The Curious Tale of Panache and the League of the Moderators

[The F-H.C.A.G.]

so he collects teacups...AND bladed weapons?? How interesting. Very divergent taste in things.

Yes, he can be quite "divergent" at times!

...Though I was sorry to read about Mr. Derek falling on "shard" times in the Great Hall of China. Poor Mr. Derek, in his cups; a victim of "saucer"-y, you might say...
.

AAAAAARGH! The mad punster strikes again! So, you're the reason it often sounds as though Panache is having digestive upset as he pores over the computer. The groans can be somewhat distressing .

Be well,

[Panache]

The Curious Tale of Panache and the League of the Moderators

Chapter 11

Third Challenge: The Lady, or the Tiger?

We four remaining applicants nodded and the slips of paper again magically appeared from the hat for Rob to read. The order for the next task would be Mr. Malt, Mr. Dove, Mr. Red, and then myself. Mr. Malt headed through the now familiarly carved portal to the next task. Mr. Dove opened his large sporran and searched inside. Then, apparently finding what he sought, he grinned and closed the pouch. After a fairly short period a bell rang in the distance and Mr. Dove was invited to proceed. Mr. Red looked at me and inquired if I had ever studied the art of fencing. I responded in the affirmative. He then inquired if in tournaments we ever employed bells. I acknowledged that we in fact would use them. He smiled and then asked if I had ever been competing in the tournament and thought to myself “ask not for who the bell foils, it foils for thee.” The ringing of the bell spared us from further amusements from Mr. Red as he left the room to the next challenge. After some thought Dee asked me “How did you travel with Mr. Red so many miles without causing him bodily harm or losing your sanity?” “With difficulty, with difficulty” I answered. The bell rang and I gave a wave to the two Heralds and headed through the door.

I found myself in a short corridor at the far end of which were two doors. The Moderator David stood close by holding a white fluffy cat with a diamond collar. He recited:

“Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry!?”

Looking at and softly stroking the large eyed feline in his arms he noted “I always enjoyed that poem. I am rather fond of tigers really“. “I fail to see what tigers have to do with our forum or a test for one‘s qualifications for being a Moderator?” I responded defiantly. “Don’t you?” he mused. “Perhaps you may recall that lovely story by Frank R. Stockton in which the hero must choose between two doors. Behind one is a beautiful woman. Behind the other is a deadly tiger. Everyday a Moderator must watch carefully and discern which paths lead to fruitful discussion and which will lead to unpleasantness. Harmful pathways must be kept closed and beneficial ones kept open. This task will enlighten us if you are able to do so. You are to read the card on each door and pass through one of them. If you choose well you may continue to the next set of doors. In this manner you may find your way through this challenge.” I asked “If I should choose poorly, what then? A tiger?”


David frowned at the question, “Sadly no. The rest of the League did not feel it was the best use of our resources. They denied me my tiger just like they denied me my ingenious underground mono tracked railway system. Curses on their yearly operating budget, departmental allocations, and fiscal responsibilities. One day they will pay for their lack of vision! But I assure you that the badger I was allotted is a most ferocious creature in it’s own right.”

“A badger?” I laughed. “That doesn’t seem too menacing?

David smiled at me coldly “well then you have nothing to worry about. Be on your way”.

I headed down the corridor with a slight feeling of unease. This may have been attributed to a simple case of nervous fatigue from the first two challenges. Or it may have been my disconcertment at the cackling laughter from David that filled the hallway. I came to the two plain wooden doors and indeed as David had remarked each bore a small neatly printed card. The one on the right said:

“Should those of feeble constitution and stature be forbidden to wear kilts for fear that they will diminish the image of the proud Highlander with their knobby knees ? "

Whilst written on the left was:

“What is the reason sporrans are worn in the front of the body instead of at one’s side, which would seem more practical?”

I put my hand on the left doorknob and turned it. The door opened and I saw that the photograph of a lovely lady was attached to it’s back and that another short corridor lay beyond. The lady pictured was one well known to our distinguished forum. In fact she was an actress of stage and the moving picture shows that have become so fashionable as of late. Just the mention of her lithe frame, soft brown tresses, and cat-like grace was wont to disrupt all serious debate amongst our members, turning them into lovesick school boys. Her image regarded me with large brown eyes and a friendly gaze.

Leaving picture I walked to the next set of doors. The one on the left had a card with the question:

“Who should be so foolish as to think they are worthy of Highland attire if they cannot boast of a Scottish bloodline?"

The right card’s question was:

“What is the origin of the kilt pin and how should it be worn?”

I opened the right door and was again greeted by another photograph of the actress (this time wearing a flimsy garment of a harem girl!) Beyond lay another short hallway and at it’s end another pair of doors.

I continued through set after set of doors, each time successfully avoiding those questions that would be not in keeping with our forum’s rules and could only lead to harsh words and bitter feelings if posed there. Which each correct choice I was rewarded with a different photograph of actress. This included one of her in a most provocative outfit of high black boots, long black gloves, and a matching garment that one could only describe as being a bathing suit of the most revealing nature. She held a member of the species python regius and wore a most unusual collar at her throat. So taken was I by this most extraordinary picture that I stood there paralyzed for several minutes unable to do naught but gaze in wonder.

I finally came to my senses and continued to the next set of doors. After some time I came to one hallway that bore marks of some great scuffle. Long lengths of red hair and pieces of the Arizona tartan were strewn all about the floor and walls. I could only imagine that Mr. Red who had been my predecessor had not chosen wisely. Stepping through the mess I read the cards to make my own choice. The right one asked:

“Shouldn’t fisticuffs be employed in teaching manners to those ignorant wretches that would dare insult the tartan of our forefathers?”

The left one's question was:

“Under what circumstances would one sport a plant trimming behind one’s cap badge and is there significance to this?“

I couldn’t imagine how Mr. Red could have chosen the wrong answer. I reached for the left door knob and was about to turn it when my eye caught notice of something.

The card of this door was slightly askew and there appeared to be another card underneath it. I easily removed the card which had been affixed with a small amount of paste covering the real card beneath. The revealed card read:

“Why is it that people that show the good sense to wear kilts often show so much less sense in their politics and religious beliefs?"

I stepped away from the left door and walked to the right one. Without bothering to remove the card that had been pasted atop the door's real question I opened it. Mr. Malt and Mr. Dove were sitting and waiting for me in yet another small circular waiting room.

Dee and Rob entered the chamber almost immediately behind me. Dee said “Mr. Red sadly didn’t complete the third challenge.“ I shot a suspicious look at Mr. Dove who strove to bear a most innocent of expressions. Rob informed us “Mr. Red will recover and his hair will grow back…eventually. He did want to pass on something to you three before we put him on the stretcher. He said it was important.” We all listened with great attention. Mr. Red had said “Tell them I didn’t know I was going to be the mane event! Oh well, hair today, gone tomorrow! ” Dee related that Mr. Red may have had other things to add but the effects of the ether the doctor administered put him to sleep. Mr. Malt asked “Waesucks! Guid-man Red a musta been in a bluidy great pain!” Rob answered, “no but the doctor was and the only relief to be had was in getting Mr. Red to be quiet”.

Dee said “Gentlemen you have passed three challenges. The fourth awaits you now”.
Rob held out the tam and the papers began to fly from it.

To be continued…

[Freelander Sporrano]

they denied me my ingenious underground mono tracked railway system.

Or so you thought......Oh! How easily fooled you are young man

[BEEDEE]

The Moderator Selection Course seems to be well thought out and ably administered. The introduction of the 'actress' (undoubtably Diana Rigg as Emma Peel) is obviously calculated to distract all but the most single minded individual.

Congratulations to Panache for ably progressing so far, although I am sure the F-HCAG has had a major part in shaping Panache's ability to ignore such distractions.

Brian

[Panache]

The Curious Tale of Panache and the League of the Moderators

Chapter 12

Fourth Challenge: A close call with Catastrophe


Given that I had only suspicions, but not proof, that Mr. Dove had sabotaged the efforts of Mr. Derek and Mr. Red there was naught to do but continue on. Dee read us our order for the next challenge. Mr. Dove would be first, followed by myself, and lastly Mr. Malt. Mr. Dove had turned away from us for a moment and I thought he was going to head onward without comment. I was proven wrong when he turned about to offer his hand to Mr. Malt and slapped me heartily on the back. He wished us both luck and then left through the door. As he passed through the portal the sound of music filled the waiting room. The shutting of the heavy carved door cut off the sound and Mr. Malt and I waited with Dee and Rob in silence. Eventually a bell rang and the two Heralds motioned me to rise and proceed.

Opening the door I stepped through and found myself in a large concert hall. The house lights were dim and in the spotlights on the distant stage I saw a full orchestra playing. The piece appeared to be The Hebrides Overture The musicians played the Mendelssohn composition with great skill to an apparently empty house as the rows of plush velvet seats were all vacant. As my eyes grew accustom to the low light I perceived one lone figure sitting in the middle of the hall near the main aisle. I walked down to him and saw it was the Moderator Nelson listening to the music with rapt attention. I sat beside him and he gestured to me to remain silent as the martial sounding bassoons and cellos rose to a climax to be surmounted by the flutes as the second theme of the piece began.

He smiled at me and thanked me for waiting. “I just love that part of the overture. Now Panache the previous challenges have determined your knowledge, ability to navigate difficult situations, and to show good judgment. The next two tasks are designed to illustrate your patience and ability to lead. If you are prepared, walk to the right side of the concert hall and enter through the green door there. Once inside you are simply required to direct a group of individuals. It is as easy as A B C. Good luck!” With this Nelson focused again on the musicians. I left him to enjoy the rest of Fingal’s Cave and wandered about until I found the green door.


I opened it and entered a large wood paneled and stone floored room. As I shut the door behind me I saw that there was no knob or handle on it it’s backside, and that it blended perfectly with the rest of the paneling to give no hint that a portal lay there. There were no other apparent entrances or exits to the room. The room was bare save for three large wooden cages. Each had a strange mechanical metal door and was labeled with it’s own sign “A”, “B”, and “C” respectively. The “A” cage held a dozen or more cats. Clearly the object was to move the group of felines to the other two cages in order. I opened the metal door of the first cage and the cats sped out to freedom. As I did this I saw the door on the “B” cage open automatically. I grabbed the nearest creature and tucked it under my arm and strode to the “B” cage. Tossing the cat into the cage I sought to then close it’s door. Alas the heavy door possessed some feature than prevented me from doing so. I came to the realization that I must likely get all the felines into the second cage before the third cage’s door would open. I couldn’t just physically move them one by one, I would have to act as a Shepard and herd them!

To make matters more difficult the cats all began to sniff the air and grow greatly agitated. They circled me and made strange meows and growls. Suddenly one leaped on my arm and began clawing at me. The others circled about me looking at me with crazed and savage eyes. Flinging the animal off I began to fear that I would receive a worse mauling than Mr. Red had sustained. Another leapt on my back and as I extricated the excited cat from my person my hand came across an small sachet that had been pinned to my jacket. Bringing the small bag to my nostrils I detected a highly concentrated scent of Nepta cataria. Catnip! Suddenly the real purpose for Mr. Dove’s “friendly” pat on the back became clear. But in his attempt to foil my efforts he had unwittingly given me a quick way to complete them! I threw the sachet to the back of the “B” cage. Instantly the cats gave chase. They growled and trod over each other in their frantic race to enter the second cage. As I suspected, as soon as the last mewling cat had entered the “B" cage, the "C" cage door automatically opened. Reaching in through the wooden slats I grabbed the sachet and tossed it into the “C” cage. Again the mass of cats ran after it. When all were inside, the “C” cage’s door shut itself . As it did, a hidden door opened from the paneled wall to provide me my exit from the chamber.

Mr. Dove seemed most surprised when I walked into the waiting room. I moved toward him but was prevented from fully expressing my displeasure at his tactics by the intervention of Rob. The Herald explained that whatever my grievance, I had to know that in the rules regarding these trials applicants were expected to use whatever means they wished in there completion. Mr. Dove smiled broadly and added “which means by hook or by crook as the Moderator David was so kind to explain.” Rob shrugged and said “regrettably this is true” and urged me to take a seat. I did so and glared at Mr. Dove. The three of us waited for Mr. Malt to complete the challenge.

A full half hour passed and then we heard a great roaring cry of “YE DRATTED BLUIDY ROTTEN BEASTIES! I’LL MAKE YE ALL INTO A SPORRANS!”

There came a great crashing sound of splintering wood and then there was silence. When Dee emerged through the door he stated “Mr. Malt will not be continuing onto the next challenge. The Moderator David will be helping him prepare a new full mask sporran whilst you continue onward." With this the tam was once again produced and Mr. Dove and myself waited for our names to be called.

To be continued…

[davedove]

Mr. Dove seems like a most resourceful individual. He definitely has his ideas right.

[BEEDEE]

Perhaps you and the F-HCAG need a similar set of cages to restrain your feline so that the F-HCAG can continue the corduroy X-Marks kilt without interuption!

Brian

[Panache]

The Curious Tale of Panache and the League of the Moderators

Chapter 13

Fifth Challenge: Order in the Classroom


Mr. Dove and I exchanged dark stares. Our names were read and I was to go before him. I confidently strode toward the fifth carved door and came to a pleasant little sitting room. The Moderator Colin rested on a settee and was drinking a glass of whisky. He rose and from his pocket withdrew a bar of chocolate. He offered it to me. I declined and explained that sadly the consumption of such confections led me to the most terrible of headaches. I did allow that in my childhood I had been a great fancier of chocolate and had craved it’s sweet richness in all forms.

Colin smiled “Ah childhood, such a magical time. As fathers, we both know the joys that children bring to our lives. They are creatures of the moment, beings of great enthusiasm, high energy, and yet also of sensitive natures. A good parent must be able to focus their child’s wandering attention, harness that youthful power, and do so without crushing their gentle spirit. To do so requires a combination of patience and ability to lead. Which brings us to the next challenge”. Colin walked me over to a red door on the room’s left wall. He opened it and my ears were assailed with a most piercing series of shrieks and yells. We entered a large children’s nursery. An indeterminate number of boys and girls ran about screaming at the top of their lungs. Their ages seemed to range between the ages of 4 and 8 years of age. Some of the girls were playing with a doll house, others ran after a bright yellow ball, whilst yet another group was playing dress up with costumes from a old blue chest. Most of the boys were engaged in fighting over the possession of a particular toy pop gun. All these activities were done whilst the children yelled at the top of their lungs.

Colin said “Your task is to organize these 20 youngsters into doing something productive.” I noted that Rob had now entered the room and took a seat in the corner next to a large stuffed bear. Colin continued “ Rob will monitor you to ensure you do not threaten or attempt any physical coercion on the children…” Here Colin was interrupted by some of the boys who had stopped fighting over the toy gun long enough to start fighting over the ownership of a toy wooden sword. The boys crashed into us amidst their pursuit of the one holding the toy saber. “…As I was saying, you must accomplish this task without threat. Instead you must relate to them and direct them into performing some coordinated act that demonstrates your ability to lead. “ Colin finished. He nodded at me and headed out of the room. The Moderator stopped at the doorway and turned to look at me. “Just to make it more fun. These children have all been given all the chocolate they could eat about 10 minutes ago. Good luck!” he said with a wink.

I stood there and regarded the whirling screaming mass of children before me.

I had an idea. It was a wonderful idea. And this particular idea would enable me to pass this test and avenge myself as well as Mr. Red and Mr. Derek.

I walked over to Rob, “By Hook or by Crook?” I asked. He gave me smile and nodded in affirmation.

I rubbed my hands together and allowed myself a short but decidedly evil cackle (which I’m sure that the Moderator David would have heartily approved of). I walked to the center of the nursery and began to rhythmically clap my hands together and perform a Scottish country dance I had mastered recently. The children (I had to trust there were in fact 20 of them being that it was impossible to accurately count them as they buzzed about the room) stopped their screaming for an instant and regarded me. One little boy flitted up to me and informed me that “I looked stupid!” This was followed immediately by the question “What are you doing?”

I smiled at the children and said “I’m doing a Scottish dance called The Wicked Highland Tide. It’s a lot of fun. Won’t you lovely children learn to dance it with me?”

One of the older boys announced “dancing is for girls! We don’t want to learn a stupid dance! We want to hit each other with sticks and break things!” A charming little girl of no more than 4 years of age looked up at me with wide eyes and explained “we girls are playing magic pretty unicorn horsies that are pegasuses and fly with the magic sugar plum fairies that all live in the big castle with the magic beautiful princesses that play with baby kitties and have tea parties with sugar cookies and…” I gently interrupted her at this point with a raised hand. “That’s too bad children, for this is a very special dance. All the good little boys and girls in Scotland are taught this dance and if they complete it they are given a special prize” I explained.

“A PRIZE!” they all shouted. A boy shouted from the back of the room “What kinda prize?” “YEAH WHAT KINDA PRIZE?“ they demanded.

“Well if you are a good little girl and do learn the dance well, you shall receive a REAL beautiful PONY that will be your bestest friend forever and ever and ever. You will ride it to the park, and play games with it, and have tea parties with it, and it will love you forever and ever!“ With this the girls all grew silent and looked at me with amazement.

Another boy yelled “We don’t want a stupid pony!”

“Well of course you don’t“, I concurred. “Good little boys that learn to do this dance are given their very own REAL razor sharp SWORDS and REAL PISTOLS that they can kill things with!” With this the boys grew silent at the prospect of owning real armaments.

The oldest boy said quietly “so how does this dance go?”

I lined the children up and taught them the very complicated “Wicked Highland Tide”. Though it had taken me and my lovely bride months to learn this particular dance, the children mastered it easily, so inspired were they at the promise of gentle ponies and deadly weapons. After 45 minutes I clapped out the beat as the boys bowed to the girls and the girls curtseyed to the boys. The couples stepped, turned, and gracefully promenaded about the floor. I heard more hands joining my clapping and saw that Colin had returned and he and Rob were joining in the fun. When the dance was over all applauded the children’s efforts. Colin looked at me and said “Well done! Well done indeed Panache! You pass with flying colors and may proceed.” I thanked him and said that before I continued on I needed to speak with the children. He assured me this was fine and left me to speak with the young dancers.

I gathered them around and in a very conspiratorial whisper told them “You all did very well and I am very proud of you. Mr. Dove will be coming in through the door in just a moment with your ponies, your swords and your guns because you all deserve them. I just hope that Mr. Dove hasn’t been greedy and sold your beautiful ponies to the gypsies and your swords and guns to the iron monger to be melted down to make mop buckets. You make sure he gives you what you deserve.”

With this I left the wonderful dears and exited to the waiting room. Dee was there and asked me “How did it go?” We both heard a bloodcurdling shriek of anger and outrage arise from 20 young throats. This was followed my a man’s wail of despair and pain. I shouted to Dee above the horrible din “swimmingly dear fellow, just swimmingly”.

Rob joined us. He was smiling. “Mr. Dove was less than successful in interacting with the children and will not be proceeding onward. The doctor will attend his bruises and cuts and his hearing will return fairly soon.” Dee and Rob then shook my hand and wished me the best of luck with the last challenge. Dee pointed at the sixth (and presumably last) carved door I would need to go through. Rob said “Mike is waiting for you.”

To be continued…

[Weasel Mender]

That was Evil, Wicked, Mean, and Nasty, Panache,
I love it

[Panache]

The Curious Tale of Panache and the League of the Moderators

Chapter 14

The Last Challenge: Questions in the Dark


I had come too far to stop now, so I walked to the last door. I paused a moment to trace the carved “X” with my fingers before stepping through. The room beyond was without light and as the door swung shut I was enveloped in darkness. A voice said “step forward”. I moved forward as instructed. Suddenly a bright spotlight snapped on. I now stood in a small circular pool of light surrounded by the dark. I stood at attention and waited . The Moderator Mike appeared from the shadows. He wore a simple outfit of a solid charcoal colored kilt and a black shirt. Mike began to circle me. He walked an elliptical orbit that took him from shadow to light. Never breaking his stride he began to question me.

“You have done very well Panache. You have jumped through all the hoops and passed all the tests to find yourself here. You’ve shown the League of the Moderators you are worthy to join them. The question is now if YOU think you are worthy?

I nodded.

“Really? I’m surprised. Does your tread make the earth tremble as you stride mightily and with purpose?“

I said nothing.

“No? Are you able you flash bolts of lightning from your eyes when necessary?”

I said nothing.

“I thought not. Does smoke blow from your nostrils and flames from your breath when required?”

I said nothing.

Mike stopped directly in front of my face and yelled:

“CAN YOU SMITE SOMEONE DOWN EITHER RIGHTEOUSLY OR UNRIGHTEOUSLY LEAVING THEM SHATTERED IN A SMOKING CRATER?”

I looked Mike straight in the eye. Now was the time for me to answer.

“NO! I can’t do any of those things and neither can you! For all your tests and requirements you Moderators are just people like everyone else. You do your job, you try your best, and perhaps you even sometimes make mistakes. You and the rest of League are no different from the rest of us… well except for maybe David. The fact of the matter is that there is only one quality that all you Moderators share. And it is the one thing that you haven’t tested us on at all!

“And what is that?”, asked Mike.

“A love of the forum. Every member of The League of the Moderators is first and foremost a member of our forum. You are moderators because you want to preserve and maintain this great establishment. You serve your turn as long as you are able to, and do your best to make X Marks the Scot a worthy place to be part of. If you expect more than that from me then I admit defeat here and now”! With this said, I awaited judgment.

Mike stared at me and after a meaningful pause he broke into a smile.

“Well done Panache. You have passed! The spotlight snapped off and then the whole room was lit. I was in the Library and the other Moderators and their two Heralds were standing around the two us. As one they all began to clap. Even though I was very weary after such a long and arduous day, my heart was light with their applause.

All the Moderators went to sit behind a large table and I was motioned to sit in a chair across from them. Dee brought forth a large silver inkwell and goose quill. Rob held an ancient scroll of parchment wrapped around an ornate golden rod. These were set on table before the assembled Moderators. Mike said “and now Panache it is time for you to join the League.”

To be continued…