In checking a back-reference I was surprised to find that there wasn't a compilation page for Dancer's longest and best "serious" story from 2005. Consider this the 10th anniversary re-release.

Far Away

Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Epilogue

I used to host the archive page for Far Away, but when I switched from dial-up to Broadband my website was erased (the broadband service, oddly, did not include a web site allowance).

Still, I have the old backups (with the original stories), and dug out the three increasingly irrelevant side stories I wrote - I'll post them as followups to this...

That Which Does Not Live: A Far Away tie-in

Originally posted on Tales of the Parodyverse.

Characters in this story are owned either by myself, or other posters on the Board.

---

The General had been having a good day. Emphasis on the had. The initial snatch had taken place, the demoralised survivors of the snatch were being winnowed and processed. Everything had gone according to plan, just as it always did.

Then the reports started coming in. Despite the amnesia serum; despite the trauma of having your world-view shattered; despite all the psychological beatings to the psyche that the survivors should have received; some of them were banding together and resisting. Instead of being frightened individuals, easy to manipulate and mould, they were becoming serious hazards to the operation.

And that wasn't the worst of it.

"I'm sorry," he said to the hapless Technician who was unfortunate enough to be making the most recent report. "I fail to see the problem. We know the transfer takes a vast amount of energy. We know that the calculations are not precise. Why are you concerned that it took 'more energy than expected'?"

"..."

"Well?"

"Sir, the estimates were out by several orders of magnitude...We barely managed to complete the transfer of materials. It was as if we were transferring more material than actually existed in the target area."

"And?"

"Sir, we managed to identify three anomalous areas in the energy patterns. Squads were sent out to investigate."

"Technician, do I really have to rack the rest of this report out of you?"

"Sir, Transcripts of the transmissions from the first two squads are attached to the report, Sir."

* * *

Anomaly Investigation and Elimination Squad #3428745 Transmission Transcript File #4876529875

[CONTROL]: Do you have sight of the target area yet?

[#3428745]: Affirmative, Control. The target area is a single building within an open area. We are moving towards engagement.

[CONTROL]: Report on the state of the building.

[#3428745]: It appears to be classifiable as a large dwelling. It appears to have survived the transfer more-or-less intact.

[CONTROL]: Move towards the entrance. Take care, the building could be unstable.

[#3428745]: Affirmative, Control. We are approaching the front entrance nowS***.

[#3428745]: {Transmission becomes confused; weapon fire is apparent in the transmission}

[CONTROL]: AIES #3428745, please respond.

[#3428745]: Two squad members eliminated by some form of automated decapitation weapon. We have returned fire and destroyed the weapon.

[CONTROL]: Acknowledged. Try to enter the building. Take care - there could be other traps.

[#3428745]: Affirmative, Control. We are now inside the building. The entrance point is a large area with openings off on both sides. To the rear is an uneven inclined plane that arcs round to the upper levels. There appears to be a large figure part-way up the inclined plane, sitting in an alcove.

[#3428745]: Correction. The figure appears to be some form of pigment image, surrounded by some sort of frame. There is some sort of inscription underneath. Local translation algorithm is not translating it.

[CONTROL]: Transmit inscription.

[#3428745]: Inscription reads: Marie Murcheson, 1840-1860 Nec scire fas est omnia, vox et praeterea nihil

[CONTROL]: Mainframe algorithm is not translating it either. Maintain a presence in the entrance area and check the openings on the current level.

[#3428745]: Affirmative, Control. We...Wait...There is something moving near the image.

[CONTROL]: Are you sure? We show no life readings other than your own.

[#3428745]: Sorry, Control. Must have been a trick of the light.

[#3428745]: What the...

[#3428745]: {Transmission becomes confused; weapon fire is apparent in the transmission, followed by a single scream, then static}

[CONTROL]: AIES #3428745, please respond.

[CONTROL]: AIES #3428745, please respond.

[CONTROL]: Central: Report AIES #3428745 no longer responding.

* * *

"We sent two other squads in to investigate." explained the Technician. "One of them reported seeing a green alien before their comms equipment underwent some form of failure; the other one disappeared in the same manner as the first. The remaining squads are a little reluctant to go out after them."

"And the second anomaly?"

"Ah. This one was underground..."

* * *

Anomaly Investigation and Elimination Squad #745765 Transmission Transcript File #9876874534

[CONTROL]: Caution: Scanners indicate that you are approaching a large open chamber.

[#745765]: Affirmative, Control. We are entering the chamber now.

[#745765]: {Pause in transmission}

[CONTROL]: AIES #745765, please respond.

[#745765]: Sorry, Control. The chamber appears to be some form of ancient archive. There are labelled items in stacks all over the walls. Lighting is achieved by multiple open flames fuelled by some form of hydrocarbon stick. It's kind of creepy.

[CONTROL]: Creepy?.

[#745765]: There are some seating units here, occupied by...

[#745765]: {Pause in transmission}

[CONTROL]: AIES #745765, please respond.

[#745765]: Sorry, Control. The seating units are occupied by corpses.

[CONTROL]: Targets killed by the Transfer?

[#745765]: Not these, control. These are long dead. There's nothing alive down here.

[CONTROL]: What is the disposition of the corpses?

[#745765]: Unknown. They appear to have died whilst looking at some of the archive material. One of them is holding a spherical drinking container, filled with a red liquid.

[CONTROL]: Poison?

[#745765]: Just checking.

[#745765]: Blast.

[CONTROL]: What happened?

[#745765]: Spilled some of it on the archive material. Still, doesn't matter, I suppose.

[#745765]: What the...

[#745765]: {Transmission becomes confused; sound like transmitter hitting ground}

[#745765]: {Faint voice, not recognised by system}Blasted illiterates. Now we have to get our copy of the Book of Dying Names transcribed again...

[#745765]: {Transmission cuts out}

[CONTROL]: AIES #745765, please respond.

[CONTROL]: AIES #745765, please respond.

[CONTROL]: Central: Report AIES #745765 no longer responding.

* * *

"And how many more squads did you send in?" asked the General.

"Well, none."

"None? Why not."

"Well... We appear to have misplaced the chamber."

"How can you misplace a chamber? Even if they shield it you should still be able to find the location."

"We can, sir. It's just that the tunnels no longer seem to go to it."

The General put his elbows in his desk, his head in his hands and sighed. It had all been going so well.

"And the third anomaly?" He asked.

The Technician gave a signal. A slim, dark-skinned human female was brought in, flanked by a double set of guards.

The General looked up. By human standards she appeared to be attractive, he thought. An ideal slave. Then he noticed the other things...

She was dressed in the flowing robes of a mystic. She wearing an ornate neck ornament, with a strange stone mounted in the center. She was not dressed in the clothes of a slave, she obviously did not have an implant or a power suppresser, and above all, she seemed neither shocked or disoriented - as if being thrown into the unknown with your memories ripped from you was no more that par for the course.

"Why isn't she fitted with a power suppresser or an implant?" he asked the Technician.

"She doesn't have any powers," responded the Technician, "and the implants don't want to be...implanted."

"...?"

"The first of them ceased to work, the second one went insane, and the third...underwent a severe existence failure."

"And the extra guards? Is a powerless human that dangerous?"

"No sir, it's just that slaves seem to disappear around her if she isn't guarded."

"Well," smiled the General. "What shall we do with you?"

He looked her up and down a few times. His eye kept being drawn to the pendant. He froze.

"How about we give you the antidote to the amnesia serum, and drop you off where we found you?" he said suddenly, with a rather unnatural (for him) smile.

"Sir?" protested the Technician.

"Yes," said the General, addressing him directly. "Take the nice mystic back where you found her and let her get on with her mysticisming. That way everyone will be happy and nobody will get their heads ripped off. Here, at least."

The Technician scrambled to fulfil the order. With any luck, he would be away long enough for someone else to make the report about the medical institution.

* * *

Ebony sat on a pile of rubble, watching her memories return. The Shoggoth was bringing her up-to-date with other events.

Now that we have a sample of the antidote, the one known as Grace can work out a way of synthesising it. Greye and his colleagues have made contacts with the banshee and the mathematical one and will start work on intelligence and co-ordination. I will leave the Legion to my estranged self.

"And what are we going to do?"

Everything is going to have to be transported back home somehow. We are going to start building one damn great chymeric gate.

"Sounds like a plan." replied Ebony. "Where's the chalk?"

---

Footnotes:

Just in case it is not obvious:

• Anomaly One was caused by dragging the Lair Mansion (and all its associated baggage) across space. Hallie and Marie (both part of the mystic defences) were evidently not pleased about this.
  
• Anomaly Two was caused by the Ghouls of Gothametropolis and their library. Abyssal Greye may take a dim view of that, but would be even more annoyed by having wine spilled on his copy of Book of Dying Names for a second time (the first was mentioned in Cum Grano Salis), which means that he will have to bargin with the Shoggoth to get it re-transcribed again.
  
• Anomaly Three was caused dragging part of the main mass of the Shoggoth (imbedded in Ebony's amulet) across space (by comparison, the lesser mass attached to the Legion went unnoticed).
  
• It is not surprising that there would be problems with a certain medical facility, since it is the known haunt of one Grace O'Mercy, a vampire whose blood was imbued with Serious Matter and the blood of the Elder Vampire Nosferos. We shall not mention the little secret buried in its foundations, mostly because HH has not revealed what it is yet.
  

---

A Bad Day at the Office: Yet Another Far Away tie-in

Originally posted on Tales of the Parodyverse.

Characters in this story are owned either by myself, or other posters on the Board.

---

Little things still dogged the operation.

Take General Steppenstoat, for example. Flanked by his Ermines of Destruction, he bestrode the badlands like a rather aged colossus. Metahumans and humans alike fell to his forces and were gathered up for processing.

To be fair, initially he did very well. The humans were disorganised and disorientated, and were easily herded like the sheep they resembled. The metahumans, who would normally be a severe problem, were prevented from using their abilities because of the Amnesia Serum. It is hard to use an ability that you don't remember you have.

As the days passed, however, the playing field changed. The ones who managed to evade capture in turn became harder to catch. Some of them started to band together, pooling resources and making life as difficult as possible for the collection teams. There were even rumours that some of the invincible battle tanks had damaged or destroyed.

Steppenstoat was keeping quiet about the one he had found covered in slime with its main turret torn off. Mercifully - and this was not a word he often used - there had been no sign of its occupants. Morale among the troops was starting to become a little...fragile.

Then another report came in. A nearby battle tank had been damaged and was retreating from combat. This warranted investigation. And punishment, of course.

* * *

Steppenstoat has to admit that the tank looked a mess. The heavy armour was severely gashed and holed, one of the hatches had sliced open, and the internals were...chewed up a little. The sole surviving trooper stood at attention next to the tank. He looked badly bitten and shaken, but otherwise unharmed.

"Report."

"Sir. We were engaged in a standard sweep for survivors when we encountered a hidden group of immature humans. We moved in as per standing orders to collect them for Granny Grimness' Obedience Academy when a human adult interfered."

"Metahuman?"

"Negative, Sir. The scanners indicated a mature human female. Visual indicated that she was armed with a straight, thin double-edged bladed weapon with an ornate handle. She engaged the tank and managed to cause heavy damage before we shook her off."

"That sort of damage with a simple blade? Don't be foolish. That's impossible."

"She obviously didn't think so, Sir."

Steppenstoat sighed. "What happened to the rest of your squad?"

The trooper hesitated. The first part of the story had been hard enough to explain.

"Well, sir. The immature humans were playing with some small, purple furry creatures. She somehow ordered them to attack. They hopped through the holes cut in the tank and...". The trooper shuddered at the memory, unable to continue his tale.

"Very well. Remain here. I will investigate this matter and determine your fate later."

* * *

He led his stoats to the place indicated. The building sheltering the humans was fairly easy to find - a mere shell with two lines on a broken sign reading "t Jud" "phan".

He kicked down the door - what remained of it - and went in. The roof and much of the internal ceiling had collapsed. The few parts of the building that had not collapsed had been roughly (but effectively) buttressed, making a few sheltered living areas. These areas had been partly blocked off with cloth.

Ever one for the straightforward approach, Steppenstoat issued a challenge. "Come on out and face me, female, before I offer up your children to my mighty Ermines of Destruction. Come and face Steppenstoat".

The response was not long in coming. A figure leapt on to one of the broken walls, the sun at its back. The silhouetted figure - Steppenstoat could have sworn that it was actually male - drew its rapier. "Bunniary is thinking that uncute Steppenstoat should leave! Otherwise Bunniary will be defending cute children with Bunniary's rapier and Bunniary's cute fluffy bunnies!"

For one of the very few times in his life, Steppenstoat felt the cold fingers of fear clutch at what remained of his heart. That speech pattern... That rapier... Those... bunnies.

He did the only sensible thing he could under the circumstances. He fled.

* * *

"Sir?"

"Engage self-destruct on the battle tank, then report to Lord Torkamahda for debriefing."

"Yes Sir! Thank you Sir!" responded the trooper, relieved that he was only going to be horribly tortured by an expert in the field. That, he felt, he could cope with.

Steppenstoat watched as the self-destruct engaged, wiping the tank and the trooper off the face of the planet. As if he was going to let news of this get back to Torkamahda. Now he was going to go back to base, find his desk and stay there for the rest of the operation.

* * *

Lord Torkamahda, Minister of Torment, was not a happy person. First of all, a human brain he that he had high hopes of adding to the Brains Trust turned out to be something of a lemon. Then there was Splendiferous Stuart, currently enjoying orchestrating the downfall of some attractive female metahuman - not so much for the "downfall" part as the "Splendiferous Stuart enjoying it" part. Then reports started coming in about... difficulties... with the captured humans.

Now, to cap it all, General Steppenstoat had decided to park himself behind his desk rather than going out to reap the harvest from their latest snatch operation. Granted that there were some interesting rumours about a sudden change in uniform, but the man was underfoot none-the-less.

Torkamahda sighed - an unusual event in itself - and applied himself to the report he was writing.

Subject ID: #98375634758776

Subjects Assumed Name: Oatcake

Description:

Male humanoid, Height – 4' 11", Weight 230lbs, suffering from severe kyphosis, the effect of which appears to have been exaggerated by some form of padding with a form of short synthetic item of clothing similar to the ones worn on the subjects feet.

Tortures applied:

At this point Torkamahda sighed again. It was not as if he hadn't tried.

He had started with whips, only to be thanked because of... well, something about contract breach.

The subject had then been stretched on a rack, at which point he had started offering advice on technique.

Finally, after being subject to just about everything in the chamber (which were either too big, too small or tickled) the wretched creature was dumped in an Ion Maiden for an hour on full power.

It had requested another hour.

It wasn't fair! How was he supposed to maintain his position as the premiere sadist and torturer of his age if the victims refused to co-operate.

At that point, the building shook. A few seconds later an underling threw in a report about a disturbance in the blister pits and ran for its life.

Torkamahda threw the report into the disintegrater and stalked out of the room. Anything was better than trying to write up this particular case. Even going down to the blister pits.

Once he had left the room, a dusky, white-robed maiden slipped out of the shadows and dragged the protesting Oatcake out of the Ion Maiden. After all, he had a job to do.

It should be noted in passing that later on, when Torkamahda discovered this, he was even less happy. Even worse that writing reports would be trying to explain how he had lost a prisoner.

---

Footnotes:

Bunniary is the name FleaBot suggested for the purple Thought Bunny that Visionary created as a Christmas present for Yo in A Parodyverse Christmas. Since Yo can be or do anything that Yo thinks (S)he can, imagine how powerful a Thought Being is going to be if it cannot remember of the things that limit it.

General Steppenstoat has met Yo before, during the Follies of Youth crossover, specifically Follies of Youth/Killer Shrike Tie-Ins 1 to 4:

• "The Girl from Earth 616"
  
• "You and Me Against the Fourth World"
  
• "Smells like Teen Spirit… and Giant Carnivorous Mammals"
  
• "The Part With the Surprise Guest Stars"

Flapjack is known to (ahem) enhance parts of his anatomy with socks, as detailed in Follies of Youth #23: Flapjack's Folly. His vital statistics are taken from his CV, which also mentions a "regular damn good flaying" as part of his remuneration package.

---

Manga Shoggoth's Far Away Tie-Ins #3: Why Is Manga Shoggoth Writing This In Script Format?

Originally posted on Tales of the Parodyverse.

Characters in this story are owned either by myself, or other posters on the Board.

---

[The Scene: A Battle Tank slowly picks its way through the ruined city, on its mission to round up survivors and them over to Lord Torkamahda or Splendiferous Stuart for processing, not taking into account the sex or appearance of the captives in any way at all. The three soldiers inside the tank are not at all nervous about travelling through this terrain as they have been assured that the rumours of invincible battle tanks being attacked and destroyed are completely false; there have been no cases of tanks having their turrets ripped off, leaving the shattered remains covered in slime and General Steppenstoat had been wearing that uniform for a week before he changed it. And there are no sightings of white-robed, dark-skinned female mystics trying to draw a damn great chalk circle around the place on pain of death]

Tank Commander: Can you see any humans here? Except for the one over there in the white robe that we can't see, of course.

Trooper #1: No sir. No signs of life at all, except for that rather scruffy canine digging for scraps.

Trooper #2: Why is Manga Shoggoth writing this in script format when he is on record as saying that he hates it. Unless it is Dancer or DBS, of course.

Tank Commander: Concentrate on the plot, Trooper #2. It's time for the second confusing hint to appear.

(The tank lurches slightly to one side)

Tank Commander: (Suddenly nervous) What was that, Trooper #1?

Trooper #1: (looking carefully through the scanners) We have just run over a very small statue of an animal, Sir.

Trooper #2: And we should notice this small statue more than the larger chunks of rubble liberally strewn across the road for what reason?

(The tank lurches slightly to the other side)

Tank Commander: (Even more nervous) Trooper #1?

Trooper #1: We appear to have run over on of the stray felines in the area.

Trooper #2: ...And why don't we appear to have names? At least Dancer took the trouble to come up with Yassk, Skrrl and Grottu, and they only lasted for 11 paragraphs. I would feel happier with a name, even if it did sound like a UNIX command.

Tank Commander: What was that moving to the right?

Trooper #1: The scanner notes it as a long-eared herbivore. Harmless, even if it is purple.

Trooper #2: ...And what about the font colour? Is this a Dancer parody, or is he making sly comments about the courage of the mighty Gelbah'Trakh Faction?

(A black avian creature lands on the main gun)

Tank Commander: (Wound up tighter than a Conservative listening to Tony Blair) What is that black avian creature perched on our main gun?

Trooper #1: It appears to be a Blackbird (Family: Turdidae, Genus: Turdus, Collective Noun: Flock). And it's looking at us funny.

Trooper #2: I mean, he can't even mimic Dancer's style and slightly twisted sense of humour, hasn't mentioned sex once and hasn't referred to men as slime.

Black Avian Creature: *ahem*. Actually, I'm a Raven (Family: Corvidae, Genus: Corvus, Collective Nouns: Conspiracy or Unkindness). "Flock" is a general collective noun for birds.

Trooper #1: Sorry, no offence meant.

Raven: None taken.

Tank Commander: (Now screaming in panic) ...And he lives on the same continent as Dancer. He's asking for a Plie-Arabesque-Pirhouette Combination in the merkin here.

Trooper #2: Wasn't that my line?

Raven: And you have fallen into our trap: Get them!

Tank Commander: And a little birdie like you is going to do what to out Invincible Battle Tank?

Trooper #2: And now we have an unexplained mood swing. By the way that is a really stupid thing to say, especially when you are in a story published on a Comic Book Parody website.

(The tank shakes as it is assaulted from behind by a set of indestructible claws)

Scruffy Canine: Woof

Stray Feline: Meow

Harmless Purple Long-Eared Herbivore: Squeak

Very Small Statue of an Animal: .........

---

Footnotes:

I really don't think Dancer is going to be able to use this one. Blame it on a really slow week at work, OK?

The Society of Super Pets made its debut appearance in Dancer #3: The Legion of Super-Pets.

Lisa's cat has shown its abilities as an offensive creature on many occasions, but none more so than in Untold Tales of the Parodyverse #98: Tooth and Claw, or Never Let a Monkey Have a Nuclear Weapon.

---

nt

Hope she doing great 😘😘😘😘

I think there were other tie-ins at the time, too, but I haven't gone and hunted for them. Anyone who wishes to do so should start at http://www.chillwater.org.uk/HH/archive/others/2005/