 |
|
|
Post By The Hooded Hood's triple-sized Christmas card to the Parodyverse Fri Dec 24, 2004 at 07:54:07 pm EST |
Subject
#200: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion Christmas Special: The Feast of Yule, and Other Anomalies | |
|
|
Next In Thread >> | |
| #200: Untold Tales of the Lair Legion Christmas Special: The Feast of Yule, and Other Anomalies What Has Gone Before: After the trauma and devastation of the Hellraisers’ attacks, many of the Lair Legion are ready to quit the team and the fellowship of heroes may be coming to an end. Their leader Sir Mumphrey has invited the team and their guests to his English estate for the holidays, gambling on some mysterious plan to save the Legion. But Xander the Improbable has made a bargain with the demonic Sage Grimpenghast over the future of the demonic potential of the fallen hell-Lords that somehow relates to what Mumph is up to, so things aren’t as simple as they seem. There’s a huge cast in this one, but those needing a reminder can check the Guest List, or resort to the Who's Who in the Parodyverse. Now grab a mince pie, pour yourself a brandy, sit back into the old leather arm chair and let the spirit of the season take you to a clear frosty morning in the old county of Shropshire, England…  The Feast of Christmas at the home of Sir Mumphrey Wilton KBE GCB GCMG CVCO FRS Wilton Manor Wendel’s Hallow Shropshire, England RSVP. The rolling countryside was crisp with frost, with the promise of snow to follow. The Rolls Royce Silver Dawn glided over the lonely roads, its massive engine almost silent despite being half a century old. And in the back the five passengers watched the leafless trees and the dry-stone walls and the empty fields slide past, “Have you been to your grandfather’s house before, Whitney?” asked April Alice Apple, CrazySugarFreakBoy!’s object of passion. Sorceress shook her head. “Apart from the family he’s hardly had anyone here since his wife died. His other family, I mean. We didn’t find out that Mumph fathered my mom Vervain on Hagatha until two or three years back.” She stated out at the old countryside. “I guess this is all kind of new to me. It’s like… I don’t know, some kind of Dickens novel.” Hatman smiled at his old lover. “Don’t be nervous, Whit. You’ll be just fine.” “Hey, she turns out to be the grand-daughter of this knight,” ManMan pointed out. “And who knew Mumphrey was this rich too? She’s allowed to be a bit nervous. It’s like the Princess Diaries all over again.” “Not that Joe saw that film fourteen times,” Knifey, ManMan’s talking weapon, snickered. “Anne Hathaway is a very under-rated actress,” Joe Pepper objected, flushing. “And nobody gives Julie Andrews the respect she deserves.” “I’m not intimidated by his title,” Whitney promised. “After all, my ex-boyfriend just got a knighthood too.” She reached over and squeezed Jay Boaz’ hand proudly. “So they must give them out to anyone, right?” “Er, yes,” Hatman agreed uneasily, his hand automatically rising to the ribbon round his neck. He was still in a grey morning suit from his visit with Whitney to Buckingham Palace earlier in the day to be dubbed a Knight Commander of the Order of the St Michael and St George (KCMG) for his heroism in the Transworlds Challenge. “I guess everyone in the LL would have gotten one if they’d been Canadian, or some part of the Commonwealth.” “Does that mean we have to call you Sir?” Alice asked mischievously. “Only when you want to make him blush,” grinned Whitney. “Maybe in front of his fan club?” “I never invited Trudi and Jenni Wooster,” Sir Jay Boaz objected. “Really. They just conned Dancer, that’s all. Asil switched round the room assignments and they’ve got a bedroom of their own now.” “Poor Jay,” the Sorceress moued. April spotted a road sign and bounced excitedly in her seat. “There! That said Wendel’s Hallow! We’ve almost arrived.” The Librarian looked up from his volume of Spenser. “Hmm, so we have,” he agreed. “Fascinating place, Wendel’s Hallow. Named after the mythical English giant, and I believe there used be a huge figure cut in the turf up there on the hill until the nineteenth century.” “Mumph probably remembers it then,” observed Hatman. “The Wilton’s have owned this land in the female line since at least the Domesday Book census of the eleventh century,” Lee Bookman continued. “Although the family name changed through marriage a couple of times. They probably held it before that if a Norman invader married a Saxon heiress to legitimise his claims.” Then he lowered his voice in disapproval. “But they kept no records at that time.” “Will we be there soon?” Alice asked the chauffeur excitedly. “I’m missing my Dreamy.” Then the vehicle rounded a tight corner over a hump-backed bridge and swept up to a gatehouse that guarded tall iron gates. An old man wheezed out of the cottage to allow them access to the driveway beyond. “This is Mumphrey’s estate?” Whitney checked. “We’ve been on Sir Mumphrey’s land for the last half hour, I believe madam,” the driver replied. A mere mile up the driveway the land opened out into a Capability Brown vista, and the long frontage of the stately home was laid about before them. “But this is Wilton Manor.” This place is completely screwy,” CrazySugarFreakBoy! warned April as they enthusiastically reunited in the hallway. “No, really. I mean spiffy had to give me orientation on what that extra little toilet was in the bathroom, and there’s all these rooms but no wide-screen plasma-screen cable TV. In fact no TV at all! But I got Al B. working on that.” “Ah. You are to be being here at last!” Yo called down to the newcomers, vaulting over the balcony like Errol Flynn and landing lightly beside Hatty and Sorcy. “Asil was to be worrying. Is to be dinner in one hour.” The Librarian was still staring around as he was dragged away by the enthusiastic thought being. “There are some rather interesting inscriptions on that stained glass window.” Then his head jerked round suddenly. “Sir Mumphrey has a library,” he sensed. “I see you too kids have found each other again,” Meggan Foxxx observed, emerging from the Blue Drawing Room hefting baby Oliver at her hip and joining Dream and April. “Now ain’t this a change of pace from us shivering in a Seattle walk-up and treating ourselves to a packet of Hershey bars at Christmas, Dream?” CSFB! drew his mother and little brother into the hug with Alice. “Wherever you guys are, that’s the best Christmas,” he promised. Meggan, who a few weeks before had though he was lost forever, hugged his back as fiercely as she could. “Aw, does this place come with barf bags?” demanded Trickshot, walking in on the tender scene. “It comes with genuine Victorian plumbing,” Dancer warned, joining the reception crew. “I mean, did those people enjoy washing in freezing water?” “Conquered an empire on it, m’dear,” Sir Mumphrey assured her, striding out of the Snug to greet his newest arrivals. “Welcome to Wilton Manor, old chaps. C’mon in.” And outside the snows began to fall. “It’s snowing!” called Ham-Boy as the first flakes dropped from the leaden sky. “Aghhh!” winced Hacker Nine, flinching from the crystals. “There’s a catastrophic environmental control failure!” Lindy Wilson glanced across at him with amusement. “You’ve never seen snow before?” H9 shrugged in embarrassment. “I grew up inside a giant city-dome,” he pointed out. “It only rained when we needed the streets cleaning.” He looked up at the shimmering flakes falling down on him. “Nobody ever told me it was like this,” he admitted. “Wait until later, when it’s settled a bit” Kerry promised him. “We have this little ceremony here on low-tech Earth we call the Snowball Ambush. We’ll be happy to show you.” “Tis good to have some proper weather for the nonce,” Harlagaz agreed. “But let us now hie to our horses ere the weather becomes too treacherous to explore.” “Is that really a good idea?” Hacker Nine checked, looking doubtfully at the roan gelding he was leading. “I mean, these things don’t appear to have a very sophisticated control interface.” “They’re beautiful,” Lindy admitted, admiring the chestnut mare she’d been given to ride, “But I’ve never even touched a horse before today. They’re big.” “Everybody needs to learn to ride,” Fashion Accessory told them, perfect in her red-and-white hunt outfit. “It’s just a matter of balance. I got my first pony when I was three.” “I think that was when I got my first box of matches,” reminisced Kerry. “It would be good to go explore the forest,” Glory woofed enthusiastically. “Preferably where that Hound-dog of spiffy’s cant keep sniffing me.” “Fear not, boon companions,” Harlagaz told them, “for I art most keen to teach thee how to ride.” “Yeah,” agreed FA, “but first we have to show these guys how to use horses.” “Are you in the study, Asil?” called Sir Mumphrey Wilton. “Yeah,” agreed the eccentric Englishman’s young amanuensis. “I mean yes. I was just checking in with Amber over at the Lair Mansion. The refit’s going well and she didn’t seem to be missing being at the party.” “She wants a bit of time to come to terms with her unpleasant experience,” Mumph explained. “Best to let her work things through in her own way, what? And if helping get the Mansion runnin’ again is what she needs to do, so be it.” “I’ve checked the guest list,” Asil reported. “Everyone’s arrived now except Xander and Cleone, and they’re not due until tomorrow. Of the people we sent invitations to we have apologies from Commissioner Graham, from Colonel Drury, and from Reverend Fleetwood. Busy time of year for them, I guess. Banjooooo, Caveguy, and Elsqueevio had to head back to whatever they were doing before the crisis. And Messenger said no as well. He claims he’s not a party person, but I think he just doesn’t want to face the Lair Legion.” “Hm. Ms Chinato was asking after him.” “I couldn’t find ways of contacting Finny, or Dark Knight, or Space Ghost,” Asil admitted. “I tried.” “They’ll find us when they want to,” Mumph assured her. “So how many folks do we have?” “Sixty-one guests,” the young woman calculated. “Quite a lot of the LL brought guests of their own. Vizh invited the Caphans, Dream brought Alice and his mom, G-Eyed brought Beth and Laurie, the Shoggoth brought Ebony, Al brought the EEE crew and some girl with purple hair. Falc invited Pigeon and Lindy. Even Tricky turned up with that Desert Rose girl, though he says they’re just good friends. Mumphrey checked the numbers. “Sixty-two,” he suggested. “You forgot to include our hostess.” Asil looked at the list in confusion. “Lisa’s on here.” Mumph shook his head. “Lisa’s not the lady who knows this house, and the staff, and is accustomed to organising things for me here,” he pointed out, “Nor the one who helped with all the arrangements, prepared the invitations, and put so much thought and care into everything.” Asil’s eyes widened. “You mean me?” “The hostess has to set the tone of the occasion, to make people welcome, to be gracious and kind and exemplify the hospitality of the house.” Mumphrey looked sad for a moment, then went on, “I would be honoured if you would consider yourself hostess at Wilton Manor on my behalf, Miss Ashling.” dull thud bundled all his possessions into his shabby rucksack then jumped from the second floor window (it would have been third floor in an American house) to land in the snow below. “Going somewhere?” Nats asked. “Gah!” gasped thuddy “You scared the bejeezus out of me!” Bill Reed was crouching atop a stone lion on the rear patio, oblivious to the snowstorm around him. He didn’t seem to feel the cold these days. ~~We were just taking a stroll before dinner~~ Cressida explained. “Sure,” Nats shrugged. “Have a nice walk.” dull thud looked back to the house. “We can’t stay, Bill!” he blurted. “We can’t risk it.” The flying phenomenon had heard about ZOXXON Oil’s legal challenge for ownership of Cressida as their intellectual property. “It’s no big deal. Lisa’ll do something unscrupulous and brilliant, or Mumph’ll get the UN to pass a new law or something. Nobody can take Cressie away from you.” ~~We’ve seen it happen,~~ the wonder worm explained, ~~In one of those futures we stumbled across in Herringcarp Asylum. If we stay with the Legion, it’s going to come true.” “So we’re runnin’,” thud confessed. “Disappearing underground. They’ll never find us.” “The bad stuff always find us,” Nats said bleakly. “But run if you want to. I don’t care any more.” dull thud and Cressida hurried off into the night. Goldeneyed crossed the lobby floor and tapped De Brown Streak on the shoulder. Josh Clement whirled round to face him. “Yes?” demanded the mutate speedster. “You’re looking for your anti-mutation gun?” Bry Katz took the rebuke. “I just wanted to say welcome to the Lair Legion,” he said. “You know that stuff with Beth was all a misunderstanding.” “You mean you shooting me and crippling me for life if it hadn’t been from some miracle weird science later?” DBS answered venomously. “Yeah, we all have days like that, don’t we?” “I thought at the time you’d hurt Beth.” “No,” growled Josh. “I saved her life. She was safe with me. My girlfriends don’t get raped.” G-Eyed’s eyes narrowed with anger. “Listen, you little pissant, I’m making nice and trying to let bygones be bygones, but one more cheap shot about Laurie and…” “Hey, you’re the master of the cheap shots, Goldenbutt. Usually in the back, right?” “Hey, I was just extending the hand. You want to be a jerk, that’s fine too.” DBS and G-Eyed suddenly became aware that Beth Shellett was standing beside them. “Getting into the Christmas spirit?” she enquired mildly. “Something like that,” Josh Clement answered ruefully. “You need to get on,” the perky schoolteacher lectured them. “After all, Josh is going to be in the Legion now, and Yo’s been on Bry’s case all day about him joining up again.” “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea after last time,” Goldeneyed answered by reflex for the fiftieth time. “And I’m not so sure I’m staying around,” De Brown Streak responded. “I only agreed to be a probationary member of your super-club because the alternative was a death sentence. Mumphrey kind of trapped me in the moment.” “Being a Legionnaire is a privilege and an honour! “Is that why they tossed you out on your golden ass?” “I’ll be over at the drinks cabinet,” sighed Beth. “Missing Chris?” Lisa turned away from the French Window in the Jacobean Room as Sir Mumphrey found her. “I know he’s safer and happier in the Silver Age dimension,” she admitted. “This thing with the Hellraisers just confirmed I made the right decision sending him there. But sometimes I miss holding him.” Mumphrey nodded. “Before the dinner, Mumphrey,” Lisa said to him. “there’s something I need to say.” “Of course,” the eccentric Englishman agreed. “Say on.” The first lady of the Lair Legion crossed her arms. “It’s what the Hooded Hood mentioned, back at Herringcarp,” she admitted. “About when Dancer and I were hostages.” “That he was willing to surrender to save your lives, and that I wasn’t,” Mumphrey considered. “Yes.” “That bothers you, what?” “Yes.” Sir Mumphrey shifted uncomfortably. “He’s a damned archvillain, and he doesn’t have a team and then the whole world dependin’ on him. He doesn’t have to weigh things and make awful, appalling choices to sacrifice loved ones to save millions.” “He threw himself before the Chain Knight to save Asil,” Lisa pointed out. “And he gave himself up to the Hellraisers to save me.” “And I didn’t.” “Mumphrey, I understand what you did. In my head I know it was the right choice. But my heart…” The amorous advocatrix shook her head. “I don’t think our romance can continue, Mumphrey. This would always be there.” “Of course. I understand,” said Sir Mumphrey Wilton, and left the drawing room. Trudi and Jenni were ready for the fray. Trudi had selected a chartreuse Asian-style Dior evening gown while Jenni had resorted to backless Ralph Lauren in pink, with matching high gloves. They were accessorised to perfection, and now they left their room to descend to grand staircase and attend the Christmas Eve dinner. They opened the door and came across nine almost-naked green girls in jewelled bikinis. “Oh,” frowned Trudi. “It’s that kind of party.” “Hello,” smiled Luuma of Caph, one of the slave-girls rescued by the Legion during the Transworlds Challenge. “Who is your master?” The Wooster Twins exchanged glances. “Holy Eyes Wide Shut,” breathed Trudi. “Now remember, not all Earth girls are fortunate enough to have masters,” Deela of Caph pointed out. “We have to select our masters on this planet, not be bought by them.” “Did I miss a memo about green body paint being in this season?” Jenni worried. “We are not the Lair Legion’s slaves any more,” Miiri reminded her fellow Caphans. “We need not service the sexual needs of others unless we elect to do so, and will not be flogged for disobedience.” Trudi and Jenni exchanged worried looks. “Looks like those articles about Nats were true. There is a whole ‘scene’ going on behind the masks,” Jenni noted. “Maybe the Legion just flew the Martian Bikini Team in for a little R&R?” suggested Trudi. “It’s not like everybody has to be green. It wouldn’t go with my outfit.” Hallie hurried past in a cream silk spaghetti-strap gown muttering to herself over the inefficiency of human clothing fasteners. “She was green too,” Jenni pointed out. “But clothed,” Trudi noted. “So maybe…” Then Ebony of Nubilia strode past in her formal ceremonial priestess gear, which consisted mainly of feathers and swirling gold hoops. “Where the heck are we going to get metal eggcups at this time of night?” worried Jenni. “Well, you could always use hubcaps,” Trudi suggested bitchily. “Excuse me,” Mr Epitome said to the unfamiliar young woman with the purple hair, “but I couldn’t help but notice that you’re a robot.” Yuki Shiro turned away from her study of the landscapes on the walls of the long gallery and pressed a hand up to the back of her neck. “What, are my ports showing?” she wondered. “Nothing like that,” Mr Epitome assured her. “But I have X-ray vision. Except it doesn’t actually use real x-rays.” “So you go to a party and scan the babes without their clothes on,” Yuki scowled. “No. But I do tend to do random scans for concealed weapons or bombs. A gathering like this could attract the wrong sort of attention, and a single explosion here could take out a really major chunk of the superhuman community.” Yuki considered this. “I guess that’s a fair precaution,” she admitted. “I did it with a low-range electronic scan and an atmosphere particle sample analysis.” Epitome held out his hand. “I’m Mister Epitome. Pleased to meet a robo-American” “I’m not a ‘Robo-American’,” Yuki told him. “I’m not a robot, I’m a cyborg. But my human brain is pretty well shielded so you wouldn’t pick that up with your scans.” “You came with Al Harper. Did he…?” “Secret origin. Back off, Captain America.” Mr Epitome backed off. “Actually, I can bench-press far more than C…” “So you’re expecting trouble?” Yuki asked him. “Not specifically,” Dominic Clancy answered. “But I like to keep alert. Are you asking as a party guest or as a licensed private investigator from Gothametropolis York, Ms Yuki?” “So you checked me out in more ways than just the x-ray vision,” the young woman smirked. “I guess it helps to have a few paranoids about. Have you seen the Asian chick with the katana? She’s been scouting the exits and watching the punters too.” “Ms Chinato? I’m unsure why Sir Mumphrey allowed Sorceress to bring her after her assassination attempt on his life.” “She doesn’t say much, but she’s always in the background, watching and listening. I don’t trust her.” Mr Epitome nodded soberly. “Merry Christmas, Ms Yuki.” Visionary brought a coat out to Hallie as she stood in the snow on the patio balcony. “You haven’t really got the hang of this human body stuff yet, have you?” he said as he wrapped the fur about her. “I’m just enjoying feeling cold,” the former AI admitted. “And snowflakes tickling. I like tickling.” “Um, yes,” Vizh swallowed. “But you need to maintain your body temperature, or you get what we humans tend to call a nasty head cold. That’s not an experience you’ll want to try, believe me.” Hallie huddled inside the wrap. “And now I feel warm, which is even better,” she admitted. “Our entire relationship since I became human seems to be about you dressing me, Visionary.” “No, no not really,” the possibly-fake man stammered. “No.” “I had no idea you were so good with bra straps.” “It was an emergency,” Vizh told her hastily. “Our friends were in peril and we needed to get out of there fast. I wouldn’t have helped you otherwise.” “You just enjoyed watching me struggle with my underwear?” “No! I wasn’t watching.” “So how did you know I needed help?” “Er, I think I hear Fleabot calling me,” Vizh lied. “Excuse me. Coming, Fleabot!” Sam Wilson just managed to hold still while Julia Thompson knotted his bow tie for him. “I don’t know why I let Sir Mumphrey talk me into coming to this damned party,” he complained. “I hate getting into these tuxes and havin’ to worry about what fork to use and stuff.” “He’s trying to convince you to stay with the Lair Legion now your probationary period’s ending,” Pigeon told him. “You have to decide whether you’re going to let him.” “They’re a bunch of amateurs,” Falcon complained. “And yet you go into danger with them time and time again, and they seem to save the world.” “Lucky amateurs,” Sam conceded. “And yeah, good people most of them.” “Do I sense a certain reluctance to leave under that hard-as-nails exterior of yours?” “Maybe a little. These guys don’t always distinguish work from play and opinion from duty but… yeah, it’s been a hell of a ride.” Julia brushed down her lavender Vera Wang and checked herself in the mirror. Country house balls were old territory for her, although she was more familiar with Vermont than Shropshire. “You know I’m going back out into the field, don’t you?” she ventured. “Yeah,” Sam admitted. “But not where. Need to know.” “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone,” the SPUD undercover operative said, staring at a corner of the room rather than face her lover. “You know you don’t have to wait for me, don’t you?” “Is it going to be dangerous where you’re going?” worried Falcon. “Little bit,” Pigeon admitted. She glanced at him then turned away. “I could use some deep cover back-up.” Falcon didn’t say anything then, but his tie seemed to be choking him. Flapjack rapped on Tricia’s door then entered quickly in the hopes she might be dressing. He was disappointed to find her already squeezed into a filly flowery frock that made her look like a slightly overweight birthday cake. Temporary Death had conceived a major dislike of black. “Is he coming in?” she asked the major-domo anxiously. “Nats telekinetically tossed me into the carp pool so I’m taking that as a no,” Flapjack admitted. Tricia bit her lip. “Poor Bill.” “Yeah, poor Bill. Me, I like ice in my shorts.” Tricia looked at the hunchback sympathetically. “I’m sorry. And you just back from a short stay in my domain while your uncle refitted you. Does it still hurt? Is there anything I can do?” Flapjack made a few suggestions. “Is there anything else I can do?” Temporary Death asked with blazing cheeks. “I need to talk with you!” said Beverly Campbell crossly. The Hooded Hood looked up from his volume of Tennyson’s Idylls of the King “Indeed?” he said. The mutate girl swallowed and persisted. “Yes. About Mark. spiffy.” The cowled crime czar carefully placed a bookmark and laid his reading aside. “Proceed,” he told her. “Well… I don’t think you treat him very well,” Bev stammered. “You’re supposed to be his father, right?” “No,” the Hooded Hood replied. “I elected to retcon that particular relationship.” “Because he stood up to you, and wouldn’t let you conquer the world or something.” The Hooded Hood assented. “What a waste of his potential.” Bev put her hand son her hips. “Well I don’t think his potential’s been wasted,” she retorted. “He was Mayor of Gothametropolis and now he’s saving a whole country! He’s doing things to make people’s lives better, and he’s trying so hard that everybody around him sees it and tries that bit harder too. And if that doesn’t make you proud of him then you’re not fit to be his father!” “Indeed?” “Indeed. So there.” “And what do you propose I do about this, Ms Campbell?” “Y-you know me?” “I know things about you that even you do not suspect,” promised the cowled crime czar. “Your past, your future, your end. Shall I share some of them with you?” “No. No, that’s fine. Thanks. Really.” The Hooded Hood cradled his fingertips and set back, “And regarding Mark?” “You need to take him back. Show him he’s doing well,” Beverly pleaded. “spiff, he needs to know that people like him, love him. Even you.” The Hooded Hood looked up at the scared girl. “I shall consider your words, Ms Campbell. You may go.” Beverly Campbell fled. Sir Mumphrey Wilton completed his long walk around the boundaries of the Manor, and stopped to bury the last silver coin in the ground. “So you’re going ahead with this?” asked the wizened old man who was waiting for him by the gate. “Nothing else for it,” the eccentric Englishman pointed out. “Need to pull the team together, get ‘em to see the truth. This is the last chance.” “You know it could be dangerous, unleashing these ancient forces?” “Not as dangerous as a world without a Lair Legion, what?” “Your choice, Sir Mumphrey. It’s always human choice.” The little hunchback held out his hand. The eccentric Englishman shook it. “My regards to your Lady, Mr Pelznichol,” he told the sooty old man. “And the compliments of the season.” Pelznichol watched the knight trudge back across the new-laid snow. “He struck a bargain?” asked Sage Grimpenghast. “He called upon the old spirit of Yule.” “He knows some of the old ways, sure enough,” the dwarf agreed. “But he doesn’t know you’re lurking, Master of Deceits.” “I wouldn’t be being deceitful if he did, would I? So are they all inside, the little heroes and their kin?” “All that’s coming,” agreed Pelznichol. “But that’s a lot.” “Splendid,” hissed Grimpenghast. “And they have no idea that one of them is a murderer.” “I reckon they’ll find out soon enough,” shrugged the wizened dwarf. “But then, that’ll be your wager, won’t it?” “Hey, Nitz the Bloody!” called Al B. Harper, “get over here a second.” The High Priest of Zeku threaded his way through the crowd gathering in the hall ready for the dinner gong to join the little knot hunkered down in an inglenook alcove hunched over the remains of a betamax video player. “What’s happening?” “Something interesting,” bubbled the Manga Shoggoth, trying not to ooze between the bandages that held him into relatively human form and stain his diner jacket. NTU-150 prodded the ad-hoc ectoplasmic wave detector. “We think there’s some unusual subharmonics developing in the standing reality field here,” he explained to the helmeted hero. “The Shoggoth is sensing alterations in the dimensional relationships.” “Perhaps they just want to be good friends from now on?” suggested Nitz. Only Amy Aston giggled. “Can you do a little spell?” Al B. asked the high priest. “We need it to be like a sound ping in radar.” “Flowereku!” Nitz said, and handed the rose to the EEE mechanic. “Did you get that?” Miss Framlicker demanded of Al B. “Did you log that wave harmonic?” “It’s logged,” Enty assured her. “Hold on. I’ll play it on Fleabot's interpolation chip through my external speaker.” He unplugged his brandy muller and jacked in his sound card and played back the waveform. HO! HO! HO! Flapjack sounded the gong for dinner. Dinner was served in the main dining room, around a long table with Mumphrey at one end and Asil at the other. CrazySugarFreakBoy! took one look at the complicated array of cutlery and grabbed a spork from his bag of tricks. But his trials weren't over yet. "What the hell," he cried as he read the menu. "I'm supposed to put Spotted Dick in my mouth?" “The grand dining room at the palace is bigger than this,” Bev Campbell noted to spiffy, “so why does this feel so much more grand?” “I think the Badripoor palace was built to impress,” Mark Hopkins considered. “This was built so people who were already impressive could get fed.” Baroness von Zemo took her seat and glared at the woman opposite her. “You are Shazana Pel,” she declared.. “Yes,” the pigeonwoman answered challengingly. “I’m the Elizabeth von Zemo.” “Okay.” The Baroness continued to glare at the pigeonwoman. “What is your relationship to De Brown Streak?” Pel considered this. “I can defeat him in combat,” she answered. At that point CSFB! noticed there was a villainess sitting two places down from him. “Hey!” he objected, waving his spork past Odoona. “You zapped me with an anti-sugar ray!” Beth von Zemo looked back at him. “Yes,” she agreed. “Pass the salt.” “I thought you were Visionary’s neighbour, made homeless by the Hellraisers,” Temporary Death puzzled. “I’m Visionary’s former neighbour, made homeless by Kerry Shepherdson,” the Baroness replied. “Read all about it in my forthcoming deposition.” The soup course was cleared away and the fish course appeared. “Isn’t Nats joining us?” Ham-Boy wondered. “I know he’s blown away by, y’know, Uhuna dying, but…” “Yo was trying to be getting of Nats to be dining,” Yo answered, “but is not to be Nats is wanting to come.” “Where’s thuddy?” Vizh wondered. “It’s not like him to miss free food.” “Perhaps Cressie’s talking to Bill?” Hallie suggested. “She’s sensitive to people in pain.” Kaara the Caphan noted the intimate tilt of the former AI’s head towards Visionary with a practised eye. “Excuse me?” she said to Hallie across the dinner table. “Will you be having sex with Visionary tonight?” Hallie dropped her spoon into the sauce and splattered Vizh. “What? No!” “Er, yes,” Vizh agreed. “I mean no. No to sex, not yes to sex, that is. No sex. Bad sex.” “Not bad sex,” Hallie told him. “We don’t have sex. Of any kind, bad or good.” “What she said. Whatever it was.” Kaara looked across at her fellow ex-slaves. “Ah. Well then, we were wondering which of us you would like to have sex with, master Visionary.” spiffy started choking and Donar had to slap him on the back until his face fell into the fish sauce. Vizh sat there with his fork half way to his mouth. “Pick Deela,” recommended Nitz is an audible whisper. “Or Philaana.” “I thought you didn’t have relationships with these unfortunate young women, Visionary,” Hallie noted dangerously. Keiko surreptitiously slipped the steak knife out of the AI’s place setting. “Oh, he did not sample us while we were slaves,” explained Noona. “But now we are free and can have sex with whomever we like.” Trickshot sat up and began to smooth back his hair. “It doesn’t quite work like that,” Laurie Leyton advised them. “Well, I suppose it does actually, given the way you all look and the fact that guys are guys.” “But Visionary was very happy when Miiri thanked him for his kindnesses,” Odoona noted. “He what?” yelped Kerry. “They had sex, apparently,” the Baroness clarified helpfully, loudly, and distinctly. The general chatter at the far end of the table stopped dead. “Remember that talk we had on appropriate confidentiality?” Miiri hissed to her sisters. “But you said he was very happy with it,” Noona reminded her. “You said it was quite refreshing to yekla-sto in the b’rah position with someone who was so balka-thriss. Twice.” “Is that good?” Vizh asked worriedly. “Miiri seems to have enjoyed her unregulated and illicit sex with you,” Losiira explained. “So we all thought we should thank you. But would you prefer us to attend you one at a time or all together?” CSFB! sat back in a happy dream. “It really isn’t… I don’t think…” Vizh stammered. “There’s no need to do that. Really. I didn’t help you for any… reward.” “Well then, that must have been a pleasant fringe benefit,” suggested Hallie. “If he don’t want to, I could use a little rewardin’” suggested Trickshot. “I fear we have transgressed your world’s social mores once again,” Miiri suggested. “And we are embarrassing our former master. These things are not discussed in such social forums here.” “No, that’s fine,” CrazySugarFreakBoy! assured them. “Go right ahead.” “I miss the Hellraisers,” whimpered Visionary. “Maybe I’ll like the Lair Legion,” De Brown Streak considered. The butler announced the meat course. “Vizh will take his with extra cyanide,” suggested Lisa. The wassailers arrived as the cheese and wine were being served, and Flapjack announced them. “There’s a bunch of guys outside with torches on sticks and stuff. Do you have any major siege equipment or can I melt down one of the lead bathtubs to pour on them?” “Good instinct, that man,” Sir Mumphrey admitted, “but more traditionally we all go stand on the steps and they sing to us. Then we give them figgy pudding, which is much nastier than dropping molten metal on ‘em.” The guests rose and wandered out to the portico where a score or more of well-wrapped carol singers were waiting for them. “This would be a good ambush,” Yuki noted to Epitome. “They’re not packing,” Epitome shot back at her, “but keep checking our six.” The singers performed a traditional English folk carol, with words so ancient that their precise meaning was lost. Hagatha nodded her head to the weird, lilting tune. “I'll sing you twelve, O Green grow the rushes, O What are your twelve, O? Twelve for the twelve Apostles , Eleven for the eleven who went to heaven, Ten for the ten commandments, Nine for the nine bright shiners, Eight for the eight bold rangers, Seven for the seven stars in the sky Six for the six proud walkers, Five for the symbols at your door, Four for the Gospel makers, Three, three, the rivals, Two, two, lily-white boys, Clothed all in green, O One is one and all alone And evermore shall be so.” “I don’t suppose there’s any point me asking what that’s all about?” Miss Framlicker asked the Librarian. “Well, most commentaries say the lily-white boys are Jesus and John the Baptist,” Lee Bookman reported. “The six carried the waterpots at the wedding of Cana, there are seven planets, eight people on Noah’s ark, nine joys of the Virgin Mary…” “They’re stars,” interrupted Hagatha impatiently. “Things you see in the winter sky. The seven stars are the Plaedies. The eight bold rangers, or the April rainers in some versions, are the Hyades…” “It’s a prophecy,” Sorceress cut in, speaking directly to her grandmother for the first time since arriving at Wendel’s Hallow. “And a warning, like Ten Little Indians. First one falls from grace, then another is distracted by duty and law, then another by fame and ambition, and another dies in adventure.” She stared round at the Lair legion. “And one by one they’re reduced until there’s only one left. One is one and all alone, and evermore shall be so. The last one, the survivor. The one that caused it.” “Perhaps it’s time we all went inside for mince puddings?” suggested Asil uneasily. Flapjack opened the door to a hunchback that made him look like Charles Atlas and to a man dressed in the harlequin motley and half-face mask of a Fool. “Ho, the house!” thundered Mr Pelznichol. “Is there a welcome for us within?” Asil realised that Mumphrey was looking at her. “Er, yes,” she agreed, blushing. “Please, come in.” Hagatha Darkness frowned intently at the wizened man, then glanced across at Sir Mumphrey Wilton. Pelznichol hammered his tree-trunk staff three times on the floor, and the lights somehow dimmed then went out, until only the candles around the dinner table illuminated the room. Then the Fool whirled off his motley rag coat and took centre-stage with a bow. As if from nowhere he plucked six masks and set them in the air, where they hung unsupported. “A wizard,” frowned Shazana Pel, reaching for a carving knife. “Aw, it’s all done with wires,” Trickshot assured her. The Fool made a dramatic gesture and declaimed: “In comes I, a beggar poor, There's six more like me at the door, Some can dance and some can sing, By your consent they'll all come in. My head is big, my wit is small But I plays Tom Fool the best of all.” “So he’s not met CSFB!” murmured Nitz the Bloody. But the Fool was already dancing across in front of the diners. He caught up Sarah Shepherdson and whirled the Probability Dancer round in a quick tango before continuing his rhyme: “So all you lasses stand firm on the floor And don't let your skirts tumble down For if anything happens in forty weeks' more The blame will be laid on the clown.” He gave Dancer an outrageous grin and dropped her underwear into her hands before spinning her back to her chair. Sarah clutched the silken scraps and her eyes narrowed. “I know that man,” she frowned. “We have a gatecrasher.” “And all of you gentlemen look to your purses Give freely of gold not of scorns Applaud all our efforts of suffer our curses The ladies will give you your horns. “A traditional mummer’s play,” Lee Bookman recognised. “Fascinating. I’ve got dozens of them on record of course, but I’ve never seen one performed.” The Hooded Hood leaned forward and watched intently. The Fool gestured to the items he’d hung up before. In the candlelight they seemed to gleam with a lurid shine of their own, and the chamber was transformed into something older and larger. “Now here's the mantles, props and masks. Who'll stand and take them for the tasks?” “Go on, Manny,” G-Eyed prodded the Elvis impersonator next to him. “Over here, a volunteer.” “I’ll get you for this,” Joe Pepper replied as he was hauled onto the performance floor and fitted with a grotesque devil face. And then his posture changed, and his voice too, as he declaimed: “In jumps I, Beelzebub, On my shoulder I carries me club, In my hand a dripping pan. Don't you think I'm a jolly old man? I'm clad in green and fur and leaf I'll have your maids and make them swell I'll come as monster, rogue, and thief I'll bring you winter, death and hell!” The room chilled as a wind guttered the candles. Ebony looked over at the Shoggoth, but as usual he was completely absorbed in a live performance before him. The devil continued. “I'll judge your children bad or good Reward their virtue, chide their lack I'll offer gifts to those I should And eat the sinners from my sack! “This is like an 18 version of Santa Claus,” suggested Kerry Shepherdson. “This is the legend as it was before it was made safe,” snapped Hagatha Darkness. “As if it could be made safe.” The Fool spoke again: “The winter's chill comes with Old Nick The frosts that kill the old and sick The woes the King of Misrule brings.” He looked into the audience. “Is there no comely maid of springs?” Without intending to, Sorceress caught the flowered mask he hurled. She put it on, stood and shook out her long blonde hair until it tousled, and stepped into the play. “In comes I, the maiden free, Princess, peasant, bold or shy, I wonder who my love shall be? What hero's love will make me sigh? Who'll save the kingdom, brave the night? Who'll keep our people safe from harms? Who'll slay the dragon, stand the fight? That's the man who'll win my charms.” “Oh sure. She gets the starring role and I get my knickers stolen,” Dancer muttered. “That’s my entire acting career summarised right there.” Then Mr Epitome was on his feet, wearing a soldier’s helm and a hairy mail-shirt, slouching to bestial gait. “In comes I, the Soldier, so! ‘Bold Slasher’ is my fearsome name. My sword is bright, I heed no foe, Show me fell deeds to win my fame! My head's of iron, my heart's of stone, My limbs are brass, my body's steel. I'll smite you down and break your bone. No man can make me feel.” He raised his huge sword to Whitney. “I'll take this maid and plough her well, Then make her belly wax and swell.” “It’s a being impregnated part,” Vizh understood. “That’s why Whitney got the role.” The Fool shook his head in mock despair, holding up another helm and a tabard. “Is this the ending of our feast? The damsel coupling with the beast?” But Jay Boaz was there, pulling on the tunic and dragging the shining golden helmet onto his head. “In comes I, St George behold, Red and scarlet, blue and gold, A wyrm I've slain, a kingdom saved A Turkish knight full bold I've braved. I'll bide no maid be carried hence I'll face the grievous foe I'll stand with sword in your defence And kiss ye ere I go. This is the evening, fine and clear, I'll win and taste your Christmas cheer.” “Hurrah!” shouted spiffy, caught up in the moment. But Bold Slasher wasn’t impressed. “I'll fight this man of courage bold, If his blood runs hot I'll make it cold.” Then knight and soldier clashed together, slashing with their blades, each seeking the other’s end. “This is pretty realistic,” Falcon noted. “Aye,” agreed Donar happily. “Slay the caitiff for the nonce, Sir Knight!” “I think Jay and Epitome are getting a bit carried away,” worried Lisa. “Carried off on a stretcher if they’re not careful,” Keiko noted, watching the way the combatants moved. They weren’t aiming at each other’s swords as actors did. They moved like killers aiming for a kill. Then Hatman skewered Mr Epitome with his sword, sending the man of might sprawling onto the floor with a welter of blood. Whitney gave a little shocked cry. But it was ManMan as Beelzebub who stepped forward in the most distress: “O cruel knight what hast thou done To wound and kill my only son? My power's broken now I fear But I must come again next year. Is there naught anyone can do To make my son to live anew?” The Fool was already holding the mask out for Al B. Harper before the archscientist jerked up “In comes I, the doctor wise I know the true cures from the lies I've travelled Italy, France & Spain, Twice round the world and back again. I cure the palsy, itch, and gout. Pains within and pains without, Heal the sick and cure the lame, Raise dead men back to life again.” “This is a key bit,” Lee Bookman whispered excitedly. “In almost all the versions there’s a death that…” “Quit with the spoilers,” Desert Rose hissed in irritation. “I hate people who talk at the theatre.” “I've mastered physic, never doubt, If a man has six devils, I can cast seven out! I'll stop the blood and heal the wound, And raise the dead man from his doom! Oh yes there's doctor to be found, But I takes no less than fifty pound. The doctor leaned over Bold Slasher and administered golden drops from some elixir bottle. Slasher rose to life again, amidst the wonder of the audience. Then there was a wedding of St George and Bessie the damsel. At least it was fairly clear there was going to be some kind of ending that would make the land wax fertile again at winter’s end. The mummer’s plays tended not to be too subtle on that point. Mr Pelznichol himself handed CrazySugarFreakboy! the final mask, with a little bow from one master to another. CSFB! hopped onto the table. “In comes I, Little Jolly Jack, My wife and family at my back. Although I am so very small I am the biggest rogue of all. In sooty clothes with sooty sack I'll bring you luck so naught you'll lack. So give us meat, pud, pies, and beer We'll bless your house with Christmas cheer Forget your pains and woes and fear And revel now at turn of year!” The Fool spun round to face his audience. “Ladies and Gents give what you might We'll take our fees and bid good night Remember then the heart of Yule: Tis best to play and pay the Fool.” Then every light went out. Amazing Guy tucked the children in and padded downstairs, pulling on his starry cape. “They’re settled,” he said to his wife. “I’m just nipping over to England to wish the legion a Merry Christmas.” “Don’t be too late,” the woman in his arms smiled at him. “You might not get my special Christmas present.” “I can cover the whole world in a single night,” AG promised, and kissed her soundly before soaring off into the upper atmosphere. With his cosmic awareness it was easy to pinpoint the exact location to plummet back to Earth, in rural Shropshire near Wendel’s Hallow. But he couldn’t find the house. It wasn’t there. “Don’t bother looking,” Xander the Improbable warned him, leaning on a tree and munching on a bag of chestnuts. “It’s gone where you can’t follow.” Sir Mumphrey flicked his cigarette lighter and relit the candelabras. The actors were still there in their mummer’s finery, but Pelznichol was gone. Dancer rushed over to the Fool and snatched his mask off. “Con Johnstantine! I knew it was you!” “Because I play the fool so well, or because I got your knickers off so fast?” “Johnstantine!” thundered Sir Mumphrey. “I never invited you, you damned gatecrasher!” “You didn’t,” agreed the cheeky Cockney. He nodded to Asil. “The lady of the house did, though. She welcomed in the mummers. That’s me, squire.” “What happened here?” Hatman wondered. “That was pretty intense.” “Oh, it’s an old Christmas story,” Hagatha Darkness replied. “Death and rebirth and new life and all that. It’s not the oldest story, but it’s old.” “The winter king was the one who found the black bean in their feasting bowl,” Sorceress remembered. “For a short season they had whatever they wanted, and then they were slaughtered so their blood would make the crops grow.” “Nice customs here in Ing-Land,” snorted CSFB! “Aye, twas so,” agreed Donar. “Long past.” “You’re not saying they did human sacrifices to you, are you?” Vizh asked, worried. “Yo is hoping it had better not to have been!” frowned the pure thought being. “Nay, twas not so. Not if I caughteth them first,” agreed the hemigod hastily. “Verily. But yon crone ist right that tis an old story, and the struggle twixt hero and wild man to have the lady of yon land.” “I’d have thought these days a nice dinner and maybe a Cartier necklace would have done the trick,” Trudi Wooster suggested. “Just saying.” “Excuse me,” called Miiri, approaching Asil and Mumphrey. “If I understand the social occasion correctly, this is now a time for entertainments for the company?” “We might have a sing-song or somethin’ yes,” agreed Mumphrey. “And a few party games, what?” “May my sister and I perform for you, in thanks for you kindness?” Mumphrey glanced across at Visionary. “You mean a song, what?” “Yes, a song. From our homeland.” Mumphrey smiled down at the green girl. “My dear, we would be delighted.” So the Caphans gathered together and sang something slow and old, in nine-part harmony, and their voices echoed off the old high ceilings and filled the hall with regret and memory, and when they finished nobody made a sound until Trisha started clapping loudly. Then everyone joined in. “That was beautiful,” Temporary Death told them. “I remember that, from before, when the Lost Daughters of Ygrail were carried off by the Artificers of Ur-Tiril, the Exiles’ Lament.” “It is often sung at formal occasions on Caph,” admitted Sayaana. “I remember it from the first time,” whispered the conceptual being. Then CrazySugarFreakBoy! performed “Spider-Man, Spider-Man, Does Whatever a Spider Can,” followed by Josh Clement Jaggering his way through “I Can’t Get No Satisfaction,” and Yo and Meggan with “Diamonds Are a Girls’ Best Friend,” (except the word Diamond seemed to keep getting substituted for a more lapine noun). Dancer stopped the show with “Someday I’ll Fly Away”. Some of the company began drifting off now because it was quite late, but most stayed for pass the parcel (Epitome cheated and x-rayed the contents). Johnstantine won. Then there was Hide and Seek, which involved some giggling in closets and behind curtains and ended with Harlagaz having second degree burns treated and then getting a lecture from his father. And there was Murder in the Dark. There was some dancing then, to old tunes from Mumphrey’s ’45 collection. Kerry was sent from the room for making realistic gagging noises, but Fashion Accessory switched into something silky from Grace Kelly’s collection and danced with Yo. spiffy took to the floor with Bev. Hatman gallantly overlooked the Wooster twins’ blatant gatecrashing and partnered each of them in a waltz, but the sisters seemed much subdued after an earlier chat with Whitney Darkness. ManMan desperately tried to keep up with Shep. Mumphrey did his best to explain the gavotte to Pel. “Don’t they make a lovely couple?” Lisette said, slumping down beside Trickshot and handing him another beer bottle. On the dance floor Bry Kats was swirling Beth Shellett round the room. “Yeah,” agreed the irritating archer. “Sorry about that.” “You’re not strutting your funky stuff?” “I tried strutting earlier with those Barbi Twins,” Carl Bastion confided. “Apparently I don’t have the right credit rating.” He struggled to sit up. “You wanna dance, Laurie?” “Too drunk now,” admitted Lisette. “But we can sit back here and make snotty comments about the others.” “Deal.” “So what’s going on?” Amazing Guy demanded of the Master of the Mystic Crafts. “Where are the Legion? And Mumphrey’s house?” “Mumphrey arranged for a very traditional Christmas,” Xander sighed. “With all the seasonal trimmings, like the testing of the King, and death and rebirth, and sacrifice to stave off the cold. He spoke with Mr Pelznichol, who was technically broken up for spare parts and rebuilt into Father Christmas a century and a half back, but who’s stuck around as an echo in the Faerie Realms. He wanted to let his guests see some truths, to give them the gift of second chances. And that’s always very dangerous.” “This Pelznichol betrayed them?” AG suggested. “No, not really,” the sorcerer supreme answered. “That would be me. And an ambitious demon-lord called Grimpenghast. We wagered on whether the heroes would survive the test ramped up to its rawest form.” “What do you mean? What did you do?” “Grimpenghast replaced one person in the manor with an agent of his. The estate is sealed now, to physical travel, to teleporters, to magic, whatever; until the test is done. The Lord of Misrule is unleashed to bring madness and murder. So either the heroes find him and stop him and I win my wager, keeping a huge and powerful evil off the playing field for a while…” “Or?” “Or everybody gets killed off one by one until there’s only one, all alone, and evermore shall be so.” Bright and early on Christmas morning Asil woke, coaxed the ancient shower to life, dressed, and went to check if Sir Mumphrey was up and ready to co-ordinate the Christmas presents. She frowned a little when she realised Mumph’s bed hadn’t been slept in, and chided herself for denying her doody-head clonal-matter donor a moment of happiness with somebody worthwhile for once. So Asil slipped into Mumphrey’s study to check the lists herself. She knew who’d been naughty and nice. Then she saw the body slumped over blood-soaked desk. Knifey’s hilt was protruding from the dead man’s back. “Mumphrey!” she cried, dropping her clipboard and running over to the corpse. There was a murder at Wilton Manor. And one of the people gathered there was a murderer. Yes, there’s a next damn issue: It’s whodunit time, with sixty-odd suspects and as many detectives and a killer on the loose. Recriminations, decisions, home truths, blatant lies, love, hate, and figgy pudding. The current run of Untold Tales concludes with UT#201: And Evermore Shall be So, or The Season of Murder. Due on 1st January 2005! If anybody should wish to offer any additional scenes to slot into the narrative above at some point they are of course most welcome. I’ve already been informed of a couple of intended stories, and when they’re posted I’ll link to them here when this page is archived. Additional Scenes: You Shall Go To the Ball by the Hooded Hood Paradiopolis Knights by Hatman It Was Beginning To Smell A Lot Like Christmas by Killer Shrike Side Dishes in the Feast by AnimeJason Overheard in the Revels by Killer Shrike Outcasts by Amazing Guy The Baroness - Part 18: A Visit to Sir Mumphrey's by JJJ The Baroness - Part 19: A Visit to Sir Mumphrey's (Part II) by JJJ The Baroness - Part 20: A Visit to Sir Mumphrey's (Part III) by JJJ The Baroness - The Conclusion of Part 20: A Visit to Sir Mumphrey's (Part IV) by JJJ A Chad & Ronnie Christahannaqwanza Spectacular, Part 2: Euro Trip or Small Spaces & Different Places! by L! A Chad & Ronnie Christahannaqwanza Spectacular, Part 3: Guest Stars Galore! by L! Side Dishes, part 2: A meeting, and a little impromptu introduction by AnimeJason Side Dishes, part 3: Sensitive and Daring! by AnimeJason A Little Touch of Caphan in the Night by the Hooded Hood Hark the Herald Footnotes Sing: Shropshire is a green, hilly county on the west of England, bordering North Wales. You can get some idea of the countryside by looking at http://www.historic-uk.com/StayUK/HeartofEngland/CountryHouses/hawkstone.jpg http://www.churchstretton.co.uk/images/snow.jpg and http://www.wrenbury-village.co.uk/graphics/snow/0075.jpg Wilton Manor might well resemble Soulton Hall, which looks like this: http://www.soultonhall.fsbusiness.co.uk/Images/fadedwatercolour.jpeg Chalk men, once familiar hill-carvings in Britain, are now rare, but here’s an example from Wiltshire: http://www.countrycottagesonline.com/Wlitshire/Chalk-carving-Wiltshire.jpg and another here: http://www.adamandlyn.co.uk/images/dorland23.jpg Mumphrey’s car looks like this: http://www.1motormart.com/gallery/55rr02.jpg or this http://www.rrec.ch/rolls/rolls/Bilder/2b-rr.jpg These things still sell in the £100,000/$200,000 range. Mumph, a creature of habit, just hasn’t got round to changing it. Sorceress’ Lineage: The truth of Whitney’s parentage as the daughter of Xander the Improbable and of her grandparentage on her mother’s side as the daughter of Mumphrey and Hagatha was revealed in UT#41: The Last Will and testament of Hagatha Darkness Sir Jay Boaz: Given that Hatty’s a subject of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second of Canada it seemed logical that his heroism would be rewarded in the traditional way. It shouldn’t make any tangible difference to Jay’s life, but it did mean had to do the kneeling thing with the sword. Really. Jenni and Trudi conceived their plan to enter superhero society with the help of the unsuspecting Hatman in the Hatman/Alcheman Limited Series, and Dancer helped them on their way in the brief follow up linked in the text of the story. Cressida and thuddy viewed a possible horrific future in UT#193: The Worst Five Minutes. This chapter represents their departure from the regular cast for a while, or until poster-thud emerges anew. Josh Clement was crippled by the actions of Goldeneyed in UT#111: Last Run of De Brown Streak. Lisette, G-Eyed’s ex-girlfriend was abused in UT#142: The Destruction of Laurie Leyton. Beth Shellett has fond feelings for both DBS and Bry. Christopher Waltz, Lisa’s son, is safely tucked away in the Silver-Age Dimension where Andy Dean also grew up, until such time as poster-Chris asks otherwise. Nine Sparkling Caphans: The slave girls from Caph were rescued from the Slimy Slaver Lovetoad during the Transworlds Challenge and were committed to Visionary’s care for a time. Fast-learner Miiri made her memorable farewells to Vizh in UT#190: Heart’s Blood, or Weird Romance Yuki Shiro makes her Untold Tales debut with this chapter. A cyborg with a human brain, Yuki has recently begin working as a private investigator in Gothametropolis. She has some previous association with Al B. Harper, not least that he appears to have played some major role in designing or building her robotic body. Pelzichol is one of a number of variant names for a Christmas sprite in northern European tradition (also variously called Bellsnickle, Black Pete, Green Jack etc.). In Holland for example, Knecht Ruprecht is a sooty gnome that accompanies Saint Nicholas (dressed in Bishop’s robes and a halo) on his rounds. St Nick catechises the children of a household, then Pete gives them gifts from his sack or beats them with his club depending on their answers. Saint and savage appear to have combined in the modern Father Christmas. Even older traditions have a fur-skinned wild man leaping after children and grabbing the village maids with his seasonal hunting cry of “Ho ho ho!” Baroness von Zemo’s dislike for Shazana Pel is conceived because of Pel’s recent public liaison with Josh Clement, De Brown Streak, whom Elizabeth Sweetwater had also previously dated in recent episodes of the Baroness’ own series. Hell hath no fury… CSFB!, Hatman, Vizh and the Juniors likewise encountered the Baron in her own series. Uhunalura, Princess of the Abhumans, was murdered by the Hellraiser Phlegethor the Pestilent in UT#192: Full of Sound and Fury The Wassailers follow an ancient tradition (also reflected in the American Hallowe’en Trick or Treat) of turning up demanding tribute for performance with the threat of anarchy if they are not well received. “Green Grows the Rushes-O” is a very ancient song, and many people have claimed to “rediscover” the meaning of its repeated verses (like the Twelve Days of Christmas, this song starts with One Alone, and builds all the way up to Twelve Apostles). Those wishing to hear a rather jazzed-up modern rendition of Green Grow the Rushes-O are directed to http://www.mission.com.pl/download/green_grow_the_rushes.mp3 Mummer’s Plays come from the same tradition that brought forth the Morris Dance and the Pantomime, and fed the Renaissance Commedia Del Arte and the Court Masque. They were usually played by artisans at festive occasions, and were led by the Fool (who has license to mock anything, even a great king). The version presented here is drawn from diverse sources and has been recast by me, but I hope it wouldn’t seem unfamiliar to those original performers who rehearsed the ancient cycle of life and death and fertility and rebirth on those cold winter nights long ago. The Guest List Visiting Sir Mumphrey Wilton for the Feast of Christmas are: Ms Lisa Waltz, the first lady of the Lair Legion NTU-150 (Jamie Bautista), cyborgs millionaire industrialist inventor spiffy (Mark Hopkins), president of Badripoor Visionary, the possibly-fake man Yo, pure genderless thought-being Donar, hemigod of thunder Hatman (Jay Boaz), the capped crusader CrazySugarFreakBoy! (Dreamcatcher Foxglove), the wired wonder Goldeneyed (Bryan Katz), tormented teleporter The Sorceress (Whitney Darkness), witch Nats (Bill Reed), the flying phenomenon Trickshot (Carl Bastion), the irritating archer The Probability Dancer (Sarah Shepherdson) Cressida, the wonder worm, and her allegedly-human host dull thud Falcon (Sam Wilson), Agent of SPUD The Manga Shoggoth, loathsome elder spawn Mr Epitome (Dominic Clancy), the paragon of power The Librarian (Lee Bookman), of IOL sector 7272 Al B. Harper, archscientist De Brown Streak (Joshua Clement), mutate speedster Asil Ashling, Mumphrey’s amanuensis Hallie, formerly a computer sentience and now human Fleabot, a robotic flea Beverly Campbell, spiffy’s secretary Hounddog, spiffy's hound dog Harlagaz Donarson, demihemigod of thunder Kerry Shepherdson, Visionary’s ward, Dancer’s little sister Trudi Wooster, Hatman’s girlfriend Jenni Wooster, Hatman’s other girlfriend Meggan Foxxx, CSFB!'s mother, and her baby Oliver April Alice Apple, CSFB!’s girlfriend Lisette (Laurie Leyton), Goldeneyed’s ex-girlfriend Bethany Shellett, Goldeneyed’s potential girlfriend Temporary Death (Tricia), Nats’ guest Desert Rose, and Areei her talking scimitar Pigeon (Julia Thompson), Falcon’s girlfriend Belinda Wilson, Falcon’s little sister Ebony of Nubilia, High Priestess of the Shoggoth Cult Miss Framlicker, Manager of Extraordinary Endeavour Enterprises Amy Aston, engineer at Extraordinary Endeavour Enterprises Yuki Shiro, cyborg detective Glory, the mutt of might Fashion Accessory (Samantha Bonnington), trainee superheromodel Ham-Boy (Fred Harris), earth’s meatiest hero Hacker Nine (Zack Zelnitz) techno-anarchist Hagatha Darkness, witch, Sorceress’ grandmother Keiko Chinato, dimensionally displaced assassin ManMan (Joe Pepper), Knifey-wielding Elvis impersonator, and Knifey Shazana Pel, exiled Thonnagarian warrioress Nitz the Bloody, Priest of Zeku Deela of Caph Sayaana of Caph Philaana of Caph Noona of Caph Miiri of Earth Odoona of Caph Losiira of Caph Luuma of Caph Kaara of Caph The Hooded Hood, archvillain Baroness Elizabeth Dewdrop Sweetwater von Zemo Con Johnstantine (gatecrasher) Xander the Improbable, Sorcerer Supreme (absent) Cleone, his familiar (absent) Sage Grimpenghast, the Master of Ignorance and the Teacher of Deceptions And a full cast of mummers, jugglers, acrobats, and sundry entertainers and functionaries The CSFB! Appendix: Kirk reminded me yesterday that there was some material I might use in the story above which originated at the time of April’s first meeting with the Lair Legion. Unfortunately I didn’t have the time to integrate it into the text, but I re-present it here should anyone care to imagine such conversations happening between the paragraphs: Some April-related quotes were already been posted on the board – by you, me and various other posters - but not as part of any actual stories, yet. Hint, hint.  __________ Lisa L. Waltz: Don't be afraid to call on Visionary for any humiliating menial tasks you might have. And of course, you're welcome to borrow any of my wide range of recreational equipment while Dream's off saving the Earth ... April: Thanks, but I'm not used to being waited on, and while I appreciate you being generous enough to loan me your assortment of appliances, I've already acquired a considerable collection of my own. Besides, nothing against you, but I've never been able to enjoy a toy after another girl has already used it. It just feels slightly squicky, even to my relatively liberal and lesbian-tolerant sensibilities, you know? Librarian: Yes, we retain a full set of your works in the Moon Public Library, even those somewhat blatantly commercial variant covers. April: Blame my publisher at the time for that particular stunt. Not that it did anybody any good, since it still didn't help me move any more issues per month than Dork Tower or Box Office Poison. Don't get me wrong, it's gratifying as all hell to know that somebody's preserving my work for posterity, but I have to admit, it's a bit depressing to realize that I probably have a broader audience among the outer space aliens who visit your library than I do among the mostly human patrons of the comic book shops here on planet Earth. dull thud: Smell from ma room? There's nae smell from ma room. Ma socks would ha' eaten anything that was smelling in ma room. April: Whatever, Ewan McGregor. I mean, I'm only a temporary guest here myself, so whatever wacky Trainspotting-style antics you and Sick Boy and Begbie might be up to in your own room is entirely your own business. Tell you what; you burn me off some CDs of Flint Michigan and the Kurtzberg Dots from their last concert in GothaMetropolis York, and I won't complain when you start going through withdrawal-induced hallucinations of dead babies crawling on your ceiling to the strains of mid-90s drum-and-bass music. Deal? Miss Framlicker: It's just possible you might be dysfunctional enough to survive in the Lair Mansion. April: Uh-huh. Sounds to me like somebody could use a little stress reliever. Just out of curiosity, how much do you know about superhero slash fan fiction? I find that reading and writing it, usually with one hand at the keyboard and the other ... *ahem* otherwise occupied, is tremendously helpful in easing my own tensions. Ever since Dream's been away, I've churned out an unholy shitload of CrazySugarFreakBoy!-and-Hatman man-on-man smut stories, all of which are conveniently archived online. Flapjack: Er, sure. The, um, the strip-search and nude ID photography's an integral part of our security procedures. If it bothers you I can keep the rubber glove off. April: *Sigh* I guess I've met the Lair Legion's equivalent of the Toad in the X-Men, then. If you're gonna lay your hands on me in anything like as familiar a fashion as you're suggesting, though, your nasty ass had better start looking one hell of a lot more like Ray Park, as opposed to your current uncanny and unfortunate resemblance to Richard O'Brien as Riff Raff from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Keiko: I suppose if she knows what she is getting into I can only wish her luck. Perhaps she will succeed in mellowing him a bit. Al B. Harper: Hello ... would you like a jelly-baby? *Smokes bubble-pipe* Vizh: I don't know that Vizh would be particularly surprised by either her presence or her choice in boyfriends. I suppose he would be a bit confused with the "we just have lots of sex with only each other, but aren't boyfriend-girlfriend" thing, but he's not a judgemental kind of guy (especially having known Lisa as long as he has). AG: Tricky would just think they're perfect for each other, because they're both nerds and they're both whacked in the head. AG would think she was nice enough and should be a great stable woman for Dream. He would wish them all the happiness in the world because he knows Dream deserves it. Annabelle: What? You mean you are not really a Gecko? You just create something called a comic book, with a gecko in it? Darn. You smelled so tasty too. *Disappears into the night* Hatman: I think Hatman would be wary at first. Dream can be naive at times and Hat would be worried that this woman might be trying to take advantage of his partner. After getting to know her a bit, though, he'd ease up and be happy for him. I think, anyway. Yo: Yo would love her the moment he sees her, because she makes CSFB! happy. However, Yo dosen't get the meaning of sex, girlfriends and stuff completely yet ... Jonah: He would question her sanity and recommend a good psychotherapist. "Harrumph. I understand you are spending time with that buffoon? My sincerest condolences. "Has your physician recommended a course of treatment for you? "He hasn't? Let me recommend the Giddy Institute, out in Dullard's Corner. They've had excellent results with difficult cases. "A pleasure talking to you. Now, pardon me, I have to discuss traffic light timing with somebody. Good-bye." __________ And two others that I doubt you will be able to use now, except perhaps as part of a flashback sequence. __________ Uhuna: Those pictures you distributed of sex with CrazySugarFreakBoy! were very instructive. I asked Nats about that but he said really we should wait until the minister had finished preaching. April: Um, to be honest, I didn't really choose to release any of those photos. Me and Dream just kind of happened to, you know, get in the mood when we were out in public, maybe once or half a dozen different times, and the friendly neighborhood paparazzi pretty much took care of the rest, I guess. Still, I'm oddly flattered that those snapshots were useful to someone, beyond simply serving as either masturbation material or as a cheap means of boosting magazine sales. Heh. You've sort of got a Crystal of the Inhumans meets Anya from Buffy the Vampire Slayer thing going on, don't you? It's very cool, actually. The world needs more sexually liberated super-chicks. Mindy Pyrite: So why aren't there more positive representations of cute intelligent girl robots in your comics? April: Well, to be fair, I don't think I've marginalized cute intelligent girl robots in my comics any more than I have cute intelligent boy robots. In both cases, I simply haven't been able to come up with any compelling stories to tell about them, is all. I mean, you know, aside from all of the shameless self-insertion fanfics I've posted online, in which my Mary Sue character typically gets sexually serviced rather rigorously by Jude Law's Gigolo Joe android from A.I., but that represents an entirely separate medium and genre of storytelling altogether. __________ Since most of these quotes were collected during the Transworlds Challenge, I expect that they might require some minor tweaks to make them appropriate to the current timetable, but, what the hell, I'd say there's still some usable material in there. The Hooded Hood's Homepage of Doom Who's Who in the Parodyverse Where's Where in the Parodyverse Original concepts, characters, and situations copyright © 2004 reserved by Ian Watson. Other Parodyverse characters copyright © 2004 to their creators. The use of characters and situations reminiscent of other popular works do not constitute a challenge to the copyrights or trademarks of those works. The right of Ian Watson to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the UK Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. |
| Follow-Ups: |
|
| Echo™ v2.4 © 2003-2005 Powermad Software |
|
|
