Story: Part the 20th

In which we finally continue, there is a surplus of adverbs, and BSA has a dance number.

Actually, it's been a little while so let's do a quick recap. Our four superheros were fighting the evil punk forces of Dr. Nose when they were suddenly sucked through a portal and found themselves in a strange new world. After narrowly avoiding a copyright infringement lawsuit, they defeated a faun in a game of boggle, thereby winning directions to "The Croquet Players" who might have some idea of how to get them home. So they are currently on their way to find these Players.

When we left, I asked you to pick the random encouter our heros were sure to have on their way to the Enchanted Forest.

Since I only got three votes, one each for A (Peanut Gallery), B (Hippies), C (Yama-Uba, the Mtn. Crone), I rolled a dice to see what our next adventure would be. . . and the dice roll is 5! So Yama-Uba the mountain crone.

Fresh from their triumph over the boggle faun, our four heroines continued on their way to the Menacing and Enchanted Forest. (MAEF) The mighty Amazon warrior Wonder Woman (WW) led the way, striding gallantly in her patriotic leathers. Her short blonde curls glinted in the sunlight as they picked their way below the snowline. Behind her was the fastidious Blood Sucking Accountant (BSA) still in Armani, still fond of puppies and hugs. The small, blonde BSA easily kept up with the much taller Amazon, singing a jaunty tune (Fergilicious) as she hiked. Much farther behind was the also-blonde Dictator For Life (DFL), who had changed from her toga to an outfit more suitable for the rough climate. Refusing to change out of her Sartore boots, (painful blisters) DFL lagged behind, muttering unpleasant things about mud, trails, and nature in general (“camping sucks.”) Bringing up the rear guard was The Author (TA) keeping to the shadows and spying for trouble, her ninja cowl made it impossible to determine her hair color(brownish-reddish-darkish.)

WW wormed her way through a tricky set of boulders and decided that this particular patch of mud would make for a good rest stop.
“Why are we stopping?” BSA asked brightly.
“Let’s wait for DFL and TA to catch up. I don’t like being so spread out on this mountain. It seems to have. . . intentions.” She scanned the horizon suspiciously.
“Okay. Want to see my new dance? I call it, ‘Hip Hop on a mountain.'”
So BSA danced while WW tried to think of a polite way to say, “No,” or “Please stop,” or “If I have to hear that song one more time I’m going to start drop kicking badgers.” Fortunately for the badgers, DFL finally made it round the boulders.
“This sucks! I am covered in mud!” DFL pointed dramatically at her boots and jeans.
TA appeared on top of a boulder, “Is it time for lunch? I’m starving.”
“Meatloaf time!” crowed WW.
“Yeah, let’s eat!” chimed in BSA, “let’s see how the Bag O’ Stuff (BOS) does duck a l’orange.”
“I vote for Cajun Grilled Shrimp (CGS).” DFL replied.
“What’s wrong with meatloaf?” an ignored WW wondered.
“I think the BOS is tired, guys. All I’m getting is ham and cheese.” TA distributed sandwiches.
As our heroes courageously ate their lunch, they were interrupted by a thin, quivery voice calling for help.
“Help!” the thin, quivery said. (Sorry, couldn’t help myself)
Everyone stopped mid-bite except WW. “To the rescue!” she yelled as she threw down her sandwich and raced towards the voice.
“Hey!” yelled TA, “The BOS worked hard on that!”
WW ploughed through the scrub, following the calls of distress. Behind her, she could sense her compatriots following, and in one case, cursing (guess who?) She burst into a small clearing, where a pile of dirty rags holding a knobby walking stick sat mewling on the rotted remains of a half-buried log. As the rags shifted WW could see that it was actually an old and extremely dirty woman. Her face was like an overripe apple, withered and brown as greasy wisps of grey hair crept from a tattered hood.
“Oh! Oh! Oh I’ve lost my house!” the old woman cried as she rocked back and forth on the log, her hands constantly twisting on the walking stick.
“It’s all right ma’am, I’m here to help.” WW approached her cautiously as her teammates arrived on the scene. “It’s all right guys” WW waved them back, “She’s just lost.”
“Oh what will I do?! I’ve lost my house and it’s getting dark!” The old woman looked plaintively up at WW.
"Dark?" muttered TA, "it's full noon."
DFL Looked at her and rolled her eyes as she made the universal "Crazy Cat Lady" sign.
“We’ll help you find your house. I promise.” WW said as she gently placed a hand in the general vicinity of where an arm might logically be.
“You will?” she snuffled pathetically.
“You have my super hero word of honor ma’am.” WW replied solemnly, her face somber despite the miasma of pungent odors swirling about her.
“Good!” the OW crowed, her voice suddenly strong. In an eye blink she grabbed WW’s shoulder, swinging up from the log and onto WW’s back. Two shuriken flew towards the OW’s head only to thunk solidly into her staff. BSA tossed a ten-key paper grenade but it exploded uselessly around the pair.
“She has a shield!” called BSA.
“That’s totally cheating!” DFL complained as the rocks she summoned hung uselessly in the air.
“Get off of me you crazy old bat!” WW yelled as she tried to grab the woman behind her, but every time she came close the OW whapped her head with the stick.
“Now, now, you gave Yama-Uba (YU) your word, and until you fulfill it you are my slave.” She cackled evilly. “Now, let’s go get that house.” Yama-Uba grabbed two fistfuls of WW’s hair, clucked her tongue and kicked her heels into WW’s ribs.
“I Am Not A Horse!!” WW yelled defiantly but, to her horror, her legs began to move under YU’s commands.
“Faster! Faster!” screeched YU and WW sprinted off into the brush.
“Well, crap.” Sighed DFL.

Our heros must save WW! Do they:

A: Track them down
B: Set an elaborate trap
C: Have milk and cookies
D: Cut their losses

Only you can decide! Tune in next time for: The Hunt for Wonder Woman!