"So, um, do those talking bugs work for you?"

P.J. asked.  "I'm pretty sure I have seen that big one before - only she wasn't a bug.  I bought my fake mustache from her."

"Minister of Disinformation!" I exclaimed, ignoring whatever it was he was babbling about.  "You need a suit of armor as well!  A resplendent outfit to proclaim your status as an official Cabinet Minister on the battlefield!  Hold still."

"You're welcome to try," P.J. scoffed.  "But I am warded against all forms of elf magi-AWK!"

"See there, my dear?" I asked Ethel as I proudly pointed at my handiwork.  Estvan had been right; magick WAS a lot easier to do in the lowfolk world!  "A complete and truly fine-looking suit of armor, perfectly fitted and made instantly, at no cost to you."

"I can't move," P.J. groaned.

"That's precisely the problem," Ethel pointed out.  "Plate armor is useless now that we have portable guns that fire with more force than a longbow, and can be reloaded in less than a minute.  A bullet will punch right through this junk.  And if we're fighting trees, being able to move faster than they can will be our biggest advantage.  It would be best to have light armor that allows full freedom of movement and won't weigh you down."

"I know just the thing!" I exclaimed with sudden inspiration.

"WHAT THE HELL??" Ethel screeched when she realized what I had transmogrified her clothes into.

"That's a style of armor with a long, proud history," I explained.  "It was worn by a legendary warrior -"

"I CAN'T GO AROUND IN PUBLIC LIKE THIS!" Ethel yelled.  "I'm practically NAKED!  People will think I'm one of those bawdy-house dancers here to delight them, not fight them!"

"Use that to lull them into a false sense of security, and catch them off guard," I advised.

"NO!" she bellowed.  "Change it!  NOW!!!"

"All right, all right, all right!" I exclaimed.  "Stop whacking me upside the head!  I get the message!  You don't want armor, okay, that's fine.  How about some nice quasi-military uniforms?  Here's a serviceable design from the most militaristic society I know.."

I waved my fingers and conjured up simple Vulpitanian-style uniforms for Ethel and P.J.

"Are all elves perverts?" Ethel demanded.  "Is this your idea of a uniform?  The neckline is too low, the hemline is too high, and the skirt is much too tight to walk around in!  Again I feel more like a tavern dancer than an officer."

"Well, I gave you an outfit that allowed complete freedom of movement, and you didn't like it," I retorted.

"Just give me back the clothes I was wearing when I arrived here," she sighed.  "We have more important things to deal with."

"YOU!" Ethel barked at the Special Abilities Ladybird Vendicatrix, who was trying (and failing) to climb a tree.  "COME HERE!"

"Yes ma'am, War Marshal, ma'am," the very large Ixie chirped as she snapped to attention and saluted us.

"What's your name, Ixie?" Ethel asked.

"They call me Angela Weakflit, LOL," the Ixie replied.

"Have you always been a member of His Lordship's elite bug troops?"

"Oh no ma'am.  Teh Ominous Orse has strict membership requirements.  I wanted 2 join 4 teh longest time, but only recently did I prove my worth & finally get in."

"And did you ever sell a false mustache to that useless bird over there?" Ethel asked, pointing at P.J.

"He mite B mistaken N his recollection," Angela replied with a shrug.  "Elfs dont lye .. & Ixies dont either I guess."

"And so your loyalty to His Lordship is beyond question then, is it?"

"Oh ma'am, if U onely knew," Angela sighed.  "Never N my life have I felt so welcomed as I have since joining teh Ominous Orse.  There since of comraderie, there complete acceptance of me as I am .. for teh 1st time evar, I feel like I belong.  I want 2 stay hear 4evar!  I dont even want 2 relay teh tactical secrets to Vulpitania, LOL."

"Your story truly warms my heart, Angela," I said as I tried to hold back tears.  "I'm so proud of my Ixies right now."

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