text: Ah, yes, the only thing more powerful than the human spirit is the spirit of a hero. You dig deep inside yourself, channeling your energy into an explosion of heroism. Eww, gross, it smells...  sticky.
  
  "- hey wait, what are you doing?" shrieks the mysterious magic bitch as you take a step forward. She doubles her efforts to paralyze you, but you are fixated on your goal and nothing is going to stand in your way. You cock your arm and deliver a vicious left hook. Crack. "Foolish mortal," she screams as blood dribbles down into her frock, "that was most unwise."
  
  It really was, you think as you massage your broken hand against your thigh. Why didn't I just hack off her head?
  
  Good question hero, how do you plan to kill her now with one arm and a broken hand?
  
  I dunno, but it was worth it. The blood glistens gorgeously on her bosom.
  
  Maybe. If you are into that kind of stuff. But the time for internal dialogue and wall shattering is over, you have a situation here.
  
  The mysterious magic bitch hurls a poorly aimed fireball in your direction. "I bet you don't even have it in you to kill a woman!"
  
  "Didn't I just kill that water creature thingy? What was her name, Morgan Le Fay?"
  
  "Organa Mel Fy, you fool!" The mysterious magic bitch hurls another fireball, but once again, her aim is so dreadful you do not even have to dodge.
  
  "Oh, whatever."
  
  "Did you really think that half-witted harpy was the real Organa Mel Fy, sorceress supreme?"
  
  "Kind of."
  
  "Well she wasn't! I am!"
  
  Organa Mel Fy whips up a magic firestorm, igniting the forest in a blaze of light and charred forest critters. You have to respect her strategy. When you cannot hit the broad side of a barn, just fire a broadside and blow everything to hell.
  
  "I could have given you power beyond your wildest dreams! Sex the likes of which you have never known possible! We could have ruled the world together and ascended into the divine! Now DIE!"  
  
  Flames lick at you from all angles while smoldering branches and roasted birds tumble around you. Your stomach rumbles and mouth waters. Too bad you do not have time for a snack; a nice greasy roasted duck would really hit the spot right about now. One problem at a time though. You think you see a small avenue of escape, but you will have to bolt for it now. Of course, running away admits defeat.
  > flee
  Sometimes you have to lose the battle to win the war. You seize your opportunity to escape and disappear in the smoky haze. That crazy loon must have set half the forest on fire. Things cannot get much worse at least, right?
  
  A gale pummels you from behind and knocks you down. Coals soar through the air. The force of the wind uproots entire trees, filling the air with splintering missiles of fire and death. Shit just got worse.
  
  "Oh come on," you mutter, "the bitch has to have some limit to her magic."
  
  You stagger onto your feet and proceed to dodge the incredible amount of bullshit and debris flying through the air all the way back to Osprey's ramshackle birdshit hut. Osprey and Jon are sitting on stumps around a bonfire drinking tea, completely ignoring the magic fire engulfing the forest.
  
  Osprey nudges Jon with his elbow. "See, I told ya he'd come back. They always come back."
  
  "Never doubted you for a second Osprey. The boy is young. He'll learn."
  
  You throw up your arms in exasperation. "In case you two didn't notice, we have a situation here."
  
  "You heroes today, always in such a hurry." Osprey bops you on the head with his staff. "Never taking any time to stop and smell the pteguonias." Osprey takes a deep whiff. "Putrid."
  
  "That's your birdshit hut burning up."
  
  Osprey's eyebrows shoot up, nearly off his forehead. "Damnit, Organa, you've gone too far this time. Show yourself! It ends now!"
  
  Organa Mel Fy once again materializes out of thin air. She blasts an ice spike through Osprey's heart without so much as a howdy-do. The cooky old hedge wizard voids his bowels and leaves this world once and for all. So much for getting a new arm.
  
  Jon draws his sword. This battle may rest entirely on his blade now because you certainly do not appear to be in any condition to help. "Heartless harpy," he growls.
  
  Organa Mel Fy shrugs, which causes her bountiful breasts to bounce beautifully. "Well aren't you a luscious lug. The world is a better place without the old fart stinking up half the forest. And I assure you, while I may be tart, I do have a heart. I know I just met you, and this may seem a tad crazy. But I'm ovulating, so would you like to make a baby?"  
  
  "Well, I am a sucker for gingers."
  
  "Power, sex, and divinity, we could have it all."
  
  Jon lowers his sword. "That is tempting."
  
  "Jon, what the hell!" You make a fist and drop to your knees in pain. Yep, still broke.
  
  Jon stares at you with puppy dog eyes. "But she's a ginger! I love gingers. Besides, heroes aren't supposed to hit girls let alone kill them. That's villainy right there."
  
  The man makes a strong argument. Are you really willing to begin the long dark descent down the path of debauchery and villainy just to stop one lone psychotic bitch with a magic addiction? Maybe it is not too late for you to get in on the action too. Organa Mel Fy does have a pretty sweet body and has a serious sexual appetite. There are probably some fantastic adventures awaiting the three of you in your potential sexcapades. 
  > grope Organa Mel Fy
  Something has been off about Organa Mel Fy ever since you first took a whiff of her presence. Eureka, that's it! You just have to get close enough to check and make sure.
  
  "Organa, I think I made a terrible mistake. Just think of all the sexy good times the three of us could have."
  
  "Hmmm, maybe." Organa's eyes fall to your junk, judging you.
  
  You saunter over to Organa Mel Fy, trying your best to look charming and horny. Yeah, she wants some of that. When you get in close, you shove your hand down her robes and clutch onto her naughty bits. Son of a peasant, you were right!
  
  "She's packing heat Jon," you shout as you simultaneously twist Organa Mel Fy's genitals and headbutt her in the temple. "I knew I smelled the unmistakable musk of virility on you when we first met."
  
  Jon gawks stupidly. "You mean Organa Mel Fy is a transsexual?"
  
  You mercilessly curb stomp Organa Mel Fy into the forest floor, not feeling the least bit bad about it. "Nope, she's a hermaphrodite."
  
  "Oh, wow. That could have got...  kinky?"
  
  "Not the word I would have used, but you're probably right."
  
  "You're still kind of beating up a woman you know."
  
  "Eh, it's got a penis. I think my hero's soul is safe."
  
  "You son of a whore!" Tears pour down Organa's cheeks. "We could have achieved great things, the three of us, united as a triumvirate of power, glory, and sexual ecstasy."
  
  This is true. Do you want to give all of that up? I know it requires a new perspective on life and an open mind, but that sounds interesting if nothing else. You could shatter boundaries and usher in a new age of sexual exploration and understanding. Then again, she does want to take over the known world, so it is not like she's a nice lady...  gentleman... person. Or is (s)he just misunderstood?
  > heroes kill evil things. She's evil.
  You don't make the rules; you just follow them. Canon dictates you kill all evil things that cross your path. Open-mindedness is not canon. Therefore, it must be evil. When was the last time you read a cliché story about two homoerotic knights swordfighting their way through the kingdom, never.
  
  A few curb stomps later, Organa Mel Fy is dead. Congratulations, you rid the world of a great evil. Jon shoots a passing red herring. Ain't nobody got time for that.
  
  Jon slaps you on the back. "Well kid, turns out you had it in you to be a hero after all. You'll earn a knighthood for this beautiful handiwork, no doubt. How do you feel?"
  
  "Dirty."
  
  "Nothing a good bath won't fix."
  
  "So what happens next?"
  
  "Oh, I imagine you'll have some titillating adventures over the years and wind up marrying a big bosomed princess with blond hair and blue eyes. She'll give birth to a brood of little prince-lings and you'll grow old in a nice big ass castle. Doubt you'll ever get your arm fixed though. You proved today you don't need it."
  
  "That sounds fine by me."
  
  "Amen. A cliché life is a happy life."