Darklordaakmal sat brooding on his throne. From the depths of the fortress came the sound of his orcs hard at work, building the engines of war that would one day sweep the enemy from his lands forever.

The door flew back with a crash, and a wave of shadow swept into the great hall. It shrouded each of the flickering torches in turn, snuffing the life out of them, plunging the room into darkness. Against the volcanic red glow from outside, darklordaakmal saw a cloaked and hooded figure step into the fortress.

"Who dares trespass on the domain of darklordaakmal?" he demanded, rising to his feet. The obsidian of his throne clutched at him for a moment, then yielded, and as he stepped forward the black glass flowed with him, forming itself into razor-sharp battle armour.

"I dare." A dark light seemed to emanate from the intruder as he swept back his hood, revealing a proud and cruel face.

Darklordaakmal's brow lowered in fury. "Darkotas. What is this insolence?" Responding to his wrath, the very walls of the fortress seemed to loom inwards in the gloom, leaning menacingly over Darkotas.

"The insolence is yours." Darkotas came to a halt in the centre of the floor, and the shadow which enveloped him seemed to grow, forming an inky pool that spread slowly across the hall. "This latest decree of yours cannot be-"

"My decisions are not negotiable," darklordaakmal growled, his midnight eyes narrowing. "If you think-"

"If you think you can just-"

"Ooh la la!"

There was a sound of tinkling silver bells, and a shaft of light pierced the hadean night of the great hall. It was centred on a man: a man who was humming cheerfully to himself, a man whose skin seemed to glow as he skipped across the floor towards the pair... a man who was dressed in a French maid's outfit.

With a flounce, Elcalion came to a halt, midway between Darkotas and darklordaakmal. He tossed back his hair and brandished his feather duster. "This is la ridiculous!"

Darkotas looked at darklordaakmal, then back to Elcalion. "I'm inclined to agree."

"Non, non!" Elcalion snapped. "It is you who are ridiculous! Why do you fight and threaten la war when it is clear what you really want?"

Darklordaakmal stared at him. "What I 'really want' is-"

"-to take this gorgeous young man to your bed and let him use you as he will, n'est pas?" Elcalion beamed and flicked up the hem of his skirt. "And so you shall!" He reached around, took hold of the toggle at the collar of his dress, and gave it a dramatic downwards tug.

There was a moment of silence and utter stillness.

"Um - can one of you help me with la zip? I think it is la stuck."