Fiction GAME OF SCALES (Part 2)

[spawning of Bob]

The story so far.





Chapter number... Ermagherd , ther Wern werth Derk Erlves

The Black Ark had finished disgorging its contents – a gleaming host of cruel Dark Elves. Their leader paused to adjust the tall black helm that was his motif. He came from the frozen north where he had stood resolute against the gales of change that were sweeping the world. His true name was lost to history, but those who risked whispering about him knew him as the Bringer of Night.

At his side stood one who was possibly even more legendary than himself. She was a sorceress of great power, and although she walked the ways of the world far less often than he, it could be argued that her powers drew her an even greater notoriety.

Mrs Nightbringer raised a slender arm and gestured with a cruelly barbed wooden spoon. “A winged rider approaches. Will you not have the crossbows bring him down?”

The Bringer of Night scoffed. “A single terradon is no threat to this armed and fully operational battle line. It will drop its rock and then, I assure you, we are quite safe from at and its friends here.”

The rider swooped low and released a glyph etched boulder. The projectile tumbled as it fell, and the afternoon sunlight glinted off thousands of facets. In the crush of elves there was no room to manouevre, and one of them saw his death etched in the sparking glyphs. He raised his shield to ward himself but the boulder could not be halted. It smashed his arm and pressed the polished metal of the shield down against his head and upper body. He had no time to shriek, nor a mouth to shriek with as he was crushed into a bloody pancake beneath his own protection.

The elves around him did not celebrate their companion’s misfortune, because the boulder shattered into myriad obsidian shards which scythed outwards from the point of impact. Those who were not instantly killed had little time to thank their gods as they bled out from a thousand punctures and gashes.

Mrs Nightbringer shrugged and returned to mixing some arcane mixture in her cauldron. “The flyer is coming back around, dear.”

“Pah. It only has one rock”

The terradon stalled in the air over the Druchii force, emitted a feeble croak and dropped another payload, a sticky white and brown mess. The dropping broke apart in the air and fell like a stinking rain on another cohort of elves. Shields were no protection, and neither was armour. The white fluid sizzled through steel leather and flesh alike and soon enough the victims were twitching, melted blobs on the sand.

“That wasn’t a rock, dear. And here it comes again.”

The Bringer of Night’s visage darkened. “I do not like this phantom menace.”

-----

Slann Lord Bow’xa shielded his eyes with a flabby hand. “I understand why Chief Cro’sfoot eats prunes, but I never knew why he fed them to poor Old-Yella until now.”

Qupakoco wearily shook his nightcapped head. “I think that it is more to do with Old-Yella scarfing down all of the leftover Nurgle Bhaji before we left.” The Old Blood rubbed his pink cheek and whispered, “now, to find our puppy, that we may kick it.”

“I heard that!” Aletea was not quite far enough away.

“I still want-want to kick a real puppy when we get back. There is an elf-thing with a big hat over there. Beside the delicious smelling cauldron-thing.”

“He will be hard to get to out in the open. Y’ttar, be a good fellow and create a diversion.”

“What-what? If I do that, who will guard the orb-stone and defend the portal-tunnel. If it closes, you will all be trapped far from your nest.”

“Wait, the elf lines are breaking up. They are chasing Cro’sfoot around in circles. Come on, Lord Bow’xa, my bunny slippers are itching for a kicking.”

-----

The baffled dark elves replied to the terradon’s poojectiles with streams of invective and showers of repeater crossbow bolts, but the half mad and fully incontinent reptile jinked with such erratic wingbeats that none of the bolts found their mark. Cro’sfoot was in no real danger until a five black pegasi beat their way into the sky on wings of jet.

The ancient chief banked hard to avoid the quintet’s first charge, but they adjusted their trajectory and rapidly bore down on him. The terradon furled its wings and tumbled most of the way down to the rocky shore before levelling out barely a spear’s length above the druichii army. As it did so, it expelled the last of its breakfast, some of which splashed onto the Bringer of Night’s black hat.

“It’s a crap!” shouted a conveniently placed dark elf admiral, and there was a sudden rush for the cover of the trees.

-----

The five pegasi formed a chevron behind the terradon rider with their leader, a vile and treacherous villain named Nerx-S-Wern. The winged horses were a little faster than the reptile, but the lighter flyer was able to loop and turn and stay out of effective range of the dark elf crossbows.

“I don’t much like this game. But I hate that guy,” he declared. “Hydra Formation!”

The other riders responded by peeling off up, down and to the sides. The terradon would have no direction to turn which would not lead it towards the spitting crossbows of the druchii.

-----

Far below, Lord Bowxa urged his bastiladon into motion. “Qupakoco, I leave the puppy to you. I have developed a sudden interest in that elf princess and her floating castle.”

The Oldblood Qupakoco took a long draught from his steaming potion mug and trotted towards the disordered elf lines as they entered the forest.

“Are you going to join the battle too, Bralterakus?” asked Emily.

“What? There’s no profit in it for me. I’ll watch from here.”

After a minute Emma asked, “How is that one with the big turtle even going to fight the castle thing, Zlaqua?”

“That’s a bastiladon, Emma. See on it’s back is a thing called an “Ark of Sotek”. From there will come an infinite number of deadly snakes. Usually.”

-----

Lord Bow’xa’s approach could not be kept secret for long. The Druchii rearguard composed themselves and formed a wall of halberds and shields to keep his bastiladon away from their means of retreat.

Flaart, the Bastiladon hissed and snapped. His thundering footfalls shook the ground as he charged with all of his turtle like glory. Several minutes later one of the elves peeked over his shield to see if he had got lost. Big mistake. Flaart’s blade edged beak snapped shut and neatly decapitated the elf a minute before his mighty shoulders collided with the shield wall and flung it into disarray. Flaart’s heavy tail lashed from side to side, his tree stump like feet ground elves into paste and his beak sheared through armour and limbs like they were made of damp lettuce. All the while, Lord Bow’xa sat serenely on his back.

Even the bastiladons formidable weapons could not hold back an entire horde. Here and there, druchii began to clamber up Flaart’s fortress like sides with frog-murdering intent. Finally, Bow’xa stirred. He made a gesture and an incantation and the stone ark on Flaart’s back pulsed with eldritch power. Portals open, and from them issued a savage stream off spiky, sharp beaked, irate but somehow cute turtles. The elves fell away and were trampled under the flippers of vengeance.

-----

“Well it is usually snakes,” said Zlaqua.

“Everytime I see one of those turtles, a little piece of my heart melts. Erm, I mean, Must. Uphold. Masculine. Social. Construct.” Bralterakus chugged a keg.

-----

In the meantime, Chief Cro’sfoot’s and Old-Yella had been boxed in by the pegasi. At every turn, death loomed closer. For the ancient rider, for whom waking each day with a pulse was a pleasant surprise, this was not a great concern. But his terradon mount had a wife and kids to live for. And it was also its last day before retirement. He performed a particularly tight stall turn which took him over Nerx-S-Wern’s head and belted for the cover of the trees.

The deep Lustrian jungle is like no other place. The trunks of trees rise like vast columns, and their mighty arms twine to form vast vaults through which only the dimmest green glow of sunlight penetrates. The jungle floor is the dominion of the great reptiles, both predator and prey. The canopy high above contains the squabbling societies of the birds and the apes. The dim tangle of boles and boughs and heavy air which lies between has but one master. The terradon.

-----

A dark elf commander approached the Bringer of Night and snapped off a quick salute. “We've analyzed their attack, sir, and there is a danger. Should I have your ship standing by?”

“Evacuate? In our moment of triumph? I think you overestimate their chances. We will crush the Rebellion with one swift stroke.”

Mrs Nightringer sighed. “Yes, dear. Why don’t you start by crushing the sleepy looking one, and I will deal with the turtle one.” With a gesture of her wooden spoon, Mrs Nightbringer’s witchy-poo cauldron thingy began to glide back towards the floating castle and the hard shelled terror that threatened it.

-----

“Why are we here?” Emily’s usually attractive forehead was wrinkled.

“Don’t you remember? I was being telepathically manipulated by Lord Kroak and we were coming to Lustria to advance the plot of Origins," replied Zlaqua.

“Is it working?” asked Emma.

Zlaqua’s brow crinkled, too. “Not really. I think you are meant to be dead. Or at least I’m pretty sure. It got a bit confusing there.”

Emily’s forehead creased further. “There must be another reason for us being here. It’s like there is some kind of hidden plot going on.”

“Lies! Lies!” The hooded skink who had remained behind to guard the orb looked like he was ready to bolt into the glowy portal

“Be quiet all of you,” grunted Bralterakus. “Our purpose is to watch the battle to provide a distant third person overview so that individual events fit into a broader spatial and temporal context.”

“Perhaps that’s it,” Emily sighed, but her forehead remained furrowed.

“The turtle dude has almost broken through to the castle thing, but the witchy lady has nearly caught up to him.” Aletea reported. The dark one with the hat is about to meet the sleepy saurus, and the flying one can’t get to the trees because it is being blocked by the winged horses. How am I doing?”

“Perfect,” a ghostly voice purred. “Just perfect.” An ethereal typewriter slowly clicked.

-----

Cro’sfoot made every effort to fly into the cover of the trees, but there were always at least two of Nerx-S-Wern’s black riders covering that flank. Another of them latched onto Cro’sfoot’s tail and could not be shaken off, and each bolt of his repeating crossbow came closer to the mark as he slowly found the terradon’s measure.

In a measure consistent with a suicide wish, Cro’sfoot banked towards the setting sun and the two pegasi who blocked his way to the trees and levelled his flight. There was barely any room for manoeuvre left, when the terradon tightly looped up towards the sun, turned upside down for an instant and then dropped back to its level course. The pointless manoeuvre cost time and distance, and the elf laughed. He was close enough that his next bolt would, without doubt, unseat the lizardman rider.

Except the rider was gone

-----

“Oops. He’s fallen off,” said Aleta, far below.

“Ha ha. Look how his arms and legs flail,” Bralterakus added cheerfully. “If he’s not careful he will hit the-”

“Shhh! Can any of you hear an incredibly slow clicking sound?”

-----

The elf had no time to wonder where the missing rider was before he felt a sudden jolt and discovered he was no longer alone on his mount. As he bent and twisted left to bring his bow around to aim at the unwelcome passenger, the passenger bent and twisted right and cut the saddle girth with an obsidian blade. The saddle slid off and carried the elf, stirrups and all, to his death on the rocks beneath. A bit like that scene from Dr Strangelove, but with pointy ears and no hat.

Burdened only with a decrepit, hearing impaired and incontinent skink, the Pegasus accelerated and drew past the terradon, allowing the aforementioned decrepit, hearing impaired and incontinent skink to step back onto his original mount. The unhelmed Pegasus continued on and intersected with the aghast elf riders who were blocking the path to the trees. The wayward warhorse shattered one wing each of the others, and the three tangled together and spiralled down to the ground. Where they exploded in a massive fireball.

-----

Old Blood Qupakoco shielded himself from a sudden shower of warm horse parts, but it was a pointless gesture. He was already covered in the viscera and blood that had fountained from each of the puny dark elves that had attempted to bar his way to the puppy.

Below him, in a little hollow was The Bringer of Night, whose smart black hat was also spattered with gore. He straightened his bow tie and drew a humming, glowing red blade.

“It's over, Elf. I have the high ground,” called the saurian.

“You underestimate my power!”

“I will do what I must.”

“You will try.”

The heroes clashed with a shower of sparks and then drew apart again. A smoking teddy bear arm lay on the ground between them.

Qupakoco looked at his dismembered companion. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” he said.

-----

“Starwars quotes? How did this happen? We are more original than this,” protested Aleta.

“Apparently not,” murmured Emma. “And now I can hear some kind of cutting, pasting sound.”

 

[Bowser]

the three tangled together and spiralled down to the ground. Where they exploded in a massive fireball.

I do love a good action scene.

“Starwars quotes? How did this happen? We are more original than this,” protested Aleta.

“Apparently not,” murmured Emma. “And now I can hear some kind of cutting, pasting sound.”

Ah you beat me to the punchline! Well it seems to work for most shows, so you are at least at a Television standard of writing. What's that german word that means both pride and shame?

All kidding aside this was pretty epic! I enjoyed this a lot!

 

[spawning of Bob]

I'm sure I would be stolz, but I can hardly take credit. The Ghost Writer must have hacked my account. I should change my password from password.

 

[spawning of Bob]

I've just noticed that this lame parody, which has nothing to do with me at all, might be offensive to @NexS1 , @Qupakoco , @NIGHTBRINGER , @Mrs. NIGHTBRINGER ,@Otzi'mandias, @Crowsfoot and @Y'ttar Scaletail. Or at least I hope so.

 

[Warden]

ALL HAIL THE BRINGER OF NIGHT!

And his wife.

Really enjoyed that story. So many puns and quotes and jokes. Also enjoyed the poke at the Origins story!

 

[spawning of Bob]

Hmm. You're already dead.

 

[Warden]

I prefer to think of myself as only mostly dead

 

[NIGHTBRINGER]

@spawning of Bob
The incompetence of the Bringer of Night can be forgiven... but the desecration of his beloved hat is a terminal sin without hope of redemption. We do graciously accept your offering of Star Wars quotes though .

 

[spawning of Bob]

This is a conundrum.

@spawning of Bobbut the desecration of his beloved hat is a terminal sin without hope of redemption.

It's either written as intended (his beloved hat) to which I say poo to you with trogs on OR it is a mispell and should read

@spawning of Bobbut the desecration of his beloved. That is a terminal sin without hope of redemption.

I would never desecrate the glorious Mrs Nightbringer. The Ghost-Writer, though. He has no respect for anybody.

 

[Xholankha the lost one]

Good job bob

 

[Xholankha the lost one]

All credit tot you for this scene though bob, I had nothing to do with it.

 

[spawning of Bob]

You inspired me the ghost writer

 

[Xholankha the lost one]

Well I'm free for 3 weeks so I am fully capable to edit if u post on the secret chat

 

[spawning of Bob]

Shhh. It's secret.

 

[spawning of Bob]

Nurxti Churpter.

“What are you doing?” Lord Bow’xa craned forward to look over the bulk of the Ark of Turtek.

Mrs Nightbringer scraped the last of her magical mixture into a metal pan, slid it onto the middle shelf of her sacrificial furnace and set the temperature to 180 degrees. “A little bit of magic.”

“I think we are meant to be battling, or at the least I should be kidnapping you. That sure does smell delicious.”

“It should smell delicious, that is part of the magic.” A liturgical bell rang, and the Elf Sorceress put on a pair of cruel gauntletts which had a floral motif. She reached inside the furnace and pulled out the hot pan. The batter had risen into a strangely familiar form.

“What kind of magic?” Lord Bow’xa began to drool.

“Voodue.”

“Like “Voodoo”, where you make a likeness of your enemy and stab it with pins? Or like “fondue” where you stab your enemy with a long fork and dip them in melted cheese?”

“A bit of both.” Mrs Nightbringer shook off the gauntlets and started spreading a coloured paste onto the cake armature using a long flat blade.

“That won’t work on me. Why won’t my arms move?”

“Finished.” @Mrs. NIGHTBRINGER revealed a perfectly formed marzipan slann mage priest. “do you like it?”

“I feel like if I say, “no,” I will cause some kind of universe ending paradox. What happens now? Do you stick pins in me? Forks?”

The elf laughed with a sound like the tinkle of a silver shower of raindrops of nitric acid. “No silly. I’m going to cut you into 1000 pieces and feed you to my husband.” She slowly drew out a gilt cake server which was engraved with a delicate tracery of elven words of malice and violence.

-----

Cro’sfoot and his terradon had a clear path to the safety of the deep jungle. But rather than flee, he wove in and out of the edge of the giant cloister of trees. One of the pegasus riders was on his tail again, neither gaining nor losing ground. Above them both hovered the riders’ leader, the vile Nerx-S-Wern waiting for his moment to end the game, which as has already been mentioned, he didn’t much like.

It seemed that terradon was tiring and its flight was becoming imprecise. As it jinked through some loops of vine it struck some kind of hanging fruit, as big as a barrel, with a jolt that almost dislodged the rider. Then the fruit began to hum loudly and yellow and black shapes poured from its base just as the black Pegasus drew level.

-----

“Ooh. Piranha wasp nest.” Zlaqua cringed. “And now they are all stirred up and angry. They can skeletonise a cow in three minutes, you know.”

“How long to skeletonise a horse?” asked Bralterakus.

“That depends on how fast it can fly.”

“Hey look, three other people are coming out of the floating castle thing.” Aletea was just brilliant at stating out loud what everyone else present could plainly see. As the trio moved closer she continued to serve in this way. I have no idea why any author would ever want to kill her off. “It is a skinny druichii youth, a pale young lady of the Empire and a big savage looking brute, probably Norscan. My guess is that he is a fugitive from Dark Elf “justice” and the others are escaped slaves.”

“Slow down, slow down,” a mysterious voice complained, “I can’t type so fast.”

Bralterakus half drew his sword and blocked the threesome’s path. “Who are you are? Do you provide some timely thematic link to ‘Freedom and Slavery’? And what are you doing here in Lustria?”

The young lady showed her empty hands. “I am Alice, this is Iyskyth (EE-SK-ITH) and Hjeki. How can you have a theme of ‘Freedom AND Slavery’? Surely it should be ‘Freedom OR Slavery’. And in answer to your last question, we snuck aboard the Arky-McArkface back in Naggoroth so we could get to Lustria to advance the plot of Adventure Begins.”

“Urnd de Furk Surcery urn de Blurd. Bork bork.” the big Norscan added.

Bralterakus wasn’t done with his interrogation quite yet. “Why can’t he talk?”

“He can talk fine, but he only talks in Mock-Norscan.”

“De Mockdy Norsky, yurs.”

“Why does Mock-Norscan sound exactly like Mock-Swedish?”

“I’m a ghost writer not a linguistics scholar. Sheesh.”

“There! Did you hear that mysterious voice?” exclaimed Emily. “Why aren’t you three surprised to hear that voice?”

“Ah, well. We have had quite lot of disembodied voice talking in our sorry tale. You get used to it,” said the Naggarothi youth. Then he paused for a moment and laughed, as if at an unheard comment. “Not without pants, no.” He giggled.

“This is all suspicious. Like there is some kind of hidden plot going on,” grumbled Emma.

“Lies! Lies! I was just...” Iyskyth (EE-SK-ITH) clapped a hand over his own mouth and looked guilty.

Y’ttar whipped a blade from his cloak and dropped into a defensive crouch. “You are very sneaky-suspicious, and I smell-know suspicious because I am... a skink-thing. Yes-yes. Just normal skink-meat. Honest.”

“Dur Skurven skinky hurs a purnt,” laughed Hjeki.

“That is so annoying. Why can’t you speak English?” growled Emily. “Wait - You will speak English!”

“Really, Emily,” said the other one, “I don’t think the Queenspeech works like that-”

“Hur hur, I kurn’t turk English because... I say! Goodness gracious, that is an improvement, eh, what?”

Zlaqua face palmed. “There is no English in this universe, how exactly-”

“It’s the Queen’s English, Old Bean. And don’t complain about the jolly old Mock-Norscan either – in an earlier draft that dratted ghost-writer had me just saying ‘Hodor’ over and over. Shouldn’t we tally-ho and keep watching the battle. We can provide a smashing distant third party perspective from over here, don’t you know?”

“Ha ha! The battle is just a diversion. The real enemy is... oops.”

Y’ttar pressed his knife against Iyskyth (EE-SK-ITH)’s throat. “You are fresh-new to the sneak-plot game aren’t you?”

Iyskyth grinned foolishly and nodded.

 

[spawning of Bob]

Snack Time


The second of Vampteddy’s furry arms fell to the humming red sword’s assault.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” said Oldblood Qupakoco.

The Bringer of Night paused in his attack. “You already said that. Star Wars would never repeat itself.”

“Like Hell it wouldn’t. How many Death Stars have there been already?”

The Bringer of Night responded with a slash that severed Qupakoco’s right hand at the wrist. The OldBlood clutched the stump and staggered back, screaming.

“You cannot defeat me, the Dark Lord crowed. “Join me, and together we can overthrow the Emperor and Rule the Galaxy.”

Qupakoco cringed back. “What? As father and son?”

“No, as Dark Elf and Lizardman.”

“Lizardman? Lizardman? I’m not a lizardman.” Qupakoco released his grip on the stump of his right arm. It began to ooze... starlight. “I’m a Seraphon.”

The Bringer of Night slumped to his knees and raised a despairing cry to the cruel gods. “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

-----

Hjeki tut-tutted. “Jolly bad luck, eh what. How is the rest of the battle going, old bean?”

“What battle?” grunted Bralterakus. “A Dark Elf invasion force is standing around with no one to fight, and three promising duels have degenerated into a bake-off, a meme war and an aerial game of cat and skaven.”

“If I said I was cheer-rooting for the skaven, would anyone find that sneak-suspicious?” Y’ttar advanced cautiously.

Zlaqua attempted to help him out. “The skaven, in this case is, metaphorically speaking, a lizardman. So it would be OK to support him.”

“Ah. And if, metaphorically squeaking, a lizardman was a cunningly disguised skaven, would he be freely accepted as overlord-slavemaster of all Lustria?”

“Possibly not.”

“Back to Plan A, then.” Y’ttar sighed. “But this battle-fight has gone on long enough.”

“Agreed. I’ll deal with this.” Emily cleared her throat. “You will end this battle.”

There was a long pause.

“Who are you talking to?” asked Zlaqua.

“Don’t you get it? There is someone here who is pulling the strings. It’s all a big plot.”

“Lies! Lies!” said Y’ttar.

“Lies! Lies!” said Iyskyth (EE-SK-ITH).

“Lies! Lies… Really? You actually think there is a plot?” said a disembodied voice.

“Yes. You, whoever you are - End this pointless battle NOW.”

Then all of the Dark Elves pooed their pants and went home.

“Now what?” asked Zlaqua.

“We should all get on with advancing the plot of whatever story we were meant to be in and never mention this day to anyone. Agreed? Agreed?”

“Hey! He stuck his fingers in his ears.” Iyskyth (EE-SK-ITH) pointed at his captor.

“No I didn’t-not! Skink-things don’t have ears!”

“Are you telling the truth?”

“Ah, pause-wait a minute… yes, I think I squeaked the truth, but I didn’t really mean it. Now I must scurry-return to the Council of Thirtee… The Council of Less every time I count with a report. And I am taking the Elf-Thing buck with me.”

The big Norscan, Hjeki, interjected. “Whatever for, old chum? Mostly he gets in the way, bleeds a lot and loses his breeches.”

Y’ttar’s reply was muffled, because he was driving his prisoner ahead of him into the pulsing portal back to Klodorex. “For question-interrogation, because he is sneak- suspicious, but mostly to advance the plot of A Game of Sca-” The portal winked closed with a loud popping sound.

Alice surveyed the remaining members of the two wayward expeditions. There were the humans - Emily and her sisters, Aleta and the other one, Bralterakus and Alice herself. And of course, there was Zlaqua. “What shall we do now to survive in this harsh and barren land?”

“I vote we eat the lizard,” suggested Aleta. “Show of hands?”

“Guys, no. Guys… Just kidding, right? Guys...”

 

[Bowser]

“I feel like if I say, “no,” I will cause some kind of universe ending paradox.

Yeah, we don't want another end times. And I really do like that cake!

 

[spawning of Bob]

You like everything.

 

[spawning of Bob]

@Otzi'mandias, I think you are safe now.

@RoseThorn , your suffering has only just begun...

 

[spawning of Bob]

Return to The City of Eternal Judgement


Xholanka held the portal open for the democratically selected puppy kicking committee’s return, and through it the council heard a voice echoing like it was coming from a long tunnel. “... for question-interrogation, because he is sneak- suspicious, but mostly to advance the plot of A Game of Sca-” A young Dark Elf stepped through the pulsing portal, propelled by Y’ttar who had one claw in a twist of the captive’s collar. In his other claw he held the Orb of Uxmac. A split second after both had passed through, the portal winked closed with a loud popping sound. “-les.”

Lord Txlanputin raised a damp eyebrow ridge. “Y’ttar, you have come back.”

Lord Da'rk-IV punched him in the shoulder. Txlanputin frowned at him. “I will continue unabated. Ahem. And you have brought the orb with you,” Da'rk-IV wound up for another punch, “which has closed the portal, leaving Lord Bow’xa and Oldblood Qupakoco trapped far to the South and unable to advance the plot. Ow. That hurt. And so did that. And so did-”

Y’ttar’s nose twitched. “What proof-evidence makes you suspect-think there is a plot?”

“Wishful thinking, I suppose. But why have you returned with that?” Txlanputin indicated Y’ttar’s captive. He was a young Druchii. It is hard to judge the age of elves, but it seemed he was no more than fifteen or sixteen winters old.

“I have grab-captured this elf-thing with his breeches down, and bought him back for torture-questioning.” reported Y’ttar.

“My breeches are never down, you filth. Except for… well they are frequently down for complicated artistic reasons, but they weren’t this time.”

Xholanka the Lost One eyed him from head to toe and then focussed on the space above his right shoulder. “What about her? Does she ever wear breeches?”

“You can see Tari?”

“Yes, I can see the demon.” said Xholanka, holding his head at an odd angle. “All of her.”

“Tari! Put some clothes on, this is a child friendly forum!”

A daemonette appeared and pouted at him. Small horns protruded from its head and it had It had a curvaceous body, wearing only a loincloth and a strip of cloth around it’s breasts. A whiplike tail ending in an arrowhead shape curled around it. It batted its golden eyes. “This tale will get more likes, if you show me as you desire me.”

“There will be no more likes,” said Scalenex. “Lord Bow’xa is trapped far from his Lustria-Online account because of Y’ttar bringing the orb back with him.”

“No more like-likes? Oh, poop-sh*t. I didn’t sniff-think that through very well, did I?”

“I can’t believe you brought a daemon-host back here, Y’ttar,” said Esurc. “I don’t like it.”

The Elf got to his feet and laughed. “And what do you like, Esurc? A vampiress with impractical armour?”

Priest Ndege interrupted. “This vampiress with the impractical armour. Is she hot?”

Esurc looked confused. “Yes, Ardaris is very hot, but that’s-”

“This Tari daemon and Ardaris... Together in a lonely tower room... Interesting...”

“I think that would be a thing best left to Bo’b's imagination and bad fanfiction.” said the elf.

“Why are you involving me in this?” asked Bo’b. “And another thing, if this isn’t bad fanfiction, I don’t know what is.”

“There is much you don’t know, Boo’b.” The young elf started to giggle maniacally.

Tari poked him. “Stop it, Iyskyth (EE-SK-ITH). You are embarrassing me.”

“Kill him, or send him back where he came from. There is a great evil in Naggaroth and we cannot risk it returning to Lustria.” Esurc’s eyes began to lose focus and the room began to swim. A moment later reality stabilised and everyone was still standing in the same positions they were a moment earlier. The only difference was the look of abject confusion on everyone else’s faces.

“What just happened?” asked Bo’b.

“Oh, sorry,” answered Esurc. “I was trying for a flashback effect so I could go back to a previous conversation where I had explained my terrible secret and the horror that surely awaits to all of you present but while I was doing the wobbly dreamy optical effect I realised that the plot would work better if this… Iyskyth (EE-SK-ITH) …? Stupid name was in the room and because he has never been in Lustria ever before and it wouldn’t make any sense at all doing this all as a big flashback. In the flashback I would have revealed how when I was spawned instead of being a blessed single spawning as was foretold from the time of the ancients there was another spawned with me who was my twin. The priests consulted the plaques and confirmed that there should have been only one and they decided without any other external evidence that I and my twin were in fact one being but split in two with one side being good and the other side evil. The priests took my twin and sent him away to Naggaroth to be raised by dark elves and to never ever ever return to Lustria lest my terrible secret be revealed. Bo’b are you about to say something about commas?”

“Actually, no,” said Bo’b, lowering his hand. “I was going to ask how the priests knew that they had banished the evil twin?”

“Uh. Fifty-fifty is kind of good odds, right?”

“I think they made the right choice, old bean” added Lord Txlanputin. “This one we’ve kept is rather epic.”

The elf, Iyskyth (EE-SK-ITH) scowled. “So He's the Chuck Norris of L-O? Where did this come from? I'm so confused...”

“And I'm also confused as to how I ended up as Chuck Norris...” said Esurc. “And where does a cowboy hat come into this?!”

“Esurc! No interrobangs in council!”

“If Esurc is Chuck Norris,” said Lord Tlac’natai slowly. “There must be an equal and opposite Chuck Norris in the Dark Elf milieu.”

Esurc visibly paled. “And you have seen this, Tlac’natai?”

“What? No. I was just making an observation. I can do that, too.”

“A preposterous notion,” said Ndege. “I’ll just google it. Oh, there actually is.”

“Well observe Naggaroth properly, demanded Esurc. Is there an overpowered, scantily-clad-magic-character-authoring copy of myself in Naggaroth?”

Tlac’natai screwed a really small monocle into his eye socket. “No.”

“Thank the gods. What are you gigging about, elf?”

“If he is not in Naggaroth, then maybe he is already in Lustria. He could be right here. Right here standing among you. Mwaha ha hahahaha!” Iyskyth (EE-SK-ITH) seemed to be amused.

“I’ll check.” Tlacnatai screwed an even smaller monocle into his eye. “No, Esurc there is no similar being to yourself in Lustria either.”

“Mwah hahaha HAHAHAHA!”

“He’s at it again. Sod this. I’m off.” Tari the Daemonette winked out of existence, never to return.

“You observe, Lord Tlac’natai, but you cannot penetrate my paper-thin disguise.” Iyskyth removed a pair of false elf ears and revealed himself as what he really was - an overpowered, scantily-clad-magic-character-authoring copy of Esurc the saurian equivalent of Chuck Norris. “I am Rose Thorn. I was banished and now I return to claim my birthright. Esurc’s Fluff Index will be mine!”

“A paper-thin disguise? What a surprise-shock!” Y’ttar studied his long fingernails and avoided making eye contact with anyone.

Esurc raised himself to his full height and thundered, “You will never have any part of my fluff index, evil twin.”

“Is that so? Check out the second post within it. I am far superior to you, and I will have what I desire.”

“Excuse me, said Bob. “if you are equal and opposite, in what way are you superior to Esurc?”

“My forum name can be pronounced.”

B’ob nodded. “Just give him the keys to the index, Esurc. He has you beaten.”

“I will not concede defeat without first trashtalking him mercilessly. I shall begin. Shaddup you. I've seen you fail at handball.”

“Only because you were distracting me about your writers block. I can't even block you out with music! And calling poor Bo’b names like that was rude. You're a bad person.”

“If I recall, in this literary universe it was you who called me ‘Boo’b’,” noted Boo’b.

The twins ignored him.

“You can be quiet, Esurc. Go back to doing your maths.”

“It’s less maths and more 'saying the same thing for an hour when everyone figured it out half an hour ago’.”

Scalenex, whose head had been nestled comfortably in his hands, directed an aside to Xholanka. “How did you deal with this kind of thing in the old days?”

“Like this.” Xholanka took the Orb of Uxmac from Y’ttar’s paw and walked to the balcony. Then he threw it as far away as he could.

Discomute nodded his approval. “Good arm.”

“I’ll say,” added Lord Txlanputin. “It almost made it out of the city bounds.”

Xholanka walked back in to the council chamber a made a horizontal circular shape with his hands. A portal appeared on the floor, under the twins’ feet. They dropped from view without pausing in their trashtalking. Then he clapped his ethereal hands together and the portal closed. There was sweet silence.

Scalenex raised his head. “You can summon a trapdoor at will?”

“Yes.”

“How I wish I had that power. Is there some form of Old One technology that would allow you to place the orb further away, say, in the heart of the sun?”

“Of course. That is why there are only two Orbs of Uxmac left in this realm. And it also conveniently explains solar flares.”

“There must be a great many annoying beings in the multiverse.”

“Not as many as there used to be.”

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

Their sudden displacement to the edge of the city did little to dampen the twins’ vehemence, or to enhance their coherence.

“Go back to your dark elf momma, evil one.”

“I’ve only just got to Lustria, now you are telling me to leave. And what makes you think I’m the evil one?”

“I’ve got more friends than you.”

“Those are characters, Esurc. Made up friends. They don’t count.”

“But I made up elaborate back stories for some of them. Plus, I can’t be the evil one. I’m not the host for a daemon.”

“Mwahahahahah. What makes you think I am the host for only one daemon?” With that Rose Thorn threw his arms wide and a nasty tear formed in the fabric of reality. He had opened a warp rift, and from it all manner of daemonic forms began pour out and flood into the city.

Esurc was aghast. “What are you doing, you freak? None of them have any clothes!”

“If you don’t stop criticising my work Esurc, I’m gonna tell Mum.”

The pair began to trade physical blows.

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

The open warp rift did not escape the attention of the council-of-the-wise-plus-Discomute. They gathered at the balcony edge and watched distorted daemon forms swoop and bound onto the streets.

“Oh, Mahrlect,” breathed Priest Ndege. “There is no way we will be able to deal with this during just one astral train journey. And I hate cliffhangers.”

Scalenex shook his head sadly. “Klodorex is undefended because the army marched out to face the dark elves. Who could have foreseen that Y’ttar bringing back that elf could have caused this. Do we agree that the Great Plan is failing?”

“I think we can come to an accord about that.” said Bo’b. “Show of hands in support of having a Great Accord which states that the Great Consensus about the Great Plan is completely bogus.”

“It is time then,” said Y’ttar. “The secret vault with all of the warptokens and warpstone weaponry must be opened.”

“What makes you think we have a secret vault, old bean?”

“It must be secret. I have been sniff searching for it for ages and I haven’t found it yet.”

“That will not be necessary. I will deal with the daemons,” stated Xholanka. “The coming of Chaos was the fault of my brothers and possibly sisters. (With multidimensional ethereal bits, who can tell?) Their carelessness is the reason I exiled myself from them, and it is what led to their annihilation. Their power is absent from this dimension and perhaps that is for the better. But yet I will strive to correct their error.”

The others were giving him an odd look.

“Annihilation, old boy?” Lord Txlanputin cocked a moist eyebrow at him. “Absent from this dimension?”

Xholanka gave him an odd look back. “Their forms and their power are hidden from me. They are gone.”

“They are not gone from our point of view, my old china plate. We pray to them and offer sacrifices, and they answer with blessings and miracles.”

“Hollow superstition. A waste of effort and skaven hearts-“

“Hear-hear!”

“- the Old Ones died and their influence ended with them.”

“Would nothing convince you otherwise?” Scalenex interposed himself. “We have daemons pouring into the city, and for reasons best known to Lord Warden, the… I can’t say it.”

“Please.”

Scalenex sighed. “The Panaa-manaa canal is infested with sea monsters and liopleuridons. I propose that Saurus Bo’b goes to the Temple of Revered Tzunki, which is on the other side of the city, more or less adjacent to the daemon n spewing warp rift. If he makes it that far, he should offer prayers to your brother, who, as you may remember, is the Old One associated with rivers and aquatic life, and ask him to cause a miraculous flooding of the city. The sea monsters will, at the very least, severely hamper the daemon throng. And such a miracle may make you reconsider just how lost your siblings really are.”

“Excuse me, Scalenex.” Bo'b had his hand up again. “Tzunki is not my favourite Old One, or it could be said, I am not his favourite lizardman. He has hardly blessed me in the past. Given my famous lack of swimming ability, it could be argued that he hates me and has cursed me.”

“Which would make your success in this endeavour even more miraculous. Who else is usele- should accompany you? Go with Y’ttar, Lord Da'rk-IV and the dimwit butterknife wielding kroxigor. Good luck.”

Scalenex drew Y’ttar aside as the others prepared for their holy and wholly suicidal mission. “A quiet word, if I may. Bo’b has raised a valid concern. Being out of Tzunki’s favour, his prayers may not stir Tzunki to act. If that is the case, perhaps a sacrifice could bring his favour. A sacrifice of a being that Tzunki is known to despise would be ideal. Think about it.”

Y’ttar gave a jerky nod before scampering to catch up with Bo’b, Lord Da'rk-IV and Jamjar as they descended the citadel stairs.