“Never attribute to malice that which is adequately explained by stupidity.”
— Robert J. Hanlon
When the Dark Lord was defeated by the elvish armies, the people of The Land thought his evil empire would crumble and leave them in peace. They were wrong.
It takes a lot of administrative work to make sure all the orcs are properly fed and armed, and the Dark Lord was only the top of a mighty pyramid bones and bureaucracy. Now, even a thousand years later, War 52A-B(3) rages on, and the Land is wracked by paroxysms of secretarian violence, misappropriation is rife upon the Accountant Sea, and the People toil in full compliance with the Standards of Subjugation.
But once a quarter, so it is said, between the hours of 11:45am and lunch time, deep in the labyrinthine vaults of the Rooms of Waiting, there opens a slot in the Complaints Window. And the smallest of heroes may find in his hands the One Form, which, when properly signed, stamped, copied, and notarized, may be cast through that Window, and get his permit approved to re-zone all the Land.