ATM II RPG

[Lhunardawen]

Maika looked back in spite of herself, and turned into a pillar of salt. Er, she watched the raging werecreature, stunned yet altogether curious.

"Go, my lady!" cried Elrogorn, as though he had eyes at the back of his head. "This is not for kids!"

Maika was about to start on an icy response when she felt a strong grasp on her forearm forcing her away from the scene. It was Hyarmenwë, whose face was rather pale but otherwise set. The urgency in his eyes, though it might be there because of the wereduck, brought the thought of their own quest back to her. She nodded at him and suffered herself to be led into the inn.

"Quack! Quack!"

Maika rolled her eyes. Banters - even animals weren't spared. How thoroughly worthy of an old-school action film. Whatever witty (or otherwise) retort Elrogorn had for that, the two ambassadors no longer heard, for when the door closed behind them they were engulfed by the pleasant noise of scattered conversations around them. Maika was still amazed, even though she had been to the place a few times in the past. Everyone seemed to know everyone else. Typical Mordorian diners never felt this...this homey.

She realised that Hyarmenwë had let go of her arm and just begun to walk towards a vacant table in the distant corner of the room. She followed him, looking around, holding herself up importantly to disguise her interest.

"Maika!"

The Mordorian ambassador swung instinctively towards the table she had just passed. An old woman was ducking under it.

"How many times have I told you not to wander off when we're eating?"

I really should change my name, fumed Maika, picturing a mischievous little girl with food-stained clothes and pigtails.

"Meoooow."

Maika the cat got out from under the table and jumped suddenly onto the old woman's arched back, causing the poor woman to hit her head. Maika the human, on the other hand, pretended that sharing her name with an animal did not bother her the least. She resumed walking after Hyarmenwë, got to the table after him, and sat down on the seat he indicated. He took the place in front of her.

"I figured you must be famished; we have had no short journey," he said.

Yes. I want a smoothie. "I'm fine," she replied, "let's just get down to business. We'll have to be back--"

"Lord Hyarmenwë!"

Oh dear, Maika silently groaned. Don't tell me it's a guy addressing an aristocratic dog.

The two ambassadors turned and saw a happy-looking couple waving at them - or at Hyarmenwë, rather; Maika had no idea who they were. So, Hyarmenwë had already socialised with the people here! It might make their task a bit easier. She was glad to see that they were making their way towards their table, and Hyarmenwë seemed equally grateful. He promptly offered the remaining seats when they arrived, the lady taking the seat beside Maika's.

"How wonderful to see you again," the Gondorian told the newcomers.

The couple smiled. "The pleasure is ours, my lord," said the man. "What brings you back to this place? And I see you have a new companion." He nodded towards Maika, still smiling. The lady with him also looked at her welcomingly. Not for long, Maika thought, and proceeded to introduce herself, but Hyarmenwë beat her to it.

"This is Lady Maikaelwen, a Mordorian ambassador."

There was no change in their expressions. Was she seeing things? Did she really need a smoothie?

"Lady Maika, this is Aleksandur, and his betrothed, Fíriel. I met them the first time I had been here."

Maika was still in a detached state of disbelief and only managed to nod politely.

"You ask what brings me back here," continued Hyarmenwë, addressing the couple. "Do you remember what I once told you, before we left?"

"I do, my lord. You have a daughter somewhere in these parts," said Aleksandur.

"Precisely. Maika here had consented to help me look for her, and suggested starting with this place. She is, you see, herself Gondorian-born."

"I would have guessed it," said Fíriel. "She certainly looks the part."

Maika maintained a poker face. But inside...inside...she was not sure what she thought, or felt, regarding the comment. "Perhaps you would like something to eat?" she offered instead, in order to divert the conversation from her.

The other three approved of this idea, to Maika's relief. Fíriel waved at an approaching young lady in an apron, who smiled at seeing her and hurried towards their table. As anyone in their position would, the two men turned around instinctively to see at whom Fíriel gestured...and Hyarmenwë drew a sharp gasp.

[littlemanpoet]

Anakron raised his Sylvestrian staff, much to the interest of Hissyfit, and said, "Konvay!" at the bliddy Dwarf who was suddenly beset by a bad but very suitable case (he was after all a Dwarf) of nepotISM.

Satisfied, Anakron turned away and watched the Minotaur and Barrow Wight, to see if they would incur his wrath.

"I say, old chap," rattled the boney Barrow Wight, "lot of rubbish about 'isms', what?"

"The dweomer does as it does," Anakron replied.

"Where's your girlfriend?" asked Skittles. "Did you hit her with fetishism? Hissyfit! Come here and leave Sylvester alone!" She watched the cat with apparent fascination. "I don't care if he keeps on lisping at you!" Anakron raised an eyebrow and consciously ignored the warmistress, distracting himself by the entertainment of the Dwarf who was apparently growing sons from his forehead.

"Oucht!" cried the Minotaur. "That hath to hurth!"

[Kath]

Igor watched in amusement at the interaction between Anakron and Smilog, happily twirling his newly mended eye round and round in his head and seeing what he could see, though he quickly discovered that the inside of his eye socket was not something even he wished to see.

Spinning himself around rather than his eye he took in his surroundings, able to see them with double vision for the first time ever. Although, he mused, that could simply be from the concussion the staff had left him with.

Wincing he tuned back in to the conversation, belatedly realising that he was not the only one to have been ISMed today as he noted the small figures growing out of Smilog. It seemed that Anakron was in full konveyor mode and Igor wondered what he'd do to Skittles and Hissyfit if they didn't stop arguing behind him. AbsenteeISM perhaps.

[Hookbill the Goomba]

"What's that?" asked Tollin, pointing at Smilog's head where the head and shoulders of another form was now protruding. The Dwarf grunted and started to walk on. "What is it?" pressed the Minotaur.

"A helmet," said Smilog flatly. The Barrow Wight came up to him and whacked the extra head with his pipe. It did not react. Smilog now noticed it. "Good grief!" he exclaimed, "how long has that been there?" Tollin glanced back at Anakron who was laughing slightly. "I know who is to blame for this," Smilog continued as an arm began to grow, "Skittles. If there ever was a worker of myschief it was her!"

Anakron stopped laughing and scowled.

The Barrow Wight took a magnifying glass from the inside of his cloak and began examining the new body that was slowly coming out of Smilog's head. There was now all but the legs out, meaning that it was so heavy that the Dwarf had to sit down. "I say," said the Wight, "this is quite the odd thing, what - what?"

Thump. The body fell out and began squirming on the floor. It soon rose itself up and said, "Good evening gents'" it spun around and then exploded in a puff of smoke. The Barrow Wight said something inaudible. Smilog stood up and shook himself from head to tow. Stomping forth he approached Skittles with a face that would turn new milk. Skittles ignored him.

All of a sudden, the dwarf tripped over and landed flat on his face. As he did so, a boot fell off his foot and flew into the air, hitting a chandelier. A candle in it wobbled and fell down, hitting passing pidgin which had hopped into Mount Zoom out of curiosity. Squawking like a maniac, the Pidgin flew around in flames. Smilog got up and tried to hit the thing with his axe, yet it was too fast for him. Eventually he swung his axe with all his might and it connected with the flaming bird which was sent straight into Anakron's chest.

"A six!" cried The Barrow Wight, "jolly good show! Have you considered playing cricket?" Anakron stood still as the flames licked up his robe. He looked upon the Dwarf who was laughing with The Barrow Wight about the prospect of a cricket career. Finlay Anakron sighed and shook his staff at the Dwarf muttering some words.

Ten minuets later Smilog awoke in the middle of a quagmire. The stench of it nearly knocked him down with his nose held. In the distance, he could see the top of Mount Zoom, smoke still pouring from the top. Swearing, he got up and plodded in the general direction of the Mountain.
__

"Now that was uncalled for!" cried The Barrow Wight, "I know the little blighter can be a tad annoying and he did set you on fire and ignore you for no real reason and he did-" he considered his own words for a moment. "Well, perhaps it was called for then." Anakron nodded.

[Formendacil]

As anyone in their position would, the two men turned around instinctively to see at whom Fíriel gestured...and Hyarmenwë drew a sharp gasp.

"Morliniel!"

"Who?" Maika stopped looking at the stranger, who appeared to be in her later thirties.

"My wife," explained Hyarmenwë. "She looks exactly like my wife."

"Well, that was easy," said Maika. "I guess we've found your daughter."

Hyarmenwë shook his head. "She's too old. My daughter wouldn't be quite twenty."

"Oh, Bobawen isn't as old as she looks," said Fíriel. "She's not been here for quite twenty years. She was Assigned as a baby. We assume it's because of her accelerated growth. She looks closer to forty than the actual twenty that she is."

Hyarmenwë looked a bit perplexed. He had always thought his daughter had been assigned for her name, nothing more. But there was no denying that this woman, this "Bobawen", was close kin to his dear Morliniel, bless her memory.

"Bobawen!" Fíriel called, as he mulled it all over, "come over here!"

But Bobawen had not quite reached the table when a loud POP rocked the tavern from outside. As everyone rushed to the doors to see what had happened, Elrogorn swaggered it, looking a little shaken. He was soaked from head to toe, and stank somewhat.

"What is all that?" Hyarmenwë asked.

"This?" said Elrogorn, casually flicking some of the water off the end of his arm, and wiping his hair back out his eyes in a most dashing manner. "Dirty bathwater. Those Wereducks are full of them."

Through the door, Hyarmenwë could see large pieces of yellow rubber scattered around the ground.

"I'm not so sure that was a Wereduck..." Aleksandur began, but Fíriel cut him off.

"Gondorians don't know anything about Wereducks, remember dear?"

"Well, it was a duck anyway, and it was threatening our lives," said Elrogorn nonchalantly. "And it's dead now. Now, good pubkeeper," he addressed the bar, "I'll have a pint of your finest brew."

Settling himself down at the table, Elrogorn took the pint from the pubkeeper and swiftly downed it in one long, manly, chug. Though the normal thing to do at that point would have been to let loose with a long, manly, belch, Elrogorn retained his dreamlike cool and did nothing of the sort.

Instead, he turned to Hyarmenwë, pointed at Bobawen (who had still not been properly introduced) and asked.

"Tell me, good sir, who is this stunning youngish lady?"