Lord of the Rings Fanatics Plaza

While the princess of Alderaan was exploring a place called Winterfell in a foreign land, she seemed to hit a bit of a snag: a thicket of thorns! If she was wearing sandals instead of boots, it would be a bit of a hassle to walk through them. "That scruffy looking nerf herder probably knew this location was a trap!" Leia cursed under her breath, as she tried to find a way through the thorns so that she could continue on with her hunt.

Because she was wearing boots (that were white, so they were getting pretty grubby already due to all the walking through areas that she wasn't familiar with) the thorns weren't affecting her feet, but they kept getting caught on parts of the long white gown that she wore, and as Leia bent down each time a thorn caught on the bottom of her dress, she had to make sure she kept her balance when she tried to balance on one foot in order to get it free quite a few times before she safely made it to the other side of the thicket. The adopted princess would have to make a note to avoid this location in the future otherwise her dress would have to be discarded after Han Solo finally reunited with her after he settled the score he had to deal with that was keeping him from doing this "common policing work" himself. After all, who better to catch a thief in a foreign land than a smuggler that may know what's going through the thief's mind and might know which places they were hiding out in (and which places to avoid, such as this WInterfell place)?

The bird with the orange beak stared at Reg. “Erm,” it said. “While I can’t condone throwing baby lions about, you might be able to help us locate this individual.” The bird swept a wing wide to indicate a poster hanging on the wall.

“What’s that say, then?” Reg asked, peering at the letters.

“A Horrible Goose,” said the bird. “Last seen pulling the straw from THATCHED ROOF COTTAGES. Emphatic ones, at that,” the bird added drily. “Should you accept this mission, I can provide you with one tool and one tool only.”

Reg blinked. “Yeah all righ’,” he mumbled. “May as well.”

“Excellent. Here you are.” Deftly for a caged bird, the secretary tossed an Iron Coin of the Faceless Men at Reg. The orc caught it in a hairy fist. “If you come across a Braavosi ship, simply present the captain with this coin and say valar morghulis.”

“Vala magoose?” Reg repeated.

“Va. Lar. Mor. Goo. Liss.”

“Ah, all righ' then.”

Yzma had done it. She'd finally taken care of that obnoxious Kronk--why had she ever taken him on as a sidekick, anyway? He had been way too soft for this line of work.--but there was still the whole lingering llama issue with Kuzco, and the fact that she wanted the throne. Something strange happened, though, when she stepped out of her quarters, just after donning her Apocalypse Cloak. There was a strange rainbow bridge stretching from her front door into the sky. "What's this?" she mumbled, her face pulling into a scowl. "It seems like something I've heard of before... the Bifrost, maybe?"

Reg had spent his fair share of time on ships. Between the Potato Armada and the more recent adventure in catapulting stuff from a sinking barge, he was not afraid of water. But as he looked at the coin in his hand, he had a weird feeling. Super weird. So super weird.

Nonetheless, he wandered (yes, still dressed as Pain) out of Avengers Tower and through some shining portal thing and found himself at Riverrun. He gazed with wonder at the big castle. This was the weirdest hallucination he’d ever had, and he and Fleeg had sampled quite a few substances in their time.

“You there! Stay where you are!” called a pompous voice. It was coming from a guy with blonde hair and a metal hand. Reg growled and closed a huge fist around the coin that weird bird had given him. He stood his ground as the man swaggered over. “What are you doing in these lands? And how did you get into my camp?”

Reg shrugged. “Dunno,” he grunted. “I’m lookin for a ship. That’s all.”

The man was not convinced. “As if a monster such as yourself would be let aboard a ship!” scoffed the man.

Reg had heard enough. In a flash of pink Pain costume, he grabbed the man’s metal hand and yanked it from his person. “Haha!” he crowed, brandishing Jaime’s Golden Hand in the air as he fled the scene. “Eat crap, blondie!”

What was he doing, again? Right. Finding a ship. Who could help him? Someone adventuROUS, no doubt.

When she stepped onto the rainbow bridge, Yzma found herself suddenly transported to somewhere... very, very different than anyplace she'd ever been before. As she wandered through the streets, she heard a few people mention the name 'Winterfell' and so she finally supposed that was where she had ended up. Wondering how she would get back to anywhere familiar, she continued to wander until she caught sight of someone who seemed equally as out of place as her, but just as diabolical. Yzma grinned and came up next to the woman--wearing some outlandish but luxurious white fur coat--and introduced herself. "I'm Yzma. Evil sorceress. Who might you be?"

The woman turned to her, arching an equally impressive eyebrow. "Cruella de Vil, doll," she answered. "You haven't happened to see a direwolf running around have you, by the name of Nymeria? She'd make a wonderful coat."

Hermes Trismegistus had a problem. He wanted to live forever and all the magic in the world that he had found up to this point had not provided him with the answer. He had studied alchemy for decades. He had earned his cognomen because of the advancements he’d made in the field, but the ultimate prize of alchemy still eluded him. He could turn lead into gold easily, it was child’s play. He had created the universal solvent years ago, no joy to be found there. He needed the elixir of life! He was an old man now, if he didn’t find it soon, he was doomed, and all his wisdom and knowledge would be gone. He begged leave of the pharaoh of Egypt and head toward the land of Cardassia Prime.

Where was this fabled land? Hermes had to admit he had no idea. It did not show up on any of the maps he had bought and pored over. Still, he was confident he would find something there, an ingredient, a clue, something. He knew it in his very old bones. The boy the was selling Glass Candles in the market was certain it was a city in the sky. Oh wouldn’t that be marvelous! A city in the sky! Free from the troubles and burdens of the earth. Pain, misery, loss, and sorrow would be unheard of. If Cardassia Prime was indeed a city in the sky, Hermes would find it!

There was also word of a dragon in the area. Or was it a man? A dragon… man? Hermes wasn’t too sure, all the stories about this Trogdor person were very conflicting. But they needed to be researched and found out. A dragon would be invaluable in his search of a sky city! Not to mention the alchemical benefits possible with dragon fire. Hermes set himself to work.

Hermes Trismegistus had done well in his search for the legendary man. No that wasn’t right, ah dragon man? No that wasn’t right either. Just a dragon? That sounded much more logical. He'd d found the dragon, Trogdor. Hermes was able to reason with the creature long enough to convince him that “burnination" was nit the best way to deal with one's problems, at least in this instance. Hermes promised the dragon the secret of but turning lead to gold to enrich the horde he would inevitably build some day. The dragon was amenable to this arrangement and off they went, an odd pair of travelling companions.

The journey to the Cloud City of Cardassia Prime was not an easy one. As it did not appear on any maps and the skies were as changeable as, well, as the clouds, there was no way to tell if they were getting closer to their goal or further away from it. Hermes, for his part, was enraptured by the awe inspiring beauty of the world above the clouds, but he felt keenly the pressing of time, a millstone tied about his neck. Mortality was catching up to him.

Trogdor, as it turned out, was not as tireless and energetic as he believed himself to be. They had to settle down for the night in an unnamed village on some unnamed plain in the unnamed countryside of an unnamed land. Ironically enough, the inn they stayed the night at had a name: Cap’s Shield. Hermes was fascinated by the incongruous fortress of rest but the story of why the inn had a name and everything else within three hundred leagues didn’t would have to wait. As it turns out, he was very tired indeed.

The next morning, Trogdor and Hermes set off again. Trogdor, though, was more eager to walk through the valley than fly over it. At first, Hermes decided not to question the quirks of his odd travelling companion, but as time when on, he became increasingly worried for their safety. Trogdor, the Burninator of countrysides and peasants, was jumping at shadows and hiding behind everything large enough to hide him. Hermes was willing to call him skittish but he noticed a pattern in the creatures that scared him: birds and lizards.

When pressed, the dragon finally came clean. He was afraid of this area because it was the resting place of The Dark Crystal, a magical artifact that held, reputedly, inexhaustible power. He had been caught once here trying to destroy a village, as dragons do, when winged lizard creatures with beaks like birds descended upon him and subdued him. He was told that if he ever returned, they would use the crystal to turn him into a man.

Hermes tried to understand, he knew the world was far more intricate and strange than he could ever imagine in one lifetime, he was conversing with a dragon about his fears after all, but something about the story didn’t ring true. Was Trogdor going to betray him? Hermes was well aware of the avarice and selfishness of dragons. Had he been let go so these creatures could find more victims? The thought sent a shudder through his heart. The Land of Two Frosts was coming up, or The Bifrost as it was called in the higher echelons of learning. Hermes could either learn the truth of Trogdor's betrayal or be assured of its falsity there.

So this was flying! Or was he simply falling? Hmmm. It was hard to tell. Whatever was happening, it sure was going on for a while.

Hmm. Had his little Pain wings allowed him to fly away from that snobby dude? Reg looked down. He was still holding that guy’s golden hand. He let go of it and it floated away. Who knew golden hands could fly! Reg was learning a lot about this strange hallucination world today.

He flipped over onto his back and rested his head on his arms. This was the life! A cool breeze, flying about, no chAotIc nonsense happening to him ... maybe he would stay here! For! Ev! Er!

Before he could determine how he would eat and drink and all the practical bits, Reg had the wind knocked out of him as he landed flat on his back.

“Ow.”

After taking a break to deal with some issues with her family on how she shouldn't be doing such things, the little girl with the pink bunny ears thought that she would try hunting down a thief again in the land full of nightmares and scary looking creatures to show her family how brave she actually was. Deep down, eight year old Louise Belcher still thought that this was another attempt by her family to try and scare her.

"I'll show them!" Louise vowed, as she found herself in the place known as Pride Rock once again. "I got to stop exploring places like this," Louise thought to herself, "or else people will think I'm looking for a girlfriend!" the very thought filled the pre-teen with so much disgust that she almost stuck out her tongue.

As she was doing so, she noticed that a person known as Trogdor was looking at her strangely. "What's your problem, anyway? Never run into a girl that wears a pink bunny ear hat?" not being able to come up with a better explanation, since the person was starting to give Louise the willies. The little girl also noticed that this person seemed to be hiding an Iron Coin of the Faceless Men whatever that was.