SamuKata
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I would have to seriously ponder

the Gramarye involved, but the physical component of the far-speaking device seemed simple enough; just a cup with a string attached to the bottom.  I apported some bark and fibrous vines from the forest and quickly fashioned a pair of adequate (if rustic looking) handsets.

"What do you think?" I asked the witches as I turned and displayed my handiwork.  "A matching pair of mugs!  And that's what I shall call them!  A truly elfly name for this invention:  Mumble-Mugs!  Has a nice ring to it, eh?"

"Meh," Gretchen shrugged.  "The alliteration is nice, but..."

"Tell-O-Cup is easier to say," Petunia insisted.

"The name 'Mumble-Mug' makes me think the message will be garbled and indecipherable," Chloe pointed out.

"It's appropriate, I guess," Rebecca admitted.  "The message usually WAS garbled and indecipherable."

"Well the name isn't final," I scowled.  "What I wanted you to notice was my creativity and industriousness.  These are made from all natural materials!  It's more sustainable than metal or ceramic."

"Cheaper, you mean," Burnside quipped.

"Cost is not the issue," I retorted.  "But never mind.  I can see that the niceties of manufacturing are lost on you.  Now, I need to try and recreate the Gramarye on these things.  Ash said it was simple when he gave the first one to me.  I just have to magickally connect the two strings together ... oh!  Speaking of Ash, I should call him and find out what he's doing.  Perhaps he could explain the enchantment to me.  Or if he's not busy, he could report on the trial and I wouldn't have to enchant these at all!"

I picked up the original Mumble-Mug, pulled the string taut, and yelled into it:  "Ash!  Ash Marten!"  I turned my head and pressed the cup to my ear, but heard only silence.  "Dr. Cesawonki!" I yelled into it again.  "Answer!  Hey!  Hello!  Blast it, he's not answering."

"Ash is too busy to answer his Tongue-Waggin-Flagon right now, Sire," an Ixie informed me as she flitted up and saluted.  "He hath much to do, reviewing briefs and selecting jurors."

"What??" I declared, cutting right to the heart of the matter.

"Ash Marten is a Prominent Citizen, much respected in the local community," the Ixie explained.

"That scoundrel?" I scoffed.  "Prominent?  RESPECTED??"

"Thou knowest how cunning he is," she reminded me.  "How perfidious, how sly.  He masterfully manipulateth public perception of himself, and, to come to the point, the townsfolk and the rabbits have agreed to appoint Ash as judge in the witch trial."

I blinked for a few seconds, then said:  "Kindly inform Judge Marten that I wish to speak to him.  Immediately."

"I bear other news, Sire," the Ixie continued.  "Concerning the Reverend O'Hoppity, our findings are very dark indeed."

"That was quick," I remarked.  "It would have been nice if all of you had been this efficient before now.  But all right, what did you discover?  I knew he couldn't possibly be untouchable.  Everyone has dark secrets.  Everyone is guilty of something, you just have to dig around to find it."

"Oh yes, Sire, he doth indeed have a secret.  But ... the Parson's sin is far darker than we ever imagined.  I shudder to recount it."

"What," I asked, my mouth suddenly dry, "is it?"

"Reverend O'Hoppity's clandestine depravity would shame a mel of the cloth from any faith," the Ixie intoned dramatically.

"Tell me!" I shrieked, unable to bear the suspense.

"Very well, Sire," the Ixie declared.  "Reverend O'Hoppity ... believe it or not ...  is a partaker in, and practitioner of ... I cannot say it ...

"SAY IT!" I yelled in chorus with the witches, who had gathered closer to listen.

The Ixie took a deep breath and uttered so quietly it was almost inaudible:  "Shadow Puppet Shows."

Everyone stepped back and gasped in shock.

"That's dadgum disgustin," Burnside spat.

"By Fuma!" I declared, and then, because I could think of nothing else to say, I repeated it.  "By Fuma!  By Fuma!  How can this be?"

"I think I'm going to be sick," Rebecca moaned.  "How do you know this?  It can't be true!  The noble, upstanding Parson who has been preaching to us my entire life was partaking in ... those ... unspeakable Shows the whole time??  No!  It just doesn't make sense!"

"It seems the stakes have been raised," I muttered, after I'd had a moment to collect my wits.  "As a Seelie elf sworn to the service of Lady Fuma, I cannot allow this decadent rot to continue and spread.  For the good of everyone, and especially for the good of my witch cult, Reverend O'Hoppity must be taken down."

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Comments

>Rebecca: You are still having an inner crisis brought on by shock. >Petunia: No one will dispute that the depraved charlatan Reverend O'Hoppity needs to be taken down, but how exactly does he plan to do this? >Adler: Easy, you will make his disgusting predilections public knowledge. >Gretchen: Will the public listen? Is there physical evidence to show them? >Adler: If the mob was so easily lead down the ridiculous logic chain that led to this travesty of a trial it shouldn't take much to make them believe this. And this is actually true. >Chloe: Yes but, it might be less of the accusations being made and more a case of who was making them. No one took Didelphis's claims seriously until the pastor got involved. >Adler: Hmmm. The evidence will need to be irrefutable with a dramatic reveal. You ask your ixie where they found the evidence? >Ixie: You saw him in the act. Oh how the sight of it will forever haunt you. He stores his supplies and a journal of his horrendous shadowy exploits in his home, but you saw him performing his private puppet show in the back of the church. >Rebecca: WHAT?? That pompous, lying, heretical hypocrite was living out his depraved fantasies on holy ground?? You can barely contain your moral outrage. >Adler: You try and calm Rebecca before she has a complete rage fueled freakout. >Another Ixie: You fly up to Adler and give him a salute. You inform him that your mission has been successful. You found several bottles of booze and have doused and distributed them amongst the unconscious rabbits as ordered. They have been gone long enough that another party will come looking for them and find them in that state. >Adler: Excellent! >Ixie: You also took care take make it look like the rabbits were responsible for stealing the booze. >Adler: Good thinking! >Ixie: And you arranged all the rabbits in compromising positions that will certainly not be socially acceptable in Bunkirk. >Adler: Uh, okay. >Ixie: And you put one of them in a dress. >Adler: . . . Why? >Ixie: It seemed like a good idea. That will certainly make them all look bad. >Yet Another Ixie: You flitter up in between the other two ixies and give Adler a salute. Ash Marten is ready to speak, but he is not happy. >Adler: You pick up the original Mumble-Mug. "Hello?" >Ash: You know, you can certainly empathize with Adler wanting to be the driving force behind his rise to power, but the fact that the first thing you saw when you got back from your mission setting up contacts and story tellers is an angry mob that he caused does not inspire confidence.

One imagines his shadow puppet show is like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VxdZNCwConI

Eric Costello


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