had this one going for a little while, thought i'd
throw it out there and see if anyone else wanted
to put their two cents in. the basic idea was to
take the round robin, something i remember from a
journalism class back in the stone age (rolling
stones, that is), apply it to a revengefic, but
then this idea about exploring the "how this
works" mechanics proved irresistable. Also the
idea of the Wiz going on vacation and hiring a
bunch of temporaries to cover for him, some of
whom are just no good at his sort of thing, others
are. . .

Spells R Us: Temporary Help, a round robin fiction
            SRU is the creation of Bill Hart.
Various others
the creations of various others.
Good Intentions- weird mechanic story by
metroanime@mindspring.com
-----------------------------------------
        Scott entered the shop, looked around,
blinked and wondered briefly where his normal
cybercafe was,
having been replaced somehow with an eclectic sort
of antique shop.

       "Uh oh," he said as he realized where he
was. Actually he used stronger language than that,
but it was
the general sentiment.

       After roughly two minutes of trying to open
the door and escape, a voice stopped Scott in his
tracks.

       "Ah, Jamieson-san, you're late."

      "Not the LATE..."

      "Nah," the demon behind the counter waggled
his fingers in an odd hello. "Oh, and the Wiz is
on vacation. He pulled some strings and the Rival
Relief Office sent me here as a temp position."

       "I see. Well, I'll just be going now..."

        "Can't let you. Seems some of the various
fanfic writers wanted revenge on ya for the whole
revengefic thing, among others, and one of 'em ran
across the SRU webpage. They put a contract out on
ya. Unfortunately, it screwed up their plans
'cause the Wiz is off at the Miss Intergalactic
Bimbo Contest and I'm here. We gotta hurry this up
though, 'cause there's similar contracts on other
fanfic writers..."

        "Oh? Anyone I know?"

        "Well, there's some impatient folk who
wanted Zen hit cause he's so slow. Then Lurker's
got some guy
offended by his political views, and Skysaber's
gotten some of the Knights upset at him..."

         "Ah. They're all coming to Milwaukee?"

         "Nah." The incubus sat back with a grin.
"Just as I figured. The _interior_ of this store
never moves. Just the front of the store intrudes
into normal space/time. The store itself is in
upstate New York near King's place."

        "Stephen, I assume. Oh my."

        "So, you gonna make your purchases?"

         Scott stopped. "Why would I buy ANYTHING
at Spells R Us? Everything is geared towards
transformation spells."

        "More or less," admitted Grey. "And there
ARE rules of the shop. Because the Wiz works
freelance with both the Divine Justice Department
and the Infernal Revenue Service, the very good
and the very bad are outside his pervue. On the
other hand, it's fairly well known that I'm
completely incompentent at being evil. So if you
were to grab one of the Big Hunk Bars or a bottle
of Sobe Power, I couldn't tell you not to. If you
wanted to purchase the Sabre Marionette Kasumi,
you could, and I couldn't even charge you more
than the $25.37 you've got in your pockets."

           Scott stopped. "A 'Sabre Marionette
Kasumi'? What's the catch?"

          "She recharges on affection. You'd have
to treat her better than Ranma treats Akane."

           "My version or yours?"

            "Takahashi's Ranma. Early series."

            "Not a problem." Scott started
collecting change.

           "You can also make only three purchases
at maximum."

            "Also not a problem," Scott stopped.
"Can I get Lawson-san..."

          "More than you've got on you, but yeah,
there's a Sabre Marionette Nabiki version. She's
got a coin slot to recharge."

           "Figures."

           "There's also the usual variety of
things you find at Spells R Us," the demon
grinned, showing Ryouga-like fangs. "Some cursed,
some not, and a whole lotta bimbo traps."

             "That's something I've often wondered
about, actually. How come those Spells R Us
stories almost *always* feature the same woman?"

             "Well, look at a typical device," the
demon looked around the counter and pulled out a
dayglo green Uzi. Sure enough, the gun was
labelled "Plot Device 9mm" on the side. "It fires
magic bullets. Anyone who gets hit with the bullet
turns into their idea of the ideal mate. 90% of
all people are pretty damn shallow. They never
really question any of their own privately held
beliefs or philosophies, going with gut feelings
and whatever pop culture is churning out at the
moment, right?"

              Scott thought for a moment, but
allowed the demon  might have a point.

             "So the vast majority go with what
they are told should be their opinion, providing
it comes from someone that they think is an
acceptable figure of authority. Therefore the
Baywatch/California top-heavy Babe is what is
considered the ideal girl on an emotional level.
Intellectually they may realize that an oversexed
Bimbo isn't  really that attractive as a *person*
but not be rationally thinking that far ahead."

              Scott could remember being a teenage
hormone-driven boy and nodded, there were times
when thinking carefully ahead had been discarded
to the winds.

              "You kinda wonder what the head of
an anime club or a fanfic writer would look like
if you shot 'em with this, though. I mean, if
their ideal woman was Tsunami from Tenchi Muyo. .
."

              "Agreed," Scott looked at the gun,
the sudden mental image of visiting a few places
and going "postal" with it. Leaving a few places
he'd been wronged at with a sudden influx of
oversexed bimbos had a certain appeal.  He didn't
though, being familiar enough with such things to
know that it would inevitably backfire.

               "So anyway, look around. If you
don't see what you want, ask and I'll see if its
in stock. If not maybe we can get it. You know
that the Ranma over in timeline 48167 just rescued
a bunch of those Rei clones? He came up one short
during the teleport. Ended up on our receiving
dock."

                "Rei I, II, or III?"

                "Rei IX actually. I've got her
ready to be delivered over at Lurker's place in a
few. She got into the Passion Spice a little while
back, though.  If that doesn't motivate him, I
don't know what will."

 "Uhm, motivation isn't Lurker's problem." Scott
briefly wondered how many months Lurker would be
on "vacation" with this development.

 "Aw, crap. Y'mean I screwed up again?" The demon
frowned. "I just can't get the hang of this
evil stuff, can I?"
=======================================

 The Wizard growled at the demon, who merely
spread his hands and looked innocent. THAT, in and
of itself, was troubling.

 "You're a demon, right?"

 "Unfortunately. An incubus, demon fourth class,
probationary license, Grey by name. Not affiliated
with Hell, though. Rival Relief Office, as you
well know."

 "I have never, seen a demon screw up so badly at
this sort of thing. Look at him, he's busily
chatting away with a Sabre Marionette Kasumi, has
eaten a 'Three Musketeers' and is now ready to go
swashbuckling around the city as some kind of
dashing rogue. This isn't at ALL what I had in
mind when I arranged for your services."

 "I just did the best that I could," the demon
shrugged again.

 "Watch then, one of the other jobs is being done
by one of the apprentices from another mage. See
how this is SUPPOSED to work."
======================================

SKYSABER'S CHOICE. by Skysaber, naturally.

 Humming merrily to himself, Jared Ornstead
stepped into what he *thought* was his favorite
shop in the mall and came into what was obviously
the wrong place. He turned around to leave the
small, cluttered space for something more
hospitable when a voice came in clipped, British
accent from behind the counter.

 "Can I help you, sir?"

 Jared shook his redheaded hair. "Thank you, but
no. I only have another thirty minutes and desire
to spend it in the company of delicious books,
beautiful videos, and the occasional RPG tome.
Ta-tah!"

 He reached for the door handle out with the hand
not currently holding his backpack.

 "I'm afraid you won't be able to leave, sir. The
doors are magically locked. Much like valet
parking, sir. Once entered, you must make a
purchase to get out."

 The redhead looked back over his shoulder at the
shopkeeper. "Is it worth it?"

 "Could be, sir. We carry most everything you
like."

 The young redhead caught the name of the store on
a plague. "Spells R Us? I've heard of this place.
Nothing good. You might say I've been warned that
the owner is a mage who takes his fancy inflicting
mayhem."

 "Very possibly. I, however, am merely an
apprentice of his. He's on vacation. We *did* have
a demon in here working the desk, but apparently
he gave in to some inexplicable impulse and failed
to be sufficiently nasty. I *would* be willing at
least to give you a sporting chance, sir. We do
have rules of our own to live by."

 "The old English sense of fair play?"

 "Quite."

 "I've heard that most everything in here is
transformative. Could you at least confirm that?"

 "Certainly sir, you are correct. Most of the
items *do* serve that purpose. None of them take
effect until after they are put to use. We have
the occasional shoplifter, but you may rest
assured that all items do get paid for." The man
said with a nasty smirk. "Promptly."

 "Well, let us begin at the beginning." Jared
rubbed his hands together, stepping toward the
counter. The shop was divided into approximate
equal halves, with candy and racks of costumes on
his side, while boxes of various paraphernalia
stood in racks behind the counter. He'd designed a
shop or two like this himself, all the interesting
bits
(and *every* potentially useful one) would be
behind the counter where the customer couldn't
easily get at it.

 The shopkeeper tensed. "Very good, sir. What
would you like?"

 "What about a Big Hunk bar?"

 "Never have those till the end of the week."

 "As expected. Well, that does in my limited
desire for sweets. How are you for books?"

 "We have quite a broad selection."

 "Am I right in thinking that while the title is
important the actual storyline has some bearing?"

 The man behind the counter winced. "In the case
of a magazine, no. But in the case of something
with a definite plot, yes, the title is not the
only consideration. Most people aren't supposed to
know that."

 Jared smelled triumph. "Do you have The High Tech
Knight, by Leo Frankowski?"

 "Is this about cybernetics, sir?"

 "No, as a matter of fact it's about a man with
vast engineering expertise getting a brief hop
back in time; gaining noble title, women, wealth,
and becoming the defacto ruler of medieval Europe
with very little opposition. Very much like a
happy version of A Connecticut Yankee in King
Arthur's Court."

 The shopkeeper sweated slightly, then turned and
gave a brief and totally inadequate check on the
bookshelves. "No, we don't seem to keep it in
stock."

 "The Radiant Warrior in the same series?"

 "Get it fresh on Monday."

 "I am inclined to wait."

 "Ooops. Gads. I was mistaken. We don't carry
books here, sorry."

 "You sure?"

 "Quite."

 "Not, Dragon's Companion, by Don Callander?"

 "No, sir."

 "Not, Pyromancer, by the same author, or The
Warlord of Mars by Edgar Rice Burroughs?"

 "I'm afraid not." The counterperson replied
flatly.

 The redhead's eyes twinkled merrily. "Ah. Never
you mind. What about High Crusade, by Paul
Anderson?"

 The shopkeeper felt a brief moment of curiosity.
"And what would that be, sir?"

 "Ah, well you see, it's very much the reverse of
that wonderful book I mentioned earlier. You see
in this case a starship full of aliens lands back
in medieval England, vastly underestimates the
ferocity of the native inhabitants, ends up with a
cavalry charge up the main ramp into the body of
their ship, which leads to an accident where the
entire town and their abby are transported into
space where they have no choice but to
successfully decimate the alien empire and conquer
it for the greater glory of God and Great Britain,
suffering almost no casualties in so doing."

 "Ah." The Englishman fought hard against the odd
appeal of that thought. "No. As I said, we don't
carry any books here."

 "Really? I think I see some right there over your
shoulder."

 "Purely window dressing, sir. They're not for
sale."

 Jared fingered the straps on his backpack and
eyed the door as if considering. "Then what *is*
for sale here?"

 "Just about everything else, sir."

 "For example?"

 "We've got videos, sir."

 "Real Genius?"

 "No."

 "The Saint?"

 "Specifically forbidden to stock that item, sir."

 "How about 'The Best of 007'?"

 "Rerecorded over it last night with a copy of
Barney. I'd be willing it to give you at a
discount."

 "You are joking? Thank you, but no. Ah! Another
excellent title. What about The Wizard of Speed
and Time?"

 "Against union rules to carry that sort of thing,
sir."

 "Truly? A delightful movie."

 "I'll take your word for that, sir. How about a
copy of The Sorcerer's Apprentice instead?"

 "I'm allergic to being small, with round ears,
and named Mickey." The customer retorted dryly.

 "I take it you've seen the movie then, sir."

 "Quite." Jared deadpanned. "Oh well. I suppose
there's nothing for it but to begin scraping the
bottom of the barrel. Do you have a copy of
Superman, by any chance?"

 The shopkeeper's eyes bugged. He stuttered a
minute before recovering himself and coughing into
his hand. "Uh, no."

 "You sure?"

 "Yes."

 "Not worth just looking?"

 "Definitely not."

 "Well, I don't suppose you carry Dragonslayer,
IQ, The Immortals, Merlin, Dragon Half, or The
Mystic Masters of China, by any chance?"

 Looking slightly pale the shopkeeper reached one
hand under the counter and rattled it around
uselessly, quickly terminating his pretend search.
"Sorry, we seem to be right out of videos."

 "I thought you said you had plenty."

 "Sorry, brief magnetic pulse wiped them all out.
No help for it."

 Jared leaned an elbow on the counter. "Look, I'm
getting a bit fed up with this.  Are you quite
sure you've got any merchandise in here at all?"

 "Quite. Just look around you, sir. Shop's full of
it."

 "So I can see."

 "No, I mean we've got a staggering variety of
merchandise, just take your pick." The shopkeeper
waved to the shelves.

 Jared glanced significantly at the door. "Are you
certain that spell will hold me if I can
legitimately not find anything I'd care to buy?"

 "Uh...." The apprentice adjusted his collar.
"Look, if you'd care to look around..."

 "And *should* there be an obligation to buy in
spite of that what is to stop me from taking and
detonating a small purchase harmlessly? For
example taking that rather convenient box of girl
scout cookies and feeding them to an actual girl
scout? Or are they not for sale as well, for some
mysterious and unguessable reason?" He asked quite
dryly,
drumming his fingers on the counter.

 "Would you like a Scandinavian, sir? Fascinating
taste."

 "Where do you think the name Ornstead comes from?
Tibet? But while I could claim that ancestry I'd
rather not play with the other likely effects."

 The shopkeeper stood there helplessly.

 Jared sighed, stepping back from the counter. He
eyed the door. He might as well get this over
with. "Look, I stated three interests when I came
in here and you claimed quite openly that you
could fill them. I am willing to speculate that if
I state the third one and you claim not to have it
the shop's own magic will do something rather a
bit nasty to you. Fair guess?"

 The apprentice appeared nervous. "Could be, sir."

 "How well set up are you for RPG supplies?"

 "We carry practically everything, sir."

 "So you said before."

 "In this case it's true, sir."

 "Heroes Unlimited?"

 "Ahhh... No. Sorry, sir. Just caught us out."

 "Oh, never mind. How are you for Marvel
Superheroes?"

 "Would you take Villains Unlimited instead?"

 "No. But you never said if you had my request."

 "No, it seems to have scampered away off the
shelf while we were talking. Take me weeks to find
it."

 "Weeks I have."

 "Oh dear. The cat's eaten it."

 "I won't ask you what kind of cat you have to eat
a softbound rulebook."

 "Wise of you, sir."

 "Is the Ultimate Powers rule supplement for that
game out of the question?"

 The shopkeeper spent a few moments choking.
Looking quite pale the man shook his head that it
too was not available.

 "Deities and Demigods?"

 The shopkeeper spent minutes hacking but
indicated that that also was unavailable.

 "Never mind then, how about Teenage Mutant Ninja
Turtles?"

 The by now pasty face of the apprentice broke in
the wide grin of a soul redeemed.

 Jared snapped his fingers as if remembering
something. "Ooops, too bad, already have too many
copies."

 The man fell down behind his counter.

 "Ninjas and Superspies?" Jared leaned over to
ask.

 A sign emerged, held weakly in a trembling hand.
[Haven't got it in stock.]

 Jared nodded. "Ah. I see you have Genma's panda
signs. Well, what about Interstellar Pig?"

 The man rose from his crumpled position to look
at him askance.

 Jared smiled. "Ah. I see. I was only kidding, of
course. Well then, a blank sheet of paper if you
please."

 With a suspicious sidelong glance the shopkeeper
procured from the rack a small pack of lined paper
and slid it across the counter.

 With a confident smirk Jared paid for the
purchase and tore open the package, producing a
pencil and a clipboard from his backpack he took
some notes and began to transcribe.

 "What are you doing?" The clerk regained enough
curiosity to ask.

 "Well, I figured that this stuff was going to
change me according to whatever I wrote on it.
Something to tempt me to inscribe a horror story,
no doubt, or change me into a basket of fresh
oranges if I made out a grocery list, something
like that. So I am going to fill it in before I
get that urge."

 The clerk shrugged. The purchase had been made.
He was no longer involved in it, but he was
curious as to the outcome. He leaned forward. "So
what are you doing?"

 Jared shrugged, not looking up from his work.
"Just a mundane and ordinary task. My favorite D&D
character was getting a little worn so I am
transferring him to this new sheet of paper."

 "You what?" The shopkeeper choked out.

 Jared smiled. "Oh, I'm making a few changes, of
course. Trivial stuff, really. Instead of saying
'name of player' and 'name of character' I'm
adopting an older convention and listing my name
under 'name' and his under 'alias', which should,
if I'm thinking right, merge us seamlessly instead
of having a two-brains-in-one-head sortuv backseat
driver arrangement. After all, you *did* say you'd
give me a sporting chance."

 The clerk nodded. "Fair enough, sir. What kind of
character is he?"

 Jared smiled more broadly, continuing to write
swiftly and carefully. "Now that is the amazing
thing. I started this guy as a whim, something to
annoy the other players. They tend to rely on me
to play spellcasters and so I started a guy with
no spells of any kind. Just to be perverse I
grabbed two classes from Oriental Adventures, a
monk and
a Kensai, and made him double-classed."

 This didn't convey much meaning to the
shopkeeper.

 Jared glanced from under his eyebrows. "I was
unprepared for how successful a combination it
was. I had the only first level character in the
party who could, and did, kill ogres at a blow,
and more often by skill than by accident. Later on
he grew to be able to do more impressive things.
Somewhere after eleventh level he became the only
character I've ever known to kill two thousand
ghouls in a single round in hand to hand combat
without using magic. It's all perfectly legal,
too. I could show you the rules and walk you
through how he did it."

 The apprentice began to feel a certain unease
about this.

 Jared finished the first page and went on to
another, placing the first securely in his pack,
carefully titling each as he went.

 "The *truly* amusing thing," Jared went on, "is
that I never set out to make him powerful. I mean,
I've done that, where I've tweaked the rules and
played up every advantage I could to get a guy
formidable. I'm told I am somewhat good at it. But
this guy just seemed to have the most amazing
luck. I wasn't *trying* to make him tough, I was
looking to play something amusing. But every time
we came across something, like a random magic book
or a well of strange powers, he would benefit
powerfully instead of getting turned into a toad
or whatnot. He just seemed to lead a charmed life.
Like when he was maxed out in level, couldn't go
any higher as a monk, we ran across this magic
well and
everybody tossed a coin in. Most threw gold, I
tossed in a copper. While others got burps from
the well or a bag of coins spat out at them I got
maximum hit points for my level and abilities,
which, as I said, was maxed."

 "For how long?"

 Jared looked up again. "As a one-time permanent
effect. I might just as easily have been turned
into a drow, but it didn't happen. What *did*
happen later that game was the character getting
killed in a siege when the enemy summoned one
elemental more than we could handle. I died
heroically taking down an absolutely enormous fire
elemental."

 The apprentice paled. "You are deliberately
transforming yourself into a *dead* person, sir?"

 The redhead shook his head. "Nope. Back around
fifth level we'd done quite a favor for a local
king and he'd rewarded us by letting us each pick
a magic item. I'd taken one that turned out to be
an upgraded Ring Of The Phoenix. It made one
resistant to fire, and if one ever *died* of fiery
causes it instantly raised you with many
pheonix-like
attributes. Among them a total immunity to fire
and the ability to throw an infrequent fireball
through an act of will."

 The shopkeeper began to look a trifle unsteady.
He noticed that Jared's hair now looked rather a
bit like flame, even so far as dancing slightly as
the youth moved.

 Jared was having fun relaying this. "This guy
*always* has his bad luck turn good for him! And I
don't know why. Like for example, his fiery demise
and rebirth set his alignment permanently to
neutral good. He had to be lawful to be both his
classes and so he lost them in an instant, but
retained his class powers because it says so and I
blew a
few wishes controlling the damage. He just
couldn't progress any more and had to pick
something else to adventure as. So, after a
retraining trip home he came back as a first level
spellcaster, not able to use any of his old class
powers until he'd surpassed his previous level.
And he'd been a grandmaster before, so how likely
was that to happen? It was *possible*. A monk's
highest level is 17 and mages only begin to get
their highest powers at 18, or an archmage. But I
didn't feel it of immediate concern. So I refused
to worry about it and just went along having fun
with this low-level, know-nothing who had an
insane number of hit points and a bunch of
interesting innate powers from his rebirth
and whatnot. Again, I was just having fun.... that
is until the day he *did* hit archmage status and,
lo and behold! According to the rules all his
previous class powers he can now use at the same
time with no penalty!"

 The clerk gulped very heavily.

 Jared had been writing all this time and
completed the last sheet from the small stack of
paper. He waved the pencil under the clerk's nose
and that person noticed the writing implement had
become a dancing lick of purple flame, a literal
pheonix quill with a jeweled nub.

 "This guy is the most powerful warrior I'd ever
played. When that topped out he, by accident, had
to go back and start again, becoming an even
*more* powerful mage. I have a gift for creating
powerful characters, and this guy tops out every
one I've ever made. What's funny is that I'd never
*intended* any of that. His luck is something I
just can't explain. The DM I created him under
*likes* killing off characters, especially the
challenging ones. That this guy survived at all
was a miracle, that he *thrived* puts him
somewhere near the realm of Mihoshi."

 The young man stood and gathered in the last of
his supplies. "It was that luck that made me feel
I could pull this particular trick off. While as a
mage and a warrior he is powerful, it is my luck
as him that should scare you if you intend to come
after me."

 Jared, now robed in silk and cotton, picked up
his backpack and disappeared.

 No small amount of accomplishment was needed to
simply disappear through the wards against
teleporting on *this* shop.

 The clerk concluded that the owner was going to
kill him. No, worse, he was going to make him SHOP
here under his very own watchful eye. The demon
they'd hired as temporary counter help had not
managed to screw
up half so badly.

 "Oh dear."

 The Wiz turned to the demon, blinked, and made a
remark about never hiring extras from Monty Python
again.
================
well, that's it for now. anyone wanting to
contribute to this, make sure you e-mail me a copy
so i can clip it in.
The basic setup is:
a) fanfic authors/major stars/celebrities are
being "revenged" against by appearances of the
Spells R Us shop.
b) the store is being maintained by different
people, some of whom are doing this against their
will or nature (see that generally kindhearted
demon in the first part), with things going more
and more wrong for the Wiz as things progress.
c) as each chapter/segment deals with a different
"temp help" clerk, the flavor of each segment can
be quite different. Note that we went from Spamfic
in the segment i wrote to Monty Python in the
second. Anime characters, RL stars/celebrities,
SI, or whatever can be used for the salesperson.
(shudders at the thought of Happosai ever meeting
the Wizard).
d) this is just meant to be a chuckle or at least
momentarily amusing. NOT an attempt at great
literature, etc. i'm told i need to put that in
every story where i don't want to open an e-mail
file and be called filth or worse or deal with
pages of critique where i didn't meet some lofty
standard. This is not meant to advance the human
condition, the author does not condone the use of
drugs, hypnosis, transformation spells, or the
like. And yes, i use the small i on purpose,
there's a reason.


=============================================
http://metroanime.home.mindspring.com/
metroanime@mindspring.com
"this won't hurt or this will only hurt a moment."
                         -You Know You're In
Trouble When. . .