Story: Part the 19th

In which difficult moral questions are addressed. Also, featuring a new acronym!

The last grain of sand gently plopped down in the hour glass.
“Time!” called WW.
“Hah!” The faun proudly displayed his sheet of parchment with the words snaking down in an elegant cursive hand.
BSA glanced at the list and with a competitive smirk remarked, “Oh! It’s so cute and little!!” With a flourish she whipped out a large pile of parchment, which landed in the center of the glade with a very solid THUD.
“What is that!?” the faun stammered.
“Where I come from it’s called a ‘ream’” BSA continued smugly, “Of course, after I got bored finding all possible word combinations I also calculated your AMT.”
“But…but, I’m a mystical fantasy creature! I don’t pay income tax!” The faun stared at the parchment in horror. “You know what? Never mind. We’re not even going to compare lists. I just want you to go away.”
“Yeah! I win! I win! I win!” DFL triumphed before breaking into a hacking cough.
“All right little goat dude, tell us how to get home!” WW menaced.
With a sigh and a withering glare the faun began. “You will need to find a quartet of powerful and ancient wizards known only as 'The Croquet Players.' Their ways are ancient and mysterious. They can be found in the Menacing and Enchanted Forest.” he sketched a quick map in the snow. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m taking my Boggle game and going home.” With a huff the faun grabbed his game and ran out of the glade.
“Finally, the word game is over” TA sighed as she stepped out of the shadows.
“There you are!” WW pointed dramatically.
“This sucks” coughed DFL. “Look at this map, the forest is forever away and probably lacking in amenities. Blue and Frozen is not a good look for me!”
A thick fur coat sailed across and landed on DFL. “Sweet! Mink!”
Everyone turned and stared at TA.
“What?” TA put on her innocent eyes.
“You stole that faun’s Magical Bag o’ Stuff!! That means there Is No Receipt!” BSA gasped in horror.
WW stared at TA in shock. “You can’t steal. We’re the good guys.”
“The technical term is ‘protaganist’ and stealing is part of the ninja lifestyle. Why I remember back at ninja school. . .”
“Well you’re part of our group now and we have a firm No Stealing policy. Isn’t that right DFL?”
DFL was trying on her new coat. “Oh yes, horrible. Horrible. There’s no denying the moral implications that stealing has on our status as heros.”
A can of Diet Coke landed at her feet. “But obviously TA was just requisitioning much needed supplies for our quest. Including such desperate commodities as a pair of Sartore leather knee boots, a Marc Jacobs satchel, and Brad Pitt.”
The boots and the bag plopped over by the Coke. DFL tapped her foot impatiently, coughing intermittently.
“It’s a Bag o’ Stuff.” TA pointed out, “inanimate objects only.”
“This is wrong!” WW made a grab for the ninja, but TA evaded it easily. “Back me up BSA!”
“Give me one of those bags and a Coke and we’re good.” BSA shrugged.
“Fine.” Growled WW as her face went red, “Then I want some whole milk!”
TA distributed her bribes, er supplies. “Great, now let’s head to the forest.”

The four friends headed for the MAEF, not realizing that it is the fate of all wandering adventurerers to have a random monster encounter between sets. Er chapters. Quests. Whatever. They had just passed the snow line and were making their way through the muddy countryside when they were set upon by:

A: The Peanut Gallery
B: Hippies
C: Yama-Uba, the mountain crone
D: Ekibiogami: The Japanese god of epidemic diseases such as plague and pestilence