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What was this racket in the heart of Lūndūn? Anakron stopped to have a look.
It was a crowd colorfully and anakronistically dressed in garb that was known in those provinces of Mordor as kounter kultural. Anakron wondered who did the kounting, and what it had to do with kultures. He listened more closely to the raucous noise they were making. It was some kind of protest, apparently.
"What do we want?" cried the leader.
"No Istari!"
"When do we want it?"
"Now!"
Anakron grinned. He could appreciate their sentiment. However, he was evil, and therefore he had work to do, and it had to do with this crowd. He raised his staff.
"Konvey!"
All of a sudden, as if by the power of a very dweomer, various members of the crowd started hawking their wares, which happened to be booze, hand-wrapped smokes, pills of various assortments, and other such paraphernalia.
"I recognize this," Anakron said to himself. "HedonISM."
But something had caught his attention. That leader's voice sounded oddly familiar. He took a closer look, wondering if it were some orc like Lūgnūt getting himself into unnecessary trouble, or a over-educated Troll that was off its interdisciplinary rocker. It was a woman.
No. It's not her, is it?
Anakron made his way through the milling crowd, and had to refuse a toke, a bleeve, an assortment of colorful little pills, and a stocked pipe of questionable contents, on his way to the soapbox.
Oh ye gods. It was her. What in Middle Earth was she doing with these hedonISTic were-hippies, protesting against the ---- oh. ---- against the Istari. Anakron understood. Can't she get it through her head that I'm evil and provoking the Blue Istari is not going to do her any good?
"Panakeia, me love, I am going to have to konvey an ISM upon you," he muttered.
He had made it to the front of the crowd. She was grinning smugly. Oh, yes, she knew exactly what she was doing. He should have known.
"Hello there, Panakeia," he said just loud enough in a moment's lull, and raised his staff.
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