Crack Pairings 3 - 50% More Squick

[Meg]

On the topic of Water-Smurf's fic, any ideas about who or what the creature watching at the end is? I'm completely clueless.

My guess is it's future V, who has completely lost it. But that's kind of... sci-fi-y, so I think that's probably not it.

[Aaron]

Gah! Damn it ABD, why do you have to be sexy?

Can't...resist...darn...it...losing...control...fe els like i'm....being...brainwashed or...something. *Tries to grope the ABD*


...
...
...Uh-oh...

Clean up on thread aisal 3!!!

[Cracklord]

I am thinking I am going to combine this and Belkar's 'adventures' to contain one continuity called "Dark Stick," In which every member turns evil one way or another (or eviler, as the case may be). So Slaanesh is just another name for Graz'zt.

OK, here's V at the temple of Slaanesh.

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They descended softly into darkness, V's booted feet echoing soft in the confined space. The woman had no such encumbrance, gliding noiselessly down the steps. Varsuvius began to wonder if the woman was even real, and had to stretch out a hand to touch her arm for reassurance.

The skin was soft as though she'd lived her entire life wearing velvet covers, without so much as a blemish or scratch.

A faint smell rose up the stairwell, tickling the elven mage's nose with it's spicy odor. Just as Vaarsuvius opened his mouth to inquire where the steps were lading them, the woman glided around another and Vaarsuvius found a large, subterranean chamber stretched out before them.

A variety of figures awaited them, of many different shapes and sizes. All features concealed behind masks, but the rest of their forms were not. Some were lithe and hard, others soft and curvy. A few were obscenely fat or gaunt, and one was so over-muscled his every movement looked almost painful.

They stood in concentric rings surrounding the spiral stairs - six, then twelve, then eighteen, then twenty four - all facing them, all facin Vaarsuvius, and raising their arms in a gesture of supplication. They cried out as the mage approached, filling the chamber with an exultant chant beyond the elf's comprehension.

The chants of the supplicants suffused the air, washing through and trembling the mages bones. It was like nothing the elf had ever felt before. Is this what it was like to be worshipped, to be adored?
It was something Vaarsuvius could grow to like,

As they approached, a figure handed the woman a goblet, who, with a sultry smile that made blood race, offered it to Varsuvius. "The prince of the revel has come!" The figures cheered, their voices trembling with anticipation.

"Drink." The women said in a voice pitched to carry across the caravan, yet still soft enough to feel intimate, her hand lingering on V's for a second longer then was strictly necessary. "Anoint yourselves with the necter of desire. Drink deep and awaken the hunger."

Moving slowly, as if in a dream, the elf took the chalice. V's mind raced, as it struggled to come to grips with what was happening. This was no blood and wine-soaked orgy as it had been initially taken for, this was some kind of perverse ritual.

So what should the mage do? part of the elf urged to throw down the chalice and run, but where would that take V? Back to the maze? Then what? The part that urged to face the inner demons was small, and weak compared to the lure of power.

Of course, Vaarsuvius was lying. The elf's mind had been made up the second the desirable women had awakened something within the elf long thought all but non-existent, desire.

Trembling slightly, the elf brought the cup to its lips careful, for some reason fearing to spill even a drop of the thick, sloshing liquid. Hot blood filled Varsuvius's mouth, bitter and salty. It slid like oil over the tongue, filling the elf with a hunger. Not just the mortal desires of one mage, but the appetites of each and every one of the supplicants who had poured some of their blood into the chalice.

Total power would not be enough. Kyrie's love would not be enough, nor the love of this new women who awakened something in Varsuvius that had never existed before, or perhaps been forgotten. Even godhood would not be enough. No amount of gold, no lands to rule, no lofty title or magical knowledge would ever satisfy the thirst Varsuvius now felt. Perhaps even the entire world would not be enough.
But the elf would feast upon it nonetheless.

Flesh. Food. Wine. Power. Murder. Every appetite Varsuvius could conceive, every desire, every scintillating taste reverberated through in waves of heat and cold. When Varsuvius closed its eyes, it was almost as though they could be seen, dancing throughout the mind, tasting their pleasure as they slaked their terrible, eternal, unquenchable hunger.

The women reached up and pried the cup from Vaarsuvius's grasp. The mage was surprised to discover once begun drinking, V hadn't paused until the cup was dry.

The revelers cheered again, and in that moment, Vaarsuvius felt like a god, drawing strength from their ecastic cries, as though the mage claimed some of their devotion for itself.

The women pressed against him, the heat of her nearly naked body radiating through V's cotton robes. Thunderous laughter filled Vaarsuvius's ears. Whether it was V's own, or the desire speaking through the elf's mouth didn't matter, V laughed along side it and stepped down the last few steps to join the revel.

Going to take a break from trying to write beings of pure squick (do you know how hard it is to keep this stuff PG?)
*8 bit theatre crossover next.

[CoffeeIncluded]

Okay! Today is a good day! I did really well on my Latin test and Math test, I think I did well on my History test, I'm feeling good for the Physics lab tomorrow, AND a new comic is up!

So I'm gonna go, do my homework, then pop back in here!

*Looks at Latin homework* Okay, it's 20-line translation of one of Horace's odes...Okay, it's an erotic one. I can deal with that, Catullus was probably worse.

(Note that the translation textbook we use has the text on one side and the vocab used in translating the text on the other)

*Takes a look at the vocab found in the text*

Neck, rosy, supple, swell, liquid, cheek, slip, a certain sexual organ, slow, deeply, soften, burn, pure, wild, press upon, lip, continuing, roughly, kiss, sexual activity, fill, three times, more, unbroken, bond, tear apart.

...

*Blinks*

...............Well then.

[Kaytara]

...Looks like you'll be getting your share of crack without this thread, then.

Eh, it's got nothing on the time we analyzed an incredibly boring and purple-prosed long BOOK from the POV of a narcissist womaniser conman (you'd think that kind of person would be interesting to read about...) Or the time we studied Freud in ethics class. Yeaaah. Those were the times.

[Zanaril]

My guess is it's future V, who has completely lost it. But that's kind of... sci-fi-y, so I think that's probably not it.

That would certainly be a twisty plot twist.

[CoffeeIncluded]

Oh, and did I mention that this poem's about a love triangle?

[BatRobin]

Nale x Crystal with American High School setting.

Someone write this, plz.

[Sequinox]

A new thread! I'm so behind it's crazy.

Still... I look forward to reading the craziest crack pairings yet... So, the new thread is now Sequinox - approved.

[Sstoopidtallkid]

Oh, and did I mention that this poem's about a love triangle?

Cross-post your work here. Perhaps replacing characters, perhaps not.

[Zanaril]

Oh, and did I mention that this poem's about a love triangle?

I wish I was learning latin. It sounds so much fun.

[Cracklord]

I am thinking I am going to combine this and Belkar's 'adventures' to contain one continuity called "Dark Stick," In which every member turns evil one way or another (or eviler, as the case may be). So Slaanesh is just another name for Graz'zt.

OK, here's V at the temple of Slaanesh.

Spoiler

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They descended softly into darkness, V's booted feet echoing soft in the confined space. The woman had no such encumbrance, gliding noiselessly down the steps. Varsuvius began to wonder if the woman was even real, and had to stretch out a hand to touch her arm for reassurance.

The skin was soft as though she'd lived her entire life wearing velvet covers, without so much as a blemish or scratch.

A faint smell rose up the stairwell, tickling the elven mage's nose with it's spicy odor. Just as Vaarsuvius opened his mouth to inquire where the steps were lading them, the woman glided around another and Vaarsuvius found a large, subterranean chamber stretched out before them.

A variety of figures awaited them, of many different shapes and sizes. All features concealed behind masks, but the rest of their forms were not. Some were lithe and hard, others soft and curvy. A few were obscenely fat or gaunt, and one was so over-muscled his every movement looked almost painful.

They stood in concentric rings surrounding the spiral stairs - six, then twelve, then eighteen, then twenty four - all facing them, all facin Vaarsuvius, and raising their arms in a gesture of supplication. They cried out as the mage approached, filling the chamber with an exultant chant beyond the elf's comprehension.

The chants of the supplicants suffused the air, washing through and trembling the mages bones. It was like nothing the elf had ever felt before. Is this what it was like to be worshipped, to be adored?
It was something Vaarsuvius could grow to like,

As they approached, a figure handed the woman a goblet, who, with a sultry smile that made blood race, offered it to Varsuvius. "The prince of the revel has come!" The figures cheered, their voices trembling with anticipation.

"Drink." The women said in a voice pitched to carry across the caravan, yet still soft enough to feel intimate, her hand lingering on V's for a second longer then was strictly necessary. "Anoint yourselves with the necter of desire. Drink deep and awaken the hunger."

Moving slowly, as if in a dream, the elf took the chalice. V's mind raced, as it struggled to come to grips with what was happening. This was no blood and wine-soaked orgy as it had been initially taken for, this was some kind of perverse ritual.

So what should the mage do? part of the elf urged to throw down the chalice and run, but where would that take V? Back to the maze? Then what? The part that urged to face the inner demons was small, and weak compared to the lure of power.

Of course, Vaarsuvius was lying. The elf's mind had been made up the second the desirable women had awakened something within the elf long thought all but non-existent, desire.

Trembling slightly, the elf brought the cup to its lips careful, for some reason fearing to spill even a drop of the thick, sloshing liquid. Hot blood filled Varsuvius's mouth, bitter and salty. It slid like oil over the tongue, filling the elf with a hunger. Not just the mortal desires of one mage, but the appetites of each and every one of the supplicants who had poured some of their blood into the chalice.

Total power would not be enough. Kyrie's love would not be enough, nor the love of this new women who awakened something in Varsuvius that had never existed before, or perhaps been forgotten. Even godhood would not be enough. No amount of gold, no lands to rule, no lofty title or magical knowledge would ever satisfy the thirst Varsuvius now felt. Perhaps even the entire world would not be enough.
But the elf would feast upon it nonetheless.

Flesh. Food. Wine. Power. Murder. Every appetite Varsuvius could conceive, every desire, every scintillating taste reverberated through in waves of heat and cold. When Varsuvius closed its eyes, it was almost as though they could be seen, dancing throughout the mind, tasting their pleasure as they slaked their terrible, eternal, unquenchable hunger.

The women reached up and pried the cup from Vaarsuvius's grasp. The mage was surprised to discover once begun drinking, V hadn't paused until the cup was dry.

The revelers cheered again, and in that moment, Vaarsuvius felt like a god, drawing strength from their ecastic cries, as though the mage claimed some of their devotion for itself.

The women pressed against him, the heat of her nearly naked body radiating through V's cotton robes. Thunderous laughter filled Vaarsuvius's ears. Whether it was V's own, or the desire speaking through the elf's mouth didn't matter, V laughed along side it and stepped down the last few steps to join the revel.

Going to take a break from trying to write beings of pure squick (do you know how hard it is to keep this stuff PG?)
*8 bit theatre crossover next.

Any good? Or did I mess somethig up?

[Zanaril]

Any good? Or did I mess somethig up?

Could do with more squick. I've come to have very high expectations of your stories.

[The Succubus]

Any good? Or did I mess somethig up?

A very fine balance you're having to work with there. Being a bit of a WH geek myself, I have an edition of the Liber Chaotica: Slaanesh, which often goes into very lurid detail about what those crazy kids get up to. Keeping it PG-13 is a mammoth challenge.

So far though, I'm liking it, although probably not as much as V is.

I bid you all goodnight with a short yet beautiful love story, with a tragic ending:

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They sat in the glow of the campfire, not saying a word, merely content to gaze at each other. The two lovers were so enraptured they were unaware that these would be the last tender moments they shared together in this world.

It was largely the attraction of opposites. He was the cold, silent type, a fighter but perfectly honed at what he did. He killed without thought, without emotion and without pretentious ideas as to whether he was doing the right thing. He had one single friend, aside from her, and had served faithfully all these years.

By contrast, she had almost nothing to do with warfare. Oh, certainly, she could be tough at times but largely she was sweet and popular with everyone that knew her. So much so, that her sisters had been wiped out by the cruel beast that preyed on their kind.

They had both been born in a dark and fiery place but to very different parents; he, from an area deep under the mountains near the main city of the dwarves. She had been raised in a farming community many hundreds of miles away. Fate, it seemed, had brought them together...


Without warning, the huge and callous creature had seized her in its grasp and before she could say or do anything, the beast slowly proceeded to devour her before the gaze of her horrified lover. He slipped away from his friend and rolled deep into the long grass, waiting for the time to strike. Sure enough, the hand of the creature slowly began to close over him – a lightning fast slash and the beast roared up, yelling in pain. A small vengeance had been enacted on behalf of the one dearest to him.

***********************

“A thousand curses, Sir Greenhilt. Be more careful where you leave that wretched sword of yours!” cried Vaarsuvius.

“I'm sorry V, but you deserve it for eating the last of your mate's banana and walnut muffins!”

[Cracklord]

A very fine balance you're having to work with there. Being a bit of a WH geek myself, I have an edition of the Liber Chaotica: Slaanesh, which often goes into very lurid detail about what those crazy kids get up to. Keeping it PG-13 is a mammoth challenge.

So far though, I'm liking it, although probably not as much as V is.

Don't they just? I remember reading the description of what happens when they summon a Keeper of Secrets.
In a totally unrelated thing, I have developed insomnia.

[Kaytara]

I have a batch of art to share! :D

An unfinished Spliced!Kyrie sketch I still have to get done colouring:

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A little something special for Discord.

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..And for Water-Smurf as well. :D

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This pairing needs more twisted love:

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And I was inspired to try and do Uncle Aandy, hopefully he doesn't look TOO similar to V... ^^;

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[CoffeeIncluded]

NICE! You're really good, Kaytara.

[The Dark Fiddler]

This pairing needs more twisted love:

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Fun fact: the idea I'll be using for the Oracle/Zz'dtri story was originally to be a Belkar/Vaarsuvius story, but I felt the pairing wasn't cracky enough.

Also, I need to learn to spell Z's name before I write this.

Or... is that BelkarxBlackwing?

[Dark Faun]

Those are wonderful Kaytara! You've no idea how much I love the V x Miko one. It's so going to be my new wallpaper.

Good job Cracklord too!

[Meg]

Yaaay! Art! Nice job.

[The Dark Fiddler]

It's so going to be my new wallpaper.

That's a great idea!

Belkar/Scruffy/Blackwing/Vaarsuvius is my new wallpaper.

[Meg]

... All y'all are a bunch of dorks.

Yes, yes, pot and the kettle and all that.

[Thor Person Guy]

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This one looks like Vaarsuvius to me. Sorry.

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But at least this one looks like Aandarius.

[Lycan 01]

A little something special for Discord.

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This pairing needs more twisted love:

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And I was inspired to try and do Uncle Aandy, hopefully he doesn't look TOO similar to V... ^^;

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These are my favorites. There all extremely good, but these really jumped out at me.

The level of detail in the Miko x V one is amazing. I totally wish I could draw like that... Their clothes, their expressions, the emotion... How do you manage to do that?!

Wow... Belkar looks so creepy, yet so AWESOME!! I don't think I've ever actually seen him drawn out before, and I must say, you did him justice. V looks pretty good, too, and I like that you added Mr. Scruffy and Blackwing. Very well done...

Okay. This... This is my new mental image of wizards. You did an astounding job of this. The level of detail is great, the posture and presentation is well done, and the expression on his face is... exquisite. It perfectly shows his concentration on the book, and his slight-but-almost-non-existant acknowledgement of whatever he's blasting into oblivion. Are you going to color this in? I'm going to save it to images, just because its so awesome, but if you actually colored it then it would likely become my new background.



I now feel under-talented as an artist.

[esmerelder]

*gasp* It's always a good day when I turn up to the crackfic thread and there is new Water-Smurf story *and* new Kaytara art!

Is is wrong that I find the image of Redcloak purring over V utterly, disarmingly adorable?

Also, although all Kaytara's pictures are great, of the last batch I think I love this one

This pairing needs more twisted love:

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best of all. That pairing really does need more love, especially since it's so close to being canon after all. I'll have to see what I can do...

This is totally not anything like as awesome as that, or even a Giant Worm/ABD pairing, but I've brought some more of the Bodyswap story. It continues on from here, is the result of drinking way too many Starbucks gingerbread lattes and is quite, quite ridiculous.

A handy guide for anyone who's forgotten:

has been turned into
has been turned into
has been turned into (and is under threat of dire punishment from if he tries anything inappropriate)
has been turned into
has been turned into

And whatever has happened to ...?

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Roy, Durkon and Elan rush towards Haley in a phalanx. They’re tailed by V, who’s wrapping the sleeve of Belkar's shirt around hir bleeding hand, and Belkar who can’t quite get his balance right on legs that are almost as long as his previous body.

Durkon reaches her first. ‘Haley, lass! Are ye alrigh’?’ She looks up at him blankly through Vaarsuvius’ eyes. It’s actually surprisingly creepy to see that expression of unfocused, transcendent bliss on the elf’s thin, serious face. Roy drops to his knees beside them.

‘Haley! Can you hear us?’

‘Heyyyy, Elan. You’re pretty.’ She reaches out to touch him gently on the arm, then bursts into a fresh peal of unnerving laughter.

Elan lunges forward and reaches for Haley. ‘Oh no! Something’s gone wrong with her, and she’s had her mind scrambled instead of swapped, hasn’t she! Haley! Speak to me!’

V steps forward. ‘Please allow me’. Fumbling one-handed at zir throat, ze removes Belkar’s tatty green cloak and drops it in one smooth motion over Haley’s head.

‘Miss Starshine? Are you able to understand me?’

From under the cloth, Haley’s voice sounds puzzled and odd, particularly filtered through the elf’s soft, husky vocal chords, but at least she’s able to answer. ‘V? Is that you? How come your voice sounds strange? Wait a minute, what’s happened to my voice, too? And hey, is it me or did Belkar just drop his cloak over my head?’

‘Ah. I thought as much. Please do not panic, Miss Starshine. It was I who placed the cloak over your head as a precautionary measure. It appears that we have become the unfortunate targets of some sort of arcane body-swapping spell.’

‘V, what are you talking about?’

Elan moves in to touch her, but is warned away by the elf. ‘Haley, it’s so strange! When we woke up, everyone was in everyone else’s bodies!

Belkar chimes in, ‘And not in a good, end-of-campaign cast-party way, either!’

Roy frowns at them. ‘It’s extremely weird, and that’s saying something given the normal standard of everyday background weirdness we deal with around here.’

‘Miss Starshine,’ V gestures towards the others to stop them from crowding her ‘can you please tell me what you experienced when you woke up this morning?’

Haley puts her hands to the hem of the cloak.

‘No! Please leave your face covered for the moment.’

‘But why --’

Roy raises an eyebrow. ‘Hmm. I think I see what you’re getting at, V. Haley, can you stay under the cloak for a minute and tell us what you saw?’

‘Well, OK, if it’s that important to all of you. I don’t think this spell has got me, though, 'cause I don't think I was in anyone else’s body. I just woke up and everything was really... different. It was like the world just got twenty times louder and brighter, and sort of, sort of sharper somehow, and everything smelled so good, the trees and the grass, it was just... And then I heard shouting and it was hurting my ears, so I came over here instead and then I saw this butterfly, and it was so beautiful, I mean have you ever really looked at – ’

‘Elan, do you still have that Mirror of +5 Good Hair Day?’

The bard nods, and clanks across the clearing to dig in his pack. He retrieves the mirror and hands it to V, who holds it up before Haley’s cloaked face. The wizard then nods at Roy, who pulls the cloak off Haley’s head once more.

‘Ahhhhhh. Allsobriiiight... ’ Her gaze falls upon the mirror. Dazedly, but with an obvious effort of mental concentration, she struggles to focus upon the face it shows her. Understanding dawning, she manages to whisper ‘V, am I...?’, before solemnly waggling one high, pointed ear-tip, then the other, then collapsing sideways in a fit of even more hysterical laughter.

‘It is as I suspected, Sir Greenhilt, Master Thundershield. I once conversed with a human master shapeshifter who dabbled with transubstantiation into elven form. She reported a very similar effect when she first attempted the transition’.

‘And that effect is?’

‘Essentially, that the human mind is adapted to deal only with the input provided by the human senses. Without wishing to be rude, I must state that my own eyes, ears and senses of smell, touch and taste are significantly more sensitive than those of any human. Thus, I surmise that Miss Starshine is currently being exposed to a level of sensory stimulation with which the human brain was not intended to cope. I am told that the experience, until one’s mind becomes accustomed to the extra stimulus, is not dissimilar to the effects of a powerful psychedelic hallucinogen’.

Elan frowns through Durkon’s beard, an expression of utter confusion dominating his face. Vaarsuvius sighs, and shrugs hir shoulders.

‘She is, as I believe the former occupier of my current physical form would put it, completely bombed off her face.’

Belkar grins. ‘Alright, Haley! Hey Ears, if I’d known being an elf was the equivalent of being on an LSD trip 24-7, I’d have understood a lot more of your behaviour over the last year or so.’

Roy attempts to glare at him severely. The effect, on Elan’s delicate features, looks more like the pout of a petulant child. ‘That’s enough, Belkar. So V, I’m guessing from what I’ve just seen that if we keep Haley’s head covered, she’ll be able to calm down enough to talk to us.’

‘EEE hee hee! A ladybird! Look, Durkon, LADYBIRD!’

‘You are correct, Sir Greenhilt. And as her mind becomes accustomed to processing the input from my elven senses, I believe that her normal levels of sobriety will eventually reassert themselves. However, this leads me to fear that the situation is in fact more serious than I had previously believed. Master Thundershield – ’ the elf holds out Belkar’s left hand, still gently oozing from the earlier cautionary stabbing ‘would you kindly attempt to heal this for me, please?’

Durkon steps in to V, wrapping both of Roy’s large hands around Belkar’s small, wiry one. He bows his head to Thor and whispers the spell. A warm white light utterly fails to materialise and magically heal the injury. Shocked, the dwarf pulls back. ‘I dinnae understan’ - ’

‘Elan, will you make an attempt also?’

Elan repeats the ritual, doing his best to copy the way he’s always seen the cleric heal the other party members. When he pulls his hands away, the injury continues to bleed through the makeshift bandage.

‘I suspected as much. Stand back!’ Vaarsuvius whirls around and attempts to throw a fireball across the clearing. The only noticeable effect is that ze spins hirself off-balance, and tumbles into a pile of leaves, no magic accomplished.

‘I believe, if all present are satisfied as to the results of the experiment,’ a pair of hairy feet emerge from the leaf-pile, followed by the rest of the wizard, ‘we will perhaps not ask Miss Starshine to attempt to cast a fireball at present.’

‘Eeee! It’s got ANTENNAS! And it’s waving them at me! Hello, ladybird!’

‘Oh, man!’ Elan flaps Durkon’s stubby arms in panic. ‘You guys have lost your magic! How did that happen?’

‘I am afraid that my initial assessment of the situation was incorrect. This is not, in fact, a polymorph spell, but rather it appears to be a genuine exchange of our consciousnesses between our physical forms. As to what could cause such an unusual magical effect, I must confess that I am so far unable to fathom it.’

Roy frowns. ‘Durkon, I guess Thor thinks he’s given you your spells for the day, but they’re anchored to your physical body and Elan’s not a cleric, so he’s not able to use them. V, I’m guessing that Belkar’s body hasn’t learned how to do the hand motions for most of the spells you cast – ’

‘And you haven’t exactly helped matters by slicing-and-dicing my favourite set of tendons, either, Fairy Titania. I hope you know you’ll be forking over the gold for a healing spell if Beardface’s magic is permanently out, right? I mean, you do realise I need that hand for – ’

Belkar is mercifully cut off by an indignant squawk from Haley as Roy drops the cloak back over her head, frightening her ladybird away. ‘Right, everyone. Listen up. That village we went through yesterday morning, I’m pretty sure they had a wizard there. We’re going to backtrack back there and get this problem resolved as soon as possible, because as it stands right at the moment, this party is in some serious danger. We’re down both our casters, Haley’s in no state to be let anywhere near a bow, we need to get Belkar’s – I mean, V’s – hand healed before he can fight properly, and – ’ he looks as if he’s about to burst into tears ‘I can’t even lift my own sword! We’re sitting targets for every bandit, monster or other random encounter between here and civilisation!’. Roy claps one hand over his mouth, horrified, as he hears his voice rising into the panicked squeak in which Elan tends to speak when he's nervous or upset.

‘Awww, Roy.’ Elan reaches up to put his arm around his own body’s narrow shoulders. ‘Shhh, don’t cry. Here, you can have my rapier. And if you promise to take care of him, I’ll even let you hold Banjo!’

* * *

‘Travel, travel, travel-back-to-the-village-so-we-can-all-get-put-back-in-our-proper-bodies!’

‘Aargh!’

‘OWWWWW! NOISE!’

‘Shut UP!’

‘Will you desist that infernal racket!’

‘Elan, lad,’ Durkon looks down at his team-mate kindly, ‘I know ye’re only tryin’ to help, but ye must stop that. I cannae carry a tune in an electrum-plated bucket meself, and now ye’re me, ye cannae sing either.’

Tears stand out in the brown eyes. ‘But – but Durkon, it’s what I DO! How can I be any help if I can’t sing a song to help lift our spirits during this dark or-ordeeeaalllll....’

‘And ye neednae start turnin’ on the waterworks, neither, I dinnae want to be washin’ snot outta me beard for days when we get changed back.’

The Order is now an even rattier-looking group than they appeared when they woke up this morning. Roy has insisted on swapping outfits with Durkon, although his own tunic and chain mail are now ridiculously large on him, and he’s struggling not to trip over his oversized boots. Due to inescapable Strength penalties, Durkon is now carrying Roy’s greatsword, Elan has Durkon’s hammer (he’s only dropped it on his foot twice so far), and Roy has Elan’s rapier, although he has declined the offer of Banjo the puppet. Belkar is wearing Haley’s leather armour (having been forbidden to take his clothes off by general consensus) and is carrying his own daggers, while V, lacking any other means of defending hirself, is now carrying Haley’s bow. Haley herself is stumbling along in the centre of the party with the others ranked defensively around her, Belkar’s cloak cinched about her shoulders and draped across her face in order to block out as much sound and vision as possible while still allowing her to walk. Occasional strange noises emerge from under the hood, but she appears to be settling down somewhat.

‘Hey, Hex Factor,’ Belkar leans around to Elan with Haley’s mischievous smile plastered across his face ‘if you want to make yourself useful, why don’t you take over helping Lucy in the Sky over here for a while? She keeps tripping over rocks and grass and stuff, and it’s not as much fun watching her do it when there’s no point in looking down her top.’

Elan gasps, and hurries to the middle of the group. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Haley. I was distracted, I should have been helping you from the start.’ He gently reaches under the cloak to take her hand.

Haley’s mind, even with the protection of the cloak, is a chaotic blur. She is beset by a million million unfamiliar sensations, the sun on her shoulders like melting gold the swirl of the red robes around her ankles the life in the earth rushing up through her bare elven feet and distant birdsong things in the trees, music of the leaves, stars invisible in the daytime sky and the clouds splitting and scattering overhead... But now all of this is overridden by the hand that slips into hers. She can feel the pulse and thump of his heart – Durkon’s heart, really, but even through the fog she knows it’s Elan’s too – through the hard skin of his hand, thick strong fingers wrapped around her own, she can hear his blood and internal organs, the gasp and sigh of air in his lungs, and it’s intoxicating, intoxicating. Before Elan can stop her, she reaches up and flicks the cloak off her head, forgetting all the overwhelming clamour of the outside world in the desire to look upon the face that isn’t even his own.

In the rear of the party, Durkon reaches down to nudge V gently on the shoulder. The two of them pause to take in the spectacle of their own bodies gazing adoringly into one another’s eyes, hands entwined as they walk slowly down the forest path. For one awful frozen minute, they trade looks of the purest horror, then break as one and sprint towards the front rank to begin the imperative task of distracting Belkar before he notices what’s going on.

But Belkar, it appears, has problems of his own...

To be continued!

Also, gah! Totally ninja'd by Discord coming so close to guessing what was going to happen in this episode -- now I see why the Giant likes us to keep our guesses about what's going to happen next under spoiler tags!

[CoffeeIncluded]

Esmerelder, did I mention that you're a fantastic writer today?

[esmerelder]

Aw, thanks. It's so much more fun than writing any of the stuff I'm supposed to be writing

Also, congratulations on the Latin test, that is fantastic!

[CoffeeIncluded]

Thank you! And I fully believe that these Latin authors would have fully supported this thread!

(Of course, now my physics homework is an absolute nightmare...)

[Lycan 01]

I wish I could learn Latin...


Esmerelder, you're awesome. Seriously, I love your current little project. I read the first part the other day, but I didn't get a chance to tell you how awesome it was. This part was just as great. I can't wait to see what happens next! And remember how I said I've been needing some more less-angsty crack-fics to cheer me up? This does the trick.

[Aaron]

And whatever has happened to ...?

Spoiler

Show

Roy, Durkon and Elan rush towards Haley in a phalanx. They’re tailed by V, who’s wrapping the sleeve of Belkar's shirt around hir bleeding hand, and Belkar who can’t quite get his balance right on legs that are almost as long as his previous body.

Durkon reaches her first. ‘Haley, lass! Are ye alrigh’?’ She looks up at him blankly through Vaarsuvius’ eyes. It’s actually surprisingly creepy to see that expression of unfocused, transcendent bliss on the elf’s thin, serious face. Roy drops to his knees beside them.

‘Haley! Can you hear us?’

‘Heyyyy, Elan. You’re pretty.’ She reaches out to touch him gently on the arm, then bursts into a fresh peal of unnerving laughter.

Elan lunges forward and reaches for Haley. ‘Oh no! Something’s gone wrong with her, and she’s had her mind scrambled instead of swapped, hasn’t she! Haley! Speak to me!’

V steps forward. ‘Please allow me’. Fumbling one-handed at zir throat, ze removes Belkar’s tatty green cloak and drops it in one smooth motion over Haley’s head.

‘Miss Starshine? Are you able to understand me?’

From under the cloth, Haley’s voice sounds puzzled and odd, particularly filtered through the elf’s soft, husky vocal chords, but at least she’s able to answer. ‘V? Is that you? How come your voice sounds strange? Wait a minute, what’s happened to my voice, too? And hey, is it me or did Belkar just drop his cloak over my head?’

‘Ah. I thought as much. Please do not panic, Miss Starshine. It was I who placed the cloak over your head as a precautionary measure. It appears that we have become the unfortunate targets of some sort of arcane body-swapping spell.’

‘V, what are you talking about?’

Elan moves in to touch her, but is warned away by the elf. ‘Haley, it’s so strange! When we woke up, everyone was in everyone else’s bodies!

Belkar chimes in, ‘And not in a good, end-of-campaign cast-party way, either!’

Roy frowns at them. ‘It’s extremely weird, and that’s saying something given the normal standard of everyday background weirdness we deal with around here.’

‘Miss Starshine,’ V gestures towards the others to stop them from crowding her ‘can you please tell me what you experienced when you woke up this morning?’

Haley puts her hands to the hem of the cloak.

‘No! Please leave your face covered for the moment.’

‘But why --’

Roy raises an eyebrow. ‘Hmm. I think I see what you’re getting at, V. Haley, can you stay under the cloak for a minute and tell us what you saw?’

‘Well, OK, if it’s that important to all of you. I don’t think this spell has got me, though, 'cause I don't think I was in anyone else’s body. I just woke up and everything was really... different. It was like the world just got twenty times louder and brighter, and sort of, sort of sharper somehow, and everything smelled so good, the trees and the grass, it was just... And then I heard shouting and it was hurting my ears, so I came over here instead and then I saw this butterfly, and it was so beautiful, I mean have you ever really looked at – ’

‘Elan, do you still have that Mirror of +5 Good Hair Day?’

The bard nods, and clanks across the clearing to dig in his pack. He retrieves the mirror and hands it to V, who holds it up before Haley’s cloaked face. The wizard then nods at Roy, who pulls the cloak off Haley’s head once more.

‘Ahhhhhh. Allsobriiiight... ’ Her gaze falls upon the mirror. Dazedly, but with an obvious effort of mental concentration, she struggles to focus upon the face it shows her. Understanding dawning, she manages to whisper ‘V, am I...?’, before solemnly waggling one high, pointed ear-tip, then the other, then collapsing sideways in a fit of even more hysterical laughter.

‘It is as I suspected, Sir Greenhilt, Master Thundershield. I once conversed with a human master shapeshifter who dabbled with transubstantiation into elven form. She reported a very similar effect when she first attempted the transition’.

‘And that effect is?’

‘Essentially, that the human mind is adapted to deal only with the input provided by the human senses. Without wishing to be rude, I must state that my own eyes, ears and senses of smell, touch and taste are significantly more sensitive than those of any human. Thus, I surmise that Miss Starshine is currently being exposed to a level of sensory stimulation with which the human brain was not intended to cope. I am told that the experience, until one’s mind becomes accustomed to the extra stimulus, is not dissimilar to the effects of a powerful psychedelic hallucinogen’.

Elan frowns through Durkon’s beard, an expression of utter confusion dominating his face. Vaarsuvius sighs, and shrugs hir shoulders.

‘She is, as I believe the former occupier of my current physical form would put it, completely bombed off her face.’

Belkar grins. ‘Alright, Haley! Hey Ears, if I’d known being an elf was the equivalent of being on an LSD trip 24-7, I’d have understood a lot more of your behaviour over the last year or so.’

Roy attempts to glare at him severely. The effect, on Elan’s delicate features, looks more like the pout of a petulant child. ‘That’s enough, Belkar. So V, I’m guessing from what I’ve just seen that if we keep Haley’s head covered, she’ll be able to calm down enough to talk to us.’

‘EEE hee hee! A ladybird! Look, Durkon, LADYBIRD!’

‘You are correct, Sir Greenhilt. And as her mind becomes accustomed to processing the input from my elven senses, I believe that her normal levels of sobriety will eventually reassert themselves. However, this leads me to fear that the situation is in fact more serious than I had previously believed. Master Thundershield – ’ the elf holds out Belkar’s left hand, still gently oozing from the earlier cautionary stabbing ‘would you kindly attempt to heal this for me, please?’

Durkon steps in to V, wrapping both of Roy’s large hands around Belkar’s small, wiry one. He bows his head to Thor and whispers the spell. A warm white light utterly fails to materialise and magically heal the injury. Shocked, the dwarf pulls back. ‘I dinnae understan’ - ’

‘Elan, will you make an attempt also?’

Elan repeats the ritual, doing his best to copy the way he’s always seen the cleric heal the other party members. When he pulls his hands away, the injury continues to bleed through the makeshift bandage.

‘I suspected as much. Stand back!’ Vaarsuvius whirls around and attempts to throw a fireball across the clearing. The only noticeable effect is that ze spins hirself off-balance, and tumbles into a pile of leaves, no magic accomplished.

‘I believe, if all present are satisfied as to the results of the experiment,’ a pair of hairy feet emerge from the leaf-pile, followed by the rest of the wizard, ‘we will perhaps not ask Miss Starshine to attempt to cast a fireball at present.’

‘Eeee! It’s got ANTENNAS! And it’s waving them at me! Hello, ladybird!’

‘Oh, man!’ Elan flaps Durkon’s stubby arms in panic. ‘You guys have lost your magic! How did that happen?’

‘I am afraid that my initial assessment of the situation was incorrect. This is not, in fact, a polymorph spell, but rather it appears to be a genuine exchange of our consciousnesses between our physical forms. As to what could cause such an unusual magical effect, I must confess that I am so far unable to fathom it.’

Roy frowns. ‘Durkon, I guess Thor thinks he’s given you your spells for the day, but they’re anchored to your physical body and Elan’s not a cleric, so he’s not able to use them. V, I’m guessing that Belkar’s body hasn’t learned how to do the hand motions for most of the spells you cast – ’

‘And you haven’t exactly helped matters by slicing-and-dicing my favourite set of tendons, either, Fairy Titania. I hope you know you’ll be forking over the gold for a healing spell if Beardface’s magic is permanently out, right? I mean, you do realise I need that hand for – ’

Belkar is mercifully cut off by an indignant squawk from Haley as Roy drops the cloak back over her head, frightening her ladybird away. ‘Right, everyone. Listen up. That village we went through yesterday morning, I’m pretty sure they had a wizard there. We’re going to backtrack back there and get this problem resolved as soon as possible, because as it stands right at the moment, this party is in some serious danger. We’re down both our casters, Haley’s in no state to be let anywhere near a bow, we need to get Belkar’s – I mean, V’s – hand healed before he can fight properly, and – ’ he looks as if he’s about to burst into tears ‘I can’t even lift my own sword! We’re sitting targets for every bandit, monster or other random encounter between here and civilisation!’. Roy claps one hand over his mouth, horrified, as he hears his voice rising into the panicked squeak in which Elan tends to speak when he's nervous or upset.

‘Awww, Roy.’ Elan reaches up to put his arm around his own body’s narrow shoulders. ‘Shhh, don’t cry. Here, you can have my rapier. And if you promise to take care of him, I’ll even let you hold Banjo!’

* * *

‘Travel, travel, travel-back-to-the-village-so-we-can-all-get-put-back-in-our-proper-bodies!’

‘Aargh!’

‘OWWWWW! NOISE!’

‘Shut UP!’

‘Will you desist that infernal racket!’

‘Elan, lad,’ Durkon looks down at his team-mate kindly, ‘I know ye’re only tryin’ to help, but ye must stop that. I cannae carry a tune in an electrum-plated bucket meself, and now ye’re me, ye cannae sing either.’

Tears stand out in the brown eyes. ‘But – but Durkon, it’s what I DO! How can I be any help if I can’t sing a song to help lift our spirits during this dark or-ordeeeaalllll....’

‘And ye neednae start turnin’ on the waterworks, neither, I dinnae want to be washin’ snot outta me beard for days when we get changed back.’

The Order is now an even rattier-looking group than they appeared when they woke up this morning. Roy has insisted on swapping outfits with Durkon, although his own tunic and chain mail are now ridiculously large on him, and he’s struggling not to trip over his oversized boots. Due to inescapable Strength penalties, Durkon is now carrying Roy’s greatsword, Elan has Durkon’s hammer (he’s only dropped it on his foot twice so far), and Roy has Elan’s rapier, although he has declined the offer of Banjo the puppet. Belkar is wearing Haley’s leather armour (having been forbidden to take his clothes off by general consensus) and is carrying his own daggers, while V, lacking any other means of defending hirself, is now carrying Haley’s bow. Haley herself is stumbling along in the centre of the party with the others ranked defensively around her, Belkar’s cloak cinched about her shoulders and draped across her face in order to block out as much sound and vision as possible while still allowing her to walk. Occasional strange noises emerge from under the hood, but she appears to be settling down somewhat.

‘Hey, Hex Factor,’ Belkar leans around to Elan with Haley’s mischievous smile plastered across his face ‘if you want to make yourself useful, why don’t you take over helping Lucy in the Sky over here for a while? She keeps tripping over rocks and grass and stuff, and it’s not as much fun watching her do it when there’s no point in looking down her top.’

Elan gasps, and hurries to the middle of the group. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Haley. I was distracted, I should have been helping you from the start.’ He gently reaches under the cloak to take her hand.

Haley’s mind, even with the protection of the cloak, is a chaotic blur. She is beset by a million million unfamiliar sensations, the sun on her shoulders like melting gold the swirl of the red robes around her ankles the life in the earth rushing up through her bare elven feet and distant birdsong things in the trees, music of the leaves, stars invisible in the daytime sky and the clouds splitting and scattering overhead... But now all of this is overridden by the hand that slips into hers. She can feel the pulse and thump of his heart – Durkon’s heart, really, but even through the fog she knows it’s Elan’s too – through the hard skin of his hand, thick strong fingers wrapped around her own, she can hear his blood and internal organs, the gasp and sigh of air in his lungs, and it’s intoxicating, intoxicating. Before Elan can stop her, she reaches up and flicks the cloak off her head, forgetting all the overwhelming clamour of the outside world in the desire to look upon the face that isn’t even his own.

In the rear of the party, Durkon reaches down to nudge V gently on the shoulder. The two of them pause to take in the spectacle of their own bodies gazing adoringly into one another’s eyes, hands entwined as they walk slowly down the forest path. For one awful frozen minute, they trade looks of the purest horror, then break as one and sprint towards the front rank to begin the imperative task of distracting Belkar before he notices what’s going on.

But Belkar, it appears, has problems of his own...

To be continued!

Wow! That is just awesome! Masterwork fic with a 5 star rating!