Nope, still don't own B5, any of the characters. thanks Natters for the reviews! I'm glad you liked it! I'd be happy to put a couple of my reviewers in if they'd like, just give me a description. Please forgive the strangeness of this chapter, it was written at 11 P.M. under the influence of pringles, too much soda, and insane muses.
"Beheaded?" said Morden with a little bit of anxiety. He turned and whacked the seemingly empty air beside him. However, a large black spider like creature flickered into view. It rubbed a large dent on its carapace roughly where the head would be. You didn't have to do that. It hissed reproachfully. "Oh yes I did. I'm gonna be beheaded? I wasn't consulted about this!" snapped Morden. I don't remember that being in the script. Let me check….. The shadow leafed through a large sheaf of papers awkwardly, attempting to hold and flip the pages of a script with no opposable thumbs or elbow, meaning it had to hold it out at legs length with two legs, which caused a the danger of falling flat on your face. However, he managed it. The shadow's eyes widened, as he hastily attempted to eat the script. However, due to the aforementioned awkwardness of the legs, and that even the shadows themselves are not quite sure where the mouths are, or even if they even have them, it was failing rather miserably. Morden grabbed for it, and the shadow twisted to keep it out of his grasp. Morden tried again, which resulted in a sort of strange ballet looking thing for a few minutes. Finally Morden pointed beyond the shadow, who turned to look, and snatched the script while he was occupied. Flipping rapidly through it with the advantage of thumbs, he soon came to the relevant part. "What the crap! I do get beheaded! Now that's just not fair! All I ever did was attempt to trap people in the shadow's web of lies, deceit and chaos! I'm an archeologist dammit! I need something to drink!" he stormed off, the Shadow following behind, wondering at this strange human tendency to feel the need to shove things down their orifices whenever they felt disgruntled. By the time the it arrived, Morden already had a number of empty glasses by him, was holding two more, and having them shoved at him by various species who were entertained by the drunken lecture he was treating them to. "I never wanted thish ya see? I jurst wan-ned to be an archeololologister, and dig up shtuff! But then it all happened all fast, and now I'm redushed to this." He waved a glass vaguely. "Being followed around by giant invishibbable shpiyderses who only want me to ask what you want. It getsh borering after a while, ya know what I mean?" he asked throwing his arm around a nearby narn in a friendly fashion. Aat this point his shadowy companion decided it was time for him to leave before he hurt himself. Because throwing your arm around a narn all of a sudden is hurting yourself. Prodding him off the narn he shoved him the direction of the door, all while being patted vaguely and called "good ol' shpidrey". Suddenly the shadow stiffened. Quick, hide! It shoved Morden into a doorway, just in time as a Vorlon walked by. It seemed to be doing some strange dance, no; it was trying to dislodge something from the headpiece of its encounter suit. Something bright pink, and…Morden's eyes widened. Surely it couldn't be? The shadow behind him sniggered. Apparently it was. Stupid Vorlon. It smirked. With their stubby little arms. Serves them right, if they were to stupid to put arms in their encounter suits. They shouldn't be wearing them anyway, what are they, too good for us to see them? "But you don't show yourself either." Commented Morden. "You're invisible." Well yes, but, it's different! snapped the shadow. "I've always wondered why you hated each other so much. " said Morden as he began to walk back to his quarters. We were in rival frat houses at college. Said the shadow. One day the Vorlon held a wild party without inviting us. They invited all the chicks too. So we flooded their rooms with live spoo. Then they filled our rooms with carrion and shoved in 50 pak'ma'ra. And after that it just sort of….escalated. "Oh. Well that's verrrrrrry……" Morden's sentence was caught up, due to the fact that all he had drunk caught up to him and collapsed. The shadow stood around awkwardly, then dragged him into his room, where, due to it's lack of knowledge of human sleeping habits, Morden woke up the next day to find he had spent the night in his sock drawer.