Cerulean's Masquerade - A Party...

[Peredhil]

Mindspawn

 

Crashing through the plastic undergrowth, Mindspawn/Tyrion almost bumps into Cerulean for the third time. "Ah, there you are, Cery! I have found the locust hideout, and I think I spotted Harpy, too. Follow me!"

As he takes Cerulean by the hand, Mindspawn notices the tell-tale streaks of tears in the grime otherwise covering her face, but decides not to comment on it. Instead, he leads the way through the plastic jungle towards the locust camp, an oil flask at the ready in the other hand.

 

The two of them silently arrive at the outskirts of the camp and, cautiously peering through the branches, are just in time to observe the peculiar exchange between Harpy and Finnius. "Wha...", Mindspawn begins, before he is silenced by a pointed look from Cerulean. They withdraw for a whispering conversation.

 

"Well, it seems Harpy needs some serious straightening out. I guess that's your job, Cery." Cerulean grudgingly agrees, wincing at the thought. "But first we must get rid of all these locusts... hmm, I made some notes earlier that might come in handy. Let's see... ah, here it is: Locusts lack fire/breath resistance."

 

Mindspawn holds up his scribbled notes to the light. "There is something more here, at the top, but it's smudged and hard to read..." He bends closer down over his notes and continues:

 

"Azhag nazkhul..." Cerulean immediately recognizes the first few words of the incantation for Inferno, but by the time she reaches out to stop Mindspawn from reading any more, it is already too late. The jungle all around them, and the entire locust camp, has already started to smoulder and ignite, while the power of the spell is still building in a rapid crescendo...

 

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

Seekers of Babylon (SoB) - BG

-Scholars Order

-Dragon Knights Order

 

"So many good ideas have to be discarded, simply because they won't work."

-David Eddings, The Sapphire Rose

 

Embraced by the darkness, breathing it in.

[Peredhil]

Black

 

Not have been given enough time to get an answer he follow the two. He made almost no noise well he went along as a wolf form.

"I have to find out whats going on. It will eat at me all day if I dont. If anyone asks Im one of Canids wolf friends. Not really a mage but it will do." He thought to himself when he saw the action as they did.

 

"Ah so there you are finnius...I had wondered where you went. When I came back you were gone. So this is whats been up?" He thought again.

[Peredhil]

Finnius

 

OOC: Keep in mind, Knight, I was in a cage.

BIC: The intrepid wolflike blue mage turns tail to run, but smacks face-first into the cage.

 

Guess that stuff ain't out of my system yet. (Nope, not by any means.)

 

The locusts, of course, find this insanely funny. They rub their legs together, which makes a loud click-click-clicking. More importantly, it creates friction. Seeing as there are several million of the tiny troubadours by this point, that friction is not completely negligible.

 

Meanwhile, somewhere behind a very ragged looking Silexion,

 

Pekkle was getting tired of tramping through the filthy plastic jungle. It was hot, there were bugs, and Silexion appeared to be lost. Luckily for her, Pekkle had a way out. Time for a flashback!

 

Remember, if you will, waaaaay back when Finnius first gave Pekkle to Cerulean. First, he gave her something else. A necklace, which she was then coerced to put on. Only then did Pekkle pop out of the box and hug Cery. The rest, as the say, is history. That necklace was the beacon, by which Pekkle would know who Cerulean was. And, more importantly, where she was.

 

OK, now that the flashback is over, back to Pekkle!

 

Pekkle had a way out of the third-floor jungle. Without warning to Silexion, she began to go find Cerulean.

[Peredhil]

Scarlett O'Harpy

 

Scarlett hides her wicked smirk behind one hand as she brushes it over her face in the manner of one now overcome with emotion.

"Forgive my uncharitable outburst Finnius", she cackles, "Simply the excitement of a blushing bride to be!"

 

Her squeals of mirth bubble up once more, and she coughs loudly to conceal them. She then coughs again, genuinely this time. The air seems to be heavier of late, and hotter too.

 

"Well, how does this go?" She sniggers, "Oh yes, I believe I have to accept!" More peals of laughter. She thrusts the bone deep into the cage, rattling it menacingly on the bars, before jabbing the blue wolf repeatedly until he's on his knees.

 

"Oh I will, I absolutely will have you!" She cries nastily. Her eyes gleam with the formulation of a heinous plan. A plan she is not about to reveal just yet...

 

Without so much of a back glance to the shocked Finnius, Harpy wheels around and barks orders at her Generals.

 

"Prepare for the nuptials immediately. There's no time to waste!"

 

Frowning, Scarlett considers her makeshift jungle outfit. Nekkidness had proved a handicap in this terrain. Examining her costume, she notes knee high khaki boots, fishnet stockings which can be used to strangle silently, short leather skirt that can double as a saddle, very short t-shirt to expose diamond-studded compass belly piercing, pashmina that turns into a grappling hook...* This will not do for her wedding outfit, will not do at all!

 

Scarlett orders her minions to set about making a costume, writing invitations, and organising a banquet. Hands on hips the pint sized mage oversees the Locusts' scurrying obsequiousness with a smile which positively drips venom.

 

*Costume design by Woods -- Sartorial Consultant of Terror -- I mean Terra

 

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

Scarlett O'Harpy

 

The two phases of fire are craving and satiety

[Peredhil]

Cerulean

 

Cerulean is still clutching Mindspawn's hand tightly as she tries desperately to figure out a way forward. If her Goat were here, he'd know what to do, she muses. But he isn't, and so she'll simply have to make the best of things in his absence.

She views another odd exchange in the distance between Harpy and the captive, but cannot make out any details. It seems there is a flurry of activity in the Camp itself, however, as Locusts dash to and fro in a blur of manic activity. One Locust strays a touch too far into the crackling spell burst. Thrown over backwards, glinting in the burnished light, struggling like an orchestra, he's taken by the dip and scoff of the creeping fire.

 

The tension is relieved somewhat as Pekkle approaches, trailed distantly by a bemused Silexion. Black and Knight enter stealthily a moment or two later, like some understated chess gambit.

 

Cerulean requests her friends sit silently awhile and observe the proceedings. She catches the distinct smell of smoke in the air, as embers sparkle and break into tongues of flame. The Camp is not yet encircled by fire, but it will not be long. She must save Harpy before the whole is engulfed. At least as an Eradication mage, Scarlett has some protection. Perhaps the greatest strategy is patience. Surely soon the Locusts will be smoked out and disorganised, helpless to defend, or else will expire under Scarlett's command. Then, and only then, can she and her Commandos storm the base, and drag out the Queen of the Locusts.

 

Face sombre, Cerulean sits back and waits.

 

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

Cerulean

 

Dark Mistress of the Desert

Guardian of the sacred stick of celery

Member of: Scarlet or Blue? - SoB - BG

Babe who is the Color of the Sky of The Great God and Pharaoh Nanotoknonnen

[Peredhil]

Wyvern

 

Meanwhile, two floors below the main chain of events...

Wyvern slowly lifts himself from the dirty Conservatory floor, drying his tears. He turns to Jerry and murmers

 

"Thank you Jerry... for your words of... errrmmm... comfort..."

 

Jerry smiles and nods, heading off to converse with other party members...

 

Wyvern then turns to Yui.

 

"Yui... Thank you for calming me in my brief period of mourning."

 

Yui blushes and mutters "It was nothing Wyv... If there's any way I can help you, please feel free to ask..."

 

Wyvern takes Yui's hand in his own... the two are silohetted in a brief moment of clarity. Staring deep into Yui's eyes, in his most concerned and serious voice, he asks

 

"Would you take of your cloths and dance up on the stage?"

 

On hearing this remark, Yui's face goes red with rage. Furious, she socks Wyvern in the face, kicks him in the spleen, lands an uppercut under his chin and finishes her combo by performing a dazzling 360 degree round-house kick that sends Wyvern flying over one of the party tables into a punch bowl (the one that has the pink squirrel swimming in it). Muttering to herself something about lizards, she heads off in a rage...

 

Wyvern lifts himself from the punch bowl in a daze, only to find himself next to Haruchi, who is busy munching on chocolate covered locusts. Wyv crosses his arms and glares at Haruchi angrily, tapping one foot on the floor. On turning and seeing Wyverns current facial expression, Haruchi swallows a chocolate covered down the wrong pipe and begins choking on the candy coated insect.

 

Wyvern yells "Haruchi! These locusts are all you're fault! You poor excuse for an Orlan!" With that he begins strangling the already choking Haruchi... but is interrupted as a little piece of smoldering ash falls from a crack in the ceiling. He leaves Haruchi to choke by himself as he goes to examine it...

 

Wyvern, as well as a number of the other archmages in the party, examine the small piece of burning dust that had fallen from the ceiling. Something big was happening upstairs... there was no doubt about that. The smoke emitted by the ash gradualy rises to the proximity of the fire alarms...

 

"Oh NO!!!" exclaims Wyvern while desperatly trying to cover the ash... but it's too late. A number of Conservatory fire alarms go off and the entire dance floor is drenched as sprinklers go off in all directions... Archmages franticaly try to keep themselves dry, but are ultimately unsuccessfull in doing so... Suddenly, a mage calls out "Hey, wait a minute... this isn't water... It's booze!!!" Upon hearing this, all the archmages turn their heads to Wyvern.

 

"Yes..." Wyvern mutters "It's booze from the Decanter... I filled all the sprinklers with with it. It was going to be a big surprise... just when I thought things couldn't get any worse..." He sighs.

 

Little did Wyvern know that the booze-filled sprinklers of the third floor had also gone off. The Decanter's fabled fluid, a highly flammable substance, rains down upon an already enormous inferno. On the third floor, things were getting very hot indeed...

 

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

Wyvern

...almost a dragon.

 

Proud Owner of the Decanter of Endless Booze.

 

Diplomat and representitive of Succubi or Bust (S.o.B )-BG

Unofficial member of the Mr. Bunny fan club.

"GIVE ME A CARROT GODDAMMIT!" -Mr. Bunny

[Peredhil]

Mindspawn

 

Looking about him with a perplexed expression, Mindspawn realizes his dreadful mistake. Still, the spell ought to just incinerate everything in a wide area in a hellish storm of fire, not advance at an almost leisurely rate, setting fire to one tree after another... strange, indeed.

Then, he notices that the Chaos Ward is once more pinned to the front of Cerulean's dress. She must have put it back on after reclaiming it from Wyvern. Its presence here and, perhaps more importantly, the fact that she is still holding onto his hand, must be the explanation for the peculiar behaviour of the spell.

 

His scientific instincts almost make him release her hand in order to write this down, before he thinks better of it and instead grabs on more tightly, deciding that science can wait.

 

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

Seekers of Babylon (SoB) - BG

-Scholars Order

-Dragon Knights Order

 

"So many good ideas have to be discarded, simply because they won't work."

-David Eddings, The Sapphire Rose

 

Embraced by the darkness, breathing it in.

[Peredhil]

Haruchi

 

By virtue of his amazing flexibility, Haruchi is able to put his foot in his mouth and grasp the lodged chocolate locust with his toes. Impressed by his own efforts, Haruchi stands up with his foot still in mouth and swallows it. Fortunately, an old war wound enables Haruchi to dislocate his shoulder at will (with the aid of a concrete pillar), and thus he is finally able to give himself the Heimlich Manoeuver. His foot comes shooting from his mouth like a flamebolt would, if he had the capacity to shoot flamebolts from his mouth, throwing him offbalance and into a concrete pillar. The pillar cracks, spitting dust and plaster into the air, and snapping Haruchi's shoulder back into place with a loud crack.

Haruchi blinks a tear from his eye and spits out a mouthful of concrete and both front teeth. He watches Wyvern slowly drawing away into the distance.

 

"But Wyv," he murmurs " ... they really are tasty ... and they taste like chocolate chicken, too."

 

Haruchi licks his fingers clean, his ears haunted by Wyvern's parting remark. Was it true? Was this whole locust infestation really his fault? He had to admit there was an element of truth to it. If he hadn't upset Orlan/Supermummy by coming as Orlan, there'd have been no need to call the Swarm in the first place. And if he hadn't dived into the Pool of Booze, the locusts wouldn't have gotten drunk and gone looking for imposters ... at a Masquerade.

 

Haruchi sighed and licked the last bit of chocolate from under his toenails. It really was his fault. Come to think of it, if he hadn't sent those crank Archmails, that war between the Tribe and Tarakians would never have started either. And if he hadn't made some innocent remark about fruit salad, the realm of Ager would have been far calmer. In fact, if he hadn't lost his virginity to a Russian babuschka some 17 years ago, as an unexpected part of a primary school field project, MishaNiz would have remained a twinkle in his mother's eye, and thus it seemed obvious that all the multimages were also his fault. And all those arguments in the banquet halls across the lands, too. Not to mention the world-wide chocolate shortage, or the breakup of that famous guild of bards, the Beatles. If he hadn't stopped that rolling stone, it might have had a chance to gather moss ... and then there was that time he threw Mick the Jagger through a glasshouse wall ....

 

Haruchi cringed as he considered what Orlan/Supermummy would do if he found out the reason for the lack of chocolate was his purchase of the year's harvest for the new Chocolate Locust ™ line. Perhaps he would forgive him if he promised to cut him in for a piece of the action .. that is, unless the Great God and Pharoah .. or was that Orlan ... already knew what he was doing, which he undoubtably did, being a Great God and Pharoah, and since he had not already undertaken steps to prevent it, he must assent.

 

Haruchi probed the gap where his two front teeth used to be with his tongue, whistling tunelessly. He knew he had to do something to make amends for his many grievous sins. Perhaps ...

 

 

OOC - fast forward - feel free to incorporate the following at any time in this thread it seems appropriate, or not at all

 

Haruchi set the bag down on the floor. Inside could be seen the faint shimmer of gold.

 

"Get em here! Get your Shiny Gold-foil Wrapped Chocolate Grasshoppers here!"

 

It was a good thing he hadn't forgotten that locusts shed their skins when they grow, or they'd have never realised that the Swarm was really a conspiracy by the Grasshoppers to make the locusts look bad in front of the whole of Terra. Who would have thought that "Summon Locust Swarm" would have aroused such proffessional envy?

 

Haruchi handed the Shiny Gold-foil wrapped Chocolate Grasshopper over to another customer, taking the gold coin with a murmurred thanks and tossing it over his shoulder to the Great God and Pharoah, Nanotoknonnen.

 

"Unnnnhhhhhhhhh ... I, the Great God and Pharoah, am very wise indeed to have led you, oh White Jackal, but not bad as white jackals go, to ensure that I, the Great God and Pharoah, Nanotoknonnen, do have an endless supply of both gold and locusts to do my bidding ... not that I, the Great God and Pharoah Nanotoknonnen would ever suffer a shortfall, being a Great God and Pharoah."

 

Haruchi bowed his head before the great God and Pharoah, resplendant in his hot tub, then watched with just a hint of envy as Harpy, Cerulean and all the other babes of Terra scrubbed his bandages. Oh well ... at least the Great God and Pharoah was too busy to see him skimming off the top. Or was that Orlan... ?

[Peredhil]

Silexion

 

After being poked, prodded and inspected by a horde of Locusts, they cut Silexion from his trap.

Squeaky locust voices...

 

"He's a useless Mortal. No power, no magic, what a waste of a good trap!"

"What should we do with him?"

"Release him and point him in the right direction. Warn him that if he doesn't leave we'll eat his liver for breakfast."

"What about that BlueWolf?"

"Ahhh, he is dangerous. And I think our Queen will have a special gastronomic interest in him. Bring him along!"

 

Silexion was released and told to move on; which he does. Well he moved about 20 metres when Pekkle, jumping from her hiding place, pulled him down and out of sight of the Locusts.

 

She pointed to her necklace. As she rotated the gemstone pendant in her fingers it glowed a gentle chartreuse in one direction. Pekkle indicated that they should go in that direction.

 

Silexion and Pekkle crawled through the green plastic jungle. Then, just off to their left, they heard the squeaking of locusts and the unmistakeable sound of something being dragged. They moved closer to the sound.

 

It was Finnius!

 

They followed the caged captive for quite a while. And suddenly they saw that Finnius was being brought to what was evidently the main locust camp. And in the very middle of all the ruckus, the very center of attention, was the three-inch tall objet du désir, Scarlett. With bone in hand!!

 

Watching for a few moments as Finnius was brought to Scarlett, Silexion tried to think of something to help this BlueWolf. He was beginning to get desperate. He fingered the cufflinks and tiepin of his tux. These items were the only parts of his outfit that were not rented. They belonged to his collection of MageWear. They were mana crystals; enough for the casting of significant Magic.

 

He was then distracted by Pekkle, who was again rotating the necklace gemstone. Now it was glowing a brighter blue-green in one orientation.

 

Pekkle pointed; Cerulean was over there!

 

Silexion dropped one of the mana crystals into his pocket and he and Pekkle quietly slithered toward Cerulean's location.

 

Suddenly the forest began to smoke and sputter with tiny flames. It became difficult to navigate by anything but the glowing necklace.

 

Silexion then spotted Cerulean.

Just a few metres ahead and holding tightly onto the hand of another Mage.

 

The smoldering, flashing forest fire was encroaching Silexion's and Pekkle's position.

Cerulean and one of her commandoes looked to be in a clearing. They made a fast but stealthy crawl and joined the others undetected.

 

In hushed tones...

 

"Hello, Cerulean. Uh, nice party you're throwing here!"

 

"Silexion! What the hell are you doing? You don't look like you're really prepared for battle!"

 

Silexion removed a mana crystal cufflink from his right sleeve and handed it to Cerulean.

 

"Well, I thought that you could use this."

 

Cerulean looked at Silexion,

"Clever lad."

 

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

Silexion

 

CellarMaster/Cavist

[Peredhil]

Finnius

 

Meanwhile, on the third floor, in front of a fairly tiny alter,

"Do you, Finnius... umm... what's your last name?"

 

How had this gotten so far, in so short a time? Nothing to do now but answer.

 

"Mustardio Jolini-Canard."

 

The not-so-blushing, but stunning-nonetheless, bride looks over at her captive soon-to-be husband, and snickers.

 

"You realize that you'll be taking my last name."

 

"Yes... umm... dear."

 

The locust minister clears his throat noisilly, then continues.

 

"Do you, Finnius Whateveryousaid, take this stunning, but absolutely not blushing goddess to be your lawfully weddied wife?"

 

"You know, Rev, I think we're supposed to make vows first. Or at least, I'd like to."

 

"First, I'm not a reverend, I'm a minister. Second, whatever. Go ahead."

 

The marinated-in-booze mage clears his throat, then speaks very, very slowly.

 

"I... would like to say... that I will... treasure and be there... for you.... forever... but-"

 

"Very nice. Queen Scarlett, anything you'd like to say?"

 

Looking straight at the blue mage, Harpy licks her lips.

 

"I vow that after this honeymoon, one of us will be deliriously happy. Also, I'm sure that with you as my loving husband, I'll never go hungry again."

 

And the wedding goes on

[Peredhil]

Tzimfemme and Rydia

 

First floor: The Tzim Squeaker lolls around the stage, ogling Rapture as he gyrates and flexes. Sure she was being out of character, but hot damn. . .Tzimfemme believed very strongly in not missing opportunites. She passes a large stack of gold to the professional photographer with a note and a SQUEAK:

I’d like a snapshot of RagingGoat too if you got one. Rowr!

 

The photographer smiles, winks, and pockets the gold, then returns to his greatly diminished rounds. Tzimfemme turns back to the stage and continues to drool (the edges of the black hood are getting rather damp) until she sees a familiar face.

 

"Rosemary!" she exclaims, quickly wiping the cowl across her face and forcibly turning her head away from the stage, dropping the notepad in her haste. "I’m glad you’re back and all, but shouldn’t you be back in costume?"

 

"I want you to do something you’ve never done before," commands Rosemary, staring down the kneeling Tzimfemme. "I want you to look me in the eyes."

 

Tzimfemme pushes back her cowl. "Who are you kidding, I’ve been stupid plenty of times," she begins, locking with the sky-blue gaze.

 

Rosemary’s eyes were brown. She had never been Gazed at--Death, Dread, or otherwise--with these eyes.

 

However, she had been spoken to.

 

Tzimfemme's shattering mind drowns out the whisper of blood leaving her body. . .

 

Second floor: Crowds of Gwaihir-Mishas surround Rydia-the-Birdman, chattering and chomping their jaws eagerly. She stands fearlessly in the midst of the slavering hordes, chanting "MDs! Get your bootleg Magical Disks right here! Quest for Glory, Selinora and the Sirenes, I have whatever you want!" She whips out a Quest for Glory MD and pops it in the MD player. Speakers everywhere in the hall throb with the golemy goodness of Quest for Glory’s hit song:

 

CRASH CRASH SMASH!

CRASH CRASH SMASH!

 

"We will, We will, throw rocks at you."

 

The Gwaihir-Mishas begin slam dancing with one another, and soon Rydia is among them with the Killer Carp Tie. She wields it indiscriminately as clones slam, destroying a clone with every THWACK, and whittling down the crowd. Unfortunately, the slam dancing is also damaging the already compromised support pillars of the hall. . .

 

Third floor: "Wheeeeeeeee!"

 

Minta-Nim gets into the white water rapids roller coaster tunnel o’ love casino for the fifty-ninth time. This time she decides to unhook the seatbelt when her car passes the giant blue walrus with all the used bubble gum stuck to his snout. Last time, she had just barely missed flying through the 25,000 point bonus hoop on the third floor. Now was the time! . . .

 

Somewhere in the gardens of the Legion of the White Rose: In midafternoon, Rosemary is dragged awake by distant screaming. . .but can hear nothing.

 

"She’s going to be just as bad," groans Rosemary, as the day-sleep claims her again.

 

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

Tzimfemme (the naked); "No one ever asks 'Why?' until it's far too late"

 

Rydia adorned with pearls; Owner of the Anti-Spam Carp

 

Minta Rose, sunshine and moonlight; Calculus for the Masses!, Server Guilded

 

Proprietress of Happy Hentai Wholesale, Angels of Apocalypse, Ager Guilded

 

Constant Reader and Moderator, General Assembly and Ager Guilded

[Peredhil]

Hydrus

 

Surveying the party on the first floor, Hydrus realises this is not the sort of party he'd thought he'd be coming to.

Suddenly, a distant memory of a poem floats into his head:

 

 

Into this wold abyss,

The womb of nature and perhaps her grave

of neither sea, nor shore, nor air, nor fire....

 

NO! Wrong poem! Hydrus thought harder.

 

Well, we'll drink, drink, drink, drink, and then we'll drink some more, we'll drinkk a spot before we stop and that'll be an awful lot, we have a mug and HO!!!!

 

Then we'll fall upon the floor!

 

Ahh! Yes, the ancient Dwarf drinking song. It, roughly translated, meant if you drink alot, then you can usually forget any troubles.

 

 

Well, excellente!

 

Hydrus heads for the nearest fire sprinkler in order to survive the night....

[Peredhil]

Finnius

 

Third floor, wedding sweet:

"I'm... oh, sweet, merciful Schnikies! How did I get myself into this? Where did I go wrong?"

 

At about this point, Scarlett enters the room. She wears very little, aside from an apron with the words "Don't Feed the Wolves... And I'M the Wolves!" She smiles at the blue mage, pointy teeth glittering in the disco-lights.

 

"Ooooh, Finni-poo, come and get it!"

 

"Umm... gee, I seem to have one monster of a headache. Probably all the booze, you know. Maybe we should just put this off until later."

 

"Awww... poor baby... OK, let's just go to bed."

 

"Thanks... ummm... honey."

 

"Right after dinner!"

 

"Eep."

[Peredhil]

Woods, Crooner from Hell

 

Meanwhile, deep in the woods...

Woods lumbers through the forest, making for home - a rundown wood cabin that is quite literally the ancestral pile. His chance encounter with Cerulean has made him even more morose than normal. He had promised her a song for her birthday, which he had quite patently failed to deliver. And to compound his sins, he had allowed he to wander off alone into the forest, lost and alone. What kind of friend was he? Wholly unreliable at best; callously indifferent at worst. Too late now anyway, he ponders. She's probably been eaten by wolves. Or worse, adopted by them, reared as one of their own, and taught how to sing ropey jazz standards. Woods stumbles on, anticipating an evening in front of his favourite porn movie, 'Autumn Girls Bare All'.

 

It is in this reverie of self-pity that an unmistakable smell reaches the gnarled nostrils of the cowardly Ent. Smoke! Woods halts, turns about, and sniffs the air cautiously. He almost gags. This isn't travellers around a campfire, he concludes, but a huge, spreading forest-fire! The stench is almost too much for Woods to bear, as the ashes of the once stately corpses of his ancestors dance all around him on the breeze. He utters a brief Agnus Dei, getting it wrong as usual.

 

The first instinct of most Ents in this situation would be to head calmly and swiftly for the nearest settlement, find a phantasm mage with Summon Water Elemental in their spellbook and help to evacuate the saplings from the area. Woods first instinct is to turn in the opposite direction and run. His second instinct is to run a bit faster than that demanded by the first instinct. As it happens, his legs are working faster than his subconscious and Woods exuents, pursued lamely by his conscience.

 

But, for perhaps the first time in his selfish life, Wood's conscience isn't left in the dust. And after about three hundred yards in pursuit, it is even beginning to gain on him.

 

"Go away," gasps Woods. "You're a pain in the arse."

"What about Cerulean?" yells his conscience, getting still closer.

"What about her?"

"Well, how about this. You've already left her to get lost in the forest, easy

prey to the first carnivore that happens upon her. And now you're going to let her burn to death. You've really surpassed yourself this time, Woods. First chance I get, I'm requesting a transfer!"

"Good riddance!" wheezes Woods. "You've never done anything but get me into trouble." He glances back, worried despite his bravado. His conscience seems to be getting ever closer.

"Come on, Woods!" implores his conscience. "You know you can't run for long. Any moment now I'm going to bring you around. And, anyway, even your ego agrees with me."

"Bollocks!" shouts Woods. "My ego NEVER agrees with you."

"Tell him, ego" says the conscience smugly.

A new, more confident voice enters the conversation.

"Woods, Woods, You know it makes sense, old chap! Cerulean likes you, she really does. You're her favourite cabaret singer! And just think how much more she's going to like you if you rescue her from certain death! You'll be a hero; and, more germanely, HER hero." Ego concludes this entreaty with a lascivious chuckle.

"Hmmmmm," says Woods, his pacing slowing slightly. "You may just have a point there. She would better wait a minute! What's happened to self-doubt? I want to hear from him!"

"Right you are," chimes in another disembodied voice, as Woods crashes through a hedge, just in front of his conscience. "I have to disagree with ego and conscience, you won't be surprised to hear. You'll never have the remotest chance of rescuing Cerulean. You'd be bound to screw it up in one way or another and, in all likelihood, make matters worse."

"Yeah, good point self-doubt!" says Woods. "Did you hear that, conscience. I'll never manage it."

"'Course you can!" contradicts his ego. "You can do anything you put your mind to! You the man! Or, you the ent rather,"

"Bollocks" snarls Woods, as he feels the brush of his conscience against his back. "How can I possibly stop a full-blown forest fire?"

"Don't ask us," replies Ego, "we're just Freudian ciphers. Have a word with Intelligence."

"Eh?" says Woods. "Intelligence? Don't think I've ever come across him before."

"Ahem," coughs a new, unmistakably feminine voice. "He is a she actually. And she, in consultation with Memory, has concluded that there IS a way, though it is perilous."

"Really?" interrupts Woods, with all the sarcasm his exhausted frame can muster.

"As I was saying," continues Intelligence, "it IS perilous, but nonetheless possible. You must proceed to the central clearing of the forest, where the Temple of Barkus, God of the Ents, stands. It is rumoured that he likes to save the life of one human every year. There is a price for this boon, but you can't remember what it is, I'm afraid."

"How the hell do I know any of this?" says Woods, desperately swerving between the trees to avoid Conscience's grasp.

"God knows," says Intelligence. "Perhaps you're not as stupid as we all thought. Do your stuff, Conscience."

"Arghhhh!" yells Woods, as he is tackled from behind by his conscience, going down in a flurry of branches and leaves. He lies there for several minutes, listening to the distant sound of crackling wood. Gradually, torturously, he lifts himself into a sitting position.

"Ok, ok, you all win!" moans Woods, his eyes scrunched shut. "You'd better try to get hold of Sense of Direction. And let's just hope he's sober."

[Peredhil]

Cerulean

 

Cerulean smiles at Silexion's gift, and reaching forward to accept the mana crystal he offers, breaks her hand clasp with Mindspawn.

The Inferno strikes with dazzling force.

[Peredhil]

Finnius

 

The locust camp, shortly after Harpy's wedding,

Young male locusts were throwing themselves into the fire left and right. The young females were desperately trying to stop them, and not succeeding all that well. Every now and again, the words of the males could be heard over the crackling fire.

 

"I'll always love you Harpy, even though I'm not worthy," before an insect threw himself to the flames.

 

"Forever for you, my queen, my Goddess," just as the poor fool incinerated.

 

"See you in hell, Finnius," as the fire licks up his exoskeleton.

 

The wedding suite, about that moment,

 

A three inch woman chases a nearly- five-foot-soaked-in-champagne-and- scotch-hung-over-blue-wolf-mage-who-also- happens-to-be-her-captive-husband around a chartreuse, heart-shaped bed. She wields a knife in one hand, and a cookbook in the other.

 

"Stay still and take it like a man, Mr. O'Harpy!"

 

Finnius dodges around the full-length mirror at the edge of the bed.

 

"Errr... darling? Don't take this the wrong way, but I think we should see other people

[Peredhil]

Scarlett O'Harpy

 

Scarlett peeps with rage, and hurls the knife at her husband with the fury only scorned women can muster -- according to the corpus of popular aphorisms. It plunges into the back of Finnius's left knee, where it engages, quivers and HURTS goddammit!

Limping around the bed, slowed immeasurably by the darting pain, Finnius cries out: "You'll never take me aliiiiive!", before stumbling gracelessly over, face forward.

 

Triumphant, gleeful, and oh-so-swift to capitalise, Harpy is on him in an instant. She struts up and down his back, modelling her trousseau to herself in the mirror, and pocking her husband's back with tiny heel marks.

 

Below her, Finnius groans.

 

"See other people, should we?" repeats Harpy with menace. "Not until death us do part", she adds with a cackle. Scarlett extracts grandma's best silverware, measures the quality, then begins to carve.

 

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

Scarlett O'Harpy

 

The two phases of fire are craving and satiety

[Peredhil]

Tzimfemme and Rydia

 

Second floor: Rydia-the-Birdman swings the Killer Carp Tie one time too many. This clone dodges and the Carp instead THWACKs into a support pillar. The pillar creaks fatally and a crack gapes open as the pillar folds in two. Rydia topples backwards as shock waves rock the second floor and rip open a goodly section of the hall. She and the clones rain down into the first floor and beyond. . .

Third floor: Just as Scarlett finishes basting Finnius with hair remover to remove the last bits of the Canid costume, the wall shatters and Minta-Nim flies in. “Wheeee! I got it! I got it!” she cries out happily, clutching a new cloth Nim doll and promenading around the room with it. She is not at all watching where she's stepping, nor does she mind the smoke now pouring through the hole in the wall. . .

 

In the super-secret subbasement of the Hall: “What’s going on?” wonders lumpenGrinchetariat as the ceiling begins to flake and splinter. . .

 

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

Tzimfemme (the naked); "No one ever asks 'Why?' until it's far too late"

 

Rydia adorned with pearls; Owner of the Anti-Spam Carp

 

Minta Rose, sunshine and moonlight; Calculus for the Masses!, Server Guilded

 

Proprietress of Happy Hentai Wholesale, Angels of Apocalypse, Ager Guilded

 

Constant Reader and Moderator, General Assembly and Ager Guilded

[Peredhil]

Wyvern

 

In a lost corner of the abandonned gambling casino, Wyvern nervously paces in circles, thinking of what he can possibly do to get the party back into order. This masquerade birthday had turned into a regular disastor... the 'surprise sprinklers' had gone off, the mountain of presents had been stolen, and the birthday girl herself had disappeared to the third floor plastic jungle over 30 minutes ago... For a moment, Wyvern visualizes an ill-fated Cerulean roasting on a locust barbeque with natives dancing all around her. He shudders and brushes the horrible thought to the side... but the worried expression on his face brought by the imagined fate remains.

"Cerulean... Where are you?!" mutters Wyvern miserably to himself. He then takes an enormous swig from his Decanter. "Things really couldn't get any worse, could they..."

 

As if these words had caused a bad omen, Buba rushes into the room and exclaims "Boss! There more trouble on dance floor!"

 

"What NOW?!" Wyvern cries. He races to the dance floor and then stops short when he reaches the entrance. His mouth drops open and he gazes on the scene in horror. Surely, this couldn't be happening...?

 

But it was...

 

Throughout the dance floor area, Mishas were raining down from the skies where the second floor platform had used to be. "Dear lord..." Wyvern whispers to himself absent mindedly "Mishas rain from the skies.... could this be the final armageddon...?"

 

Wyvern rushes to the center of the dance floor, carefully avoiding the rain of Mishas on his way. He takes the microphone he had used earlier on, clears his throat, and calls out "EVERYBODY STAY CALM! Evacuate the dance floor in an orderly fashion!". Unfortunatly, due to the screams of Archmages and the annoying questionings of the Mishas, nobody overhears him.

 

Wyvern is about to make the announcement again when he notices that an enormous broken second floor support pillar is falling staight at him! He just manages to evade the pillar, gasping in relief... but does not notice that the all-powerfull anti-spam carp is also headed straight for his nogin. The carp strikes Wyverns head with a deafening force... probably even more powerfull then that of the pillar. Wyvern wobbles for a moment before collapsing into unconsciousness...

 

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

Wyvern

...almost a dragon.

 

Proud Owner of the Decanter of Endless Booze.

 

Saint of Terra; Patron of Parties.

 

Diplomat and representitive of Succubi or Bust (S.o.B )-BG

The Pen isn't Mightier then the Sword... but is certainly easier to carry...

Unofficial member of the Mr. Bunny fan club.

"GIVE ME A CARROT GODDAMMIT!" -Mr. Bunny

[Peredhil]

Finnius

 

For a three-inch tall woman, Harpy had quite a grip. She was managing to both hold Finnius down, as well as carve tiny slices of meat off of his back. Luckily, she was as small as she was. Otherwise, the blue mage would be completely gone by now.

"Ummm.... OOWW! Hone-ouch... I think that-YeOu... we should talk this out. YEEAA!"

 

Harpy, astride her husband/dinner's vertebrae, hefts the carving knife and giggles. "What's to talk about? You obviously don't love me."

 

"What makes you say that... errm... dear?"

 

"Well, for one thing, you keep hesitating when calling me pet-names."

 

"Oh. Well, it's only because I want to best express my undieing affection for you. I couldn't possibly use inferior words to describe you... oh... light of my... life."

 

"You're such a bad liar. It's kind of cute, in a way. Interesting that you should use the word undieing." The tiny cannibal trenches her knife into a shoulder.

 

"Aaaghk... Maybe... I could prove it.... Yaargh!... with a haiku?"

 

Without stopping, Harpy answers. "Go ahead, whatever. And stop bleeding on my apron!"

 

"Beloved Scarlett, (Oooww...)

Glass reflecting in silence, (Yeep!)

What life best calls 'Light.' (Graaagh!)"

 

"Just wonerful. Not really wonderful, but almost. Maybe with a little more practice."

[Peredhil]

Scarlett O'Harpy

 

Clearly Finnius had taste, Scarlett reflected, as she clamped her jaws around another forkful. But as husbands went, this one had nearly gone, and besides, she was sorely missing Rapture.

She dug her knife into the wannabe-wolf's side, muttering to herself as she scored out a further portion...

 

"This little Harpy went to market...

This little Harpy stayed at home JAB.

This little Harpy ate husbands CARVE

And this little..."

 

Scarlett stopped her chant abruptly to pluck a stray hair from her mouth. She chewed on sliced Finnius meditatively and watched yet another red hair fall to the floor before her. She traced its path as it curled softly atop the increasing pile of hair which was rapidly accumulating.

 

She swallowed her current morsel and raked a hand through her lustrous copper locks.

 

Harpy's fingers stiffened. The tresses parted company with their root follicles. Her scalp prickled and then felt unnacountably cooler.

 

What had she used on Finnius to rid him of his pesky faux-fur coating? What had she therefore digested alongside half a flank of spouse?

 

Harpy gulped, blanched, and looked in the mirror.

 

They stared at each other, she and her reflection. They were both three inches tall. They were both wearing an expression of abject mortification. Moreover, they were both completely, unalterably and undeniably BALD!.

 

Scarlett's screams could've woken the dead. Not only woken them, but got them out of bed, showered and exiting the graveyard in time to beat the traffic.

 

She flew out of the hotel suite skittering wildly in random directions with horrified panic. Her hair! Her beautiful, beautiful hair!

 

She could visualise Headlines already in the Terra Press... the gloating mockery, the finger-pointing, the cruel laughter. As if this wasn't enough, Wyvern had a professional photographer employed to capture everything for posterity. Scarlett had to think of something, and think fast.

 

What she needed was a convincing hairpiece, some form of wig to don before anybody noticed her condition. Now where could she get ahold of something like that? And quickly? Scarlett darted forwards keeping to the shadows, shoulders bent and apron rucked over her head.

 

Her mouth twitched as she caught sight of a figure flitting uncomfortably in the gloom.

 

"Oh Zoolio!", she twittered innocently from ankle height, "How absolutely lovely to see you!" She stepped out suddenly from the shadows and Zool caught his first glimpse of her manic expression, unorthodox headwear, and long, sharp teeth.

 

Zool narrowed his eyes and wielded a contraction.

 

The rubber chicken squawked out of habit.

 

Matt the toupee clung on for dear life.

 

Little Red Apron Hood pounced...

 

 

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

Scarlett O'Harpy

 

The two phases of fire are craving and satiety

[Peredhil]

Wyvern

 

Two floors below Harpy's escapades, the main dance-floor of the Conservatory has gone silent.

The outraged cries of frenzied Archmages, the incessant ramblings of countless Mishas, the buzzing of locusts... had all stopped. A number of worried Archmages circle the seemingly lifeless body of Wyvern. The anti-spam carp flops on the ground near his severly injured head.

 

Slowly, the overgrown lizard opens his eyes...

 

Tzimfemme mutters "He's awake..." and several of the surrounding Archmages (and Mishas) gather around to view Wyverns current state.

 

"Hey Wyv... You alright?"

 

"You took quite a hit back there..."

 

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

 

"Somebody get him some ice for his head..."

 

The comments of the various mages echo through Wyverns mind. The lizard slowly raises back on his feet. He wobbles once and tries to take a step forward but trips. Fortunatly he is caught by two other Archmages before hitting the ground.

 

"Geeze, would you look at the guy... what a mess..."

 

"Where's that ice?!"

 

"Take it easy Wyv..."

 

The words of the many mages continously echo in Wyverns mind. Then, something seems to click inside his brain. Wyvern suddenly brushes the two mages holding him to the side and stands up very straight, opening his eyes. A scowl makes it's way across his face, and several Archmages back away in fear. He then roars

 

"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS???!!!"

 

Many of the Archmages surrounding stutter. Then one manages "W-w-w-what?"

 

"THIS!!!" Wyvern points to the rubble on the dance floor, the two male dancers on the podium, the swimming pool of booze, and finaly the enormous hole in the ceiling.

 

"I-it's your party Wyvern... Hey, don't worry, it's all in good fun..." the mage laughs nervously.

 

"PARTY??!! FUN??!!!!!" Wyvern roars "WHO HATH EVER HEARD OF ANYTHING SO PREPOSTOROUS??!!!"

 

The mage stutters "B-but it was your idea... and it was in honor of..."

 

"SILENCE INFIDEL!!!" with that, what might have once been Wyvern fires an enormous bolt of blue energy out of his wrist. The stuttering Archmage, paralyzed with fear, is reduced to cinders.

 

"I AM FELLOROS THE DARK ONE, REINCARNATED INTO THIS PITIFULL REPTILIAN SHELL, COURTESY OF THAT... FISH." Wyvern/Felloros points to the anti-spam carp on the ground. "NOW... TAKE ME TO YOUR LEADER!"

 

"Leader...?" questions one of the Archmages.

 

"YOU KNOW WELL OF WHO I SPEAK, SLAVE." growls the dark one "WHERE IS NANOTOKONNEN?! I SHALL HAVE MY REVENGE!!!"

 

 

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

Wyvern

...almost a dragon.

 

Proud Owner of the Decanter of Endless Booze.

 

Saint of Terra; Patron of Parties.

 

Diplomat and representitive of Succubi or Bust (S.o.B )-BG

The Pen isn't Mightier then the Sword... but is certainly easier to carry...

Unofficial member of the Mr. Bunny fan club.

"GIVE ME A CARROT GODDAMMIT!" -Mr. Bunny

[Peredhil]

Finnius

 

Praise be to Zool, thinks the not-quite-fearless blue mage, as he hastily bandages the wounds his three-inch-tall wife had given him. Harpy, still wrapped up with the red mage, apparently didn't notice Finnius' hasty retreat. Then again, appearances can be decieving...

As the now-naked-and-marinated mage opens a window and begins to climb out, Harpy deftly tosses a fork over her shoulder, pinning her hapless husband's hand to the window-sill. (Why there is a window in the interior of the third floor, by the way, is beyond me.)

 

The bruised-and-battered (In more ways than one!) blue mage winces in pain as he pulls the pint-sized utensil from his palm. It is at this point that the subtle, but effective, poison, with which the fork had been laced, takes effect. The poor blue-skinned man swoons and falls over, right on top of an unlit barbecue grill.

[Peredhil]

Scarlett O'Harpy

 

Harpy is watching Zool's antics with unconcealed malevolence. First he looked furious, next startled, then saddened as he now gazed levelly at the pint sized woman who was evidently as un-hirsute as a coot, and seething with it.

 

As she leapt towards him, Zool took a neat step to the side which left Scarlett crashing onto the floor. (Not a damaging fall, granted, given her current proportions, but as severe a crack to her dignity as any you could think of.) She regarded the mage who had bested her as she lay sprawling on the ground.

 

"You've changed!", she spat. "You'd never have done that before. What's going on Zoolio?"

 

Zool appeared rather less well defined than she had remembered. His outline seemed to shimmer and dip. But she continued her barrage of abuse undaunted. "I mean, for heaven's sake, this is a thread, right? You're supposed to tie it into a knot or unravel it somehow. You can't just stand there as if you're not a true part of the action any longer. I mean the readers gotta believe in ya goddammit!"

 

When he didn't reply she sat up slowly. The timbre of her voice altered as she spoke in softer tones. "Come on Zooly, you know how it has to be. You're the cosmic clown, the Shakespearean fool who offers the pearl of wisdom at the end of Act V. I'm the baddie with the heart of gold, set up for falls and comedic interest. You think I like tokenistic irony?"

 

Zool jumps back stunned at the visitation of vocabulary. "We don't control it! We're caricatures. You can't simply opt out now." Scarlett snaps her mouth abruptly shut as realisation dawns with the bitter twist of a hemlock Margarita.

 

"Oh! You're being written out! That's it, isn't it? Your human wants to move on?" Harpy looks horrified. But gee that's awful, is there anything I can do?"

 

Zool shakes his head. "It's not so bad. I get to do new things now, change, I'm not stuck in this one role forever more. You should try it sometime..."

 

Scarlett considered. But what else could she be? She was how she was as a foil to Cerulean. She couldn't develop. Cast as the shrew to be tamed by Rapture, it was work, it was fun, it was... predictable.

 

Zool smiled at Harpy, his annoyance gone. "You'll see. One day, you'll understand." He pushed his luck slightly as he completed this statement with an enigmatic smile which didn't wholly come off. His jaw set in a rictus of amusement, and his form appeared in Harpy's eyes to dissipate still further.

 

She saw a mage with a sense of otherness about him, as though he were both here and present in a different world. Something was tugging at him, and she knew she had little time to lose.

 

"So. You givin' me the wig, or aincha?"

 

Zool shook his head. His eyes were distant mirrors through which Scarlett saw reflected another room, another time. In the second room a second Zool was placing items into a trunk. She watched as he described the action unknowingly to her. Her eyes widened as she finally recognized the change he'd undergone. Zool looked happy, peaceful.

 

"Into the trunk went a black leather suit, trimmed in red. Into the trunk went a pair of shoes with the heel under the toes for backtracking, and the world's smallest axe for splitting hairs. Into the trunk went a pair of fake plastic glasses with a fake plastic nose and fake bushy eyebrows attached. Into the trunk went a black cape with the words "Assassin Magi" lettered on the back, and into the trunk went an odd toupee, it's jet black pompadour sweeping straight up nearly three feet - it was laid gently on its side. Lastly, a yellow rubber chicken was ceremoniously folded by the white gloves and laid on the articles in the trunk.

 

With a slow squeaking and a narrowing of the field of light from the trunk, it gently closed, the gloves barely slipping into the barest crack of an opening before all vanished into empty space at the final click of the latch."

 

Scarlett stood up silently as the figure of Zool faded away from the Masquerade. His voice carried still to her ears, and his smile disappeared last, like the Cheshire Cat's.

 

"To all my friends and all my enemies; Thank you, and farewell."

 

Scarlett was quite impressed, despite herself. "How'd you do that Zooly?"

 

It was magic.

 

*********************

 

The air around her wavered, swirled and was still. From nowhere, tiny pieces of paper fluttered onto the floor. She stooped and collected a handful of confetti.

 

It was all that remained of the contraction she had signed.

 

Harpy sighed a deep sigh and rubbed her temples thoughtfully. Her face displayed an atypical expression, as though she was weighing up a difficult set of choices. As though she was actually thinking.

 

The barest movement behind her brought her crashing back to reality. Scarlett's ears radared and she listened carefully to Finnius's creeping footfalls as he enacted his daring escape-bid.

 

With a determined toss of her scalp, Harpy throws all previous thoughts to one side, and locks them away in her own mental trunk. Maybe one day she'll follow the path of her friend, but not just yet. She's having too much FUN!

 

Scarlett fishes in the pocket of her apron and pulls out a box of cooking matches. With the dexterity of a card sharp, she extracts a match, scratches a nail over the phosporus tip, strikes a light and watches the tiny fire drip down the stick.

 

Cupping her fingers around the dancing flame, she walks steadily over to the barbecue, gnashing her teeth as she goes.

 

Her mind is not on food, however. She is carefully selecting an outfit from her collection. Something dark, tailored, severe even. Her eyes glint with amusement. Widow's weeds will become her.

 

 

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

Scarlett O'Harpy

 

The two phases of fire are craving and satiety

[Peredhil]

Wyvern

 

OOC: I'm sorry... I just can't leave this party in such a chaotic state.

IC: Felloros the Dark One/Wyvern/Brute makes his way through the crowds of terrified Archmages. He steps over the shadow of the mage he had just utterly eradicated... he had left it in memory of the pathetic slave. Grimacing maliciously, the dark one turns to a door labled "Main Stairway". Pointing a hand glowing with energy at the door, he calls out:

 

NANOTOKNONNEN! SHOW YOURSELF COWARD! YOUR MINIONS ARE USELESS AGAINST ME!

 

With that, the surrounding Archmages scream as Felleros fires a beam of blue energy that shatters the stairway door into pieces. He begins heading towards the stairway when he passes over something that catches his eye. A trap door located at the far end of the dance floor.

 

I SHALL HAVE MY REVENGE!

 

Felleros raises his hands in the air and the trap door explodes off it's hinges. He stares into it's depths, and finds not Nanotoknonnen, but rather Lumpenproletariat disguised as the Grinch, gloating over Cerulean's presents.

 

Looking up and seeing Wyverns angry visage staring down at him, Lumpy quickly stands and nervously stutters:

 

"W-wait Wyvern... Uhhh... I can explain..."

 

The creature that was once Wyvern raises it's hand and Lumpy goes flying out of the basement region of the Conservatory.

 

MY NAME IS NOT WYVERN! IT IS FELLEROS THE DARK ONE. BOW BEFORE ME, SLAVE.

 

"Wait! Don't hurt him!" cries an Archmage from the audience. The Archmage then looks into the basement where Lumpen was hiding and see's the unmistakeable stack of Cerulean's pressies. Turning to the Wyvern-thing, the mage mutters "On the other hand, do what you want with him..."

 

Felleros growls and tosses Lumpen across the room. Fortunatly, the Lumpster has the good fortune of landing in a punch bowl that breaks his fall. A pink squirrel squeaks a greeting to him...

 

Felleros heads off in a rage towards the broken stair way doors. He passes a Nether mage and grabs the mages cape, wrapping it around his back and making him look very sinister. The mage doesn't dare try to stop him. Felleros roars:

 

ENOUGH OF THESE GAMES, NANOTOKNONNEN! SHOW YOURSELF! WE HAVE BEEN DESTINED TO DUEL!

 

With that, the Dark One heads up the stairs leading to the third floor plastic jungle... towards the unfortunate likes of Finnius and Scarlett O' Harpy...

 

 

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

Wyvern

...almost a dragon.

 

Proud Owner of the Decanter of Endless Booze.

Saint of Terra; Patron of Parties.

 

Diplomat and representitive of Succubi or Bust (S.o.B )-BG

The Pen is Mightier then the Sword-BH Elder of Initiates

It's also easier to carry...

Unofficial member of the Mr. Bunny fan club.

"GIVE ME A CARROT GODDAMMIT!" -Mr. Bunny