Dedicated to those ladies of dark aspect, without whom this nonsense would have ceased some time ago, but whose support, and encouragement ..... erm.... bullying, terrorising, and general menacing have allowed, or forced rather, me to continue.

So far: The party, boosted by The F-team, and Selene are partying in the "king's kidney" tavern, unaware that Nynaeve and Faile are hot on their trail, intent on halting their fun. Lan has succesfully dispersed the Elastic Band, a trio of teenage musicians, but now our boys face a greater danger.....

Shadar Haran stood before the pit of doom. "The chosen weaken and falter, Great Lord."
NO SHIT, SUPERFADE! NOT ONLY DO THEY FALTER, THEY JOIN AL'THOR FOR A PARTY!
"I shall take a handful of Mindtrap's Great Lord, and go bring them to heel...."
NO SHADYKINS.... NO NEED FOR THAT. THE AL'MEARA GIRL HAS UNWITTINGLY UNLEASHED A FAR GREATER HORROR THAN ANYTHING WE COULD COME UP WITH.
"Worse than our foulest shadowspawn, that we only release in really dire emergencies, Great Lord?"
YES, WORSE THAN THAT.
"Worse than an entire hour alone with David Hasselhoff, Great Lord?"
MMMM.... YES, I THINK WORSE THAN THAT, JUST.
"Worse than the music of Michael Bolton, Great Lord?"
Shai'tan paused, considering. CLOSE, THAT ONE. BUT YES, EVEN WORSE THAN THAT.
Shadar Haran have an involuntary step backwards. "No Great Lord..... Surely you don't mean.... Not her?"
YES, SHADYPOOS. HER. EVEN I COWER IN TERROR BEFORE.......HER. "What shall we do, Great Lord?"
WE MUST KEEP THEM OCCUPIED UNTIL SHE CAN REACH THEM. WHICH OF THE FORSAKEN ARE STILL AVAILABLE?
Shadar Haran brought out a clip-board. "Well, Great Lord, let me see: Ishy, Aginor, Demandred, Rhavin and Lanfear have become the F-Team and have joined the Al'Thor's mob for much partying. Asmodean is pretending to be dead, Great Lord, as you instructed him, until Beidomon get's back with Mazrim Taim from the Isle of Madmen. Mesaana is still pretending to be Verin, and Semirhage is performing in musical world. There's alwaysMoghedien...."
GET REAL. WHAT ABOUT MY SECRET CHOSEN?
"Bela? She's already on another undercover mission, Great Lord."
WHOSE LEFT?
"Well, that leaves.... Balthamel, Great Lord."
REALLY? THAT'S THE BEST I HAVE? I GOTTA GET ME SOME NEW CHOSENS....
"Great Lord, wouldn't the Al'Meara girl have made a formidable chosen?"
TRUST ME, SHADY-WADY, WE DON'T WANT HER ON OUR SIDE. WE WANNA HAVE SOME FUN...... OH AND SHADSY?
"Great Lord?"
FOUND ME ANY SPEECH MARKS YET? I'M GETTING REALLY TIRED OF SPEAKING WITHOUT SPEECH MARKS.
"I'll get right on it Great Lord. Mind you, it could be worse, Great Lord. You could have to speak in italics....."

The Great Lord of the Dark shivered. Out in Thrakandar valley, some people fell over, as people have a way of doing when Great Lords shiver.

DON'T EVEN SUGGEST SUCH A THING, SHADLEPLOP. GO NOW, AND TELL BALTHAMEL TO HAUL HIS ASS DOWN TO THE KINGS KIDNEY TAVERN. TELL HIM, I'LL MAKE HIM NAE'BLIS

Shadar Haran laughed. It sounded like rotting leather. Which, if you think about it, is really quiet. I mean, I threw an old leather coat in a field once, and it took years to rot, I mean y-e-a-r-s, and I never heard a thing. Not a whisper. Still, if it had of made a noise, I guess that's what Shadar Haran's laugh would have sounded like.

"Great Lord, not THAT one again, surely?"
TRUST ME, SHADSA, THEY ALWAYS FALL FOR THE NAE'BLIS LINE.

The Great Lords laughter reverberated around Shayol Ghul.

The Wheel of time turns, and ages come and go and.... (THUNK)

Darkhound: OUCH!
Great Mistress of the Dark: Get on with it, you silly mutt.
Smoke: Yeah, or else....
Darkhound: Alright! Alright already. I'm typing, I'm typing..... (mumbles under breath) honestly, the things a guy has to do to get a bit of peace...
Great Mistress of the Dark: What was that?
Darkhound: Nothing, unholiness. Just working out a plot, that's all.
Smoke: A Plot? Why start now? (evil feminine laughter echoes through the mind........)

Rand: Bugger! I fold! (throws his cards on the table)
Mat: Thom?
Thom: Nah, too hot for me.
Mat: Lan?
Lan: Yeah, I'll see your 5 andoran crowns.... and raise you five.
Mat: Okay, I'll see them. (clink) Perrin, you in?
Perrin: Yeah, I'm in. (tosses 5 crowns onto the pile)
Lan: Alright, Mat, what you got?

[with a broad grin, Mat lays down four queens]

Lan: Smeg! (tosses his cards away in disgust)
Perrin: All I got is this pair of kings....
Mat: Gimme! Gimme! (begins scooping the crowns into his hat)
Perrin: ....and this other pair of kings, too. (grins)
Mat: (going pale, then red, then pale again) YOU... YOU.... YOU...
Thom: (slaps Perrin on the back) Nice one! About time he lost a hand!
Rand: (sits up) What did you say!
Thom: I said it was about time Mat lost a hand - at poker.
Rand: Oh...
Lan: I thought we'd had it when Mat layed four queens.
Thom: The last time Mat layed a queen for real, he thought HE'd had it!

[raucous laughter, except from Mat who glares at Thom. Suddenly the door to the bar flies open. In strides Balthamel]

Balthamel: Well! The Lord Dragon and his drunken sycophants all in place!
Rand: (frowning) What's a sycophant?
Mat: It's a psychotic elephant.
Rand: I'm not a psychotic elephant!
Mat: Well..... you're not an elephant, anyway...
Thom: How can you be Balthamel? You're a woman!
Balthamel: (face reddens) Look, I'll have you know this is one of the best damn bodies that could be found in the borderlands, actually.
Mat: (snicker) Well, it's not a bad body...
Balthamel: Never mind my body! Worry about your own! (points finger)
Lan: Oooh, we're really scared. Here's us, ten in number, the Lord Dragon amongst us, not to mention the F-Team, not to mention the one-power-proof Mat Cauthon, against a forsaken who lost a fight to a plant.
Balthamel: (foaming) Did not! Never did! He got lucky! It.... It was just a flesh wound.....
Lan: (chortle) Yeah, right...(snicker)

[Thom reaches behind him, and holds up a decorative pot-plant]

Thom: Hey Balthamel! Lookey here! (waves plant menacingly)
Balthamel: AAAAARRRGH! (scampers away)
Thom: (sitting back down) That was frightening, wasn't it? (laughs)

[suddenly Lan stands up, wide eyed]

Rand: Lan? Is something up?
Selene: (sultry voice) Oooh, I hope something IS up, Rand....
Lan: I... I.... Something bad approaches. Something.... terrible....
Rand: (stands) Trollocs?
Lan: No, worse... much worse....
Mat: (stands too) Fades?
Lan: Worser.
Perrin: (also standing) Not Faile? Please god, not Faile...
Lan: Worserer!
Thom: What could be worse?
Ishmael: The only thing I can think of is our secretest foulest shadow spawn.
Aginor: Wooohoo! Lalalalal Yes! The Secret ShadowSpawn! The SpiderGranny! chutney-warble-codpiece
Perrin: Wha... What's a SpiderGranny?
Thom: Read Darkhound's note below Perrin. We don't have time...

[*authors note: Not all the shadowspawn created by Aginor have been released on WOTland. This is because some of them were just not particularly... fearsome. Amongst this list, is cousin to the black wind, "The Wet Wind" which as anyone whose ever suffered it can attest, is the worst wind there is. There can also be found the not-so- terrifying VelocerTortoise, which has nasty little teeth, but chases you at 0.001km/hr. Then there is the Sarcastica - a race of creatures who try and destroy your self-esteem with comments about your hair and clothes. Then, there is Horrificus - a creature totally immune to the one power, the true-power, weapons of anykind, ice or fire. It is however, not immune to whistling. A single whistled tune, however quiet, from the smallest child, sends it running back to the blight. However, one creature there is that is so horrible, that the DO has heldit back all this time. The SpiderGranny is a genetic mix of arachnid and elderly grandmother. The resultant monstrosity had eleven legs (8 of a spider, 2 of a granny, one walking stick) and catches you in unescapable webs of knitting or embroidery. When caught, it tortures it's prey with tales of how great things used to be in the old days, occasionly spitting on a hanky and using it to wipe imaginary dirt from the victims face. Sometime's it will force the victim to except discusting sticky sweeties, whispering "don't tell your mother..." The only way to know if a SpiderGranny approaches, is a feint smell of carbolic soap, cold toast and urine. Obviously, the SpiderGranny is being kept by the DO only for emergencies...]

Lan: No.... I don't smell soap, toast or wee-wee. Besides.... this is.....lord help us.... worsererer.
MR D: WHAT CAN BE WORSERERER, FOOL?
Lan: I don't know...Ishy?
Ishy: I... There is something.... what was it... something from another place....
Rand: Come on, think harder!
Selene: (breathless voice) Ooh Randy, yes, think "Harder"....
Ishy: It's on the tip of my tongue....
Selene: Ooooh, Ishy, I just luuuurve the tip of your tongue....
Ishy: I got it! Its.... It's.... ANGELA LANSBURY!
Lan: YES! IT'S HER! QUICK, OUT THE BACK PASSAGE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!
Barman: Erm... my back passage is blocked.
Lan: So! Take a pill!
Barman: No, I meant you can't leave by the back passage. It's full of crates and barrels and other tavernly things.
Lan: Alright.... Quick, gang, hide yourselves!

[Rand and Mat put lampshades on their heads and stand very still. The F-Team dive under the pool table. Lan and Thom dive behind the bar. Perrin puts his head on a table, and puts a beer on his head....]

Lan: (peeking out from behind the bar) Perrin, what are you hiding as?
Perrin: A beer mat.
Mat: (from under lamp-shade) I thought you more of a doormat, Perrin! (snicker)
Lan: Sssshhh! Here she comes!

[door opens....]

AL: I'm Jessica Fletcher. From "Murder She Wrote". Nynaeve Sedai hired me. I'm looking for some men....
Selene: (from under the pool table) Ooooh, aren't we all dear.
Barman: (pointing a shaking finger) You.... your the one who..... every time you arrive, people die! And you always get away with it! No-one ever realises that it's you, framing people! Just so you can write a bloody book! Every family party in america, your there! And someone dies! Just how many "relatives" have you got anyway? (THUNK)

[The barman slumps, a knife hilt sticking out of his forehead....]

Jessica Fletcher: Ooops! A murder! Who could of done it? I'll find out, you mark my words. There's a book in this, I reckon.
Rand: (tries not to sneeze) Errrr... Arrrr.... Ooooh... Hnnn.... Hnnnn. HHHHNN ATCHOOOO!

[*authors note: It is written in the book of clichés, that when any group of people are trying to hide, someone MUST sneeze in a ridiculous manner, giving themselves away. It is also written in the same book that when you are running away, you must fall over stupidly at the worst possible moment....]

Mat: Bugger! (shouts) WE'RE RUMBLED PEOPLE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES! EVERY MAN FOR HIMSELF!
Selene: And maybe a couple for me!

[The tavern empties quicker than the credit balance on a womans credit card... Except for Rand, who fulfills the requirements by falling over. But, as you would expect, he (just manages to get up and escape...]

Jessica Fletcher: Damn it. I forgot to have the police hiding outside, ready to come in when I signalled them. Still, they'll not get far.... There's a SpiderGranny about..... (evil chuckle)

To be continued...

Raina's Hold / Raina's Library / Other People's Humour / Lan's Stag Party