[littlemanpoet]

Mount Doom Casino and Resort Celebrity Hunt

Anakron stood at the entrance to the Mount Doom Casino and Resort. The seven members of the Offending Party stood before him, in various states of health, perplexity, excitement, annoyance, and high dudgeon. Wilhelmina's ferret sneezed all over Fléin, who's eyes were watering and turning red with conjunctivitis; and who also seemed to be trying to keep his supper ... or something ... down. Alli, hands on hips, trying to look bored, glanced sidelong at Mardil, trying not to be noticed doing it. Sai kept blinking, trying not to have that "deer in the headlights" look from being new to Mordor - - - and failing; nearby orcs with legal pads and kameras kept nudging each other and pointing rudely in her direction, their yaps flapping and sneers mincing as if they were plannning to take video advantage of her discomfort. Mardil's lids were half closed, his arms folded across his chest, facing Anakron while his eyes darted here and there, taking stock of his surroundings. Valde looked down his tragic nose at the proceedings, trying very hard not to look gratified that Panakeia had attached herself to him, one dainty hand fetchingly inserted in the crook of his elbow; she was, of course, making the most of having been his savior during the last challenge, looking for the first opportunity to use his gratitude to the best advantage.

Anakron sniffed appreciatively at the unspoken goings on amongst the group. Creativity in the face of adversity seemed to be a strong suit for at least six of them. Valde had much to prove yet. It was time to give him in particular, and them in general, a challenge that seemed for all Mordor as if it would be well out of his - or their - comfort zones.

"Greetings," Anakron intoned. "None of you has seen fit to attempt a remonstration with me in regard to your point total from the second challenge. That is well. You would have fared ill.

"The test you will undergo for the third challenge is as follows. You must seek out those who reside in this resort, or in Trollywood, or in Lost Angles, who have been appeared in Mordor anakronistically from the far distant future, where they are apparently known as celebrities (how in Mordor they achieved such a suspicious renown is beyond our ken). You are to find ways, other than theft or murder, to make them part with that which they most hold dear. Let us take, for example, one 'Witless' Spears person. Let us presume that Panakeia manages to persuade said celebrity to part with what she holds most dear. That does not relieve the other six of you of an attempt upon that celebrity, for she will still possess something else which she now holds most dear in the absence of that which Panakeia is presumed to have relieved her.

"I shall not name these so-called celebrities. You are to seek them out by means of your own ingenuity. Anyone who fails to present to me one such most valued item, whatever it may be, will be considered to have failed the challenge.

"You have until sundown. Begin."

The reality show orcs ooh'd and aah'd their effeminate delight and began to name off various celebrities in such a lisping garble that none of the Offending Party could make out a one of them.