Finding bits of what looked suspiciously like a limb inside the mouth of a notoriously temperamental kraken should not come as much of a surprise to anyone. Particularly if the kraken in question belonged to the most gleefully malicious overlord known to the world and its cat.
Perfidious Albion took a deep breath, straightened his hat, and tried not to feel intimidated. Opposite him, five and a half feet of condensed evil swung her warhammer lazily in time to the methodical crunching of the kraken's jaw.
"If there's no one to want it back," said the overlord, "I really struggle to see what all the fuss is about."
"With all due respect, Your Malevolence," said Perfidious, side-eyeing the kraken as it started pinging a femur off the walls of its tank, "it's not every day that flying limbs come crashing through peoples' parlour windows."
"You people must have very boring Tuesdays, then."
Perfidious decided not to press any further on that front - his imagination was already going to cry itself to sleep in a corner for the next month, it needed no more fuel today - and changed tack.
"But don't you think it a little odd, O Queen of the Seven Malaises, that you should find yourself in possession of a leg whose description exactly matches that of the one found in the capital today?"
"What's a few thousand miles and a mountain range against some good old-fashioned enthusiasm?"
The kraken, sensing that its unexpected mid-morning snack had become the focus of a discussion, paddled over to investigate. The Soul-Eater stretched idly, and reached over to tickle the end of an inquisitive tentacle, and Perfidious finally gave into the urge to take a half-step back as another tree-sized appendage began probing the ground around his left foot.
"To be quite honest," said the Defiler of Light, setting aside her warhammer to turn her full attention to teasing her collossal pet, "I don't know why you're so concerned. Last month we had three plagues, five kinslayings, a planetary alignmnent and the reappearance of at least seven Long Lost Objects of Untold Power, and you didn't so much as pop around for tea and a crumpet. But one drastically misplaced midsection has you camping outside my door for three days? The neighbours were threatening a noise complaint."
The Black Foe gave the kraken a final pat, and strode back toward Perfidious, head tilted a little to one side and a slither of tooth showing through her smirking lips.
"I'm beginning to wonder if you and your associate goody-two-limbs haven't come down with a terminal case of mental flatulence."
Perfidious sighed. There really was nothing else for it, was there? Slowly, keeping one eye on his hostess, he withdrew from his pocket a small flat disk. It was about the size of his palm, its white surface marked by evenly-spaced black symbols, with a pair of long silver wands ticking in a faintly sinister manner as they wandered in ever-decreasing circles around its face.
The Paragon's Bane furrowed her brows and leaned over to investigate. Then, with a shriek like a gnome with its foot in a waffle iron, she sprang backwards and nearly collided with face of her bemused pet. The kraken retracted its searching tentacles and made a piteous whining noise at its mistress' distress.
Perfidious let out a breath, and as his yellow eyes met her blue ones, he knew, at last, that they understood one another.
"Plot holes."
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