Dark Planet Day Challenge: Forumshire fanfic

Kafria wrote:...Rue watched as the newcomer released his grip on Freya’s head and stepped back, running his eye along the fire barrier and turning through all four quadrants, to ensure it was complete. He puffed his cheeks out, expelling a rush of air.

“Daft dragon, what were you thinking?”

...They sat like that for a while, the warrior reassuring the youngster, watching the never ending dance of the flames and the shadows they cast. The encircling fire wall began to die away, leaving a scored ring around the perimeter. The embers of the quadrants fires fell inwards, loosing clouds of sparks to float away into the lightening sky. The surrounding wood began to awake as birds called to one another and announced the arrival of a new day.

This story slowly wends it's way. It really does have a Celtic feel about it. It's also a bit Silmarillionith in a way, not that I can quite put my finger on it. Maybe it's the atmosphere you're creating.

This story slowly wends it's way.

It does seem to! Thanks for the comments and the time taken to read I am definately enjoying this, but I do find I write very slowly this way, I can not force myself on in this style, I have to wait for the moments to define themselves in my head and then the right words make themselves known. I find myself writing the dialogue straight out then going back to fill in the action and 'feel' of the conversations afterwards, can't seem to do both at once Not sure where it will take me at the mo, I have a 12 'scene' plan of which this story has puttered gently through four so far.

(Can't pin you down as to character yet either, (yes there is a plan for you to make an appearance!), I have two ideas, one of which I really like if I can figure how to make it work, so the story may have to meander a little longer as I ponder.


Petty - love the new section. The extractor and Odo/Orwell - it explains a lot, we may have to sneak back in and see if Taz really does have an extractor!

Pettytyrant101 wrote:...Ok as this is a bit late in arriving its a bit of a bumper installment. Hope you enjoy though- have a cuppa with it or a buckie or two.


...'Remarkable' Odo thought to himself as he entered the Dark Planet lobby for the second time, young Eldo had been right, if you walked in the front door they let you, 'Remarkable that Eldo could be right, and him just a whippersnapper too'.
“What I said I would do,” Taz replied, “I have extracted the rebellious side, the secret desires, what remains is self righteous, pious and will obey the rules. Indeed he will desire rules, order, respectability more than ever, free of his baser self.”
Amarie stepped closer, staring in disbelief at the two figures in the chamber who were staring equally disbelievingly at each other.
“Odo?” Amarie said slowly. The original Odo turned to look at her with a baffled but placid look on his face, she addressed the other version, “Odo?” She repeated, the new face turned to look at her, “No,” it said slowly as if coming to a realisation, then the face broke into a charming, seductive grin, “Hello there, I'm Orwell. You doing anything later?”

Sorry to be a party pooper, Petty, but that's so far fetched it's ridiculous!

As if there's anything base about me, Petty... Your story has lost any power it might have had to suspend disbelief...

Kafria wrote:This story slowly wends it's way.

It does seem to! Thanks for the comments and the time taken to read I am definately enjoying this, but I do find I write very slowly this way, I can not force myself on in this style, I have to wait for the moments to define themselves in my head and then the right words make themselves known. I find myself writing the dialogue straight out then going back to fill in the action and 'feel' of the conversations afterwards, can't seem to do both at once Not sure where it will take me at the mo, I have a 12 'scene' plan of which this story has puttered gently through four so far.

I guess writing the way you feel you want to write is really the only way to write. For better or worse, I feel that's the only way to find your voice. But then, what works for me might not work for everyone...

Kafria wrote:Petty - love the new section. The extractor and Odo/Orwell - it explains a lot, we may have to sneak back in and see if Taz really does have an extractor!

That is truly the stupidest thing you've ever said, Kafria.

Don't know what you are on about Orwell- its exactly as it happened- the buckie memory is never wrong- or is that never dull? Same thing.

I love this thread. I really don't recognize Taz in any way, but I do understand the point of view. And the Odo/Orwell thing makes PERFECT sense. Now what will happen? I can't guess where either Kafria or Petty are heading, and those are the best kind of stories!

Kafria wrote:(...)
Petty - love the new section. The extractor and Odo/Orwell - it explains a lot, we may have to sneak back in and see if Taz really does have an extractor!

The door is wide open, if you are brave enough.

Look, we know Petty is writing pure Fiction, but what about internal consistency, coherence and corrspondence to real things? You know, to give his creative conceit some semblance of seeming reality. On that score, turning Odo into me is purely absurd.

Of course, if Petty's idea is to write nonsense ala Lewis Carroll, rather than pen an exciting, and at times amusing, adventure story, well and good. But I really don't think he strives to do that. And so, ultimately, the idea of turning Odo into me fails - and dismally.

Sorry, Petty. But if you want to be a truly quality Tale Teller in Forumshire, you must try hard to remain reasonably believeable...

You must trust me in this Petty, for I am something of an authority on these things, as I am in most things, and with all humility.

The truth will out Orwell-- the truth will out!

Next installment!


A deep gasp of air hissed between Freya’s teeth, to accompany the roll of her shoulders and lift of her head. Rue made to rise, but the hand on her shoulder held her back. She glanced in surprise at Taranis, her brows framing her unspoken question. He raised his hand, palm down in response. She shrugged the restraining hand off and rose, taking a few steps towards her mother to get a better view. Freya closed her eyes and began to lift her hands to greet the breaking dawn.

“Light of the dawn returning, herald of each new beginning, leads the way,” she chanted.

As she finished the light of the rising sun cleared the hill top and its rays fell on the Howe. Shadows streaked the space, showing the position of stones long gone. A single ray illuminated the central fire, which sparked anew from its embers. Freya crouched once again and Rue tensed, the phantom smell of burning flesh seeming to hang in the air. Freya blew a jet of flame into the blaze, turning it to an inferno. Scrunching her eyes against the glare she reached a hand into the flames once more, startling a cry from Rue. She hurried forward, determined to stop her this time, only to find herself gathered up and lifted off the ground.

“Wait!” hissed Taranis in her ear, anxious not to break the trance.

Rue fought to pull air into her lungs as she watched, listening to her pulse thrumming through her ears, drowning out all other sound. Freya passed her hand through the blaze, shaping the dancing flames into momentary symbols, one following another rapidly. The centre of the pyre began to gain in intensity, brilliant white light bursting forth, which Freya encased within her two hands. Her scales glowed golden and scarlet as the light increased, until bones and blood were shadowed in the flesh. With a mighty crack the fire died, the remnants crumbing to dust and revealing Freya’s unspoiled hands, cupping an iridescent white stone.

“Pathstone,” Taranis murmured, his grip on Rue relaxing as he contemplated the gleaming pebble. Freya slumped forward, supporting herself on the backs of her hands and pulling in great lungful’s of air. Rue pushed through the encircling arms and hurried to her mother, dropping to the ground beside her.

“Mum? You okay?” she asked, searching for any sign of lasting harm. Freya turned to meet her gaze.

“Yes, a little tired,” she replied. Dropping her eyes to her hands, she gathered the small stone into the pocket of her tunic and began to look around, her face scrunching as she took in the state of the hollow, their guest and the daylight. “What happened? How long was I gone?” she asked, her voice rising in fear.

“You lit a beacon for everyone to see and then slipped across the gateway without setting haven, that’s what,” answered Taranis, stepping closer. Freya frowned, as she examined him closely.

“You,” she exclaimed rising to her feet and making towards him, “get away from here, leave us alone!” The long vigil had taken its toll and she stumbled, Rue leaping forward to steady her.

“Stop it mum! He helped me, he’s a friend.” She stared at her mother as the air between them hissed with unspoken assertions, “Now sit, you need a brew and some food.” Freya looked at her daughter for a long moment, before nodding her assent and allowing Rue to lead her to the edge of the hollow to sit down. As soon as she was settled Rue hurried off to the cart to collect what she needed for breakfast.

“What’s she not telling me?” Freya asked her face pinched as she turned her back on the preparations to face Taranis. He paused as Rue returned clutching a skin. Freya took it and pulled it tight about her shoulders, curling her legs around beside her. Rue rubbed what little warmth she could into the skin before returning to the cart and beginning to build a new fire. Freya waited to ensure she was engrossed in her task before she looked up expectantly.

“Your little show brought the wolves. She was trying to get the pony and cart in the Howe, nearly ended up as the entertainment,” he stated flatly.

Freya’s eyes grew wide as her imagination ran free, Rue terrified and yet trying to be defiant till the end. Her head shook in denial as she took a breath to steady her racing heart, lids closing on her unseeing eyes, talons piercing the skin, knuckles turning white. How could she have been so foolish? It had been Rue’s first sight of an invocation; she had yet to grow into her heritage. Shadowy memories mixed with the illusory visions and she pinned Taranis with a pointed stare.

“Haven, it was you. It was that close?”

He nodded and Freya felt herself crumble as a shudder ripped through her. She buried her head in her hands, talons scouring trails through her hair, as the truth of her naivety struck. Tremors ran along her limbs, animating the scales, as she perceived the near cost of her actions. Taranis watched silently, waiting for the fear to pass, until his eyes caught on the dancing scales. He came to crouch in front of her, reaching out to catch her hand. He turned it palm up, tracing the intertwining patterns of the scales.

“I thought the last of the fire dragons were wiped out twenty years ago,” he whispered.

“Petuaria,”Freya breathed, eyes drawn to his still moving fingers, fearful of meeting the pity and condemnation she dreaded to find painted plainly on his face. Taranis closed his eyes as long buried memories fought their way to the surface: a futile race towards a pillar of smoke rising high into a breathless sky, a desperate search of a defiled home and scolding fire turning to iced fury burning in his stomach.

“Petuaria,” he echoed, giving her arm a momentary squeeze before dropping his hand to stroke the grass, unspoken questions filling the space between them. Freya drew her shift around her legs tightly, fingers picking at a loose thread.

“I was there...after,” he told her. Too late his mind echoed.

“I’ve never been back.” Freya dropped her hand to the ground and began picking at the grass, lost in memory.

Rue arrived with some strips of meat and the drinking bowl. She placed the bowl on the ground and passed out the food, Taranis thanking her. She sank to the ground next to Freya, curling into her side and dropping her own food on her lap before passing the bowl to her mother.

“Here, drink something,” she insisted.

For long moments there was silence, broken only by soft murmurs as the bowl traversed between them while they worked on their meal. The sun steadily rose higher, reaching out warm fingers to caress chilled shoulders and gently lift faces skywards to watch the race of white tufts above. The rays washing over Freya’s scales coated her once more in pale pink, hiding her shimmering secret from view, relaxation allowing her talons to withdraw.

“So… your trustee?” Freya asked, raising an arm to embrace the child snuggled into her side, the only scales still visible were those inked into her skin.

“Aye, I tried to tell you,” Taranis answered, his lips curling at the corners, “You wouldnae listen, remember.”

Freya flushed, “I’ve been hiding a long time, learnt not to let my guard down, not unless I’m ready to move on,” she retorted, the warmth spreading up her cheeks as she shrugged. Rue chuckled, before a nip from the hand at her shoulder forced a yelp between her lips.

“I would have kept on at you,” he insisted, the morning light sparkling in his eyes. His own shoulders echoed Freya’s before he added, “But then in the morning you’d vanished.”

“No, we were still pitched in the valley, everyone else had gone,” Freya contradicted, head shaking to and fro. Taranis stiffened, his brow tensed as he puzzled at her words. Rue’s head dipped in assent as he looked to her for confirmation.

“Edjit!” he exclaimed, brow lifting as he rolled his eyes and sighed. “I should have known! They veiled us!”

“But, why… We’d split up, not argue if we thought we were alone.” Freya let out an appreciative whistle. “Clever,” she acknowledged with a dip of her head.

“Veiled?” Rue asked, sitting up and turning to face both adults. Taranis glanced at Freya, who nodded.

“Veils hide things from sight, people too,” he explained. “Here, come with me,” he added, seeing Rue’s doubtful gaze. He pushed to his feet and offered his hand. Pulling her to her feet he turned and led the way over the lip of the Howe, before turning to face her. “See!”

“See what?” Rue asked facing him, hands balanced on her hips.

“Veil,” he said as he leant forward and gently twisted her around to look back at the Howe.

Rue gazed in surprise, where she had sat snuggled in the warmth of her mother’s embrace there was no one. The Howe returned to its isolated vigil, a forgotten relic of a lost power.

“Mum!” she cried, running forward. As she crested the rise she was surrounded by a hushed drone and a prickle of fire ran over her skin. Even as she paused the sensation passed and she caught sight of Freya’s amused grin. She stopped short, looking back and forth across the Howe, until her mind caught up. An answering grin spilt across her face. “Oh!”

Wonderful stuff this Kafria. Got me totally engrossed.

Pettytyrant101 wrote:Wonderful stuff this Kafria. Got me totally engrossed.

Me too! Eagerly waiting for more.

Odo blinked behind his round glasses in the way someone might who has just got out of bed in the morning and opened their curtains only to find the world had been wiped out in a nuclear holocaust overnight whilst they slept, such was his feelings of disbelief and incredulity at Orwell, who was already smoozing Amarie right there in front of him, and he was not even doing it right, not ina respectable fashion at all, “So you are a Council Member here are you?” Orwell was saying whilst leaning towards Amarie in a most unrespectable way indeed, “that must be a terrible burden of responsibility, perhaps I can help ease that for you with a bottle of wine and a gentle neck massage.”
“There is nothing about this, person,” Odo finally managed, “that I recognize”.
“Oh be quiet you old windbag,” Orwell replied, “I am trying to talk to this delightful lady here.”
“Why I never!” Odo blustered outraged, “How rude! I would never be rude like that. Especially not in front of a member of the gentler sex. How can you be any part of me? You are so, unrespectable.”
“You are just upset because I am the better part of us,” Orwell smiled at him, a languorous smile, “you are just what is left over, a self righteous, fussy, respectable, boring old hobbit. Dull as ditch-water and containing considerably less life. I on the other hand am made for adventure, and fun, and the ladies. I am unbeatable. I am Orwell.”
“You are a pompous oaf is what you are!” Odo stormed.
“Seize them both” Taz ordered in his booming voice intervening in their squabble before it got out of hand. Four guards stepped from their place around the rooms cylindrical perimeter and seized Orwell, “Hey do you mind?” Orwell said indignantly, “I was trying to talk to the lady.” He was dragged off protesting and held. Odo went meekly feeling slightly dazed still by events.
“Now,” Taz said, “put the Scots girl in.”
Six guards, wearing thick specially made protective clothing come forward and with a great deal of trepidation began preparing to unlock Pretty from the frame.
“Ok Taz, lets see what you've got,” she purred and the guards began carefully to release her.

“We should have heard something by now,” Kafria said. She had a hammer in one hand and was whacking nails into the door frame in one of the new set of Holes in Needlehole in Eldo's promised land.
The sun was shining above them in a pale blue sky.
“Pretty can take care of herself,” Petty commented, his voice had an echo from it as he was half in, half out of his barrel. There was a curse and then a spray of water shot out of the barrel and a sodden, cursing Petty emerged, “Bloody jacuzzi,” he grumbled, “They just don't make them to be fitted in a barrel you know.” He popped open a bottle of buckie and took a swig.
“What about Odo?” Kafria asked, “Poor Primmy is beside herself with worry. I think someone should go back for them.”
“If any of us walk through their front door we'll set off the alarms,” Petty pointed out.
“I think I might have a way in,” Kafria said firmly.
“Then you could ask Eldo to send you I suppose,” Petty said.
“Where is he?” Kafria said looking round, now she came to think about it she had not seen their Admin all morning.
“He's building his tower, up there,” Petty said pointing up the steep rocky hillside the was piled above Needlehole and was wreathed in thick mist but the new tower, dark, looming was already reaching up out of the mists and into the bright afternoon sun.
“Are you coming?” Kafria asked Petty.
“No,” he replied and took another swig from his bottle.
“Fine,” Kafria said, “Squach, we're going to visit Eldo in his new tower.”

GB lent over Eldo's new oak desk at the top of his newly completed Tower of Lore, his hands palm down on the surface, “That is an unwarrrented waste of public money!”
Eldo sighed, “It will be good for moral,” he explained as patiently as he could muster, “and it will help to foster a sense of community by giving people a symbol to rally round.”
“Its a symbol of your ego,” GB countered sternly, “Free health care and education would be good for morale. I won't stand for it you know,” he fumed, “I'll start a leaflet campaign,” he added in warning.
There was a knock at the door, relieved for an interruption Eldo called “enter,” and Kafria and Squach came in.
“You haven't heard the last of this Eldo,” GB said waggling a finger in the Admin's face.
“What's going on?” Kafria asked immediately sensing the friction in the air.
“Our illustrious leader,” GB said with an exaggerated wave of his hand in Eldo's general direction, “not contend with building this monstrosity at the public expense to store Lore in we don't even have, now wants to spend even more of our tax money on a statue.”
“A statue?” Kafria queried raising an eyebrow, “a statue of what?”
“Himself!” GB exploded.
“Not just a statue,” Eldo protested, “there will be a park around it for everyone. And besides, it still has to pass the planning committee,” Eldo said tap-dancing like a politically inclined centipede on a hot plate.
“And who is on that?” GB demanded to now.
“Well,” Eldo said looking shifty, “what with us just setting up and the old government having collapsed after the attack it is a little short of current members.”
“Who is on the committee?” GB insisted.
“Well, at the moment, just me,” Eldo conceded, “but even if I pass it it still has to go to the budgeting committee.”
“And who is on it?”
“Well, what with current staffing shortages,” Eldo began again but GB cut him off with a wave of his hand, “Forget it, forget I asked,” GB said, “you will be hearing from me- by petition!” he said and left the office, slamming the door behind himself as he went.
“Well,” Eldo said recovering some of his decorum, “What can I do for you two.”
“Has Odo signalled yet?” Kafria asked.
“No, not a word,” Eldo said.
“Then something has gone wrong,” Kafria replied, “we have to go in after them.”
“We can't without setting off the alarms,” Eldo reminded her.
“I can,” Kafria said.
“You broke the rules same as every one else,” Eldo said, “and she certainly did,” he added nodding at Squach.
“Damn straight,” Squach replied defiantly, folding her arms.
“Squach! Language,” Kafria admonished sternly, “I can get back in,” she said to Eldo, “you just need to get me there,” Kafria replied.
“How can you get in?” Eldo asked curiously.
“I'd rather not talk about that,” Kafria evaded, “but can you get me there?”
“I can send you to their front door, same as I did Odo, but I haven't got the Lore I need to break you in anywhere else.”
“Then I'll go in the front,” Kafria said firmly.
“But you won't tell me how you can get past their security?”
“No.”
Eldo sighed, “We lost enough people already in the attack, no one has seen Halfwise, Petty thinks he was in the Duck and Muck went it got devoured. And Queen Tinuviel is missing, although there is hope she is safe in Valinor, but her ships captain doesn't know the way to our new harbour. Odo and Pretty are already on the Dark Planet with no word. If I keep sending people like this we will have no one left to pay the taxes.”
“So what are you saying?” Kafria asked, “that you won't let me go?”
“No, I am sorry, but I can't authorize it. Not without knowing what you are planning.”
“I can't tell you that.”
“Then I cant authorize it,” Eldo responded.
Kafria felt her tattoo itching, she could do it now, to Eldo. But no, she had promised herself to control it and using it against the Dark Planet that was one thing, using it here against Eldo was quite another. She took several deep breaths and felt Sqauch's hand taking hers and giving it a gentle squeeze. The sensation restored her equilibrium.
“Well, if that is your decision,” she said stiffly, “I bid you good-day.”

By the time Kafria had returned to Needlehole it was to find GB trying to impressive upon a reluctant Petty the evils of Eldo's new regime.
“A bloody statue Petty!” GB was saying, Petty was trying to not offend by nodding in response but it was clear he was really wanting to drink his buckie in peace and read his newspaper.
“How did you get on?” Petty asked Kafria as she approached, glad to have anything stop GB before he started demanding Petty sign anything, or worse, deliver leaflets.
“Not well,” Kafria replied with a dark look, “Eldo wouldn't authorize it. He won't send me there using Lore.”
“Well, you tried,” Petty said with a shrug.
“How can you be so casual, its your own sister stuck there,” Kafria said in frustrated tones.
“Pretty has always managed somehow,” Petty said simply and picked up his newspaper, “we'll just have to wait and see.”
Kafria fell silent, fuming to herself, feeling useless. Her eye glanced on the headline on the front of the Daily Purist Petty was reading, she noticed the date above it, it was today’s edition.
“Petty?” she said slowly, “where did you get that newspaper from? And come to think of it, where did all the buckie come form?”
“Had them delivered this morning,” Petty replied tearing himself away from the Hobbit Lass of the Day and her insightful political musings, “why?”
“So you can get me to the Dark Planet then, if you could hook back up with your old suppliers in Scotsdale you can get me anywhere,” Kafria said a sudden burst of agitated energy awaking in her, the promise of releasing herself, denied by Eldo was suddenly possible again, “you just need to get me a ship.”
“Well,” Petty said, “I suppose so. Never occurred to me, just needed to get the buckie flowing again and get a decent paper to read.”
“So do it, find the way to the Dark Planet and send me,” Kafria said forcibly.
“OK” Petty said, “I'll just finish this bottle and reading my paper first.”
“Do it NOW!” Kafria roared and her voice, whilst still feminine seemed to drop into a huskiness that was both quite sexy and also quite frightening. Also her eyes seemed to be glowing a pale green with touches of fiery yellow around the pupils.
“I'll just get on to that right now,” Petty hastily, hurriedly putting down his bottle and newspaper.
“I'm coming with you mum” Squach put in, tugging at her mums shirt to get her attention.
“Oh no you are not,” Kafria said turning round,”you will stay here and be a good girl for Petty and GB.”
“Petty is a drunk and GB is to busy saving the world to even notice me. I want to go with you mum,” Squach insisted.
“Its might be dangerous, and I will have to, you know,”Kafria explained.
“That's why I want to go,” Squach replied, “it'll happen to me one day, maybe soon. Whether you like it or not mum I am going to be a woman soon and when that happens it'll happen to me too, won't it? You said it would.”
Kafria looked into Squach's face. She was growing up, the face of her little girl was receding being replaced by the face of the women she would become, and though her voice sounded the same there was an adultness in its attitude, an adult understanding behind her words, “Yes it will,” Kafria said putting a gentle hand to her daughters face, “and I suppose you need to see what you are in for. Ok Squach, you can come. Petty, you set up?”
From inside his barrel Petty's muffled voice came “Ok, almost got it. Ok, head down to the docks, get the Scotsdale delivery ship 'McGoogle', the captain knows the way to the Dark Planet. He'll drop you off there.”
“He makes deliveries there?” Kafria asked surprised, pretty sure the Dark Planet would not have much use for buckie or scandalous tabloid journalism.
“No they chart it so they can avoid the bloody place,” Petty said, “But hurry, the ship sails with the net-tides. And good luck over there. Tell Pretty I am thinking of her, and how brilliant it is not having her about.”
“I am sure she will thrilled to hear your so cut up about it Petty,” Kafria said with a roll of her eyes, “Ok Squach, lets go have an adventure.”

I was wondering what 'Dark Planet' was....

A long sad, but heroic story Turembar, Dark Planet Day- Tolkien would have approved I feel.
I recommend giving the thread a thorough read, particularly Kafria's on going story whose next installment I am eagerly awaiting to devour. (Although my account is the only actual true account of what happend during those dark days)

Pettytyrant101 wrote:A long sad, but heroic story Turembar, Dark Planet Day- Tolkien would have approved I feel.
I recommend giving the thread a thorough read, particularly Kafria's on going story whose next installment I am eagerly awaiting to devour. (Although my account is the only actual true account of what happend during those dark days)

I'd protest wildly about the accuracy of the story, but I get to be a brave, clever and a bit Tardis-ish so I am a bit torn. (I admit when this thread started I was expecting to be decapitated for war crimes, or something like that, in all of them, so so far I am relieved. )

The Dark Planet is planet-tolkien.com btw. We're not so bad once you get to know us.

I think you will find with respect Amarie that my account is indeed absolutely true- however there are times where some peoples memories may differ, on these occasions I use the NotP defence- it is not truth which is at fault but reality for letting everyone down by not being an exciting enough story. But through the prsim of narrative the deeper truth of what really happened emerges.

"Tardis-ish" Amarie? I thought you sounded Tartish... Leading that poor innocent dashing handsome not-at-all-pompous Orwell on and all...

I love the latest update, Petty! I'm afraid that I must take issue with my characterization, however. Your memories must have been tinted by buckie.

Amarië wrote:I'd protest wildly about the accuracy of the story, but I get to be a brave, clever and a bit Tardis-ish so I am a bit torn. (I admit when this thread started I was expecting to be decapitated for war crimes, or something like that, in all of them, so so far I am relieved. )

You were one of the most helpful and understanding people on PT right from the beginning, so I can't say that I am at all surprised by your characterization here.

Oh, I just thought being the on-site reperesentative of the evil regime that ate you might mean I'd get a little bit of pepper. (Heh! Two seconds after I wrote that I remembered Kafria and Squach's rockets! Go Science!! ...And FICTION!! And BOTH!!)

Eldo my portrayal of you is backed up by the records- anyone can go to Needlehole Park and see the statue you put up, or look at the back-issues of NotP to see the uproar over your decision- I'm afraid the evidence is against you (although I admit the evidence is mainly in Pure Publications- but evidence non the less!)