Crack Pairings II - Brain Bleach not Supplied

[Zanaril]

...

"Settle in for the knight".

Why does every typo sound like innuendo in this thread?

It happens on other threads too!

[Silverraptor]

Oh, and Silver, interesting tale. No explaination as to why Haley is going behind Elan's back, though?

Does it really need it?

[Sgeo]

For the insane pairings thing.. It's currently possible to get a result like (Gender-switched (Elan + Durkon)). It's also an "issue" with the tables, so I'm not going to fix it.

[Taekwondodo]

I second the above posts. That little tidbit was very well-handled and sounds promising.

Here's my promised shot of the Vaarsuvius x Durkon pairing I rolled. XD

Spoiler

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Nighttime was early, Durkon could tell by glancing out the window. The warm glow of the setting sun was hidden by heavy clouds. It did not bode well for the weather, but being the resident dwarf who could never remember in which direction the port stern was, Durkon had enough wisdom to let the human sailors worry about that. Worst came to worst, he could always try his luck controlling the weather with the aid of Thor.

Content with that for the time being, the dwarf knelt back down and resumed vigourously cleaning his armour, furiously dragging the rag back and forth over the plates. It was another reason he preferred it over chainmail, crucial beard logistics notwithstanding.

Time to settle in for the night. Setting the armour by the bed in his modest cabin, Durkon strode outside and up the stairs for a breath of fresh sea air before sleep. Coming above deck, he muttered a prayer to Thor and casually glanced at where the sun had set minutes ago.

And stopped.

The elf was there, back turned towards him, shoulders tense and hands gripping the railing as he – or she, Durkon had never been quite sure – stared at the sea. The red robes were noticeably worn with lack of care and the hair was one messy purple snarl on the elf's head, the yellow headband not doing much at keeping it orderly.

Durkon frowned, shifting his weight. Considering the way the elf had denounced basic necessities such as sleep, fresh air and breaks once in a while, it was odd to see her above deck doing something that showed a conspicuous lack of anything remotely arcane.

As he edged forward, searching for a greeting that would not send the wizard slinking back into his cabin with a huff, Vaarsuvius flinched, head spinning around to face the dwarf.

“Durkon,” Vaarsuvius nodded tersely and the dwarf could not suppress a wince.

“Thor's earplugs, V, what're ye lettin' yerself come ta?!” he snorted with distress, studying the elf's features disapprovingly. The elf's silly sleepless research marathon was obviously still ongoing. Far more than just the shadows under the eyes and the showing veins, V's face was becoming a pasty grey in colour that was downright unsettling to look at.

“I'll assume that particular inquiry was rhetorical,” the elf said, glaring at the dwarf, and Durkon cursed himself for not being able to tactfully forgo comment for once. “Seeing as otherwise there is no purpose in your question when the answer is clearly before you and has prompted said question, in the first place.” The elf edged away, glaring at nothing in particular. “Durkon, if my resumed presence at this location means that I am to endure another lecture, I-”

“Naw, ne'er mind aboot tha',” Durkon shook his head with a dismissive gesture. “I meant ta say... Good ta see ye above deck fer a change. Enjoyin' tha ev'ning?”

“I was,” the elf replied drily. She shifted, uncertainty showing in her motions, but did not seem about to bolt in the direction of the cabins again, which was a good sign, as far as trying to talk some sense into her was concerned. When Durkon didn't reply, too busy mulling over that problem with a frown showing through his beard, the elf turned to look at the sky again. It then occurred to the Durkon that Vaarsuvius was not, in fact, out for a break of fresh air. The expression was anything but relaxed – on the contrary, it was tense and slightly hostile and exhausted beyond all description and as the elf scanned the skies it even seemed somehow... expectant?

The birds.

The elf was still waiting for the bloody birds. Even though it had been – what? Two, three weeks since they'd been released? It told nothing good about his research if he was now up on the deck holding out for that bit of hope. Nothing good at all.

Some of those thoughts must have shown, because Vaarsuvius glanced at him and turned away at once, face scrunching up, eyebrows knitted. The silence hung in the air, only the hum of the wind and the steady breaking of the waves disturbing it.

Durkon didn't know what to say. His cleric's training was more about healing physical wounds and the like. Convincing an irrational elf crazed with proving his own merit to go about it in a less self-destructive way was a tentative and subtle business, and way out of his field. They had seemingly been friends or at least good comrades not so long ago, but now, as the tension hung in the air, he didn't know what to say.

“Um... Nice weather, innit?” he tried nervously.
The look he received was one of a poofed-up peackock displaying stupefied disbelief. Durkon sighed. So much for tact.

“V, ye need ta listen ta me!” The uncomfortable silence shattered but the tension increased ten-fold. V shut his eyes, sighing in frustration and annoyance. He turned away, but Durkon strode closer. “This ain't healthy, how ye're buryin' yerself so complet'ly in all o' this!”

“I am open to any suggestion about how we may most efficiently progress in our mission that does not include abandoning our comrades and powerful allies in the clutches of a horrifically evil lich,” Vaarsuvius replied, not looking at him but staring at the ocean, his posture stiff. “As it stands, unless you have something useful to say for once, I would advise you to allow me to maintain my own autonomy as far as magical research is-”

“Tha's na what I'm talkin' aboot an' ye know it!” Durkon exclaimed. “Ye're losin' sight of tha mission, V! Tell me honestly – izzis really aboot savin' Roy an' Haley or izzit now aboot ye proving tha' ye can save 'em?”

Vaarsuvius' eyes flashed with hurt and anger and a flicker of a strangely haunted look somewhere as he spun around to face the dwarf, head held high and spine straightened and looming several inches above him, his twig of a body undermining the otherwise powerful impression. “Barring the unlikely scenario that you care and this is some twisted attempt at helping me achieve a greater clarity and balance, either of those two should be fine for our purposes, don't you think?” Vaarsuvius hissed, glaring down. “I succeed in locating them and can thus satisfy my apparently burning need to defeat each and every spell whose power happens to trump my own and you receive the chance to reunite with your old friend and finally resume progress in the mission. We all win,” he snapped, biting off each syllable. With another pointed glare, he spun around and headed for the stairs.

The elf stopped with a jerk, head turning in surprise in a blur of purple to see a glowering Durkon and his burly hand grasped firmly around the elf's wrist.

“Na ye don't,” Durkon grumbled even as the elf's eyes narrowed in anger at this violation of personal space, “I've been lettin' ye fend fer yerself far too long. Now listen here, ye foolish slip of an elf – I do consider ye a friend an' I do care enuff tha' I'm not gonna let ye rot away in tha' research like ye've been doin'!”

“Unless you are planning to physically restrain me from touching my books again, in which case I will be forced to resist,” Vaarsuvius glowered, glaring at Durkon's fingers still clenched around his bony wrist, “I strongly doubt there is anything you can do to improve the situation.”

“We'll see aboot tha',” Durkon snorted and started dragging the elf away. Force was not his favoured approach, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

“What- Where are you taking me?” the elf protested, indignation in every syllable. He seemed unable to make up his mind on whether or not to actually actively resist the much stronger dwarf or submit to his wishes.

“Tha kitchen,” Durkon replied. Surprise made V cease his struggling for a moment.

“The reason being?” he asked, frowning in confusion.

“Ye're too skinny.”

“...Have you lost your mind?”

Durkon snorted and tightened his grip.

To be continued...

V. promising start, more!

As for Silverraptor's story, I've always seen Haley as rather promiscuous, but Kyrie's ready acceptance of her advances feels surprising.

Waiting with baited breath for contest Dark Fiddler... (if you still decide to do one)

EDIT: Julio Scoundrel + (Gender-switched Nale)/True love
Am so writing that!

EDIT2: Hayley + Elan/ True Love - to actually roll that is quite surprising!

[Silverraptor]

Come to think of it... who has seen my first story?

[t_catt11]

Miko x Redcloak

PART ONE

Spoiler

Show

Darkness. Miko Miyazaki was in darkness. It was all she could see. She tried to move, but... there was nothing to move. She felt nothing... It was as though her consciousness was lost in a void, with no escape.

She tried to remember. She struggled to recall how she'd ended up here. The memories were few and far between. The Fall... The Gate... The Afterlife... Nothing more than faint glimpses and brief fragments...

Voices. There were voices around her. They were... familiar. Strangely familiar. Miko found herself feeling... alarmed, for some reason. But... why?

The darkness began to fade into a shadowy haze. There were... shapes, in the twilight. Figures... Talking amongst themselves, they leaned in and out of her field of vision. Slowly, the darkness gave way to blurs. And soon, the blurs gave way to faces.

Miko found herself staring into the dark, soul-less eye sockets of the vile Lich known as Xykon, the beady red orbs of evil that served as his pupils focused intently on her. "At last..." he crooned dramatically, "My Queen awakes!"

Miko screamed. And as she heard her own voice, her scream only intensified. Her voice was no longer her own. It had become... hollow. Inhuman... The horror only grew as she realized that no matter how much she screamed, she hadn't yet stopped to take a breath. Needless to say, the screaming did not stop for quite some time...

"Sir, that was totally uncalled for..." Redcloak groaned from Xykon's right, ignoring Miko's terrified shrieks and howls.

"According to you, maybe..." Xykon cheerfully shrugged.

"I wonder how long it will take her to stop screaming?" Tsukiko asked from Xykon's left.

"Who cares? Enjoy it while it lasts..." Xykon replied, basking in his handywork.

"Well, I for one wanted to get this over with as soon as possible..." Redcloak sighed. He suddenly leaned in closer to Miko, and got eye-to-eye with her. "STOP. SCREAMING." he snarled.

Miko stopped screaming. She tried to lash out with her first, but found that her arms were not responding. It seemed as though she was tightly bound, lashed against a wall or some other surface. She narrowed her eyes with the Goblin, and growled: "You... High Priest of the Dark One..." she growled, trying to ignore the unsettling sound of her own voice, "If you think, for one second, that I will allow myself to be that abominations slave, let alone Queen, you are SORELY MISTAKEN!!"

Redcloak sighed. "You've been misled. You are not Xykon's bride-to-be. Consider yourself lucky in that regard..."

"Then why am I here?" Miko growled. "How am I here?"

"You're here because we got bored!" Xykon happily quiped, pushing Redcloak out of the way and leaning in so he himself could be eye-to-eye with Miko. "And as for how..." somehow, his skull seemed to be grinning. "First, we found your body. We thought about turning you into a zombie, but... where's the fun in that?"

"The... fun?" Miko asked, confused, and with a growing sense of dread.

"Oh yes, the fun..." Xykon tilted his head from side to side. "Eventually, we just... um... Redcloak, what did we do with her, again?"

"We left her in storage room 17..." Redcloak sighed. "For three months..."

"So that's where you were hiding her!" Tsukiko whined.

"Right, anyway..." Xykon shrugged, returning his attention to Miko. "So yeah, we got bored. And guess what? You were the cure to our boredome..."

"So... You Resurrected me in order to torture me? Heh heh heh..." Miko chuckled. "Well, I'm sorry to dissappoint you, fiend, but I will give you no such enjoyment. A Paladin of the Sapphire Guard would NEVER succumb to your worst torments!"

"You're right..." Xykon shrugged. "A Paladin of the Sapphire Guard is one tough nut to crack. What was that one guy's name? You know, the beard-y dude?"

"O-Chul..." Redcloak grumbled.

"Right, whatever..." Xykon dismissed Redcloak with a wave of his hand. "Yeah, Beard-y dude never cracked. He was a real great example of what the Sapphire Guard has to offer. But... there's just one problem, in your case. You're no longer a Paladin of the Sapphire Guard..."

"The color of my cape is by no means a representation of my heart..." Miko replied coldly.

"Yeah, it goes a bit beyond you cape, sweetie..." Tsukiko grinned from over Xykon's shoulder, pulling a mirror from behind her back and offering it to Xykon.

"Yeah... As I was saying... You're no longer a Paladin of the Sapphire Guard. You're no longer even remotely good. In fact..." Xykon took the mirror, and held it up in front of Miko's face. "You're no longer even human."

Miko found herself looking at an image of a skull in the mirror. Pale, bleached, and wreathed in long, pitch-black hair, the skull grinned back at her with empty eye sockets and glowing red pupils. The horrid realization that it was her own skull was too much for Miko Miyazaki to bear, and she let loose a hideous, inhuman scream which echoed into oblivion. "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!" she howled. She attempted to lunge forward, but the bindings holding her back held strong.

"Um... Well..." Xykon tossed the mirror over his shoulder (: Isn't that 7 years bad luck?) and began to scratch at his jawbone. "The short answer is, we put all our abilities together and managed to whip you up into a Death Knight."

"HOW DARE YOU TRANSFORM ME INTO SUCH AN UNSPEAKABLE MONSTROSITY!!!!!" Miko snarled, struggling violently to get free and tear the Lich apart.

"But the long answer..." Xykon continued, folding his hands together in a business-like manner, "We've given you a second chance."

"A SECOND CHANCE AT WHAT?!" Miko snarled viciously. "MY LIFE WAS OVER!! I DIED WITH HONOR, AND NO REGRETS!! WHAT COULD YOU POSSIBLY HAVE TO OFFER ME?!"

"Revenge against the people who landed you in this position to start with..." Xykon crooned, "The Order of the Stick."

Miko stopped struggling. "What?"

"Think about it..." Xykon unfolded his hands and tapped his temples. "They did this to you, when you stop and think about it. They ruined your life. They tricked you into doing the things that eventually cost you your Paladin-hood. They robbed you of your glory. Your life. You're honor. But now, you have the chance to right those wrongs. Yes, you're a Death Knight. Yes... you're Evil now. But sometimes, Evil has a purpose in the Greater Good. Murders must be committed so that others may live. Property must be stolen or damaged so that worse consequences can be avoided. Lies must be told so that the truth itself may survive. Sometimes you have to kill cute little animals in order to feed starving children! And in your case... So what if you have to be Evil? The Order of the Stick was, is, and will be worse than anything you could ever be capable of, Paladin or Death Knight. What matters is that the Order of the Stick, the villains that they are, will be held accountable for their actions. They will be punished. They will be purged. By you, in the name of Evil, for purpose of Good. Now... How does that sound to you?"

Miko sat there, contemplating what the Lich had said. Slowly but surely, gears were turning in her head. Finally, Miko locked eyes with Xykon and gave him her answer: "Release me, that I may begin preparing for my purpose."

"That'a girl!" Xykon cheered, clapping his hands together happily. "Redcloak, Tsukiko, release her..." The two underlings came forward, and unstrapped Miko from what turned out to be an up-turned table. As the Paladin-turned-Death Knight slowly staggered forward and tried to steady her balance, Xykon sighed contently. "Her first steps... Oh, I'm so proud!"

"Don't worry..." Redcloak whispered to Miko as she wobbled back and forth, "You'll get used to it."

"Being a monster?" she muttered back at the Goblin.

"No..." Redcloak sighed, "Working with Xykon..."

PHEW!! I thought I'd never be done!



Well... What do ya'll think?

Wow, great job! This reads like top shelf fanfic... even better. It's not even a big stretch to see this as canon OOtS material.

[Lycan 01]

Come to think of it... who has seen my first story?

I have. I went back and checked the archive, and I've read it before. I thought it was funny.

And if you want to make it more horrifying, write a sequal where V and Elan get together to make their respective lovers jealous and come back to them.



Thanks, t_catt. I'm just worried that if I put too much thought into it, it will become more of a fan fic than a crack fic, and the plot will out-weigh the crack...

[ClericOfBelker]

Figure I should open with a story.
Someone rolled Julia/Roy's sword
Here we go. Didn't put much effort in, but still want critique.

Spoiler

Show

Julia stretched out on the bed in her dorm. The walls were plain, the sheets were coarse and only white by virtue of being bleached every few days, the furniture was so crude it seemed deliberate, and her roommate never shut up, but it was hers. She had earned her scholarship, she had chosen her courses. This was her life.

The day was warm, and she was wearing as little as she dared, wishing she knew more ice spells so she could cool off. More then that, she wished there was some sort of release.

She sighed, running her hand through her dark hair. She wasn’t sure she liked it. It was straight, and shiny, and all her friends liked it, but it wasn’t her. There was nothing about it that differentiated her from everyone else with dark hair. It wasn''t hers, it was just generic dark hair.

Stretching her long legs over the side of her bed, she got to her feet and padded over to the door, which she checked was securely closed, and then locked. Just in case she cast hold portal as well. Most wizards agreed it was a useless spell, but when you were a nubile young girl who half the students drooled over and liked your privacy (or rather, didn’t feel like giving anyone a free show), then it was worth the effort of learning a few safeguards.

Taking a deep breath she reached into her bag and retrieved the sword.
The sword was who she was. It was who her family was. Where they came from, and what they were. Her father may have forgotten that, but she never would.

She could barely heft it, but she held it up nonetheless, admiring it’s functional elegance, it’s raw simplicity. In it’s own way, it was prettier then any rose. Running her hand down the edge gently, she gasped as it cut through the skin, a single bright bead of blood running down the edge. A bright flush crept over her cheeks, giving her dark skin a warm look.

She clutched it closer, enjoying the cold feel of the metal against her warm, yielding flesh. “You’re not my knight." She said huskily, her green eyes wide, undoing the clasp at the back of her bra. "You’re not my saviour. You’re me. And I am you.”

Also, we are now on the second thread. Yay!

20 Cookies for you!

...still not squicky

[Zanaril]

More Inkyrius/Aarindarius. Almost.

Spoiler

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A small picture frame was lying face down on the floor amidst the debris, its wooden frame splintered and the stand snapped off. Inkyrius reached down and picked it up, then turned it over.

It was a child’s drawing, four figures portrayed in enthusiastic crayon lines, two tall, two small. The elf traced a finger over the red and purple one, careful not to get cut on the broken glass, and then slipped the drawing out of the frame, folded it, and put in a trouser pocket.

Aarindarius chose that moment to appear through the doorway to an adjacent room, a couple of cardboard boxes floating along behind him. Inkyrius placed the empty frame back on the remains of the mantelpiece. The green haired elf then closed the box full of books from the now half empty bookshelf, many of which had charred covers.

“That’s everything.” Inkyrius said, trying and failing to lift the heavy box.

“Here.” Aarindarius said, levitating it along with the others. “You’re leaving those?” He indicated the remaining books.

“They’re just spell books and such. You can have them if you want.”

Aarindarius took one and flicked through it disinterestedly, finding only a few low-level spells and research notes. But he pulled up a new box and started packing them anyway; if they were left here they’d only end up getting soaked when it rained. Kyrie turned away and walked out into the garden.

Aarindarius followed after a minute or two, stepping over a black scaled tail to reach the centre of the lawn where he dropped the boxes in a neat stack. He looked back at the gleaming scales thoughtfully. “Do you know the tanner?”

“Enarius? Yeah, why?”

“Any idea if he uses dragon hide?”

“I see where you’re going with this.” Inkyrius said. “Probably, I’ll check next time I go that way. I’ve see weirder stuff in his shop window.”

“Oh? Like what?” the wizard asked.

“Troll hide. Beholder skin.”

“...yes, that’s pretty weird.” Aarindarius admitted, then teleported both them and the boxes back to the tower.

***

A rattling sound coming from the kitchen attracted Aarindarius’ attention, and he headed towards it to investigate. Upon reaching the door he saw one of the children perched on a stool and wearing an apron that came down to its feet, happily rolling out what appeared to be cookie dough.

The little elf saw him and looked up, grinning. “Hullo Aary-dary!”

“What are you doing?” he said, eyeing the flour that dusted the elf’s orange hair and the surrounding floor.

“Making biscuits!”

“Oh? And where’s your parent?” He asked.

“My sibling ran off and parent went to get him.” The elf said happily, absentmindedly poking the biscuit dough with the rolling pin. As if on cue, Inkyrius appeared at the doorway carrying the other child, who was similarly grubby and wearing an identical apron.

“Oh, hello.”

“I see baking is a family business.” Aarindarius commented.

“It’s not just baking they like. They absolutely relish anything that gives them maximum potential to make a mess with the minimum effort.” The elf said wearily, but with a smile. Aarindarius realized it was the first time he’d seen Inkyrius smile since arriving. “Sorry about the state of the kitchen.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll clear up.” Aarindarius offered as Inkyrius put the tray of misshapen biscuits in the oven then began untying the children’s aprons.

“You would? I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s no problem, nothing a bit of magic can’t fix.”

“Thanks. I need to get these two cleaned up and off to bed.” The elf said, picking each of them up in one arm and carrying them out past the wizard. The red-headed child twisted around and waved. Aarindarius waved bemusedly back, then started tidying up.



It was several Prestidigitations later - and a bit manual scrubbing for the larger bits of dough - that Aarindarius deemed the kitchen back to its usual state. The tray of biscuits was cooling on the bench, only slightly overdone. He took one and went to find Inkyrius to see if he could lend a hand with anything else.

Upon reaching the spare bedroom, he found the elf children already tucked in to bed and presumably trancing. What he didn’t find was Inkyrius, and he stood there for a moment wondering where the baker could have gone. He continued down the corridor, and then paused again outside the study. A quiet sobbing sound was coming from behind the closed door, and he pushed it open to see the desk lamp lit. Inkyrius however, was curled up against the wall, clutching something, and tears were rolling down the baker’s face.

Aarindarius crossed the room silently to sit down on the floor next to the other elf. From here he could see that what the elf was holding was a slightly crumpled piece of paper, but whatever was on it was hidden from view. Noticing the wizard, Inkyrius re-folded the paper and placed it on the carpet, before wiping the tears away vigorously. “I’m so silly, crying like this.”

“You’re not. Not silly.”

“I don’t know how to feel anymore. I look back and I wonder if things were ever really okay, or if it just took me too long to realise I wasn’t happy.”

“You don’t have to make any decisions, not right away. Give it some time.” He said, putting an arm around Inkyrius, who leant onto his shoulder.

“Thank you for being here for me.”

Aarindarius hesitated, and then slowly, uncertainly, he lowered his head and kissed Inkyrius.

Inkyrius’ eyes widened, and the wizard realised he’d made a mistake. There was confusion in those green eyes, confusion and fear, and the baker quickly pulled away from the embrace. “Please, don’t.” Inkyrius whispered.

Aarindarius stayed where he was, frozen with indecision as Inkyrius scrambled up and ran out of the room, tears reappearing. He didn’t follow. He wanted to help, but he didn’t want to risk scaring the elf further. Stupid. Stupid! He berated himself, grabbing a handful of his hair and tugging until it hurt. It didn’t help.

The piece of paper was lying on the floor a few feet away, and he reached over for it. He unfolded it. The cheerful colours glaring out of the dim light seemed to mock him.

He rose to his feet and walked over to the desk, laying the drawing down carefully and smoothing out the creases. He was about to turn the lamp off, when something in the waste paper bin caught his eye, and he fished it out. It was a legal form, half filled in then abandoned. He returned in to the bin with a sigh. Stupid. Inkyrius had enough to deal with at the moment, without adding his clumsy advances to the list.

He turned off the light and walked out of the room.

[Malkar Grumbo]

More Inkyrius/Aarindarius. Almost.

Spoiler

Show

A small picture frame was lying face down on the floor amidst the debris, its wooden frame splintered and the stand snapped off. Inkyrius reached down and picked it up, then turned it over.

It was a child’s drawing, four figures portrayed in enthusiastic crayon lines, two tall, two small. The elf traced a finger over the red and purple one, careful not to get cut on the broken glass, and then slipped the drawing out of the frame, folded it, and put in a trouser pocket.

Aarindarius chose that moment to appear through the doorway to an adjacent room, a couple of cardboard boxes floating along behind him. Inkyrius placed the empty frame back on the remains of the mantelpiece. The green haired then elf closed the box full of books from the now half empty bookshelf, many of which had charred covers.

“That’s everything.” Inkyrius said, trying and failing to lift the heavy box.

“Here.” Aarindarius said, levitating it along with the others. “You’re leaving those?” He indicated the remaining books.

“They’re just spell books and such. You can have them if you want.”

Aarindarius took one and flicked through it disinterestedly, finding only a few low-level spells and research notes. But he pulled up a new box and started packing them anyway; if they were left here they’d only end up getting soaked when it rained. Kyrie turned away and walked out into the garden.

Aarindarius followed after a minute or two, stepping over a black scaled tail to reach the centre of the lawn where he dropped the boxes in a neat stack. He looked back at the gleaming scales thoughtfully. “Do you know the tanner?”

“Enarius? Yeah, why?”

“Any idea if he uses dragon hide?”

“I see where you’re going with this.” Inkyrius said. “Probably, I’ll check next time I go that way. I’ve see weirder stuff in his shop window.”

“Oh? Like what?” the wizard asked.

“Troll hide. Beholder skin.”

“...yes, that’s pretty weird.” Aarindarius admitted, then teleported both them and the boxes back to the tower.

***

A rattling sound coming from the kitchen attracted Aarindarius’ attention, and he headed towards it to investigate. Upon reaching the door he saw one of the children perched on a stool and wearing an apron that came down to its feet, happily rolling out what appeared to be cookie dough.

The little elf saw him and looked up, grinning. “Hullo Aary-dary!”

“What are you doing?” he said, eyeing the flour that dusted the elf’s orange hair and the surrounding floor.

“Making biscuits!”

“Oh? And where’s your parent?” He asked.

“My sibling ran off and parent went to get him.” The elf said happily, absentmindedly poking the biscuit dough with the rolling pin. As if on cue, Inkyrius appeared at the doorway carrying the other child, who was similarly grubby and wearing an identical apron.

“Oh, hello.”

“I see baking is a family business.” Aarindarius commented.

“It’s not just baking they like. They absolutely relish anything that gives them maximum potential to make a mess with the minimum effort.” The elf said wearily, but with a smile. Aarindarius realized it was the first time he’d seen Inkyrius smile since arriving. “Sorry about the state of the kitchen.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll clear up.” Aarindarius offered as Inkyrius put the tray of misshapen biscuits in the oven then began untying the children’s aprons.

“You would? I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s no problem, nothing a bit of magic can’t fix.”

“Thanks. I need to get these two cleaned up and off to bed.” The elf said, picking each of them up in one arm and carrying them out past the wizard. The red-headed child twisted around and waved. Aarindarius waved bemusedly back, then started tidying up.



It was several Prestidigitations later - and a bit manual scrubbing for the larger bits of dough - that Aarindarius deemed the kitchen back to its usual state. The tray of biscuits was cooling on the bench, only slightly overdone. He took one and went to find Inkyrius to see if he could lend a hand with anything else.

Upon reaching the spare bedroom, he found the elf children already tucked in to bed and presumably trancing. What he didn’t find was Inkyrius, and he stood there for a moment wondering where the baker could have gone. He continued down the corridor, and then paused again outside the study. A quiet sobbing sound was coming from behind the closed door, and he pushed it open to see the desk lamp lit. Inkyrius however, was curled up against the wall, clutching something, and tears were rolling down the baker’s face.

Aarindarius crossed the room silently to sit down on the floor next to the other elf. From here he could see that what the elf was holding was a slightly crumpled piece of paper, but whatever was on it was hidden from view. Noticing the wizard, Inkyrius re-folded the paper and placed it on the carpet, before wiping the tears away vigorously. “I’m so silly, crying like this.”

“You’re not. Not silly.”

“I don’t know how to feel anymore. I look back and I wonder if things were ever really okay, or if it just took me too long to realise I wasn’t happy.”

“You don’t have to make any decisions, not right away. Give it some time.” He said, putting an arm around Inkyrius, who leant onto his shoulder.

“Thank you for being here for me.”

Aarindarius hesitated, and then slowly, uncertainly, he lowered his head and kissed Inkyrius.

Inkyrius’ eyes widened, and the wizard realised he’d made a mistake. There was confusion in those green eyes, confusion and fear, and the baker quickly pulled away from the embrace. “Please, don’t.” Inkyrius whispered.

Aarindarius stayed where he was, frozen with indecision as Inkyrius scrambled up and ran out of the room, tears reappearing. He didn’t follow. He wanted to help, but he didn’t want to risk scaring the elf further. Stupid. Stupid! He berated himself, grabbing a handful of his hair and tugging until it hurt. It didn’t help.

The piece of paper was lying on the floor a few feet away, and he reached over for it. He unfolded it. The cheerful colours glaring out of the dim light seemed to mock him.

He rose to his feet and walked over to the desk, laying the drawing down carefully and smoothing out the creases. He was about to turn the lamp off, when something in the waste paper bin caught his eye, and he fished it out. It was a legal form, half filled in then abandoned. He returned in to the bin with a sigh. Stupid. Inkyrius had enough to deal with at the moment, without adding his clumsy advances to the list.

He turned off the light and walked out of the room.

Great work! I have the feeling our favorite elves will have to make some tough decisions soon. Wish my story felt like it was on the right track.

[The Dark Fiddler]

Enjoyz

I think you may want to put some close on her. Just to be safe you know. Otherwise, it looks good.

Quite. I rather enjoy the banner, but I don't want the mods ban-hammering us.

[Silverraptor]

I have. I went back and checked the archive, and I've read it before. I thought it was funny.

And if you want to make it more horrifying, write a sequal where V and Elan get together to make their respective lovers jealous and come back to them.

An excellent idea. Now how to incorporate it?

[Water-Smurf]

My God. I feel like I was just thrown in a washing machine and put under a steam roller in quick succession. Damn you, boarding school, and your homework and silly little mandatory activities! Because of you, my V/Redcloak update is late and tiny!

Anyway, does anyone mind summarizing what's happened since I was gone last? I only found the new thread and read the first page (lovely pictures by the way, Katara).

Bleh. I'm so draaaaiiiiiined...

Spoiler

Show

Redcloak woke up reluctantly, but willingly. He didn’t want to deal with everything he knew he would have to, but he knew that he had to. The story of his life.

He sat up, stretching out his back, and looked to see Vaarsuvius sitting in the corner, eyes studious and bright. “Someone slept well.”

“I do not know why.”

“You were tired.” Redcloak stretched and stood up slowly.

“It’s still early.” Vaarsuvius averted its gaze. “Are you sure it is wise to go so soon?”

A tiny smile played across Redcloak’s face. “Don’t get me wrong: Xykon is a horrible, horrible abomination. But he’s not really the type to randomly snap and break his right-hand man’s ribs often. He only did that because he’s frustrated about his phylactery. You don’t need to be worried.”

“I am not worried.” Vaarsuvius gave a small pout (Redcloak chuckled inwardly at the likely reaction the elf would have at the fact that any expression it made could possibly be classified as a pout) and averted its gaze even more.

“Sure.”

Redcloak cocked his head, contemplating the little elf in front of him. “…Food will come soon.”

“Have there been any developments with my comrades?”

Redcloak shrugged. “They’re not dead as far as I know. I’ll tell you if I hear something significant that won’t give you too much information about us, okay?”

Vaarsuvius nodded slowly, eyes thoughtful. “It is very generous of you. Thank you.”

“No rants about how I’m not acting consistently?”

“You’ve proven that you have no concern about that. Continual protest would be a waste of my energy.”

“You’ve proven that you have no concern about that.”

“Stop repeating what I say.”

Redcloak smirked. “I only do it when it’s applicable.”

Vaarsuvius frowned a little at the wall before slipping to the floor, standing on wobbly knees.

“Vaarsuvius, you’re going to fall again.”

“I think that my legs are getting stronger, and I wish to evaluate something.” Vaarsuvius pursed its lips. “Yes, I think I will be able to walk on my own soon.”

“Great. So I won’t have to catch you again?”

Vaarsuvius blushed, turning its face away in a vain attempt to hide the new coloration. “You didn’t have to in the first place.”

Redcloak rolled his eye. “Whatever you say, Vaarsuvius. Just don’t fall and get hurt while I’m not around to pick you up.”

The elf was still blushing. “I can pick myself up.”

“I know. It’s easier on you if you have help.” Redcloak took some cherries out of a pouch at his hip and popped them in his mouth. “I’ll be back tonight.” With that, he was gone.

---

Redcloak stood out on the tower, staring up at the Snarl, frowning and getting just a little nervous at the presence of the deicidal abomination. He was feeling increasingly restless, a feeling he knew that Xykon shared, but he wasn’t comforted at all by the prospect of a bored, impatient lich. Xykon was happy as long as he was amused and he felt safe. Being an epic-level sorcerer lich, those conditions were usually easily met.

But missing his phylactery had obliterated all sense of security, and that made for a very angry Xykon. That in general was a bad thing, so Redcloak had to concentrate on finding his holy symbol before Xykon completely lost it and lashed out at anyone and everyone that could possibly be blamed for this situation.

Something flickered in his heart. He wanted to go back to the stone door with the gold ring. He wanted to be back with Vaarsuvius, probably the only person there besides perhaps Jirix who he could actually enjoy the company of. The elf was proud and rebellious, but in an admirable way. Despite himself, Redcloak had grown to… respect it? Car—

No. Not anything down that road. Just respect. It was more than easy to respect someone who shook Xykon’s foundations so completely and pile so much defiance on top of it in an obviously hopeless situation, no matter what trouble it caused himself.

The scientist in him shoved the memory of the three kisses into his mind, loudly proclaiming that that certainly wasn’t a mark of mere respect. The person inside of him hid the memories and made sure that the scientist was firmly bound and gagged in a dark corner so he couldn’t bring up anymore uncomfortable truths.

“So you finally got back from the elf’s room? Did you sleep with her or torture her? Or both?”

Redcloak almost jumped in surprise, spinning around to scowl at a smirking Tsukiko. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“All the slaves are settled down. They thought they could rebel. How cute.” Tsukiko grinned, crossing her arms and sauntering up to Redcloak, a spring to her step. “So you really do like us mammals more than you say. How does it feel to do it with someone who is actually warm and squishy for once in your life?”

Redcloak gave a small sneer, shaking his head. “You’re disgusting. I should have only expected it.” He turned around, walking to the edge of the tower and looking from the Snarl to down at the foot of the damaged castle. “I’m busy trying to think of our next strategy. It would help if you left.”

“Strategy is no fun. Talking about your sex life with the prisoner is.”

“It’s a pretty one-sided conversation, Tsukiko.” Redcloak closed his eye, pressing his palms together and trying to concentrate despite the nuisance next to him.

“Is she a screamer?” Tsukiko purred softly, smirking. “The formal ones usually are. Or maybe that uptight wizard thing extends to the bedroom and she’s just really, really quiet.”

Redcloak gave a small sigh. “If you won’t leave, I will.” He contemplated trying to deny that he was sleeping with Vaarsuvius, but he figured that that would only prove his guilt in Tsukiko’s eyes. The woman had a very warped sense of logic.

He started towards the door.

Tsukiko grinned and cupped her hands around her mouth so he could hear her better. “You don’t seem like the type to sleep around! Are you in love with her? ‘Cuz if you are, I’m never going to let you forget it!”

“I’m sorry, when did you graduate fifth grade? Last week?”

“It’s a classic!” Tsukiko started to jog after him, her grin widening, and they started down the stairs. “Hey, Reddy, as a special favor, when Xykon eventually gets you to soak her for information and kill her off, I’ll make a special zombie spell for you! You can do her all you want and you won’t have to hear that annoying stuck-up voice of hers.”

Redcloak tensed, his step faltering.

“I can even make her warm or cold, how you like. You seem to be more into cold girls—reptile thing, I guess—but you might’ve developed a liking for the finer temperatures of bodies.” Tsukiko frowned thoughtfully. “We’d have to change her clothes, probably. Let her show off what she’s got. I can barely tell what sex she is under those robes.”

Redcloak felt his muscles tighten and his claws sharpen against his scales, readying to slash Tsukiko right across her face. The idea of the prideful, defiant, fiery, alive Vaarsuvius being turned cold, silent, a glorified sex toy in clothes normally reserved for street-walking whores. Losing the warmth that made it so valuable. Losing the pride and rebellious attitude that made it beautiful. Losing the ability to speak all of its thoughts, to be honest with Redcloak about how exactly it thinks about him and what he does… losing what made Vaarsuvius Vaarsuvius…

“Hey, are you going to respond or am I going to have to go into even more detail about the things I can do for your zombie?”

Redcloak kept his temper carefully in check.

“You’re a very, very sick woman. Go and make sure the slaves are in their proper jobs.”

Tsukiko stiffened slightly, frowning. “Do I hear an edge to your voice?” A smirk grew, her mismatched eyes practically glowing. “Oh Gods, you really do love her!”

Redcloak glanced back at her, frowning. “That’s the problem with you and Xykon. You’re both too lazy to actually investigate things, so you just go with your first assumptions. Go and watch the slaves before they decide that they want to rebel again.”

“Whatever you say, Romeo.” Tsukiko gave a cackling laugh, making her sound more like a fairytale witch than anything else, and sat on the stone railing, sliding down.

“Who’s Romeo?”

“Read up on old human plays!” Tsukiko gave another cackling laugh. “It’s a great one, Reddy! Romeo and Juliet! It’ll give you good insight on how this story will end.” With that, she had slid down too many revolutions to be heard.

Redcloak rubbed his face, hoping that Vaarsuvius hadn’t heard anything through its door, and started walking down the steps, seeking out Jirix for more information.

---

The ground was hot and the air stank of gun powder and sulfur. The ruined human houses stuck up towards the sky like the jagged teeth of a giant. Smoke and the ever-present purple glow of the Snarl obscured the sun and light, making it feel light twilight. The sound of hobgoblin armies beat through the streets, giving the dead city a heartbeat to replace the one it lost in that one valiant struggle.

“Haley, you’re going to have to stop pacing at some point.” Roy looked up at the darkening sky. “Night’s going to come soon.”

Haley ran a hand through her boyish hair, scowling at Roy while the rest of their party worked on prying open a semi-intact old inn for shelter (“No, Belkar, yer goin’ ta slice yerself up if ye let Elan throw ye through th’ window!”)

“V’s been missing for… how long have we been gone?”

“Long enough.” Roy sighed, frowning and crossing his arms. “Look, Haley, I’m worried too. Vaarsuvius is my friend as well as part of my party. I don’t want him hurt anymore than you do. Pacing won’t help.”

“Apparently, neither will actually looking for him!”

“I don’t know what they did. They cast a spell or something.”

“That’d be easy to fix with a spell caster.”

“I know, Haley.” Roy looked at her hard for a minute. “Go and scout for a bit. Burn off the restless energy. Make sure you’re back here soon.”

Haley and Roy stared at each other for a moment, and slowly, she relaxed. “Thanks, Roy.” She turned, checking to make sure that she still had her bow and her new knife handy, and jogged off into the streets.

[Malkar Grumbo]

My God. I feel like I was just thrown in a washing machine and put under a steam roller in quick succession. Damn you, boarding school, and your homework and silly little mandatory activities! Because of you, my V/Redcloak update is late and tiny!

Anyway, does anyone mind summarizing what's happened since I was gone last? I only found the new thread and read the first page (lovely pictures by the way, Katara).

Bleh. I'm so draaaaiiiiiined...

Spoiler

Show

Redcloak woke up reluctantly, but willingly. He didn’t want to deal with everything he knew he would have to, but he knew that he had to. The story of his life.

He sat up, stretching out his back, and looked to see Vaarsuvius sitting in the corner, eyes studious and bright. “Someone slept well.”

“I do not know why.”

“You were tired.” Redcloak stretched and stood up slowly.

“It’s still early.” Vaarsuvius averted its gaze. “Are you sure it is wise to go so soon?”

A tiny smile played across Redcloak’s face. “Don’t get me wrong: Xykon is a horrible, horrible abomination. But he’s not really the type to randomly snap and break his right-hand man’s ribs often. He only did that because he’s frustrated about his phylactery. You don’t need to be worried.”

“I am not worried.” Vaarsuvius gave a small pout (Redcloak chuckled inwardly at the likely reaction the elf would have at the fact that any expression it made could possibly be classified as a pout) and averted its gaze even more.

“Sure.”

Redcloak cocked his head, contemplating the little elf in front of him. “…Food will come soon.”

“Have there been any developments with my comrades?”

Redcloak shrugged. “They’re not dead as far as I know. I’ll tell you if I hear something significant that won’t give you too much information about us, okay?”

Vaarsuvius nodded slowly, eyes thoughtful. “It is very generous of you. Thank you.”

“No rants about how I’m not acting consistently?”

“You’ve proven that you have no concern about that. Continual protest would be a waste of my energy.”

“You’ve proven that you have no concern about that.”

“Stop repeating what I say.”

Redcloak smirked. “I only do it when it’s applicable.”

Vaarsuvius frowned a little at the wall before slipping to the floor, standing on wobbly knees.

“Vaarsuvius, you’re going to fall again.”

“I think that my legs are getting stronger, and I wish to evaluate something.” Vaarsuvius pursed its lips. “Yes, I think I will be able to walk on my own soon.”

“Great. So I won’t have to catch you again?”

Vaarsuvius blushed, turning its face away in a vain attempt to hide the new coloration. “You didn’t have to in the first place.”

Redcloak rolled his eye. “Whatever you say, Vaarsuvius. Just don’t fall and get hurt while I’m not around to pick you up.”

The elf was still blushing. “I can pick myself up.”

“I know. It’s easier on you if you have help.” Redcloak took some cherries out of a pouch at his hip and popped them in his mouth. “I’ll be back tonight.” With that, he was gone.

---

Redcloak stood out on the tower, staring up at the Snarl, frowning and getting just a little nervous at the presence of the deicidal abomination. He was feeling increasingly restless, a feeling he knew that Xykon shared, but he wasn’t comforted at all by the prospect of a bored, impatient lich. Xykon was happy as long as he was amused and he felt safe. Being an epic-level sorcerer lich, those conditions were usually easily met.

But missing his phylactery had obliterated all sense of security, and that made for a very angry Xykon. That in general was a bad thing, so Redcloak had to concentrate on finding his holy symbol before Xykon completely lost it and lashed out at anyone and everyone that could possibly be blamed for this situation.

Something flickered in his heart. He wanted to go back to the stone door with the gold ring. He wanted to be back with Vaarsuvius, probably the only person there besides perhaps Jirix who he could actually enjoy the company of. The elf was proud and rebellious, but in an admirable way. Despite himself, Redcloak had grown to… respect it? Car—

No. Not anything down that road. Just respect. It was more than easy to respect someone who shook Xykon’s foundations so completely and pile so much defiance on top of it in an obviously hopeless situation, no matter what trouble it caused himself.

The scientist in him shoved the memory of the three kisses into his mind, loudly proclaiming that that certainly wasn’t a mark of mere respect. The person inside of him hid the memories and made sure that the scientist was firmly bound and gagged in a dark corner so he couldn’t bring up anymore uncomfortable truths.

“So you finally got back from the elf’s room? Did you sleep with her or torture her? Or both?”

Redcloak almost jumped in surprise, spinning around to scowl at a smirking Tsukiko. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“All the slaves are settled down. They thought they could rebel. How cute.” Tsukiko grinned, crossing her arms and sauntering up to Redcloak, a spring to her step. “So you really do like us mammals more than you say. How does it feel to do it with someone who is actually warm and squishy for once in your life?”

Redcloak gave a small sneer, shaking his head. “You’re disgusting. I should have only expected it.” He turned around, walking to the edge of the tower and looking from the Snarl to down at the foot of the damaged castle. “I’m busy trying to think of our next strategy. It would help if you left.”

“Strategy is no fun. Talking about your sex life with the prisoner is.”

“It’s a pretty one-sided conversation, Tsukiko.” Redcloak closed his eye, pressing his palms together and trying to concentrate despite the nuisance next to him.

“Is she a screamer?” Tsukiko purred softly, smirking. “The formal ones usually are. Or maybe that uptight wizard thing extends to the bedroom and she’s just really, really quiet.”

Redcloak gave a small sigh. “If you won’t leave, I will.” He contemplated trying to deny that he was sleeping with Vaarsuvius, but he figured that that would only prove his guilt in Tsukiko’s eyes. The woman had a very warped sense of logic.

He started towards the door.

Tsukiko grinned and cupped her hands around her mouth so he could hear her better. “You don’t seem like the type to sleep around! Are you in love with her? ‘Cuz if you are, I’m never going to let you forget it!”

“I’m sorry, when did you graduate fifth grade? Last week?”

“It’s a classic!” Tsukiko started to jog after him, her grin widening, and they started down the stairs. “Hey, Reddy, as a special favor, when Xykon eventually gets you to soak her for information and kill her off, I’ll make a special zombie spell for you! You can do her all you want and you won’t have to hear that annoying stuck-up voice of hers.”

Redcloak tensed, his step faltering.

“I can even make her warm or cold, how you like. You seem to be more into cold girls—reptile thing, I guess—but you might’ve developed a liking for the finer temperatures of bodies.” Tsukiko frowned thoughtfully. “We’d have to change her clothes, probably. Let her show off what she’s got. I can barely tell what sex she is under those robes.”

Redcloak felt his muscles tighten and his claws sharpen against his scales, readying to slash Tsukiko right across her face. The idea of the prideful, defiant, fiery, alive Vaarsuvius being turned cold, silent, a glorified sex toy in clothes normally reserved for street-walking whores. Losing the warmth that made it so valuable. Losing the pride and rebellious attitude that made it beautiful. Losing the ability to speak all of its thoughts, to be honest with Redcloak about how exactly it thinks about him and what he does… losing what made Vaarsuvius Vaarsuvius…

“Hey, are you going to respond or am I going to have to go into even more detail about the things I can do for your zombie?”

Redcloak kept his temper carefully in check.

“You’re a very, very sick woman. Go and make sure the slaves are in their proper jobs.”

Tsukiko stiffened slightly, frowning. “Do I hear an edge to your voice?” A smirk grew, her mismatched eyes practically glowing. “Oh Gods, you really do love her!”

Redcloak glanced back at her, frowning. “That’s the problem with you and Xykon. You’re both too lazy to actually investigate things, so you just go with your first assumptions. Go and watch the slaves before they decide that they want to rebel again.”

“Whatever you say, Romeo.” Tsukiko gave a cackling laugh, making her sound more like a fairytale witch than anything else, and sat on the stone railing, sliding down.

“Who’s Romeo?”

“Read up on old human plays!” Tsukiko gave another cackling laugh. “It’s a great one, Reddy! Romeo and Juliet! It’ll give you good insight on how this story will end.” With that, she had slid down too many revolutions to be heard.

Redcloak rubbed his face, hoping that Vaarsuvius hadn’t heard anything through its door, and started walking down the steps, seeking out Jirix for more information.

---

The ground was hot and the air stank of gun powder and sulfur. The ruined human houses stuck up towards the sky like the jagged teeth of a giant. Smoke and the ever-present purple glow of the Snarl obscured the sun and light, making it feel light twilight. The sound of hobgoblin armies beat through the streets, giving the dead city a heartbeat to replace the one it lost in that one valiant struggle.

“Haley, you’re going to have to stop pacing at some point.” Roy looked up at the darkening sky. “Night’s going to come soon.”

Haley ran a hand through her boyish hair, scowling at Roy while the rest of their party worked on prying open a semi-intact old inn for shelter (“No, Belkar, yer goin’ ta slice yerself up if ye let Elan throw ye through th’ window!”)

“V’s been missing for… how long have we been gone?”

“Long enough.” Roy sighed, frowning and crossing his arms. “Look, Haley, I’m worried too. Vaarsuvius is my friend as well as part of my party. I don’t want him hurt anymore than you do. Pacing won’t help.”

“Apparently, neither will actually looking for him!”

“I don’t know what they did. They cast a spell or something.”

“That’d be easy to fix with a spell caster.”

“I know, Haley.” Roy looked at her hard for a minute. “Go and scout for a bit. Burn off the restless energy. Make sure you’re back here soon.”

Haley and Roy stared at each other for a moment, and slowly, she relaxed. “Thanks, Roy.” She turned, checking to make sure that she still had her bow and her new knife handy, and jogged off into the streets.

Good chapter! I enjoyed it.

[esmerelder]

*comes late to the party*

Zanaril, WaterSmurf, I just wanted to say that I love your stories so much! Kaytara, your stories and also your art are amazing too - it's the combination of utter crackiness and being so perfectly in character that makes it work, I think.

Your wonderful stuff inspired me to write this today - on reflection, I'm not at all sure it's cracky enough to be part of this thread, but I had lots of fun writing it.

Spoiler

Show

Roy pricked up his ears and then took off at a run through the tent city, the sand still glowing warm under his boots. He could hear the crying coming from somewhere just up ahead -- was there a child in trouble? Had the thieves he'd seen operating earlier in the day given up their pick-pocketing and attacked some innocent? Or even worse -- oh no, what if Belkar been messing with Elan's puppet collection again?

He skidded around a corner, down a blind avenue and, locating the source of the noise, stuck his head through the gap between the flaps of what he recognised as one of the Order's own tents.

And froze.

In the course of months of scrying on his former companions, he'd seen many things he had never expected, and a few he'd never have wanted, to see -- Haley's underwear-washing habits, Elan's nightly ritual of rock-star poses in the mirror, and Belkar's habit of singing endearing little songs to Mr Scruffy when he thought no-one else was listening were just a few of the more disturbing ones -- but he'd never seen anything like this.

Vaarsuvius hadn't cried for Roy when he'd died on the battlefield, nor even for Haley when she had been thought lost to Xykon's evil clutches. V had been beaten pretty badly by Miko too, humiliated and gagged and hauled across the landscape along with the rest of the Order, and hadn't so much as whimpered then. But the elf was crying now, thin pale hands clasped over the dirty face and long, dark-violet hair tumbling loose around hunched shoulders, rocking back and forth out of time with the deep, hacking sobs.

'Um. V. You alright?'.

The elf didn't look up.

'Leave me!'.

Roy clambered the rest of the way through the tent flap, sealing it carefully behind him. 'Nothing doing.' He plonked himself down on the cushions his team-mate had ignored for the bare tent floor. 'V, that's the fewest amount of words I've ever heard you use to express a simple concept. I figure something's got to be seriously wrong.'

The hands came down, revealing red-rimmed eyes with pale-pink irises and a pinched, dirty face. The elf reached into a pocket and removed a scroll, placing it wordlessly before him. Roy unrolled it and read:

Drawmij's Instant Summons

On the grounds of abandonment and probable alignment shift, the elf Inkyrius of Ivyleaf does hereby petition to dissolve all matrimonial bonds with the elf Vaarsuvius, and to sue for full custody of their two children...

Eek. 'V. I'm - gah. Who sent you this? This is your, um, your wi- your, er, mate, right?'

No answer.

'I'm so sorry, V. Do you want to tell me what happened?'

The elf sat up, regarding him somewhat unsteadily. 'Thank you, Sir Greenhilt, but I do not wish to discuss it at this time. I saw Inkyrius briefly while I had access to a significant power source, immediately before your resurrection. My mate was apparently not pleased with my decision to rejoin our company in order to try to prevent the -- unravelling of the --- .'

The rest of the sentence was lost in a long, ascending wail that appeared to involve the phrases 'dragon and shewasgonnahurttheCHIIIIIL...', a long string of extremely bad words in High Elvish, and something that sounded like 'fieeeeeeeeends'.

Well, this was awkward. Not knowing what else to do, Roy placed a hand on the elf's shoulder, half-expecting a stinging rebuff. When none came, he slid his arm around to pull Vaarsuvius into a hug. Tiny bird bones -- he'd known V was small, of course, but he hadn't expected the elf to feel quite so light, so fragile. During the the semi-regular 'Is-V-or-isn't-V?' arguments that descended upon the Order in times of extreme boredom, Roy had always been a staunch supporter of Team Masculine (along with Elan, while Durkon tended to flip-flop -- Belkar, for some reason, had rabidly insisted that the elf was female ever since Azure City, and Haley had always simply smirked and announced that she wasn't about to tell the others where her friend kept his or her Crystal Orbs). But just now, he could see the other side of the argument too, dwelling on the delicacy of the elf's tiny wrists, the wet, clinging length of the lashes around the painful-looking eyes as he pulled the elf closer and waited for V to breathe again.

'Gods, you're a skinny bit, V' -- the words tumbled out idly, almost unbidden -- 'I feel like I could snap you in half, you know.'

He was rewarded with a slightly soggy pink glare. 'I may point out that my current physical condition -- sniff -- somewhat deleterious as it may be, is nonetheless an improvement on your own until extremely recently, Sir Greenhilt.'

Roy grinned. 'OK, you got me there'. Discreetly, he fished a blue silk handkerchief - a gift from Hinjo that last New Year in Azure City - out of his tunic and passed it to the elf, waiting until the ragged breathing grew somewhat more steady under his arm.

'Divorce papers. That's rough, V, that's really rough.' He tightened his arm, squeezing V closer, and the elf did not pull away. 'But you know the team is here for you, whenever you want us'.

Eyes cast down to the tent floor, a long, half-ragged breath. 'I had observed this. I thank you.' Eyes flickered up to Roy, a small smile. 'Indeed, particularly in the case of the bard and the halfling, I find that the team is frequently present when I do not wish it, also.'

'Admit it, V - you'd miss them if they weren't there'.

'Indeed - upon whom else could I practice my now-redoubtable skills at crafting Exploding Runes?'

Roy accepted his handkerchief back, slightly crumpled and more than a little besmirched with High Elven snot. 'We're all back together again now, and we're going to do what we have to do and get through this. You may have lost one family, V, but --' he felt himself blushing furiously. 'Aww, it sounds stupid, and for the love of all that is holy don't ever repeat this to Belkar, but you've got another one right here.'

V pulled away from Roy's hug and turned to face him, still kneeling on the floor. The elf placed both delicate hands in his and looked up at him, an oddly formal pose. 'Again, you have my thanks, Sir Greenhilt'. The eyes went down again, once more closely examining the floor. 'And I must apologise for this most embarassing display of excessive emotion.'

'Vaarsuvius,' Roy smiled. 'I do have a teenage sister, you know. I know about over-blown hysterics --' he reached out a hand and gently forced V's chin up until the elf met his eyes once more 'and trust me, this wasn't it.'

Without really meaning to, without ever really knowing what he was doing, Roy leaned slowly forward and kissed the elf gently on the forehead, where the gold circlet no longer lay these days. The elf's thick coarse hair smelled of sunshine and dry heat, and something else, something not quite human, and then V's arms were around him, fine and spiky and clinging-desperate and the bones in the tiny shoulders ground together under Roy's hands.

When Belkar came barrelling through the tent flap in search of his tin opener to serve Mr Scruffy's dinner, several hours later, Roy and Vaarsuvius were sitting fully dressed, quietly consulting a map of the desert they were soon to cross and discussing military tactics. He considered asking why Roy had a rune-trimmed cloak slung about his shoulders and V appeared to be wearing a chain-mail tunic, but decided that there were some things halflings were not meant to know.

*edited for too many uses of the word 'amazing'!*

[ClericOfBelker]

Recipe For Crack-Mega-Pairing Potion

-Nameless
-Minion
-Silver Raptor
-Zanaril
-Lycan 01
-Discord
-The Dark Fiddler
-Sabine
-Cleric of Belkar
-Julia Greenhilt
-Miko
-Plot Device/s:Love Potion x3
-Something not PG enough to mention on the last Thread

Prize:111,111,111x111,111,111 Cookies and Internets!

[Silverraptor]

Recipe For Crack-Mega-Pairing Potion

-Silver Raptor
-Zanaril
-Discord
-The Dark Fiddler
-Sabine
-Cleric of Belkar
-Julia Greenhilt
-Miko
-Plot Device/s:Love Potion x3
-Something not PG enough to mention on the last Thread!
-Zanaril


Prize:111,111,111x111,111,111 Cookies and Internets!

Does this mean we have to work together or that we have to be apart of it? And where are you getting all these cookies anyways?

[The Dark Fiddler]

Recipe For Crack-Mega-Pairing Potion

-Silver Raptor
-Zanaril
-Discord
-The Dark Fiddler
-Sabine
-Cleric of Belkar
-Julia Greenhilt
-Miko
-Plot Device/s:Love Potion x3
-Something not PG enough to mention on the last Thread!

I believe that should go in the Member Shipping Thread.

It can be found in the Arts and Crafts section.

Also, damn you. Now I want to put myself in one of the crack!fics. Can anyone say TheDarkFiddlerxRoy's SwordxDragon's Hoard?

[ClericOfBelker]

Does this mean we have to work together or that we have to be apart of it? And where are you getting all these cookies anyways?

Question 1. Both
Question 2. Cookie land...From Belkar-DON'T TELL HIM!!!!!

[ClericOfBelker]

I believe that should go in the Member Shipping Thread.

Ok ! Come-On everybody!

*Runs to Member Shipping Thread*

...sorry for the Double Post!

http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showt...83#post6942783

[Silverraptor]

I've got a baaaaaaaad feeling about this. Post up a link...

[Lycan 01]

@ Zanaril: Before I read your story, I have to ask... Who's Aarindarius?


@ Silverraptor: Simple. Either Elan stumbles upon them while looking for the bathroom, or Celia decides to go find K... A big fuss is made, and Elan and V realize that they're lost their respective lovers to... each other's respective lovers. And thus begins a crack-tastic tale of forlorn love and treachery-wrough jealousy...


@ Water-Smurf: I made Miko into a Death Knight.

I'll read your story after I read the first ones. I didn't know you had a series... Truth be told, I don't know how many series there actually are.


@ esmerelder: THAT STORY ROCKED!! Seriously, I thoroughly enjoyed reading it, from start to finish. It was so... good. Well written, in character, believable, cute-sy... and then the last paragraph caught me off guard. Oh boy, did that have me laughing... Good job!



@ ClericofBelkar: Should I be happy or insulted that I'm not on the list?

[Silverraptor]

@ Silverraptor: Simple. Either Elan stumbles upon them while looking for the bathroom, or Celia decides to go find K... A big fuss is made, and Elan and V realize that they're lost their respective lovers to... each other's respective lovers. And thus begins a crack-tastic tale of forlorn love and treachery-wrough jealousy...

It was a retorical question.

[Meg]

Really, really good, as usual! Do I detect a hint of a possible HaleyXRoy subplot?

[ClericOfBelker]

I've got a baaaaaaaad feeling about this. Post up a link...

I don't know how to !

[The Dark Fiddler]

Who's Aarindarius?

V's mentor, if I remember correctly.

[ClericOfBelker]

V's mentor, if I remember correctly.

Yep !

[Lycan 01]

@ Silverraptor: I figured as much, but I wasn't sure.


@ The Dark Fiddler: And they came into the series... when? I honestly don't know anything about them.


@ ClericofBelkar: Copy and paste the URL you want to use into your post, and wrap the [ URL]...[/URL] tags around it.

[ClericOfBelker]

@ Silverraptor: I figured as much, but I wasn't sure.


@ The Dark Fiddler: And they came into the series... when? I honestly don't know anything about them.


@ ClericofBelkar: Copy and paste the URL you want to use into your post, and wrap the [ URL]...[/URL] tags around it.

Thanks!


*-5 Cookies*

*Lycan 01 Gained 5 Cookies!*

[The Dark Fiddler]

@ The Dark Fiddler: And they came into the series... when? I honestly don't know anything about them.

I think the only time his mentor was mentioned/shown in the online strips was when he was contemplating how to stop the ABD. V considered sending Qaar with a message to his mentor. Because I don't own the books, I can't speak for print-exclusive.