This may take a while to get to the actual question. But oh well.

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     In the secluded, quiet, serene forestland of Nevada, there is a small clearing.  Here, a person named Mr. Mopplehopple has founded a society based around the lives of the heros in generic fantasy novels before the Dark Lord Whats-his-name needs to be defeated.  Using magical hairpins, he can control the minds of the denizens (they have been born into the society) to think that his small shack is a noble castle and that the small hovels scattered about are actually a town. Also, it can simulate magic in their minds.  They wore white gowns and stuff all the time, and did nothing but frolick abour. Of course they had to hunt their own food, but that's okay. And there wasn't any crime (that would complicate the story and require me to make this longer).  Mr. Mopplehopple presided over the town as mayor peacefully for about fifty years, when he died (ran away to las vegas), and his son took over. No worries for anyone living there!
     After a few generations, one was born into this society, and he was named Gop. He longed for a villian to give the society a purpose for all his life. No one liked him, as he always had a quite dark disposition and was quite sadistic.  At age 30, he mysteriously died (ran away to las vegas). No one mourned.

     One day, a citizen of the society, was out hunting for food with his "elven-crafted" bow and arrow, which had been handed down through his family for generations since Mr. Mopplehopple founded the society. For hours he chased about a large bear, until he found it mysteriously and inexplicably dead, with a strange soemthing attatched to it. It was shaped like a triangle, sort of, and was made of a thin white material. In black runes upon this...white thing was written "Gop is coming." The citizen, named Borne, ran back to the town and its protective castle, and warned everyone, including the antisocial blacksmith, who had been Gop's uncle before he "died." The citizens quickly branded Gop as Dark Lord Gop. The blacksmith was afraid that they would come after him, but they were all good-natured folk. It was such a pleasent town, and no one tried to hurt him.
     The next day, while a hunting party was out searching for the Dark Tower/Fortress of the Dark Lord Gop, Gop himself appeared, flanked on all sides by strange men in odd clothing that Gop referred to as "lawyers." These were, it was obvious to the villagers, his Dark Rider-type cronies.       The Dark Lord Gop stepped forth, as the hunting party returned, and uttered his curse to the people of the village, "Long ago, Mr. Mopplehopple leased this land for you! And his lease has expired!"
     The villagers knew not what a lease was. But it sounded like some magic spell. They cowered.
     "Stop!" cried the king of the land, Mopplehopple's direct descendant (Martin Mopplehopple), running out of his castle, "The lease was intended to last longer!" for he among all those in the village knew the truth of the village's scam.
     "Ah, Martin! Last I saw you, you were but a child! And now look at you. A child but slightly larger."
     "The lease shall not expire for yet another fifty years!"
     "You are wrong! It expired yesterday."
     There were many gasps from the villagers, but they only did it for effect. They had no idea what was going on.
     "You lie! You just want to hurt me people, you...you evil villian!"
     "I've learned much in the outside world, Martin. Including how to read! Apparently Mr. Mopplehopple the first did not!"
     "You sadistic fool! The contract is in this castle."
     "That is not a castle, fool."
     "Well, inside this...abode."
     "No! I have it here! It says, 'this lease ended yesterday'! Read it yourself!"
     He threw it at Mayor Martin, and indeed, it said just that.
     "Now, I'm afraid I'm going to have to evict everyone living here!" cackled the Dark One as lightning lanced overhead and rain began to pour down. "Out, now, or I shall have my lawyers choke you all in red tape!"
     "NO! don't do it!" pleaded Martin, "I'll have them out in a week, I promise."
     "Fine, Martin. I will return in a week! Bra ha ha ha ha!" declared Gop.
     "Did you just say 'Bra ha ha ha ha,' Gop? Hehehe," giggled Martin.
     "Well...how about...hmmm...ah ha! Fnor or or or orrrrr!"
     "Fnor or or or orrrrr? Hehe!"
     "Well...oh forget it! You'd best be out here in a week!" and then The Dark Lord Gop dissappeared into the driving rain.

     Mayor Martin soon called a town meeting, where he declared to the crowd, "Friends! I have a great thing to tell you.  If you would please remove the hairpins from your hair, now...."
     The citizens did this, and were shocked to find that their huge, protecting castle was actually just a multi-level shack made of sticks.  Their town was still intact, as they had built it themselves over the old (fake) buildings, except the oldest building in town, which was now a pumpkin and two mice.
     "You see," declared Martin, "the world you have been living in is a lie concocted by the first Mr. Mopplehopple based on low-grade fantasy books. I'm afraid to say it, but the outside world is very different, and you must all live there. Before you go out, though, let me warn you, th--"
     He was cut off by The Dark Lord Gop, who appeared fell out of a tree, saying, "Your week is up! Time to leave."
     "No, Gop! It has not been a week!" cried Martin.
     "Yes it has. Now get out, all of yas!" cackled the Dark One.
     Before Martin could object, the Dark One's horde of Lawyers appeared and prodded all of the town's citizens away fromt he forest using strange magical sticks that made you feel shocked if you touched it.  They drove the crowd all the way to Las Vegas, where they separated them into groups of two and scattered them.
     It was truly a dark day for those living in the village.

     One group was made up of Borne and his wife, Merriet. They clutched each other and wandered the hostile streets of Las Vegas, in their entire fantasy garb, searching for something familiar. One building was advertised in alrge glowing flashing letters as "The Sphynx Casino." They recognized Sphynx as a beast that they had heard roamed the forest, and they darted toward it, as it was the only thing they recognzied.
     To get to it, they had to cross a hard rock strip with white lines on it.  As they crossed this, a strange box-like creature sped by and had a short yet action-filled affair with Merriet, ending up with her as an interesting decoration on the rock strip.  Borne knelt over the colorful scar on the rock and wept for many hours, while creatures like the one that killed Merriet passed, screaming, "get out of the road!," "who do you think you are?" and "Crap, I hit an ettin, and now I almost hit this guy!"
     After his grieving had passed/five days later, Borne stood up and began to wander aimlessly, as if drunk.  Spectators, who had been watching his mourning and sharing popcorn, followed him, wondering why a homeless drunk was wandering the streets dressed as an elf.  One grabbed Borne and asked him, "would you like some food," to which Borne replied, "Surely, sure, I shall bring some to mine own forthwith," and drew out his bow.
     "No no no," the spectator said, "follow me, I'll take you to a restaurant. I'll pay for you."
     "Restaurant? Pay? What?"
     "And I'll get some coffee, it'll sober you up."
     "Coffee? Sober?"
     "...well, just follow me."

     They arrived at a restaurant, which was rather small and shaped like a tube.  Borne was frightened greatly.
     "Here, I'll order you a burger," said the person who had brought Borne to the restaurant.
     "Surely, I can hunt it myself."
     "No, you're drunk. Let me order."
     "Drunk? I fail to see the mea-"
     "Waiter, get me two burgers," called the nice person.
     "What? Burger? Is this some form of weaponry for mine bow?"
     "No, it's a large chunk of E. Coli in between bread pieces."
     "Oh," Borne pretended to know what 'E. Coli' was.
     The burgers arrived shortly, dripping with grease. Borne spied it, and, whipping out his bow, cried "have at you!" and emptied two thirds of his arrow supply into the saturated fat between bread pieces.
     "Well," said the person who had brought Borne to the restaurant, staring at the burger, bristling with arrows, with an arched eyebrow, "very interesting. Now take those...things out of it. And eat it, possibly."
     Borne did this, and, savoring the flavor of the saturated fat, ordered three more burgers.  Unfortunately, his digestive system did not approve of this, and decided to travel upwards to have a short chat with Borne's mouth. Unfortunately it had gathered to much momentum to stop and discuss its issues, but it didn't mind, as flying through the air can be quite fun.

     When Borne awoke, he was alone in the street again.  He was no longer in the large, odd place known as "Las Vegas," he was now somewhere entirely different. There were no buildings to be seen, only a large converted prison labelled "Corkie Commune - Now Housing for Three Month Periods! (only valid if you remain active) Apply inside!" Borne walked inside, bow in hand, and shot the first person he saw with it (Jeff).  He scurried around a bit, frightened by the overhead lights, until he wandered into an office.
     "Ah! An applicant!" said a shadowed figure.
     "I shall surely--"
     "Yes! Remember, you have to stay active for three months. Now, before I accept you, I need to know, what can you do for your commune?"
     "I am a magnificent hunter with mine weapons, and--"
     "Alright, you're accepted."

     So so Borne joined the Commune.

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