Behold, the Power of Cheese (1/2) by Erik LeBeau Date: Tuesday, November 9, 2004 Time: Mid-morning Place: The Jeweled Peach All participants used with their permission "So, what's the deal with Captain Clueless over there?" Dee asked between mouthfuls. She, Jesse, Shelly, and Paul were sitting around a table in the Peach with a jumbo banana split, taking a much-needed break from excavating the Shrine. When her question caught the others by surprise, Dee pointed with her spoon to the other side of the room where Erik sat in a chair by himself, stroking what appeared to be a bit of fried onion and muttering "my lovely" to it. Paul looked over his shoulder. "Oh, him? Fandom shock. He used to be a god, and he's having trouble adjusting." "Every word in that sentence made sense by itself," Shelly said softly, "but I still have no idea what you just said." "Yeah, what do you mean 'he used to be a god'?" Jesse added. "Exactly what I said," the young man replied with a shrug. "He found his way into some obscure fandom and set himself up as the ultimate Mary Sue. Jackson and I had to go in and pull him out. He still hasn't recovered from the shock. Watch this. Hey, Erik, tell these ladies who I am!" Erik growled, brandishing the onion like a weapon or a shield. "Erik is not our name, foolish Legolamb. I demand you return me at once!" Dee thought for a minute. "Something about this sounds familiar," she finally said. "I think I remember something about a magic onion, and some guy always calling it 'my lovely'. Oh, wait! Don't tell me he was--" "Yep," Paul said. "He was Sourdough, Viscount of the Onion Rings." "You mean there's actually a *fandom* for that?!" Paul shrugged. "Like I said, it's obscure. Bigger fandoms have enough inherent power to stop someone from coming in and taking over. This one, though, just didn't have the clout." "And you just popped in and grabbed him?" Shelly asked. "It seemed like that in the timeline of this realm, but it actually wasn't that simple. It happened like this..." Paul began. -- November 8, 2004 -- Jackson and Paul moved less-than-easily through the overgrown vineyards. The acrid smell of rotting grapes hung heavy in the air. Although it was obvious that these vines had not been tended in years, they stubbornly refused to die. Some of them had also inexplicably sprouted brambles that tore at the men's clothes as they walked. This was the forsaken land of Merlot, home of the evil Viscount Sourdough, wielder of the Onion Ring that gave him power over all lesser creatures. "Tell me again why we can't just zap there?" Paul asked in a hushed voice. It was true that with his powers restored, Jackson should have been able to transport Paul and himself directly to Sourdough's stronghold. However... "There's powerful Majicks at work," the Imp explained. "Strong enough to block even my abilities." "But your powers aren't native to this fandom. Shouldn't you be able to overcome them?" "Ordinarily, yes. But remember, lad, the person wielding the Majick isn't native to this fandom either. And he's had more time than we have to become accustomed." Paul shook his head with a defeated sigh. "You never did tell me how he came to be here in the first place." Jackson fell silent for a long moment. It was clear that he was uncomfortable with the subject. "That... is my fault, I'm afraid. Remember when I invited you and Erik to come to Faerie last year?" "Yeah, I remember." the younger man replied. "I couldn't take the time off from school or else I would have gone." "Well, Erik decided to come, and we were camping out one night after a hike," Jackson said, his eyes focusing on something in the middle distance. -- October 5, 2003 -- "And so the vampire says, 'There is no gravity. The Earth sucks!'" The sound of a dozen fan fic fairies laughing filled the air. Well, not so much *filled* necessarily, but definitely made a significant contribution to. Then again, "significant" may be too strong a word, considering the size of the average fan fic fairy, but certainly the sound raised the ambient sound level by at least a noticeable margin. Noticeable, that is, if you were also a fan fic fairy, or had spent a fair amount of time among them. At any rate, suffice it to say that they thought it was a good joke. Jackson Hugh, though, one of the only two members of the campfire circle of natural human size, sat in befuddled silence. "I don't get it," he said after a moment. "Vampire. Suck. That's the joke," Erik said, still giggling. He finished his third -- no, fourth -- cup of juice with a small hiccup. He and Usagi, a tall whitish-yellow labrador, were sitting around a campfire trying to loosen the re-empowered half-Imp up. (Well, Erik was trying; Usagi was causing considerable unease among the gathered fairies by jumping up and snapping playfully at them every few minutes.) "Yes, they do," Jackson was saying. "How is that funny?" Erik rolled his eyes. "You just don't know comedy," he decided, trying to figure out which of the three bottles in front of him was the real one. He grabbed for one. Nope. Jackson quickly reached out and snagged the bottle before Erik's fumblings knocked it over. "Maybe not, but I *do* know to go easy on this stuff. You're not native to Faerie, so there's no telling what it'll do to you." "You worry too much," Erik scoffed, shaking his head rapidly back and forth. This turned out to be a bad idea, as dizziness set in quickly, and blackness swarmed up to claim another victim. Jackson caught Erik as he tipped over and laid him back against the bedroll, then collected his own and settled in for some sleep himself. When Jackson woke a few hours later, Erik and Usagi were gone. Jackson sniffed the air to pick up a hint of their trail, and then he bounded through the woods after them. Wandering alone while hyped up on Fan Fic Fairy Juice was not a particularly wise position to be in. There was no telling where one might end up, especially in these woods. Because of the influence of so many fan fic fairies in one place, this forest had become something of a nexus between worlds. There were portals to all kinds of other fandom realms scattered randomly through the woods, and an unsuspecting traveler could easily become lost in a world completely alien to them. Jackson tracked the circuitous path that Erik and Usagi had cut through the trees, past a portal to that fandom where the vampires' faces physically changed when they were angry. Turning left, he narrowly avoiding a portal to that fandom where space aliens were real and the government was carefully hiding the truth. No, not *that* fandom, the other one. The trail wound this way and that, and then suddenly stopped. Jackson saw the faint shimmer of a portal just before him. He didn't remember seeing this here on previous trips. He cautiously poked his head through. The scent trail was gone, but that wasn't unusual when crossing realms. Jackson looked around and realized with a start where he was. Jumping backwards out of the portal, he stumbled and almost fell into another nearby portal -- the one to that fandom where some people had this genetic condition that gave them weird random powers. No, not *that* fandom, the other one. Of all the portals in these woods, Erik and his dog had to wander into *that* one. And there was no way Jackson was going in there alone. -- -- "So you just left him there? You abandoned him in some strange fandom realm for over a year?!" Paul asked, incredulous. "He could have been killed!" Jackson laughed. "Not in this realm. No one dies here." "Why not?" "Because this fandom is based on a bunch of characters that populated a series of cookbooks. It was a commercial marketing scheme. No one dies in commercials!" The Imp then sobered, sensing Paul's next question. "But, there's enough strong Majick here that I couldn't risk coming alone or I could have been trapped." -- -- "Hold it, hold it." Shelly interjected suddenly. "Did you just flashback within a flashback?" Paul shifted uncomfortably. "Umm... yeah." "You're my hero," she declared, blue eyes shining. "Anyway..." Dee prompted. "Anyway, we finally get to the fortress. Past the vineyards, there was this Stonehenge-looking thing full of big, tall rocks with carvings all over them." "Carvings?" Jesse perked up. "Don't get too worked up," Paul said, shaking his head. "They were recipes. I doubt highly that the stone we're looking for has directions to make chicken marsala on it." -- November 8, 2004 -- Jackson and Paul made their way inside the strangely unguarded stronghold. Their footsteps echoed down the corridor toward the main throne room, which was also curiously empty. "Something isn't right here," Jackson said, drawing his Claymore. Paul was confused, but did the same. They stood unmoving for almost two minutes. When Paul's arms began to ache, he looked over at Jackson. "I think you're being paranoid," he whispered, lowering his sword. Jackson's nostrils flared and he swung his blade around, stopping inches from Paul's face. Paul yelped and jumped backward as he heard the 'clang' of metal on metal. As he watched, Jackson moved into what appeared to be an intricate sword kata. Every time Jackson froze, there was that same clanging sound, echoing through the empty room. But, no, it wasn't quite empty, because Paul realized he could almost make out a shimmer of a shape with every sound. He understood then that Jackson wasn't pantomiming a fight -- he was literally fighting an invisible person! TBC... Behold, the Power of Cheese (2/2) by Erik LeBeau -- November 8, 2004, continued -- Paul stood back, unsure of how to help Jackson. He did not know how the Imp was managing to stay one step ahead of his unseen opponent, but he always seemed to have his sword in place before the invisible strikes could connect. Nevertheless, Paul held his Claymore at the ready, hoping for an opening. Jackson grunted as he blocked another blow. "You've improved since the last time we fought, little man." "You mean that's *Erik* you're fighting?" Paul called out, incredulous. "Of course it is!" the Imp called back. "Who did you think we were looking for?" "But he's invisible! He's not allowed to have powers like that! It's against the rules of the War!" "Ah, but we're not part of the War here, lad. New realm, new rules. And right now, we have to play by *his*," Jackson explained as he danced out of the way of Erik's attack. Paul swallowed nervously. War rules didn't apply here? Did that mean that Erik could potentially do permanent damage, or even have it done to him? The younger man understood now how vital it was to get back to the nice safe FK world where the motto was, of course, "No one dies. No one ever dies." He was about to ask Jackson how he could help when a booming voice filled the chamber. It seemed to come from everywhere at once. "Fools! How dare you invade the fortress of the almighty Sourdough! I know what it is that you seek! You wish to remove the Onion Ring from my hand and use its power to command the forces of Merlot!" Jackson leaped back as Erik's invisible sword slashed across his shirt. The reverberating echo in the chamber was making it more difficult for the Imp to track Erik's movements. "I know you," Erik's voice rumbled. "You are Earocorn, Chef of the North! You come with your Sous Chef, Legolamb. You think you have the power to defeat me and my generals, the Nine Steel Cooks? I shall feed your bones to my dogs, after I have pan-seared your flesh and braised it for hours in a mixture of veal stock and red wine along with some new potatoes and pearl onions!" The Imp sighed heavily. "It's worse than I thought," he whispered to Paul. "He doesn't even recognize us. He thinks we're part of this world now." "Yeah, and he's also turned into that chef... you know, that 'Boom!' guy, or whatever. That guy freaks me out," Paul replied, suppressing a shudder. "I know who you mean," Jackson said. "He's actually my third cousin twice removed. Or was it my second cousin thrice removed? Whatever. He's half-troll. Something of an embarrassment to the family." Paul cleared his throat motioned with his sword. "I'm sure that's fascinating, but right now, don't we have more important things to worry about?" "Don't be in such a rush. This is only the top of page 2. We've got plenty of time." "The others are waiting for us," Paul reminded him. "Time moves differently in other realms," Jackson said simply. "Oh, for the love of...." Paul mumbled. "Erik? It's me, Paul. You remember me, right?" "Seek not to confuse the mighty Sourdough with your pitiful ramblings!" Erik called out across the room. "Or else I shall stuff your carcass with seasoned bread crumbs mixed with golden raisins and dried cranberries and roast you in a 350-degree oven for 12 minutes per pound!" Paul pursed his lips. The idea was there, forming in his mind, just out of reach. Yes... Yes... Just a bit more... That's it... Got it! "That sounds wonderful," Paul said loudly. "But what would you serve *with* something like that?" "Worthless peasant!" roared Erik's voice. "Do you not know the proper accompaniment for such a repast would be mashed potatoes with roasted garlic and fresh dill? How you became the great Sous Chef of the forest realm of Applewood, I shall never know! No doubt due to the influence of your father, Andouille, the Sausage King. You are not even worthy to be served with my 20-year-aged balsamic vinegar!" Paul motioned for Jackson to play along. "Truly you are a wise and powerful Chef," he continued. "I wish to renounce my service to Earocorn and follow you, oh great Sourdough." Paul returned his sword to its sheath and fell to one knee. "Umm... uh... yes!" Jackson stuttered. "I, too, wish to be a disciple of Viscount Sourdough, fryer of the Onion Rings of Power." He stepped backward until he was beside Paul, then also knelt down, holding his sword flat between his hands, held out and up. There was silence for a long moment, and Paul fought the urge to move. Every nerve in his body screamed that an invisible blade was bearing down on his exposed neck, but the expected blow never fell. Instead, a light chuckling noise filled the air. "This is the best that this world has to offer?" Erik taunted. "Had I known it would be this easy, I would have conquered this land ages ago!" He lifted the sword from Jackson's hands, the blade appearing to float in mid-air. "Very well. I shall name both of you into the ranks of my Steel Cooks, and you shall follow me in all things!" Erik raised the sword in preparation to "knight" the two kneeling figures when Jackson suddenly called out, "Now!" With Jackson's visible sword clearly showing where Erik was, Jackson and Paul leapt forward. Paul stayed low, wrapping his arms around the invisible legs, while Jackson moved to immobilize the sword hand. He wrested the Claymore from Erik's grasp, sheathing it quickly with one hand. Erik howled in fury and threw his hands around the Imp's throat. At the same time, Paul felt an incredible weight slam into his back. He craned his head around as much as he could but saw nothing. No doubt more of "Sourdough's" majick, he reasoned. Distracted as he was, Erik was unable to prevent Jackson from gathering his Imp majicks and transporting them out of the foreign realm. -- -- "Of course," Paul finished, "when he was returned to this realm, all the powers of that other world stayed there, which is why you could all see him when we returned." "So, you're saying that there's no way he can become invisible here?" Jesse asked. "Exactly. The rules prevent it." "Then, if he's not invisible, then where the heck did he go?" the curly-haired Addict said, jumping up and pointing toward the empty chair. "Aww, dammit!" Paul cried. "He ran off while I was flashbacking." "Don't you mean 'flashing back'?" Dee offered. "Whatever. You're not supposed to be able to do that!" Paul groaned and grabbed the sheathed Claymore from underneath his seat. "I better go hunt him down. Who knows what kind of trouble he could get himself into." Shelly stood as well. "I'll go with you. You may need me to help box him in or something. Anything to get away from construction duty." "Bring those with you," Paul said, indicating the pair of Evil Pink gloves on the corner of the table. Even pulled inside-out, the color still seemed to pulse with an unholy aura. "Why?" his fiance asked. "Knowing Erik, they may just come in handy." -- End "Behold, the Power of Cheese" --