Dark Planet Day Challenge: Forumshire fanfic

I remember the statue I have no doubt that everything Petty says about Forumshire is accurate. I wasn't here at the time, but I have read the newspapers.
As the newspaper hoarding ambassador that I am.

The NotP and DP are of course excellent records of the history of Forumshire, what with Pure Publications priding itself on always getting to the real truth of the matter.
Although for a Dark PLanet Ambassador I do wonder what you do with all the newpapers you hoard Amarie?

Very good question, Petty! I am certain I have a DI Eldo and Sgt Ringo fan wall with articles and such. But what might I do with the rest?

Perhaps I read them, the dive through them and trow them in the air and let then rain down over me, a bit like a lunatic Scrooge McDuck? If this si true then Forumshire Amarie is immune to papercuts. Superpower FTW!

Perhaps DP-cat needs them for his litter box?

Rumours has it that I edit the bejeezus out of them untill they are safe and family friendly, before sending them home to DP. And this is the reason why I ship out loads of blank paper. Don't know where those rumours can come from, I am sure I used the best encrypti.. Oh look, is that an eagle?

I edit the bejeezus out of them untill they are safe and family friendly- Amarie

That must leave a very small newspaper! Does Bear Muirdock know you are reselling his paper to the Dark Planet?

Pettytyrant101 wrote:I edit the bejeezus out of them untill they are safe and family friendly- Amarie

That must leave a very small newspaper! Does Bear Muirdock know you are reselling his paper to the Dark Planet?

I'd like to see him recognize it... Even the Buckie stains are gone. Well they would have been if it was true. Which it isn't.

Oh dear! You have confused my buckied brain with your damned woman's thinking Amarie! Now I don't know what's supposed to be true and what is not? Again!

I just told you the truth, Petty dear. Here, have a buckie! Forget about the newspapers, it's noooothing you need to worry about.

Kafria stepped into the entrance hall of the Dark Planet. Squach was just behind her, feeling nervous. Not at being back here, although she was none to thrilled about that, but more at knowing her mum had come here to act. Squach was going to get a demonstration of powers that would one day be hers, if she mastered them as her mother had. But that also scared her which was why she was nervous. And the reason it scared it was that it scared mum. Whenever mum spoke about it, or more commonly just hinted about that side to herself the fear, which her Mother could never quite completely hide, was always there.
Kafria strode confidently up to the desk and smiled sweetly at the even more sickly sweet Brad behind the desk.
“One moment please,” Brad grinned to them and pressed something on his desk and stared into his palantir screen. The light emanated from the eyes of the picture of Taz on the wall, immediately red lights flashed on Brads desk, illuminating his face and an alarm sounded.
Kafria placed both her hands, palm down on the desk in front of Brad. Her eyes turned yellow, tinged with tiny red flames, the pupil became a slit that focused narrowly onto Brad. Talons ripped and stretched from her fingers, the claws digging lines into the desks black smooth surface. Her voice deepened, “Switch off the alarms,” she commanded.
Brad could not break the stare of her eyes, her hypnotic, yellow eyes. Her voice seemed muffled and distant yet he understood her clearly and could not resist obeying. He flicked the alarm back off, the lighting returned to normal.
“We are not the hobbits you are looking for,” Kafria growled at him.
“You're not the hobbits we are looking for,” Brad said and managed a weak slightly confused half smile at them.
“We can go right in,” Kafria said.
“You can go right in,” Brad parroted with a press of a button and flourish of his hand.
Kafria relaxed. Her eyes dimmed, the yellow faded to white, the pupil stretched back out into a sphere, the talons receded and she let out a low breath.
“Will I be able to do that?” Squach asked amazed and thinking of all the people she would like to try it on beginning with her gym teacher and Suzy Hamilton at school who thought she was soo cool.
“It only works on weak minds,” Kafria replied, “It won't work on your teachers if that is what you were thinking,” she added but then considered her own staff room at work and changed her mind, though she said nothing. Instead she nodded at Brad and taking Squach by the hand led her into the Dark Planet.


The walls in the Tower of Extraction ceased their spinning, they began to slow, the humming which had reached a crescendo now unleashed- magic arced through the air and earthed upon Pretty in the rooms centre. It roared in fury around her, over her, in her. Sought to tear her part, to rip the worst of her from the best. To split the wheat from the chaff. To break her into two, one of darkness and violence the other sweetness and light. It found this was a bit of a problem, which was why everything then exploded.
The force of the explosion shot up through the tower, rose rushing through the air and blasted the roof clean off. It blasted the whole top asunder in a flash of light and a thunderous rush of downwards wind that flattened everyone below. Masonry rained down, crashing in huge chunks into the floor.
Taz's Extractor machine began to whine, the sound increased in pitch and then it too exploded in a deadly conflagration.
When the air and smoke had cleared Pretty was still there, and she was alone in the circle. Emergency lighting flickered on, red and subdued. The forcefield around her was down and she leapt out, the guards, many of whom had been blown to the ground by the explosions did not stand a chance as she whirled round the room planting a well placed heel here and a raked face or two there amid many a solid punch. Soon all the guards in the Tower were lying either dead, unconscious or too pained to move (or for the more smart ones pretending they were too pained to move) and Pretty was standing panting in the centre with fire in her eyes looking for more people to hurt.
Amarie looked on amazed, she glanced up at Taz whose face betrayed shock and yes, even a trace of fear.
Pretty ran towards the holographic Taz and despite only being a projection Taz backed instinctively away. “I don't understand,” he managed, “How?”
Pretty smiled sweetly at him and put her hands on her hips, “Haven't you heard sweetie,” she purred cocking her head slightly, “I'm Pretty Tyrant. And I'm bad to the core.” Then with the speed of a striking snake she flicked off one of her heels and threw it with unerring accuracy. It passed straight through the image of Taz's forehead, right between the eyes and struck, heel first, the projector on the wall behind. There was a fizzing sound and then the image of Taz flickered and faded with a squeal. Alarms began ringing throughout the building, “That's our cue to leave,” Pretty said and grabbed Amarie and Odo.
“What about him?” Amarie said pointing to Orwell.
“We may as well bring him with us,” Pretty said.


Kafria made her way back to the street with the fake pub on it, as it was at least somewhere she knew. The streets leading up to it were deserted as usual and dark and they never passed another soul, but as they approached the false pub they heard voices. One was female, soft and graceful, it sounded like soft music in the ear. The other was deeper and male and spoke less often yet was no less musical. Every so often there was a whoosh sound followed by a solid thwacking sound, a crackle of magic and a series of unpleasant pained moans and groans and thumps. As they neared the corner of he street the male voice said, “What about the driver?” to which the female voice replied with a strong hint of exasperation, “For this shot? Really? Don't you listen to a thing I tell you? Give me the 4 iron.”
As Kafria and Squach rounded the corner they were met with an astonishing sight. A tall graceful female elf stood there, she had impressive long flowing hair, dark as night flecked with starlight. She wore a long graceful purple dress, or it would have been long and graceful had she not bunched it up about her knees and tucked into her long socks, which had a diamond pattern on them. Her face was ageless and beautiful, although the effect was slightly spoiled by it being screwed up in concentration as she was also mid swing with a golf club.
Beside her stood a tall handsome man carrying a bag of golf clubs with ease over one muscle bound shoulder and staring with focused determination at a scorecard in his hand, a pencil was poised in the other. His tongue was poking out the corner of his mouth in testimony to his concentration.
There was also a pile of bodies strewn about the street at various distances from the couple. As Kafria and Squach looked on the golf club connected with a guard, there was a flash of magic and the guard flew backwards some ten or fifteen feet and smashed into a wall. The man with great care and solemnity wrote a number on the scorecard.
Just then another guard came leaping out of the dark of an alleyway and charged. The female elf turned towards him and sang a line of elvish song so beautiful Kafria found she was suddenly fighting back tears. But the effect on the guard was different, he seemed to have slowed as if he was running in treacle. Unhurried the elf turned to the man and said, “Steel cap. This is a driver shot my dear.”
The man dutifully pulled a driver from the bag, it looked like a toothpick in his immense hands, and handed it to the elf who removed its cloth cover and gave the wooden head a small kiss and an elvish blessing. She turned back towards the slow motion guard, planted her feet, adjusted her weight and her stance by wiggling her hips as she eyed up her opponent, firmed up her grip on her club and then she sang again. And this time it was like a cool pleasing and brief shower that falls on a hot summers day and the guard popped as if he had broken an invisible barrier back into normal motion and speed. Just in time to meet the driver coming the other way being swung with great force and even greater precision.
The guard flew upwards and backwards, he sailed right across the street in a flash of magic and slapped into the far wall and slid down it and straight into a rubbish skip that was sitting there, he disappeared into its smelly depths.
“Good shot! Hole in one!” the man said and with all the skill of the near illiterate marked it down on the scorecard.
Kafria coughed and stepped forward into the light of the street. She could guess who these two were although she had not had much contact with royalty since she and Squach had arrived. But there could be no mistaking the beauty and the voice and especially the hair, Kafria momentarily wondered if she should ask what shampoo the elf used, this was Queen Tinuviel and therefore the man of gleaming muscles must be Beren.
“Kafria!” Queen Tinuviel said, being a Queen she automatically knew all her subjects on first name terms, it was probably some elvish magic thing Kafria mused. Kafria did not mind elves, but they did bother her on the level of her scientific principles. It was very infuriating to spend years understanding weight, placement, the compacting of compounds and compression, the effects of heat and cold on liquids and solids, only to then have 14 stone of elf run along the top of some loose snow without leaving so much as a footprint behind. It was enough to make you want to throw in your microscope. It was if all the rules everyone else, all the mortals had to abide by and try to understand, elves treated as some sort of optional extras in life.
“Your Majesty” Kafria said, not sure if she was supposed to curtsey, it was not something she was naturally inclined to do but somehow when confronted with the real thing her legs seemed to suddenly give all hope of republicanism up and had thrown in their lot as full blown monarchists, they were trying to curtsey but out of her control so she ended up bobbing uncertainly instead.
Squach watched her with an amused smile.
“Oh call me Tin,” the Queen said knowing full well Kafria would not.
“How did you get here?” Kafria asked.
“One moment,” Tinuviel said raising a slender pale hand. Two more guards had appeared, they were more cautious than their predecessors, probably slowed by all the bodies they were having to step over on the way up the street. Tinuviel gave them a burst of song and flicked her hair at them and they fell into a sleep and collapsed to the ground, ”Now we can talk in peace for a moment,” she said.
“What do I put them down as?” Beren growled looking up from the score card, “I mean, you didn’t use the club so is that a foul stroke?”
Tinuviel sighed, “We've stopped playing now dear,” she said and patted Beren on the shoulder. She turned back to Kafria, “Now you were asking me how I got here. That was simple enough I came by my ship as usual from Valinor, but when I got off it was here. I thought there had been some sort of mix up then I learned that these ghastly people had taken us over. Well as Queen I was not standing for that sort of thing,” Tinuviel said hotly and with real fire in her voice.
“Well, no of course not,” Kafria agreed.
“And then these guards thought they could go around arresting me when I tried to order some buckie in what appeared to be a drinking establishment. As if I was some sort of common criminal. Still its been good swing practise. I have a big contest coming up, Feanor thinks he can beat me this year. Fat chance, he always gets distracted halfway through the round by sunbeams, or the pattern on a flower or some other silliness,” she paused, spun on the spot and swung her club just as one of the guards woke up. He was not awake for long, “One has to always concentrate I tell him, no good coming back to the clubhouse claiming to have found a way to capture the essence of the sea from a grain of sand in the bunker trapped in a rare jewel if you are 6 over.” Tinuviel said, “that was 1 by the way dear,” she added to Beren and nodded at the downed guard. She turned back to Kafria, “So what are you and your lovely daughter doing here?” she asked.
“Well Eldo, I mean Eldorion has set up a new land for us, away from this awful place. I have a ship waiting to take us there,” Kafria explained.
“Us?” Tinuviel said arching a delicate eyebrow, “You did not know we would be here so else do you mean?”
“Odo is here, and Pretty, the rest that could be found are in the new land with Eldo. Odo came back to get Pretty and to recover our Lore. They stole it in the attack,” Kafria explained hurriedly.
“And you are here to rescue the rescue party?” Tinuviel asked.
“Yes, I suppose I am your Majesty. But the problem is I have no idea where they might be.”
Just then there was an almighty but distant explosion. A searing light, a cloud of fiery oblivion rose up into the air about a mile distant between the buildings. A moment later the ground trembled and shook.
“But I think I might know now,” Kafria said staring at the distant calamity.
“They must be in terrible danger,” Tinuviel said distress in her noble voice, “We must help,” she turned back to Kafria and Squach and a thought seemed to occur to her, “Just you and your young daughter?” she said and stepped closer to Kafria. She put a tender hand against Kafria's cheek, “there is more to this,” she said softly and her hand traced down the line of Kafria's neck to her tattoo. The ink of the dragon tattoo reacted to the elves touch, it writhed and coiled and Tinuviel spoke softly, at first in elvish words, then in elvish song then just in thoughts alone which formed pictures in the mind. And the tattoo was calmed and became gentle in its movements beneath her fingers. Tinuviel glanced from Kafria to Squach then back to Kafria, “She is about the age is she not?”
Kafria looked into the Queens dark timeless eyes. She knew. She knew all about it. “Yes,” Kafria replied simply.
“Somewhere she can get a full display,” Tinuviel nodded, talking almost as if to herself, “the power, and the terror.”
“Exactly, then you understand why..” Kafria said.
“Why this is a private matter, between a mother and her daughter? Yes, of course. I am sorry to have intruded this much. Go Kafria with the blessings of Valinor and rescue our friends. Beren and I will remain here and keep the exit open for you. I may even improve my handicap.”
Kafria nodded, feeling no more words needed be said. They clearly understood on another. Kafria took Squach by the hand, “Come on,” she said, “time we were flying.”


Most of the Tower of Extraction was on fire now, the rest was crumbling. The small group of Odo, Orwell and Amarie, led by Pretty stumbled out of the front doors which were hanging half off. Alarms were ringing, shapes zipped about in the air above them, spotlights flickered over them. They ducked back into the cover of the doorway and its crumbling walls.
“We're not getting out that way,” Pretty commented.
“We cannot go yet anyway,” Odo protested.
“Why not?” Amarie asked.
“We came to get the Lore back as well as Pretty. Young Eldo was most intent on it,” he pointed out.
“And you want to be brave and go get it?” Pretty asked amazed.
“No, but we've come this far and I believe its being kept just over there,” Odo pointed to the adjacent tower, which was the largest. It had the words Admin emblazoned on it, “Our Admin always kept all our Lore- so I suspect that is where we will find it.”
“That is Taz's tower,” Amarie said in a low voice, “and I don't mean some projection of him- the real deal. He is in there. There is no way you can do it. One does not simply walk into Admin. Its entrances are guarded by more than just, guards.”
“Well like my other half says,” Orwell said delighting in the pained look on Odo's face, “we've come this far. I say we give it a try. Impossible or not.”
“I am not your other half,” Odo protested, put out.
“Then where did I come from?” Orwell countered.
“I have no idea. But it most certainly was not from me,” Odo replied certainty radiating out from him.
“Ok then, let me ask you this. What do you think of spending an evening in the pub drinking buckie and duckie with gay abandon and singing songs with questionable lyrics?”
“I would say it was not the sort of respectable activity one should engage in. A person could find a more useful outlet in life, like helping the sixth form girls through their callisthenics classes, or inventing a new flavour of jelly.”
“Exactly!” Orwell exclaimed, “but not so long ago, you Odo Banks, were going to the Duck and Muck and singing bawdy songs with Petty and Wisey. Now you can't conceive of even doing it because its all being extracted. Its all in me. I do want to sit up all night drinking in mixed company, singing songs,” he sidled towards Amarie and smiled at her, “partaking of those both fairer and curvier than myself. I'm all the bits of you that used to do those things, think those thoughts. You can no longer act with gay abandon, you're a stuffy middle class businessman now, but I still can.”
“I can assure you my gayness was never abandoned,” Odo said flustered but trying to rally, “And the sort of thoughts you seem to embody I swear upon Illuvator I have never had, and nor would I want to.”
“Is this really the time for you to to be having an esoteric discussion?” Pretty asked, “in case you haven't noticed we have two choices here- a near suicidal run into the open in order to escape or a probably definitely suicidal attempt to get into the Admin Tower for our Lore. Shall we toss a coin?”
“I vote for the Admin tower,” Odo said raising his hand, “Its closer.”
“I'm with me,” Orwell said and Odo bristled.
“Amarie?” Pretty asked.
“I think its crazy which either way we go so how about a third option?” Amarie suggested.
“I'm listening,” Pretty said peering out from their cover, “but you better make it fast we will have company soon.”
“I am still a Council Member. Let me go to the Admin Tower alone, I can get them to open the doors.”
“Sounds like a good plan to me,” Odo said keenly nodding, “off you go then.”
“Wait a minute,” Pretty said, “No one is going anywhere yet. What if they've been told you are a traitor? All you will get is captured.”
“Then you will still be no worse off than you are now,” Amarie pointed out.
“Good point,” Odo put in, “We'll be waiting here. Give us a wave if you succeed. We will see from here if you don't,” he added.
“You really think its worth the risk?” Pretty asked.
“Given the choices, yes,” Amarie said.
“OK,” Pretty sighed, “if you are going to do it best do it now.”
Amarie said, “Wish me luck,” and exited from the building.
Almost immediately a dozen spotlights focused on her, scanned her. She held up a card and all the lights snapped off at once. “Council Member Amarie recognised,” a stiff voice called out from the blackness and haze.
Amarie rounded up the nearest soldiers to her, “You men clear this area, get everyone back. This whole tower could come down at any moment. I want no one left in the vicinity. Get everyone back.”
Pretty peered out from the ruined tower, watching Amarie, “Good,” she commented, “she's moving all the guards away. Now she is heading over to Admin”
“Let me see,” Odo said nudging his way in beside Pretty at the ruined wall and looking out, “Oh I see her. Brave girl. She's got to the doors now.”
Orwell leaned over the top of Odo, trying to see round Odo's tall head, “Hey she's got them to open the doors for her. She is going in,” Orwell commentated.
“Now the guards are talking to her,” Odo pointed out,” And yes, now they are beating her over the head with, are those truncheons would you say Orwell?”
“Yes, I'd say those were truncheons,” Orwell remarked.
“And there go the doors shutting,” Odo said with a sigh.
“So much for that plan,” Pretty said, “Add 'Rescue Amarie' to our to do list.”

Kafria led Squach along yet another empty street. They had not taken a straight route towards the explosion but had zigzagged through the dark streets to avoid patrolling guards.
“Mum!” Squach whined, trailing behind,”its miles away. You'll take forever to get there going like this.”
“We are not going to walk Squach,” Kafria replied, she glanced up into the black sky between the tall buildings. It was going to be a tight squeeze if she had to go between them.
“Then how are we going to get there?” Squach demanded to know.
Overhead a Searcher buzzed by, “The same way the bad guys do. In the air,” she turned to her daughter, “Are you ready for a first hand demonstrations in the principles of flight? Its time.”


Amarie opened her eyes. Taz was standing over her. “How's the head?” he asked simply.
“Fine,” she replied.
“I should hope so,” Taz replied with a wolfish grin and held up a truncheon, “they are made of foam. Got them from a novelty site we ate a while back.”
“Very convincing,” she said sitting up.
“So why have they not run for home yet?” Taz demanded, his voice suddenly changing from jovial to a strong hint of threat.
Amarie noted the change and addressed him with an equally serious tone, “They want their Lore back. And they are coming here to get it.”
Taz's face contorted into a furious snarl , “NO ONE gets their Lore back!” he roared, “Not ever! No One! It is mine!”
“That will not stop them coming to try and take it,” Amarie responded levelly.
“Then what do you suggest we do?” Taz asked and sat next to Amarie and put a firm hand on her shoulder.
“I suggest we let them take it,” she said.
“What?” Taz responded going immediately back to anger.
“Let them take it,” Amarie insisted,” And when they have it they will run back home with it. And then we will know where home is and when you take their new land from them you will get all the Lore back and you will have them all forever.”
Taz hesitated,”And you have that much trust in this homing magic of yours?”
“The one who bears it does not even know they do so. They will run and we will be led right behind them. Right to their front doorstep. And then what a fresh feast you will have my Lord.”
“I remember now,” Taz said running a hand over Amarie's hair, “why I made you a Council Member.”

Now that was worth the wait!

Thanks Amarie- hopefully not be such a long wait till the next part.

I loved it! With all these twists and turns I had to re-read the last few updates to remember where I was but I got sucked right back in. I can't wait for more, whenever you have the chance.

Just making sure everyones awake at the back Eldo! (Glad you're keeping up with it)

I try to make a special point of keeping current on this thread even when I'm not posting as much. Hopefully the Table of Contents is the OP is current as well; I updated it again today.

Mirabella sat with Primula on a grassy bank that overlooked the harbour. A ship was drawing in towards it from the open sea. Gulls were whirling over its masts, circling on the currents. A strong but warm breeze was blowing in over the land, bending the rough grass around them and making Mirabella's hair, which she had loosed from her Sheriffs helmet, stream out behind her.
“I do so miss your Uncle, Mirabella,” Primmy was saying, tears were in her eyes and a crack in her voice, “I miss polishing his big, tall head, and those little round glasses of his and how he rubs them when he is nervous, or excited. And he can't take care of himself, he misses his jelly and he can get quite touchy without it regularly and properly applied. And I just can't shake the feeling something terrible has happened to him.”
“Pretty is there too,” Mirabella said, not really sure if this was reassuring or not, but she figured it was certainly better to have Pretty on your side than against you, so it must count for something. She looked out over the harbour, the ship was drawing into it. It flew the Buckie flag of the Scotsdale sailors so she ignored it. The ship tied up amidst shouts, cries and guttural swearing and then a gangplank came down and a man in a kilt stalked down it. He looked about, spotted the two of them sitting on the hillside and came directly towards them. Mirabella and Primmy stood as he approached across the rough grassy slope.
“Goatamissigefiryi” the man growled in a burst of unintelligible Scots sounds with words, if that is what they were, that all seemed to run together.
“Pardon?” Mirabella said.
“Goatamissigfiryi” the man fired off again but fiercer, which if anything made it even less clear. He thrust a folded piece of parchment at them, “Amissige, frey yon elves. Amissige, feryi. Ken?”
Light dawned on Mirabella and she took the parchment saying, “Oh a message for me. From the elves. Thank you. But who is Ken?”
The man shook his head and muttered something then turned and began the walk back to his ship.
“What do the elves want to send us a message for?” Mirabella asked opening up the letter. Her eyes darted over the contents, “Oh no,” she said, “it's from Queen Tinuviel's ship, she is stranded on the Dark Planet.”

Kafria kicked open the door of the fire escape, satisfyingly splintering the signs telling her not to. The door swung open onto the roof top and she and Squach exited the stairwell. A strong breeze was blowing up here. Above her the dome of the sky arched but there were no stars in it, it was a dulled black, uniform and bland. Nearby the tops of other buildings sprouted in the gloom but in the distance, still burning brightly was the fiery explosion they had seen from the street below. There were three towers in the distance, one of them had half collapsed and it was this building which was on fire, the other two seemed intact with the central one being the tallest of the two still standing. There was a hub of activity around the towers, Searchers filled the air, their spotlights flickering over the ruin. Tiny dark figures scurried everywhere.
Squach run to the buildings edge and peered over, Kafria fought an urge to go pull her back.
“Woooah,” Squach said in a long low breath looking down the many stories to the dim and distant streets below. No wonder it had seemed so endless climbing the stairs.
Kafria tried to concentrate on her likely flight path, to analyse, but there was a clock ticking down in her head, every step she took was a step closer to something she had been dreading for many years, something which terrified her yet she knew she would have to do. Tick went the clock in her head. If she could do it at all she thought. Tock.
She turned to Squach, “OK, time I changed. Go over to the far side of the roof, I am going to take up a lot more room when this is finished.” Another step closer to the dreaded moment. Another Tick on her internal clock.
Squach, her eyes shining with anticipation and excitement scurried off to the far side off the roof and watched. She knew about the dragon side- her mother had explained that much to her when she was only five, and at seven she had seen her mother transform for the first time, and not just her mother, several of her aunts, uncles and cousins too. She had been enthralled not afraid, they had seemed so graceful, for all the power and the pointy teeth and the tearing talons it was the grace of them in the air, the majesty of the streams of flame lighting up the night sky that she remembered most. But she had never found out what it was about it which her mother so clearly feared. And she so obviously feared it more than ever tonight which made Squach all the more excited and also more fearful, not for herself but for her mother. What was going to happen tonight?
Her thoughts were interrupted by a roaring. Kafria had thrown her head back, the tattoo, the dragon tattoo that peered over one shoulder and ran the length of Kafria's body was uncoiling and growing, soon it seemed to cover all her skin then it became her body and filled out and out until a full sized dragon, emerald green but with a neck frill of fiery red stood resplendent on the roof before Squach. Her wings hung over the buildings edges, her taloned claws scraped at the roof top. Squach stepped closer and the dragon that was her mother threw back her head, the flame coloured neck frill expanded and stood upright like a huge ruff around her neck and a stream of melting hot fire erupted from Kafria's mouth and into the dark sky in challenge.
She turned her immense head and yellow flame tinged eyes on Squach and said, “Well? How do I look?” in an oddly deep, rumbling tone.
“Um,” Squach managed. Up here, squeezed onto this rooftop her mother seemed bigger and fiercer than she ever had before, “Impressive,” she added.
“Good, hopefully it will impressive the enemy too, “ she looked at Squach, at her daughter, thought of what was coming and wondered if she really could do this. Tick. “Get on my back,” she instructed Squach. Tock.


Han Solo was in trouble this time. Stormtroopers had closed in on him on all sides save one. There was a gap between the paper weight and the ledger, but into it Boba Fett landed, soaring down onto the desk top in a roar of jets-there was a knock at the door- Eldo stopped making a jet-pack noise and cleared his throat, he hurriedly tipped his Star Wars figures into his desk drawer. The knock came again louder this time.
“Enter,” Eldo called. The door opened and Mirabella came in, close behind her was Petty, GB, and Primula. “What is this?” Eldo asked.
Everyone filed in before his desk, Mirabella seemed to be the spokesperson, Petty stood beside her looking unhappy, GB was on Mirabella's other side and Primula was at the back.
“Queen Tinuviel is on the Dark Planet,” Mirabella said simply and handed Eldo the parchment. He read it thoughtfully whilst she continued to speak, “That is the Queen, Pretty, Odo, Amarie, Kafria and Squach” she went on, “We can't keep doing nothing Eldo. As Sheriff I am responsible for the well being of the members of this Community. At this rate we won't have any Community left for me to protect. We have to act.”
Eldo rubbed his forehead, “But we cannot just keep sending people there never to hear from them again Sheriff,” he responded. All he had wanted was to set up somewhere quiet and nice where the community could exist and pay their taxes and not notice he was building himself a lavish beach-house with their money. Was that to much to ask really?
“So you would just abandon Uncle Odo to that place?” Mirabella demanded and Primmy burst into tears behind her, GB comforted her adding to Eldo, “Its time to listen to the voice of the People.”
“Oh aye, and Pretty, got to rescue her too,” Petty suddenly put in in a manner that Eldo suspected was queued.
“I thought you said Pretty could take her of herself Petty?” Eldo asked, turning to Petty, who looked uncomfortable and as if he had something else on his mind.
“Well she is family,” Petty shrugged, “Cannae just leave her to rot.”
Eldo raised an eyebrow at this but turned away and paced behind his desk thinking. “How do you propose we get in? Any one of us will set of the alarms.”
“Let them go off,” Mirabella said, “this is a smash and grab raid- we go in we get our people..”
“And our Lore,” Eldo put in, “if we decide to do this we must not forget that.”
“OK, we get our people and our Lore and we get the hell back out.”
Eldo looked incredulous, “And you think that will actually work?”
“Does it matter Eldo?” Petty asked but in a voice that hinted at someone trying to remember a line Eldo thought, as a politician it was one of the first things you learned to spot, “Bottom line is,” Petty went on, “we'd rather go out trying than stay on here knowing we did nothing.”
“We are going to do this,” Mirabella said determinedly, “We aren't here to ask your permission.”
“Then what did you come here for?” Eldo asked.
“To ask you to come with us. Your Lore powers will be useful, you can help.”
“Come on Eldo,” Petty cajoled, “get out from behind the books . Come wi' us lad.”
Eldo looked the group over. They stood no chance. On the other hand his beach hut stood no chance without a healthy tax take and that needed residents. “What the hell,” he said “Let's do it.”
Petty turned his head towards Mirabella, “Happy?” he said in a hoarse whisper, “you can take your blade out from under my kilt now.” Mirabella smiled sweetly and withdrew the knife she had been holding against Petty's unmentionables since they had entered and he let out a long sigh.

Amarie poured herself a glass of water from the dispenser in Taz's quarters. It would be easy to imagine Taz would live in luxury, allowing himself what he forbids for others. But that could not be further from the truth, what was different about Taz and in the end more frightening, was not that he was a hypocrite but that he believed every word he said.
His rooms were sparse; a desk with an array of palantirs' suspended above it showing various parts of the Dark Planet, a simple wooden wardrobe with dresser and a plain bed. There was a bathroom off this main room and that was it. No decorations, no ornaments, no knick-knacks, not so much as a stray sock- there was nothing here that told you anything about its occupant save perhaps for a complete lack of imagination.
“If they go for the Lore, you with them,” Taz said from the chair at the desk at which he was sitting, “the Guardians of the Lore will not differentiate you from them. Perhaps it would be safer if they were to find you on the way out, in prison perhaps? They can rescue you. I can have the guards convincingly beat you.”
Amarie turned to face him, took a calm sip of water form the glass in her hand and smiled, “No, too obvious. Besides it would be more to our convenience if they think you believe I am still loyal. Have them captured, that should not be too hard. And I shall rescue them, that is much more convincing and useful to us.”
Taz stood and crossed the room to her, he took her free hand in his, “You are wonderfully deceitful,” he smiled.
“Yes,” she thought, “I am.”

Led by Eldo the remains of the Community stepped out onto the harbour. The Scotsdale ship was still in harbour. The wind had gotten up since Mirabella and Primmy had been sitting there and the waves were choppy now and white headed. As they approached there was a flash, as of lightening just off the shore, and a surfboard appeared with someone on it. It road the waves, flipped through a huge wave as it rolled towards the shore, disappeared momentarily from sight behind a wall of water and shot like a rocket out the other side. The surfboard and occupant rose up the beach on a collapsing wave. In one smooth movement the slight figure leapt from the board and it flipped end up and stuck perfectly in the sand. The young woman, as it now clearly was, strode casually up the beach, she wore shades and a broad grin.
“Ally!” Eldo called out, “Cool entrance.”
“Naturally,” Ally said flashing him a smile that caught the sun and glinted, “You took a bit of finding. What happened to the old place?”
“Long story,” Petty put in, “but its good to see you again.”
“We got taken over,” Mirabella said standing forward, “By the Dark Planet, they have Odo and Pretty and Kafria and Squach.”
“They've got Squach?” Ally said her eyes narrowing behind her shades, “Then what are we waiting on?”
“Hang on! Have you been to the Dark Planet before Ally?” Eldo asked urgently.
“No, I'm way to cool for there,” she replied with a nonchalant shrug.
“Then you are our way to get the front doors open with the element of surprise still on our side,” Eldo grinned.
“Heywhitsawyonrabble?” A thickly accented Scots voice demanded, it was the Captain of the ship, you could tell he was the Captain as he had four Buckie Caps attached to his lapel.
“I'd better handle this,” Petty said stepping forward.
“Wi'reneedinoanyirboat” Petty said.
“Gittae!” the Captain said waving a dismissive hand, “Wi'renaegoainnaewherewibirds, giesustheheebiesjistthinkinoanit” he said with a sour look.
“What's the problem Petty?” Eldo asked unable to make out a word of it.
“Its the women folk- they won't sail with them, they think its bad luck. But don't worry I know what to say,” Petty said.
“That is outrageous,” GB exploded, bristling at the offence, “that's pure sexist nonsense. Let me talk to him.”
GB strode up to the Captain and jabbed him in the chest, “Give me your name Captain. And I will give you mine and a lot more besides.”
“I really don't think this is a good idea GB,” Petty put in, but the Captain shoved him aside.
“A'd cutaffyirbeard, heidanawa', ifitwisnaejist floatinaffthegroond.”
“Hoadameenite,” Petty intervened, squeezing between them, “Hearusoot, Captain, anthenyi'llkentwihe'slosttheplot,” Petty pointed at GB,”Heswanawthem, politicaltypes,ken?”
The Captain reached for his sword at his belt.
“Naw, naw!” Peety said raising his hands before himself, “noaTory,thisyin'smairleftleaning thunTommySheridan'sdug.”
This garbled Scots seemed to satisfy the Captain somewhat and he took his hand from the hilt. Petty turned to GB, “How about you just stay quiet for a minute before you get us all killed. Let me handle this,” he turned back to the Captain, “Ho!Weewordinyereshelllikepal,” he said to the Captain in a tone that sounded like someone about to start a fight, but it seemed for once this was not the case, instead Petty walked over to the Captain and took him aside and spoke urgently and very rapidly in his ear. The Captain's eyes widened, Petty as well as talking at full speed was making a series of violent and increasingly unpleasant gestures with his hands. Eventually the Captain, his face ashen, nodded and went back on the ship.
“All sorted,” Petty said with a grin.
“What did you tell him?” Mirabella asked curiously.
“Oh I just pointed out that we were going to rescue my sister. Pretty's reputation tends to proceed her. I then pointed out some of the things she will do to the Captain, with illustrative gestures, if when we reach our destination he tells her she can't come aboard. And suddenly he didn't seem to have a problem any more with taking females aboard. Well come on then, lets go.”
They followed Petty up the gangplank which was taken up behind them, the ropes were untied the sails unfurled and the ship set sail for the Dark Planet under a glowering sky of amber.

Pretty peered out from behind a half collapsed wall. There was maybe twenty metres of open ground between here and the entrance to the Admin Tower. Maybe a dozen guards were in the vicinity of it. This was not going to be easy, she crept back to where Odo and Orwell were waiting, and as it turned out bickering.
“It's just because I have not had my jelly,” Odo was insisting.
“Oh yes I know all about your jelly, and the seed cakes,” Orwell replied with a mischievous grin.
“Ho, now!” Odo said clearly uncomfortable, he took a small cloth from a pocket and removed his glasses and cleaned them vigorously, “there is no need for that sort of talk.”
“What's the problem hear,” Pretty hissed at them.
“Its Odo, his lack of jelly he says is making his legs turn to, well jelly.”
“Look I need you two working together,” Pretty said, “or our very slim chances of getting the Lore and Amarie back will become no chance.”
“Does Amarie really need rescuing?” Odo asked raising a hand, “I mean this is her home after all.”
“Of course we are going to rescue the fair maiden,” Orwell said, “She should be the priority.”
“Oh and are you going to rush in and rescue her?” Odo asked arching an eye brow behind his glasses.
“Well,” Orwell stuttered, “obviously Pretty will be leading the assault, but I will be there, right behind her all the way.”
“How far behind her I wonder?” Odo queried.
“Are you slandering my character?” Orwell demanded raising his voice.
“Stop it you two!” Pretty demanded but they ignored her.
“What character?” Odo responded also standing and raising his voice, “you are just the junk left over from the good part of me.”
“Oh so now I am part of you am I?” Orwell challenged in a shout.
“Stop it!” Pretty insisted grabbing both of them. They were suddenly aware of a ring of guards all around them. Amarie stepped out from among them, she looked on them with disgust, “Pathetic,” she commented, “Take them to the tower cells. Careful of the girl. She's dangerous.”
“So am I,” Orwell said hopefully.


Tick.
Buildings flashed past beneath Kafria's wing as the pounded against the black air. Time was running out. The building they had launched from was a speck far behind, the towers loomed large close at hand. She could put it off no longer, if it was not now it would be never. The moment fast approached. Her fear, her feelings of nausea of horror at what she knew she was about to do were almost at a crisis point.
Tock.
She craned her head back, peering round at her daughter who was sitting between her huge wings, rising and falling on the rhythm of the muscles. There were protrusions of bone and horn there that through no coincidence were the perfect size and grips for a child. But there were no safety belts, no harnesses. Squach did not look afraid, rather she looked exhilarated, excited. Her hair flowed in the wind, she laughed as she rose up on the rising muscles and whooped as she descended back down. She looked in fact much as Kafria must have looked at her age upon her own mother's back.
Tick.
She understood now, fully for the first time ever what her own mother had gone through.
Tock.
What her own mother had felt at this moment.
Tick.
No guarantees.
Tock.
No certainties.
Tick.
All, or nothing.
Tock.
She closed her eyes, felt her stomach was a pit of blackness and her heart seemed to turn to stone within her breast. Something powerful and instinctive was taking over. Something from deep within the dragon part of her because it had to be from there, the human part was not capable of it. So it was time. Now or never. For a brief, fraction of a second she nearly choose never, but like her mother before her when the moment came she acted.
Tick
She spun in the air flipping herself completely upside down.
Tock.
Squach screamed. Surprise, horror and disbelief. Horribly Kafria could hear them all in that scream and strongest amongst them, betrayal.
Tick.
Squach fell. No not fell, plummeted.
Down, down between the buildings into the darkness, hurtling inescapably towards the solid streets below.
Tock.

I'm afraid my portrayal is still completely unrecognizable , but aside from that I love getting to read more of the story! Especially so soon!

Pettytyrant101 wrote:Light dawned on Mirabella and she took the parchment saying, “Oh a message for me. From the elves. Thank you. But who is Ken?”

I'm afraid my portrayal is still completely unrecognizable- Eldo

A politicians answer if ever I've heard one! Sarah Palin says the same about Game Changer I am sure.

Besides we have documented proof- I got this from the NotP palantir archives- you, Odo and guests frollocking at your beach-house (although in line with your tax policy you actualy ended up with a beach castle!) and its from the 5th edition so dated a long time ago.

[img][/img]

So deny all you wish Eldo!

I thought you had gone mental when Han Solo suddenly appeared!

(But Tazzy's complete lack of imagination?! You are so wrong, so wrong... if he only would finish his pet project 'Two Trees'. Siiiiigh....)

I like to try to suprise Amarie!

{{{And my Taz is a reflection of the sterility of his forum, and you got to admit that makes for a better bad guy}}}

{{{It is an interesting take on the typical bad guy dictator type, it fits really well with the Taz and the Planet in the story. But I got to defend the real Tazzy too. (And nag about mention TT) I'd defend Eldo's honor too if I didn't find the starwars stuff far too adorable!! And he is a nice contrast to evil-Taz.}}}

I dont understand any of this stuff, it was before my time.

That is rather the point of the Dark Planet Tales Mrs Figgs- to explain what happened to you newcomers- to tell you the true unvarnished truth about what happened as we remember it.

Amarië wrote:I'd defend Eldo's honor too if I didn't find the starwars stuff far too adorable!! And he is a nice contrast to evil-Taz.

I don't know whether to be or

...

Amarië wrote:(But Tazzy's complete lack of imagination?! You are so wrong, so wrong... if he only would finish his pet project 'Two Trees'. Siiiiigh....)

If only he hadn't gotten distracted devouring other forumlands he might have had more time to work on it. But then we wouldn't have gotten you, or leelee, or any of the Bree-landers. I'm reminded of the Gaffer in the Scouring of the Shire: all's well that ends better. 'Course, that puts Taz in the role of Saruman, but oh well.

{{{All in good fun! }}}

still got no clue, whats all this beach hut stuff? and Odo in the sea with chinese junks? did he go to Thailand again, is that a ladyboy in the water with him? its all getting rather disturbing.

The pic pertains to a Daily Purist you can find here Mrs Figgs
http://www.hobbitmovieforum.com/t96-the-daily-purist (5th edition down the page)
- shortly after the Dark Planet incident when Pure PUblications Catsat (yes I'm afraid that is a cat they filled with helium and strapped a palantir too) took the pictures of Eldo and Odo (I believe the ladyboy you refer to is in fact Eldo!) with some 'friends' having fun- my story refers to Eldo's desire to fleece the inhabitants of tax to build the place. Eldo was denying my account was genuine, so I brought out the palantir evidence to back it up- he has gone notably quiet on the subject since!