[Thenamir]

Sauerkraut sat in his luxurious home-office on the top floor of the tower of Dorktank, watching the talented It-Ship perform on the stage of Improvas through his Net connection on his new 42-inch flat-plasma-screen cell-antir. "An amusing group," mused the old wizard, "I must see if that Grrrralph is available for our next U-Rock-High musical production." He had been trying to decide between You're a Good Orc, Grizhnakh Brown and Seven Beasts for Seven Nazgul, but now he considered perhaps Burglar on the Roof might be more appropriate for that impish dwarf and his dragon.

Things seemed to be going well. Mogul had no idea that his advertising campaign was already being broadcast to the population of Soreham. Let Mogul have his billboards, hah, Sauerkraut thought, my persuasive ads are going directly into the homes of the Sorethighhim, into their living rooms, into their minds. My mole, that Hasbeen, has turned out to be a useful idiot, setting up my cell-antir connections to the power of those Ent pieces right under their very noses. I will rule with none to...

Sauerkraut's overconfident reverie was interrupted when his newfangled cell-antir screen went suddenly to static, then to a "Technical Difficulties, Please Stand By" display. He arose from his obsidian throne (with the hand-crocheted seat cover for those cold winter mornings) and pounded on the cell-antir with his wrinkled but hale fists in frustration. "Badlûk!" he called to his minion-in-waiting, who scampered into the room like an over-steroidal orangutan. "Send out a 'repair' team to check our Soreham base station, double-quick!" Badlûk high-tailed it out of the room at top speed. He had no intention of having his tail used for a broom.

"Grimy is going to have a lot to answer for if those thighs are damaged..."