A/N -You know how sometimes, when you stay up really late and you're really tired, weird things happen? Yeah, well... By the way, it should probably be noted that I'm by no means saying that I'm above the stuff that I'm spoofing. I'm as bad as anyone else, I'm afraid. R&R please!

Long, long ago, in a land that never actually existed, there lived a legendary warrior princess named Ravenna Far-Shooter.

She was, as you may have guessed, a ravishingly beautiful elf. She had long, flowing blond hair and deep violet eyes that flashed dangerously whenever she became angry.

She was also the most powerful mage to ever be seen in the land, and the only hope of mankind against an ancient evil that had arisen.

At the moment we speak of, she was inside her tent, trying to brush out her hair, which had become dangerously snarled after being mashed up inside her battle helm all day.

"Darn it," she cried in a passionate voice, her eyes sparking dangerously. "Why can't I just cut the blasted stuff off?"

At this passionate outburst, her faithful servant Na'raqya, who was beautiful, but not as beautiful as Ravenna, looked up. "Milady mage," she cried in horror, "you can't do that! Your hair is the treasure of the seven kingdoms. Lords and princes are in awe of your beauty. You mustn't do a thing to it!"

"Why not?" Ravenna questioned, beautiful violet eyes still sparking passionately. "I find it highly demeaning to be exalted to such status on the merits of my physical appearance alone."

"Ah, milady," said Na'raqya wisely, "You are just missing your dearly beloved, who has been captured by hoards of Ice Demons while trying to rescue you."

"I am not," said Ravenna stubbornly, still managing to look dangerously beautiful as she argued passionately. "I didn't need rescuing, and I don't like him."

Just then, an outburst at the door of Ravenna's tent interrupted any more arguing. It sounded rather interesting.

"But I must see her," a rough voice rasped in desperation, muffled by the wall of the tent. There was more noise, and some shouting, and then a grubby-looking man fell through the tent entrance. Na'raqya let out a womanly shriek.

"It's a man!" she exclaimed, quite unnecessarily.

"I can see that," said Ravenna.

The guard stuck his head apologetically inside the tent. "Sorry about that, milady," he said. "If you'd like, I can dismember him for you..."

"No," gasped the man on the floor. "I have traveled until at death's door to reach you, oh powerful enchantress!"

"Milady, it is not right for a man to be in your private chambers," interrupted Na'raqya firmly.

"Oh be quiet," said Ravenna crossly. "I'm getting tired of this. For once, I'd like to get a good night's sleep without any interruption."

The man lying on the floor let out a pitiful moan. "Oh hear me first, most beautiful of mages, for I bring dreadful tidings."

"He wouldn't've gotten in at all, except that I was engaging in the typical guardly pursuit of playing a game of dice," offered the guard helpfully. "I was winning, too."

"Milady," began Na'raqya again, beginning to sound irritated.

"Quiet," shrieked Ravenna. "I would very much like to hear what this fellow has to say."

The guard shrugged, and withdrew his head.

The man on the floor sat cautiously up. "Thank you, Gem among Pebbles," he breathed. Na'raqya looked faintly insulted.

"Now what was this news?" prodded Ravenna.

"Ah, yes, the news. It is very grave indeed. All of the northern-most kingdoms have fallen prey to the grip of the Ice Demons. Nothing can stop them, and they leave death and destruction in their wake. You are our only hope. I am here on behalf of the emperor to beg your help."

"If nothing can stop them, why bother?"asked Ravenna innocently.

The messenger blinked in confusion.

"Nothing can stop them but you, brave warrior-princess," he corrected himself after a moment.

Ravenna nodded in comprehension. "Of course. I understand now. Shall I slay them with the magic broadsword that I alone can wield, or shall I use my special magic and telepathic abilities to destroy them?"

The messenger thought for a moment. "Well now," he conceded at last, "I don't know. The emperor didn't really say."

"What do you think?" he asked, turning inquisitively to Na'raqya.

Na'raqya glared at him "Milady, this man is still here," she growled.

"Yes, yes, I can see that," Ravenna told her absently, as she turned her clever mental powers upon the problem at hand.

"Perhaps you'd better use your magic powers," said the messenger, after thinking about it a moment. "Those sound the most dangerous."

Before anyone could reply to this, there was a loud flash of greenish light and an evil cackle of laughter as a robed, hooded figure appeared, wreathed in smoke. "Your days of meddling are over, warrior-elf," cried a sinister voice. "Prepare to meet your doom, for I have in my possession the Crystal of Vengeance. No more will you thwart my plans for world domination."

"Really," commented the messenger hotly, "It's getting a bit crowded in here, don't you think? I was here first, so wait your turn, why don't you?"

"Milady, it's another man," declared Na'raqya, chest heaving.

"I am the dread Sorcerer Vazhuxel, Destroyer of All that is Good," declared the cloaked figure dramatically. "I wait my turn for no one. I am here to kidnap the princess."

"I thought you were here to introduce me to my doom," said Ravenna, tucking a strand of pale golden hair behind one delicately pointed ear of astonishing beauty.

"I- what?" spluttered the evil villain. "I said no such thing."

"Yes you did," piped up the messenger. "You told her to 'prepare to meet your doom'."

The guard poked his head inside the tent flap again. "What the blazes is going on in there?" he asked. His eyes widened in surprise as he saw the cloaked figure. "I say, is that Timmy Smithson? I haven't seen you for ages! How are you?"

"I am NOT Timmy Smithson," howled Vazhuxel, "I am Vazhuxel, Destroyer of All That is Good."

"No you're not, you're Timmy," persisted the guard stubbornly. "I'd recognize you anywhere. I haven't seen you since they expelled you from the academy."


"I could've sworn you were Timmy," muttered the guard.

"I don't want to be kidnaped," Ravenna told Vazhuxel, her stunning amethyst eyes passionately flashing again. "I'm going to get a hair cut."

"Milady," gasped Na'raqya. "Don't you dare."

"I will, and I do dare," Ravenna passionately cried in a passionate voice. "No one can sway my mind in this matter."


"You're giving me a headache," complained Na'raqya.

"You could kidnap her," suggested the messenger hopefully, glancing at Na'raqya, who was still glaring at everyone.

"I DON'T WANT TO KIDNAP HER," roared Vazhuxel, even louder than before. "WHAT WOULD I DO WITH HER?"

"I know," said the guard helpfully, suddenly remembering a counseling seminar he had recently attended, "Why don't we all just come outside and sit down, and try to talk things out. Timmy, tell us how you're feeling right now."

"SHUT UP!" Vazhuxel roared.

"Ohh, you horrid men," Na'raqya said bitterly. "Get out of milady's tent this instant."

"THIS IS WHY I DON'T WANT TO KIDNAP HER!" Vazhuxel yelled angrily.

"You've got a point there," conceded the guard. "But perhaps we should still sit down and try to work this out."

As they were holding this peculiar conversation, no one noticed that Ravenna, always clever and resourceful in addition to being stunning, had slipped out the back entrance of the tent, and gone to find a barbershop. Let the others argue. She, Ravenna, was going to get her hair cut. Someone else could be the hero.

Her beautifully slanted violet eyes were flashing so passionately, that even had she met anyone, no one would have tried to change her mind.

Meanwhile, in a far and distant land, a young boy was growing up. He was a master of the broadsword,and he was destined for greatness.