ATM II RPG

[littlemanpoet]

Panakeia burst through the doors to the balcony.

"What is happening?" she cried.

She seemed frenetic and not at all herself. In fact, she was laughable, with big, expressive cow eyes and gobs of concern oozing from every pour. It was actually repulsive to Anakron; how at odds with the jealous hauteure of their recent confrontation.

Anakron grinned coldly, for she was ridiculous. "The Mountain is moving."

"I know that!" she answered in consternation. "What has happened to you?"

A cold knife of accusation slid its way into his heart, for he knew precisely what she meant. Were he to answer with the truth, he knew that he would unravel from his precarious perch of self-respect, and turn into puddy in her hands; he refused the humiliation and chose to avoid the question.

"I have konveyed the Dweomer, and this orc has as a result become the worshipper and prophet of his new god, Mount Doom, Womb of the Ring."

Lûgnût rose, looking at them fiercely. His androgyneity had disappeared. "Then you understand, Grand Anakronist!"

"I do. Go and spread the word!"

"I shall!" Lûgnût roared, his pathetic pig face turning fierce with the fanatcism of unbridled belief.

"What are you doing?" Panakeia half yelled, her voice hinged on the brink of seeming panik.

"What I was meant to do," Anakron answered with chilling calm.

[Diamond18]

When the Mountain lurched to a stop, Skittles ran to a window to see where they had landed. She looked out and saw the sparkling waves lapping the sandy beaches of Lost Angles, and this she did exclaim:

"Sick!"

Smilog, Tollin, and Roggie exchanged puzzled glances.

"Be back later, boss," Skittles said to the smouldering King of Mordor. "I've got a wave to catch!"

With a cheerful wave she bounded away. Smilog, Tollin, and Roggie exchanged puzzled glances, then Smilog said, "I have the strangest feeling of deja vu..."

Skittles bounded to her room and rifled through her trunk once more, flinging gingham, tweed, and argyle to the four corners of her room. She emerged minutes later in an itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka dot bikini which she wore for the first time that day. Under one arm she carried a matching yellow polka dot surfboard, which was neither itsy nor bitsy, teenie, or weenie.

It was truly a pity that the majority of the Gondorian contingent was back at Mount Doom's usual residing point, since this was a sight that surely would have boggled their minds right down to the ground... and the yellow polka dot flip-flops on Skittles' feet. Luckily for their collective sanity, they were not there to witness Skittles or the rest of the anakronistic wonderland that was Lost Angles.

She did, however, pass the Mordorian contingent in the halls. They stood rooted to the spot, eyebrows raised (except for Lola who uttered a delighted laugh). Igör noted the stylish new itsy bitsy teenie weenie yellow polka-dot iPond Mini which Skittles held in one hand, as the itsy bitsy teenie weenie earbuds delivered a rousing chorus of Jerk It Out to her ears. (And yes, she danced to it as she walked.) She blew a startled Dracomir a kiss and rounded a corner, disappearing from sight.

After she had passed, Maika remarked, "You're sure that's Roggie's warlordess, eh?"

[Hookbill the Goomba]

So they were then left in the middle of the corridor leading from the main Casino area. Smilog scratched his head as Skittles dashed away wither unusual outfit and even more unusual wooden contraption. "It'll never catch on," muttered Smilog, "where are we anyway?"

"Its a horror worse than even the deepest pits of Mordor!" cried Roggie, as he leant out of the window and screamed, "worse even than staring into the depths of the great eye itself!"

"Speak sense, man!" cried Tollin, "where in Middle Earth are we?" the Minotaur looked out of the window for himself. He stepped back, "I don't see what’s so bad."

"Its..." shivered Roggie, "s-s-s"

"You sound like Tollin with his lisp," mocked Smilog, "speak with words not nonsense. This isn't the house of Tom Bombadill." The Balrogian figure burst into a torrent of fire and shadow, filling the corridor with flame. All about him the shadow gathered and then he drew himself up and the shadow about him seemed to stretch forth like two great wings.

"Mock me not!" bellowed Roggie, his voice becoming as deep as the abysses and as terrible as the wroth of Sauron himself, "Foul smelling bearded creature! I am Roggie! Master of the Casino!" then the fire seemed to dye and he returned to his abnormal self, still scowling at the Dwarf. "A beach!" he said plainly.

"What?" Smilog said with a start, "Never heard of it."

"Its terrible!" cried Roggie, "at least, if the stories are true."

"Oh, be quiet," said Tollin, "you know as well as I do that they are. But it doesn’t look so bad. See, there’s an ice cream stand!"

"What's ice cream?" queried Smilog,

"No idea," replied the Minotaur, "but it looks tasty. Lets go and explore."

"I've got a better idea!" shouted the Dwarf, "lets find out who is driving this mountain first! We need to get to the crack of Doom as quick as possible. Who knows if the Mountain might drive off again while we're all outside drinking..." he peered out and read the firs sign he saw, "Nike shoes? Besides, it shouldn't take long. I have the blue prints here..."

[Celuien]

Anakron doing what he was meant to do? Horror and despair filled Panakeia's heart. He was wrong. Cruelty and evil could not be Anakron's fate. Of that she was certain. She thought of the words he had spoken to her when he told her how she fared in the Offending Party's tests.

"Panakeia, you would see past the Anakron to the Elempí...It is so long ago. Too long! I've worn these robes and this face of authority for so long that I had forgotten that there was anyone in here but the austere Anakronist. You have helped me remember who I am. Thank you."

Oh! If only she could help him remember now instead of blundering about provoking the worst in him by her foolishness! There had to be some way. Pity seemed an unlikely path. Had his heart been open to it, he would have responded to her frantic appearance. Anakron had not. Whatever darkness had taken him closed that part of his mind too. But if Panakeia could find some spark of the Anakron she knew, maybe she could bring him back. Or so she hoped.

Panakeia steeled herself. She would need every bit of her wits and cunning for her task. Irrationality would be no help. Her hysterical behavior earlier was responsible for Anakron's current state and letting it control her again could only make things worse.

"What do you mean, this is what you were meant to do? Anakron, listen to me! Please. You aren't yourself. The Anakron I know would never do anything like this." She faltered, nearly tearing up again, but quickly resumed her resolve. "I have a feeling that it's my fault. I behaved horribly earlier. And I'm sorry. More sorry than you can know. Please forgive me, and don't let my foolishness destroy you. Because this cruelty will destroy you. If you let it happen. I know it, and so do you." She stopped again, struggling to see if her words had any effect. But she couldn't read Anakron's expression. Then another idea occurred to her. A risky tactic, but Panakeia was desperate. She lowered her voice. "Anakron, you once said that I saw past the Anakron to the Elempí. That you had forgotten the Elempí. And you thanked me for helping you remember who you were. Won't you let me help you again?"

Anakron began to reply, but at this most inopportune moment, Lûgnût jerked toward the door. "I go to spread the word," he hissed.

In a sudden moment of unexpected courage, Panakeia stood between Lûgnût and his exit. "No," she said. In a quiet, deliberate voice she continued, "You will not. This must end here. Now."

Lûgnût hovered over Panakeia. She stared up at him defiantly, her heart pounding, waiting in a near panic for Anakron to say something. Anything.

Lûgnût stepped closer. His body cast a shadow over her slight frame. The players in the scene froze.

[littlemanpoet]

"Excuse me, Lûgnût," Anakron said.

"What?" Lûgnût appeared ready to consume Panakeia, head, arms, legs, feet and all, right to the marrow; or tear her limb from limb to get her out of his way.

"I say, Lûgnût, do nothing. I will take care of this minor distraction. Step aside."

Lûgnût stepped aside. Anakron approached Panakeia and laid his hands on her shoulders. He met her eyes, and glared at her. "You. Will. Move." She stared back at him and shook her head, her eyes tearing and her face contorting with fear - and something else he could not read. He laid hands on her upper arms, and pushed her bodily out of the doorway. He made sure not to harm her, but did not suffer her to stay his purpose.

"Do not think that you can stop me with such puny attempts, Panakeia of Harad. I am not so easily swayed; certainly not by the likes of you. Lûgnût! Get you gone!"

The orc darted through the door and down the hall. Anakron released her. Now there was outrage in her tear begrimed face. Anakron clicked his tongue and folded his arms.

"Little fool. Now, what were these persuasive arguments that you had so hoped to sway my soul with? Do humor me while you have the chance."

[Celuien]

Anakron was being cruel. Nothing more or less. But he had saved her from Lûgnût's clutches. That, at least, was hopeful. But he called her a fool, and pushed her aside as a 'minor distraction.' Panakeia's pride was hurt. She had thought to make some impact. But there was no progress...and Anakron was patronizing her. She started to remember her anger, but forced it back, remembering that Anakron was, indeed, not himself.

At any rate, Panakeia didn't appreciate being manhandled. Nor did she appreciate his tone of voice. Most uncalled for, she thought. She looked at him sullenly. "I told you my arguments. This isn't you. The Anakron I love - love enough to make a ridiculous spectacle of myself over - knows better. Don't you remember? You sacrificed yourself to save Mardil. You taught the Offending Party a lesson in kindness and brotherhood in Dol Gaurgauroth. You gave me back my conscience. Have you forgotten?"

Silence. Anakron was sneering at her. She rubbed her arm where he had pulled her out of Lûgnût's path. Panakeia wasn't hurt, but the indignity of being brushed aside for an idiot Orc grated at her. And against her better judgment, she snapped.

"What's the matter with you, anyway? Whatever I did wasn't bad enough to turn you into this raging monster. You're being a fool. A downright, deliberate fool. Walking right into trouble and turning your back on whatever good you stood for. You're throwing everything away for no good reason. And now you won't even listen to good advice. I don't know why I'm wasting my time on you."

Panakeia feared that she had gone too far. But she stood her ground, eyes flashing with fury. If kindness didn't work, maybe anger would. Or so she hoped. It was too late to retract her words.

[littlemanpoet]

Anakron's mouth spread in a slow grin.

"You have no idea what I am," he said. "Your anger is refreshing. Almost it makes me want to make you my abbettor in ill doings. But no. Your pride is hurt, that is all. You are right-" At this, Panakeia looked up hopefully, for perhaps she had gotten through to him? "-right that you are wasting your time on me. Go to Ithilien while you still can. Leave Mordor before the gate is closed."

With that, he turned from her and followed the way the orc had run.

He cared not what she said to him. Not at all. She had become a gnat, a fly the buzz of which was a mere nuisance. Better to slap her out of existence. No. He did not fool himself. He wanted no harm to come to her, for she was not the cause of any of the evil in him or around him. She did not deserve-" he stopped his thoughts cold, for such thoughts threatened to soften his heart, and he could not afford that. Better to concentrate on what new false religion to engender, and how to make it violent.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Not content with being mean, evil and a walking inferno, thought Smilog, it turns out that Roggie is also a stingy moneygrubber.

Psamothos was grilling the Balrog verbally and Roggie merely sat on the floor moping and mumbling. All the while Tollin and Smilog walked off to see if they could find the way up to the Crack of Doom and try and get the Mountain Back to Mordor. "What shall we do about Roggie?" asked Tollin.

"Him?" Smilog cried with a laugh, "bother him! Or, rather, don't bother him! Lets leave him to his... erm... sandy fate. Its more than he deserves." The dwarf produced an apple from his pack and began eating it with loud deliberate noises. "I've worked for him for so long," continued the Dwarf, "and all he remembers was the one time I passed him the salt."

There was the sound of a large explosion from down the corridor behind them, and Tollin dashed back to see what it was. Smilog groaned and followed on, throwing his apple out of the window. Unfortunately, the apple sailed down and hit a beach bather on the head. The man got up and began to shake with fury, turning purest red in the face and his arms bulging like a squeezed tube of toothpaste with the lid still on. "I will destroy whoever did this!" he cried, shaking his fist and throwing the apple into the sea. The apple then hit a shark on the head and bounced off a surfboard before being thrown by a great wave back into the mountain.

Roggie lay on the floor holding his left knee and saying "Aaaagghh!" over and over again. Psamothos was in front of him, holding a bag of gold and looking rather disturbed. Smilog and Tollin walked over and saw that there was a great hole in the corridor and much of the carpet had been burned.

"Did you see that?" asked Psamothos, with a worried face, "it looked like... Well... you know... Him!"

"Who?" asked Smilog, before the apple hit him on the back of the head; he threw it out of the window again.

"Well, like Gandalf," Psamothos said, "only... fatter. And clothed in robes as red as blood. He ploughed through the wall, laughing like a maniac, threw a bag of gold at me and then went off though the other side of the wall." Roggie was trying to crawl away, but Psamothos put his foot on the Balrog's left leg. "Very odd indeed. Well Roggie, you'd better pay up."

At that moment, the whole ground began to shake once more, not as violently as the first time, but still quite horridly. Smilog dashed to the window only to see a few fires breaking out all over the beach, (incidentally, a long series of events caused by Smilog throwing out the apple; one clown was hit on the head by it and ended up throwing a cigarette at a donkey who threw off his rider into a pile of manure, the rider then threw the manure at the donkey, missed and hit a fire extinguisher. The fire extinguisher had then fallen down and rolled to a barbeque and knocked it into a man who ran screaming into a tent).

The Mountain began to shudder some more, and the now sand covered wheels slowly rotated, letting the sand fall off. Tollin watched as Psamothos stole Roggie's money and then leaped out of the Mountain with a "Wooop!" and was lost in the hurricane of sand that was blowing around. Smilog turned this way and that before finally seeing a concealed doorway being forced open by the shaking. It hid some stairs and so he quickly grabbed Tollin and indicated that they should go that way.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

Certainly, neither Smilog nor Tollin had expected that. They stood bemused for a few seconds while Roggie stood looking smug and very pleased with himself. Eventually, Tollin pointed to the Door ladled Doom, "I say we see what is in there." he said.

"Smilog!" cried the dwarf, "My name is Smilog!"

"Door of Doom, eh?" said Roggie, ignoring the dwarf who then went on a mumbling rant that lasted a good few minuets. Slowly, they climbed the stairs towards the mysterious door, seeing as they had little other option; Santar had destroyed most of the stairs with his walking. "I wonder if this is the 'crack of Doom,’" mused Roggie, examining the plaque.

"Only one way to find out," said Tollin, pushing the door open and entering. They all followed and found that it was a large perfectly circular room. The door closed behind them with a click. Smilog gripped his axe and looked nervously around the odd room, wondering what to do and where to find an escape rout. There was no sound in the room and the floor felt strangely wet for something inside a volcano.

The floor was smooth and varnished, decorated with many images of Roggie dressed as a kingly figure. Yet, the floor was covered in a thin layer of water that seemed to have no right to be there at all. Suddenly, they heard a sound from above, an odd sort of sound, "What's that?" asked Smilog,

"What's what?" replied Roggie, examining the picture of himself on the floor.

"That 'waaaaaaarrrreeeeggg' sort of noise," the dwarf tried to listen carefully as the noise got louder. They all looked around to see where the sound was coming from, but Tollin guessed correctly, as he looked upwards and saw the plain ceiling open up and a torrent of water gushed out along with a strange man covered in meat. They were all swooped to the sides of the chamber by the flowing water and tried to hang on to anything they could.

Smilog coughed and spluttered as the waters settled, it seemed that there was another person in the centre of the room. "You!" cried the dwarf, "I thought you were dead!" for there in the room, stood, or rather lay, Andvarri, keeper (or seeker) of the legendary Gold.

"Roggie," said the man, "I need to use your mountain for a while." Andvarri struggled to his feet and wobbled a bit. "The gold is hidden under Mount Zoom itself, but we need to get back to Mordor. There we can use Roggie's peg leg to open the gates!"

"Look," said Tollin, "we're not interested in gold at the moment. We do, however, need to get back to Mordor." Roggie regarded the man with disgust as he tried to rid himself of the stench of pork. Smilog seemed strangely interested in the ground.

The Dwarf scratched the surface and began flapping his arms towards the others, indicating that he wanted them to be quiet. They were for a moment and could then hear a strange rumbling that was coming from below. All of a sudden, the Floor opened like a trap door and they all fell down with a "Waaaaaaaarrrreeegggg!"

Skittles had just sent the robot on its way and she was now rubbing her hands with glee, and grinning an almost evil grin. Igör was trying to slink away, but they all stopped as they could hear a strange noise coming from above. "What’s that?" asked Igör.

"What's what?"

"That sort of, 'Waaaaaaarrrrrreeeegggg!' noise?"

[Lhunardawen]

"You're sure that's Roggie's warlordess, eh?" Maika remarked breathlessly. Then she swooned a bit and fell slowly, hoping someone - even Dracomir, who was still mesmerized by the Skittles's flying kiss - would catch her ere she hit the floor. No such luck. But touching the ground was a relief; the awful movement of the Mountain left her carsick. Had it been just minutes ago? It seemed hours to her. Moving on (and how), she glanced back at those events in distant memory...

"Wha-a-at i-i-is go-o-i-ing o-o-n?!" Lola had blurted out in fearful surprise. Maika could only grin in spite of her own rocking self.

"I-i-i ha-a-ave no-o-o i-i-ide-e-a-a. Ma-a-y-y-b-e-e," this is getting tiresome, and their voices did not really shake like that, anyway, "we should go back to the room. We'll be safer there, in case this is an earthquake."

Of course Lola should have known better than to believe her, but Maika had ingeniously taken advantage of her initial surprise to let the witch of a girl do what she wanted her to do. Quickly regaining her "I'm in charge" look, Lola turned around and walked briskly; Maika followed behind her. She felt a bit dizzy after a while and realized that they were against the direction of the mountain's movement. Before long the movement had stopped and they were back in the hallway towards the room, but how they got there Maika did not know because she was too busy trying to keep herself from throwing up. And that was when she heard Dracomir's voice and her own gasped reply and the rest became yellow polka dots...

"Uhh...now what?" Igör said.

[Diamond18]

"Surf's up!" Skittles cried, hitting the beach. Not literally, of course, as she held no particular animosity for the beach. She hit it at a run and skipped along the hot sand, kicking off her flip-flops and dropping her iPod as she went.

Being generally a nuisance wherever she went, Skittles rather predictably disturbed her fellow beach bums. She scattered sand onto beach blankets and startled topless sunbathers. She knocked over sandcastles and stole candy from babies. She kicked beach balls into the water and interfered in a volleyball game. Chaos was King and Skittles his Queen.

Eventually, all the ruckus awoke Psamothos Psamathides, who was napping nearby in the sand, and he rose from the sand (naturally) to see what all the ruckus was about (naturally). But by that time, Skittles had abandoned the beach with a cry of, "Cowabunga!" and ran into the water with her surfboard. Psamothos Psamathides looked around and saw the havoc she had wreaked, but could not ascertain to whom the wreakage could be attributed. This made him very grumpy. Very grumpy indeed.

Now, insert various surfer slang and jargon into this section and you will know pretty much how Skittles spent the next vaguely stated period of time.