ATM II RPG

[Rune Son of Bjarne]

The spy of Mordor entered the through the door. His eyes searched the room, in hope to find Alli. This was indeed where they had parted last he saw her, there had also been a certain Ms. Martinet present, but Frej had not paid much attention to her. Being personal selected by Alli meant that he reported to no one else and he liked it that way. It gave him a certain feeling of importance, what he loved even more was being in the presences of Alli.

He was taken by surprise when he saw Lola, she was quite hard to take ones eyes off to say the least. He normally had no problem being around beautiful woman, but never had he met one where it had been quite so “outspoken”.

Frej forced him self to take his eyes off her and stair directly above her head, it felt like he had stood like that for ages when he finally spoke. “I need to see Alli at once” He had planned on a more formal way of getting his message across, but for some reason his mouth did not obey.

As he waited for her to reply, his thoughts went back to his mission and why it was so important that he found Alli at once. In fact everything Alli had worked so hard to create (or destroy) could fall apart if he did not find her soon. He had been racing on a scooter he confiscated from an orc child all day. This could be regarded as a bad move, his height taken into consideration. . .”The next time I am in a hurry, I will ride and Elk” He thought to him self “yes an Elk that is what I need, although they can be vicious, one of the once bit my sister, Of course that was on a trip to Lebenin, where she while swimming was attacked by the rare “Saltwater-Elk” and there isn’t much saltwater around Mordor. In fact I should make an Elk-farm where my Elk can frolic and play with other Garters. . . . “ The sight of Lola’s garters made Frej snap out of his Elk related thoughts and after a some intense staring his thoughts returned to Alli.

He could not take the silence from Lola anymore, this was to important to be delayed any further. He had to find Alli and it had to be now. He felt the desperation gather inside him and he lost control. Frej grasped the edge of the desk and screamed in an unnaturally high-pitched tone. “By flames of Roggie, don’t you understand what has happened? WE ARE ALL OUT OF TEA !”
He released his hold of the desk and almost collapsed against the nearest wall.

[Anguirel]

Finally recovering his vague sense of direction, Dracomir Apparated to the Lady Spymaster's office. Just because he could.

He found the door half open - someone had obviously just entered - and edged his way in behind them. He then recoiled, clutching his delicate shell-like ears, as a vast blond fellow bellowed something about tea.

Reeling from the effects of noise pollution, Tom threw out an arm to steady himself, and picked himself up against the desk. He then found that he was looking straight at Lola...who was apparently being winsome to the blond yodeller.

Dracomir coughed, swallowed, assumed a look of immense haughtiness and and regarded the pair icily.

"Nice to see things being carried on so professionally," he remarked. "Where's Ms Martinet? Or better still, Alli? Alli and I need to talk about...important matters on which the fate of Mordor depends. And which are not to do with tea."

He looked the stranger up and down. Fine, so he was bigger than him, had more muscles, but Tom's blond hair was much nicer, he was certain, than that bumpkin's locks. What could Lola see in him?

[Eomer of the Rohirrim]

Alli peeked through the hole in the curtains and whispered something that sounded an awful lot like "Aimé, this is completely moronic! Let me out." But Aimé insisted she stay still. There was a suspicious character in the hallway of the inn they had walked into, and Aimé was eager to question him.

"Well, well, good evening sir" Aimé sneered.

"Ah, it is that, lad, it is that. Why I've just been out for a lovely stroll round...."

"Blabbering about nothing already, are we?" Aimé thundered, visibly shocking the stranger. "It's an act, an act I say! My, sir! How hairy you are!"

The man tugged his shaggy beard, alarmed.

"And what big nails you have!" he yelled, eyeing the man's unkempt hands.

"And what large teeth you have!" By this stage the man had marched off and out of the corridor, shaking his head all the while.

Alli stepped out from behind the curtain with a look of slight (or sheer) bafflement. "Are you going to do this to every buck-toothed joe we come across?" The question was clearly rhetorical; Aimé guessed that Alli had other, more subtle, plans for wolf-hunting.

"This will not be as easy as that" she said quietly.

"Nevertheless, you shall need to hide. We need a place where no-one will think to look for you" replied Aimé, with a small smile. He had obviously relished getting back into the swing of loud, obnoxious accusations.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"I know... I know!" Alli cried in complete upset. "But where?"

She began to look around frantically, her always calm, always cool, always totally-hot-and-can-she-be-real-the-way-she-always-seems-in-control? attitude breaking a little. She realized that she was speaking loudly and rolled her eyes at herself, flicking her long, sleek black hair over a well-postured shoulder.

"Sorry." she added, not actually sorry. "Lost myself for a moment there."

She had long considered taking up smoking. Not for any particularly grand reason, but it always seemed like the truly intimidating people in movies and shows had a cigarette. No, she didn't want the average brand of nauseating smell and illness... but she always thought it might be a little bit cool to try out the image cast by her always carrying an unlit clove ciggie in her black gaunletted right hand. She looked down her arm, following the black leather until it met white silk until the silk was pressed to her skin by well-worked black leather wrist guards. Her slender fingers moved freely (she wiggled them absently to prove it). No... she didn't need a decoration. The world had to give her credit... she simply did not need spiced smoke to look cool.

She leaned against a wall, lifting her left foot behind her to lay flat against it. Always the epitome of serious nonchalance. She'd ditched the cape. She'd learned at some unspecified point within the last year or so that people were a lot more afraid of her when she stood confidently in street clothes than when she slipped through shadows in a deep cloak. It was warm and convenient, but when she really wanted The Image, her black overcoat was fitted to the waist, embelleshed subtly with black pearls (fifteen Dwarven smiths had died in search of the fiftieth... it would appear that Dwarves don't float well and, so, though they reached the pearls quite easily, they had lethal trouble getting back to the surface with them) and opals (from a few plundered hoards) and silver threading, and it took two handmaids to help her button it. It flaired impressively and billowed like only the cape of a truly evil supervillian can do. It would have looked vampiric on anybody else, but Alli's red lips, pale skin, and long black hair... well... okay, she admitted it. She looked completely vampiric. Really, that was the whole cool part of the image. People were terrified of vampires. They couldn't help it. Something to do with the prospect of everlasting life, probably. That glint in their dark eyes. Maybe the way 'w's always lost the second 'u' and ended up sounding like a 'v' instead. Whatever it was, when Alli wanted to impress, she dressed up like the living dead and made the whole corpse concept into a fashion statement.

"Aimè!" she suddenly hissed. He looked at her. He'd been looking very intently at a piece of brick that may or may not have whispered to him a moment before.

"What?"

"I thought of a good place."

"Where?"

"Can't tell you... if any of my enemies are reading this... they'd learn..."

"Then how do we... um... narrate this?"

"Very carefully. Check this out: my idea is not to hide in a graveyard and pretend to anybody that comes along that I'm a ghost or zombie or something. My idea doesn't involved stage makeup. And it doesn't have anything to do with the idea that... um... I don't really know. But if we, wink wink, don't go hide out in a graveyard, I can finish this whole plan up with a fantastic rip off of scenes from so many different books and movies! I mean... The Phantom and Raoul in the graveyard... the jackal from The Omen... Just think of the impossibilities that could come from me, wink wink, not hiding out in a cemetary."

[littlemanpoet]

Anakron was most intrigued by the obvious interest of Skittles's cat for Sylvester, atop his raised and threatening staff, but was not so distracted as to miss Igör's query.

"I did overhear the Dwarf, Minotaur and Barrow Wight discussing werewolves. When I asked them about it they did not so much as deign to fake having heard me. The nerve. Konvey."

Sylvester yowled. Hissyfit spat. Igör said "ouch", and rubbed his rolling eye.

Anakron did not know how he knew such things, but this most recent konveyance apparently had given Igör an astigmatISM. In the rolling eye.

"Ugh. I can't see," said Igör. "Leastways, not as clear as afore."

"You hind part of an ape," Skittles said, "that's your dead eye."

"Apparently no longer," Anakron murmured.

Igör got a weird look on his face. Well, it was actually a smile, but on Igör it looked weird. He started jumping up and down. "I can see! I can see! Badly."

Just then Hissyfit jumped onto Anakron's staff, hissing, and started clawing his way up toward Sylvester.

"Keep that Hithy cat away from me!" yelled Sylvester.

to be continued. Join us same place, same time, same day next week as we learn the fates of Sylvester and Hissyfit. Will Hissyfit become the new cat atop Anakron's staff? Will Sylvester start talking to nobody but Skittles? Will Skittles hit the Dwarf? Will the Dwarf run off a cliff? Join us next time to get the answers to all these questions and much much more in the exciting next episode of.... Crackes and feedback drown out the sound of the name of the show.

"Cut!" cried Samê Blather. "Must be some confounded feedback from the mountain. Everybody, from the top."

"Nooooooo!"

Anakron looked dourly at Blather and yelled, "Konvay!"

"Ahhhhh!" Blather was hit with a serious dose of asceticISM, changed his name to Diffay Runt Blather, and founded a monastery for former Mordorian teevee directors. Word was that it was a hit.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"Wereducks, eh?" mused Tollin as they walked down the corridor towards the commotion, "that would explain a few things." exactly what he meant, he did not say, but he stroked his chin in deep thought. The Barrow Wight puffed on his pipe once more and began humming an old tune he had learned on the Downs. Smilog, on the other hand, merely grumbled to himself and stroked his beard, letting the crumbs and bits of wall fall out of it.

You! Dwarf!" Anakron called, turning to the dwarf, "You ignored me. Why?"

"I don't know," hummed the dwarf, "Skittles talks a lot of nonsense. Wereducks may be another one of her delusions." Anakron stared at the Dwarf, hardly believing his eyes and ears. "How can you be certain?"

Tollin bowed his head and replied, "Two reasons; first, those footprints we saw on the mountains side, they were webbed feet and too big for any normal duck. Secondly, the hole in the wall down there had feathers all over it."

"Palthwait is one of those blasted things?" coughed the Barrow Wight, sending smoke right into Anakron's face.

"I don't think so," continued Tollin, "in league, perhaps, but I don't think he is one." They walked on, nodding slightly to Skittles, not wishing to get caught up in her affairs again. Once bitten, twice cautious. Anakron was about to explode.

Anakron's teeth clenched and his brow lowered menacingly. "Do you not know who I am?" he grated.

"Why?" said Skittles, "have you forgotten?"

Anakron ignored her.

"Dwarf! Come back here!" he called. Smilog stopped and turned around. Anakron felt suddenly vindicated and said with a note of triumph, "So, you have been ignoring me!" He paused for effect, then in a growl said, "You will pay." Smilog began to walk back towards him Anakron nodded patiently. "Just answer my question." he paused as Smilog picked up a pipe from the floor.

"I thought I dropped something." he said, shaking his head again and returning to his little party.

"No wonder people assault him with such regularity!" said Anakron.