Thread: ATM II RPG
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Old 09-22-2006, 02:10 PM   #237
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"How far is it to the tavern?" Hyarmenwë asked Maika. "I'm afraid I don't know Mordor too well."

"About half an hour, as the Nazgûl flew," said Elrogorn, "more like two hours as a vulture flies, and probably about three or four for these old nags."

"I think he was asking me," said Maika, a bit stiffly.

"Why, so he may have been," said Elrogorn, "but as official Ranger of this company, it falls within my expertise."

"So we're a company now?" Maika looked faintly amused.

"Well, we're getting there," said Elrogorn. "We still need a flatulant Dwarf, a wisecracking Halfing, and an anti-hero. We've already got the noble, dashing hero (that's me), the fair maiden, and the wise old sage."

"Don't you think that's a little... passé?" asked Maika.

"This is Mordor," shrugged Elrogorn. "Passé is the fashion. Well, one of the fashions."

"Surely there aren't halflings here in Mordor," said Hyarmenwë.

"Sure there are!" said Elrogorn. "For some reason, the culture that all these anakronisms come from is fascinated by Hobbits. There's a whole "Little Hobbiton" section in downtown Lûndûn. Some great ethnic food there. Ever been to that decadent little mushroom shop on Bingo Bolger-Bracegirdle-Boffin-Baggins Boulevard, Lady Maika?"

Maika had, and she and Elrogorn reminisced briefly about the delights of the shop, which Hyarmenwë resolutely attempted to ignore. A couple hours later, as the midday sun was rising to its highest point in the sky, they returned to a familiar point in Gorgoroth, the Gondmordorian tavern in sight.

"Ah, the good old culture-in-exile," said Elrogorn nostalgically. Abruptly, Elrogorn slipped from nostalgia to a stiff battle stance.

"Wereducks!" he cried, somersaulting backwards off his horse, ending up standing right side-up, facing the opposite direction, in what must have been an anatomically impossible manuveur, sword already flying to his hand.

"Enter the building and do what you must!" he cried at Maika and Hyarmenwë, who had already begun leaving him. "I shall fight these foul beasts!"

As Hyarmenwë was dismounting and tethering his nag, he happened to glance behind him. Quickly, he averted his eyes and dashed into the inn. For he had seen the immense, orange-billed visage of a towering rubber-duckie waddling into sight.

Last edited by Formendacil; 09-24-2006 at 01:36 PM.
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