The Chronicles of Lord British

As we all know everything is tied to ancient Egypt. Pharaoh Nephren-Ka summoned - for reasons unknown - Lord British to Earth where he was fascinated with the Ankh-design. British began building pyramids with the scissorhanded demons as enormous storages for sacrificial daggers. After a short period of time however, the Egyptian priests were able to banish the Lord, but only to leave him in stupor in the depths of ancient graves, where he was again awakened by the Tutankhamen's digs. After killing the archealogists - just for status quo - Lord British began haunting the most sensitive minded humans. This however was only the begining as British introduced the Ultimate Devices of Evil to the mandkind, the computers...

The history of Lord British can be traced back to the Creation of the World, in other words five million years back from now, to the time when Lord Britishes were the only species which populated the Earth (Lord Britishes themselves called Earth as Minas Morgul-Tirith).

Lord Britishes levitated above the Earths vast emptiness and plotted their evil plots against the forecoming humans. For the Lord Britishes were - and ARE - able to foresee the Future.
A particulary big and nasty and generally quite shitheaded Lord British called Lord British wanted to become the sole owner of Minas Morgul-Tirith (e.g. the Earth) and to rename the whole place as "Britannia" (however the place would be called as "Sosaria" for a short transition period).
The reason for this was this Lord British's unearthly desire to spread the whole planet with randomly generated sprites. But as long as there were other Lord Britishes in the way, this Lord British called Lord British couldn't do anything about it.

Then this Lord British decided to contact the Great Old Ones from which Lord British asked that they'd annihilate all other Lord Britishes. The Old Ones agreed to this, but they wanted the soul of this Lord British as reward. Lord British accepted the offer.

And so the Great Old Ones came wiggling their wings and destroyed every single Lord British, excluding the one mentioned earlier, with their powerful Battlemechs.
Now British was ready to begin executing his plans. First he would need the help of the Eather's Demons...

Disguised as a long haired creep, Lord British went to negotiate with the Demons about the possible co-operation with Hell.
The situation escalated as rumors spread from the Western Parts of Hell about a lone Warrior who chainsawed Demons with great enthusiasm - and success.
The humanoid shape of the Warrior looked so much alike Lord British that the Leader of the Demons, the Old Goat decided to murder Lord British and make a talisman to keep inside His head out of this British's forehead.
As the Essence of Lord British wasn't inside it's physical form, the Goat succeeded.
Lord British was very aware of this foul play and so when the Warrior finally arrived to assault the Old Goat, British gave the Warrior the unholy mantra of IDCLIP. With direct Mind Control from Lord British the Warrior succeeded to penetrate the Old Goat's head and releasing the physical form of Lord British.
But the Warrior suddenly paniced and fired some shells at British before he could give the Warrior more instructions. The shells caused the failure of few mental organs of Lord British which concluded into a massive psycokinetic explosion which utterly destroyed the Old Goat and would've destroyed British and the Warrior too unless British would've teleported both of them into a Transdimensional Limbo.
Then a thought occured to Lord's mind. As He was in essense a god, he would need an... Avatar.

And so Lord British spoke to the Warrior: "Indeed I am to make you my Avatar!"
The Warrior kneeled before his Lord and sang:
"Praise the Lord in Britanny, and peace to Pixelblobs in Sosaria, whom waggle their hands furiously!"

And so this Pact gave birth to Sosaria and soon after that the Britannia, which both were populated with most peculiar furiously hand-waggling creatures.
And Lord British grinned and the Warrior and his Companions feasted lambs and orangutangs and carps and anchovyes and sloaths and breakfast cereals and jelly fishes.
As the Warrior was emptying the fifth plate o'breakfast cereals Lord British decided to take away the Soul of the Warrior and make him His mindless servant - Avatar.
All the sudden the Warrior started to spasm and hold his stomach.
"It couldna been that bad", Iolo, the Warrior's yes-man, said.
Something was crawling out of the Warrior's stomach! And then the Warrior's lower body exploded into a bloody mess and from there jumped a small blue-skinned man with a white cap and white trousers. Without much of introduction this man ran to Lord British and jumped inside his mouth never to be seen again.
Only Lord British knew that the small man was actually The Warrior's Soul, and now Lord British owned it and with it British could pay his debt to the Old Ones.

Before Lord British was to make The Warrior His Avatar, he decided to test The Warrior's obediance and give him a shitty task Lord British named as "The Quest for The Avatar"...

Lord British had an old friend/enemy/acquaintance who was REALLY Evil, actually equal in Evil with Lord British, and this Being could've even been a great threat to Universe if not for two tiny little things: first, his name was Master and second he had green skin and he favored skin-tight knitwear clothing.
It's clear as day that no one would ever take a guy like this seriously and because of that Master had retired with selfpity and anger to a remote galaxy where he amused himself with numerous throughtly twisted ways.
In the most twisted one, he gathered around him the universes most competent fighters whom he watched with great pleasure as they beat the crap out of each other.
The best thug, Master maimed himself.
And in to this deadly game Lord British enrolled his own Warrior.

And the Warrior was good. From distant past of his, he recalled something which was called "Deathmatch" and using this knowledge this man was unstopable.
With Ankh Drop Kick and Eight Virtues specialkombo he cut down his opponents, and finishing them of with Unnamable Fatalities - "Name? Job? Bye!" and "the Blessing of Lord British", the latter made even Master to awert his eyes in disgust.

And finally Master and Warrior confronted each other. And the Warrior prevailed, staying in the corner and knocking Master with uppercut or legsweep everytime he got too close.
And so performed he, the Warrior, the Arena-Fatality, and so plunged Master to the Whirlwind of Doom which was waiting in the backround.
And so smirked he, Lord British, in the dark passageways, as Everything Was Going According the Plans.

In the mean time four Unspeakable loathesome entities were watching a green being lying in front of them. This being was maniacly trying to stay invisible but for some reason this speciality didn't work anymore.
"Kills him!", Nyarlathotep growled, "We have problems a plenty anyways!"
"I would like..." began Shub-Niggurath.
"We know what you'd like! You blody hermaphrodites can't think a moment about anything else!" Hastur screamed in disbelief.
"My children", Azathoth declared, and his handless, legless and brainless whistle blowers played out a short, out-of-tuned fanfar.
"Oh no! Old idiot on the lose again", Nyarlathotep whispered to Hastur, but drawed himself out as the Blind Fool's presense directed to him.
"How does he do that?" Nyarlathotep wondered.
"Mortal", Azathoth called Master.
Master opened his eyes slightly and quickly shut them again.
"We are weakening", Azathoth said grimly, his whistle blowers played out a unrecognisable tune.
"We are not remembered anymore. In million years we have made only one soultrade, and even then Lord British tricked us. We got a puny human soul which Tsathoggua ate without saying a word to us. We need someone to guard our legacy - a Guardian, as is said in the language of the Dark Bringer.
"Would you want to be Guardian, Master? Or would I rather choose..." Azathoth directed his presense to Shub-Niggurath, who was
just laying on the floor and drooling. Or, I HOPE It's drooling, Azathoth thought.
Azathoth began considering Shub-Niggurath, the one that reminded Goat too little and yet too much.
In the end the decision wasn't really hard at all...

"Will I now get to be Avatar?" Warrior asked British almost over eagerly.
"You sure will! I'll better go and notify my demo-- erm.. servants to began the preparations for your sacrif-- uhh... seremony", Lord British answered hoping that Warrior wouldn't see through his thinly veiled lies.
"Radical!" Warrior cried enthusiasticly.
Lord British laughed. That idiot has only INT of 12, he'll never realize the TRUE nature of MATTERS! No that Master's gone no one - NO ONE - dares oppose ME!
British ordered two Brown Moongates to open up, and thus He and Warrior entered thru them to the green soil of Britannia.

Meanwhile in the deepest pit of Hell, Goat-Who-Has-Thousand-Young was cursing it's bad luck.
"Oh, Bugger me! Bugger-Bugger-Bugger poor me..." cursed the Goat under his breath. All of the Goats young started to mimic it in cacophony, and soon the 4th Hell's Temple of Suffering filled with infernal "Bugger!" screams.
"Shut the fuck up, brats!" Goat spat to it's thousand-numbered Offspring and soon it was silent again.
Goat looked straigt in the eyes of the Old Bugger, Goat's unholy Father, the King Hell.
"Thou called me?" Old Bugger whispered and yet screamed, softly but still loudly, pleasantly but unpleasantly. That was the nature of Him, the Old Bugger.
"It was kinda accident..." Goat stammered.
"You know that I don't leave my favourite hobby, Tormention of the Sinful and travel here from the Burning Lake, lightly!" Old Bugger raged, yet groaned.
"I have hard time too you know! First I get to be the single parent of thousand and the the Great Old Ones kick me out from their plottings with their tentancles. I'll never get to be the Overlord of Britannia!" Goat replied miserably.
The Offspring started to mimic their Father's speech again in Nameless way. This began to eat both Goat's and Old Bugger's nerves.
"Shut up or you'll quiet down forever!" both of them yelled, except Old Bugger, who gasped at the same time. How ever this quieted the thousand headed Offspring again.
Old Bugger searched His memory banks for pieces of information which might help His Son. And finally He found something:
"Son. Remember the time when we went to picnic to the frozen part of the Hell? You saw that Vision of Earth, where Lord Britishes levitated above the depths of emptiness, Am I right?" Old Bugger asked, yet stated, and then added, "Ofcourse I am!"
Goat nodded it's head.
"You wanted a Lord British yourself and I gave you that big and ugly Lord Blackthorne -Lord British. I believe you still have him here somewhere?"
Goat's face lit up.
"Yes indeed! I have it in my drawer there!" Goat's all six-hundred-and- sixty-six brainlobes were ready to burst apart as they processed all the possibilities that this new advantage would give.
Old Bugger grinned, yet winced. This Goat will someday become a True Beast, Old Bugger thought.
"So we'll send this Blackthorne-creature to ambush that Lord British-creature and the banish British down to the Underworld beyond the Great Darkness...!"
All the thousand young of Goat started to howl the most Vile and Gruesome Spells and Curses in honor of their Father and Grandfather.
Old Bugger couldn't help to think that Everything Was Going According The Plan. And Lord British would not be alone in his prison - oh no! I'll pay him a visit he'll never forget.

And so Lord Blackthorne successfully ambushed Lord British when he break on thru from the Other Side and step out from the Moon Gate. Before British even realized what was happening he was laying on the cold stony floor of his Underworld prison.

Blackthorne stripped British from his powers and placed them in to a small Sandalwood Box which he cleverly hide behind a secret passage in the roof of Castle of Lord British.

Warrior was quite stunned by all this. He was alone, helpless and most of all - HE STILL WASN'T AVATAR! And this pissed him off. And when Warrior got pissed off, someone would have to pay, as many of the dead inhabitants of Hell would be happy to confirm.

Warrior stepped thru a portal which had glowing runes running along it's sides. The runes formed only a single word: "Nightmare"
Warrior laughed.
He blowed up three tigerlike creatures and one gogo-girl with a pipebomb, growling at the same time with deep voice: "Let God sort'em out!"
He leaped across a great, spike filled chasm, hit the opposing wall of it, got hold of the edge with his fingers and pulled himself up without trouble.
He leaped across a second great chasm, but this time the chasm was much wider and his jump even longer. On the other side he saw tiles which hung in air and beyond there - he knew- was The Magick Mushroom.
He moved in indescribable way in a strange pill infested labyrinth, collecting those pills and escaping from something unknown, against which he was unable to defend himself.
And finally he was something which moved thru Black Darkness. A single ball bounced between him and a white beam, and that was all that exsisted.
World darkened around Warrior.

When he became consious again after a long, indefinable lenght of time, Warrior realized that he was looking at a face under a white hood.
"Hear me". the face said, though Warrior didn't see that it's lips would've moved at all, but all thing considered Warrior didn't think that this was very relevant at the time.
"You have suffered much in this world, weakened by the detoriation of the Ether. And I fear, alas, that you must suffer a bit more. You must rescue Lord British from Underworlde, or else -- Britannia will be destroyed! And that", the face quickly added, "must not happen.
"I have protected you from Ether and Binded you to Britannia with my magicks. This will slightly lower your performance, but I'm sure that you won't even notice the difference. So go forth now - Britannia awaits!"
"N..N..NAME?" Warrior finally gasped.
The face under the white hood, or was it something BEHIND the face, twisted foully, but face just sighed and said:
"I am Time Lord."
"J-JOB?" Warrior continued.
"Go now."
And thus Warrior found himself laying on the green grasses of a generic moor in Britannia, surrounded by his comrades.
"Lo", Iolo greeted, "It will take six hours of travel to get to the towne of Britain, so we should better make haste if we want to get there before dawn. You, my friend Avatar [Iolo was old, but ahead of his time], have Great Deeds to accomplish."

In the Shrine of Spirituality, Time Lord was gripping the railing with unearthly strenght. Lesser railing - or man - would've crumbled, but the Shrine was of good craftmanship.
"JOB, alright!" Time Lord screamed in the star filled void.
"Fill the emptiness, that's my JOB! Turn ninehundred-and-ninetynine in to one thousand!" Time Lord raged.
He swallowed and beat his fist on the floor of the Sacred Temple.
"As You have pampered my siblings with souls and other stuff, and You never game me anything! Shub-Niggurath. 'Father'. You'll regret that someday! And your pet-Blackthorne will be the first thing you will regret...!"
Time Lord calmed down a bit and even managed to force a smile to his lips.
"And then, the world will know the Might of Drolemit-San! Hah. Hah. Haa!"

And so it happened, that Warrior fetched the Mystic Arms from the center of the Great Lake of Lava in Underworlde and fooled around with Lord Britishes bodyguard demon, Sherry, who was masquerading as a common house mouse. And banished Warrior the vile Lord Blackthorne, and finally ended the imprisonment of Lord British.
As British stared his wannabee-avatar, Warrior, he couldn't help but to think that he couldn't have done this alone -- someone was helping Warrior, and that someone could be a threat to The Plan.

Old Bugger sat in a wardrobe of Lord Britishes jail, watching (but also listening) from a keyhole what was happening in the room, which was that Warrior just opened the locked door. Atleast I'll get them both with a single blow, Old Bugger thought (but also spoke).
"Who was that?" Lord British started.
Old Bugger began to open the wardrobe door...

... Meanwhile back at the Great Old Ones.
The Whistle-blowers would've played out a little tune at this point, but Hastur - who had grown weary of waiting for Azathoth's decision, had eaten them all to pass time.
"Thus I choose Master to be our Guardian. Iä! Vitalis-Nivea Copper Tone!" Azathoth finally declared.
"Snarl!" Shub-Niggurath snarled disappointedly of her defeat.
"GASP!" Hastur yelped, surprised of the decision.
"Wowie!" cheered Master.
"You haven't seen the last of me!" Shub. growled and suddenly disappeared in great green smoke cloud and with a fart-like sound.
"GASP!" Hastur yelped again, still a bit confused.
Guardian (ex. Master that is) rubbed his chin contently. Everything Was - against all odds - Going According The Plan.
Azathoth rubbed his chin (if IT could be called a chin, that is) in content. Everything Was Going According The Plan.
Hastur stared blankly at Azathoth and Master. What did all this mean? he wondered.
Then Azathoth expressed in an Unnamable way that now it was time for Guardian to begin his work.

Old Bugger was just about to leap out of the wardrobe and murder British and Warrior in a most horrible (but yet quite nice) way, when suddenly some strange (yet familiar) feeling entered into Old Bugger's mind.
"Bugger me!" Old Bugger managed to gasp, and yet to whisper, before Guardian spawned into that very same wardrobe and telefragged Old Bugger from here to eternity.
British immediately figured out what was happening and summoned a Golden Moongate where both he and Warrior entered, escaping Guardian. And that was good.
"You can run but you can't hide!" Guardian raged at the flight of Lord British and his yes-man.

"Atleast some things are working as they should", British sneered at his delirial and drunk court jester, Jester.
Jester ofcourse didn't understand a single word which his master spoke as he had his marbles so mixed up that he thought he was in Phantasie II.
Brithish looked grimly at Warrior who was currently pushing a quite large flower-pot around the hallways, attempting to harass guards into corners. This amused Warrior a lot.
Guess I have no option but to make him my Avatar, British sighed. And thus Warrior became Avatar, Lord Britishes mindless servant and cat's paw.
"Avatar, take this ANKH-pendant and with it prove your Avatarity to anyone who believes otherwise", British declared pompously.
"Umm.. erm... I can't really take it..." Avatar muttered as an answer.
"And why is that?!" British asked furiously.
"Well, I have my backpack filled with keys and it just can't hold anymore items", Avatar replied.
"But the keys into a sack so that you have more room in backpack!" British argued.
"That won't work either. You see, I can't carry a ounce more or else I can't move."
"Then you just have to go on adventuring to get your STRENGHT up by one point", British spat.
"Okey-dokey!" Avatar hooted and ran out of the castle to Journey Onward. Without the ANKH.

Just as Avatar got out of the Castle of Lord British, a strange Black Rock started to cover the building, forming a gigantic, black and inpenetratable dome over it. In the background a badly digitized Guardian's laugh started to play out.
"Hey, what is the meaning of this?! I should be INSIDE that Castle when this happens!" Avatar screamed in distress. This shouldn't have happened this way!

Inside, British started as he saw Avatar walking to him. Didn't Avatar just leave the Castle before that awfull Black Rock surrounded this place.
"How's it goin' mr. High-and-Mighty?" Avatar asked nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened.
Before British managed to answer, a great and most of all, red and very ugly and angular disembodied head appeared in their midst.
"Peace to you", the head said.
"Who..?" everyone began, but the head ignored them and continued:
"As my Father has Delivered me, I will Deliver you."
"Wha..?!" everyone asked in dumb surprise.
"Aw, fuck it! I am Guardian and now you're my prisoners and you canna escape! Hahhahaah!", the head suddenly roared coarsely. Then the head disappered.
Everybody in the room exchanged worried glances, all except Avatar, who was secretly grinning.

Outside the Castle, Avatar was banging the Black Rock dome with his fists.
"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"

Lord British was sitting on his throne and biting his fingernails so loudly that the whole hall echoed. This, however, did not seem to be bothering the other people in the castle, of whom LB was seeing three at the moment. One of Avatar's companions, Dupre, whom British considered even more intellectually challenged than Avatar himself, was sitting on the hall floor with some young servant boy and smiling like a loonie. Something in this sight disturbed Lord B, so he kept his eyes firmly on one of his guards, who was walking a peaceful and purposeless circle among the pillars.
"Thank god those are still working," Lord British muttered and watched, how the guard passed by Dupre and the servant. All of a sudden Dupre grabbed the guard's sleeve and said something that sounded to British like "Hello, pretty boy". The guard answered, as it had been taught: "I don't know about that."
"Ah-hah," British observed, "now there's a man Old Goat would have been interested about." Old Goat, Master, the other Lord Britishes... he killed or caused to kill all his possible allies in this situation. Would a new approach to the whole thing be something to think about? And a camouflage? With some good name, like "something of Human". "The Friend of Human"? The Father of Human"? No, something condescending. Perhaps "The..."
Suddenly British's line of thought was cut as noises from the entrance chamber took his attenetion. Absent-mindedly he lifted his gaze from the floor, but this time it wasn't Lady Tory escaping from the clutches of Nystul for a while. No, it was Avatar, sauntering toward him with boots full of mud and clothes dirty.
"I greet thee, noble leader!" Avatar uttered and turned on his heels. There seemed to be something wrong with Avatar, too.
"Ho, why iseth thy blackness so overwhelming?" British expressed his thoughts.
"Well, I am Ethnically Multicompatible. I could be a woman as well," Avatar answered readily.
"Uh-huh. Off you go," Lord British waved his hand vaguely. It could well be that a way to freedom would be found from under the castle, and dungeon-frolicking was what Avatar did best. Yes, it could very well be.

Nyarlathotep took a deep breath once outside the throne room. The fool suspected nothing! Black Rock, the substance the Ancient Ones had used to restrict Britishes in the old times, worked excellently on this individual as well. Soon their Guardian would complete his mission outside, and _then_ nothing would stop the triumph of the Ancient Ones!
Something was climbing up the steel legging of Avatarlathotep. It was Sherry the mouse, the guardian demon to Lord British. The creature dangled playfully on his gauntlet and tried to lick it. Nyarlatotep smiled and scratched the animal from behind the ears. Cute furballs had always been his weak spot.

Outside the castle Avatar screamed to the wind: "From where now?" And Rudyom answered from the bottom of the Black Rock: "From there! Where the crack is, you dunce!"
"How could have I known?" Avatar grumbled, zapping the Black Rock again with Rudyom's Wand. Shamino, his only companion outside the castle and at the moment unsteadily balancing on the Rock with a pick, his left foot and a disintegrating levitation spell, wisely didn't reply.

Gazing from Where Time and Space Don't Exist towards the castle of British, Time Lord was sizzling with rage. He had immediately recognised that the being masquerading as a black-bearded human mage was in reality Shub-Niggurath. Time Lord didn't know why his stepfather had turned against the other Ancient Ones, but it was badly seemed that by aiding Avatar he had aided the hated goat-god. "Somebody will pay for this, and I sure know who!" the Lord of Time erupted.

British gave a puzzled glance to the ceiling, which was ringing weirdly. He had only a few seconds to ponder this phenomenon, before a hole opened into the aforementioned ceiling, and straight under LB's eyes landed one familiar-looking Avatar, his moustached buddy and somehow horrible-feeling mage.
"Boss! O Sire! We'll rescue you!" Avatar ranted cheerfully, but British's gaze was drawn toward the beardy mage. Except that it was no mage.
"S-ss-sub-Nigger-ah!" British managed. Somehow everything was feeling so fuzzy.
"Exactly. YOU BETRAYED US, BRITISH! But I'm not angry," Shub-Niggurath hasted to assure.
"What d-do you want then?" British moaned.
"Only peaceful co-operation," stated Shub-Niggurath and scratched his 'chin' with his 'hoove'.

"They're conferring!" screamed Time Lord in the emptiness. "That does it! Now I'll get them! I've got a spell for that, too! They both use the magic of the Dark Side, and my Fire of Light/Light of Fire-energy will turn it negative! They will be maimed, destroyed!"
"Though," he stopped for a minute to think, "I will feel a bit of it myself. But destroying two will cause nothing but a little headache! All I need to do is gather the energy, and THEN..."

"WHAAAT?" howled the dark Avatar from the other end of the room before British's screwed-up brain could come up with any kind of answer. Everyone turned their faces toward this new Avatar, though the real Avatar and Shamino regretted that as Nyarlatotep regained his true shape.
Nya shambled towards the middle of the room and shrilled: "You won't make it out of this! Et tu, Shub-Niggurath!"
Suddenly air seemed to shimmer next to the throne and a red-skinned, large humanoid stepped out. Its gaze flickered between Shub-Nigguarth and Nyarlathotep, before it finally addressed the latter: "I collected all that magic stuff. Here's Amulet of Yendor and here's Palantír and here's.."
"Guardian, this is hardly the..." Nyarlathotep began, and just then near the doorway of the hall the universe turned inside-out. Avatar and Shamino had difficulties staying upright as they saw the two newcomers.
"I decided to come and have a look, you lot have never been able... what's actually going on here?" Azathoth pronounced eldritchly. Hastur blew a very sulky fanfare with his trombone.
"Listen, I can explain everything," croaked everyone in the room.

And it was that moment that Time Lord appeared in the middle of the room and released the Fire of Light/Light of Fire all over the place.

...
..
.

.
..
...

The palace still shook occasionally, as if to deny what had happened.
"Uh. Quite an experience, no?" Shamino said to Iolo after they had dug Avatar out of the wall and made sure he was in a decent physical, if not mental, condition.
"Lord. British. Lordbritish. Lord. Lord British," Avatar mumbled, staring glassy-eyed into nothingness.
"I wonder what's wrong with him?" Iolo wondered.
"H-he's been through a shock. A bad one," said Dupre who had circled around in the background and, for some reason, blushed. "I-I would know the cure for that. If I could take him to my room?"
Iolo and Shamino exchanged glances, but then shrugged. New things about Dupre were being revealed all the time -- he had heartwarmingly taken care of young servant stricken by a brick as the castle had shook a moment earlier -- and, after a thing like this, the thoughts of neither were actually very Avatar-based.
"If you want to," Shamino said. Dupre companionably took Avatar's shoulder and began to gently lead him across the room.
"I think I'll be off, too," Iolo sighed. "I'm going home. This is no business for an old man to be in."
Iolo also started for the doors, and Shamino was left standing by himself in the middle of the great hall that was damaged in the most mysterious ways. He glanced to his feet, under which some strange force had turned the floor marble into glass. He looked at his image in the shiny surface for a while, and then turned his head toward the doorway.
Iolo had already disappeared, and the Dupre-lugged Avatar was currently passing by the massive double doors. An image of cloaked man had been formed from ash into the doors. Dupre's hand had lowered considerably in Avatar's back, Shamino noted absently. When the two left the room, Shamino went to slam the doors shut and returned to gaze at his mirror image in the floor.
After a moment he started to smile. Then he straightened and strode to the direction of Lord British's private rooms. Especially his wardrobe there.
Everything, Shamino realized, was actually going according to the plan.

Dupre was walking Avatar on a quick pace towards his room. The journey, however, was about to end right there as Jester, the drink-crazed (and otherwise nutty as well) court-jester to the deceased Lord British, blocked the narrow corridor with his essence. Dupre sweared.

Shamino strode into Lord British's bedchamber with light feet. After locking the door after him, he approached the wardrobe squatting in the corner and pulled a Yellow Key from his pocket. It fit the lock.
The wardrobe was filled with eyes. Shamino started, without batting an eyelid, stuffing the eyeballs into his mouth and crunching them, blood dripping out from between his teeth.
As the final sense organ slipped into the gaping maw, Shamino whispered, squeezing his fist (with a bloody trickle of drool streaming across his chin): "I have returned!"

Dupre placed Avatar, who still was in quite a confused state of mind, lying on Avatar's spring-bed, which squaked for a protest. Finally Dupre went to lock, as if for certainty's sake, the door leading into Avatar's room. Then he returned to Avatar's side with a suspicious smile on his lips.
"Listen to me very carefully," Dupre said.
Avatar did nothing, apart from turning his head a little.
"This might sound unbelievable, but I come from the future," Dupre uttered and continued: "You yourself sent me here to warn you in the past, of the dangers come."
Dupre's tale caused Avatar to flinch. The man was obviously losing his mind.
"In the year 2029 Lord British has moved his consciousness into a computer known as the BritaNet and from there judges the living to the dead, with the help of his machine-like minions the Translators."
Avatar gave Dupre an understanding smile. Dupre went on:
"You are leading the humans' resistance movement then and were about to have British by the neck, but then BritaNet decided to sent a Translator into the past to Translate you."
Dupre almost whispered the last two words. Avatar was feeling himself even more embarrassed on the bed.
"Luckily the resistance found out about BritaNet's scheme and you decided to send me to warn yourself."
Avatar gathered his courage and asked, a bit carelessly:
"How the hell do you expect me to believe such crap?!"
Dupre's face darkened.

Shamino, who thus seemed to be Lord British, was watching the goings-on in Avatar's room with his crystal ball.
Soon Dupre would tell Avatar his "secrets" and then Avatar supposedly would be able to prepare for what was to come.
"Little do those mortals know about the all-mightiness of Lord British.." Shamino/Lord British growled.
The Translator was striding towards the door to Avatar's room, and soon the whole nuisance known as Avatar would be out of the timetable, and nothing would prevent Me from becoming the Master of the Universe! British smiled benevolently.

"Before you rescued me, I was imprisoned in the Translators' Translation camp. I've got a scar left by laser beam to prove it!" Dupre hissed. Dupre pointed his finger toward a small spot on his cheek, but that could have been anything from an infected pimple to a nasty-looking mole. Avatar mumbled something indistinct for an answer.
"Remember to keep an eye on Shamino. He is the new incarnation of British," Dupre managed to say before a whole crossbow clip was emptied in his back.
A large, dark shadow had appeared, despite the locked door, in the doorway.
"Nice day for a walk!" the shadow growled in a thick accent.
Fear filled Avatar's mind, as he finally realized the truth in Dupre's words.
The Translator had arrived.

Translator moved out from the shadows. Avatar gasped. The creature somewhat reminded him about guards of the Castle of Lord British, but... Avatar couldn't find word to describe that hideous difference (Super Guard II Turbo, Master - who knew well about matters like this - would've said).
But Avatar was sure about one thing as the deep-blue but alas, blank, eyes turned to him: even "NAME?" would give only a "I don't know about that" as response.
Avatar backed away slowly towards the rear wall while trying desperately to figure out who else than Lord British could he pray upon. But suddenly a blood-chilling scream echoed from the passageway, and Translator doubled over as something small but forceful was stabbed in his back.
"A Elbereth Gilthoniel, silivren penna miriel o menel aglar elenath!" Jester cried and pounced Translator's back with his fists - and even hitting it now and then.
As the Grotesk couple trashed in the middle of the room Avatar decided self-sacrifiously to let Jester have all the experience-points from the killing of Translator, and dashed towards the exit. But he stumbled on the corpse of Dupre which was lying on the floor and made a involuntary sommersault in the air, flying straight into the passageway and thru a window there to the court yard outside.

Iolo brushed his horse and was quite surpised when Avatar came thru the stable's ceiling and crashed to the floor.
"My, my", Iolo croaked, "Was Dupre too harsh for your liking, aye?"

British cursed coarsely. It's always the same!
He jumped up from his chair and ran out the passageway, intending to end Avatars life even if he had to feed him his intestines in two inch slices.
Nystul, the Wizard of the castle - mainly upkept for PR-reasons, stopped British with a paralyze-spell.
"Stop! Eh? Oh, you are that weasely Shamino, even though you're using Britishes clothes! What's going on? What are all these disturbances in Ether?" Nystul questioned.
Before Nystul blinked an eye, British freed himself from the paralyzation and would've showed Nystul some REAL Magicks if not an alien, but strangely familiar force hadn't gotten hold of him.
Britishes face turned black and he started howling unearthly words:
"Iä! Nyarlathottepfckkrgh! Iiiiäää N-n-nyarlatthhott-tepp!"
Nystul stood still horrified. This was something totally new. This man did irritate him, yes, and even the proverb said that "Do not meddle with the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and easily angered."
And wasn't it Nystul's duty as a Good Wizard, to protect this feeble-minded peasant from his own hatred?
Content with his own logic, Nystul wasted no time in teleporting himself to the Castle's stables. It was wise to keep himself as far away from a that poor fellow, as he, Nystul, might even lose his temper. Vesper should be beautiful at this time of the year...

The Structure stood on a featureless moor, as featureless as the Structure itself. The Strucuture was coal-black and cube-shaped, it had no doors nor windows. Near it was a sign which said in big print: "YOG - Connecting People" and below that with smaller print: "We know the Portal. We are the Portal. We are the key to the Portal."
Inside the strange Structure, occured something which was not seen in many millenia.
"You boys were a little indiscreet weren't you, huh?" YOG asked in jovial tone.
"Aye, guess we were", muttered Hastur in response. Hastur was in fact consentrating on retrieval of his trombone from one of his many bodycavities - and mourning for his tentancle which was turned into crepe paper.
"Indiscreet it was, Has my friend", YOG declared and continued, "We should do something, hehe, isn't that so Has? We are kinda like one big family, right?"
Hastur nodded.
"But hey, we should make a plan of a sort, before doing something I mean, hehe."
YOG drew a vial of red liquid from the depths of his ebon desk, dipped his tentancle in it and began to write with it on the black board beside him.
"Where are we?" YOG named the first paragraph which he had drawn.
"Hastur", he wrote, "Plain of Leng."
"YOG", was the next paragraph, and after that he wrote a equal-sign.
"And then what? Ah, Nyarlathotep, good ole' Nyatse. Where's Nyatse?"
"I dunno. I haven't seen him since that.. THING occured. But just before that loonie appeared, Nya was about to imprison British. I think he --"
"Okey-dokey, I read you", YOG broke Hastur and drew an smiley-face beside Nyarlathotep's name and beside that an question-sign.
"And then mister boss himself, Azathoth! Ya seen Aza, hehe?"
Hastur began absent-mindedly chewing on the crepe paper. Damn Yog "YOG" Sothoth with his "bi-directional influence-exchange". Damn that madman in white robes with his unstable energies. Damn Shub-Niggurath with his traitorous plans and bad family relations. And DAMN Lord British! Iä!

"For the last time: Are you conspirating with the Resistance?"
"But Bill, can I use the new 32-bit applications?"
Lord British sighed, twise. This wasn't leading anywhere - Jester wouldn't break.
Avatar had disappeared, and so had - so it seemed - Nystul.
Nyarlathotep was still alive. And by thinking Nyarlathotep, British remembered the Great Old Ones. Surely they were alive too, Somewhere.
"Everything Is Going According The Plan. Everything Is Going According The Plan", British suggested himself as he walked out of the dungeon, followed by his Translator. British admitted that he had seen better days.

The carriage rolled thru the rain and darkness of the Britannian night.
Iolo sat quietly with the reins and Nystul stared at the blackness solemnly, muttering parts of the story which Avatar had told him aloud. Avatar himself sat at the rear, watching the road behind, which was lit up by random lighting bolts.
Avatar was feeling horrible, thanks to the Nystul's free Intelligence- training. But now he Understood. Atleast much more than before. Much more than he would've wanted. Good-bye Shamino. Good-bye Dupre.
He dug out the ANKH-pendant under his armour and looked at it, then threw it to the side of the road.
Good-bye Lord British.

The ANKH laid on the muddy ground. Thunder roared. Rain beated the ground like a fevered sadist. Avatar's band had vanished into the darkness with their carriage.
Lightning struck into a tree nearby with tremendous boom, and cut it to half. Soon a second lightning struck right beside the ANKH.
ANKH began to shine a sickly green, perverted, light.
A third, increadibly powerful lighning struck right into the ANKH and suddenly a great, red hand bursted out of the ground, shattering the ANKH into tiny shards. A giant red humanoid crawled out from the mud.
The rain intensified.
The wind howled.
Guardian had returned.

"Me thinks I saw hint of green light back there", Avatar said to Iolo, who was currently picking his nose.
"Twas probably just a Subspace Anomaly, nothing to worry thee", Iolo answered, "If thou reconfigure the plasmarelays into metaphasic induction thou shouldn't have any problems."
I'd better not push the subject on, Avatar thought and switched the subject, "Where were we going to anyway?"
"To Rovaniemi. There's a biggest resistance cell on this side of Mississippi", Iolo replied with an odd tone.
"Iolo, what's wrong with thee? Why art thou speaking like that?" Avatar asked, with fear rising inside him.
"N-nothing. What makes thee think that there's something wrong with me?"
"Why art thee holding a banana peel over your eyes? What's going on Iolo?"
Iolo didn't answer.
"Fine! Don't answer then! But I'll get those answer from thee, one way or another!" Avatar spat.
But where's Nystul? Avatar soon realized that the carriage was empty, besides him and Iolo.
"Where's Nystul?"
Iolo muttered something gibberish in response and realligned the banana peel.

Time Lord was dying. Damn the Fire of Light/Light of Fire! Damn Lord British! Damn Great Old Ones! Damn the World! Time Lord cursed, as that was about the only thing he was capable right now. Why did this happen? he asked himself.
As to answer his private question, Shamino materialized in front of Old Timer Lord.
"Sh-Shamino?" Time Lord gasped in surprise.
Shamino grinned devilishly.
"You're getting too old, Old Man", 'Shamino' said, baring his sharp teeth.
"Lord British!" Time Lord gasped again.
"Indeed. But look who I brought with me; a new friend", Shamino/Lord British exclaimed.
"Translator! T-101 model!" Time Lord screamed, "You can't do this to me! You can't!" Time Lord begged.
But in vain...
The manical laughter of Lord British and Time Lord's screams of anquish filled the Shrine of Spirituality.

Day dawned.
The rain had stopped but dark clouds were still hanging in the sky.
A single horse pulled carriage was approaching slowly the towne of Rovaniemi. An odd pair - a warrior dressed in heavy armor and a elderly man with a banana peel over his eyes - sat on the carriage. Guards let the pair thru the towne gates.
Avatar began wondering how Iolo could drive the carriage even though he had the banana peel obviously blocking any visual contact with the road. Avatar had once asked this, but Iolo had answered something bull about "EM-transmissions".
"That's the club-house of the Resistance. We should leave the carriage here", Iolo stated. After this Iolo stopped the carriage and jumped off. Avatar soon followed.
"Oi! Wait for me!" someone yelled from the back of the carriage.
"Nystul?" Avatar asked dumbly.
Nystul kicked Avatar's butt and therefore canceled the effect of his invisibility-spell.
"Umm, I tried to cast the cable-tv -spell, but I remembered one spell syllapse wrong, and it turned into an invisibility spell. Shit happens, I know.." Nystul explaned.
Avatar smiled weakly, but Iolo just stood there quietly.
"I think something is wrong with Iolo", Avatar whispered to Nystul, and pointed at the old-timer who was just repositioning his banana peel, "He has acted weirdly for two days."
"It must be the warp-frequencer's coupling-dilation", Nystul said cryptically.
Avatars heart skipped a beat.
"You boys wait here while I... I ask a question from that guard over there.." Avatar said quickly and waved at a guard standing in watch on the other side of the street.
"Make it so", both Iolo replied.
Avatar faced the guard. Guard just stared blankly.
"Name?" Avatar asked.
"I am a security officer", guard answered.
"Job?" Avatar questioned.
"To seek out new life and civilizations. To boldly --"
Avatar couldn't stand any longer. Screaming in terror he ran back to his companions.
Just as he was about to get hold of himself again, Nystul stated:
"I sense great anquish in you, Avatar."
Only the tough avatar-training prevented Avatar from crubling right there.
Iolo was already knocking the Resistance cell's door. The door had a plaque and it read with gold-leaf letters:
"Resistance HQ", but this had been striked out with a black ink and replaced with a single word:
"Fellowship"

G. Roddenberry's summoned being walked back and forth inside the black featureless castle. Hastur "Has" stared at this with his fifth eye, somewhat intrested in the movement.
YOGi "bear" was grinned with all of his fifty-and-seven mouths. His plan of enslaving Britannia with Roddenberry's help was working perfectly. Already 27 per cent of Britannians spoke Technobable smoothly without flincing an eye, which meant that their soul had been transfered to the Great Old One's Recreational Fund in full.
When whole Britain had joined this "Fellowship", which sole purpose was to install Technobable into the minds of the peasants (which would lead to the loss of soul), Lord British would be powerless to resist Great Old Ones.
"And why?" YOG asked himself.
"Because this is how it was meant to be! Iä!" YOG answered.
Unspeakable laughter filled the castle.
Hastur puked a sulphurous cloud in boredom.
Roddenberry eyed them both, obviously annoyed by the disorder.

Avatar sat - forced by Iolo and Nystul, in front of a huge magical rectangle. Avatar was forced to watch the strange visions which this magickal object showed to him. His head was filled with unearthly words, like relay, plasmacoil and multiphase. But Avatar understood that if this wouldn't stop soon, he would lose his Free Will and become a slave to someone.
But to who - or what?
Avatar could already feel his new soul - which he bought from the Britain Provisions - was breaking out from his body. This will be my end, Avatar thought grimly. And not only my end, but the end of the world, as I will not be around to save it.
Then - as so many times before - something peculiar occured.
Above Avatar appeared a sickly green dimensional gate from which a huge, red hand extended and quickly grabbed Avatar in it's fist.
A moment later Avatar was gone.

Deep in the Void of space a great, red pentagram materialized from nothingness. After that a bulky, red hand extended itself from the pentagram, holding a armour-cladden man in it's fist.
From unseen, a familiar voice spoke:
"You have been a thorn on my side for far too long, Avatar!"
Avatar suddenly understood that this hand and voice belonged to Guardian.
Guardian babled on.
But wasn't he destroyed in that terrorist act of Time Lord?
"That's why I banish you to the world of Pagan!" Guardian roared and surprisingly threw Avatar into the void.
Avatar was plunged in to a dead-calm sea under a purple, sunless sky.
"Here no one's ever heard of Avatar!" Guardian mocked. And then he was gone.
I'm drowning! Avatar realized as his plate-armour pressed him deeper and deeper...

Avatar regained consiousness and became aware to his horror that he was still in water. But why didn't I drown? Avatar wondered.
Carefully Avatar opened his eyes. And saw something horrid and morose and furry and smelly and glowering.
Whatta hell? Avatar thought. Didn't I make my affections clear with Dupre? And he's dead anyway, for crying out loud!
Then it occured to Avatar that he wasn't looing at his trusty and now-dead comrade, but something a little more furry and a lot smaller.
"Jab jab!" the creature snapped and ran away from Avatar's view with a skipping pace. Avatar noticed that this style was even more annoying than Iolo's drunken mincing walk.
Avatar's senses and cognitive functions were coming back on-line in short throbs, bringing unpleasant surprises. He realized that he was not under water, but in a small sunny village filled with creatures like the one Avatar saw a moment ago. It was his armor that was filled with water, and that weight prevented him from standing up.
"Jab jab!" screamed on of the creatures in Avatar's ear. Avatar couldn't decide wether this was the same furball that watched him earlier or some one else.
"Jab jab! Dabba dabba daa!" croaked another in front of Avatar. Avatar felt as something grasped his hands and slowly - but not gently - showed him upright.
"Jab jab?" stated one of creatures to Avatar, who was hanging from a simplistic pulley.
"Me-Avatar-Me-friend", Avatar replied to the creature, "Klaatu-barada- nikto?"
"Jab-jab! Vii-tar! Jabba jaa!" the furry creatures erupted.
Avatar gave them a calming smile and ripped himself off the pulley. After he took a single staggering step in his seawater-filled armour, he stumbled to the sandy ground again, water pouring out from the armors neckline.
Oh Lord! Avatar though. Can this get any more difficult than it is now?
The little creatures stared at him paralyzed.
Avatar sighed heavily, "Jab jab?"

Lord British could feel pure joy returning to his heart as he looked at the entity which was earlier known as Time Lord. As British had a Translator at his disposal, Everything simply had to Go According The Plan. There absolutely was no other alternative.
"Vallasherra Aika?" British uttered in a sadistic tone to this sorry creature.
"I, Vallasherra Aika, hear thee and I wilt do what thou asketh me", answered ex-Time Lord in a voice that had no... soul.
"Splendid! We must move this Shrine of Spirituality of yours to serve a more usefull purpose", Lord British said in a mocking tone, "If that's okay with you?"
"Spirituality-Shrine yours it is, obey thee I will", answered Vallasherra Aika.
British winced. Translator's work sometimes horrified even Him.
"Now, Vallasherra, I will open a Spiritual link to Britannia and you must --"
Too late British became aware that something was wrong.
In Britain's Ether there was something That Should Not Be There. Screaming in pain British tore himself out of the Ether, but Something had managed to clutch itself to him. Lord British had not felt this weird since the Black Rock.
"Mr Aika, take us out of here!" British bellowed before he lost his senses.
"Iä! Nyarlathotep! Iä! Nyarlathotep ftagn!" British screamed, face ashened as the Shrine of Virtue accelerated to warp speed for the first time in Britain's history.

Avatar pushed the lever atleast for the millionth time and suddenly the columnade took a completely different form than it was earlier. Though they had something in common: neither the current form or the earlier one was fit for used in crossing the chasm, from which the columns spawned.
"Blody hell!", Avatar growled. When he would some day strike Lord British down and unified Britain from his dictatorship to a comradely democracy, British would find himself pulling levers and trying to cross endless chasms. And so would Guardian. And every single one of those Great Old Ones too! And that nutcase, Time Lord, can accompany them all!
Grinning to his plans of the future, Avatar pushed the nearby lever again.
And behold! Totally-different-but-still-just-as-impassable was this new combination too.
The apparatus where Avatar would place all the oppressors, after Freedom And General Goodness had prevailed, would have no right combination at all. And Avatar was beginning to question wether this one had either.

Guardian was begining to be his own master again. None of the Great Old Ones had contacted him for a long-period-of-time, not since that little accident in Castle of Lord British.
Not that it mattered; now he was free to pursue his own projects.
The one called "Carnage Pits" was definitively a source of great joy and pride and so was "World of Pagan", where Avatar - Guardians arch-enemy, the one who had kicked the living shit out of him when Guardian was still called Master - was exiled.
Everything, Guardian noticed, Was Going According The Plan.
"SZLURH", said something nearby.
In the dim light of his home, The Red Cavern, Guardian could see a something green and vague materializing from the darkness.
"What? You?" Guardian spat in all of his might.
"SLZLURH."
A moment later Guardian screamed.

Avatar stepped out from the Black Gate to the fertile soil of Britannia, and cried in joy. No more Pagan-World! Avatar could've even hugged Lord British now. Or Dupre. Avatar came back to his senses. Dupre? Nah...
The grass was green and sun shone. Gentle wind teased Avatar's battle- worn face. Life was good.
As Saviour of Britannia (or atleast, that's how Avatar thought of himself) laid down to the ground to enjoy the sunshine, a dark shadow crossed over him. Avatar looked up to see what was blocking the light.
Enormous... Something glided in the sky. It was made of metal, just like Avatar's plate armour, but it was very odd looking:
At the end of it's streamlined hull, pointed out two tubular projections which shone strange magickal light.
At the other end of - It - was a massive saucer, which was almost as big as the rest of the - Thing - itself.
This Machine reminded Avatar, for reasons unknown, of a ship. But it was so... big. And shiny. Avatar could even see his own tine figure reflecting from the surface of the "saucer-section" as the Machine glided over him.
All this left Avatar awe-struck. Avatar could feel a inspiration taking over him.
"Oh boy", he gasped.

"Sensors detect a unindentified lifeform", Mr Geoffrey noted to the One sitting in the Big Chair.
"Yellow Alert!" Guardian barked.
"Shields up!" Iolo who was standing beside Guardian, still holding that banana peel over his eyes, yelled with a stupid smirk on his face.
Mister Jester, who was standing in front of a strange magical panel behind Guardian, began immediately punching the panel, which responded with a series of happy beeps, bleeps and hoots.
"Herr Käpitän! It's Avatar!" Mr Geoffrey gasped in surprise.
"Lord all Magic Missiles, arm Fireballs!" Iolo, also now known as Number Two, ordered.
"Belay that order!" Guardian snapped.
Mr Jester looked questionly at Guardian, then at Iolo and again back at Guardian.
"Hoist Avatara up here with the Tractor Beam", Guardian said and quickly added, "And you will not fire at him untill - unless - I give the order!"
"AUGH!" everyone moaned in disappointment.

The metallic flying-thingy shot Avatar with somekind of beam!
Will this mean my death? Just as I escaped the Pagan-World?
Then Avatar realized that he had been lift of the ground and that he was slowly levitating towards the "ship", towards a small window that had opened on it's side.
"Shit!" Avatar cursed.

Vallasherra Aika presented his work to British, a small bluish box which had cryptic writing on it's cover: "Window 97".
"When you transfer your Presense to this 'OperatingSystem'-moonstone, you will be able to transport to the future, to the last years of the Age of Mankind", Vallasherra wetted his lips and continued: "I have foreseen that this 'Windows 97' will be 'installed' into a Super Magical Monolithe That Controls All Destruct-o-Bombs. And when you are inside of it, you will be able to control this ultimate device of destruction.
"It would mean that you would become invincible, Master of the Universe."
Lord British grinned.
"You have served me well, Vallasherra Aika", no one in the room could not've heard the mocking tone on the last two words, "But your services are no longer needed."
British nodded to Translator who was standing - as always - right next to him.
In blink of an eye, Translator had translated Vallasherra Aika to death.
The sight was gruesom: genitives flowed out from a horrible fist-sized hole on Aika's forehead, pluperfects had been ripped out of his stomach and diphthong was cut in half and bleeding sickeningly.
Lord British laughed long and hard. It was a wicked and evil laugh.
Translator just stood calmly beside British.
British decided that it was now the time to transfer in to this 'Windows 97'.
Lord British laughed again.

Avatar could now see the inscription on the ship's shiny saucersection.
Avatar read slowly (as he wasn't a very good reader, he had flunked the runic alphabet exams - twise): "G... C... C... 17... 01... -G... GSS... Guard... ianprise - GCC 1701-G, GSS Guardianprise."
Guardian! Air escaped from Avatar's lungs. That ship belongs to Guardian!

"Guardian! Three Biker Mice are decloaking on the port bow!" Mr Jester screamed in fear.
"Cut the Tractor Beam and fire full Fireball spread at the third Biker Mouse from right", Guardian ordered angrily.
Infernal racket filled the bridge, and Guardian knew very well what caused it - the ghettoblasters bolted on the Mice's bikes which repeated over and over: "Biker Mice from Mars... Biker Mice from Mars,..." for Azathoth knows what reason.
"Shields will not stand this punishment for much longer!" Mr Geoffrey whined, trying to cover his ears.
"The Engineroom says that dynamo pedals are about to fail!" Number Two yelled so hard that the bananapeel fell of from his eyes.
Guardian was begining to get really pissed about this disorder.
"Shut the fuck up and shoot down those Bikes!!"

Avatar was falling down towards stony soil below. Today isn't going as planned, Avatar thought laconically.
Above Avatar could see the Guardianprise firing fireballs and magic missiles at the two remaining Biker Mice. The other one of them had already taken serious damage to it's starboard lateral nut and was swaing unstably accross the firmament.
Finally one enormous magic missile volley (sierra-pattern) ended this Bike's miserable voyage. The final remaining Biker decided that it was best just to cut losses and bugger off, and soon it disappeared back under it's cloaking (tiger-pattern).
And then Avatar reached the ground.
Death came.
Avatar's face darkened.

"The Nuclearwarp-reactor has taken serious damage. The Engineroom bets that it'll blow up any time now..." Mr Jester announced to everyone in the bridge, but mainly to Guardian.
"What are we going to do now?" Mr Geoffrey asked.
Guardian's face darkened.

The Beast's spirit roamed above the meadows.
He was looking for a fresh corpse which He would then possess and begin His plan of world subjugation.
As to answer His needs, the Beast found a appropriate pile of meat laying useless on the ground.
The Unholy spirit transfered into the corpse.
Avatar opened his eyes again.
His red eyes.

---

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