Title: Part 2 of my Silly Story
Posted By: Callandor
Posted On: 7/27/99 3:51:46 AM

No, I haven’t started on the last part..Don’t ask me when..but soon..Anyway… here it is…

Han Solo and Mark Tiran

Mark stared from the shadows, surveying the Grand Tar Valon Bank. Drooling with anticipation of laying his hands of all that money, he did not notice his shoes getting really wet from the puddle that was rapidly becoming a pond. Or the pile of coins that was piling up as the ordinary citizens of Tar Valon threw at a distance from him, thinking him a mad beggar with a lot of drool.

Mark shook himself out of reverie. This is no time to daydream, he thought to himself. Scanning the area, he noticed one very suspicious character (besides him) that was watching the Bank. He did not need the competition. Then, the stranger noticed him, looked at him and grinned insolently. Then he walked over to where Mark was standing, carefully not stepping on the Drool™, to avoid corroding his brand new boots. Mark noticed his soles were going, and quickly stepped into somewhere dry.

“Hiya kid. The name’s Solo. Han Solo,” the man said, grinning away.

Staring at his grin, Mark had the sneakiest suspicion that ‘Han’ was really Ben T-Gaidin on a really bad practical joke. He gave up that notion when Han pointed a crossbow at him.

“Sorry kid, lost my blaster somewhere. Now let’s go somewhere to talk.”

Saying this, Han prodded Mark on. Slowly they walked down the street, cautiously avoiding the crowd and the Drool™. As they turned into an alley, Mark noticed it was empty. Marking the best place to escape, Mark turned around, facing Han and his crossbow.

“Okay, Han, I’m Mark, Mark Tiran. Now what in the Pit of Doom do you want?”

“Look kid, I noticed you casing out the Bank. Firstly, it ain’t worth it. Secondly, I heard that there’s a better place to steal from, someplace called Shayol Ghul.”

Mark’s face paled visibly.

“You’re new here, aren’t you?” When Han nodded, Mark continued. “You mean you don’t even know what Shayol Ghul means?!!?!”

“Umm…no, but I heard it’s really loaded. The guy in charge? Demand Red?”

“Demandred…not Demand Red.”

“Whatever.” Han shrugged. “Silly name. Anyway, I heard he’s gone somewhere. That means there’s nobody in charge. Whatever way you look at it, easy pickings.”

“Still…I wouldn’t go there for all the marks in the world. There’s many bad tales about that place.”

“What are you, chicken?”

At that, Mark’s face changed. Nobody calls me chicken. “All right, wiseguy. But how are we going there?”

“Normally, I’d take the Falcon, but it seems to be missing. So how do you guys go about?”

“Falcon? What? Faile? She can’t get you anywhere. Anyway, all we got to do is find an NPC Aes Sedai, ask her to open a Gateway for us.”

“Oh yeah? Whatever.” Han shrugged his shoulders, then grinned broadly. “Let’s go!”

Boba Fett and Dreda

He flew through the White Tower on his jetpack, cruising around. Boba felt it was time for a vacation. He was too tired to do any more bounty hunting. He passed Jabba and the Amrylin, busy guzzling down bowls and bowls of chocolate pudding, one using the Spoon™, the other using a extremely long tongue. As he stared at the spectacle, he did not notice Dreda Sedai up ahead, busy reading a book: The Mandoralian Armor, Part One of the Boba Fett Trilogy. Unable to reverse in time, he collided into Dreda. Both sprawled downwards on the floor. Dramon chose this moment to open a Gateway. Seeing the two of them on the floor, he turned really red and proceeded to open another Gateway out ASAP. Then he turned around as a question popped into his mind.

“Dreda, are you Green?”

Dreda, who was still on the floor, trying unsuccessfully to push Boba Fett off her, as Boba had hit his head against his helmet and was currently unconscious. She shook her head.

“Okay, is this something new?” Dramon paused, feeling really hot. “I mean, is that Hawkwing under that armor, instead of a flimsy silk dress?”

Dreda shook her head, more vigorously this time.

“So there’s someone else, eh?” Dramon grinned. “Kinky! Wait till I tell the other Aes Sedai; they’re gonna love armor!” Saying this, Dramon stepped through the Gateway and left.

Dreda stared in frustration at the vanishing Gateway. Trying harder, she pushed against Boba, trying to free herself. Hmmm, maybe I can wriggle myself out. She began to wriggle/squirm her way out.

Chissa choose this moment to enter the room. She wanted to tell someone about the giant slug in the White Tower real badly. She wanted to tell someone about its tongue. She stared at the wriggling figure of Dreda under Boba, blushed deeply, turned and fled to her room, locking herself in. Poor Dreda was still trying to wriggle her way out. Boba, still unconscious, was very, very heavy!

Luke, Lan and Jon’atha

Jon’atha stormed out the White Tower after IG-88’s passing. Walking into the Warder’s Practice Grounds, he saw an amazing sight. One dozen raken had taken to roosting in the Practice Grounds, and Lan Gaidin was trying his best to chase them away. However, mounted on one the raken was a blond hair youth, and he was trying to get his raken to fly.

“Move, you stupid Bantha Poodo,” Luke Sywalker, Jedi Knight, screamed in frustration as the raken solidly refused to move. “Arghhhh!!!” he screamed, as the raken tossed him off. Lan walked over to where Luke lay, staring down at him.

“My dear sir, you are in violation of rule 4 section 29 of the Warders Act, which means you can’t bring foreign animals into the Warders Practice Yard,” Lan recited in a monotonous voice. Luke stared at him, thinking, this is one whacked out Warder. “I’m afraid you have to remove the animals from the Yard right now.”

“I will, if I can get them to move. You’re welcome to try though,” Luke replied as he got up, dusted the dust away from his brown Jedi coat.

“Okay, I’ll try,” Lan hopped on one of the raken and kicked it real hard. It screamed in pain, turned it’s head to stare at Lan, and then threw him off. Lan landed in the ground, stood up wincing, rubbing his aching butt.

Jon’atha hurriedly ran down towards the Yard. “You can’t kick it like that, Lan. You have to give it a command. For example…” Jon’atha crawled up onto one of the raken, avoiding the one that Lan had kicked, for it still looked pretty ticked off. “Fly!”

And the raken took off.

The wind swept past Jon’atha’s ears and he knew the joy of flying. That is, until he looked down. He had a terminal fear of heights where there is no ground under his feet. “Land!!!!!” He screamed in absolute panic. The raken swooped down, finally stopping as it braked down the runway, barely missing not hitting the Yard Wall. He got off and began vomiting.

Luke ran towards the nearest raken and attempted to board it, which was unfortunately, the one that Lan had kicked. “Whoaaaaa!!!!” Luke screamed as he catapulted through the air, landing on his rump again. Jon’atha paused long enough in his vomiting to giggle hysterically. Lan stood there, wincing in sympathy. Then Jon’atha heard a most hideous sound. The sound of hundreds of lipsticks clanging together, the sound of tens of containers containing powder banging together, one dozen sticks of mascara rattling together, and all those sound coming from the White Tower. And he panicked. He scrambled up his raken and shouted to the others to get on theirs. Lan, who had heard the same thing, immediately ran to the nearest raken and mounted, which was unfortunately (snigger) the one he had kicked. He landed on his rump again. Standing he hurried to the next nearest raken, ignoring his aching butt. Luke, meanwhile, was staring in confusion.

“What’s wrong? I’m a Jedi, I can Persuade™ anyone to leave us alone.”

“Do you really think so?” shouted Jon’atha from his lofty perch. “Look and see for yourself.”

And emerging from the depths of the White Tower, a very determined looking Alanna and Leane, holding their Make Over™ kit, faces steely in their determination to find some poor hapless male to makeover. Luke, looking at them, noticing for the first time their pretty faces, fell hopelessly in love with both of them. Lan seeing Luke’s thunderstruck expression, ran down from his raken, went over to where Luke was standing, tossed Luke onto the nearest raken, which was the one that Lan had kicked, but now was mollified and accepted Luke as its rider. Then quickly ran to his raken. Alanna and Leane were already running towards them at full speed. As Lan buckled on his seat belt, he nodded to Jon’atha, who gave the command to the raken to fly. And off they went.

Alanna stared at the departing figures of Jon’atha, Lan and Luke. Then turning to face Leane, who was also disappointed, sighed in dismay. Then her eyes widened as she spotted the nine rakens still left in the Yard. She quickly walked over to one, hopped on and using a natural woman’s instinct, gave the right command to make it fly. Leane followed shortly after, clutching her Make Over™ kit in her hands. The chase was on.

Lone Wolf

Lone Wolf stared at the script. He wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do in this scene and was currently busy rehearsing when Greedo entered, early. The Rodian stood there, at the door, pointing a Blaster T-95 at him. Lone Wolf scanned through his script, looking for the scene. Seeing none, he stared at Greedo like a bad actor caught forgetting his lines.

Greedo did not forget his. He was, in his own private opinion, the best actor ever in Star Wars, and was quite ticked off that George Lucas had killed him off too early. He therefore was very glad of a second chance.

“Oota goota, Lone Wolf?” Greedo said, pointing his Blaster at Lone Wolf. (BTW it means: “Going somewhere, Lone Wolf?”)

“No not really, I was rehearsing for my scene when you barged in,” Lone Wolf said, a bit peevish. “And you shouldn’t point that Blaster at me or anyone. Firstly, it’s spoiled and it isn’t even Heron Marked™.”

“Spoila?! Craero geeka?!” (“Spoiled?! -Censored-?! “)

Lone Wolf muttered angrily. He hated being called -Censored-. “Well, if you don’t believe me, look into the barrel.”

Greedo raised the barrel near to eye level and looked real carefully inside the hole, then lowered it and said angrily to Lone Wolf. “Toota bonahada.” (“Toot! Bonehead!)

“You have to press the trigger, then you’ll see a flash of where your Blaster is spoiled.”

Greedo raised it again. Pressed the trigger and saw a flash, before he collapsed onto the floor, dead.

“That’s why Lucas killed you off so early, you -Censored-.” Lone Wolf said as he walked over to where Greedo lay and kicked him. “And that’s for calling me a -Censored-.”

Lone Wolf walked back to his desk, going through his lines. Then he realised that he was supposed to have a real long scene with Greedo, whom he had just given assisted suicide. Cursing, he sat back and muttered something about getting better scenes, lines and a new agent.

Radish

Radish scampered through the forest, with his nose in the air, sniffing. He smelled a lot of stuff, starting with lots of chocolate pudding, followed by men, horses and carts. Following the smell through the air, he emerged into a clearing full of men loading barrels of pudding onto the carts. There was one guy in charge and he was holding some pudding in his hand, enjoying it while the others were working. No one noticed Radish except for that guy, which meant a lot. No one could see a Wolfbrother when he didn’t want anyone to see him. Of course, the pudding may have made Radish more visible, due to the Drool™ gathering around his feet, but that’s a different story altogether.

“Hey over there!” the man pointed at Radish.

“Me?”

“Yes! Get over here.”

“Okay.” Radish walked over to where the man stood.

“You’re a native?” Radish nodded. “Well, what’s the fastest way to Cairhien?”

“Umm… That way,” Radish said, pointing towards Cairhien. (Point to note: Radish direction sense is really screwed. He’s pointing towards the Aiel Waste)

“By the way, I’m Talon Karrde. Smuggler Extraordinaire. Right now, I’m heading to Cairhien, there’s a Pudding Festival there.”

“But they have all the pudding they need. You won’t make any money. And I’m Radish.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll make money. So what’s your name?”

“Radish.”

“Really? At first I thought you were describing what racial stock you were from. You don’t see many people with yellow eyes.”

“Really. This whole forest is populated by humans and animals with yellow eyes.”

“What animals?”

“Wolves.”

“Oh, they won’t by any chance, like pudding?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Oh, nothing. Let’s go. Coming along?” Karrde turned around, not seeing if Radish followed. Right now, he was thinking of how he could sell wolves pudding.

Grand Admiral Thrawn

Kagato paused outside the Black Tower kitchens, smelling chicken again. His stomach rumbled fiercely, but he ignored it. He couldn’t stand one more chicken meal. He had fried, steamed, boiled, grounded, flash fried, oiled, greased, sliced and he was sick of it. He was therefore very surprised to see a tall blue skinned person Drooling™ near the kitchens, dry washing his hands at the smell of fried chicken. The tall man looked up, noticing Kagato. Smiling at him, although he looked a bit silly with Drool™ dripping out of one corner of his mouth.

“Hello there, ” the man said. “I’m Thrawn, Grand Admiral of the Empire. What’s the really tasty smell floating out the kitchen?”

“Ermm… chicken. You really get sick of it. BTW, I’m Kagato.”

“Beeteeww?” Thrawn rolled his tongue over the words.

“Be the way, sorry, I keep thinking I’m chatting on the net.”

“Net?” Thrawn was totally confused. This is really one whacked out Soldier, he thought.

“Never mind. Anyway, I have to go. ” Saying this, Kagato walked out of the kitchen into the Tower grounds. Sniffing through the revolting smell (to him and most of the Black Tower), he thought he smelled something else. Pork, he thought. His stomach rumbled hungrily. Looking around, he searched for the source of the smell. Pigs don’t exist in Randland, Kagato thought as he realised that. I mean, cows and sheep, but no pigs! Something is wrong!

His glance settled down on the army of Gamorreans marching towards the Black Tower. He had a really bad feeling about this. Thrawn meanwhile, was happily tucking in the Fried Chicken. You don’t get much chicken patrolling the Outer Rim territories.

Slaughterville

Slaughterville walked out his tent, which was pitched near the Black Tower. Fastening his buckler to his arm and holding his spear in the other, the Aiel Aiel looked ready for battle. Suddenly, a hole ripped open where he was and Ishamael stepped out, sitting on a large floating platform. The Dedicated (Aiel) Aiel heard maniacal laughter, but the sound just did not come from Ishy. He did noticed a rat-like creature sitting on a platform, which Ishy was petting. He felt really weird. He knew something was wrong today, but he wasn’t sure what. It was as if a foul wind had blown across the Dragonmount and caused chaos. Slaughterville felt something thumped him on the back. It hurt. He glanced at Ishamael, who shrugged in denial. Slaughterville shrugged too. It hurt, but he had more important things to do.

The Wind™ grinned in satisfaction. It wasn’t Foul. Woes betide the next person that called it Foul.

Slaughterville looked at Ishy, who stared back through his Surfer™ Shades™. Finally, Ishamael decided to speak.

“Yoz! What’s up?”

Slaughterville stared at him, thinking, This is one messed up Forsaken.

“Umm, nothing really. Is there anything you want?”

“Nope. Not really. See ya!” Ishamael frowned in frustration. That stupid bloody Aiel Aiel did not see my new car. Bah! I’ll find someone else. Turning the jo-car, he ripped open a Gateway and went to Cairhien. Slaughterville shrugged his shoulders as Ishy left. Walking around, he noticed that there was no one around. Except for the Secretary, who did not blink as usual. Walking into the courtyard, he noticed Hawkwing busy fighting with someone clad in black armor. He was about to help out, when the black stranger hooked his finger at him and said in a strange resonating voice, telling him to go away. Slaughterville walked away confused.

Walking near the garbage chutes he heard loud screaming, but he shrugged that away as normal. Probably the Chicken, he thought. Strange, I smell pork. Walking towards the kitchen, he saw a blue-skinned human? eating large amounts of chicken. He gagged in disgust. Walking out a bit more, he saw Kagato struggling with a huge pig? and was trying his darn best to hit it unconscious.

Utterly confused, totally puzzled and absolutely befuddled, the Aiel Aiel decided to return home. Opening a Gateway, he stepped back through to the Waste. And was surprised to see a hooded figure waiting for him. In his hands, he held the same thing the black stranger had, except it was longer. The stranger thumbed the switch and a green blade appeared. Slaughterville leaped forward to dance the spears with the stranger. And stared in astonishment as his spear was chopped in half. He leapt backwards, throwing the useless spear away.

Darth Maul stared at the Aiel Aiel in delight. He would kill this Jedi yet. Raising his hand, he lowered down his hood, revealing his red and black with Horns™ tattooed face. This should scare the bugger to death, he thought. Slaughterville started laughing. (Aiel humor! Hah!!!) Darth Maul was now two things. Very irritated and annoyed. Which meant to say he was ticked off.

And the Wind™, who was breezing along thought, There goes one ticked off Dark Jedi.

Dramon

“No kidding, Lanfir. Armor is in.” Dramon said. “Why just now, I just saw Dreda with a guy under armor.”

“Under?”

“I mean in. Dreda was under.”

“Under?”

“You called, Lanfir?” Ender popped in. “No. I said under, not Ender” Lanfir replied, sipping her Mint Tea.

“Like I was saying, Dreda was under the guy in armor.”

“Really?” asked Ender. Then looking at his watch, he realised he had an appointment with the hairdresser. He also needed new dresses. Bowing to everyone, he left.

“Really,” Dramon said to the disappearing figure of Ender.

“Darks? Get in here.” Lanfir called to her Warders. As they entered, she told them to get into the kinkiest armor they could find. They protested of course, but a little wink made them agree.

At the armory:

“What’s with the armor, Dark Blight?” asked Darksmoon.

“Dunno, Could be fun though.” he replied.

“It’s better than dresses though,” said Darkseid. The other Warders stared at him. “Okay,” he amended, “Dresses are better. Happy?”

Back in Lanfir’s room.

“Now, Dramon, kindly open a Gateway to Dreda?” Lanfir asked sweetly.

Dramon stared at her in confusion. “You said you would pay me.” He stood there, indignant, until Lanfir sighed, then gave him the box of Tea Leafs. Not the Green, but the Yellow-Brown, which unless you were an Expert in Tea Leaf Determining™, looked exactly like the Green. When Dramon wasn’t looking, she sniggered behind. Dramon seized saidin and opened a Gateway to Dreda’s room…

Callandor
Dedicated Cleaner of the Black Tower
Worst Male Channeler Ever
Bonded to Novam Sedai
Holder of the Cuendillar Broomstick
Official Black Tower Welcomer