Author's Note: And here it is--chapter two! A shockingly fast update for me, I know...thank you for the review, Just Me! And this chapter is basically where Raistlin appears. Because he's just too good to leave out. Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Chapter 2: Trying to Take Over the World

Raistlin rubbed his hands together, cackling softly. He was forced to stop and hack into a bloody handkerchief after only a moment, but the cackle was sinister nonetheless. The uber-evil maniacle cackle was utterly lost, however, on the sickly mage's twin brother.

Caramon was, to be blunt, a dunce. He had never been the sharpest knife in the draw, although he had undoubtedly often attacked others with the aforementioned knife. Where his twin was scrawny, he was all muscle. Where his twin was cunning, he was as dumb as a doorknob. Where his twin was subtle, he had all the subtlety of Tas's wooly mammoth in a china shop. Caramon was blissfully unaware of these bizarre discrepancies, however. All he knew was that he loved the world and the world loved him, except for his brother. And the dwarf spirits. Oh, the dwarf spirits.

"What're we gonna do today, Raist?" Caramon asked, eyes shining with simple joy.

Raistlin rolled his eyes, hour-glass shaped pupils contorting eerily. "The same thing we do every day, Caramon...try to take over the world."

Caramon sighed. "Didn't you drop that after Test of the Twins?"

Raistlin tugged his robes about him, glowering at his twin in obvious irritation. "Of course not! I just scaled back a bit. I'm through with godhood, that's for sure."

"Because Astinus warned you that in the end you'd be all alone and canabalize yourself?"

Raistlin winced at his twin's literal interpretation of the great librarian's words. "NO! Why would I do something just because that pansy wanted me to? Neutral my ass...he was just too pathetic to show his face outside of his library. Godhood isn't me anymore, Caramon. World domination is much more suitable. If I was a god I'd have to deal with endless petitioners, organizing clerics, trying to dominate the pantheon, creating things...what a crock. No, not I. I will not be subjected to any such divine machinations! ONLY WORLD DOMINATION IS WORTHY OF ME! MWAHAHAHAHA--ack!"

Raistlin doubled over in a fit of coughing. As he hacked away into his handkerchief, Caramon looked on in concern. "Do you need your tea, Raist? Should I boil some water?"

A vein in Raistlin's forehead twitched. "Oh, of course, dear brother. Naturally, my cough won't worsen as I WAIT FOR WATER TO BOIL OVER A FIRE! No I don't want my tea! Just shut up and leave me to my plotting!"
Caramon sighed and shook his head. He just didn't understand his brother. All he wanted was to live on a nice farm, and raise rabbits. Soft rabbits, rabbits with green and red and blue fur...and he would keep them, and love them, and call them all George. He smiled blissfully, losing himself in his dream even as Raistlin finished his daily attempt to hack up a lung and returned to his Evil Plotting.

-o-o-o-o-o-

The twins had no idea that at that very moment, three of their friends were searching for them, with little success. Their journey had been momentarily halted by Tanis's anguished breakdown in the middle of the bridgewalk.

"Oh Sturm, what will I DO? You die, Flint dies, Raistlin leaves for the Abyss, all of my advisors are GONE! HOW CAN I EVER DECIDE ANYTHING AGAIN!"

Sturm patted his friend awkwardly on the back, glancing around nervously. If anyone saw this, the knight would never live it down. Which was an odd thing to be worrying about, seeing as he was already dead. "But you still have Laurana, remember, Tanis? Remember? That's right...take a deeeep breath..."

Sturm rubbed his forehead wearily. If only Tanis's uber-leadership skills would kick in...

"Where'd Tas and Flint go?" Laurana asked, glancing around. She was quickly growing bored with her future husband's incessant whining and was severely put out that she hadn't had the foresight to vanish along with her two diminutive friends.

Tanis's head snapped up. Suddenly, his mind was crystal clear. He had entered...Fearless Leader Mode.

"They've been accosted--we must REScue them! Quickly, Sturm--let's away!"

The knight was speechless for a moment. Then, coming to his senses, he realized that such a search would be pointless. "No, Tanis--we mustn't chase after them! Most likely Tas dragged Flint off in some hairbrained scheme...we have to find Raistlin and Caramon. That's the only way out of this insanity."

Tanis struggled with his conscience for a moment. As Marshall Medan had so aptly put it in Dragons of a Lost Star, it was time to choose between duty and love. Tanis belatedly remembered that he was dead long before Marshall Medan arrived in Qualinesti, but this minor detail was lost in righteous anger at the idea of a Dark Knight making eyes at his wife.

"All right--we must find the Majere brothers before this goes any farther! Come, quickly!"

Tanis strode off, miraculously making no sound in his elven leather boots even though he was stamping his feet full force into the bridge walk. Because elves are just cool like that. Laurana followed in similarly silent fashion, but Sturm was hopelessly noisy. His antique armor clanked at every step, his sword rattled in its sheath--even his breathing seemed noisy compared to the elves.

Tanis and Laurana glared at the knight. Being all silent and woodscrafty made it hard to go for walks with their friends sometimes. Chagrined, the knight took another quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, then sighed deeply and began to tiptoe. Tanis and Laurana watched for a moment, then turned, satisfied at last. The three friends continued on to Raistlin and Caramon's house.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Tas and Flint, meanwhile, were wandering the ground level of Solace. Tas was happily playing a flute he had somehow "acquired," while Flint was trying to cover his ears and snatch the flute away at the same time, with little success.

"You doorknob, where are we going!? And stop it with that flute!"

Tas stopped playing for a moment, considering. Where were they going? It was time to use…the Kender Body Compass, as revealed in Dragons of a Vanished Moon. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, stuck out one finger, and spun around. Flint watched in stunned silence.

"Okay…that way is north. Let's go, Flint!"

Flint mouthed silently in fury for a moment. "You--you--what!?"

"Let's visit Gerard. He has an awfully nice jail, although you're dead a long time before they built it. Actually I was too, but you can't let that slow you down."

They traveled on, and to Flint's surprise, Gerard's jail appeared. Flint frowned; something was very, very wrong here…

"This plot…it's not just AU, it's completely cobbled together! Now, if dwarves had built this plot, you wouldn't see this shoddy work, oh no…"

Tas rolled his eyes. "C'mon, Flint--let's go visit Gerard!"

Flint sighed wearily. He couldn't figure out for the life of him what was going on, but at the very least, he would keep an eye on Tas.

Together, the two friends knocked on the door of the jail…

-o-o-o-o-o-

Raistlin sat in his chair. He didn't want to sit in his chair--he wanted to be pacing. But his mutilated lungs wouldn't allow for such luxuries. He had to make do.

"Caramon--pace!"

"But…but why, Raist?" Caramon asked, bewildered. He just wanted to keep thinking about his rabbits…

"JUST DO IT!"

With a sigh, Caramon rose to his feet and began pacing, trying not to bang into anything. His body was powerful, but he lacked finesse. If he tripped, he knew it would be curtains for both of them, as the floor would most likely not survive the big man's body slamming into it.

Caramon's pacing was going surprisingly well when suddenly, a dark figure materialized in front of him. Shocked, he tripped.

With a crash, Caramon fell through the floor and landed on the bridge walk below. With another sigh, he decided to visit the Inn of the Last Home. He needed some dwarf spirits…

Meanwhile, Raistlin shuffled off to the fireplace to boil some water for his tea, completely ignoring his unexpected guest (or was he unexpected? insert twilight zone music).

The unexpected guest gave a polite cough, shuffling his feet awkwardly.

Raistlin continued to ignore him.

The unexpected guest gave a less polite, more forceful cough, tapping his foot.

Raistlin continued to ignore him.

The unexpected guest had had enough. "Aren't you going to say ANYTHING after I just materialized out of nowhere into the middle of your house? Even you must be surprised."

Raistlin rolled his eyes again. He was in a sarcastic mood today. "Oh, of course I was surprised. You materializing wasn't AT ALL predictable, after you did it in Test of the Twins and Dragons of Summer Flame and everywhere ELSE. You ALWAYS materialize. You're like some kind of addict."

"You're one to talk about addiction," the expected guest muttered, pulling his hood back in a foul mood. He hated being expected. Surprising people by materializing right in front of or behind them was something of a hobby.

"And besides," added the guest, who was now revealed to be the dark elf Dalamar, "I'm a wizard. It would be idiotic for me to walk all the way here from Palanthas when I could just materialize."

Raistlin poured out the water and shook the herbs into his tea. He took a sip and was able to breath more easily. He could brew his tea WITHOUT Caramon's help. HA. He wasn't dependent on his lummox of an older brother. Much.

"What are you doing here anyway? I'm still wearing the red robes, you shouldn't even know me."

Dalamar plunked down in Caramon's vacated chair, skirting the hole in the floor. "That's just it. I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be in the story at all. What have I got to do with some pre-War of the Lance quest by the Heroes of the Lance? It's terrible..."

Raistlin was silent for a moment, thinking. Then his eyes lit with realization. "Ah...then that means you have--"

"--Displaced Character Syndrome. I know."

Raistlin's eyes narrowed. "How many others have been affected, I wonder...? And will this affect my plans for world domination?"

"...world domination?" Dalamar replied. "I thought you wanted godhood."

"I've been over this already. I changed my mind. What's so bad about that? Can't an evil genius change his mind once in a while? You change your mind all the time--first you're a spy, then you're Master of the Tower, then you're going out with Jenna, then you're living in Nightlund, then you're serving Malys and Takhisis and anyone else who'll listen to you, then--"

"Shut up--that wasn't my fault!"

"Oh, of course not," Raistlin replied caustically. "Nothing is ever your fault. I suppose you were just scarred as a child, or something. Hmph..."

"Well, I was!" Dalamar protested. "Traumatic events have shaped my entire life. First I'm exiled, then that moronic dwarf steals my Glasses of True Seeing, which Tasslehoff Burfoot somehow ends up with, then you burn perpetually bleeding wounds into my chest, then Chaos almost kills me, then Tahkisis steals the world! What did you expect? You do what you can..."

"This is exactly why you would never be able to achieve godhood," Raistlin said, shaking his head. "I had convictions. I had principles. I had a steady girlfriend for over 300 years, which is more than you can say, and you're about 5 times my age."

"That doesn't count!" Dalamar protested. "Crysania was a pawn in your power struggle, and you did not know her for hundreds of years, you time-traveled! And I'm an elf--of course I'm much older than you! Principles? What principles? I have principles."

"The principle of serving yourself?" Raistlin snapped.

"Exactly," Dalamar said calmly. "And I, unlike you, didn't have to spend the rest of my life in an eternal slumber after locking myself in the Abyss."

Raistlin ground his teeth. That was still a sore spot, or rather it would be a sore spot, or perhaps it had been a sore spot, or perhaps...

Stupid Displaced Character Syndrome. It was a mess to deal with. Raistlin realized there was only one thing to do.

"Hmmm...we must end this irritating displacement. But how to do that? The gods, perhaps? No...they're all losers anyway. Maybe I should go visit Crysania...? Hmm...tempting, but I doubt that would end well..."

Dalamar considered this. "Well...what about the kender?"

"What kender?" Raistlin muttered, not really listening. His ideas were obviously much better than Dalamar's. He didn't even have to listen.

"You know--Tasslehoff Burfoot. He always seems to be at the heart of these bizarre plots..."

"Tas? Please tell me you're joking. A wizard looking for a kender? That would be a disgrace to the magic."

"It's true," the dark elf protested. "He was friends with Paladine, he destroyed a Dragon Orb, figured out how to operate another, he altered the timeline and, I might add, helped stop your ascent to godhood, and then he found the world. He's always a plot device somehow."

Raistlin was silent. Dalamar, it turned out, actually had had a good idea, but there was no way Raistlin would admit this. There was no one as powerful as him. No one.

"I'm leaving. I have to go find that brother of mine...you might as well stay here. No one ever visits, you won't be displaced any further."

The dark elf nodded morosely. Damn this Displaced Character Syndrome...he had no idea where he was, when he was, what he was doing there--nothing. Couldn't he at least have appeared as himself from the time before Raistlin mutilated him? But no. Raistlin got to appear as his old, un-evil self, and Dalamar appeared post-Raistlin torment, pre-Head of Black Robes. It was all so unfair...

While Dalamar was bemoaning his fate, Raistlin stepped out and began limping off to find Tas, leaning heavily on the Staff of Magius. Stupid kender...if he was behind this...

Caramon, meanwhile, was happily throwing back glasses of dwarf spirits (he had appeared in his pre-alcoholic phase) when he suddenly realized that Raistlin would need him. Standing up abruptly (and accidentally knocking over the table), he rushed off to find Raistlin.

"Raist is so weak with that cough...he's probably still at home. Anyway, where would he go?"

Nodding decisively, Caramon clomped off home.