The Quincuinox

[Wyvern]

Wyvern slowly hobbles away from the Twister board with the aid of Finnius, who helps the overgrown lizard regain his balance and surmount any remaining bouts of nausea that he experiences. The punk-influenced Blue Man and the lizard encounter Xaious on their way towards the central buffet area of the party, and the Master of Time cheerfully waves to them before chiming.

 

"Hi Wyv, hi Finn. Just wanted to see what was up with you guys, y'know, maybe share a few sips of my Vodka with y'all. Oh yeah, and by the way, the stone roof of the Conservatory has become irreparably damaged through the arrival of the Master of Malice, and the dancefloor's mosh pit has become a Mosh Pit of Doom hosting flames capable of rivalling those of Hades itself. And by the way, somebody illegally parked their car outside too."

 

Wyvern turns to Finnius for a moment and exchanges a quizzical glance, then quickly whips out his trusty Almost Dragonic Brand Party Calculator™ (note: "trusty" is a trademark slogan of Almost Dragonic Brand Party Calculators, copyright control®) and begins typing away at it.

 

"Hmmm..." hisses the lizard upon seeing the results that the calculator produces after he's finished typing. "According to my cheaply fabricated yet extremely reliable Almost Dragonic Brand product, the parallels to Hell are only supposed to occur in a scenario where Melba accidentally drinks a full glass of Sucker Punch, which must be a marginal error on behalf of the machine. However, we appear to be one illegally parked car over our current catastrophe limit... something should be done."

 

Glancing left and right, the overgrown lizard catches sight of Gyrfalcon tensely seated at one of the buffet tables, watching the commotions as they occur left and right. Quickly dashing towards the half-elven hero and narrowly avoiding a violent collision with DL_Snake in the process, the reptilian Elder arrives at Gyrfalcon's table and proceeds to whisper several hisses into his ear. Nodding to the overgrown lizards requests, the generous Elder immediatly lifts himself from his seat and begins chanting numerous incantations under his breath, focussing his attention towards the mosh pit and the stone debris littering the ground.

 

The crowds screaming in the mosh pit, who are more terrified of losing their trendy spiked metal jackets than they are of searing their flesh, are suddenly overcome with relief as the flames of the mosh pit cease to cause any significant burns while still roaring brightly throughout the pit. At approximately the same time, the stones left over from the ceiling incident proceed to levitate towards buffet table #4, where they are promptly added to the Stone Soup that's been put on display.

 

Clenching a scaly fist in a victory pose and high-fiving Gyrfalcon, Wyvern proceeds to grab an Almost Dragonic Brand microphone from within his tunic, and exclaims to the masses:

 

"..."

 

Wyvern frowns as his voice fails to carry over the constant yelling and commotion of the party... or make any noise at all for that matter. Glancing at the "microphone" he carries, the lizard suddenly notices that what he holds is in fact an ogresses' lost hair pin from the mosh pit, which he proceeds to toss aside in disgust. Whipping out a real Almost Dragonic microphone, the overgrown lizard enthusiastically raises it to his snout and exclaims:

 

"Ladies and gentlemen...!"

 

The overgrown lizard pauses for a moment, then frowns at the disfunctional microphones faulty volume level. Shaking the microphone twice and cursing as it falls apart in his hands, Wyvern immediatly strides over to the buffet table containing Martha Stewert's "Recipes of Mass Embezzlement," and quickly grabs a loudspeaker disguised as a Cornucopia.

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen!" the reptilian Elder exclaims, his voice now ringing loud and clear, causing people to turn their heads from their chaotic activities for a brief moment to listen. "I would like to welcome one and all to the Quincuinox, a celebration in honor of the Quincunx' collective birthday, occuring this lovely evening of the 666th annual vernal equinox lunar eclipse!"

 

The crowds cheer.

 

"While the guests have only begun to arrive to this monumental event, I'd like to point out some of the activities that people can participate in, for those who are lost and uncertain what to do. For starters, our extremely well equipped chocolate mud wrestling arena is now fully open to participation, and people are highly encouraged to hop in in pairs and duke it out."

 

With that, Wyvern waves a scaly claw towards the arena with glee, unaware that Tzimfemme is currently using it as her delux swimming pool of choice.

 

"If mud wrestling isn't your game, you can feel free to socialize with other members at the vast buffet tables, and are encouraged to try the variety of highly exotic foods available there. Feel free to indulge in the Sucker Punch available to drink as well, and be sure to note that there will be a Sucker Punch guzzling contest occuring later in the evening (note: Almost Dragonic is not responsible for spontaneous combustions resulting through the extensive drinking of this hyperactivity-inducing fluid)"

 

A small, half-roasted imp gives a thumbs up to the crowd from its platter on buffet table #7, then promptly realizes its supposed to be playing dead and pretends to faint.

 

"Also, don't forget that you can always find a partner to dance with on our extensive neon dancefloor, now complete with a non-scalding eternal flame mosh pit. There will be a dance contest hosted later, so be on the lookout and try to find a partner before then! There's also the roof to stargaze off of, and plenty of games of Twister... and, uhhh, Gwaihir's outfit to observe, since it's quite a spectacle and will probably grow over the course of the evening."

 

Wyvern pauses for a moment to clear his throat of a few ashes, then continues:

 

"This party brought to you by Almost Dragonic Brand First Aid Kits... Make the drink coasters of your next party look special with Almost Dragonic Brand First Aid Kits, the only first aid kits that can effectively act as a drink coaster (and little else)."

 

Many of those that have gathered at the party boo as Wyvern airs his advertisement, and when people begin throwing stones from buffet table #4 instead of tomotaes, the overgrown lizard ditches the loud speaker and exclaims:

 

"Party on!"

[Peredhil]

Up among the telescopes, in the relative quiet and dim, Peredhil gazes on stars as if talking a slow conversation with old friends. His boys and Bodyguards have been sent off to enjoy the party, and he's gone so far as to loosen the black bow-tie he wears.

It is with a reluctant sight that he returns to himself, brought back by the waves of excruciating pain. Quickly determining it isn't another false alarm (he remembers the power he spent when it turned out to be Melba doing Yiddish Karioke), he begins activating preset Healing and Resurrection spells.

With those working their magic, he attunes himself to Mage Marks he's left throughout the building...

 

It is, of course, the Dance Floor. With a resigned shrug, he continues his self-appointed duty of keeping the party attendents alive as long as he can.

 

Guido leans over to Nuncio and begins whispering furiosly. They'd been on the balcony, out of harm's way (inevitable as though it might be at a Wyvern Party), and within easy call of Peredhil. They'd watched with applause at Orlan's entrance, and made bets on how many undead would be able to escape Minta's control. (Nuncio always won that wager as Guido was, at heart, a Romantic who always wagered too high on the hopes that some would shamble off into the sunset, finding brains in local countryside under moonlit skies.)

So it was that on observing Elladan corner Elrohir, talking at high speed with his most dazzling smile and wide excited hand gestures, while looking furtively around for Peredhil, they knew 'Dan had had another Great Idea for a Practical Joke (GIfaPJ). Moving slowly and casually as not to attract attention, the ambled to the stair heading up to the roof.

Guido stopped and pointed to the shattered ceiling, already sealing behind Orlan's Entrance, but Nuncio sharply tugged his arm down.

"Don't point," he hissed, "it's prolly Gyrfalcon's doing. He often cleans up after the other's disasters."

"Oh like the time Gloria Rune and Minta decided to do Melba's laundry and -"

"YES! GIfaP, remember?!"

They reached the stairs and began climbing, taking them three at a time.

 

"So all I need is a little shaping and power from you Bro', it will be hilarious! Non-destructive, no kills, save the furry critters, all those things you like, right?"

Elrohir raised a slender calloused finger and began to interject as 'Dan took another breath, but 'Dan sped on.

"Think of the LOOK on people's faces. Consider the little people. You've been the Paladin of a thousand Gods on a thousand worlds in dozens of universes, don't you think you owe it to all THEM?"

At Elrohir's wounded look, he caveated, "Okay, sorry about the 'bitch-whore of the Gods' comments, can't a guy have an off millenia or two? You gonna hold the past against me?"

Elrohir nodded an emphatic yes.

"Where's the tolerance the opportunity for growth the Politeness Aragorn always liked you more I'll tell Dad you had the hots for Galadriel remember the money you owe me I'll cancel the debt I'll get you those baseball cards Wyvern made of Showering Babes of the Pen and LEAVE THEM ON YOUR BED IN PLAIN SIGHT you should becau-"

"OKAY."

their sudden shouts although piecing and laden with emotion (or the carefully crafted appearance of emotion on one side; Elladan was rather pleased he hadn't had to try a tear ploy - he'd have had to make Elrohir pay for quite a while to wipe that out, and he did love his brother, if he finally had the definition of love right, while he made sure to reward Elrohir with silence and a look of surprise at the sudden shout even as he mentally patted himself for cornering him next to the Mosh Pit when he'd seen Xaious heading in that direction as he did a perimeter check of his back and-

"I'll do it. I've thought it through, and compared to Wyvern's plans, little can go wrong with this one." Elrohir fixed his brother with a suddenly sharp and fully attentive stare, and Elladan felt himself go still and wary. He hated it when Elrohir FOCUSED on him like that, it was a naked feeling.

"This wasn't in any way or form suggested or prompted by Wyvern was it?!?"

Wrong question and he was safe and in the clear! With absolute sincerity, he assured Elrohir that he'd come up with the idea all on his own.

 

Stepping back into the angle of the wall, Elrohir began drawing up power with a gradual whispering flow, as he let Elladan attend to Wards.

A subjectively timeless moment later, he and Elladan grasped each others wrists, completing a wholeness cleft in the womb and forming a magical circuit worthy of all their ancestry.

Contained within the Wards, it went relatively unnoticed in the excitement and confusion of the Party.

With a magical sigh, the Power flowed out along the floor, filling, pooling occasionally, tickling and refreshing feet bathed in its bath, a gentle innoculous healing flow easily put down to the sort of thing Peredhil's sons might do.

 

But in its wake, frogs began writhing and growing, turning to Princes and Princesses, gaining in stature, charisma, beauty, to stay so until kissed...

 

It was done. Elladan held his brother until his weakness passed - he always threw too much of his heart into these things, he reflected.

 

Elrohir looked out and smiled. A lovely tribute to the Quincunx, inviting royalty to the party. Strange that such an oddly appropriate idea should come from Elladan...

[Jechum]

Jechum floats in wearing only a pair of underwear….

 

Jechum hands the underwear to the Ogre as his entrance fee and now feels more appropriately attired for the celebrations...

 

"Happy Birthday, Tzim, it's been a while since I've seen you in your full Nekkidness. I've heard you now making Freya jealous living in her domain. If you ever travel near old Gundahar let me know for I reside near there now.

 

"From my heart, I wish you the best, and a joyous occasion."

 

Jechum floats out…

[The Portrait of Zool]

"Precious art! Precious art! Make way!" The shout preceeded a ramshackle velocimobile propelled by an invisible source, but piloted by someone who should simply have remained unseen. Hunched and twisted, Grimmael manipulated levers and pedals to steer the rickety horseless wagon careening through the shocked and surprised line, it's hulking payload, a full sized standing portrait of Zool, Ancient and former Elder of The Pen is Mightier than the Sword, shifting and swaying dangerously in the wind, the bumps, and general (in his eyes) mis-treatment. In it's wake were random_partygoer(s)_46, 47, and 48, err, former random_partygoer(s)_46, 47, and 48.

 

Such is the price of art.

 

Zool, in his usual keen incompetance, was late. It was several days ago that he had discovered a most unusual sheet of paper taped to his right foot, but because he was behind it he was unable to read it, until he had remembered, while someone was present, to have that person read it for him - and only then after the person had asked if he was going to 'The Party'. "Party?" he had asked curiously, invitation taped plainly to foot, "I know nothing of any party."

 

Skidding to a halt as the wake of tangled bodies rolled behind them, Grimmael was already lurching to the ground and unloading the huge portrait. With much effort, he marched it to Melba, as the groans of the injured and maimed arose behind him.

 

"Glad you could make it Zool," said Melba cheerfully. "Gimme yer undies."

 

"Oh! Yes. Good Evening Melba. Might I say you look... lovely... tonight..." Zool's voice rather trailed off as he took in her Ogress enchantment. Fortunately he was saved further embarressment by Melba herself, who having worked with Wyvern for many years had become quite adept at propriety and efficiency - for her own sanity and survival.

 

"That's nice of you to say Zool. UNDERWEAR."

 

"Right here," said Grimmael, reaching behind and bringing out a painting of Zool's underwear. Boxers, blue, with spinning rubber chickens.

 

"We read the invitation," said Zool, beaming proudly for having actually prepared for something.

 

Melba held the painting for a long moment, looking from Zool to the boxers, from Zool to the boxers. Finally she gave a resigned sigh, and said, "All right."

 

The Zool party let their own breath out in a whoosh, and started to proceed.

 

"Wait!" said Melba. "Grimmael..."

 

"Oh yes! Sorry!" The disfigured and disheveled Grimmael promptly handed over a pair of his standard burlap boxers, one leg opening smaller than the other, and specially deloused and folded just for the occasion.

 

"Thank you," said Melba.

 

Grimmael bowed with a twisted smile, the Zool party again let their breath out in a whoosh, and they started to proceed.

 

"Wait!" exclaimed Melba again.

 

Everyone inhaled sharply, taking another step back.

 

"What about rubber chicken?"

 

"Uh, what?" said Zool, beyond even his usual confusion.

 

"Is that not rubber chicken you have over your arm?"

 

"Erm, yes..."

 

"All guests must present a gift. As rubber chicken is coming with you, I must get a gift."

 

"Wha... Does that apply to guests and their familiars?" asked Zool.

 

"Familiar? I'm not sure what you mean by that, but my orders do not differentiate in any case. Pay up."

 

"But but but..." began Zool, but then Melba cracked her knuckles - and casually took out a can of paint thinner from behind the valet podium.

 

"You can't be seriou... EEEeek! Ah, rubber chicken! wake up! It's time to sing!"

 

Many have mistaken rubber chicken for a plucked rooster, however as surely as she eats rubber bugs, she also lays rubber eggs. Now, it was time for her to be a poet...

 

She looked up from where she lay over Zool's arm, and looked him in the eye with an unmistakable gaze - "You must be kidding." Melba, however, was not taking no for an answer, no matter how silly it was to demand haiku from a rubber chicken.

 

If there was one thing Zool respected, it was 'The Rules' - Especially when backed up with paint thinner.

 

"Puck-ack!" began the rubber chicken, clearing her rubber throat.

 

"Puk-puk ack puk-ack!

Puk-puk-puk ack, puk-puk-aack!

Puk-ack, puk-PUK aaaaack!"

 

The Zool party smiled broadly at Melba, a drop of sweat rolling down Zool's painted brow...

 

Melba held them in her gaze for a long moment, looking from Zool to the rubber chicken, from Zool to the rubber chicken. Finally she gave a resigned sigh, and said, "All right."

 

"Let's go!" said Zool, practically pulling them through the door with his odd expression of reserved haste. Keeping very quiet, Grimmael huffed up the painting and crammed it through the door.

 

"Watch it!" shouted Zool. "Precious art, precious art!" With a final scrape and a bang, they were in. "Phew!" thought Zool, wiping depicted sweat from his brow. He had been afraid for a moment she was going to realize that Matt, his pompadour, was another familiar, and Matt was basically hermaphroditic, and wore no underwear and couldn't speak.

 

As they trudged up the hall Zool saw one of the few remaining frogs in the path. He realized Grimmael probably wouldn't see it, burdened as he was. "Look out little green buddy," warned Zool toward the frog, "I'd sure hate to squa... Ooooh." Zool really felt for the little guy, as he knew, only too well, that it wasn't easy being flat.

 

Ah well. Now to party!!!

[Snowz0r]

Having finally reached the front of the line, Tempestt is confronted by the somewhat scary Melba ><!

 

Melba: Your name and invitation please

Temp: Tempestt Chubbytailz

 

Tempestt hands over the invitation

Melba looks at the scaly beast besides him

 

Melba: You wanna bring that thing in here?

 

Tempestt nods

 

Melba: I guess ive seen wierder things well hand over your underwear and lets move along now

 

Temp: Under..what??

Melba: Thats the fee for the party, males must bring along a piece of underwear

Temp: erm.... *stutter* I must apologize, for I do not possess underwear, how about a nice chicken bone or two

 

Melba: No, I'm sorry I cannot let you in without underwear.

 

Melba motions for the Troll guards to escort the scaly fiend and his beast away

 

Temp: Wait wait! I am a long lost companion of Rydia, Minta and Tzim! We have fought many battles together!!

 

Melba: Move on please

 

The troll guards continue ushering Tempestt out of the way

 

Temp: How bout a loincloth instead!

 

;

 

Melba stops mid turn

 

Melba: Well now, i suppose a loincloth is some sort of underwear. So ok, give it to me, we need to keep this line moving

 

Hands dissapear into that giant robe and grunts of exertion can be heard. finally it stops and the hands appear again.

 

Temp: *grumble* here u go *grumble* now let me in....

 

Once past Melba and the troll guards, Tempestt mutters under his breath " bloody uncivilised barbarians... confiscating ones undergarments as fee to a party..."

 

And at the same time, Melba is complaining to the next guest, "Can you believe the people that are coming to this party? that last guy didn't even know what underwear is, damn barbaric of him. loincloth.... pssshhh"

[Mira]

Mira breathed a sigh of relief, and leaned heavily on his staff, as he topped the strangest hill he had ever seen. (If he hadn't known any better he would have said that the large stone hill exactly resembled Zool's toupée.) His relief, however, appeared premature as he set his eyes on the rather long line of people all trying to press their way through the observatories doors. Weaving his way thru the people he some how managed his way to the doors and was just about to enter when a very large, very ogressy hand stopped him.

 

"Oh sorry Melba, I'm sure I'm on the guest list, I'll just be heading in" Mira said, vainly trying to make his way through the doors.

 

"Wait a second there mister, you know there is a fee for this party, don't you?"

 

"A fee?!?... I mean, yes of coarse I know there's a fee, how forgetful of me." Mira said producing several coins from within his coat. He pressed one of the smaller ones into Melba's hand. "Keep the change", he said as he once again failed to enter the observatory.

 

"I'm afraid that won't do" Melba said as she pocketed the coin. "This party requires a very special entry fee. Didn't you read the invitation?"

 

"Well, uhh..." Mira stuttered

 

"Didn't think so", said the now quite annoyed bouncer. "You’re going to have to give me a pair of original underwear to get in."

 

"Original What-a-wear?!?" Mira yelled, suddenly regretting to go commando that day. "But... but, I don't have any underwear, let alone original ones!"

 

"Well then I can't let you in." Melba said matter-of-factly, followed by a loud "NEXT!"

 

Suddenly Mira remembered the gift that his grandfather had given him on his death bed.

 

"Wait! I lied, I do have a pair of underwear!" Mira exclaimed producing a rather shabby pair of tighty whiteys from within his coat. A sudden gust of wind blew up as he held the underwear above his head he yelled "These are the Mighty Underwear of Aarrgghhh.... given to me by my Grandfather as his last act on Terra!" "By the power of these undies I demand you stand down and grant me entrance to this party!"

 

"Yea, yea, whatever, you can go inside." Melba said as she snatched the undies from Mira's hands.

 

Almost yelping with glee, Mira entered the party and immediately joined the massive Twister game already in progress.

 

OOC: Just in case you don't know going commando = not wearing underwear

[Boaz]

As Boaz rushes past the line only one thought is going through his mind "late, late, late, late, late, late, late.. god this is getting repetative, late, late, late."

 

"Ah, melba nice to see you. I would like entrance if you don't mind."

 

Melba looks down to see only the top of a dwarven helmet with both horns broken off halfway up. "Ah, well I will need a set of boxers then if you don't mind."

 

"Ah well then my pretty, here ya go." The largest trout Melba had ever seen suddenly appears on the countertop.

 

"Ah sir. These are not boxers."

 

"Oh sure they are! See those two holes where the eyes used to be? Those are for your legs. The mouth has an only slightly tight spring holding them closed, and it is counter weighed to make them say open once they are opened. Actually that was the easiest part of the whole project, what was really hard was finding a trout willing to mate with a dolphin to get the right size. You would really be suprised what a bottle of smirnof and a Barry White CD can do in that depart..."

 

Melba can't help but first shrink away in horor at the knowledge of just what is laying before her, and then as she begins to fully realize the situation that she has found herself in, she leans forward... "Your Boaz! Demigod of Madness... and your an imposter! Boaz has already checked in!"

 

With a quick look over at the first boaz who seems to be rather interested in staring at a small crack in the plaster wall, "Oh him. That is just my Emergency- Late Entrance Glancing Attention Timer. I like to think he is rather elegant." Boaz swirves and casts a quick spell in response to the chorus of groans at his last comment, and about 20 people being to hop around with smoke rolling off their dress shoes. "Another one of my inventions.. the mass hotfoot. now if you don't mind, I must go and find out once and for all who Rydia likes more."

 

Melba watchs the dwarf walk off with a suprisly small treant with short arms following him. "Sigh.. they get stranger and stranger, you would think we would have permenant mental health professionals knocking down our doors to do research. HEY SOMEONE BRING ME A NEWSPAPER TO STORE THIS FIS..ERR.. BOXERS IN!"

[Finnius]

Having made his announcement, Wyvern wandered off to who-knows where, leaving me in the somewhat perplexing company of Xaious, with whom I was only on passing terms. He seemed like a nice enough guy, no doubt about that, but... kind of creepy. I half-glanced over at him, nervous grin spreading across my face.

 

"So... master of time, eh?"

 

"Please, please, Master of Time... capitolized. Sound it out with me: M-aster of T-ime." He made little gestury motions with his hands as he talked. I think he really expected me to sound it out. A terse moment went by, with neither of us speaking.

 

"So how's that working out for you?"

 

"Fine, just fine! Really, it's great, I can see back in time, and forward and- ohmygod! I just remembered, I'm going to leave my oven on in three weeks! I must perambulate..." His brow furrowed down for a moment. He began walking towards the stairs up to the roof. I, for lack of any other ideas, followed.

 

We began climbing the stairs.

 

"So, Xaious... err... what's your favorite... erm... vegetable... type-thing."

 

Xaious got this glassy look in his eyes, then wheeled around and fixed me with this really odd, steely stare.

 

"Celery. I really hate celery. Never speak of this again."

 

"O...k..."

 

We took the rest of the stairs in silence, save the occasionaly creak of wood, or scream from bellow. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, Xaious simply disappeared. I was left staring at Peredhil, who hastily reached up to straighten his tie, before realizing who was there.

 

"Oh, Finnius! How are you doing? Pardon my absent-mindedness." He made a small inclination of his head, a politely small bow.

 

"Don't think twice about it... err, did you happen to see Xaious? He was just here a minute ago..." I looked side-to-side, as if that would really help.

 

Pered chuckled softly. "Yes, he was here just a moment ago. We had quite the conversation, actually."

 

"Err..."

 

"Don't worry about it, it hasn't happened yet. Give him a few hours."

 

Pered must have noticed the look of sheer confusion on my face, as he cracked a smile and chuckled again.

 

"Finn, for having been around here so long, you really do surprise far too easily." Pered flashed that all-knowing smile of his and clapped me on the shoulder. "Suffice it to say, it's nothing that should end up with you dead again. Really, you should relax, it's not like Wyvern's been possessed by a demon... (mumbled word that sounds disturbingly like 'yet.')"

 

"What was that?"

 

"Nothing, nothing. Hey, would you be a pal and grab a drink for me? I'm a bit parched, and opening a dimensional portal just to grab a glass of punch is kind of flashy."

 

"Err... yeah, sure, be back in a bit." And I wandered back down the stairs, to get some punch.

 

On the way to Table #3, I noticed the painting of Zool, and headed over to say hello, a drink in one hand, baseball bat in the other.

 

"Hey, Zool! Long time no see! Still a painting, eh? Nice talking to you-see you later!" Zool was one of those characters with whom I actually enjoyed talking, but only on certain occasions. In private, he was fine, and an intrigueing and personable... err... person. However, put him in a situation where there was liquor and partying, add a dash of Joat, a pinch of Boaz, stir well with Tzimfemme, Rydia, Rosemary, and Minta, and Zool became... well, more personable, but less safe to be around. Luckily, my eyebrows had re-grown since last time. I waved hello-goodbye to Zool, and continued on my way back up the stairs, where I handed Pered his drink.

 

After exchanging pleasantries again, I headed back downstairs. The night was still young, after all...

[Inspector I. M Clueless]

Meanwhile, near the front of the endless lines leading towards the entrance of the Conservatory...

 

Inspector I. M Clueless sighs and fidgets in his place, jamming his hands into the front pockets of his grey overcoat as he watches Tempest, Mira and Boaz make their ways into the party with only minor difficulties. Sniffing at the air and catching the scent of Boaz's trout-dolphin hybrid/boxer short gift, the Inspector hears a low growling sound as his stomach mournfully yearns for something to eat. The hardened detective frowns and raises a hand to his chin in the best "contemplative detective expression" he can muster, glancing towards Tempest's animal curiously as the growling sound continues. He couldn't quite pinpoint the source of the sound, and the animal ressembling a stegasaurus seemed like such an obvious option for it... but then, he doubted that an animal of that stature would emit such a faint growl. He hadn't even entered the party yet, but something fishy was going on here... something very fishy indeed.

 

The Inspector's thoughts are suddenly interrupted as a young man dressed in a plain tunic taps him on his shoulder in order to get his attention. Standing on the outskirts of the line and pretending to ignore the extremities of its length, the man clears his throat and says:

 

"Excuse me, good sir... but are you a detective by any chance?"

 

The low saxophone cues up once again in the background as Inspector I. M Clueless breaks into a cooly composed grin, and nods his head in one swift motion.

 

"Yeah kid..." mumbles Clueless in his best Columbo impression. "You want a detective, you came to the right man. Allow me to introduce myself... Clueless. I. M... errrr... Cluelittle. No, wait, that's not right... start over. Hold on, what was the first name I said again?"

 

The young man in the tunic suppresses a massive grin, and nods his head in a serious manner as he says:

 

"Excellent... I need a detective to, ummmm... to inspect that illegally parked car over there, and search it for clues. And don't worry, I'll save your place here in line while you go out to inspect it."

 

"Deal." answers Clueless suavely, giving his place in line to the snickering young man and heading out towards the car. Upon arriving at the car, the Inspector slowly comes to the realization that it's actually his own vehicle, and that it's parked right at a "No Parking" zone. Grumbling to himself glumly, the detective proceeds to quickly enter it and drive his car to another area, only to accidentally park it at another "No Parking" zone located at the other side of the line. After he's done so, the Inspector heads towards the man that had saved his place in line, only to be met by confusion when the man whistles innocently and claims he's never met him. Frowning and scratching his chin, Inspector I. M Clueless commences his five mile journey back towards the very end of the enormous line...

[Savage Dragon]

"Alright, time for a little fun" MTYFoolish said as he gathered a large crowd of pennite members, "We're going to play a quick game called froggy round-up. Rules are very simple, whoever comes back with the most frogs wins. Ready?"

 

"wait, wait," said one of the yougner more foolish members, "But all the frogs have turned into princesses and princes"

 

"Thats kinda the point" MTYFoolish said with a grin, " NOW GO!"

 

and they all scattered in different directions, MTYFoolish leading the way.

 

SMACK!

 

"one"

 

SMACK!

 

"two"

 

SMACK! SMACK!

 

"ouch. oops, sorry Celes"

 

SMACK!

 

"three"

Edited May 17, 2004 by MeThinksUFoolish

[Xaious, Master of Time]

After his 'conversation' with Finnius, during which the accursed vegetable....celery.....was mentioned, Xaious took a short trip backwards in time about an hour to talk to Peredhil, after seeing him on the roof of the conservatory.

They spent the nest near hour talking about the physics of cardboard boxes, the probability of creating a successful 'Butterfly Machine' for trans-dimensional travel, and kittens, until he heard himself and Finnius coming up the stairs.

He then sped off rather suddenly, after bidding farewell, and decided to start preparing for his little.....surprise....for the other party-goers. But for that, he would need to call in a few favors from a very few ancient beings; dragons, angels, and a greatly aged Wyvern, revived in the distant future.

He would a very special, highly aged bottle of Almost Draconic Tango Mandarine Bitter-sweet Stomach Mailting Crawfish Wine. And that hadn't been invented yet.

"Celery...*shudders*..WHy did that have to come up....It's been five lifetimes since that day...." He muttered to himself, on his way to the Wyvern of the distant future.

"Thank the deities that...vegetable....is going to be extinct within the next few hours."

Xaious side-stepped out of the time high-way, and into the 'Caring Home for the Elderly'--a dingy old building that, oddly enough, had a never-burning eternally lit fire in the middle of the floor--and walked over to the cot where Wyvern's greatly aged figure lay, fast asleep and drooling greatly, a couple of Money-Making for the Greedy magazines laying on his belly.

"Hey, old lizard, Wyvern, wake up. Or at least point me to the wine-cellar." Xaious whispered into Wyv's scaly ears.

Wyvern slowly, weakly, raised a scaly clawed hand and pointed to a dusty old bookshelf.

"Thank you. I'll be taking the last of that unique liquor I wanted you to make, ok?"

Wyvern muttered something unintelligible, and Xaious, after gently picking up the last bottle of Almost Draconic Tango Mandarine Bitter-sweet Stomach Mailting Crawfish Wine, thanked him, then stepped back onto the Highways of Time.

He journeyed back to the days when Dragons ruled more than just the sky; everything.

Xaious stepped out of the Highway, and into the middle of the Drayconien Hiy Cort of Laa (Draconian High Court of Law) and bowed to the least decorated member.

"Good day, Sir Xai of the Greatly Distant Future. How may we be of service to you this day?" The eldest dragon inquired.

"Great Liege, I have come to ask a favor of you and your kind, for the creation and completion of a...well... A spell which will I shall need to activate in a great many ages."

"And what such a spell would this be?" The ancient dragon quizzed.

"I..A..um...."

"Yes, Sir Xai?" The dragon ancient raised a scaled eyebrow.

"Well..It is a sp..pell of..re..re.. Revenge...." Xaious stuttered.

"Yes, of course. But we had not expected that you would ever seek revenge on any person." The elder being responded.

"Well..Tis not a person, but rather an unnecessary and repulsive weed of vegetation that has ruined a slight of mine psyche."

"I see. Well, I give you charge over mine dragons then, to make thee thine spell."

"And I shall consider the favor repayed."

"Yes, you shall."

"By my honor." Xaious answered, then turned around and chose out the greatest mages of the Dragon race, with whose help he would make the spell.

A spell to remove Celery from Terra, and from the Uni- and Multiverses for all the rest of time.

When the celebration within the conservatory was near to ending.

Xaious gave the small gathering of great dragons the directions and ingredients necessary to the creation of the the spell bombs, and then removed himself to the days of Angels and Demons, to call in a few hundred thousand favors. Most of these favors were to attain him little more than unique creations of the Angels, but at least half of the remaining favors-from Demons AND Angels-were to spread and hide the spell-bombs, which would have aged to a safe for carrying state by now.

He showed them where he would have the Dragon race hide the spell-bombs until ready -the race would have passed on by now, leaving very few of their kind alive- and told them to spread them out throughout the vast lands of Terra, the Uni and Multiverses, and on the moon -just to be safe.

Xaious bid the Angels and Demons farewell, then returned to the dragons with information on where they should hide the spell-bombs when they were completed.

After he completed this, Xaious returned to the 'present', into the conservatory, and right into the middle of a large crowd of frogs-turned-princesses.

"Hmm...I really should've been keeping track of this....."He muttered to himself, when all of a sudden some unknown Pennite-he was unable to get a look- ran up, kissed him, and then ran away when he didn't turn into a frog.

"That... O.......k......." Xaious said, a quite surprised look spreading across his face as he stood in the midst of the dance-floor; at that very exact moment, Finnius just witnessed him disappearing at the top of the stairs.

Edited May 17, 2004 by Xaious, Master of Time

[Peredhil]

The next thing MTYFoolish saw after "THREE" were small Rocky Mountain Blue Birds circling. Or could they be small ducks, in garish Mosh Pit lighting? Sounds began phasing in somewhat annoyingly.

 

"Oh my GAHD Becky, did you just use Tai BO?! That is SO nineteenHUNDREDS." Becky hung her honey-blond hair in retro-non-chic-shame. "I mean, I'm in Chin Na, and if I have to, like, do a Buffy number, I'd at least use Wu Shu. I'm mean, Chinese is IN."

A chorus of other voices, like, joined in affirmation. "Yahhhhh." Becky's voice cut through the chorus with hostility - she wasn't a fellow valley princess for nothing.

"Veronica DAHRLING, that GEEK was about to KISS you!"

"EEEEEWWWWWWW."

A showy California hug, which involved a precise hint of sexuality with the sterile field technique of nursing, cheek touching, and ensuring nails didn't chip ensued.

"Good thing he didn't chip a nail," Becky continued, "I'd have had to do a Jaki Chan on him."

"Or a Buffy!" Much giggling and jiggling ensued at this salle.

"Is that, like, a MOSH pit?!" Asked a girl who's "Princess" t-top had probably been purchased in the girl's section of the store. Despite any type of support other than internal silicon gels, she remained within her scrap of sequined material. The smooth ripplings of her stomach framing her pierced navel attested to faithful and regular Lhu He Be Fa with her Sifu. Workouts were part of the price a dutiful Princess paid now days.

"PARTY TILL YOU PUKE!"

 

~~~

 

Prince wasn't quite sure where he was, but the throbbing music had a wicked back beat and he wasn't the center of attention. Borrowing a mirror from a Princess he checked his heavy eye make-up, and then strutted toward the stage to find his roadies.

The purple one was one Prince who wasn't used to being ignored.

 

~~~~~

 

Sir Elton appeared in a group of fellow Princesses and looked around curiously as he adjusted his glasses. Look at all the material around here! Some of these fellows were georgious!

And all the blondes! He had a thing for song writing about dead blondes...

 

~~~~~~

 

Prince wasn't sure were he was...

And his mistress wasn't here either. But in her absence, he could smell a plethora of Princesses to guard.

Well trained, the Rottweiler with the spiked collar began guarding the nearest Princess.

 

~~~~~~~

 

The Princesses accepted another round of drinks without noticing the sheep-eyed loving looks the waiter tried to convey. Being worshipped was a price of royaltry.

"So, he wanted me to throw down my HAIR!" The hair in question was piled high on her head, held with jeweled pins, and still cascaded in soft waves to pool around her feet. With unerring taste and grace, it supplimented the green chiffon of her dress. "I took one look at this warrior, with all his bristly red hair and told him to braid a ladder from his chest hair. I mean, this guy must've weight 300 kilos without armor!"

Nods of sympathy from her listeners. She paused to sip her drink, with elegance and fairy-gifted grace, and another took up the lament.

"I know just what you mean. Look at them. Half these Princes are most interested in each other than in the gentler sex."

 

~~~~~~~~

 

A group of Princes stood and sipped their drinks as they made catty remarks, eyeing other men and women with distain, impartially.

"Look at THAT one. Ivory tower mentality and so OBVIOUS. He could sure use a queer eye makeover!"

[Quincunx]

All along the railings, stuck in place with dabs of freshly chewed gum, perched Happy Unbirthday balloons stuffed with whipped cream, marshmallow fluff, butterscotch syrup, caramel syrup, cherries in syrup, krispies, multicolored sugar sprinkles, chocolate sprinkles--Minta had exhausted seven zombies just having them inhale all the goodies and then exhale into the balloons--chopped mixed nuts, crumbled Oreos, chunks of cookie dough, whole marshmallows, coconut flakes, toffee chips, semisweet chocolate chips, white chocolate chips, peanut butter chips, and caffeinated peppermints. She leaned far over the railing, toes perched on the rail with a skellie holding her collar for balance, hugging an armful of balloons and waiting for Tzimmy to swim just a lil bit to the left. . .

 

"OOOoooooooooooo hihihihihihihihi!"

 

The neato necro gnomie girl waved wildly, seeing Tempestt and his dino-thingy scarfing down two ends of a roast beef, ham, and pastrami panini. The balloons slipped out of her grasp and soared away from the chocolate pool: one exploded on contact with Snake's face and drenched him in syrup, two popped on the sharp corners of Zool's frame, one bounced off of Mira's upturned elbow and landed all over Twister Green with a burst of multicolor sprinkles, one zipped through a briefly opened shadow path and rolled to a halt against barrier spells in Yui-chan's home.

 

*****

 

Tzimfemme swam through the chocolate with lazy, open-mouthed strokes. Wonder if I could dredge up that nekkidness enchantment for the pool at least, she thought as she swam over to the dark chocolate tap and increased the flow. It wouldn't do to have this sullied by clothing. Grinch would roll over in his grave, or at least one of his feet would. 'Nekkid despite all the Whos down in Whoville' indeed. . .and so was most of Angels of Apocalypse. . .and so was most of A Tribe Called Joat, although that was less due to the Tzimcults than to getting eighty lunatics to agree on a uniform. . . .For that matter, Tzimfemme had never sworn allegiance to a guildleader that DID wear underwear. Funny, that.

 

Her eyes were shut as she lay under the running tap, floating on her back, but she still turned her head when he stopped at poolside. Tzimfemme waded over to the stairs and stepped out of the pool. The chocolate was too thick to drip from her hair when she shook her head, instead puddling slightly at her feet as it ran down her skin.

 

"Hey, Orlan."

 

Orlan scooped her up (the chocolate refusing to stain his suit) and tossed her back into the pool a split second after she stole his underwear and winged it sideways into the undies pile, then dived in after her. His suit remained standing obediently at poolside.

 

*****

 

Like the lifelines of a thousand spiders, the silver strands ran from person to person to Rosemary, feathery but becoming visible to a few others besides herself. Above the multitude of new princes and princesses, they clung together like cotton candy with a few significant holes in the floss. Demigods knotted together into a sign of power which floated across the wrong three dimensions. Even the stars lent threads to the party, moored to the telescopes and astrolabes as they were. She counted the beads along one spiral of her surcoat and judged the time until equinox, then hurried to each of the living nexuses: Peredhil standing in a gap between all, the perfect zero of a circle of a sphere of eternal centripetal being; Xaious adrift in time and multiverse, the only one here who could reach her own zero-point; the Dreamer, whose fusion she had witnessed, and maybe midwifed, if you so counted being a single female step away from that zero-point where the Zadowns had now never been. To each of these she drifted, and spoke, when the light overtakes the dark, watch over one. She left Minta's darkwood daggers sheathed safely in the lapels of Xaious' jacket, slipped Tzimfemme's flail into a pocket of unlaw tethered to the Dreamer, and presented Rydia's coiled whip to Peredhil with no concealment.

 

*****

 

Forward right, step right, pivot, step left, backward left--

 

Rydia's skirt flared and sequins sparkled during the turn, flashing from above and below Starlight's arm. Boaz worked himself into the dance on the opposite side from Joat.

 

Forward right, step right, pivot, step left, backward left--

 

"It's good to see you. . .two. . .here, thought you would still be in Norrath--" he began, while the few dozen froglok princes and princesses paired off in a line with the quartet--

 

Forward right, step right, pivot, step left, backward left--

 

"--but you must have come out to see me, 'cause you like me better than Joat."

 

Forward right, step right!

 

SLAPSLAPSLAPSLAPSLAP!

 

Boaz and Joat failed to step along with the frogloks' leaps and were clobbered by several dozen webbed appendages. Starlight absently generated a forcefield which repelled amphibipeds, and they formed a wake of fallen dancers as the dance got more wild.

 

*****

 

The golden gosling paddled around in one of the trolls' half-eaten borscht bowls. Melba would be livid when she found out Glogg had taken bites out of the bowl (and worse yet, not finished his supper), so he had, in a burst of trollish intellect, placed it behind her. Mother Goose hadn't noticed that either--she was incensed about the hundreds of partygoers who had materialized and not a ONE had offered the teensiest bit of courtesy, let alone admittance fee. These Pen duckies would let everything go to seed if she didn't help.

Edited May 18, 2004 by Quincunx

[Zadown]

The unmistakable laughter of Minta brough the Dreamer away from his reverie and sent his train of thought carreering to a completely new direction.

 

Almost forgot the gifts!

 

He started whispering with a cajoling tune. This time magic did not whirl around him or eerie lights dance in his wake - the faint words travelled away, triggered something already enchanted.

 

Far away.

 

Or well, even further than that.

 

Here, yes here ... where ancient wars had ravaged the Lost Paths, broken planes and scattered the Void with debris of a thousand different places. Lone skulls drifted through the void, still showing the fractures they had gotten ages ago. Here and there weapons of deadly enchantment floated undisturbed, the skeletons of a few unfortunate corpse robbers strewn between them. In the middle of the field of death and decay was a darker spot, the point where the battle had been most intense. The area still bubbled with mana residues, half-formed bloodcurses and souls that had not been strong enough to escape the gravity of this graveyard. In the very epicentre of the devastation two dead corpses were left in last embrace, generals or lieutenants of the armies that had fought here: the mummified corpses of a great dominion, wings still unearthly white, on the desiccated face a look of mixed sadness and fury, and a death slaad, a great 20 foot tall, frog-like titan of malice and chaos, still grinning and still gripping a greatsword in both hands.

 

Here the words the Dreamer had whispered arrived, touched the sigil burned into the slaad and made it flicker with ghostly light. A shudder ran through the huge beast and something moved in its rotten eyes. It shuddered again and pushed its killer's corpse away, flexing and unflexing its dead muscles. And then it vanished, only the swords remaning to rotate in empty Void.

 

Only to appear right below Minta with a resounding crash. The whole building swayed slightly, making her lose her balance even with the skeletal support and fall. The mummified death slaad acted faster than most beings alive, snatching Minta from air. She stared at the rotting face as large as she was from head to toe, huge jaws half-open and greenish light burning faintly in the deep eyesockets.

 

"YAAAAAAYYYYY! Froggy zombie!"

 

"It's all yers, Minta. Happy birthday! I'm afraid I had to leave the swords it held behind, I remember Rydia saying something about no metal weapons for ya."

 

She was only half-listening, already climbing to the neck of his new mini-Godzilla to test drive it. Grinning at the sight, the Dreamer walked away to find Rydia. She should be somewhere in the direction of the dance floor...

[The Portrait of Zool]

Grimmael set Zool down near the buffet, which was good as a great many people were sampling the many delights set out. Xaious came by, and Finnius too, but they were quickly swept away by the swelling tide of revelry. Everywhere was laughter, food, music... Something strange was moving Zool. He could feel it, but had trouble putting his finger on it. Magic was in the air, that was for certain.

 

"Curse this curse! What I wouldn't give for glass of that sucker punch!" said Zool. "Grimmael, could you?"

 

Grimmeal immediately set about searching for a magician or a painter, someone who could bridge the canvas barrier, so to speak. He came back hardly a minute later dragging a portly man in a dark tunic with a set of paints, who astonishingly quickly rendered a large glass flagon, the base, handle and lid of fine wrought silver, and filled with a liquid the same tone as the sucker punch of the crystal bowls.

 

As the painter turned to leave, Zool leaned down to Grimmael, complimenting then complaining, "Great work, though unfortunately I don't care if it was painted by Rembrandt himself, it invariably tastes like paint," then he took a sip.

 

Zool's eyes popped out. "WOW! That tastes... *CoOoUGH* GREAT! That man really paints a great glass of punch!"

 

The man was already fading into the crowd, but at Zool's exclamation he turned long enough to give a small smile, a wink, and say, "Dankzegging," before disappearing toward the dance floor.

 

Zool and Grimmael looked at each other. "Where did..." Before Zool could finish his question he was interrupted with the twin *SHPOP!*s of Minta's Happy Unbirthday balloons exploding sugary treats everywhere. Taking a fortifying slug of sucker punch, covered in whipped cream, syrup and sprinkles, and layers of the insistenly invigorating rhythms of DJ Terra Nova, Zool began to feel very good indeed. The surreal scene suddenly reminded him of the preamble to Seal's 'Future Love Paradise':

 

But if only you could see them,

You would know from their faces.

There were kings and queens,

Followed by princes and princesses.

There were future power people,

Throwing love to the loveless.

Shinin' a light 'cause they wanted it seen.

 

Well there were cries of why...

Followed by cries of why not

Can I...

 

"Reach out for you if that feels good to me?" Zool finished half aloud, breaking into a quiet song that only he could hear. Then he laughed. He laughed long and hard - and took another slug from his flagon. The parties spell had him thoroughly in it's grip - and he loved it!

 

"Grimmael!" he shouted to the ceilling.

 

Grimmael had been looking at his master very oddly. Something was coming over him, he could tell - but just 'what' was as yet unpredictable. "Right here Zool."

 

"C'mere."

 

Grimmael bent close to the painting for the whispered instructions. His eyes began to get bigger and bigger as he listened...

[Merelas]

Merelas had appeared from nowhere.

 

In his opinion, he was here only for a few minutes, and then he was back off to his room to sleep off the effects of last nights "outing".

 

But seeing Zool at the bar, and Grimmael so obviously uneasy, he decided he simply had to stay and see what was next.

 

He quickly walked over to the punch, poured himself a glass, and contemplated having Gyrfalcon or Salinye bespell it for him, before shaking it off.

 

He could stay constant here, he thought.

[Mira]

After several rounds of everyone's favorite game, Twister, Mira though it would be a good time to hit the open bar, and do some mingling. Not having attended any of Wyvern's other parties, he didn't know how dangerous a proposition this was.

 

Some time latter Mira found himself surrounded by a crowed of very green, very slimy princesses, or at least, former princesses. He had struck up a conversation with a few of them and they had really hit it off. He didn't know if it was his irresistible charm, the abundance of drink, or the misfiring of some magical spell that had turned in his favor, but before he knew it he was neck deep in beautiful princesses, and he liked it. After a while of talk, the drink took its toll on Mira and he began feverishly kissing the princesses, as well as anyone else who may have gotten in the way. He got so wrapped up in kissing that he didn’t even notice that the number of princesses surrounding him was dwindling, while at the same time the number of frogs around him began to grow almost exponentially. In almost no time he was surrounded by dozens of croaking frogs, some of which he was sure he had kissed even after their amazing transformation. Disappointed, but to inebriated to be shocked, he made his way toward the bar, this time for a glass of water to wash down the swamp taste.

[Alaeha]

"Come on, we're going to be late!" Aleyn yelled back as he ran toward the party.

 

"We're already late." Jirah reminded him. "Now, you've got your underwear, I have mine. And Alaeha..."

 

"I have my haiku." She glared at him. "And you are to remember that you owe me dearly."

 

"I know. I know. But how were we supposed to get two unique pairs of underwear? Or even one?"

 

"Just give them to Melba and be done with it." She said, turning her back on both men in disgust as they reached the gates.

 

"Underclothing, gentlemen." She prompted the pair. "No undies, no entries."

 

Jirah reached into his bag, and withdrew a pair of slightly worn white boxers. "These should do." He said, smiling as he handing them to the ogress.

 

"Sorry, gent, the rules are quite clear. Unique undies only." She reminded him, gesturing the trolls forward.

 

"I know they're meant to be unique. These are. Alaeha here charmed them off of some drunk." The trolls paused for a moment as Jirah spoke.

 

"There's hardly anything unique about that." Melba snorted, beckoning the trolls closer again, "That girl could charm the pants off most sober men."

 

"But how many women could make the man forget that he'd given them to her... without anything untoward occuring?" He smirked.

 

The ogress heaved an immense sigh, gesturing the trolls back as they neared. "Fine." She turned to Aleyn. "And what about you? Yours don't take a bad story, do they?"

 

Aleyn blushed for a moment as he reached into his bag and withdrew what looked at first to be a pile of knotted string, and handed it to Melba. With a raised eyebrow, she stretched the string out.

 

"Fishnet panties?" She choked.

 

Aleyn choked as well, and bolted past the trolls and into the party as they smirked, chuckled, and then outright guffawed at the boy. Alaeha turned around at the sound of running, and sighed as her brother disappeared into the throng.

 

She looked Melba straight on and pleaded "Don't ask. Please? Anyway, here's my Haiku." She handed Melba a thin folded sheet of parchment and walked on, muttering the haiku in disgust as she began to search for her "escorts."

 

"Indeed.

 

Hiss spit growl I hate

intruders. Hate you canines.

Sons of bleeps. Hiss spit."

 

Sons of bleeps indeed. Now where had they gotten to? And why were there so many frogs? Restraining the urge to step on the slimies, she sidestepped a game of twister and continued her search.

Edited May 19, 2004 by Alaeha

[Finnius]

As I wandered back down the stairs, it occured to me that if I continued to drink scotch for the rest of the night, I'd be hammered before anything interesting happened. To which end, I set my glass oh-so-carefully right in the middle of the stairwell, at a twist, where it was sure to be found later. I then went to the bathroom... well, because.

 

Anyway, the bathrooms of the Pen have always been one of its best, if most under-rated features. They are generally clean and well-stocked, and if one can ignore the miles-upon-miles of grafitto-tagged conversations that are plastered all over the walls, then one has a will stronger than mine. So it was that I became caught up in the Bathroom Walls of the Pen for the umpteenth time. I was engrossed in something about the 'Muses Rights Movement,' an interesting piece about the disturbing rise in Writer-on-Muse violence.

 

In my concentration, however, I failed to notice that the growling coming from the stall next to me was not, as I had initially though, Wyvern with a backed-up colon, but a large albino crocodile...

 

Long story short, I ended up running out of the bathroom with my pants still around my ankles, and seeing as the door-trolls had stolen my boxers... well, let's just say there were some snickers, some polite laughter, a few gasps, a sword unsheathing, and a slap or two.

 

After getting my pants back up, I calmly explained the situation to the security-trolls in the following manner:

 

"Aahk! Theresa-inthe-omy-witha-andthe-CROCODILE! TOILET... CROCODILE!"

 

The trolls stared at me, bewildered for a moment... must have been the de-pantsing.

Edited May 19, 2004 by Finnius

[Snowz0r]

Hearing the familiar voice of Minta the neato necro gnomie girl, Tempestt chucks the rest of the end of beef he was chewing to his little pet and strides over to see Minta astride this huge monstrousity.

 

"Oiiiiii, Mintaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa" yells Tempestt

 

"hihHIhiHihihiHiii!!" screams back Minta

 

Tempestt scrambles up the giant undead frog lookalike "thing" right next to Minta and produces a giant Velium brawlstick.

 

"Here ya go Minta" says Tempestt with an evil grin. "pssst, its made outta candy canes, fudge, peppermint patties, cinnamon drops, lemonheads, butterscotch, rock candy, taffy and filled inside with chewy chewy caramel!!!"

[Wyvern]

"Fire elf!"

 

Merelas turns his head from his calm moment of lounging as loud music begins blasting in his area.

 

"Fire elf, Fire elf

Watcha gonna do,

Watcha gonna do when your flames turn blue?!

Fire elf!"

 

Merelas' jaw drops open as several trolls wearing stealth camoflauge uniforms jump into the room by means of the hole in the Conservatory roof, directing their unstable bungi cords towards Minta's slaad and using the creatures back as a slide. The half-fire elf stutters as the trolls immediatly begin surrounding his area in a loosely knit circle, whipping out several large spiked bats and waving them in the air as the music plays. Merelas cringes when he notices that the human-sized stealth uniforms of the trolls are two sizes too small for their bodies, and raises a brow as the music dies down and a human walks to the front of the circle.

 

"We're clear." mutters Jim into a walkie-talkie, adjusting the contact device on his ear and shooting a cold glance towards Merelas. As he does so, a prince with a major in cinematography elegantly aims his video camera at the scene, gesturing to several princesses in the hopes of getting Merelas' make-up done before the final showdown of the event.

 

"So." grumbles Jim, taking two steps towards Merelas and nodding to several trolls as they take out their bats. "Thought you could get into the party without an entry fee, did you? Thought you could just hide your blazing boxer shorts at home, did you? Yeah, I know your type..."

 

"Now wait a minute-" starts Merelas.

 

"You have the right to remain silent, to remain immobile, and to cease breathing." counters Jim as several trolls begin to approach and princesses start combing Merelas' hair while adding make-up. "Anything you say, do, think of saying, think of doing, or would secretly like to do somewhere in the suppressed corners of your mind, will be held against you at buffet table #12. And yes, that is the buffet table containing the mutant pirahna gumbo platter."

 

"B-b-but, I-"

 

"Give him ten seconds to hand over the undergarments." says Jim to the trolls as he begins walking away. "Then smash!"

 

Elsewhere, inbetween buffet table #8 and the dancefloor of the party...

 

Wyvern stands beside a group of chic princes, entranced by their conversation.

 

"Why yes, Frederick... I do run a multi-million dollar company on the side, but simply for pleasure."

 

"Oh, how invigorating that sounds Charles! Mind you, I'd simply love to run a few corporations here and there, but these days I seem to spend all of my free time counting my money. It's so very easy to lose track, isn't it Adam?"

 

"Indeed it is Charles. You should have seen the last time my butlers brought out my money bags, Frederick. It required four fork lifts, and a..."

 

Adam's voice trails off as the three nobles notice Wyvern observing them.

 

"Say..." Frederick whispers to Charles. "Is it just my imagination, or is that cad of a fashion statement focussing his attention on us?"

 

"Indeed he is... and drooling at that! Why it simply can't be healthy."

 

Wyvern ignores the remarks of the three nobles as dreams of fortune begin to completely occupy his thoughts. The lizards reverie is broken, however, as another noble politely taps him on the shoulder. Turning around, Wyvern is promptly smacked in the face by an iron glove.

 

"That was for my sisters nephew, who you disregarded in your commonwealth uprising scheme, you cad!"

 

Wyvern slowly recovers from the hit, grumbling and rubbing his aching snout in pain as the enraged noble storms off from the party. Quickly turning his attention to the lovely Alaeha who had just entered the party and was currently surveying the Twister boards, the lizard hisses to himself sinisterly as naughty thoughts wash over him. Snickering to himself and holding a bloody nose, the lustful lizard swiftly wanders towards Alaeha in the hopes of challenging her to a game of Twister and "accidentally" misplacing his claws on inappropriate spots when playing. Upon reaching Alaeha, the lizard flashes a razor-sharp grin and smoothly hisses:

 

"Hi Alaeha, glad you could make it this evening. Hey, listen, would you be up to maybe drinking a few bottles of Almost Draconic Tango Mandarine Bitter-sweet Stomach Mailting Crawfish Wine™, preferably enough to make the world look like a blur to you, and then playing an intense game of Twister with me?"

 

Alaeha's face goes blank as she overhears the proposition, and her right hand slowly coils into slapping formation as she notices the lizard rubbing his scaly palms together in over-confident excitement.

[The Big Pointy One]

It was late... but for Stick, that just ment being fashionable. And fashionable he was. Decked out to the nines in his finest green dancing pants that were topped off with a loose white shirt covered with a shimmering darker green vest, Stick was ready to go. Down the halls he skidded on bare feet until he could hear the chatter of party-goers. He assumed a slow walk as if he actually planned on arriving late, and passed the line of increasingly bored non-invitees. He grinned one of his most roguish grins as he passed some of the finer ladies in the line, but his attention focused on Melba. Rarely meeting up with the large demon... or was she a woman? Stick wasn't sure. Regardless, he hadn't met her that often, which was good news for the both of them. Sometimes, Stick could be as much trouble as Wyvern. Maybe. Regardless, he bowed an elopquent bow and presented his invitation.

 

"Ah, Mr.One, I assume? Or is it Mr.Big Pointy? Mr.Stick? The?"

 

"Stick is fine, m'lady."

 

Melba grunted, "So, your gift...?"

 

"Ah yes, but of course." With another over-eloquent bow, Stick produces a fine (unrumpled, no less!) pair of deep, dark green silk boxers. Oddly though, these boxers are connected to a pair of blue silk boxers, which are connected to a pair of red boxers, which are connected to a pair of white boxers... and they just keep coming! Stick keeps pulling on his pocket, pausing momentarily when a pair of woman's underwear is revealed after a pair of loose blue and black polka-dot boxers. Blushing slightly, Stick shrugs and continues tugging until a pile of boxers, all tied together dwarfs the pile of boxers already received.

 

Melba mutters something under her breath about wisecracking... and bone-cracking, which Stick takes as an open invitation for him to enter. Within a few moments, he drifts around the room, offering grins and nods, polite bows and hugs; all without a word, however. There would be time for chatting later. His stomache suddenly distracted him. Making his way over to one of the buffet tables that seemed currently abandoned, Stick waved for everyone to watch.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, for my first trick of the evening, I shall make the contents of this table disappear!" With a few non-magical waves of his hand, Stick grunted, kneeled down and tried to lift the table up by the legs that were closest together, but to no avail. Grinning nervously, he stood up, waved his arms non-magically again, and scooped up the ends of the table cloth in one, ran quickly to the other side of the table and scooped up the other ends of the table cloth in his other hand. Wasting no time for flourishes, he yanked the table cloth off the table, swung it around and up. Flicking his wrists sharply, he bounced the entire bunched contents of the table into the air above his head. Normally, this kind of act would splatter everyone watching, but in a defiance of physics and reality, Stick seemed to devour every single morsel of food on the table before they hit the ground. He wiped the side of his mouth with a napkin, burped a little, then bowed. As he got up, everything seemed... different... somehow...

 

The room spun, and his vision blurred and swirled. Colours he had thought he had ensured had not existed were suddenly there, wielding cudgels. Dead relatives of the past were hanging around wearing lampshades. Joat's frogs were now graduated from high school, and getting ready for college. It was nuts. What Stick didn't know, was that he had inadvertantly consumed a whole bowl of Sucker Punch. At this moment his blood:sugar ratio was about 1:99. Sure, legally he could be considered dead, but somehow, he functioned. Not normally, but he functioned. (Although, this wouldn't be too far from normal for stick.) Suddenly, his attention seemed to focus on a rather attractive fish swimming in what appeared to be a sea of chocolate. In fact, it seemed to be drowning! He had to save her! Shedding all his clothes (much to the aghast of everyone still watching!) Stick quickly made his way over to the chocolate-mud wrestling-arena and dove in. It was a *lot* shallower then expected, and Stick landed on his belly, *HARD*, splattering chocolate everywhere with a deafening "SPLEEEARCHTT!" Eventually, he recovered from the belly flop, and began attempting a doggy style. Doggy paddle. One of the two. Unfortunately though, it took him about five minutes to realise his eyes were completely covered in chocolate. Or at least, it took him about five minutes to realise he couldn't see.

 

"I've been blinded! Those buggers! They've blinded me! They want that fish all to themselves! Blast them! Oh wait! I know! I can use my SONAR powers! Sweet!"

 

Stick began emitting beeping noises and listening for echoes, but it was to no avail, he didn't actually have SONAR powers. It didn't stop him however, from flopping around in circles on the choco-mud arena floor. As usual, it was going to be a classy night for Stick...

 

[Xaious, Master of Time]

Xaious wandered around the dancefloor a little while, passing in and out of the flame that he had, inadvertantly, caused, and then decided to head to the drik table for a bottle of the now brand new creation of Almost Draconic Tango Mandarine Bitter-sweet Stomach Mailting Crawfish Wine, as he hadn't actually tasted any. Well, that is to say he had tasted it before, but when he did, the entire world turned to Lovecraftian colors and then woke up the next day pantsless -he could've sworn that Cthulhu himself took that pair of pants - and with an ungodly headache. But regardless of that, he wanted more.

Along the way, he noticed Wyvern attempting to get Aleaha to dtink the same horendously powerful liquor, and thought he heard him say something about enough to make the world swin in colors, and thought to himself 'So he wants her to merely have a taste of this stuff, eh?'.

So he walked passed this - and thought he heard someone behind him get slapped, and hard too - straight to the table that now housed this uber-strong drink.

And he would need a lot of time if he was going to not kill himself on this, and slowed time down dramatically, giving everyone the impression that he was being very very hyper. And also giving the impression that he swallowed a whole bottle in about 20 seconds.

It was closer to a month's worth of time, but let them see what they wanted, eh?

And this way they couldn't see him doing any of the things he did do.

But, when time would resume as normal....

Wyvern would notice a countdown timer in his hand.

Stick would notice a very confusing puzzle in his pocket.

Minta would notice that her frog was now a sickeningly bright and cute hot-pink color.

Finnius would find that he was suddenly adrift in mid air; falling from a great height.

And Celes would find that her cat's fur was braided, and herself a fair bit woozy, with a hint of the scent of Vodka and Almost Draconic Tango Mandarine Bitter-sweet Stomach Mailting Crawfish Wine on her dress.

And then he let time resume, so he could watch the oddness unfold.

[Finnius]

So I was talking to Pered up on the roof after the Crocodile-in-the-bathroom fiasco, and I must have slipped or something, because next thing that I knew, I was tumbling backwards through the hole made when Orlan had entered. Then I was landing... on something... squishy... and smelly... and... uh oh.

 

I opened my eyes, only to be met with the considering, (Well, as considering as she ever gets.) gaze of one seriously perturbed Minta. I had landed on the back of her new toy, the giant Slaad.

 

"Hehe... hey... you..." Minta scrunched up her face, got into that 'I'm about to scream bloody murder and there's nothing you can do about it, and you're going to have to deal with it, and it ain't gonna be pretty' mode that I've seen so many times. And with Minta, that usually involved people getting hurt. I reacted in the calmest, most reasonable manner that I could think of.

 

I grinned, waved, said "Sorry 'bout that!" and rolled off the thing's back. Twenty feet later...

 

A resounding *THWACK* echoes through the room, accompanied by a generous splatter of chocolate, as a little blue man smacks into the surface of the cocoa-mud pit.

[Lady Celes Crusader]

Celes is wondering how come she's feeling that fuzzy. She thought that she havent drank much. Perhaps there's something in Wyvern's vodka that makes her dizzy. However, Cambronne looks a little weirder with his braided fur. The poor thing is already trying to undo the braids but with no success.

 

- Hum... this dress smells weird... It's fortunate that I've already have my presents ready for the Quincunox.

 

Indeed, Celes gave Rydia a shiny pendant, Minta a huge pink Lollipop, Rosemary a bloodoll and Tzimfemme a sculpture of a nekkid man make with flesh. Celes decides to sit by the telescope so she can relax a bit before continue to party.