ATM II RPG

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"Curse you!" cried Smilog as he lost once again at a card game he didn't fully understand, "mark my words, card slave, my vengeance shall be soon! You will rue the day you ever-" the mountain shook as it began moving once again. The Dwarf was cast across the room and smashed his face into a wall, Tollin and the Barrow Wight held onto a table that was bolted to the ground.

A large wooden table was thrown up into the air and glided towards Smilog who was now clinging on to a pillar of marble. He gave a shill cry as he swung around to the other side of the pillar and the table was smashed to splinters. Slowly, the shaking became smoother and more bearable. Apprehensively, the Barrow Wight got to his foot and looked for his other amongst the wreckage. Tollin helped Smilog up and then slapped him across the head; "I blame you for this." he scowled.

The three of them walked out of the casino room and made their way to the nearest window and peered out at the speeding scenery. "I think I'm going to be sick!" cried Smilog, "we'd better get somewhere different and not so high up." So they all moved towards the near by stairs and climbed downwards, even though they were filthy and covered in goo. Several things appeared to be moving in the slime, and Smilog was sure he could see a pair of eyes looking out of one step.

Suddenly, The Barrow Wight peered out of a small window and cried allowed, "It's Minas Mor-go!" they all looked and sure enough the flying city was on the tail of the moving mountain. Mount Zoom made a sharp turn as the flying thing whooshed right past, almost hitting it, then it turned around and almost went completely onto its back wheels. Minas Mor-go flew up and then straight down, but thanks to some fancy driving, the Mountain narrowly missed the oncoming attack of the city. A huge rock was catapulted out of the city and bounced along the side of Mount Zoom, taking a lot of ash with it.

The Mountain swayed and turned many times, throwing Tollin, Smilog and the Barrow Wight all the way down the stairs. The City flew past once again the faced right in front of the zooming mountain, firing a barrage of boulders. Mount Zoom drove as fast as ever towards the oncoming attack, yet the ground was such that a large upturned area of rock acted as a ramp sent the mountain high above the projectiles and almost over the offending City. The bottom of the Mountain smashed through the tower on top of Minas Mor-go, bringing it to a sudden halt. Mount Zoom itself dashed off into the distance while the crowd of Barrow Wights inside the city shook their fists at it and cried, "You won't get far!"

Surprisingly, no one was killed in this little chase, and very few were injured. This was due to the very large blob like creatures guarding the doorways to the casinos acting as shock absorbers as people fell into their stomachs.

Smilog rose up and picked up the Barrow Wight's ribcage and handed it to his hand, this rather made him feel sick. Once the well-spoken Wight had put himself back together again, they went on through the door and found that they were near Roggie's audience chamber. "Lets hope he's not there," said Smilog.

"Why?" asked Tollin, "mightn't he be useful or something?"

"No," replied Smilog, "plus, we've run out of his wine." he pushed open the door and peered in...

[Diamond18]

Skittles was beginning to enjoy the proceedings, especially the part where she got to boss Hyarmenwë around in Alli's absence. Igör's handiwork was such that she had a wicked cool jagged scar on her wrist but felt it not the least, and had not lost any mobility. There were fresh scones on the table and hot chocolate to drink. She wasn't paying all that much attention to the matter at hand, but kept an ear open in case anyone else needed a reprimand.

It seemed all her bossy dreams came true when Smilog & Co. slipped into the room, trying to seat themselves inconspicuously in the back of the room. Latecomers! Joy! Plus, Smilog's companions weren't even diplomats and therefore had no business being in this room during negotiations! She opened her mouth to say something remonstrative, but it died on her lips when she spied a fourth body entering the room.

A Siamese cat slunk into the chamber. Well, not perhaps "slunk" but rather "sashayed." She wore a necklace of pearls around her neck (naturally) and a golden watch fob dangled from one ear.

"Hissyfit!" Skittles declared, identifying the new character for all and sundry. She leapt up and joyously took the cat in her arms. "Oh how I have missed you! If you will remember, you were supposed to go everywhere with me! Where have you been?"

"Off creating confusion and mass hysteria on my own, as I am wont to do," yawned Hissyfit, squirming in her mistress' tight embrace. "But, I got bored. I killed all the cute little mice and the rats with colorful personalities and broke up with Bob, so I came to see what you were up to."

"Bob?" Skittles asked.

"You remember Bob, my bobcat boyfriend. I saw him with a cheetah and that was that."

"Oh, that Bob," said Skittles with a nod, not curious in the least where in Mount Doom all the bobcats and cheetahs were hanging out. "I'm sorry to hear it. I hope you scratched him?"

"On the nose."

"That's my girl."

"So what's up with the freaks and geeks you're with?" Hissyfit asked, giving the room a bored once over.

Skittles puffed up proudly. "These are ambassadors from Gondor and Mordor, here to suss out the problems between Roggie and Mardil. Roggie has made me his Warlordess."

"Really?" Hissyfit's ears perked up. "What war?"

"The war that will inevitably take place should the negotiations fail."

"So you're here to sabotage the negotiations?"

"Well, no, I'm one of the Mordorian ambassadors trying to suss out the problems."

"And you're the Warlordess." Hissyfit preened her whiskers, remarking, "Seems like a conflict of interests."

Skittles shrugged. "I'm not very interested in the negotiations, so not really."

Hissyfit yawned. "In that case, let's get out of here and go do something fun."

"Like what?"

The cat flicked her tail. "Well, you're the top army brass, right?"

"Righto."

"Right. So, we could go abuse your power. Intimidate lower ranking officials and make the soldiers do a hundred push ups. Go dancing. Eat chipmunks. There's lots more fun things to do around here than chewing the fat with these chumps."

"Okay," Skittles agreed. "I want to go steal things from the armory, I've got a key now!"

They left Roggie's chamber and sashayed together down the hall. An orc forgot to salute Skittles and she karate chopped him in the throat, while Hissyfit perched on her shoulder giggling delightedly.

[Kath]

Igor had been intruiged at Maika's suggestion. What with all the madness over the past few days and the Gondorians having been out of the mountain for most of them, he had no way of knowing whether the idea of exporting Gondorians back to Gondor was genuine or some kind of plot. It seemed that Hyarmenwe was more inclined to believe that it was the latter.

"But I return to my first, and primary question: why would this be of benefit to Roggie? Unless you can demonstrate why HE would want that, I cannot but fear what hidden dangers lie in such a proposal."

Igor privately thought that Roggie would be pleased to see the back of some of the Gondorian citizens, those who simply got on with life in Mordor rather than making things interesting, but he knew that the Balrog would never admit to it, not wanting Mardil to have anything to use against him.

He was about to speak up and ask what hidden dangers there were, when he became distracted by Skittles, who had just finished her conversation with a cat that was either real or a figment of the imagination that only the two of them could see, and had wandered out of the room. He had previously found her escapades to be most amusing, but since she had almost got herself killed he found himself worrying about her when she disappeared off on her own.

Deciding that the negotiations wouldn't be hindered by his lack of attendance, Igor hurried after Skittles, lightly hopping over the orc that fell dead in his path on the way.

"Thkittleth!" He called, then realised no one else was around to hear and tried again.

"Skittles!"

This time she turned around, eyeing him in a way that made him wonder if she was considering how best to kill him, inwardly conversing with some imaginary friend, or just trying to decide whether she wanted to talk to him at all. Hoping it was one of the latter he continued.

"Mind some company?"

[Celuien]

An hour passed on winged feet as Panakeia raced toward Mount Doom. The metaphor collapsed into blistered feet at the end of that hour. High heels were no substitute for running shoes she thought ruefully as she pulled off the uncomfortable footwear. Gazing at the horizon, Panakeia winced. Mount Doom still loomed in the distance, not visibly closer than it had been an hour ago. She looked from her feet to the mountain's shadow, to her feet, and back again. The mountain was so far away, at least for a pedestrian. So very far away.

But what else could she do? In her haste to leave, Panakeia's credit and debit cards had been left in her Lûndûn flat. And she'd spent the cash she had brought in the mall and on lodging. There was no other choice but to walk and run to the mountain and Anakron for as long as her legs could carry her. No task was too great for love. All you need is love.

With that inspirational thought, Panakeia took up her journey again. And somehow it seemed to her that the mountain grew larger against the clouds, that she at last drew close to her destination. It was odd that the distance was covered so much faster with the same effort as before. Perhaps, she thought, the song in her head gave her new strength.

Then, of a sudden, the answer to the mystery came in the form of trembling earth and a cloud of dust. Mount Doom zoomed past her with a rumble and a roar, and she fell in the mountain's wake. The mobile mountain vanished, and Panakeia stared after it.

This was a new complication. Now Panakeia was not only penniless and without transportation, but also without any clear idea of where she was headed. There had to be some way to follow. Several newsvans sped after the mountain, kamuras rolling, as she ran over the problem.

One of the vans screeched to a halt nearby. A bevy of reporters and kamura crews poured out and ran to Panakeia, shoving my crow phones in her face and shining bright lights in her eyes. She glared.

"And now, live from the scene of Mount Doom's destructive passage, we bring you an exclusive eyewitness report of the destruction. Tell us how it feels to come within an inch of disaster." The reporter pushed the my crow phone closer.

Panakeia glared again and answered mockingly.

"Oh, it's lovely. Simply lovely. You really ought to try it sometime. Quite entertaining on a dull day. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be on my way to try to have another close call with Mount Doom."

The reporter and kamura crew put their heads together and whispered. "Wait. Are you following the mountain? What a scoop! If you'll give us the story, we'll help you follow. Looks like you could use a ride."

Panakeia hesitated. She didn't like the intruders. But at the same time, she did need their help. So long as they didn't find out who she was - if they did, there would never be an end to questions about Anakron, politics being a way to increase ratings - this could be a useful association.

"Deal."

The reporter beamed, visions of a promotion to the evening news dancing in his head. "Great! And your name is?"

Panakeia's mind went blank. She didn't want to reveal her identity, but she couldn't think of a suitable alias either. "Let's let that go by for now. It'll make for better viewing if I'm a mystery, won't it?"

"You're right. I see we're going to make a good team. Let's go!"

Panakeia joined the crew on the van, and they hurried after Mount Doom.

[Lhunardawen]

Even as Hyarmenwë launched into the first part of his tirade, Maika had to gape inwardly. What were you thinking! a know-it-all LGM in her mind scolded her, giving her a particularly sharp slap on the mental forehead. In her rashness she had forgotten about Roggie. He wanted his subjects kept in Mordor, and deporting the banished Gondorians was not a means to that end. What would he think of Maika and her loyalty if he ever got wind of what she suggested, considering there are other Mordorian ambassadors present to let him know?

No, she thought decisively, this would hurt him, but it must be done. Although not in this way.

"I've always liked that cat," she finally said, as Skittles, Hissyfit, and later Igör exited the room. Maika had taken no notice of Smilog, who entered just previously. His presence did not really matter, in her opinion; she could probably take on all four Gondorian ambassadors at once if the need arose.

"Anyways," she continued, "I thought that weird suggestion of mine would get some of you talking. I wondered if I had to propose an all-out war between our lands to break your silence..."

She saw Angawen and Hyarmenwë cringe at those words.

"What I was really thinking is, perhaps we could have some Mordorian goods reformed, repackaged, and exported to Gondor - anakronism-free. For example," she whipped out her cellphone and showed it to the others, who looked worried yet altogether curious at the sight of it, "this thing. We use it for communication. We could melt it and produce something else from it, like, say, a mini-palantír! With a lower range, of course," she added hastily as the Gondorians frowned. Maika placed her cellphone down on the table.

"We could probably do it with cars, terror profs, even mathematics; turn them into something you'll find more agreeable and equally useful. Of course the production would be done here, and the exiled Gondorians - of your choice, if you desire - could be hired to oversee it. Then the goods could be delivered to an agreed-upon place in the Mordor-Gondor border, to be picked up and distributed by your people. You can even have them checked by a quality control team if you're still worried."

Maika looked around; the Gondorians' faces revealed nothing.

"Or something," she ended lamely.

She stared at her hands, clasped together on her lap, vividly white against her black slacks. After a few moments of silence she risked a glance at Hyarmenwë. He was frowning. But then, to Maika's surprise, he suddenly turned to her. We'll talk about it some other time, his eyes seemed to say, but for all she knew he could have been saying You look like Daffy Duck.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

The buffet table had been cast across the room several times during Mount Doom's various travels recently. Smilog sat on his chair only to find half an egg sandwich already occupying it, he scowled and looked around. Several of the other delegates were looking confused even before Skittles left. The whole situation was getting weirder all the time. Tollin scooped up a large slice of chicken that only had one footprint on; he sniffed it and then ate it with a sigh.

"What is supposed to be going on now?" asked Smilog, peering out of the door only to see Skittles far off down the corridor and turning down a side passage, "do we continue negotiations or do we-" he was cut short as someone threw a chair at him. He lay on the floor dazed and unconscious. The Barrow Wight blew some smoke from his pipe and sat down, looking at the dwarf.

"Bad luck old bean," he said, "we'd better find something to do. We can't sit around on our backsides all day accomplishing nothing. That’s what politicians do. I say-" he paused as some of the delegates eyed him with evil eyes. "Well, jolly good show. What, what?" he moved to the door and dragged Smilog to his chair and sat him down. "Well, get on with your meeting... I'll be... somewhere else." the Wight dashed to the door, only to forget to open it and knock half his bones off as he hit the floor.

[the guy who be short]

Angawen snapped back to reality at the word "war." Normally, she wouldn't let her mind wander during any such meeting; she had time to be retrospective afterwards. But the meeting with Tugwubs in the little inn had annoyed her. He had seemed so normal, yet it turned out that he himself was an anakronism. She had shuddered that one seeming so normal could be so, and cursed the land where this was possible.

She turned to Maikaelwen, or Maika as she liked to be called. Angawen could not see why. The schwa at the end of her name was repulsive to one learned in high Elven speech.

"We have no need of mini-Palantíri in Gondor. Think of the evil our citizens could contrive with such devices... And I do not believe that these small metallic items of yours could ever rival the great Palantíri of old. May I see one?"

Maika handed her phone over, to a squeal of excitement from Smilog and a warning from Hyarmenwë.

"Do not worry, Hyarmenwë. I wish only to inspect this." She fingered it before handing it back to Maika. "I doubt such a device could survive a fall from the heights of Orthanc. We may, however, accept these if they were to be melted down and sold in bars."

"Oh, you can't drink them!" Smilog interjected, jumping up from his chair. All eyes turned to him. "Trust me, metal doesn't make for good eating or drinking - a Dwarf should know. Stick to ale."

All eyes turned away from him. A faint "oh" of comprehension floated over from behind, which they duly ignored.

Maika shifted to her other leg, and something almost resembling a frown flitted across her face. "It would be pointless to melt them down, but I do not see why we should not export metal, as Hyarmenwë-" she stopped short as she turned to him, for he was staring away into the middle distance.

"Hyarmenwë!" Angawen snapped firmly, "pay attention!"

"Sorry... but the Dwarf speaks wisely, albeit by mischance! Ale! Surely Mordor produces ale? This would be an acceptable export, a more than welcome one, providing production procedures are orthodox," the old man ejaculated.

Angawen and Dracomir nodded their assent, and turned expectantly to Maika.

[Lhunardawen]

With a casual wipe of her cellphone with her cardigan, Maika succeeded in diverging the Gondorians' attention from her eyes and her silence--particularly Angawen's, who scowled as though she found the gesture insulting. Maika needed time to think; she knew nothing that could satisfy their expectant looks. For one, never before had she drunk any alcoholic beverage, or indeed ever found the desire to; she was way too obsessed with keeping herself under total control to engage in such a frivolity. And surely, this counted as reason number two, there was a law! Minors under the age of twenty-one were not to be sold alcohol, she seemed to remember seeing somewhere...in Lost Angles, perhaps? It did not matter this time, Maika thought impatiently, all that mattered was that she was in danger of being revealed for the mere child that she actually was!

As she gently rubbed the hem of the cardigan on the cellphone screen, she mentally cursed Skittles and Igör for running off and leaving her alone. But she held no power over them, she admitted, and she would not give the Gondorians the pleasure of witnessing an argument among them three--or rather, between her and the two of them. Maika was simply relieved that the Gondorians did not tell her off for letting Skittles and Igör go when she just previously told Hyarmenwë to sit down.

Flipping the cellphone over to its back, which she rubbed a bit more vigorously, she looked around the table, almost hoping that by glancing at the vacated seats Skittles and Igör would reappear to her rescue. The Gondorians, Maika was amused to see, were still staring at her cellphone curiously...then her eyes fell on the Dwarf.

Never before--or ever again, one could safely suspect--did she feel grateful for Smilog's presence.

"Ale..." Maika repeated softly, merely moments later as she put her cellphone back in her pocket. With the slightest hint of a smile playing on her lips, she turned back to Angawen.

"Smilog was making a subtle suggestion that none of us but Hyarmenwë was perceptive enough to pick up, and for that we apologise," she added, nodding to Smilog, whose eyes popped on the verge of falling off. "Now, Smilog dear, you were saying? What about ale?"