Moridin reports on Sammael's death, ...
by Shishka
... the use of the Bowl of the Winds, and one other matter. He enters the Pit of Doom wearing wooden shoes ...
Moridin: Hey, Great Lord.
GL: HEY.
Moridin: Why didn't you tell me that you resurrected Balthamel in a woman's body? Good one!!!
GL: I THOUGHT SO. AND YOU HUMANS SAY I HAVE NO SENSE OF HUMOR.
Moridin: Not me, GL, I've always thought you were a stitch.
GL: THANKS. AND THAT'S "GREAT LORD" TO YOU, TWERP.
Moridin: Yes, Grape Lord.
GL: WHAT DID YOU SAY?
Moridin: I said "Yes, Great Lord."
GL: IT SOUNDED LIKE "GRAPE LORD" TO ME.
Moridin: I believe you misheard. Besides, if I were to refer to you as a piece of fruit, it would be a fruit suitably grand and majestic, like a watermelon or maybe one of those giant pumpkins farmers grow at Halloween. Certainly not a puny little grape.
GL: WELL, THAT'S GOOD … I THINK. HEY, WAIT A MINUTE – AREN'T PUMPKINS VEGETABLES?
Moridin: Uhhh … I'm not sure … I thought they were fruit.
GL: I'M PRETTY SURE THEY'RE VEGETABLES. OH WELL, I GUESS IT DOESN'T MATTER.
SO, WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO REPORT?
Moridin: Sammael is dead.
GL: YES, I KNOW. BUT I WASN'T ABLE TO CAPTURE HIS SOUL. WAS HE BALEFIRED?
Moridin: No, Mashadar got him in Shadar Logoth.
GL: AH, THAT WOULD EXPLAIN IT, THEN. SO MUCH FOR OLD SCARFACE.
Moridin: Yes, it is a pity.
GL: HA, DON'T GIVE ME THAT, TOMATO-BOY, I KNOW YOU WERE INVOLVED. OMNIPOTENT, REMEMBER?
Moridin: Sorry to hear that, Great Lord. There's a pill for that now, for human males, so I'm told. It might work for you, too.
GL: THAT'S OM-NI-PO-TENT, YOU PECKERHEAD.
Moridin: Oops, sorry, my mistake.
GL: UH HUH. WHAT ELSE?
Moridin: Some of the rebel Aes Sedai, some White Tower castouts, and some Sea Folk channelers used a ter'angreal to correct the weather.
GL: WHAT?!? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH ENERGY I EXPENDED FIXING THE SEASONS IN PLACE? SH*T!!!! WELL, I HOPE YOU AT LEAST TRIED TO STOP THEM.
Moridin: Uh … actually, no. But I did swear to exact some wicked vengeance on them.
GL: A FAT LOT OF GOOD THAT DOES ME. ANYTHING ELSE?
Moridin: There is one more thing, Great Lord. I hesitate to mention it …
GL: TELL ME, MORIDIN …
Moridin: Uhh … well … it seems al'Thor has gotten it into his head to try to cleanse saidin.
GL: MY, YOU'RE FULL OF GOOD NEWS TODAY, AREN'T YOU. WELL, YOU LISTEN TO ME, AND LISTEN TO ME GOOD. YOU PREVENT THAT LOW-LIFE SLUG FROM SUCCEEDING, OR YOU'LL SPEND THE REST OF THIS LIFE AS A BUCKET-BOY IN A CAIRHIENEN VOMITORIUM. GOT IT?
Moridin: Huh? What are you talking about? What's a "vomitorium"?
GL: IT'S A PLACE PEOPLE GATHER TO VOMIT, AFTER SUPPING.
Moridin: That's disgusting!!! I've never heard of such a thing!
GL: I SAW IT ON AN SNL SKIT A COUPLE OF AGES AGO (OR 5 AGES FROM NOW – HEH, HEH). IT WAS PRETTY FUNNY, ACTUALLY.
Moridin: I don't think there are any … vomitoriums … in Cairhien, Great Lord.
GL: YOU'RE MISSING THE POINT, DIMWIT.
Moridin: Well, I just think your previous threat was better, that's all.
GL: OY, EVERYONE'S A CRITIC. SO, DO YOU HAVE ANY MORE NEWS TO BRIGHTEN MY DAY?
Moridin: No, that's it, Great Lord.
GL: GOOD. BECAUSE I'VE BEEN MEANING TO ASK …WHAT THE HECK IS WITH THE WOODEN SHOES?
Moridin: Well, I thought if I wore uncomfortable footwear, you might take pity on me and let me use the OP to open a Gateway back to my palace, when we were done.
GL: NICE TRY, DUTCH-BOY, BUT I DON'T THINK SO. NOW GET THE HELL OUTTA HERE.
Moridin: Crap, now I'm gonna get blisters. Clop, clop, clop …