitchen and soon savory smells wafted in. The Jukebox began playing discordantly, and he hastily turned it off again. He'd given Wyvern a small fortune to buy and stock that, and it never had worked correctly. "Tanny, Degorram, It is so delightful to see you again. I hope you don't mind the modifications?" Mynx sighed. She knew without turning to look that he was looking and feeling genuinely concerned. Silly Elf.

Elrohir knelt by his father's side in concern. Elladan brandished his sword at Mynx, instead, and demanded, "What have you done to him!" Mynx rolled her eyes and snarled weakly. Propped on Elrohir's knee, Peredhil admonished 'Dan gently. "It's a temporary side-effect. We're currently sharing one life force; we were both wounded rather badly, and neither one of us was willing to let the other die. 'Ro, if you'd move my hand to her paw? Thank you. I currently have an abundance of Power, which is a very different matter. If no one minds, shall we continue this somewhere else?" Mynx rolled her eyes at Peredhil, but kept her thought to herself: "If no one minds - and he is actually taking a vote." The heat was starting to mount, the Volcano obviously straining NOT to erupt, and he was worried about interrupting a family moment. She carefully didn't think about the whole life-force issue. As soon has his hand touched her, he lithely rose and offered her a hand up. She politely bared her teeth in what could reasonably be called a smile, and accepted. Once he was certain she was steady, he raised his left hand and a blue star began to shine through it. Squinting against the light, she heard him delay again. "Elladan. Elrohir. Are those the LOTHLORIEN CLOAKS? I thought I'd made it quite clear how I felt about those." "DAD! VOLCANO!" "I CAN EXPLAIN!" She soooo wished she could see Pointy-Ears' expression right now... "You will." Funny, she'd never thought of Peredhil as menacing before. Not that he raised his voice. Actually, he dropped to a flat whisper. A hint of disappointment? She was still giggling at the thought of them being grounded at the age of Improbably Ancient when Peredhil spoke a firm WORD!

The twins drew a deep breath, then began together with a "WHAT?!" before devolving into a confused babble of questions. Peredhil used the time to catch his breath. In his arms, Mynx yawned, turned and snuggled into him, and began a slight buzz too light to be named a snore. Peredhil held up a finger and commanded silence. They trailed off with a muttered "what about Mom?" from 'Ro and a practical "does she know?" from 'Dan. "When I thought you dead and me dying, I came to peace with your mother, and myself. No, she doesn't know yet. Really, if she has some sort of ceremonies we're just mated I suppose. But, in the manner of our kind, we shared essences more deeply than I'd ever imagined, and I can only assume this feeling is being "in love". I'm not going to be rude; I'll try to woo her and hope she accepts the idea, however, as far as I'm concerned, I'm married to her. I hope she doesn't mind." Both sons hid their faces in their hands at that, an epic double-twin-double-hand facepalm. This entire world is about to slip. The entity said. A shame, but I have fed well. Of course, if any of you are burdened by memories I would be all too happy to assist. The twins spun to face the entity, swords drawn, but halted at a sharp word from Peredhil. "This is a friend of Mynx, I believe," he explained, then addressed the entity, "We're safe for a few more minutes. I asked the Volcano not to implode for a bit, and it agreed. Aren't you the quintessential incarnation of a concept, like Eternity, Death, or Coyote? Odd to find you here. May I help you find your way?" The Lady-Cat leads an interesting life. "Really! So you know her well. Wonderful, if you have a moment, I'd love to hear more about her past. I've developed a sudden fascination." I would be willing to spend your remaining 119 seconds here telling you part of what I know if you let me have your memories before you die? "No, we have a deal," Came a purred sleepy voice. Mynx yawned, blinked, and stiffened at the feel of a hand stroking her hair.

Peredhil tried to shake away the annoying voice, which thundered an incrementing count every few seconds into his headache. He focused into time to see the demon absorbed, and feel the utter relief the absence of its horror made in his emotions. He was weaker than he'd been in millennia, close to death, unable to pull power from the environment and quite unwilling to take any from the others present. His sons and bodyguards were either dead or their awareness had been stolen. He felt a slow swelling of anger that eased his awareness of his pain. In the clarity it brought, he became aware of the entity, who observed him quite curiously. He had a feeling it would have offered to share popcorn with the Tribunal if it had any, such was its amused fascination. It was splitting its attention between himself, and someone else. Lifting his head and rolling it to the side, he realized that he was floating unsupported in the air, and off to his left, also floating, was a very wounded Mynx from the Pen Keep! As soon as he became aware of her, her pain washed over his raw lacerated Senses, followed by a wave of determination from the tigress. Blinking slowly, he realized he was the focus of her intent and gaze. He managed a weak (ghastly to behold and so fragile) smile to reassure her. She didn't seem reassured. "I've been hired to rescue you, P'. Wait for a moment and I'll catch my breath." Her brave words were belied by the frothing blood at her side with each labored breath, and the steady patter of blood dripping from her coat. Another wave of pain assaulted him as she tried to shift her body, and he winced in sympathy as a few splinters of bone fell from her side. Shattered ribs, undoubtedly. She was going to kill herself trying to rescue him. That thought was... unacceptable. It would be rude to allow that. He had to help her. Even if it killed him. He was old, she had many years to live. Ruthlessly using those and other thoughts to spur himself, he managed to swing his feet to the side and slip off whatever force had held him. It was reassuringly solid to his desperately clutching hands as his weakened legs collapsed and he tried to slide TOO far. He wished that lunatic would count silently. With a grimace of determination, he pushed off and moved/fell toward where she floated. He managed to clutch her invisible platform without clutching her - he'd been very afraid he'd either pull (or push) her to the floor, or just put his hand through the enormous gash in her side. He kept his face impassive when he realized he could see part of her spine. How the jalapenos was she alive, better yet conscious?! She was more stubborn than... than... well, than him, to be honest. (Behind him, the entity leaned forward. If it had remembered to breathe, it would've held its breath in anticipation. This was fun! Obviously one would die, and its money was on the Lady-Cat. There was no way she'd let the Elf give his life to her - he was the contract. It wished the Tribunal was the type to bet, but the Tribunal could see into the futures, which meant it was absolutely boring in that respect.) He'd been a healer for much too long to have illusions. He could save her, but it would take all he had left. If he wasn't cut off from all power, this would be a mere inconvenience. How ironic it should be like this after all these years. Bracing himself on one hand, he put the other into her wound and Opened himself. He would have to hope that he had enough power left that the shock of matching her aura and life force wouldn't kill them both. If it didn't, he'd match and Resonate, then heal. He focused and flowed into her, and almost out her other side. There was no resistance, no disharmony. They were a perfect match at the deepest levels, an indicator not that they were identical, but that they matched, they resonated, as one harmonic. Gleefully, for his life would not be wasted, he poured himself into her. As she poured HERSELF into HIM. "Damnation woman, let me save you!" he thought at her furiously, unaware that with a slight change of gender, she was thinking the same thing. Fortunately, neither one was a mind-reader, and both were tenacious beyond all reason, and together they had almost enough for the Healing. Almost. He gently disengaged and started to let the blackness take him. SIX HUNDRED THREE. The Tribunal was gone, and with it it took all magical barriers and constraints. The Prison was broken. A number of things happened simultaneously. Elladan and Elrohir suddenly felt their life-bonds with Peredhil snap back into place - and began killing guards as they charged the Volcano. The Captor became aware of an unfettered Power where once it had a giant blind spot in its volcano, and lashed at it. And Peredhil's Threads came back. Just a few short of a million Threads, each to a power great or small, always held latent in the Un that separates universes and Planes, flared into life as the strike hit and parted around him, brushing Mynx. Mynx screamed. Peredhil screamed with her, still bonded deeply. Something had HURT HIS LOVE. Pulling Power with both hands, including a thread to this Volcano placed eons ago during his travels, he blew the Captor several Planes away. When his sons arrived, he was stroking Mynx's hair and ears tenderly, with a look of wonder on his face. "Hullo 'Dan, Hullo 'Ro. Forgive me for not standing, but my wife is recovering, and I want to be the first to tell her when she wakes." Their expressions were priceless, and he began to laugh helplessly.

She blacked out for just a moment. Which meant she watched helplessly through a haze of blood as things seemed to go into slow motion. From her new vantage near the floor, she couldn't see the toad over the machine, but she could see the metal automaton holding an ancient rune-encrusted stone axe, currently matted with her blood and fur, as it advanced slowly toward her. A crystal plate set into its "face" blinked in the same patterns as the machine was flashing. She tried to move, and bent around her side, coughing blood and feeling a "wheeze" against the arm pressing against her side. Sucking chest wound. She needed to move, to attack. The contract wasn't complete. Black dots danced a slow waltz around the center of her vision as she willed her paw to tighten on her sword. The automaton ignored the scream of metal behind it as the metal of the door showed hands pushing into it, like hands into water. When the door was ripped completely out of the frame, the flashing of lights in its face changed and it turned around to face the Cyclops. The short figure looked past it at Mynx as it caught the axe in its down-swing and held it motionless. "This pays for my release," he said, ripping the arm off. Unable to repress a bubble of humor at how ridiculous it was to bargain at the moment, she weakly flapped a paw to indicate her consent. Catching the other arm in a swing, it threw the automaton across the room into the main banks of the Machine, which began flashing wildly in yellow and red. With a small wave at Mynx and a wink? (With only one eye, could he wink?) He turned and strode toward the Prison's entrance, walking around the figure of the golden man, now reunited with his staff, striding toward the mayhem. The golden head with its three faces, one masked, the opposite partially masked, and one uncovered, floated inches above the torso. A great glowing blue gem was set into the metallic skin, lighting the room as he stood in the doorway. It raised the staff, and she gently floated off the floor and toward him. She could see the toad gripping its platform with all four tentacled legs as it was ripped free from the support structure to float toward him. Still dangling wires that pierced his shaven skull, Peredhil floated in the same direction. The entity, its back to the door, straightened and all its darkness streaked back to join it as it slid under Mynx's body and tried to hide. The released bodies of its victims lay unmoving on the floor, abandoned. Inexorably, the entity was pulled out next to Mynx, coiling into a clot of darkness that hurt the eye. Cousin? Let's not be hasty... The staff thumped onto the floor, and they all halted a few feet from the waiting figure. I have been pulled from my duties. I must render judgment before I return. Each face briefly rotated to the front, then the bare face spoke again. The Tribunal has judged. You were summoned. Cousin. You have kept faith. No justice is necessary. You are a mercenary. The accountability is to your contract holder. You will be untouched by the Tribunal. It is reckoned to the account that you freed us. You are a prisoner, as were we. Your threads are bound to the mercenary's. We will allow her to continue and what might be will be. You must waken to choose. The wires writhed out of Peredhil's skull, and fell with a tinkle to the floor. The collar flowed as if it were water, off his neck, across the room and into the staff. Peredhil's eyes began to flutter, and he resumed his quiet moans. You are an abomination, and your master has invested heavily in your creation. It is accountable for the inconvenience of our capture. We will remove you and the three Mind-Locked Planeswalkers entering the prison. We will remove the prison that it may not capture another, after a delay of 603 heartbeats, that choice may be made. We will then return to our duty. The toad turned into dark hues of light and flowed into the staff. From behind the Tribunal, three streaks of light circled it and were also absorbed. One.

A smash that foretold the crash of the ship's hull against the jagged rocks. The icy grey waters took Halfhand Harry and most of the S.S. Minnow's crew as well. There were seven survivors.

Chicken feathers make me down comforters to keep me warm, But I can't get down off an elephant. Duck feathers make me down comforters to keep me warmer, But I can't get no down off Chumbawamba . But I love to get down with you. New line: Cuddling a sleeping elf

In all the worlds, In all the galaxies, In all the universes, In all the Planes, I sought you. In all the worlds, In all the galaxies, In all the universes, In all the Planes, I found you. In all the worlds, In all the galaxies, In all the universes, In all the Planes, I chose you. Yes, you - Pikachu.

This incandescent rage, I feel (Too large for words or worlds), Destroying galaxies would not release enough. The entire universe, I hurl (I stride the Planes like pavement), At the object of my wrath. Left the damnable Lego™, you did (This has happened far too much), Boobytrapping the path to the loo. New line: The way I feel

Chasing trouble - She let me catch her, She was wild - I could match her. Whirlwind time - We spun around there, Eternal now - We just didn't care. I was noon - She was the dawn, At sunset, She had up and gone. First line: "The smile is fake"

In Its massive throne room a BEING stirred. Something... wrong? Unusual? A stirring of forces outside the Pattern? Its attention began to focus for a moment... Then It forgot why. Still uneasy, It ran a rippling check on the Boundaries but they were unbroken, with no signs of tampering. One of the prisoners? Had It left a vulnerability? It had fed on deities' power, but been unable to take their abilities. It still was limited in Its defenses to what It could imagine an attacker could do. It doubled the strength and frequency of the patrols, and sent three of the Brain-Locked Planeswalkers into the Prison to inspect Its security. Having a blind spot in Its own fortress had made It uneasy from the start, but that had been necessary for the capture, and either Brain-Locking, or stripping and destroying of Its victims. If necessary, it would reabsorb the prison and trigger the Purge. It had had to start over collecting life three times already, but each time It had been more powerful for the destruction.

They crept forward across the broken terrain, moving slowly; motion attracts the eye. The aerial patrols were overhead when they stopped. Poor tactics on the enemy part - they were regular as clockwork. They both practiced sighting targets, one after another, working from the outside in. Hoods up, magical senses extended, they settled into a relaxed watchfulness for any indication of Mynx.

Elrohir spoke without looking as Elladan came into the Vault. "The Crone at the Hanging Tree said he's alive at the moment." He heard his twin stagger in his steps, but carefully didn't turn. "I've hired that mercenary Planeswalker, Mynx, from the Pen Keep, to try to sneak him out. We should be ready in case she gets him to where we can snag them." He held out a piece of cellophane tape with a few orange hairs sticking to it. Elladan accepted it and asked, "Price?" "a Great Favor, to be redeemed in the future. If I die, take it." "Yes." Elrohir continued defusing the Wards protecting his section. Elladan started on his. No further words were spoken. They stripped down and began outfitting themselves from the skin out, layers of magic alternating with technology. When both were done, they took turns jumping up and down, and using black electrical tape to silent any sounds. Elladan carefully field-stripped, cleaned, and oiled a bulky rifle with a long thick barrel. Reassembling it, he did a careful function check, then inserted an extremely heavy metal ball into the stock, and a power-pack into the butt. Finally, he cycled the power on, let it whine up to full, checked the charge meter, then powered it down. Removing the power-pack, he repeated the process with three others, rejecting one to replace it with a fourth. Elrohir had taken a heavily warded case, long and narrow, and opened it to reveal the pieces of a compound bow, made of some melding of heavily laminated thin pieces of nearly translucent horn interleaved with rune-inscribed mithral. The pulleys were also of the silvery metal, but the wires and string were heavy braided blond hair. Opening a secret compartment in the case's interior, he removed scarlett gauntlets, thin as rice paper, shaped from a finely scaled hide. An aura of actinic power played about the gauntlets once he pulled the second on, then absorbed into the hide. He inspected each piece of the bow, then assembled it carefully, slotting and locking each piece, then double-checking before moving to the next. He strung the wires, and used a small metal tool to tighten them to the presets marked on each wire with a Sharpie™. Finally, muscles straining, and lights playing around the gauntlets, he strung the bow. Placing it carefully into a wall-rack, he pulled out a jeweler's loupe to enhance his vision, and began inspecting arrows, rejecting arrow after arrow until he had a rack quiver of fifty. Both ate lembas thoughtfully, washing them down with high-electrolyte water, and used the loo for the last time. Finally, they went to a crystal cabinet, and took turns leaning to place an eye in front of a large ruby, while murmuring a quiet phrase into a pinhead microphone. With a hiss of escaping gasses, the cabinet cracked and they carefully opened it further. It wasn't large, just big enough to hold two rings, one with a large ruby, one with a large white diamond, a sheathed long sword, and a small folded pile of grayish fabric. Ceremonially, they each took a gray cloak, and garbed the other, Elladan first, then Elrohir. With the hoods down, the cloaks just brushed the stone floor, shimmering slightly and baffling the eye. They were careful not to touch the sword or the rings. Closing the cabinet, they reversed the opening process, and each took a turn shaking the lid, ensuring it was closed and locked. Elladan took his rail-gun, Elrohir his bow. The sons of Peredhil were ready to go to war. With three silent nods to coordinate, they both spoke a Word.

He had to prevent Mynx from throwing her life away on a commission that couldn't be fulfilled. Regardless of the cost to himself. It's what Dad would've wanted. With a resolute look, he spoke a Word. ~~~~ Guido kept his mouth tightly shut as they strobed from world to world, universe to universe, Plane to Plane. They rarely paused longer than it took to kill anyone foolish enough to attack their sudden appearance. Elladan was colder than ice, completely focused on some elusive trace that only he could follow. Guido was just along for the ride, and a wild one it was. Word. Word. Word. Word. Word. On and on until the adrenaline wore off, fatigue set in, and Guido fell asleep at Elladan's feet, baggage on the mission. Peredhil would want his Bodyguards safe before Elladan was free to avenge him. ~~~~ Elrohir walked warily through the swamp, passing from hummock to hummock. Behind him on a leash was a sullen pale-faced teenaged human, with badly dyed black and green hair, wet up to his waist, and a practiced bored look on his face. He wasn't too bored to ensure he stepped precisely where the Elf stepped. He'd been careless at first, and Elrohir had not been gentle removing the giant leeches. The ground sloped up and became an island. It was lumpy and uneven with tangled roots, and the footing very uncertain. In the center was the roots' source, an enormous oak. It was currently barren of leaves, but bore a strange twisted fruit - from every branch hung hangman's nooses of many sizes. Some were so weathered they were hanging by a thread, others were new. The lad spoke his first word, eyes brightening in interest. "Coool." ~~~~ WordWordWord. Guido woke suddenly to silence. They were in a huge heavily decorated chamber. The overwhelming first impression was of round shocked eyes. Slowly they resolved into golden-furred faces. Attached to furred lemur bodies. All surrounding Nuncio, who was sprawled on a couch being pampered. Combed, groomed, buffed, fed. Completely safe. "Hey! I recognize deese guys," Guido blurted, "Da Boss and us was here!" In hindsight, he blamed having just woken. His words broke the frozen tableau, and there was a melodious swell of voices welcoming them, suddenly cut off. "Youve. Been. Here. Safe. All. Along." Elladan spoke between gritted teeth, punctuating each word by blowing out window after window with magic. Suddenly the flames wreathing his hands extinguished and he stood tautly, fists clenched, face raised to the ceiling. The only sound was of Elladans grinding teeth and tendons popping with tension. He finally lowered his face, and everyone present found it necessary to look away. Speaking to the Giant Guinea Pigs, he uttered two words. "Stay." WORD. ~~~~ Out from the hollows at the root of the oak tree crawled an old woman as gnarled and twisted as the roots. She leaned heavily on a short trimmed branch. Bright blue eyes peered up through a fringe of dirty lank bone-white hair, gleaming in malice. "Greetings Elrohir Demonbane. I have long expected your twin, but this is a rare treat." A pale dry tongue traced the thin lips lasciviously as she looked at the boy. "You come prepared to bargain. Is he worthy of the Tree?" "He killed his father and mother. They were paying more attention to his autistic sister than himself, and he was bored." "Yes. Worthy indeed, if true. Not all bargain in faith." She turned to the boy and addressed him directly. "Did you kill your parents?" "They were lame. Always fussing over the dummy. Selfish bitch." He was obviously bored again, eyes empty once more. She turned back to Elrohir and nodded once. "The price is acceptable and non-refundable. Ask your Boon." She waved a hand dismissively at the boy and with a *pop* he was gone. A new noose appeared on the tree. Elrohir looked pale and ill, but his voice was steady as he spoke to the hag. "I need the loan of the Mournblade until I have avenged my father." Her maniacal cackle started a murder of crows from the surrounding trees of the swamp. "Denied! fool! Your father yet lives for now. Youll need another payment if you return." Still laughing, she crawled back into her hole, leaving Elrohir to stare at the new noose on the tree in horror. ~~~~ Peredhil determinedly rebuilt his barriers again. He had faced his inner demons and survived, but it had been expensive to his Self. He was able to view the memories of his failed relationship clearly, accept the failures that were hers, but recognize that he had not been alone in tragedy. He had been assigned by Gil-Galad to lead the group that had hunted down the last of the Balrogs of Morgoth. It was the guards whod failed his wife, not him. Hed done all he could to heal her, but shed rejected him and all his efforts to comfort her. Shed given him all the blame and hed taken it all. He was clear now, but weakened, and still captive. If he were to die now, his guilt was expunged. Whatever had taken him wanted his power. He had always been very careful to lay the threads in the Un between all realities, bound to existence only by his life. He would hold onto his life as long as he could resist, then end it voluntarily, denying the captor any victory. He had a feeling it wouldnt be long until he reached that limit.

Elrohir paced back and forth, eyes fixed on Mynx's fleeting figure. There were times that being an Elf from his cluster of Universes really was marvelous, and this was one of them. His Portal had opened even further from the Mountain, but it was only about eight leagues and he could still make her out, vaguely. Rather amazing how golden-orange with black stripes could blend so well with the blacks and reds of a volcano. He'd tried various messager spells, but none had worked. He'd summoned an imp, but it hadn't made it a third of the way before meeting death. What killed it wasn't certain, but it hadn't just been banished back to its dimension, but had been destroyed. Just as a star warped space and time around itself, the Mountain warped all forms of energy and power. Mynx disappeared from his view, whether into another shadow, into the mountain, or into death, he didn't know. And it was all for a fool's errand now. He'd never felt this helpless and responsible.

Guido sat at the barred window and buffed his claws. Again. It wasn't that he had been treated badly. For a race of xenophobes. They'd tried to kill him when he'd first come to rest, but he'd originally thought it was because he'd crashed through several buildings first. He'd never tease da Boss about activating the Travel Amulets again. The charge had lasted long enough that their weapons had deflected much the same as the walls. By the time it faded, they'd given up and transported him into this cell. And that's the last he'd seen of anyone since. Once a day, food of various types was pushed through a low wide slot at the bottom of the door, and a spigot released water into a bucket. He'd eaten what he could, pushed back the rest. The other bucket's use was obvious, and he dumped that out the window. He was BORED. Someone should have found him by now. ... Well, THAT was interesting. The odd onion and turnip-shaped buildings that filled his view were bulging. Aaand he was blind. That was one bright light. A second later, the wave of sound, force, vibrations, all of the above, hit and shook the building like a lion shaking a mouse. Bouncing around inside his well-constructed cell, he had only one thought. Please let me bored again. ... By the time he recovered his hearing, he could hear screams of war and terror, and the sounds of destruction - the sounds of explosions, shrapnel, the roar of flames, gunfire. Steadily getting closer. He began to have an intuition, and hoped he was very wrong. Minutes later, blinking black and purple dots out of his watering vision, he managed to look out the window. A brightly glowing figure was moving steadily to the building which held him. Levin bolts lashed out with extreme focused precision, each one causing maximum death and destruction. He had to give it to the little radish-people, they weren't cowards. They were doing everything they could to stop it, but couldn't even slow it. Shaking his head in pity for the race, he adjusted his suit and fedora, buffed his shoes, and settled to wait. It wouldn't be long now. When the building around his cell ceased to exist, he was ready, and flexing his knees, was able to cushion the impact as he landed. His greeting died with a silent gulp, and he threw his gaze down and to the side, frozen except for the pellets filling his trousers. He felt no shame, only terror. Elladan had come for him. Or death. He wasn't certain and wasn't sure Elladan knew. The eyes were flat, opaque, and darker than his hair. there was no color in his flesh, and the bones of his face stood out starkly. He'd never seen or felt such a total lack of feeling in the Elf. They both stood without moving, then Elladan turned without a word, cast two more bolts of power scything across the gamely gathering troops, then clenched both fists over his head and swung them down and together, shouting a WORD!

Elrohir stiffened in his seat. He was in one of their favorite restaurants, on one of their favorite worlds, in one of their favorite Planes. One reason was that its boundaries were more porous than the Pen's, so it took little for ideas to cross Planes and universes, and travel was correspondingly easy. It was a very posh restaurant, and they were part-owners, and had been for a few hundred years. The diners were very upper-crust and old-school, they raised social manners to an art-form, able to pretend that a rice-paper screen was a sound-proof impenetrable wall. However, throwing a screaming fit of anguish and rage would push even their boundaries. He quietly summoned a server over, and waited as she flowed over, such rapid tiny steps that it was hard to believe that under the heavy silks she didn't have wheels. Bowing deeply, he indicated his most abject regrets that he had been summoned away, and presented his compliments to the chef. Unfortunately, so pressing was his emergency, he could not present his respect to the current owners, and hoped that they would accept a small token of his esteem instead. He dug into an inner pocket, blindly pulled out a handful of jewelry, and handed them to her cupped hands. Her almond eyes went widely round, and she almost forgot to bow. Catching herself, she bent double, touching her forehead to the ground, and backed out without standing, as if he were an Emperor from centuries ago. Lithely standing, his thoughts whirled... And caught. Dad was dead, and Mynx was going to rescue him. He had to stop her from throwing her life away. Word.

Peredhil could no longer dance and sing in the Paths. The constant exhausting sensory attacks alternating with timeless periods of sensory deprivation were beginning to take their toll. A new element had been added, empathetic attacks, subtle and insidious. The first had nearly tricked him into depression - an all too familiar Path. There was a magical brute force behind the delicate touches, causing a resonance within even when the emotions were denied. Memories stirred and came back to life as the emotions were re-experienced as freshly as the day they'd first happened. Fortunately, the Jailor lacked a certain imagination - everything was negative. But it was exhausting and his resources, cut off as he was, were finite. Worse, there was a certain combination to which he was largely defenseless. It would be immediately costly, but might buy him more time and life if he survived. He needed to deal with the memories of Celebrian, his lost wife. Building his external barriers up as best he could, he mentally faced the Opening to the Paths again, and once more entered. This time he turned away from the Ways of Solace and Peace, and took a dark bitter twisting Path into memory Hell. Time to deal with his guilt, his failure, the rage that he'd been unable to even express - Elladan and Elrohir had hunted the Orcs of the Misty Mountains for decades after their mother had gone West, but the burdens of leadership and duty had denied him such a selfish outlet. As he followed the burning memories, he embraced and opened himself to the rage, the pain, the loss, and ever moved forward. In a way, he hoped that he was weak enough to finally die before coming to the end. His most painful failure. He, the Healer with the Ring of Waters and Healing, greater and more subtle of skill than even a true King of Numenor, (for what were they but descendants of his brother?) had failed to heal the mind and body of she whom he had loved the most. Even the Valar in the West had been unable to heal her scars. But he - she was his wife, he should have been able to understand, to mend, in ways that true immortals could not. Either way, he was committed now. As he forced his way further, all his resources became stretched to their maximum, and some fragile threads began to snap. Planes away from their father and each other, Elladan and Elrohir each reacted in their own manner when the Life-Bond to their Dad snapped. Unknowing, Mynx continued to pick her way warily toward the Mountain.

Peredhil finally opened his eyes, blinked a few times, focused on the goblet in front of him and finally, took a cautious sip. With Guido bartending, he was always wary of practical jokes. As he relaxed in his chair, Nuncio finally relaxed from his guard stance, and pulled up a chair as well. Behind the bar, Guido replaced the sawed-off shotgun with special ammunition back into a bracket. Ever since the Kidnapping, they'd been extra careful. Being mostly non-magical bodyguards in magical environments, they were constantly aware of their limitations and striving to find ways to overcome them. "I think the Pen Keep will live, if barely. I may need you two to start being actively creative in some way." As Guido visibly brightened, whiskers quivering, he continued, "OTHER than practical jokes." He mercilessly ignored the big sad-eyes Guido gave him, having had quite enough experience with the ROUS in the past. "There are others already here. Without their help I don't think we'd have made it. As it was, it was very close. Some things may be irrevocably lost in the Banquet Hall." He paused to brood for a moment, and Nuncio nodded understanding. The Banquet Hall had been Peredhil's special favorite. Rousing himself, Peredhil took another sip. "I hate to be Rude, but I will send out a Call, in hopes that the Poets who made the works will be willing to appear long enough to restore them. Hmmm." He pulled a slim electronic device from his jacket pocket and made a notation. "I'll need to ensure that they have the permissions they need to fix their works. I had to freeze everything in order to preserve what was left." "On the bright side, my wife is here somewhere." All three grinned with delight. As long as they'd known their Boss, he'd been melancholy, carrying the pain of his lost wife as if it had been yesterday. They weren't certain just what had happened when he'd been kidnapped and held prisoner, but he'd finally released the memory of his first wife, and found his next was his rescuer. They would've loved Mynx just for her effect on the Boss, but once they'd gotten past the fact that she was a tigress and they were Rodents, abet of Unusual Size, they'd found her to be a very complex and delightful company. Nuncio, typically the quiet and most reserved, had been melted when she'd managed to turn a practical joke around on Guido that had left him dripping wet and covered with multi-colored feathers. He treasured that memory, and hoped it never faded; he'd been the butt of so many jokes. Guido loved someone else with a playful sense of humor as low and broad as his own. His jokes were never mean in spirit, and never meant to be harmful, and Mynx had helped him put one over on the Boss, AND helped him clean up the mess under the Boss's stern gaze and impatiently tapping foot. She had looked so innocent he'd never suspected his wife for an instant, and when she'd admitted gleefully and dissolved into giggles at his surprise, she'd gained a worshipful follower in Guido. Elrohir had warmed to her instantly, but then, he'd truly met her first. He didn't talk about that much, but he'd treated her with a wary respect ever since she'd rescued Peredhil when no one else could. She'd requisitioned him on a few of her wanderings since, and he'd gone without protest. Peredhil would've given her anything in all the Planes, but she maintained herself and still took the occasional mercenary contract. Even Elladan had accepted her, and she seemed to be completely comfortable with him. He'd avoided her, in the period after the rescue, until she'd cornered him in wherever that random hostel had been, where they'd fled After. No one, even Peredhil, knew the content of the intense low conversation, other than it involved someone by the name of Skielah, someone Mynx had once known, but they'd found a common understanding and mutual respect that spoke well for their future. Elladan still was frequently away, but was beginning to spend more time with the rest of the family. "Grab a drink and come sit with us while you may. Others are on their way here." He spoke to Guido, but his eyes kept straying to the door, looking for his wife.

Herein are found the works of the past. Many are the gems of great worth within. Many an hour may be spent perusing them. If you feel inspired to add to a topic, or to reply, create a new thread in the appropriately matching active chamber, and link to the old. Enjoy...

"Great!" It was a true delight to deal with a professional. "I need your help to rescue my Dad. I can get you to the Plane, and within several miles of the Mountain that holds him, but no closer. All I can really tell you is that he's alive for now. Given that it is a Greater Planeswalker, who according to the local Powers has been either capturing deities, devils, and other Walkers and stripping them of their powers to add to his own, or killing the ones he couldn't capture, I'm going to assume that there will be physical and magical tricks, traps, and snares, and also magical and normal guards, minions, and henchmen. Given that it is nearly certain death to attempt, and a great deal of glory if you succeed, I'm willing to negotiate terms on behalf of Peredhil. I am certain he'll agree to anything that I commit to his rescue. So, are you interested? What are your terms?" Nearly certain death, how wonderful. Mynx flattened her ears, trying vainly to ignore the small voice that reminded her she had been looking for a challenge. "Interested might not be the right word, but if you're as desperate as you keep saying, I suppose it would be impolite to turn down such a request on Peredhil's behalf. I doubt you have the coin i'd usually charge for something like this, though. Would you settle for owing me one hell of a favor?" "Oh, I can get coin, jewels, gems, jewelry, or any other monetary item you desire. Making money is just buying cheap and selling higher - Planeswalkers have a certain advantage along those lines. But if you'll settle for a favor, I'd gladly oblige." "Seeing what you can do, I'm not sure I'd call it settling," Mynx snorted, but offered her paw to seal the deal. Elrohir nodded thoughtfully at her words. He knew he was the weakest, compared to his Dad and brother, but she didn't. "Okay then. I, Elrohir son of the Peredhil, hire the mercenary called Mynx for the purpose of rescuing my father, the Peredhil, for the price of a large favor for Mynx, to be redeemed after the successful rescue and removal to safely of the Peredhil. Agreed?" Mynx shrugged, nodded, and extended her paw again. This time, he took it and shook. A surge of Power passed between them and he said, "Done and witnessed by all deities of Good Will. Do you need any supplies? Magical or mundane?" "An anchor I can set a Gate to once I get Peredhil free." "That's it? This is a goodwill offer - you won't pay for anything. Helping you helps my Dad. You might be surprised at the resources we've gathered over time." "And I appreciate the offer, but I prefer to rely on the tools I already have and know well, than try to learn the balance of a new toy while running for my life." "Food? Water? Magical potions - labeled? I have a pair of Elven boots that you could have." "Boots?" Mynx looked pointedly down at her felinoid hind-paws. Elrohir looked baffled at her expression. Everyone knew that as part of their enchantment, Elven boots could fit any "foot". The true kind, found only on one Plane in a cluster of universes, were hot on the inter-planal market. "Yesss, boots. You really don't want them? He looked almost wounded. "Should I?" Mynx looked suspicious. "What's so special about them?" "Oh. They're genuine Elven boots. They always fit the owner. You'll never slip on any surface except water over three inches deep. You can't climb a sheer wall, but if you can find ledges or toe-holds at least as thick as your little fingerrrr- errr, claw, you could run up without slipping. Elven boots. The real kind, not the cheap knock-offs." At this point, Elrohir, Planeswalker, stopper of wars, looked nothing so much as a puppy that had just been kicked when trying to lick her paw. "Fine! Havens, fine, whatever you want!" His face blossomed into a happy grin that made her lips want to twitch to match, and his solid green eyes lighted two shades. Reaching out into empty air, he hooked a finger and muttered a word. With a pulling motion, a pair of high-topped boots appeared, which he caught easily. They were of soft tooled leather, etched with tiny runes. He presented them to Mynx with a flourish. "Your boots," he exclaimed triumphantly. "For someone who is so desperate for me to save his father, you sure do like to dither," Mynx said with weary amusement as she accepted the boots. "Anything else?" "Nope. I think you'll find they'll aid you in your task, if the auguries are correct." As Mynx opened her mouth to retort, Elrohir said a Word. They were standing in small fold in a lava field. The lava was a rough clinker-top, millions of broken bubbles making tiny razored edges. Filling the view to the left was a vast Mountain, towering nearly a mile above the lava plain. From vents low in the sides, tongues of fiery lava oozed down the sides and spread in fans, cooling into glowing ripples. The air was dry, and bitter, and had a sulfured tinge that burned her eyes and nose. Elrohir crouched and pulled her down, then pointed upward at an angle. Just below the sooty clouds was a flying lizard with broad leathery wings. On its back was a tiny figure with a glowing lance. "My father is in the Mountain," he announced somberly.

Suddenly they were standing on the battlefield. By the light of the king, they could dimly see people cowering from the rains. Closely by, five feet precisely as per the spell, was Mynx. The king saw a dour looking woman, standing against the rain, sword in either hand. Elrohir, on the other hand, saw the glamour as a shimmer over the reality. A snarling tigress, with ears flattened tightly against her head, and water split and pouring in small streams from each downcast whisker. He assessed quickly that She Was Not Happy. In a bit of a panic, (he NEEDED her,) he perhaps overreacted. Just a little. The spell that was to shield her from the rain and help with the excess water was successful. But she looked no happier to be fluffy dry, with all her hair sticking out and sporting luxurious curls at the tips. Including her whiskers. At least the glamour was still intact, although it now had wavy shiny hair. But dry! Inside, he cringed a bit at the sheer savagery of her expression, but he drove on gamely toward the goal. "Mynx, this is the King. Where would I find his daughter?" Mynx narrowed her eyes even further, the barest hint of silver visible as she all but snarled at the two men. "You really expect me to lead the man that has been trying to kill my employers to his quarry?" "I'm invulnerable at the moment," the king confided helpfully. They both ignored him. "I hope she doesn't yell at me, I hate it when she yells at me. But I'm invulnerable. "Your choice. It's either we go talk to her and tell her the war is over and her marriage sanctioned," at this, the king nodded vigorously, "or I just eradicate her side and you have no employer. I'm trying to do this your way." "My way?!" Mynx tilted her head up to the sky and started laughing helplessly. "You're mad, do you know that? Completely mad." Shaking her head, she stalked over to the king and rested the tip of one of her swords as close to the base of his throat as Elrohir's spell would allow. For all his assurances of invulnerability, there was a quality to the glamoured feline's expression that nevertheless made the king gulp. "On your word; you're ending this war?" "Yes," the king leaned back slightly, away from the pointy tip, and struck a noble expression, "For the sake of my kingdom, the time has come to mend its wounds in unity and peace. I sanction this marriage and look forward to living to an old age, surrounded by grand', and great-grandchildren." Elrohir was slightly impressed, this was the first sign of the pompous garbage he'd expected from royalty all along. The both looked at Mynx, ignoring the sword. He interjected helpfully, "we're in a bit of a hurry - the rain will stop in three minutes. I didn't want to cause severe flooding or wipe out the crops. We need a cease-fighting order by then." "Pointy-eared lunatic," Mynx grumbled, turning her back on them and setting off towards the camp. "Come on, then." "I am not pointy-eared!" The king looked over, and nodded agreement. Adjusting the math, Elrohir commanded the spell to take the destination from Mynx's intentions. Hopefully she was headed where they need to go. Just then, the barbarian finished trudging his way through the calf-deep mud and reached them. Elrohir nodded pleasantly and spoke a Word. Mynx bounced off the closed and tightly laced tent flap with her next step, knocking loose a waterfall that parted at either side of the dry spell on her, but splashed mud up on hind-paws and calves. Behind, Elrohir and the glowing king started walking forward to catch up. With a mental snarl, Mynx added this latest indignity to the tab she'd begun for Elrohir. There'd be a reckoning... ​At a murmured command from Elrohir, the king swung the sword gleefully in an downward strike and split the tent flap from top to bottom, then stepped in, closely followed by Elrohir and Mynx. The king paused and allowed the guards swords to deflect off his without even a flinch. "Melissa, it is your father," the king announced brightly, "I have decided that I will recognize your marriage, and even make him my heir. Shall we stop this silly war? All is forgiven!" At his words, the futile assaults stopped, the guards and general stepped back, and a green-eyed blond woman in her early twenties rose to stand beside the dark-haired richly clothed merchant beside her. Her icy glare didn't even dent the king's beaming cheer. In her was all the regal charisma royalty should possess; although rather plain of face and figure, the rest of her attendants faded to insignificance beside her. "Papa, what are you doing here. Are you drunk again? What are you talking about? What trick is this?" "My buttercup, which question would you like answered first? Is this," he gestured at the merchant-looking young man beside her, "my new son-in-law?" Turning slightly, the king aimed his good cheer at the man. "Welcome to the family! Do you think your parents would accept being knighted, or should I make them Duke and Duchess?" Elrohir turned to Mynx, and quoted softly, "Soften the King's attitude toward his son-in-law, help him give up his aspirations of empire-building through marriage, convince him that mixing his line with a commoner's isn't on the same level as with a pig's? Mission accomplished." he paused, and continued, "care to help soften her up? The war will start again in less than a minute, and the other side has been told to stop fighting." "You..." Mynx groaned, rubbing at her fluffy forehead tiredly, adding to Elrohir's tab at the texture. "Someone needs to educate you in the proper way to go about soliciting help, you know." Flapping her hand in irritation before Elrohir could respond, she moved to Melissa's side and tried for a reasonable facsimile of a smile. "Sometimes it's safer not to question where the good luck comes from. Maybe we should try and sort things out with some haste, though-" "Oh yes," the king interrupted, "I've ordered all my army to stop fighting as soon as the rain stops. I'm currently invulnerable, you know." "Oh Papa." Melissa rubbed her forehead tiredly. "General, please inform the mercenaries that the fighting is over. Ned, send a messenger to your parents letting them know they are nobility." Melissa continued to crack out commands. Outside, the rains began to taper off. In moments the mercenary camp was a buzz of purposeful motion. Turning finally to Elrohir, Melissa eyed him warily. To the side, the king was demonstrating how his sword could cleave a regular sword in twain. His demonstration stroke, unfortunately, not only cut through the guard's sword, but also the side of the tent and two tent pegs. From under the collapsing tent, the king could be heard, "Canvas isn't even touching you, you know." "Your Majesty, o Princess. I am but a scholar from a distant land. In my studies, I came across something that involved your royal family, and presented it to the king your father. On hearing it, he took quick action to stop the conflict. "Oh Prince," Elrohir turned to Ned, "In what line does your family trade?" "Construction," Melissa interrupted Ned as he began to speak. "Why, Scholar? IF that is what you are." "I merely wondered if it had occurred to him that a Royal Contract that excepted a family from taxes while paying them to build the infrastructure of the kingdom, in the form of roads, might be a favorable deal. The merchants win with better, taxable routes - after all, someone has to pay for upkeep - the king wins with better ways to move the armies if needed, and the kingdom wins in many ways." Ned frowned and nodded slowly. Melissa however, gave Elrohir a startled look of reevaluation, and pulled him to the side, speaking in an low quick voice about tariffs, taxes, infrastructure, and the rise of a middle class. Soon they were discussing Royal Inns and waypoints, and border controls. The aggressive little woman was a restless contrast to the tall amused Elf. After a discussion that left her nodding, with visions of gold coins in her eyes, Elrohir suggested they moving outside, so that everyone might see them getting along together. The Princess immediately grasped the implications of social benefits, and ordered the king, now free of the tent, to accompany outside. Trotting after his daughter like an obedient puppy, trying to match his stubby glowing legs to her long strides, the beaming king followed her outside, explaining to admiring guards how he'd ended the war. Elrohir smothered a smile and wondered how the king had ever found the courage to ban her marriage in the first place. Given that they were mercenaries, and admired anyone who not only resulted in full pay but no fighting, it undoubtedly meant more to the little king than his audience. Elrohir and Mynx (her lips pressed into a thin silent line and eyes still narrowed that promised a future reckoning indeed,) followed the royalty from tent. The king had caught up and led, accompanied by Melissa, her hand resting gracefully three inches above the king's glowing arm. They were nodding to all and doing the odd flapping hand that passed for famous people's waving. Using magic to amplify his voice, Elrohir began shouting, "The King and Princess have declared peace! The war is over. All hail the royal family!" While not seeming too over-loud, the announcement carried from the camp across the muddy battlefield all the way to the King's camp. A few die-hards still skirmished, but the overwhelming majority were content to just stand after the fighting and the battering rains. "The war is over! Long live the King!" Turning to the still glaring and silent Mynx, Elrohir beamed happily, as off in the distance came, "I'm currently invulnerable, don't you know". "Alright! Problem solved. Let's collect your pay and negotiate a contract of you rescuing my Dad!"

The King leaned forward in wary interest, staring at Elrohir. "What threat? My kingdom and my throne? They are one and the same. What noise is this?" "The threat is this. There is a curse on your line and lineage, a curse most dire. And as for your kingdom and throne, if you were to die, would not the kingdom endure? But both are in peril, for truly, without one of your bloodline ruling, the Kingdom would pass." Limited information. He'd been on one Plane in which Elves could not lie. But they could mislead, make unrelated statements, and play with definitions, as long as words were used consistently within a conversation. He'd gotten rather good at it. That mortals die was something he considered a dire curse. If the King were to ignore him, some day, he'd die. If Mynx continued to be honorable to her commission, and he had no reason to think otherwise, Elrohir might be the hand of the curse himself. Without one of the King's bloodline ruling, the kingdom would pass - to another bloodline. It was all in the presentation . "Know, o king, that your line was founded by a man of skill and vigor, powerful in sword and mind both." They always were. I'd keep an eye on that barbarian lad, for example. "At the head of a small force, the first of your line fought his way into the throne room, and saw cowering there the royalty of the day. Sneering with contempt at the soft helplessness of the court, one by one, he slit their throats." The kings eyes had gotten round, and his hand had moved from trying to unsuccessfully push his stomach in, to protectively covering his throat. "But there is power and majesty in royal blood, no matter how soft it has become." The king nodded many-chinned agreement. "So that when your Founder slit the fallen king's throat... He paused to take a drink from the king's goblet. "when he slit the throat..." "Damn the throat, stop saying that!" "When he slit the throat, the Founder's words gained power and became the destiny of your line!" "What words?! What destiny?" "Tell, me have any of the males of your line ever died other than of old age?" "Yes, almost every one!" "Ah... and did any of the ones who died in untimely haste die of violence?" "Yes, yes!" "Did any of them have daughters?" "Yes. Damn you, yes! What of the curse?" "Surely you know? It's your history. I only am a student of history." And the history of many worlds showed that ruling was a dangerous occupation. "NO! What were my Founder's words!" "I only have glimpses over time. I might not get them exact..." since I'm about to make them up... "The words! The words!" "Know oh king, that your founder was a commoner by birth, although very uncommon in gifts and ability!" "NO!" "Yes!" "Common?! The people must never know!" "Truly oh king, or they might think they could rule instead." "Madness!" "Chaos," Elrohir agreed gravely. "But... his curse..." The king visibly wrenched his attention from the abomination of a people ruling themselves, back to his own fate. Once Elrohir was certain he had his full attention, he continued. "His curse... was that his line would never become soft and useless. He laid a geas on his line that..." He had him now. This pause wasn't for effect, but to master the mirth in his eyes and voice. "What? What was the GEAS?" "The geas was a dire one, only the bravest and most noble of kings would ever dare it. Which must be why so many died... about your age, actually." "Died?" "Yes... for know, o king, may you live forever, that any of your line, bearing a daughter, who marries her not to a commoner, will absolutely die after. Your ancestor had peculiar ideas about breeding." "A commoner?!" "I know. Better to die instead. Fortunately, when I asked, you have no daughter yet, so you might be safe for a while." "I have a daughter!" "But I was told by a general that you had none." "I disowned her. I have a daughter!" "Then it is not too late. You can marry her to one of royalty, and sacrifice that the purity of your line may continue." "She's gone off and married already." "Oh no!" "To a git of a merchant's son!" "Oh the wisdom! You're saved!" "The hell I am, I disowned her and went to war to kill him and take her back." "Then she will soon be a widow." "Damned uppity merchants have all the money now. They've bought an army." "Then there is no solution. Surely you will win, for your cause is racial purity. You will live, but your line dies with you. She will taint the blood." "But the curse." "She's married a commoner, you should live. Pity the throne dies with you, but you will live." "But, but." "If only there were some way you could have it all!" "What if I. No. I would look weak." "I open my ears to you, o font of wisdom. You could never be weak, only magnanimous." "What if I declared him my heir, and granted his unspeakably crass parents a title? No, that would trigger the curse." "But wait! Their blood would still be that of the common, but their title would be noble. You are brilliant! You get to live AND keep the throne." "Yesssss." "But no." "No?" "No, it is too brave. Perhaps the Founder would've made such a noble sacrifice, but after so many generations... Best to save yourself and let the kingdom pass. Surely you're loved and will be cared for carefully in your dotage." "No. NO!" The King put on his most regal air. "I will do this for my kingdom. Thank you for trying to save me, but it is best for all." "Is there nothing I can say to dissuade you?" "No." He stood and postured, "No, I must do this thing, for my daughter and my kingdom." "Truly oh king, I am a lowly mage, and not worthy to be in your glorious presence when you shine forth your command like this. If there are any ways I might help? I'm a bit of a transportation expert - saves on riding on horses or carriages." "Wut?" Too subtle. Gather him back and nudge gently. "I do magic. I can safely move you over great distances. I can protect you when you get there. No one would believe if you send messengers. Only counsel from your own royal lips could not be argued or naysaid." "Oh. Uh. Me?" Really now, if he squeaked and squealed like the pig he resembled, the war would NEVER end short of him ending it, and he thought that, like Dad, Mynx wouldn't approve of massacre. Always the hard way when you're in a hurry. "Did I mention safe? Invulnerable even. You'd have to put up with being outlined with a holy aura of light, of course... Unless you've changed your mind?" "No. You're right. It must be me. I will take this burden on myself, for the kingdom, forgiving that silly slut and mending our kingdom." "Good enough." Elrohir gestured and a thin sword flew from the wall to his hand. He offered it to the king, hilt first. "If you brandish this, particularly with the light, you'll look very commanding." As the king took the sword, he enchanted the king's bioluminescence to make it sparkle in the sunlight. Over that, he layered a basic shield against weapon strikes. The king was still trying different sword poses when Elrohir spoke a Word. And they were in the King's Command Tent. The twang of strings greeted them as waiting guards filled the space with arrows. Good leadership, they weren't going to be caught twice in the same way. The smell of voided bowels filled his nose and he quickly magicked the King's pants empty and clean. Staring at the arrows at his feet, and feeling his chest, the king first examined his glowing limbs, and slowly lifted his eyes to glare at the archers. They looked at the crown and the face, and one of them pulled a coin from a belt-pouch and glanced at the visage impacted thereon. "Holy shit," he whispered, "We just tried to kark the king." There was a rattle of falling bows, and the smell of voided bowels filled the air again. While the king worked his mouth in outrage, Elrohir quickly cut in. "Yes, it is your King! Lead us quickly to the Generals and in his mercy he will spare your lives. What you did was necessary to prove his invulnerability!" Invulnerable, they murmured in awe, and the king preened. Aided by Elrohir's kicks, one of the guards led them through the camp, followed by awed murmurs. As they passed out of the tent and into the sunlight, he turned up the sparkle on the king. They were soon followed by a crowd as they arrived at another tent, this one unmarked. "Come forth and harken unto the words of your King!" he bellowed. An annoyed guard peeped out, and quickly dropped the flap. A bit of confused shouting, and officers began pouring out. He nudged the king, posturing for the crowd, and nodded to the Generals. "Ah. Yes. Well. You see, it's like this." The king seems to wilt slightly under the square-jaws and commanding stares of battle-hardened military leadership. "That is, my aide will speak for me. I'm invulnerable at the moment, don't you know." Knowing that neither a facepalm or pulling his hair would help, Elrohir took over as spokesman. These men didn't look foolish, so he rested a hand on gem set into his belt buckle. "The king, may he live forever, has decreed that the war is over." "How do I know he's the King? We never get to see the King. He could be anyone. A sparkly vampire or something." Elrohir figured there would be one, at least. Hissing at the king under his breath, he urged, "he's questioning your authority! Point the sword at him!" "What if he laughs at me," whined the king softly. "Point!" he commanded and as the king jerked to obey, he rubbed the gem with a thumb and hummed. From the tip of the sword, a bolt of lightning shot forth and the smell of cooking pork filled the air. He waited out the inevitable response - loyal guards attacking the king, weapons glancing off the shield uselessly. "Did you not know that only royal blood may shed royal blood? Elrohir shouted. "The war is over. The king has forgiven his daughter, and will sanction the marriage. Give orders to stand down as soon as the storm ends!" "What storm?" queried the officers, bystanders, and the king. Fortunately in the sound of the crowd, the king wasn't heard, and no one heard the whispered, "point the sword to the sky". This time, the king was quick to obey. Patting his belt as if he'd lost something, and humming a complex tune, Elrohir was the only one not surprised with a wind began swirling around the king - and the king untouched. The king, playing to the moment, planted his feet shoulder-width apart and held the sword aloft firmly with both hands. A whirling shimmer in the air and clouds began racing in from all directions to crash overhead. In the sudden darkness, the only light was the king, shining forth. Minutes later, a downpour began, hammering rains so thick visibility was nought and people threw their clothes over their faces to fight to breathe. There would be no fighting in this weather. Elrohir's voice cut across the howling winds and crashing rains with a clarion silver call, "The King goes to tell the other side the good news of his mercy. No more of you will need to die today!" "YES!" cried the king, caught up in moment and the fact that he was still dry and untouched, "I am going to go do what he said!" Word.

Bards of Terra - In recognition of their superior writing on the Archmage Forums, the following were given Bardic status in the Mighty Pen. In memory of Shurak Whitefist, First Namer of Bards, Former Keeper of the Conservatory, and his initiating goons in white coats. Boaz Deirdre Peredhil Grafted Greased Joat Lady Madoka Lord Angstrom Lord GeldrinHor Lord Gyrfalcon Nisassa Orlan Reverand Kannibal Korpse SAMSARA Shurak Whitefist Snypiuer Tesla the Inept Tzimfemme Ultimica Woods, the Crooner from Hell Zool, aka Runamok, aka G-Wiz, aka -DEADMAGE-, aka... Zorak

The Men of Terra Zorak, the Green MANtis. Thane, Man of Terra. Mordain, Man of Terra. HawkAngel, Man of Terra. Malenko, the Man Wit Da Plan. Corvus Corax, The Mystery Man. BelZpock, the Wise Man. Now Starlight Cid, the Party Man. Bale, the Ladies' Man. Orlan, the Sexy Sexy Man. Greased, the Man.