..."Now, my friends... my followers... my companions, I know that I ask much of you, but please take a moment to think of that glorious day when we shall stand at the peak of Terror Mountain, gazing upon the land that is ours once more. Are you with me, fellow Slorgs?"

There was a rousing cheer from the crowd as they all bobbed their heads excitedly. "Hear, hear! We fight for that day! We fight for Mordac, Lord of Terror!"

Mordac nodded approvingly as the chanting throbbed in his ears. "I am glad to see you think likewise, fellow Petpets! I myself shall lead this glorious charge. Now... for all the Slorgs of Neopia!!!" he cried as he began to slide forward.

"FOR THE SLORGS OF NEOPIA!" the crowd roared as they followed him. As one, the mass of Slorgs began to inch forward.

Unfortunately, their energy and enthusiasm only carried them so far, and after an hour, many of the Slorgs began to tire.

"Do not quit, brother!" Mordac shouted, encouraging a lagging Slorg. "Can you not see that everything we have worked for is only a slime's pace away? We are so close!"

The lagging Slorg nodded and pushed on. The crowd cheered again and began to surge forward...

...until they were stopped by a booming giant voice.

"Well, what's this?" laughed the voice of the Cybunny shopkeeper of Spooky Pets. "How'd you little guys get out? You're lucky I managed to catch you before you reached the door!"

With that, the fleeing horde of Slorgs found themselves scooped up and unceremoniously returned to their tanks...

Mordac glared through the newly polished glass at the insolent Cybunny, who had begun to mop up the trails of slime that the Slorgs had left behind. What a fool the Neopet was, to think that with his fangs and cape he was better than the Petpets whom he cruelly kept locked in cages. When the Slorgs finally triumphed, he would be sure to make the Petpet shopkeeper his first slave.

His army of Slorgs was so determined, so strong-willed! They would be invincible, if only that brainless Cybunny wasn't in the way.

"Mordac!" At the sound of his name, he turned his head to find endless pairs of Slorg eyes looking back at him.

The Slorg whom he recognized as the one who had been struggling to keep up with the rest of the group inched forward.

"We are not intimidated by the Cybunny who calls himself our master!" he piped up bravely. "We are ready to follow you to the top of Terror Mountain! We fight for Mordac, Lord of Terror!"

Tears shone in Mordac's eyes as he watched the Slorgs cheer for him, and for the day when Slorgs would rule Neopia once more.

"My friends!" he shouted to the clamoring crowd. "The time has come to reclaim our place once more! Are you with me?"

"Yes!" cried the congregation. "We are with you! We fight for Mordac, Lord of Terror!"

Mordac was about to feed their enthusiasm even more, when suddenly he felt a furry paw slip underneath him and lift him higher and higher...

“She? I am not a she! I am Mordac, Lord of Terror, you childish fool! And Lords of Terror are never she’s!” Mordac began wiggling, trying to free himself. He gritted his teeth, partly from anger at the disrespectful creature that dared to so rudely interrupt his speech, and partly to help him bear the physical discomfort he was now feeling.

“You were keeping the pink one just for me?” the same high voice, which belonged to a young pink Cybunny who was squeezing Mordac in her paws, squealed. “Oh, Uncle, thank you!”

“The Slorg’s pink slime matches your fur so well, Nyesha,” The Cybunny shopkeeper smiled. Mordac frowned. So Nyesha was a niece of the evil merchant who kept his fellow Slorgs in the cage all their days and nights. It stood to reason that they were related; she’d certainly inherited his manners. Mordac squirmed uncomfortably as the Cybunny’s paw dug into his body. He made a mental note to take her as his second slave once the Slorg army took over.

“This trip to Terror Mountain will be so much less boring with my new Slorg to keep me company!” Nyesha said happily. “Really, I can’t believe Mama wants to bring me all the way to that frigid place. What can there possibly be to do there?” She tossed her head, squeezing Mordac again as she did so. “Anyway, Uncle, I can’t thank you enough,” she said brightly.

To Mordac’s great annoyance, Nyesha began to cart him out of the shop. “Stop harassing me at once!” he exclaimed hotly. The Cybunny didn’t seem to hear him. Mordac snorted. For all the attention those big ears attracted, they didn’t do anything. What a ridiculous pet. He, on the other hand, was built perfectly for taking over the world -- slimy, sleek, and small. As Nyesha stepped through the door, Mordac turned towards the cage containing the other Slorgs and shouted, “My friends, do not be upset by this unexpected occurrence! I shall find a way to return to you! We WILL see the day when we put our foot upon the peak of Terror Mountain!”

“Hooray for Mordac, Lord of Terror!” shouted the gathered Slorgs. “We will carry out your plan in greatest faith! We will forever fight for you!”

Mordac smiled at the rising cheer of his supporters. With an army like them, he could not fail!

The Slorgs watched their leader disappear out the door. One Slorg said, “I just thought of something... who will instruct us while our Mordac, Lord of Terror, is absent?”

“Never fear!” exclaimed the brave little Slorg who had lagged behind earlier. With great effort, he dragged himself across the cage. The other Slorgs waited patiently until, ten minutes later, he plopped himself into the place where Mordac had stood, breathing hard. Drawing his breath, the Slorg announced, “Until Mordac, Lord of Terror’s return, I, Corson, shall lead you in our great plan for domination!”

The other Slorgs let out a cheer. “Hooray for Corson, Substitute Lord of Terror! We fight under you in the name of Mordac, Lord of Terror!”

“I ask you, fellow Slorgs, will we triumph?” Corson cried.

“WE WILL TRIUMPH!”

“In Mordac, Lord of Terror’s name... for the Slorgs of Neopia!” shouted Corson.

“FOR THE SLORGS OF NEOPIA!” came the resounding echo.

Outside, the pink Cybunny was hopping happily down the dark streets of the Haunted Woods, with the Lord of Terror in her paws. “I must give you a name. How about Sweetie?"...

"Come on, Sweetie, I'll show you my house!" Nyesha said, skipping along the road. "We're going on a trip tomorrow, so you'd better have a good look at it before we leave."

"I'd rather jump off the Hidden Tower!" Mordac said defiantly. "Let me go!"

"Now, now, Sweetie, you can't wiggle around so much. I might drop you." Mordac found that the more he moved the tighter he was held, so eventually he gave up on that as a means of escape. Maybe once he saw the house he could form an plan.

"Here we are Sweetie-poo!" Mordac sat sullenly while the Cybunny led him through room after room, babbling about interior design and shiny objects. Finally she opened a door and said with a voice even more shrill than usual, "And here's our room!"

It was a nightmare. In general, Mordac had nothing against the color pink -- on the contrary he was rather proud of his own delicate color. This, however, was insanity. The walls were pink, the carpet was pink, the bed was pink, the canopy was pink. There were were pink curtains and pink shelves with pink plushies and pink books. Anything that wasn't originally pink had been buried beneath pink knick-knacks, pink lace, and mirrors with pink frames reflecting infinite copies of the other pink items. It was an utter nightmare.

"Isn't it lovely, Sweetie? You'll be right at home here!" and with that Mordac was thrust into a pink-tinted glass tank, and Nyesha flounced out of the room.

"What are we to do, Corson?" a small Slorg asked. Having finshed dinner there was nothing left to do except wait for breakfast, and the Slorgs got bored easily. "Do you have a plan?"

"A plan for what?" Corson asked, curious. "What are we trying to do?"

"I don't know," the Slorg said sulkily. "Mordac always had a plan."

"Well... well I have a plan too," Corson said, thinking quickly, "We're going to... we're going to escape."

"We did that already," a different Slorg complained. "Let's do something new."

"But... but we have to escape so that we can find Mordac," Corson said a bit desperately. "You want to find Mordac, don't you?"

"Yes, I suppose so," the Slorg said doubtfully. "If we escape we can find him?"

"I... I think so... I mean of course! As soon as we can break free from the grips of this--" what was that word Mordac had used so often? "--tyranny, we will be able to do whatever we want... like... um... find Mordac, Lord of Terror!"

There were a few cheers. Well, it's a start, Corson thought nervously. "Listen, friends, I have a plan..."

The Cybunny shopkeeper suddenly burst into the room like a typhoon off the shores of Mystery Island, carrying an assortment of bags and talking excitedly to himself. "Little Nyesha has no idea that we are going to have her birthday party on Terror Mountain," he said aloud. "She's going to be so excited, but I'm going to have to hurry if I want to get there in time to set up the decorations." Leaving his bags on the floor, he hurried into the back room to gather a few more items.

Suddenly, an idea blossomed into the barren landscape of Corson's mind. "The small Cybunny," he began, "she who took our leader from us is going to be on Terror Mountain tomorrow. We will hide in those bags and the silly fool who keeps us locked in this clear prison will, unknowingly, give us a lift. Once we are on Terror Mountain, we will find Mordac and then he will lead us to victory in gaining control of Neopia!"

A general cheer rippled and grew through the cloud of the slimy Petpets, until one hesitant voice spoke up. "How will we get out of this tank?"

Corson took a deep breath and spoke slowly, enouncing each word as a new idea came to him. "We will create a ladder of Slorgs," he answered. "By stacking ourselves against the glass, we can help each other reach the top and the other side."

He was unsure how the others would take to the idea, but his fears were relieved when he saw them begin to make the ladder of living Slorgs. Perhaps he wasn't such a bad leader after all.

Mordac was miserable his new pink tank with its plastic, pink flora that emitted a nauseatingly sweet scent constantly. This was no respectful place for the future ruler of Neopia, he thought as the young Cybunny reentered the room carrying something in her soft paws.

"Here we go," she announced in a singsong voice. "Now, I'm going to make you so pretty." To Mordac's horror, he realized his captor was carrying a pink polka-dotted dress -- Slorg size.

"No!" he screamed with all his might, but the Cybunny still advanced holding that tiny dress out towards him...

As she began bustling around her room, gathering little chairs to set around her table and pouring water into tiny cups, Mordac fumed. He had lost enough of his dignity. He may have been forced away from his loyal followers and friends. He may have been abducted into a pink nightmare. He may be wearing a cute pink dress. But he would not tolerate being known as "Sweetie." No. He was Mordac, Lord of Terror, and she would know it.

He'd already tried communicating vocally to her, but she was deaf to his voice. It left only one way. Mordac began crawling slowly, deliberately, along the floor, allowing his pink slime to leave a trail across the lighter pink carpet.

Humming to herself, Nyesha continued to prepare their "house." She dug around her shelves, pulling out a pink-and-white teapot in case they wanted refills. "I'll go get some crackers," she said gleefully. "We can pretend it's tea time!"

As she hopped off, making sure to close the door behind her, Mordac did not abandon his task. His movements were slow and painstaking, but precise. She would know his name. She would fear it when she was his slave.

The door opened only a few minutes later, and the Cybunny glanced down at Mordac with the crackers in her paw. Her face transformed into a beam, and she erupted into giggles. There, on the carpet, he had managed to spell: "I-AM-MO"

"No, silly Sweetie!" she cried, scooping him up in her free hand. "You're not Mommy! I am Mommy. Now, sit here, and you can have a cracker and some play-tea. See? Look at this pretty teapot. The flowers match your dress!"

For the first time, Mordac began to feel despair. His mind, once full of escape plans and inspirational speeches, was strangely blank. Would he ever see his faithful Slorgs again? Perhaps his dream of standing free on Terror Mountain was just that -- a dream.

Fortunately, he would be headed there very soon...

Complications immediately arose upon the Slorg staircase's completion. It was only after at least half of the self-declared army had fought and oozed its way over the formidable glass wall that a halting realization was made; it was phsically impossible for the Slorgs that formed the foundation of the ladder to free themselves.

The Substitue Lord of Terror -- not commonly celebrated as the brightest match in the box -- spent several minutes puzzling this out. Thankfully, it took that long for the rest of the Slorgs to turn in the direction of the bags, so no time was lost.

"Brothers!" he called to the Slorgs that remained in the container. "Never despair! When Mordac has conquered the world, we will return for you and you will be rewarded for your sacrifice!" There were general mumbles of approval from the direction of the cage, and Corson set his mind to the tricky business of catching up with his army (one particularly zealous soldier had already progressed two centimeters).

Fortunate indeed was the fact that the shopkeeper failed to return as the Slorgs slid across the floor. Perhaps he was taking a nap, or had a distinctly nasty case of indigestion, but regardless the rainbow assortment of Petpets arrived at their destination without detection.

The army disconcertedly broke off to occupy the collection of bags. Corson imagined with glee the expression on Mordac's slimy face when he discovered the dastardly plots his minions had executed! This delightful image in his mind, the bubbly green liquid that was Corson sloped through the gap in a zipper, the last to join his companions in the darkness.

What seemed like moments later, a set of shuffling footsteps announced the presence of the shopkeeper. With a a jerk and a sigh of, "I swear, the luggage gets heavier every year!" the hidden stowaways were off.

The journey to the docks was lengthy and uneventful; the Slorgs were in their league. Jostled in the bags with a few of their "master's" personal effects, (including, but not limited to, a toothbrush and several bottles of tan-coloured shampoo) the air was one of apprehensive excitement.

"...oooh, Mrs. Sweetie-poo, don't you think that colour brings out your eyes?"

And then, more faintly, "I demand you release me at once, you vile creature! I am the Lord of Terror! LORD OF TERROR!"

Corson had a striking suspicion that they had found their leader, and this feeling was instantly confirmed when he shifted to look out between the teeth of the zipper.

The figure craddled in its captor's arms was difficult to identify under several layers of absolutely garish polka dots, but the eyes that glared from beneath a lace-trimmed bonnet were unmistakable...

"Yes...*snick* terrible." Corson looked to see that many of the Slorgs were desperately trying not to break out laughing. Tears were welling in their eyes as they held in their merriment.

"Comrades! You must *snort* remained focused! Our leader, Mordac, Lord of Pink -- I mean -- Terror needs our *pfft* help!"

"Yeah," said one blue Slorg. "He needs a matching purse!"

That was the straw that broke the Uni's back. Before long, the bag erupted in a fit of giggles and laughs. Slimy tears rolled down their faces as their sides ached with joy.

Not far from the merriment, Mordac continued casting hateful glares at his Cybunny adversary. He kept turning his face away from the plastic tea cup Nyesha kept trying to put in his mouth.

"Now, now, Sweetie," said Nyesha. "It's not polite to ignore tea at a tea party!"

Mordac bit down on the tea cup, then flung it on the carpet. "Mark my words, you disgustingly innocent creature of torture! When my plans are made and I am ruler of all Neopia, you shall rue the day you mocked me! GO ON! START RUING!"

"I see you're enjoying your new pet."

Mordac looked up to see the shopkeeper standing there with a piece of luggage at his side, smiling down at his niece. How the anger boiled inside the pink Slorg's body.

"Yes, Uncle!" said Nyesha, hugging Mordac tightly. "Sweetie and I are very happy together."

I beg to differ, Mordac thought darkly.

"Well, why don't you let Sweetie explore a little bit and come downstairs? We don't have much time to look around the boat before we land at Terror Mountain!"

Nyesha placed Mordac down, then hopped after her uncle. As Mordac struggled to rid himself of the embarrassing clothing, the sound of faint laughter reached his ears. He was already close to the strange piece of luggage, so reaching it wasn't too hard of a challenge. Through the small opening in the side, he saw numerous beady eyes.

"Comrades?" he cried in a mixture of shock and excitement.

The laughter ceased inside as the Slorg army looked at their leader. "All hail Mordac, Lord of Terror!" they cried in unison.

Mordac, however, wasn't easily fooled. "Were you mocking me just now?"

Corson shook his head vigorously. "No, your terribleness! We were just... so happy to see you alive and well!"

"Alive, yes. Well... I've had better days." He looked down sadly at his garments, but decided to ignore them for the time being. "Nevermind that, how did you get here? Are all the soldiers present?"

The Slorgs looked at each other sadly. "I'm afraid a few were left behind," answered Corson. "We had no choice. But we come bearing good news! The torture master's birthday will be held on Terror Mountain! We had to come join you for the journey so that we could carry out your plan for world domination!"

The grief in Mordac's eyes quickly faded as the gears in his head began to turn. A new, devious plan was forming in his mind. We're going to Terror Mountain! Perhaps this horrible Cybunny will be of use to me after all.

"Tell me, young Slorg," he said, addressing Corson, "What is your name?"

"Corson, Sir!"

"Not anymore!" he said proudly. "As of now, you are General Corson, second-in-command only to me! I have a plan, my comrades! A plan that will guarantee victory when we reach Terror Mountain..."

“We shall use our captors to bear us all the way to the top of the mountain,” announced Mordac. “These furry giants will unwittingly carry us all the way to the very summit of the mountain.”

“But they are so tall and powerful,” stammered Corson. “If they decide to have their party at the base of the mountain, we could not hope to force them to the destination of our choosing.”

“We can and we will,” stated Mordac smugly. “This is why I, Mordac, am the leader, and you, Corson, are the general. For I have a plan to make those enormous beasts go all the way to the top, and they will not even realize that they are merely acting as our pawns. Pawns acting to further the cause of Slorgs throughout Neopia.”

“Umm... what is this plan?” asked Corson, still unable to fathom how they could prevail and control the Cybunnies.

“Getting them to take us to the top is an act in simplicity,” said Mordac with a knowing smile. “As you yourself stated the wretched things are bringing us to the mountain for a birthday celebration. And where there’s a birthday party there is...”

Mordac pause momentarily for dramatic effect. The other Slorgs just stood there trying to puzzle out what important thing a birthday party would have.

“Cake?” answered Corson.

“Pretty balloons?” said a blue Slorg.

“Scary clowns?” mentioned a brown Slorg.

“Presents!!!” shouted Mordac. “At a birthday party there are birthday presents, and surely lots of toy as gifts. And what is at the top of Terror Mountain?”

Mordac again paused, and again the other Slorgs just stood there baffled at what important thing was at the top of Terror Mountain.

“Umm... at the top of Terror Mountain is... snow?” answered Corson.

“Strong winds?” guessed the blue Slorg.

“Very cold, scary clowns,” said the brown Slorg.

“No, no, at the top of Terror Mountain is the one and only toy repair shop in Neopia,” announced Mordac. “All we must do is find one of the toys that is being brought as a gift. We then simply break that toy. Surely when they get to shore and discover a broken toy they will rush to get it repaired before the presents are opened. And with the damaged toy they will also unknowingly carry us to the top of the mountain as they rush to the repair shop.”

“Hail Mordac, Lord of Terror,” cried Corson finally grasping the plan, and the other Slorgs joined in the chant.

“Now,” said Mordac “We must find a toy and work it into a state of disrepair. Move forth fellow Petpets. Onward to glory!”

With Mordac once more leading the charge the Slorgs moved forward toward...

Stairs.

Huge, impossible-to-avoid stairs, twenty at least. Like most boats traveling on the Neopian Seas these days, there were several decks. The Slorgs themselves broke out in worried conversation as they neared the stairs, with Mordoc leading and General Corson trailing behind his Lord of Terror.

As they finally reached the top of the stairs, Mordac smiled. "Our first test!" he cried. "Get down those stairs! Come, my friends! Here we go!"

"Forgive me, sir," muttered Corson, rushing to catch up with Mordac, "but exactly how are we going to get down those stairs?"

Mordac, who had been rushing towards the stairs, stopped suddenly and whipped around. "Rule number one!" he cried. "Never question your orders! I am the Lord of Terror, and I command you to go down!"

Corson bit his lip, or at least, the part of slime which would be his lip if he had one. Slowly, he edged towards the first stair, and cautiously peered over the edge.

"Hurry up, General!" cried another Slorg.

"Yeah, get a move on!"

Corson gulped nervously. "O - okay," he said quietly, and he cautiously lowered part of his body over the edge. The slime drooped down and hit the next step gently. Relieved, Corson let go of the top.

Unfortunately, these were not carpet-covered stairs, but wooden stairs, without backs, but holes that might fit an Ixi's leg if one accidentally slipped. Corson, being of course much smaller that an Ixi, slipped onto the next step and slipped some more. His whole body fell onto the stump with an uncomfortable THUD and then he felt himself slipping more and more.

"Lord of Terror -- help meeee!" he screamed, before sliding onto the next step, and the next. He slid this way down about half the staircase, and then he fell through the hole in the back.

Having no arms nor legs, he grabbed the stair in his teeth and held on for dear life. He drooped lower and lower, slime starting to unattach from his body as it fell.

By this time, half of the other Slorgs, Mordac at their head, had reached him. Cautiously they extended their slime, reaching for Corson, but just then, he let go.

Falling from halway up the stairs, Corson should have been frightened, but really he felt quite brave. He fell through the air, before landing with a soft PLOP in a large paper bag. The fact was that Corson had let go deliberately, for he had seen the bag, and beside it, tape, a ribbon, and a card. Inside the bag was a Slorg plushie.

"Hideous!" Corson cried. But then he saw -- or rather, felt -- two things land on top of him. They were both Slorgs, the first being Mordac, and the second, a fiery red Slorg named Louise.

Pretty soon, all the Slorgs had found space in the bag, having squished under the plushie. If the Cybunny shopkeeper were to look into the bag, he would not be able to see the Slorgs at all.

But then he did come, whistling to himself, holding string in one hand and a hole-puncher in the other. Carefully the Cybunny punched a hole in both sides of the bag, before tying the string through it and taping the ribbon and card onto one side. Then, still humming, he picked up the bag.

"Time to go, Nyesha, darling!" the Cybunny cried. There was an excited "yay!" as his niece ran towards him, and then they both went on their way, carrying the bag with the battalion of Slorgs hidden inside...

Mordac grinned as he saw fluff litter the bottom of the bag. He motioned silently for Corson to join them as he made his own hole. Soon, the entire Slorg plushie was nothing more than holes and fluff.

"We did it," murmured the Lord of Terror after several minutes of ripping. "This toy will surely have to be repaired." There was silent cheering from the Slorgs gathered in the bag before--

THWUMP!

The bag was dropped on something hard and most Slorgs had to work not to make some noise of shock. There was some jostling as all the bags were presumably being carried off the boat. A wave of cold fresh air seeped through the top opening of the bag, only to be replaced with the warm thick air that came with being indoors.

"Oh my gosh," came a squeal, presumably belonging to Nyesha. "A party for me?!" She started to giggle like crazy and they heard the shopkeeper chuckle.

"Go on, Nyesha, dear, open your presents."

Sounds of rabid tearing filled the air, and the Slorgs all stared at Mordac.

"I-I thought he would check to make sure none of the toys were damaged aboard the ship," said the Lord of Terror in an abashed voice.

He moved slightly to poke his eye just far enough out so he could see. At first he could only see a blinding light, then --

"Sweetie!..."

"Oh, silly Sweetie!" she giggled. "Look Uncle, Sweetie wanted to give me a surprise too! How sweet of you to hide and wait for me," she added, snuggling up close to the Slorg. Carefully grasping him in one paw, she reached into the bag with her other. The other Slorgs slimed as far away from her grasp as they could and breathed a collective sigh of relief as the gigantic paw merely clamped around the now decimated plushie.

Mordac had a fleeting moment of satisfaction as the Cybunny girl looked at the ripped plushie with horrified eyes. Tears began to well threateningly in her eyes, and with a choked sob, she began to bawl, clutching Mordac close to her as her mortified uncle attempted to console her. His smugness now completely washed away by the salty tears running down his body and his dignity completely ruined by the insolent girl, Mordac renewed his raging with renewed fervor. "You stupid child! Release me! How dare you weep your filthy tears upon my magnificent body! How dare you pollute the Lord of Terror's space with your inferior self!"

"Mordac, Lord of Terror! Mordac, Lord of Terror! He is taken again! Woe is upon us!" wailed the Slorgs, caught up in the panic of the moment.

Unfortunately, what actually came out of the bag (to the Cybunnies) was a chorus of prolonged squeaks. Immediately, Nyesha's tears ceased as she and her uncle peered curiously inside the bag. She gasped as she caught sight of the rainbow pile of Slorgs. "Oh, Uncle... they're... they're BEAUTIFUL! Are they ALL for me?"

The Cybunny shopkeeper gaped. He was about to point out that he had no knowledge of the escaped Slorgs, and the fact that they cost a pretty Neopoint, but he took another look at his niece and closed his mouth. "Yes, dear," he sighed. "They're all yours. Happy birthday!"

The Slorgs all sat silently in a circle facing each other. Their usual fiery spirits had been dampened, and the revolutionary fervor their leader usually spread around had dimmed for the moment. For they were not just sitting in a normal Slorg circle. They were sitting in a circle, perched on miniature pink chairs, surrounding a round miniature pink table with miniature pink cups and teapots on there. Each and every one of them had either a bonnet or a lacy cap perched upon their heads, and all of them were swathed in layers of pink chiffon.

"Oh, isn't it wonderful to have such a great turnout for our tea party?" Nyesha gushed as she pretended to pour tea into each and every cup. "We were glad you could make it, Miss Pretty," she cooed as she adjusted the wide brim straw hat tied around Corson. "Oh, let me fetch you some biscuits! I will be right back!" And with that she flounced out of the room.

Mordac cleared his throat nervously, and all the Slorgs turned towards him with despairing eyes. "Times do indeed seem dark, my comrades," he began. "You may think we can sink no lower -- we can not be humiliated any further, or be so reviled anymore. You are right. The time of the Slorg approaches near. I can feel it in my very slime! I can nearly see it with my very eyes! We have gone down... now there is no place to go but up. And oh, what a glorious up it shall be! Up, up to the very heights of Neopia! Where we shall be free, and in control, where we rightfully belong! We have made progress. Do we not reside now on Terror Mountain, the very land we were aiming to take? Victory is but a mouth grab away! Bear the suffering well, my comrades, and we shall rejoice to see the day when these inferior Neopets are crushed beneath us all! For we are Slorgs, and we shall never give up! Fight! For all the Slorgs of Neopia!"

"For all the Slorgs of Neopia!" cheered the Slorgs. "For Mordac, Lord of Terror!"

"All right, no need to squeak so loud," came Nyesha's laugh. "I'll be there with your biscuits soon enough..."

The End... for now