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seriousficTitle: Craig Horner Gets Into Trouble With Sheep
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker/LotS RPF
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,018
Characters/Pairings: References to Richard/Kahlan and Cara/Kahlan
Author's notes: Maybe a little inspired by this interview.
Summary: After offending Zeus, King of the Gods, Craig Horner wakes up to find that he has become his character Richard Cypher and must defeat Darken Rahl. So yes, it’s a hard-hitting look at race relations.
It was good to be Craig Horner, thought Craig Horner. He walked the New Zealand countryside, occasionally accepting gifts from the public. They were an adoring lot, even if he was sure that they were sure that he’d been in Lord of the Rings. So not only had someone given him a free muffin, but he had a love scene with Bridget coming up, and Amazon had finally delivered Batman: Arkham Asylum into his hot little hands. Yes sir, everything was coming up Horner.
Finishing his muffin, he saw a herd of sheep grazing in a valley. Darting out into the wildflowers was the smallest, cutest, most fluffiest baby lamb Craig had ever seen. Just like with Bridget’s hair, he had to pet it, even if it led to rumors that he had an evil hairdresser twin.
“C’mere, little fella…” Craig whispered soothingly as he crept up to the baby lamb. “Let Uncle Craig give you a big hug.”
The lamb stared at him in confusion, then turned to run. But months of fight scenes had given Craig lots of practice at leaping through the air, and he bore the lamb down and rubbed his face in its fuzz. “Coochie-coo! Coochie-coochie-coo!” The lamb quickly warmed to him and baaed happily in his embrace. Craig Horner was friends with Bridget Regan, after all, and Bridget Regan was friend to all animals. “I’m going to name you Spartacus, after that new show we’re making for some reason.”
“MORTAL, HOW DARE YOU PROFANE MY SACRED HERD WITH YOUR SNUGGLING!” a booming voice boomed.
Clutching Spartacus protectively to his chest, Craig looked up to see a seven-foot-tall man standing over him. He had a long white beard, wore a flowing robe, and faintly glowed.
“Santa, you’re real?”
“FOOL! I AM ZEUS, FATHER OF ALL THE GODS!”
“Oh yeah, I remember you from Xena… wow, what’s it like to be played by Bruce Campbell?”
“THAT WAS AUTOLYCUS. I CAN SEE INTO YOUR SOUL, CRAIG HORNER. YOU MAKE YOUR WAGES PRACTICING AT DECEIT!”
“Acting? No, I hardly do any of that, ask anyone!”
“AS PUNISHMENT FOR YOUR CRIMES, YOU SHALL BE FORCED TO TURN YOUR LIES INTO TRUTH!”
“Okay, that sounds fair, as long as you don’t tell my mom.”
Zeus raised his hand and there was a bright flash of light. The last thing Craig heard before he lost consciousness was a plaintive “baaa.”
***
When he opened his eyes, Bridget was standing over him in-costume. A look down showed he was in-costume as well. Only he couldn’t remember changing. Had he passed out on set? Had he forgotten everything between Zeus and filming? What if he was like that guy in Memento, or Dory from Finding Nemo?
Bridget gave him another shake. “Richard, are you alright?”
“Yeah, I think so.” He sat up. “Sorry I ruined the take?” Had he fainted in the middle of a scene? That would be worse for the rumor mill than the time Tab had seen a rat during an underworld scene.
“The take?”
Crap, what did they call it in America? Craig looked around for help, but there were no cameramen, stunt doubles, or gaffers around… not that Craig knew what a gaffer looked like.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Bridget asked, giving his arm a concerned rub.
Craig rolled his eyes. “You can stop calling me Richard now, the scene’s over.”
Bridget put her hands on her hips. “And what would you prefer I call you?”
“Uh… Craig?”
Fed up, Bridget pulled Craig to his feet. “This is no time for jokes! Darken Rahl’s castle is only a league away and the resistance is waiting for you to lead them into battle!”
Craig froze as Bridget’s vehement words sunk in. Then he burst into laughter. “Oh, I get it! This is a practical joke! You’re getting back at me for the time I told you Raimi wanted you to audition for Spider-Man 4 in-character.” She might have thought it was funny if he told her she was up for Mary-Jane Watson or Gwen Stacy. Not the Walrus.
“Richard, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Could you explain it to me when we get back to camp?”
Craig nodded. Maybe it was a surprise party. Was he having a birthday? Getting married? Winning a Kids’ Choice Award? Whatever it was, there’d probably be cake. He followed Bridget.
She led him out of the meadow and into the woods. It was a long trip. There was no trail, so they were mostly going up and down hills. The sword strapped to Craig’s hip kept banging against his leg. It felt heavier than usual.
Finally, they came to an encampment. Craig’s jaw dropped. There must’ve been a hundred tents encircling the fortress, a big dark castle that looked like Skeletor’s summer home. The towering walls were covered in guards shouting obscenities down at the camps. Peasants in mismatched armor, hundreds of them, milled about the camp, preparing for battle.
“My god,” Craig muttered. “You got a lot of people in on this prank.”
“What’s a prank?” Bridget asked.
“No worries, ‘Kahlan.’ Lead me to the party. Will there be Mord’Sith strippers?” Other Craig (Parker, that is) had always said they should get Mord’Sith strippers. Proper Craig had wondered how they would take their clothes off.
“Strippers? Will they be able to stop Rahl’s assassins?”
“Sure. We’ll send them in, they’ll give the Mord’Sith lap dances, and we’ll sneak past once they go into the Champagne Room.”
“I’ll tell Zedd to work on that.” Bridget pulled open a tent flap. “The resistance leaders have a battle plan they’d like to show you.”
The tent was a great set. There was armor and maps and candles. It looked a lot better than anything those Merlin ponces could come up with. And Jay Laga'aia was there! He hadn’t known Chase was coming back so early.
“Jay!” Craig cheered, giving the recurring actor a hug. “How’s your life partner?”
“You mean Emma? She’s fine.”
“Emma? Ha! It’s cool, we all know you’re queer as a three-dollar bill. So, what’s the ‘battle plan’?” he asked with air quotes.
“The, uh, ‘battle plan’,” he awkwardly mimicked Craig’s air quotes, “is that we will strike in the—“
“I’m sorry, but is this the best the prop department can do?” Craig held up the map. It just looked like a bunch of lines. “Is second unit going to shoot the close-ups? Because c’mon, I could draw a better map than this. With crayons. Hey, is this for a treasure hunt?”
“Richard, it was the best I could do on short notice,” Jay said. “As I was saying, during the night, we’ll pretend to surrender, then when Darken Rahl comes to get us….”
“Yeah, well, the writers told me that you’re a traitor, so that’s probably a trap. Anyone else got a plan?”
“What?” Jay demanded. “I’m no traitor!”
“He’s lying!” Bridget exclaimed.
Jay drew a knife. “Stay back!”
“Wow.” Craig took a closer look. “That looks so real! My apologies to the prop guys.”
“I said stay back!” Jay slashed at him and Craig winced back. The knife cut his arm. “Oww!”
Jay stiffened, then lost consciousness. Tab stood behind him with her Agiel. “Are you alright, Richard?”
“No! It broke the skin! I had no idea he was so method!”
“Take him to the stocks!” Bridget ordered. “Leave us, the Seeker and I need to be alone.”
The tent quickly emptied. As soon as the last soldier was gone, Bridget’s mask of stoicism dropped. Acting! Genius! (Craig loved that sketch.) “Richard…”
Craig waved her off. “It’s cool. It hurt a lot worse that time the stuntman busted me in the nose.”
Bridget was still grabbing up a bundle of bandages and tending to him. Craig was getting a bit sick of this. He got cut and they didn’t even call a doctor? What if he needed a tetanus shot? It was time to end this. And the best way he knew to do that was to get Bridget to break character by snorfling. Tab did it all the time, so how hard could it be?
“Kahlan,” Craig said seriously, summoning all his acting talent and also puffing his chest out a bit. “Sometimes I feel like we’re on a boat together. And you’re about to jump out into the water and drown. So I climb out onto the railing with you and say ‘You jump, I jump.’”
“That’s beautiful, Richard.” Bridget stroked his cheek. “So beautiful.” Then she kissed him.
Well, that made up for the knifing.
Okay, so a little tongue action wasn’t going to get Bridget Regan’s goat. Clearly, he had to take this a little further. So he put his hand on her waist. She kept kissing him. Well, surely if he slipped his hand downward… Nope. Maybe if he gave it a light slap.
Bridget took his hand and placed it on her breast before kissing him again.
Craig Horner was getting to second base with Bridget Regan. Clearly, the god Zeus had transported him to a parallel universe where Legend of the Seeker was real.
Mondays!
Which made this whole thing kinda hinky, since Kahlan thought he was Richard and he was really Craig. He stopped kissing her, which was harder than it sounded. “We can’t do this.”
“You’re right,” Kahlan said, panting in a really kissable way. “We have to stop Darken Rahl.”
“Plus, TV shows always start to suck after the sexual tension gets resolved. Look at Moonlighting!”
“Huh?”
“Oh, you can’t… no DVDs or Bravo here… Okay, let’s go stop Darken Rahl! Wait, no…” Craig stuffed his head between Kahlan’s breasts and motorboated like a flotilla. “Okay, it’s out of my system.”
***
On the eve of battle, disaster struck. In the face of Darken Rahl’s totally awesome dragon, some of the men were deserting. Craig found a tree stump, then stacked a chest on it, then climbed on that, standing before the grumbling soldiers. It was time to bust oratory on them, Lincoln-Douglas style.
“I understand some of you want to leave. You’re afraid of a little thing like getting killed. Well, let me tell you something. Darken Rahl may take your lives, but he’ll never take YOUR FREEDOM!”
They didn’t raise their fists and cheer, which kinda ruined the moment.
“Yes, but… we’ll be dead,” someone said.
“And naked!”
“In hell!”
Craig raised his arms, calming them down. “Listen, I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day. An hour of woes and shattered shields, when the age of men comes crashing down! But it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you stand, men of the West!”
Silence. But at least there were no crickets chirping.
“So, even if we win, one day everything is going to go to shit?”
“I’m from the East!”
Alright, time to bring out the big guns. “Let me be clear: Yes. We. Can.”
“We can what?”
“You know…” Craig waved his hands. “Change!”
“What kind of change?”
“Uh… a hopeful change!” Craig shook his fist with progressively smaller shakes. “Hope… change… and the American way…” Whoever the Midlands equivalent of Scott Brown was, he would be getting a lot of votes.
“Come on, boys, let’s go home. Maybe the next Seeker can fulfill the prophecy.”
“And have sex with Kahlan.”
That tore it! “Hey, you know what you guys are? You’re ducks!”
The deserters stopped, trying to figure out how in the hell they were any kind of bird.
“Have you guys ever seen a flock of ducks flying in perfect formation? It's beautiful. Pretty awesome the way they all stick together. Ducks never say die. Ever seen a duck fight? No way. Why? Because the other animals are afraid. They know that if they mess with one duck, they gotta deal with the whole flock. I'm proud to be a duck, and I'd be proud to fly with any one of you. So how about it? Who's a duck?”
Quacks filled the air. Craig had never been more proud of a birdcall.
***
They’d come up with a pretty good non-trap plan with Chase Brandstone out of the way. Kahlan would lead a frontal assault, while Craig and Cara snuck in through the sewers. Craig had watched enough movies to know that the sewers always led straight to the evil overlord’s lair.
“Look after my heart,” he told Kahlan before leaving. “I’ve left it with you.”
She clutched a hand to her chest.
That just left the business of wading through a couple miles of sewage. Craig missed his stunt double.
“So, Cara, tell me something… and be honest… do you have a thing for Kahlan?”
Cara looked back at him. “A thing? Do you mean disdain or just apathy?”
“You know…” Craig slowly extended his fist. “A thing. It’s okay if you do, I don’t mind.”
Cara glanced at him, softening a little. “I may care a little about her. She is a vital component in your defense.”
“So would you tap that?”
“Tap? With my Agiel?”
“Yeah, let’s go with that.”
“Yes. If she wanted me to.” Cara smiled slightly. “And she has a few times.”
“I knew it! Bridget always said I was imagining things, but I knew you two were working the subtext!”
At long, smelly last, Craig and Cara reached Rahl’s inner sanctum. Craig wiped himself off with a curtain, figuring that if he died, it would be a pyrrhic victory for ol’ Rahly.
“Alright,” he said to Cara, “when we find Rahl, I’ll distract him while you sneak up behind him and crouch. Then I’ll give him a push…”
Cara shook her head. “I can’t help you. The prophecy says that you must face Darken Rahl alone.”
“Really? Because I heard this other super-sweet prophecy about how Cara would help the Seeker defeat Lord Rahl.”
Cara look consternated for a moment, then said “Oh, I understand. You’re using humor to distract yourself from the thought of a horrible death.”
“I can’t die!” Craig squeaked. “I’m a national treasure in Paraguay!”
“Paraguay won’t save you now,” Darken Rahl tsked, stepping out of the shadows. Cara gave him her Blue Steel look, but stayed out of the way.
Craig cleared his throat. “Hey Darken, can I call you Darken? We’re brothers, we shouldn’t stand on formality. I’ve been thinking, maybe we should talk this out. After all, when has violence ever solved anything?”
Rahl unsheathed his sword and advanced. “When I killed our father and took his place as Lord Rahl.”
“What are you waiting for?” Cara demanded. “Fight him!”
Craig backed up. “Cara, let’s not lose sight of the real enemy here. Global warming.” He turned to Rahl. “Whoever wins, if the polar icecaps melt, we both lose.”
“I should have known you’d be too weak to face me.” Rahl put his sword to Cara’s throat. “Draw your weapon or I’ll split her head from her shoulders.”
Cara didn’t blink. “Richard, if I die, I’ll find it very hard to protect you, though my rotting corpse’s odor might drive assassins away.”
“Oh no, I’m not lugging someone’s corpse all around New Zealand again!” Craig whipped his sword out. “I got an A in my high school fencing class and now I’m going to drop you like my high school French class!”
Rahl’s brow furrowed in confusion, proving at last that they were truly brothers. “What?”
Craig saw his opening. He had always been good at ad-libbing. “Yo momma so fat that when she lies around the People’s Palace, she lies around the People’s Palace.”
“She does not!” Rahl insisted.
“Yo momma so dirty, soap looks at her and goes ‘I give.’”
“Stop it!”
“Yo momma so fat, she’d need the Mother Confessor to know how much she weighted.”
“Yo momma so fat,” Cara added, “she sat on an Agiel and didn’t feel it for three days!”
Rahl drew back his sword to decapitate Cara and Craig lunged, knocking the sword from his hands. Disarmed, Rahl fell to his knees. “Mercy! You wouldn’t kill your own brother, would you?”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t.” Craig lifted the sword. “But Richard’s your brother. I’m not.”
“Who are you?” Rahl gasped in disbelief.
“I’m Craig Horner, bitch! Now take that! And that! And some of this! Now sprinkle on some of this to give it a zesty aftertaste!”
“Craig, Craig stop it! Don’t hurt ‘im, Horner!” Cara pulled him away.
“Cara, what are you doing? I’ve got Darken Rahl right where I want him, on his knee with my sword—whoa, for a minute there I felt like I was on a Russell T. Davies show.”
Cara sighed. “Craig, that isn’t Darken Rahl, it’s Terry Goodkind. He’s touring the set today, remember?” Come to think of it, Darken Rahl never had worn a beard and a ponytail before. Even evil had standards. “And that’s not a sword, that’s a loaf of French beard.”
“Ah.” Craig looked at the baguette. “Wow, craft services are doing some real good work.”
“You ate Bruce’s brownies again, didn’t you?” Bridget asked. She was back to being Bridget, all wearing things that weren’t dresses, but the hands on her hips were so Mother Confessor.
“They looked so tasty!” Craig pleaded, but Bridget’s Penance Stare took no prisoners. Craig gave Terry Goodkind a hand up. “I’m sorry, I thought you were an evil tyrant dedicated to stomping out purity and imagination.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Goodkind got up and gave Craig a shove. “I hope you know how ashamed Ayn Rand would be of you.” He stormed off, pausing only to emit a choked sob.
“I hope you’re happy,” Bridget said. “You made Terry Goodkind cry!”
“Lay off, Bridget,” Tabrett said. “I think he’s learned a valuable lesson from all this.”
“Nope!”
Author’s note: The Walrus is a real Spider-Man villain. Here's one of his greatest battles.
Fandom: Legend of the Seeker/LotS RPF
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 3,018
Characters/Pairings: References to Richard/Kahlan and Cara/Kahlan
Author's notes: Maybe a little inspired by this interview.
Summary: After offending Zeus, King of the Gods, Craig Horner wakes up to find that he has become his character Richard Cypher and must defeat Darken Rahl. So yes, it’s a hard-hitting look at race relations.
It was good to be Craig Horner, thought Craig Horner. He walked the New Zealand countryside, occasionally accepting gifts from the public. They were an adoring lot, even if he was sure that they were sure that he’d been in Lord of the Rings. So not only had someone given him a free muffin, but he had a love scene with Bridget coming up, and Amazon had finally delivered Batman: Arkham Asylum into his hot little hands. Yes sir, everything was coming up Horner.
Finishing his muffin, he saw a herd of sheep grazing in a valley. Darting out into the wildflowers was the smallest, cutest, most fluffiest baby lamb Craig had ever seen. Just like with Bridget’s hair, he had to pet it, even if it led to rumors that he had an evil hairdresser twin.
“C’mere, little fella…” Craig whispered soothingly as he crept up to the baby lamb. “Let Uncle Craig give you a big hug.”
The lamb stared at him in confusion, then turned to run. But months of fight scenes had given Craig lots of practice at leaping through the air, and he bore the lamb down and rubbed his face in its fuzz. “Coochie-coo! Coochie-coochie-coo!” The lamb quickly warmed to him and baaed happily in his embrace. Craig Horner was friends with Bridget Regan, after all, and Bridget Regan was friend to all animals. “I’m going to name you Spartacus, after that new show we’re making for some reason.”
“MORTAL, HOW DARE YOU PROFANE MY SACRED HERD WITH YOUR SNUGGLING!” a booming voice boomed.
Clutching Spartacus protectively to his chest, Craig looked up to see a seven-foot-tall man standing over him. He had a long white beard, wore a flowing robe, and faintly glowed.
“Santa, you’re real?”
“FOOL! I AM ZEUS, FATHER OF ALL THE GODS!”
“Oh yeah, I remember you from Xena… wow, what’s it like to be played by Bruce Campbell?”
“THAT WAS AUTOLYCUS. I CAN SEE INTO YOUR SOUL, CRAIG HORNER. YOU MAKE YOUR WAGES PRACTICING AT DECEIT!”
“Acting? No, I hardly do any of that, ask anyone!”
“AS PUNISHMENT FOR YOUR CRIMES, YOU SHALL BE FORCED TO TURN YOUR LIES INTO TRUTH!”
“Okay, that sounds fair, as long as you don’t tell my mom.”
Zeus raised his hand and there was a bright flash of light. The last thing Craig heard before he lost consciousness was a plaintive “baaa.”
***
When he opened his eyes, Bridget was standing over him in-costume. A look down showed he was in-costume as well. Only he couldn’t remember changing. Had he passed out on set? Had he forgotten everything between Zeus and filming? What if he was like that guy in Memento, or Dory from Finding Nemo?
Bridget gave him another shake. “Richard, are you alright?”
“Yeah, I think so.” He sat up. “Sorry I ruined the take?” Had he fainted in the middle of a scene? That would be worse for the rumor mill than the time Tab had seen a rat during an underworld scene.
“The take?”
Crap, what did they call it in America? Craig looked around for help, but there were no cameramen, stunt doubles, or gaffers around… not that Craig knew what a gaffer looked like.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Bridget asked, giving his arm a concerned rub.
Craig rolled his eyes. “You can stop calling me Richard now, the scene’s over.”
Bridget put her hands on her hips. “And what would you prefer I call you?”
“Uh… Craig?”
Fed up, Bridget pulled Craig to his feet. “This is no time for jokes! Darken Rahl’s castle is only a league away and the resistance is waiting for you to lead them into battle!”
Craig froze as Bridget’s vehement words sunk in. Then he burst into laughter. “Oh, I get it! This is a practical joke! You’re getting back at me for the time I told you Raimi wanted you to audition for Spider-Man 4 in-character.” She might have thought it was funny if he told her she was up for Mary-Jane Watson or Gwen Stacy. Not the Walrus.
“Richard, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Could you explain it to me when we get back to camp?”
Craig nodded. Maybe it was a surprise party. Was he having a birthday? Getting married? Winning a Kids’ Choice Award? Whatever it was, there’d probably be cake. He followed Bridget.
She led him out of the meadow and into the woods. It was a long trip. There was no trail, so they were mostly going up and down hills. The sword strapped to Craig’s hip kept banging against his leg. It felt heavier than usual.
Finally, they came to an encampment. Craig’s jaw dropped. There must’ve been a hundred tents encircling the fortress, a big dark castle that looked like Skeletor’s summer home. The towering walls were covered in guards shouting obscenities down at the camps. Peasants in mismatched armor, hundreds of them, milled about the camp, preparing for battle.
“My god,” Craig muttered. “You got a lot of people in on this prank.”
“What’s a prank?” Bridget asked.
“No worries, ‘Kahlan.’ Lead me to the party. Will there be Mord’Sith strippers?” Other Craig (Parker, that is) had always said they should get Mord’Sith strippers. Proper Craig had wondered how they would take their clothes off.
“Strippers? Will they be able to stop Rahl’s assassins?”
“Sure. We’ll send them in, they’ll give the Mord’Sith lap dances, and we’ll sneak past once they go into the Champagne Room.”
“I’ll tell Zedd to work on that.” Bridget pulled open a tent flap. “The resistance leaders have a battle plan they’d like to show you.”
The tent was a great set. There was armor and maps and candles. It looked a lot better than anything those Merlin ponces could come up with. And Jay Laga'aia was there! He hadn’t known Chase was coming back so early.
“Jay!” Craig cheered, giving the recurring actor a hug. “How’s your life partner?”
“You mean Emma? She’s fine.”
“Emma? Ha! It’s cool, we all know you’re queer as a three-dollar bill. So, what’s the ‘battle plan’?” he asked with air quotes.
“The, uh, ‘battle plan’,” he awkwardly mimicked Craig’s air quotes, “is that we will strike in the—“
“I’m sorry, but is this the best the prop department can do?” Craig held up the map. It just looked like a bunch of lines. “Is second unit going to shoot the close-ups? Because c’mon, I could draw a better map than this. With crayons. Hey, is this for a treasure hunt?”
“Richard, it was the best I could do on short notice,” Jay said. “As I was saying, during the night, we’ll pretend to surrender, then when Darken Rahl comes to get us….”
“Yeah, well, the writers told me that you’re a traitor, so that’s probably a trap. Anyone else got a plan?”
“What?” Jay demanded. “I’m no traitor!”
“He’s lying!” Bridget exclaimed.
Jay drew a knife. “Stay back!”
“Wow.” Craig took a closer look. “That looks so real! My apologies to the prop guys.”
“I said stay back!” Jay slashed at him and Craig winced back. The knife cut his arm. “Oww!”
Jay stiffened, then lost consciousness. Tab stood behind him with her Agiel. “Are you alright, Richard?”
“No! It broke the skin! I had no idea he was so method!”
“Take him to the stocks!” Bridget ordered. “Leave us, the Seeker and I need to be alone.”
The tent quickly emptied. As soon as the last soldier was gone, Bridget’s mask of stoicism dropped. Acting! Genius! (Craig loved that sketch.) “Richard…”
Craig waved her off. “It’s cool. It hurt a lot worse that time the stuntman busted me in the nose.”
Bridget was still grabbing up a bundle of bandages and tending to him. Craig was getting a bit sick of this. He got cut and they didn’t even call a doctor? What if he needed a tetanus shot? It was time to end this. And the best way he knew to do that was to get Bridget to break character by snorfling. Tab did it all the time, so how hard could it be?
“Kahlan,” Craig said seriously, summoning all his acting talent and also puffing his chest out a bit. “Sometimes I feel like we’re on a boat together. And you’re about to jump out into the water and drown. So I climb out onto the railing with you and say ‘You jump, I jump.’”
“That’s beautiful, Richard.” Bridget stroked his cheek. “So beautiful.” Then she kissed him.
Well, that made up for the knifing.
Okay, so a little tongue action wasn’t going to get Bridget Regan’s goat. Clearly, he had to take this a little further. So he put his hand on her waist. She kept kissing him. Well, surely if he slipped his hand downward… Nope. Maybe if he gave it a light slap.
Bridget took his hand and placed it on her breast before kissing him again.
Craig Horner was getting to second base with Bridget Regan. Clearly, the god Zeus had transported him to a parallel universe where Legend of the Seeker was real.
Mondays!
Which made this whole thing kinda hinky, since Kahlan thought he was Richard and he was really Craig. He stopped kissing her, which was harder than it sounded. “We can’t do this.”
“You’re right,” Kahlan said, panting in a really kissable way. “We have to stop Darken Rahl.”
“Plus, TV shows always start to suck after the sexual tension gets resolved. Look at Moonlighting!”
“Huh?”
“Oh, you can’t… no DVDs or Bravo here… Okay, let’s go stop Darken Rahl! Wait, no…” Craig stuffed his head between Kahlan’s breasts and motorboated like a flotilla. “Okay, it’s out of my system.”
***
On the eve of battle, disaster struck. In the face of Darken Rahl’s totally awesome dragon, some of the men were deserting. Craig found a tree stump, then stacked a chest on it, then climbed on that, standing before the grumbling soldiers. It was time to bust oratory on them, Lincoln-Douglas style.
“I understand some of you want to leave. You’re afraid of a little thing like getting killed. Well, let me tell you something. Darken Rahl may take your lives, but he’ll never take YOUR FREEDOM!”
They didn’t raise their fists and cheer, which kinda ruined the moment.
“Yes, but… we’ll be dead,” someone said.
“And naked!”
“In hell!”
Craig raised his arms, calming them down. “Listen, I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. A day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it is not this day. An hour of woes and shattered shields, when the age of men comes crashing down! But it is not this day! This day we fight! By all that you hold dear on this good Earth, I bid you stand, men of the West!”
Silence. But at least there were no crickets chirping.
“So, even if we win, one day everything is going to go to shit?”
“I’m from the East!”
Alright, time to bring out the big guns. “Let me be clear: Yes. We. Can.”
“We can what?”
“You know…” Craig waved his hands. “Change!”
“What kind of change?”
“Uh… a hopeful change!” Craig shook his fist with progressively smaller shakes. “Hope… change… and the American way…” Whoever the Midlands equivalent of Scott Brown was, he would be getting a lot of votes.
“Come on, boys, let’s go home. Maybe the next Seeker can fulfill the prophecy.”
“And have sex with Kahlan.”
That tore it! “Hey, you know what you guys are? You’re ducks!”
The deserters stopped, trying to figure out how in the hell they were any kind of bird.
“Have you guys ever seen a flock of ducks flying in perfect formation? It's beautiful. Pretty awesome the way they all stick together. Ducks never say die. Ever seen a duck fight? No way. Why? Because the other animals are afraid. They know that if they mess with one duck, they gotta deal with the whole flock. I'm proud to be a duck, and I'd be proud to fly with any one of you. So how about it? Who's a duck?”
Quacks filled the air. Craig had never been more proud of a birdcall.
***
They’d come up with a pretty good non-trap plan with Chase Brandstone out of the way. Kahlan would lead a frontal assault, while Craig and Cara snuck in through the sewers. Craig had watched enough movies to know that the sewers always led straight to the evil overlord’s lair.
“Look after my heart,” he told Kahlan before leaving. “I’ve left it with you.”
She clutched a hand to her chest.
That just left the business of wading through a couple miles of sewage. Craig missed his stunt double.
“So, Cara, tell me something… and be honest… do you have a thing for Kahlan?”
Cara looked back at him. “A thing? Do you mean disdain or just apathy?”
“You know…” Craig slowly extended his fist. “A thing. It’s okay if you do, I don’t mind.”
Cara glanced at him, softening a little. “I may care a little about her. She is a vital component in your defense.”
“So would you tap that?”
“Tap? With my Agiel?”
“Yeah, let’s go with that.”
“Yes. If she wanted me to.” Cara smiled slightly. “And she has a few times.”
“I knew it! Bridget always said I was imagining things, but I knew you two were working the subtext!”
At long, smelly last, Craig and Cara reached Rahl’s inner sanctum. Craig wiped himself off with a curtain, figuring that if he died, it would be a pyrrhic victory for ol’ Rahly.
“Alright,” he said to Cara, “when we find Rahl, I’ll distract him while you sneak up behind him and crouch. Then I’ll give him a push…”
Cara shook her head. “I can’t help you. The prophecy says that you must face Darken Rahl alone.”
“Really? Because I heard this other super-sweet prophecy about how Cara would help the Seeker defeat Lord Rahl.”
Cara look consternated for a moment, then said “Oh, I understand. You’re using humor to distract yourself from the thought of a horrible death.”
“I can’t die!” Craig squeaked. “I’m a national treasure in Paraguay!”
“Paraguay won’t save you now,” Darken Rahl tsked, stepping out of the shadows. Cara gave him her Blue Steel look, but stayed out of the way.
Craig cleared his throat. “Hey Darken, can I call you Darken? We’re brothers, we shouldn’t stand on formality. I’ve been thinking, maybe we should talk this out. After all, when has violence ever solved anything?”
Rahl unsheathed his sword and advanced. “When I killed our father and took his place as Lord Rahl.”
“What are you waiting for?” Cara demanded. “Fight him!”
Craig backed up. “Cara, let’s not lose sight of the real enemy here. Global warming.” He turned to Rahl. “Whoever wins, if the polar icecaps melt, we both lose.”
“I should have known you’d be too weak to face me.” Rahl put his sword to Cara’s throat. “Draw your weapon or I’ll split her head from her shoulders.”
Cara didn’t blink. “Richard, if I die, I’ll find it very hard to protect you, though my rotting corpse’s odor might drive assassins away.”
“Oh no, I’m not lugging someone’s corpse all around New Zealand again!” Craig whipped his sword out. “I got an A in my high school fencing class and now I’m going to drop you like my high school French class!”
Rahl’s brow furrowed in confusion, proving at last that they were truly brothers. “What?”
Craig saw his opening. He had always been good at ad-libbing. “Yo momma so fat that when she lies around the People’s Palace, she lies around the People’s Palace.”
“She does not!” Rahl insisted.
“Yo momma so dirty, soap looks at her and goes ‘I give.’”
“Stop it!”
“Yo momma so fat, she’d need the Mother Confessor to know how much she weighted.”
“Yo momma so fat,” Cara added, “she sat on an Agiel and didn’t feel it for three days!”
Rahl drew back his sword to decapitate Cara and Craig lunged, knocking the sword from his hands. Disarmed, Rahl fell to his knees. “Mercy! You wouldn’t kill your own brother, would you?”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t.” Craig lifted the sword. “But Richard’s your brother. I’m not.”
“Who are you?” Rahl gasped in disbelief.
“I’m Craig Horner, bitch! Now take that! And that! And some of this! Now sprinkle on some of this to give it a zesty aftertaste!”
“Craig, Craig stop it! Don’t hurt ‘im, Horner!” Cara pulled him away.
“Cara, what are you doing? I’ve got Darken Rahl right where I want him, on his knee with my sword—whoa, for a minute there I felt like I was on a Russell T. Davies show.”
Cara sighed. “Craig, that isn’t Darken Rahl, it’s Terry Goodkind. He’s touring the set today, remember?” Come to think of it, Darken Rahl never had worn a beard and a ponytail before. Even evil had standards. “And that’s not a sword, that’s a loaf of French beard.”
“Ah.” Craig looked at the baguette. “Wow, craft services are doing some real good work.”
“You ate Bruce’s brownies again, didn’t you?” Bridget asked. She was back to being Bridget, all wearing things that weren’t dresses, but the hands on her hips were so Mother Confessor.
“They looked so tasty!” Craig pleaded, but Bridget’s Penance Stare took no prisoners. Craig gave Terry Goodkind a hand up. “I’m sorry, I thought you were an evil tyrant dedicated to stomping out purity and imagination.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Goodkind got up and gave Craig a shove. “I hope you know how ashamed Ayn Rand would be of you.” He stormed off, pausing only to emit a choked sob.
“I hope you’re happy,” Bridget said. “You made Terry Goodkind cry!”
“Lay off, Bridget,” Tabrett said. “I think he’s learned a valuable lesson from all this.”
“Nope!”
Author’s note: The Walrus is a real Spider-Man villain. Here's one of his greatest battles.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2010-02-13 09:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-13 10:15 pm (UTC)Craig stuffed his head between Kahlan’s breasts and motorboated like a flotilla. “Okay, it’s out of my system.”
This is such brillllllliant crack! LOVED it! *applause* ♥♥♥!!!
no subject
Date: 2010-02-13 11:06 pm (UTC)Cara sighed. “Craig, that isn’t Darken Rahl, it’s Terry Goodkind. He’s touring the set today, remember?” Come to think of it, Darken Rahl never had worn a beard and a ponytail before. Even evil had standards. “And that’s not a sword, that’s a loaf of French beard.”
“Ah.” Craig looked at the baguette. “Wow, craft services are doing some real good work.”
“You ate Bruce’s brownies again, didn’t you?” Bridget asked. She was back to being Bridget, all wearing things that weren’t dresses, but the hands on her hips were so Mother Confessor.
“They looked so tasty!” Craig pleaded, but Bridget’s Penance Stare took no prisoners. Craig gave Terry Goodkind a hand up. “I’m sorry, I thought you were an evil tyrant dedicated to stomping out purity and imagination.”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.” Goodkind got up and gave Craig a shove. “I hope you know how ashamed Ayn Rand would be of you.” He stormed off, pausing only to emit a choked sob.
ROFL. Best. Thing. Ever.
no subject
Date: 2010-02-13 11:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-14 12:47 am (UTC)“Yeah, I get that a lot.”
DEAD. OF. LOLZ.
no subject
Date: 2010-02-14 03:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-14 04:05 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-14 04:46 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-02-14 11:37 am (UTC)And this was so good :)
It was all awesome but some of my favourite bits:
wow, what’s it like to be played by Bruce Campbell?”...
“THAT WAS AUTOLYCUS.
Will there be Mord’Sith strippers?” Other Craig (Parker, that is) had always said they should get Mord’Sith strippers.
So how about it? Who's a duck?” Mighty Ducks ref? LOL
“I’m a national treasure in Paraguay!”
Cara gave him her Blue Steel look There can never be too many Zoolander refs :)
“You ate Bruce’s brownies again, didn’t you?” snorfle!
So adding to memories :D
no subject
Date: 2010-02-14 02:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-03-01 10:57 am (UTC)Dubcon lamb hugging! This is super crack.
no subject
Date: 2010-06-11 04:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-08-05 06:57 am (UTC)