As happens now and then, we find ourselves wondering "what have we done to deserve this?" ('this' being anything from benders endless character switch to faggy's whining). I though that the end of the world would be a fine topic to renew the cog's spinning. this time, I bring the answer to the question "Why are we on this quest and what could have been done to avoid It?"

The joyful mayhem at “Chirpers” was disturbed as the doors burst open with a deafening explotion. The tables shook violently from the blast, causing glasses to tip over and spill their contents on unsuspecting diners. A bottle of feywine fell from its place on the top shelf behind the bar and shattered on the floor, leaving a dark stain on the ashwood floor. A young boy, half burnt from the searing heat of the fireball, now lay motionless next to one of the table. The occupants of the table, the well-known group of famous adventurers that just can’t seem to come up with a decent name, started dumbfounded at the boy and at the awe inspiring creature that had cast the fiery spell – a 3 foot tall halfling. The party of five rose to their feet.

“Hand over the boy!” the halfling demanded in a voice that was not of this world. Naturally, as is their norm where celestial beings are concerned, they refused.

With a shriek, the halfling grew in size until he was the incredible hight of an average man, sprouted wings and began to glow. “Hand him over!” the diva repeated his demand.

“Take the b…” Lyren began when he was overwhelmed by the creature’s aura of ‘oh’ and was forced down to his knees (not an entirely unfamiliar position…).

“Whatever biff you have with this boy,” constable Shtadt addressed the angel “it will be sorted out with the proper authorities!”

His eyes blazing with fury, the diva raised his clenched fist at the constable, the unclenched it, revealing a piece of parchment in his outstretched hand. Slowly, propelled by magic, the parchment made its way through the air until it landed gently on the table. Shtadt took it and began to read. “To whome it may concern… blah blah blah… the boy danny, a.k.a ‘the Nefilim’ is considered by this court a menace to society… blah blah blah… to be transferred to Mt. Celestia into the custody of one Michael, arcangel of war. Signed: Dermond Meelkrow, Judge at the high court of Sigil”.

“Oh well,” the constable muttered “you can take him”.

“Over my dead body!” Tharsias stepped between the boy and the diva, axes drawn.

“Well dwarf, “ the angel said calmly “you have two choices: you can give me the boy and this will all be over real soon, or you can fight me and then you’d have to escort the boy to Mt celestia where you only drink sissy feywine and you don’t get hangovers, plus you’d have to endure Maddy’s dwarf jokes and Lyren’s pointless debates. Now think hard, “ the angel smiled “is that REALLY what you want?”

“Eh…” Tharsias thought for a moment, scratching his beard, “I guess not”. Tharsias lowered his weapons and stepped aside.

“Hey!” Crisnia cried, “I will not let this innocent boy be sacrificed by brutal, mean, ruthless angels!”

“Well, priestess” the angel turned to her “I’ll make you a deal. I get the boy, and you will get this!”

The angel unbuckled his belt and let his trousers fall around his ankles. The room was illuminated brightly as the light of heaven shown from the diva’s crotch, a large ‘censored’ sign covering his oversized private parts. Drooling, Crisnia picked up the boy, shoving him toward the angel.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?” the angel asked Madmartigen, but soon realized the futility of the question, as the weapon master was too busy admiring himself to notice anything of all that had transpired.