The prisoner

"Yeah!" George beamed. "Ain't I good?"

TB put his head in his hands as the sound of chatter rose outside, signalling to him that the lead caravan had probably entered the holding compound. Half an hour until the merchants and riders and guards would flood out into the streets, including Me'tha into his tent. He hoped it was enough time to straighten George and Lenny out.

-----

The darkness surrounding Rastilina's head was not the dark cowl of the craved oblivion of death. The hood she wore was not tight enough to cut off her breathing, and the hands at her back guided her firmly, not even allowing her the off-chance that she would trip and impale herself on something.

She sighed heavily, the air smelling of baked meats and spices, her ears filled with the shouting of merchants vying for attention - a market obviously. And she was with a nut of an elf who thought she had been transformed instead of transchroniated, and had kept going on about sceptres of power or some such nonsense. It was enough to make a girl depressed, if she weren't already suicidal.

And since he seemed sure that she had this information, they were sure not to kill her. First the torturing, trying to get her to cough up the information that she might have had, then transporting to check it, then more torture for the 'truth'; it was a vicious cycle that had no promise of ending except by some unforseen blessing like rampaging barbarians or hungry animals, or...why, any number of things that could happen far enough off the beaten track.

Rastilina smiled darkly inside the blackness of shadow her hood provided. So, they wanted to know where a sceptre might be, did they? Shame about such items of great magical power: always found in the most deathly of areas.

-----

Far away, the possesor of one of the thirteen sceptres paused and sneezed. "Huh," he muttered, idly stunning a fly with his tail. "Perhaps Da Man should call for something to warm him up. Like one the beautiful ladies. But which one? They all love Da Man." He sighed, pondering. "It's hard to be Da Man, sometime," he complained.

------

TB folded his fingers together and rested his hands on the desk. "So, Me'tha. So good to see you. Who's your friend?" TB asked pleasantly, smiling as the elf entered. Behind him, given a focus, George and Lenny managed to glower quite intimidatingly.

"She's our reason for journey. You might want to be ready for a shock, though. She's somewhat strange looking," Me'tha managed.

TB sat emotionless, but in the back of his head a number increased. Me'tha had been drinking. He could tell. That certainly raised the prices he could ask. "I'm already sitting down. Would you like to? Or perhaps a drink?"

Complaints

Up on the moon, the Princess grumbled as she gazed through her telescope. "Stop travelling already, and come out, Me'tha. Give me another view of your hunky body..."

Petualantly, the Moon Princess stood up from her telescope, and huffed across her room. Her huff slowed to a wade as she approached her stuffed animal collection, tossed all across the floor. A different kind of huffiness appeared by the time she flopped herself onto her bed.

"WAAAAHHH!!" she cried, tears flowing a river from her cheeks, "My hottie doesn't want to show himself! He roxors my soxors! No one else is as l33t as him! How can I liiiiiive without seeing his sweet bod again?!"

The princess heard a refined clanking at the side of her bed. Mervyn. At last. She rolled over slowly, taking in a casual glance at her tuxedo-clad servant.

"Madam, is there something you require?" Mervyn enquired, in his soft, clipped voice.

"OMFG Mervyn, j00 like, took for3v3r to get here." The Princess exclaimed, jumping up, and hopping up and down on her bed.

"I was not aware that your highness had called. I merely came in to do a little flood control."
Mervyn pointed towards some shiny pipes leading out of the entrance to the Princess' room.

"Was that a j0ke? I'm like, totally not laughing, d00d. Why do you always have to make fun of meeeeee??" the Princess continued bouncing on the bed, only faster, and adding a new stream of water to be flushed out.

Mervyn sighed. It was to be one of those days.

-----

TB sat down at his desk quietly, waiting the arrival of Me'tha. Outwardly, he showed no particular signs of anything, but inside, a calculator was rapidly going over figures. This was not uncommon for TB, pretty much the usual run of things. But today, the figures were looking very good indeed. Mysterious expedition, for unknown length of time, unexpected dangers... so many extra charges to factor in. The summer heat was only just fading, must factor in fatigue to the men, the 'need' (and charging) for extra horses...

TB's thoughts were derailed as he finally came to notice a noise in the room. Clack. Clack. Clack. Clack...

"George, what ARE you doing now?" TB asked, rising from his chair, and facing his brutish bodyguard.

"Well, boz.." George started, painfully slowly, "Lenny here wuz saying that I couldn't be quiet for a whole talk, so I'z decided to show him wrong." George beamed, proud at his accomplishment.

"Well then, what was that noise?"

"I wuz making cuts in the wall every time I was quiet."

"Ain't he clevah?" Lenny chimed in, "now he's got proof of how clevah he is!"

"So to prove you were quiet, you made noise." TB summarized, with amazing calm and neutrality.

"Yeah!" George beamed. "Ain't I good?"

Little pieces getting into place

It's not that Me'tha was all that atypical of his race, but he was an elf. "Arrogant, condescending, pompous ass," TB muttered to himself. Not that he really minded. If Me'tha wasn't so stuck on himself, he might have been a much sharper trader, and that was the important bit, wasn't it? After all, he didn't mind the work, but he expected to get paid well for it.

"George, Lenny."

The two hobgoblins drew themselves up into a fair approximation of attention, Lenny's fisted salute a bit extra, clanging fiercely against his helmet.* "Yes, boss?" asked George.

"Let me make this clear." TB spoke slowly and simply. "This visit is important. As in expensive. Me'tha wants us to organize an expedition, and he refuses to tell us what for. Which means that both my price went up, and it must be important, as he didn't even blink."

TB avoided speaking the exact numbers that he had used. Not that he was particularly worried that George and Lenny would demand a raise (they had trouble with numbers higher than ten with their shoes on) but on general principles.

"Which means, I need you two to three things for me. Stand there, look menacing, and don't - say - anything. Got it?"

Lenny nodded. "Sure, Boss." George agreed, smiling. He was glad they got to do their menacing bit. It was a favourite.

-----

* TB barely noticed. It wasn't like Lenny was hitting something important. TB would have been, had he thought about it, more worried that Lenny had bruised his knuckles.

-----

Me'tha lounged in his carriage, taking up one side of it as he let the bumps in the road swirl the dregs of the wine in his glass. "Ah, finally, I can get started. With my knowledge and the application of some straightforward military force, I will have it in no time." He sighed. "Still it seems such a shame to have to use such brutish methods, don't you agree?"

The other occupant of the carriage said nothing, glaring at Me'tha.

"Oh, come now miss. Surely you don't feel under duress about all this. Between TB and his henchman, I'm sure you'll tell me where you came from. Seems almost a shame really." Tossing back the dregs of the wine in his glass, he upended the bottle, looking for a few more drops. "Alas..." He wasn't really expecting an answer though, with his companion bound and gagged.

"And once you tell me where you found a demi-god, the hunt will be on for one of the lost sceptres. After all, nothing but a sceptre would be powerful enough to give you such a strange form."

Rastilina sighed through her gag. Really, all she wanted to do was DIE. You'd think threatening to rob a fulling laden caravan, getting captured, and spitting in the face of their leader would be enough to ensure your demise in these ancient times. But nooooo....

-----

Up on the moon, the Princess grumbled as she gazed through her telescope. "Stop travelling already, and come out, Me'tha. Give me another view of your hunky body..."

-----

It starts.

Light. Blinding light. It was all she could see, a pure haze of nothing. Though she knew there was more there. She could hear the soft murmurs, the plodding voices. She head the voices of her doom.

"Stop talking and get on with it!" a shriek escapes her lips, "Kill me now, end it! Ennnd iiiiiiit!!" her voice dissolves into a peal of laughter, followed by a scream.

Stony silence was her only reply, for a moment. After painfully quiet moments, a voice spoke up, "Rastilina, the charges laid against you are treason, sedition, and plotting to overthrow The Order. Such acts cannot be purged by mere death."

"I care not for The Order! I care about death. DEATH!" Rastilina struggled against the chains that held her down. She managed to wriggle weakly on the ground, but no more. The only strength left to her, it seemed, was in her voice. "Yours, the world, the universe, my very own. What we go through, all we see, touch, feel, it is nothing! It means nothing! The only thing with any mean-"

"Enough!" the voice boomed, deafening out even Rastilina's cries. "I will not have you poison any other members of the order. Enough damage has been caused by you already."

"Then give me what I want!"

Suddenly, the light faded. Rastilina blinked, and could see Taruma, head of The Order itself, standing calmly in front of her. To each side, a few meters away, stood elders of the clans. And a few meters from them, stood more of the elders. They were in a circle around here. All but Taruma himself stood in intense concetration, staffs in front of them. They were not talking to each other, Rastilina realized, but chanting.

"What matter of spell is this?!" She cried, her voice swelling once more. "What do you intend to do with me?"

"You are banished, Rastilina." Taruma said calmly, "Never again shall you taint us. Before the great birth, before the cataclysm... that is where you will find your fate."

"Before the.... what are you -"

At that moment, the chanting of the elders ended, and they raised their staffs in unison, striking the ground once. There was a loud crack, and Rastilina had dissapeared. Taruma sighed, and stepped away from the circle, shufflingly away weakly. It was a risk, this punishment. But... it could the saving grace, the one chance to get things right, to have things as they should have been...

On the other hand, it could imbue The Order's greatest magician with power enough to destroy the universe on her own. But what's life without a little risk?

--------------

The Soft Serve Gestapo Gets Crowned

Chapter 1: It's the end of the world as we know it, and I'd like a refund.

--------------

Sun shone down hard upon the city of Pa'tok. Being situated in a valley, surrounded by mountains, had not kept it safe. It had been a difficult summer, dry and hot, and supplies had not moved as they used to. The city relied on trade, and had hurt badly in the heat, the absense of people willing to do anything but stay indoors, and the absense of travellers. Business was bad. This was not a concern to most, Goblins were a stingy lot, and their stores would keep them well supplied for a long time to come. It just wouldn't make them a profit, either.

It was with great joy that the news of the approach of a large caravan came to the town. Summer was on its way out, and there was hope that this would be the first of many visitors. Those who could stir themselves out of there homes prepared their stores, brought out their best-looking wares, and hoped their store could be found by the approaching money... customers, customers! Riders had seem them approaching the mountain ranges, a day or two away. It would only be an eternity for those shopkeepers in need of a sale. Or if not need of a sale, certainly showing up the other stores around them.

TB was not worried or tense about the arrival though, because he knew exactly who was coming, and why.