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  1. - Top - End - #1081
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Zanaril's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Quote Originally Posted by xelliea View Post
    I look forward to the next comic.
    So do I! It's the next best thing to more chapters!
    This post may contain sarcasm.
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  2. - Top - End - #1082
    Halfling in the Playground
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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Dont expect the next parts too soon, inkscape seems to be running a bit weirdly at the moment for me, and deleted my V sheet half way through...

    Horray for sufficiantly advanced magic...
    Live each day of your life like the man that has never seen a yurt.

    ~Proverb

  3. - Top - End - #1083
    Pixie in the Playground
     
    NinjaGuy

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    I'm back, and this time I got Mr. Rodriguez x Windstriker , I hate to say this but I don't think I'm brave enough to touch that, can someone even more twisted try their hand?
    Edit: I forgot to roll on a situation, feel free to add that yourself.
    Wow, I expected at least 3 fics of that pairing from you guys, maybe the idea is just too creepy, truly the dice be a cruel mistress.
    __________________________________________________ ______________
    I GOT A FOUR!
    Last edited by WhereamI?; 2009-09-04 at 03:24 PM.

  4. - Top - End - #1084
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Cracklord's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Quote Originally Posted by WhereamI? View Post
    Wow, I expected at least 3 fics of that pairing from you guys, maybe the idea is just too creepy, truly the dice be a cruel mistress.
    We all got our own projects.
    Nadir We,
    Youth Born,
    Blood Letters,
    Axe Weilders,
    Victors Still.

  5. - Top - End - #1085
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Weimann's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    On the new comic, I'm feeling an awful lot like writing something where Elan has troubles keeping his pants on.

    I might or might not. Don't hold your breath :P
    Last edited by Weimann; 2009-09-04 at 05:15 PM.
    Quoth the raven, "Polly wants a cracker."

    Pony avatar by the Great and Powerful DirtyTabs. Lotsa hugs!

    Scourge Caste avatar by the illustrious Akrim.elf. Thank you!

  6. - Top - End - #1086
    Pixie in the Playground
     
    NinjaGuy

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    People actually have plans here? I thought we all just did random stuff based on our strangest whims.

  7. - Top - End - #1087
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Zanaril's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Quote Originally Posted by WhereamI? View Post
    People actually have plans here? I thought we all just did random stuff based on our strangest whims.
    Only for short bits. Anything over 3000 words and you tend to have a basic plot in mind.

    And even if you dont, by the time you've finished writing you'll have thought of something else you want to add.
    This post may contain sarcasm.
    DeviantArt

  8. - Top - End - #1088

    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Quote Originally Posted by WhereamI? View Post
    People actually have plans here? I thought we all just did random stuff based on our strangest whims.
    It's a little o' column A, a little o' column B.
    It's been a bit, GitP. If you're reading this, you're either digging through old stuff, or I've posted for the first time in forever.

    If you want to stay in touch, reach out to me on twitter (same username).

    The best answer is always to ask your DM.
    Unless you're the DM, in which case you should talk to your players.

  9. - Top - End - #1089
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    Thor Person Guy's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    It's mostly based on the whims of dice.
    Avatar by Zanaril

    ...I feel ignored.

  10. - Top - End - #1090
    Halfling in the Playground
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    smile Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Live each day of your life like the man that has never seen a yurt.

    ~Proverb

  11. - Top - End - #1091
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Zanaril's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Quote Originally Posted by Funky Goose View Post
    *Enjoys!*

    V's hair looks a little odd though . Since you're going to be using the same shape all the time for the hair, it may be worth tweaking it a bit. I think maybe it needs to cover more of V's head.
    This post may contain sarcasm.
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  12. - Top - End - #1092
    Pixie in the Playground
     
    NecromancerGuy

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    Question Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Xykon's zombie dragon headxfemale Ancient Black DragonxThe dragon's hoardxFemale dragon's hoard

  13. - Top - End - #1093
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Zanaril's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Quote Originally Posted by Alchemist Kren View Post
    Xykon's zombie dragon headxfemale Ancient Black DragonxThe dragon's hoardxFemale dragon's hoard
    ...Isn't the dragon's hoard the same hoard as the ABD's hoard?
    This post may contain sarcasm.
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  14. - Top - End - #1094
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    RedWizardGuy

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Quote Originally Posted by Funky Goose View Post
    I am not worthy! This and the first one are great, please keep them coming.
    I Am A: Chaotic Good Human Sorcerer (3rd Level)
    Ability Scores:
    Strength- 9
    Dexterity- 11
    Constitution- 11
    Intelligence- 12
    Wisdom- 11
    Charisma- 11

  15. - Top - End - #1095
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    RedWizardGuy

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Quote Originally Posted by WhereamI? View Post
    People actually have plans here? I thought we all just did random stuff based on our strangest whims.
    I don't know about the others, but mine are, being Chaotic and all.
    I Am A: Chaotic Good Human Sorcerer (3rd Level)
    Ability Scores:
    Strength- 9
    Dexterity- 11
    Constitution- 11
    Intelligence- 12
    Wisdom- 11
    Charisma- 11

  16. - Top - End - #1096
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    Thor Person Guy's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Quote Originally Posted by Zanaril View Post
    ...Isn't the dragon's hoard the same hoard as the ABD's hoard?
    No, I think it means the horde is gender-flipped.
    Avatar by Zanaril

    ...I feel ignored.

  17. - Top - End - #1097
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Zanaril's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Quote Originally Posted by Thor Person Guy View Post
    No, I think it means the horde is gender-flipped.
    ...
    what the
    This post may contain sarcasm.
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  18. - Top - End - #1098

    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Quote Originally Posted by Zanaril View Post
    ...
    what the
    Are you sure you don't mean "what is this I don't even..."

    Gender flipping is something to be taken with a bit of logic.
    It's been a bit, GitP. If you're reading this, you're either digging through old stuff, or I've posted for the first time in forever.

    If you want to stay in touch, reach out to me on twitter (same username).

    The best answer is always to ask your DM.
    Unless you're the DM, in which case you should talk to your players.

  19. - Top - End - #1099
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Zanaril's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Quote Originally Posted by The Dark Fiddler View Post
    Are you sure you don't mean "what is this I don't even..."

    Gender flipping is something to be taken with a bit of logic.
    But at least Xykon's zombie dragon headxfemale Ancient Black DragonxThe dragon's hoardxFemale dragon's hoard is actually plausable.
    This post may contain sarcasm.
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  20. - Top - End - #1100
    Ettin in the Playground
     
    The Succubus's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Oh please. Everyone was cool with Miko getting it on with MiTD but as soon as a male dragon's hoard and female dragon's hoard want to indulge in whatever passes for intimacy amongst lumps of gold, they freak out....

  21. - Top - End - #1101
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    Water-Smurf's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    A comic? Really?

    You've made my week.

    Jeeze. Well, I finished the next chapter and I'm not sure how happy I am about the quality, so if you have any critique to offer, that would be very appreciated.

    Spoiler
    Show
    Redcloak had almost been scared to go back to the elf’s room. That brief moment of desire, of outright lust, had left him fearful and unsure. The person inside of him insisted that he had only imagined it. He was a goblin and a self-proclaimed species-ist, and had never and never would be attracted to anything but a goblin female. The scientist inside of him just shook his dispassionate head and reminded him that no person was purely one thing (except for maybe Xykon—he was pure evil) and that, seeing as he had felt such lust many times before and had acted on it many times before, he could undoubtedly say that the feeling, no matter how fleeting it was, had been no more imagined than the death of his brother.

    At the same time, both of the segments in his head agreed that there were ways this could be explained away. He could have been stressed. His brain could have misfired. It could have been the product of a stray subliminal thought. He could be worrying over nothing.

    Or he could be inviting certain disaster by continued interaction with the admittedly fascinating elf.

    Either way, he was not one to let emotion get in the way of his work. He didn’t let his eye or face betray anything about him when he opened the door.

    The elf was lying face-up on the bed, violet eyes tracing the stones on the ceiling, and glanced at its visitor. It immediately sat up. “R—”

    “We don’t need to talk if you don’t want to. Not yet.” Redcloak closed the door and slowly walked to the foot of the bed.

    “What will one night do?” Vaarsuvius ran a hand through its hair, staring up at Redcloak with a surprising lack of nervousness. “I want to know what my comrades are doing.”

    “Trying to find and save you, I guess.”

    “I want to know what you know about them. I want to know if they are okay.”

    “They’re okay enough to kill my troops.” Redcloak’s fingers twitched in his lap. “Trance, Vaarsuvius. You’re going to need to be healthy more than ever for tomorrow.”

    “Are you going to hurt me?”

    Redcloak looked up, gold eye locking with violet.

    “Please answer.”

    “…”

    Redcloak sighed, shaking his head and looking away. “If you don’t cooperate.”

    Vaarsuvius pursed its lips. “Then do not be kind to me.”

    “Are you that rigid, really?” Redcloak frowned darkly. “You’re so desperate for some sense of order and black and white decisions that you’d turn down help where it’s offered?”

    “I am not asking for order and black and white decisions. I am asking what I should think of you as!” Vaarsuvius stood up sharply, knees wobbling a little in protest. “Should I think of you as, if perhaps not a friend, a benefactor? Or should I think of you as my so-called interrogator?”

    “Why do you need to label me?” Redcloak stood up slowly, fingers twitching a little, ready to catch the elf if it fell. “I’m not interested in seeing you suffer for the sake of it. I’m not interested in you wasting away. I’m interested in furthering my goals for my species, preferably without unnecessary loss of life. You have information I want. I’m not going to stop myself from hurting you to get it. But if you’re hurt, I will help.”

    “There is no label for that!”

    “Exactly.” Redcloak sighed. “Don’t bother labeling everything in your life.”

    “I know I can’t do that.” Vaarsuvius’s eyes glazed for a very brief moment. “I have been finding that out as of late.” The elf shook off the brief daze. “But please. Don’t put up a front.”

    “I’m not putting up a front!” Redcloak frowned darkly. “Don’t assume stuff about people you don’t know. You’re my patient. A patient that I am going to harm, but a patient.”

    “I do not need a tormentor’s nursing!”

    With that, Vaarsuvius’s knees promptly buckled under the weight they didn’t want to hold. Redcloak caught the tiny elf easily, one arm under its knees and one on its upper back. The elf immediately started squirming, slamming a weak fist against his chest, barely doing anything against the hard scales underneath the cleric’s garb. “Unhand me immediately!”

    “By the Dark One, you’re stubborn.”

    “If you are my enemy, let me fall!”

    “And let you hurt yourself?”

    “If you are planning on doing it yourself, I have no idea why you would care at all!”

    “You’re my patient!”

    “And your prisoner! Let me go or I swear—”

    Neither was quite sure what happened. On later reflection, Redcloak figured he may have just been looking for a way to shut Vaarsuvius up and went with an impulse he should have examined before acting on. Impulses, desire, social interaction in stressful or unusual situations… they were all very unpredictable. Neither of them was responsible for trying to deal with these things. Or that could have just been a story he told himself and there was a completely different and more uncomfortable reason. Either way, the result was the same. One moment, they were fighting, the next, they were kissing.

    It took both of them a good minute to process what was happening. They were acting without thought, only instinct that was deeply ingrained in every single sapient species. A stray thought, yet the most immediate one, informed Redcloak that the elf was very warm. It wasn’t an overwhelming heat, like direct sunlight hitting the same place for hours, but it was more like warmth from the sun that peaked briefly from between clouds during an otherwise cold day. Soft. Steady. Pleasant. Far from golblinoid.

    The elf made small fists against the goblin’s chest, navigating past the tusks with slight difficulty but slipping into a position that allowed better access. Redcloak’s brain started catching on to what was happening slowly, trying to hold on to the edge of his sanity and drag it back to the forefront, trying to impart that this wasn’t a really, really crazy dream.

    The elf made a gentle sound in the back of its throat. Maybe it was supposed to be a word. The Dark One only knew. Redcloak felt awareness slowly filtering back in his brain. He was kissing an elf. He was kissing Vaarsuvius. He should stop. He should really stop. He didn’t want to do this.

    “Stop,” Vaarsuvius said softly, parting their lips. It was the first to pull away, eyes wide. With that little word, the spell broke.

    Redcloak stiffened, gold eyes glowing a little brighter. Vaarsuvius averted its gaze, silenced for once. A weird sense of awkwardness, fear, and something neither were brave enough to try to name hung in the air. Redcloak slowly put the elf on the bed and turned away. Claws scraping against the ground, he left.

    He didn’t come back that night.

    ---

    “Jirix.”

    Jirix looked up from staring out of the giant hole in the tower, turning to see Redcloak, obviously back from appraising the troops. “Have either of the parties gotten through the illusions?”

    “Not yet, sir. They’re all completely lost. But the spell caster in the elven party is catching on and starting to try to undo the spells and it looks like the adventurers are trying to think of ways to see past the illusions.”

    “Good.” Redcloak stared up at the dark night sky through the giant gap, frowning, the gentle glow of the Snarl tinting the very air.

    “Sir, the prisoner should be interrogated soon, if you don’t mind my saying.”

    “I know.”

    There was an awkward silence.

    “Would you like me to do it, sir?”

    “No.”

    Jirix didn’t press the point. Anyone who knew about the presence of the elf knew that their Supreme Leader had been sleeping with her (or was it a he?) since she had been captured. Jirix wasn’t quite sure how comfortable he was with the idea that his leader was sleeping with an elven prisoner, and even less so when the possibility of force or coercion was put into play, but he wasn’t one to judge. If his leader didn’t want to interrogate his lover, it was perfectly understandable.

    But Jirix couldn’t help but admire the fact that his leader was willing to face the situation he had knowingly put himself in.

    “Savages. Dishonorable… please, let me take the elf’s place,” the paladin said for perhaps the millionth time since they took the elf away. No one had probably told him that he was in much worse shape accommodations-wise than the elf.

    “Will you stop that? It’s really starting to get old.” Redcloak distractedly waved a hand. “Jirix, get as many more illusions out there as you can. Make mazes, make monsters, make rabbits, I don’t care. Just as long as it’ll slow them down.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “If you can capture any of the elves or an adventurer that looks like he’s be a little looser-tongued, keep them in the dungeon and tell me. I’ll handle it.” Redcloak paused for a moment. “And don’t bother me while I’m interrogating. I have a feeling that this is going to take a while.” He turned around, gaze still rather distant, and left the room, going immediately to the door with the gold ring.

    Vaarsuvius looked up sharply, a raven on the tiny shoulder—the elf’s familiar—popping out of view with an angry caw.

    Redcloak was tempted to avert his eye, but he kept his gaze steady. He pulled up a chair to the bed slowly, sitting down and crossing his legs. “We’re going to start this slowly.”

    The elf stared at him, millions of emotions flashing through big violet eyes.

    “Where is your village?”

    “I…” Vaarsuvius still looked rather distracted and conflicted. “I would prefer not imparting that information.”

    “I won’t tell Xykon. Your home will be safe for now.”

    “You wouldn’t know it. It is secluded in the elven forests—few elven allies even know of it.”

    Redcloak paused, frowning a little. “We’ll get back to this.” He tapped his claws together, making a small clicking sound. Vaarsuvius frowned suspiciously. “I want to see your familiar.”

    The raven remained invisible and Vaarsuvius only narrowed violet eyes stubbornly. “I am not about to let you hurt him.”

    Redcloak stayed leaning back, gold eye resting coolly on the elf. “I won’t hurt him. If anything, I’ll hurt you.”

    Vaarsuvius stifled a small flinch, glare darkening and lips pursing.

    “Vaarsuvius, I don’t want to cut you again. Show your familiar and let him decide, if you want.”

    The elf held Redcloak’s gaze grimly, eyes flicking down very briefly to see the goblin claws gleaming. “…Very well.”

    A raven popped into view on the elf’s shoulder, making little sounds at the back of its throat.

    Redcloak slowly held out a clawed hand, clicking his nails together. “Well, then. You can either fly to me and this will go smoothly, or you can try to fly into the corner or something and I will be forced to hurt your master until you come down.”

    The bird didn’t hesitate.

    “Blackwing, don—”

    The familiar—Blackwing—completely ignored his master and flew to Redcloak’s hand, glaring in a way only ravens could. Vaarsuvius stiffened but didn’t move to touch Redcloak.

    Redcloak raised one hand and ran a claw down the raven’s wing, examining him closely for any signs of trying to break through his boundary spells. A few feathers were slightly singed—obviously, he had tried—but none were burnt enough to say the he had been able to actually get through them. Satisfied, Redcloak made a slight gesture with his hand and the raven flew off, disappearing again.

    “Why have you not hurt me yet?”

    “I’m not going to be eager to slap you around.” Redcloak looked the elf up and down, avoiding its eyes. It was obvious that it hadn’t tranced the night before.

    “Why won’t you present yourself in a consistent manner?!” Vaarsuvius’s fists curled up tightly and the violet eyes blazed defiantly.

    “This is an interrogation. Act like it or I’ll force you to calm down.” Redcloak shifted and tapped his claws together. “I’m going to ask you about the Order of the Stick. This time, I’m not going to leave it up to my claws to do the hurting.”

    Vaarsuvius glared darkly, staying sullenly silent for a few seconds. “I will not betray them.”

    “I don’t expect you to. I expect you to feed me a bunch of bogus information, then eventually give me as little hard truth as possible when I call you out on your lies and torture you even more because you, like every other wizard, probably used Charisma as a dump stat.”

    Vaarsuvius was silent.

    “I don’t want to hurt you, Vaarsuvius. I will if I have to.”

    “Then please try to explain something to me.”

    Redcloak frowned, shifting uncomfortably, instinctively knowing what subject was about to come up. “Yes?”

    “As embarrassing as it is for both of us, it happened. Why?”

    Redcloak had no problem understanding the elf. He also recognized the obvious stalling tactic—Vaarsuvius was probably even less eager to acknowledge it than he was—but he went along with it. “I don’t know.”

    “One of us must! People don’t do things for no reason!”

    “One of these days, you’re going to have to accept that not everything is logical.” Redcloak averted his gaze. “Just pretend that it didn’t happen.”

    “But it did happen.”

    “I know. You know. Doesn’t mean we need to acknowledge it.”

    “But you…” Vaarsuvius shook its head, hair looking a little more wild than usual. “First, you carry me to make sure I do not get hurt. Then you threaten me. Then you make sure I eat, and you start sleeping in my room to make sure I can trance. Then you give me milk to help my disturbances, completely without solicitation. You show compassion and kindness. Then you hurl me against the wall, slap me numerous times, and make me bleed. Then you heal me. Then you tell me that you will hurt me again. Then you kiss me. Tell me what I am supposed to make of you!” Vaarsuvius stood up from the bed, muscles tense, legs wobbling a little.

    “Get back into your bed or I’ll have to catch you again, and the Dark One knows what will happen this time.”

    Vaarsuvius quickly sat back down. “I need to know what to make of you.”

    “I don’t know what to make of myself.” Redcloak rubbed his temples. “Look, don’t do this. I’m about to get very violent with you and I’d prefer not to get into this kind of conversation beforehand.”

    “If I can deal with this confusion, you can deal with guilt!”

    Redcloak scowled a little at the snappish retort.

    “If you are going to hurt me, at least do me the courtesy of being consistent! I do not know if you are kind, cruel, or… or something else that I cannot think of a word for at the moment!”

    “You’re getting flustered.”

    “Of course I’m flustered! In the last few days, you have alternated dramatically between helping me fall asleep, beating me until I bleed, and… and kissing me all in quick succession!”

    Redcloak sighed softly in his head. He might as well get the elf to stop talking. It wasn’t as if any more damage could possibly be done.

    “I need you to—”

    Vaarsuvius didn’t complete its sentence. The likely reason was because it was difficult to keep speaking when lips were pressed against its own.

    Redcloak pulled away before going far, leaving Vaarsuvius effectively mute. He was glad to note that he didn’t feel anything from the peck. He could use it as a tool if he needed to. “Alright, then. I’m going to ask you about your party. You’re going to answer my questions.”

    Vaarsuvius nodded numbly.

    “I want to know their full names.”

    “You know most of them. The others are travelers and you would therefore gain nothing from their names.”

    “Just answer.”

    “Very well. You wish to know their names and that is useless information. That is my answer.”

    Redcloak paused for a moment. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

    “I have given you my answer.”

    Redcloak raised his hand, spreading his fingers and brandishing his shining claws. Vaarsuvius leaned forward, taking his face in cool pale hands, and kissed him softly.

    Redcloak promptly froze, slowly lowering his hand and resting it lightly on the elf’s waist. The kiss was polite, chaste, warm. Redcloak’s throat closed up a little. A weird mix of fear and something else he didn’t care to name clenched his chest. For some weird reason, he was more shocked by this than any other time. The first could be explained away as impulse. The second time it was a tool he used. This time, it was a tool being used against him. And it was working.

    Damn it.

    Alright, then. This was the part where he closed the door they had opened up.

    “Stop it.” Redcloak pushed Vaarsuvius away, frowning darkly. “I don’t appreciate being manipulated.”

    “Neither do I and yet you did the same.” Vaarsuvius scowled a little and crossed its arms.

    “Then we both should stop. I’m your jailer and you’re my prisoner, or I’m your medic and you’re my patient, or whatever our relationship is classified as at this point. Either way, the power balance is unequal and physical relations are completely inappropriate.”

    “I agree.” Vaarsuvius arched an eyebrow. “I also think that it is inappropriate for a medic to beat their patient or a jailer to nurse their prisoner.”

    “Here we go again.” Redcloak shook his head. “Look, stop trying to distract me. I need this information and you have it. Accept that I’m going to hurt you to get it.”

    “I will accept it if you promise to act purely as my jailer and tormenter from then on.”

    “You’d drop dead from exhaustion if I didn’t come here for you to trance.”

    “You shouldn’t care.”

    “I’m not giving you a choice in how I treat you.”

    “Then I suppose that you will have to accept that, if you let this relationship remain uncategorized, it will get more disorderly and convoluted with inappropriate lines being crossed,” Vaarsuvius said dryly.

    Redcloak looked up at the ceiling. “Have I told you that you’re stubborn?”

    “Yes.”

    Redcloak shook his head, remembering himself. “The names of your comrades. I want them.”

    “I won’t give them.”

    “Damn it, Vaarsuvius!”

    Redcloak stood up sharply, grabbing Vaarsuvius’s arms tightly, claws digging deep into the delicate flesh, eliciting a hastily stifled wince. “I can find out in other ways! They’re in the city! They’re not subtle in the least! Then you’ll be hurt and I’ll have the information anyway!”

    He pulled on the elf so roughly that it was forced to stand up from the bed, its only support the claws stuck in its skin, blood trickling out from the edges of the wounds they were causing.

    “Don’t be stupid about this. I don’t want to hurt you.”

    Why?! Why don’t you want to hurt me?!” Vaarsuvius squirmed, eyes burning hot with defiance. “I’m a prisoner!

    “People aren’t cans! Relationships aren’t boxes!” Redcloak shook the elf violently. “They can’t be labeled clearly all the time!”

    “But they can some of the time!” Vaarsuvius glared, chin turned up proudly. “I will not have my emotions played with and batted around as if they were a feline’s toy!”

    “Will you just cooperate for once?!” Redcloak threw the elf down on the bed roughly, glaring. “You’re still delicate! I could kill you during interrogation if I’m not careful! Why don’t you just shove your loyalty and confusion and pride in some dark corner for once?!

    “That is all I have here!” Vaarsuvius’s fists clenched on the bed and its eyes narrowed furiously. “I have made many mistakes, Redcloak. I will not add to it by betraying my comrades, even if my health or my life is on the line.”

    “We’ve all made mistakes!” Redcloak leaned down, propping himself up by his hands on either side of the elf and leaning in to glare. “Get over it and try to save yourself while you can.”

    Magic, long stagnant within the elf’s body, started shifting tangibly without form. It felt like a small tugging in Redcloak’s stomach, the scent of thyme and rosewood, magic, heavy in the air. He wasn’t worried. It was only a sign that the elf was angry and determined—harmless.

    “I refuse, Redcloak. Hurt me if you wish.”

    Redcloak’s eye flashed and he slapped the elf hard, claws ripping through the fragile skin. Vaarsuvius stifled a cry, turning its face back and glowering at Redcloak.

    “Their names. Give them to me.”

    “And allow you to use them to track down any possible family members of theirs?! I’d sooner die!”

    “Then you will!” Redcloak grabbed Vaarsuvius and tightened his grip on the elf’s arms, tearing through flesh and making blood flow. “Inflict critical wounds.”

    Vaarsuvius promptly started to scream, trying and failing to stifle it. Bones cracked inside of the tiny body. Giant wounds ripped open all over it, blood blossoming and flowing without warning. The arm that Redcloak had healed on the first night twisted and snapped in two, eliciting a shout, and the bed was stained red.

    “Give me their names!”

    At this point, Vaarsuvius seemed to decide that it was impossible to stop the screams and just focused on keeping the tears of pain in check. The elf gasped, trying to get air into lungs threatened by ribs snapping like toothpicks, and coughed, eliciting another shout of pain. It grit its teeth furiously, forcing its eyes open, and through the blood and sweat and pain, it glowered rebelliously.

    Vaarsuvius was beautiful.

    “I shall die before I betray them,” Vaarsuvius hissed, venom dripping from its voice.

    Redcloak reached out, eye cold, and gripped the broken arm, eliciting a stifled cry of pain. “I’ll give you one last chance. I want their names and any other information you can provide that would help fighting them.”

    Vaarsuvius’s glare didn’t waver. “Do what you want.”

    Redcloak’s grip tightened on the break. Vaarsuvius’s teeth clenched and its eyes flared with pain, but the defiance and pride didn’t leave.

    All at once, Redcloak closed his eye and looked up at the ceiling. “I’ve been too soft. Cure critical wounds.”

    Vaarsuvius stifled a soft groan of pain as the spell went quickly to work in fixing everything the last spell had broken, healing over the gashes, regenerating blood, and mending the snapped bones within. Redcloak let the elf’s arm go, absently running a claw through its royal purple hair. “I’ve gotten soft.”

    “Please stop confusing me.”

    “I’m confusing myself.”

    Vaarsuvius winced and there was a soft clicking sound in its torso. “You can’t toy with me and my emotions like this.”

    “It was never my intention.”

    “Your intentions are meaningless! Your actions—”

    “You’re one to talk.” Redcloak rolled his eye. “Just shut up for once.”

    Vaarsuvius stiffened and fell into a flustered silence.

    Redcloak looked out the window, noting how dark it was. “It’s late.” He lightly ran a claw down the healing elf’s face. “Trance.”

    “I don’t know what to think anymore. I am tired of trying to make sense of it.”

    “You’ll feel better in the morning if you trance.”

    Vaarsuvius looked up at Redcloak with a weird mixture of wariness and fatigue and pride in big violet eyes, straightening out torn and bloody robes. “Are you going to leave tonight?”

    “No. You have my word.”

    “Are you going to hurt me again?”

    “Not this time.”

    Vaarsuvius was quiet for a moment. “If nothing, you have been honest with me.” The elf slowly backed into the corner, closing its eyes and slipping into a trance. Finally, thoroughly exhausted, Redcloak fell asleep as well.
    Last edited by Water-Smurf; 2009-09-05 at 07:05 AM.

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    The April Squickies Award for Best Crack Pairing Story


    Thank you so much to Kaytara for the avatar! It's of Redcloak's and Vaarsuvius's love child.

  22. - Top - End - #1102
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    RedWizardGuy

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Chapter two of my story, in which Miko has her first day as a member of Team Evil.

    Chapter Two: Miko's First Day (Creative, no?)

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    Miko followed her new "Mistress", as she insisted on being called, through the streets. As they walked Miko could not help but wonder what she had done to deserve this.

    "Have I offended the Twelve Gods so much they sought fit to allow this to happen to me? Have they abandoned me?" She shock her head to make the thought go away, this must only be a test from them.

    Yes it was a test, a test to show her devotion be destroying the evil doers who now infested her fair city. They had allowed her to come back for one last chance to unleash righteous vengeance against the forces of evil. Miko swore a silent vow that she would not let them down, somehow she would kill the enemy and make the gods proud. As they walked a little further Miko decided to ask her "Mistress" exactly where they were going.

    "Mistress, where are we going?" said Miko, scorn on word mistress.

    "Oh, just to see my new boss. I want to ask him if we can borrow some slaves from you to fight. I'm sure he has plenty of them." said Tsukiko.

    "That's deplorable!" said Miko, so wanting to kill the girl, but not able to due to the magic used on her.

    "I had a feeling you would say that. But don't worry, once you get used to it killing the innocent should come easy." said Tsukiko.

    "Never! Never will I spread the blood of the innocent!" Yelled Miko, clenching her fists and raising them to the sky.

    "We'll see about that. Now come on, all the good slaves might be gone by now." said Tsukiko.

    As they were walking along Redcloak could be seen walking down the street towards them.

    "You! New girl, there you are. I've been trying to find you. Xykon says he wants everyone at the castle now, says he's got something to show us." Redcloak said to Tsukiko, then he noticed Miko behind her.

    "And just who is that?" said Redcloak.

    "Oh, this is just my new minion/bodyguard, made her myself." said Tsukiko, very proud.

    Miko just rolled her eyes, wishing a piece of rubble would fall and crush the witch. But luck was not on her side as Tsukiko remained uncrushed and the conversation went on.

    "Uh, what did you make it out of anyway, that outfit seems hauntingly familiar." said Redcloak.

    "Oh, she's just the former number one Paladin in the Sapphire Guard, that's all." said Tsukiko, smirking evilly.

    "O-oh really? That's great, really great for you." said Redcloak, slightly nervous as visions of his tribe being ripped apart by Paladins flashed through his mind, and now here was an undead one.

    "Hmm, he seems to fear me a touch, that's good. Once I am free and able to smite them that moment of fear might give me an opportunity to vanquish him." Thought Miko to herself, meanwhile Tsukiko was thinking something slightly different.

    "Yes! He's totally afraid of my new warrior. When the time comes to kill him that will make the job all the easier." Tsukiko thought, then Readcloak spoke up.

    "A-anyway, we better get going, Xykon doesn't like to be..." said Redcloak, but then all of a sudden the ground began to shake.

    "What is it, an earthquake?!" yelled Redcloak.

    "No! look!" yelled Tsukiko, as she pointed towards the ruined castle.

    They all looked to see a green tower wrenching itself up towards the sky. It grew and grew until it was even taller then the old Azure City Palace.

    "By the Dark One, is that what Xykon was up too? Come on you two, lets find out what's going on." said Redcloak, running to the castle.

    "Come on Miko, I want to see this up close!" Tsukiko said as she took off, with Miko right behind.

    "Oh gods, what have these monsters done to my city now?" though Miko as she ran after Tsukiko.

    They all ran as fast as they could through the streets, until finally they got to the square near the castle. They all stopped in their tracks as they got a good look at the tower, which was even bigger up close. Xykon was standing at the base of it, with a crowd of hobgoblins cheering him.

    "Yes, yes, I know, I'm amazing. Now keep cheering or I'll fry you all." said Xykon as he took a bow like some cheap stage magician, it was then he noticed Redcloak and the two girls.

    "Well there you losers are, you missed the whole show. Where were you anyway?" said Xykon, a hint of danger in his voice.

    "I was looking for the new girl, that's what took so long." said Redcloak, expertly passing the buck.

    "Uh, I was coming here, but he stopped me to have a chat." said Tsukiko, lying to save her skin.

    "Whatever, don't bore me with your little problems, just do what I say when I say it, got that?" Said Xykon, a threat clearly in his voice.

    "Y-yes sir!" said Tsukiko.

    It was then that Xykon noticed Miko standing next to Tsukiko.

    "And just what is that standing next to you?" said Xykon.

    "Oh, this is just my new undead warrior, I made it myself." said Tsukiko.

    "Undead warrior huh? Well lets take a look at her." said Xykon, he then walked over to examine Miko.

    Miko then experienced the most humiliating moment of her life. Xykon began to poke and prod her body in the ribs and other places. He even looked at her teeth like she was a common horse. The righteous fury and anger welled up in Miko, but she could not attack the Lich like she so wanted to do.

    "Curse that witch! She must have made it so I could not attack her master. She will suffer even more for this indignity." Thought Miko, as she glared at Xykon.

    "Hmm, what's it made out of anyway?" said Xykon.

    "Oh nothing, just some grade A Paladin and a little Create Greater Undead." said Tsukiko.

    "A Paladin huh? That and the Create Greater Undead would explain why she's been glaring at me for the last two minutes. I like it, both cruel and functional. Good job kid, I really think you've got a great future with us." said Xykon.

    "But not as great as you are sir." said Tsukiko, kissing up.

    "I know, I know. Now then time to get the stuff into the tower. Ok minions, bring it in!" said Xykon.

    With that the hobgoblins began to bring in chest after chest of gold, jewels and other miscellaneous items.

    "By the Dark One! Where did all this come from?" said Redcloak.

    "You'd be surprised what you find when you loot the homes, businesses and recently made corpses of an entire city." said Xykon.

    "Very impressive sir." said Redcloak.

    "Isn't it though, by the way, has anyone seen that stupid monster of ours? I haven't seen him since the battle began." said Xykon, to which Redcloak and Tsukiko could only shrug.

    But just at that moment, as if called, the MitD suddenly appeared in the square, dragging along the second most unlucky Paladin in the world (the first being poor Miko), O-Chul.

    "Hey, there you guys are I've been looking all over for you! Look what I found, a new friend! His name is Mr. Stiffly." said the MitD, lifting up the still immobile O-Chul.

    "Well well, when it rains it pours. Guess we have another Paladin to turn into an undead." said Xykon.

    "Oh no! Not this one too, we need someone to interrogate about the other Gates and their secrets! Besides she already has one, it's my turn to torment one of these bastards!" said Redcloak.

    "Fine, let the baby have his bottle. Anyway I'm bored, I think I'll go use some of the slaves as target practice." said Xykon.

    "Uh sir, speaking of target practice, I was wondering if I could have some slaves to test my new undead out on?" said Tsukiko.

    "What? Oh sure, go ahead. Just tell the slave master to give you some, tell him I sent you. Now if you excuse me, some unlucky humans have a date with a fireball." said Xykon as he walked off.

    "Come Miko, we have some slaves to procure." said Tsukiko as they walked towards the slave masters temporary office.

    A little while later Tsukiko had gotten five slaves, who huddled chained together against a wall. Tsukiko handed Miko a sword and placed her in front of the frightened slaves.

    "Ok Miko, I want to see how you handle a sword and fight, so cut down these slaves." She said.

    "B-but, I can't do that, they are innocent people. It would be totally unthinkable." said Miko.

    "Well I'm telling you to do it, and you know by now you can't disobey me, so do it." said Tsukiko.

    "But..." began Miko before Tsukiko cut her off.

    "I said do!" said Tsukiko, more forcefully.

    Miko sighed and raised the sword, realizing that she could not disobey. The slaves moved closer together in a futile attempt to protect themsleves. Miko eyed them for a second and then brought her sword down on them. She slashed and cut as the screams of the poor souls filled the air. Time seemed to blur until Miko was down to the last one, an angry looking young man.

    "I am sorry I have to do this, I will pray for you." said Miko.

    "Like heck you will! How could you do this to us?! May the Twelve Gods curse you forever you fat cow!" yelled the man.

    This was a grave mistake, for at that last sentence something in Miko snapped. Miko raised the sword and with a crazy grimace on her face she brought it down. She slashed the young man again and again and again, and the strange, almost frighting thing was... she was enjoying it. Soon the young man was cut up into at least ten pieces before Miko finally stopped. Miko looked at the remains, then she looked at the sword in her hands with shocked eyes.

    "W-what have I done?" said Miko, dropping the sword and falling to her knees.

    "You did good, don't worry about it. These slaves would have died anyway at some point. Think of it as doing them a favor." said Tsukiko as she walked over and put her hands on Miko's shoulders.

    "But...but..." said Miko, but Tsukiko shushed her.

    "No buts, now I see you are a little shaken up after taking those innocent lives. So why don't you go for a walk? I have a special surprise I need to work on for you. I'll send someone to get you when it is done, do you understand?" said Tsukiko.

    "Uh huh." said Miko, unable to say anything more.

    "Good, now take your sword and go for a walk, that's an order." said Tsukiko.

    "Yes Mistress." said Miko in a dull voice, she then picked up the sword and walked away.

    Miko walked down the street, dragging her sword behind her. The sword made a scraping sound as she walked down the ruined streets of the city. In Miko's mind there was much conflict about what had just transpired.

    "How could I have done that? How could I have cut down that young man without so much as a bit of remorse? By the gods I even enjoyed it! What in the name of Soon Kim is happening to me?" Miko thought to herself.

    As the thoughts of the event raced around her mind, there came from behind her a noise. Miko whipped around but saw that there was nothing there.

    "Hmm, must have been a piece of debris." said Miko, she then turned and continued walking.

    Behind the wall of a ruined shop, two faces rose up to watch the retreating ex-paladin.

    "By the gods! Is that Miko?" said Haley

    "I think it is, this is my lucky day. I finally get to cut out her liver!" said Belkar as he tried to chase after Miko, but Haley grabbed his arm.

    "No! Didn't you see the tattered cloths, the gray skin, the huge ass scar across her mid-section. She's been turned into an undead!" said Haley.

    "I know, why do you think I'm going to do it now. She's not alive which means I can cut her up without this stupid mark going off." said Belkar.

    No, we don't have time for this. We need to find some food and a place to hide. Then we need to figure out what to do next." said Haley.

    "Awwwww." said Belkar, sad he couldn't murder.

    "Look, the next time we see her you can kill her. But right now is food and hiding time." said Haley.

    "Ok, I suppose my revenge and blood lust can wait for the moment. Besides I'm hungry, lets get some grub." said Belkar, and then they left.

    After an hour or so of walking Miko was still feeling conflicted about life, or un-life as it may be. As she walked a hobgoblin walked towards her.

    "Hey, are you the chick named Miko?" said the Hobgoblin.

    "Unfortuantely." said Miko.

    "Well that other chick, "Mistress Tsukiko" wants to see you, says she has something for you. She's in the tower, third level, second door on the right." He said.

    "Fine then, I will go see her." said Miko.

    Miko walked to the tower and paused, staring at the edifice. It seemed to blight the very sky of the city with evil. She sighed and then walked through the entrance. Miko climbed the stairs until she was at her destination, a door that said "Mistress Tsukiko: Super Awesome Raiser of the Dead." Rolling her eyes Miko opened the door and found a most shocking site.

    The room was decorated with hanging sheets of silk, colored red and black. candles were softly glowing on several tables, and the smell of sweet incense filled the air. On the back wall was a round bed with many pillows, and laying on that bed was Tsukiko, in the skimpiest (and only) piece of lingerie Miko had ever seen.

    "W-what is this? What is going on?" said Miko, really hoping not to get the answer she was thinking of.

    "Oh, this is part of the surprise I mentioned earlier. Do you like it?" said Tsukiko.

    "Well...I..." said Miko, not able to think of anything.

    "Enough talk, how about you come and sit with me?" said Tsukiko, motioning for Miko to come over.

    "May the Twelve Gods give me the strength to endure this." Thought Miko as she reluctantly walked over.


    Poor, poor Miko, that is one rough first day on the job. I wonder why I'm doing this to her, I actually like Miko.

    Oh well, I guess its like they say, If you love something, let it be turned into an undead... wait a minute, that doesn't sound right.

    Anyway I hope you enjoyed this, please offer any comments or insight you may wish to give, thank you!
    I Am A: Chaotic Good Human Sorcerer (3rd Level)
    Ability Scores:
    Strength- 9
    Dexterity- 11
    Constitution- 11
    Intelligence- 12
    Wisdom- 11
    Charisma- 11

  23. - Top - End - #1103
    Halfling in the Playground
     
    Carnivorous M.'s Avatar

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    Jun 2009
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    TX, USA
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    Absofreakin'lutely amazing as usual, Smurf. That is all I have to say.
    "It must be humbling to suck on so many levels." -Sheldon Cooper, Big Bang Theory

    When life gives you lemons, tell Belkar it called him short and then laugh from a safe distance.

    Starving the trolls since 2004

    Proud inventor of the I-pod Throwing Star... I think.

    Feel free to click the clickies! (By that I mean DO IT NOW!)

  24. - Top - End - #1104
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    Lira's Avatar

    Join Date
    May 2007

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    Quote Originally Posted by Carnivorous M. View Post
    Absofreakin'lutely amazing as usual, Smurf. That is all I have to say.
    +1


    Water-Smurf, I am in awe of your writing prowess. Your stories really draw me in, and I think that's what I love most about them.

    Just thought I'd point out one minor grammatical error:
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    “Your intentions are meaningless! You’re actions—”
    That should be "Your", right?


    As always, I greatly look forward to the next chapter!
    Last edited by Lira; 2009-09-05 at 12:38 AM.
    Credits to half-halfling for my adorable avatar.

    ...............................................

    Come visit the Discussion Thread Index II.
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  25. - Top - End - #1105
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Zanaril's Avatar

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    England

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    Quote Originally Posted by Water-Smurf View Post
    A comic? Really?

    You've made my week.

    Jeeze. Well, I finished the next chapter and I'm not sure how happy I am about the quality, so if you have any critique to offer, that would be very appreciated.
    I honestly can't see any drop in quality. It's still as immersive as ever, everyone's in-character (well, as in-character as anyone can be in a crack pairing fic), and I'm left desperate for the next chapter.
    Last edited by Zanaril; 2009-09-05 at 03:41 AM.
    This post may contain sarcasm.
    DeviantArt

  26. - Top - End - #1106
    Banned
     
    xelliea's Avatar

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    Germany.
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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Quote Originally Posted by Water-Smurf View Post
    A comic? Really?

    You've made my week.

    Jeeze. Well, I finished the next chapter and I'm not sure how happy I am about the quality, so if you have any critique to offer, that would be very appreciated.

    Spoiler
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    Redcloak had almost been scared to go back to the elf’s room. That brief moment of desire, of outright lust, had left him fearful and unsure. The person inside of him insisted that he had only imagined it. He was a goblin and a self-proclaimed species-ist, and had never and never would be attracted to anything but a goblin female. The scientist inside of him just shook his dispassionate head and reminded him that no person was purely one thing (except for maybe Xykon—he was pure evil) and that, seeing as he had felt such lust many times before and had acted on it many times before, he could undoubtedly say that the feeling, no matter how fleeting it was, had been no more imagined than the death of his brother.

    At the same time, both of the segments in his head agreed that there were ways this could be explained away. He could have been stressed. His brain could have misfired. It could have been the product of a stray subliminal thought. He could be worrying over nothing.

    Or he could be inviting certain disaster by continued interaction with the admittedly fascinating elf.

    Either way, he was not one to let emotion get in the way of his work. He didn’t let his eye or face betray anything about him when he opened the door.

    The elf was lying face-up on the bed, violet eyes tracing the stones on the ceiling, and glanced at its visitor. It immediately sat up. “R—”

    “We don’t need to talk if you don’t want to. Not yet.” Redcloak closed the door and slowly walked to the foot of the bed.

    “What will one night do?” Vaarsuvius ran a hand through its hair, staring up at Redcloak with a surprising lack of nervousness. “I want to know what my comrades are doing.”

    “Trying to find and save you, I guess.”

    “I want to know what you know about them. I want to know if they are okay.”

    “They’re okay enough to kill my troops.” Redcloak’s fingers twitched in his lap. “Trance, Vaarsuvius. You’re going to need to be healthy more than ever for tomorrow.”

    “Are you going to hurt me?”

    Redcloak looked up, gold eye locking with violet.

    “Please answer.”

    “…”

    Redcloak sighed, shaking his head and looking away. “If you don’t cooperate.”

    Vaarsuvius pursed its lips. “Then do not be kind to me.”

    “Are you that rigid, really?” Redcloak frowned darkly. “You’re so desperate for some sense of order and black and white decisions that you’d turn down help where it’s offered?”

    “I am not asking for order and black and white decisions. I am asking what I should think of you as!” Vaarsuvius stood up sharply, knees wobbling a little in protest. “Should I think of you as, if perhaps not a friend, a benefactor? Or should I think of you as my so-called interrogator?”

    “Why do you need to label me?” Redcloak stood up slowly, fingers twitching a little, ready to catch the elf if it fell. “I’m not interested in seeing you suffer for the sake of it. I’m not interested in you wasting away. I’m interested in furthering my goals for my species, preferably without unnecessary loss of life. You have information I want. I’m not going to stop myself from hurting you to get it. But if you’re hurt, I will help.”

    “There is no label for that!”

    “Exactly.” Redcloak sighed. “Don’t bother labeling everything in your life.”

    “I know I can’t do that.” Vaarsuvius’s eyes glazed for a very brief moment. “I have been finding that out as of late.” The elf shook off the brief daze. “But please. Don’t put up a front.”

    “I’m not putting up a front!” Redcloak frowned darkly. “Don’t assume stuff about people you don’t know. You’re my patient. A patient that I am going to harm, but a patient.”

    “I do not need a tormentor’s nursing!”

    With that, Vaarsuvius’s knees promptly buckled under the weight they didn’t want to hold. Redcloak caught the tiny elf easily, one arm under its knees and one on its upper back. The elf immediately started squirming, slamming a weak fist against his chest, barely doing anything against the hard scales underneath the cleric’s garb. “Unhand me immediately!”

    “By the Dark One, you’re stubborn.”

    “If you are my enemy, let me fall!”

    “And let you hurt yourself?”

    “If you are planning on doing it yourself, I have no idea why you would care at all!”

    “You’re my patient!”

    “And your prisoner! Let me go or I swear—”

    Neither was quite sure what happened. On later reflection, Redcloak figured he may have just been looking for a way to shut Vaarsuvius up and went with an impulse he should have examined before acting on. Impulses, desire, social interaction in stressful or unusual situations… they were all very unpredictable. Neither of them was responsible for trying to deal with these things. Or that could have just been a story he told himself and there was a completely different and more uncomfortable reason. Either way, the result was the same. One moment, they were fighting, the next, they were kissing.

    It took both of them a good minute to process what was happening. They were acting without thought, only instinct that was deeply ingrained in every single sapient species. A stray thought, yet the most immediate one, informed Redcloak that the elf was very warm. It wasn’t an overwhelming heat, like direct sunlight hitting the same place for hours, but it was more like warmth from the sun that peaked briefly from between clouds during an otherwise cold day. Soft. Steady. Pleasant. Far from golblinoid.

    The elf made small fists against the goblin’s chest, navigating past the tusks with slight difficulty but slipping into a position that allowed better access. Redcloak’s brain started catching on to what was happening slowly, trying to hold on to the edge of his sanity and drag it back to the forefront, trying to impart that this wasn’t a really, really crazy dream.

    The elf made a gentle sound in the back of its throat. Maybe it was supposed to be a word. The Dark One only knew. Redcloak felt awareness slowly filtering back in his brain. He was kissing an elf. He was kissing Vaarsuvius. He should stop. He should really stop. He didn’t want to do this.

    “Stop,” Vaarsuvius said softly, parting their lips. It was the first to pull away, eyes wide. With that little word, the spell broke.

    Redcloak stiffened, gold eyes glowing a little brighter. Vaarsuvius averted its gaze, silenced for once. A weird sense of awkwardness, fear, and something neither were brave enough to try to name hung in the air. Redcloak slowly put the elf on the bed and turned away. Claws scraping against the ground, he left.

    He didn’t come back that night.

    ---

    “Jirix.”

    Jirix looked up from staring out of the giant hole in the tower, turning to see Redcloak, obviously back from appraising the troops. “Have either of the parties gotten through the illusions?”

    “Not yet, sir. They’re all completely lost. But the spell caster in the elven party is catching on and starting to try to undo the spells and it looks like the adventurers are trying to think of ways to see past the illusions.”

    “Good.” Redcloak stared up at the dark night sky through the giant gap, frowning, the gentle glow of the Snarl tinting the very air.

    “Sir, the prisoner should be interrogated soon, if you don’t mind my saying.”

    “I know.”

    There was an awkward silence.

    “Would you like me to do it, sir?”

    “No.”

    Jirix didn’t press the point. Anyone who knew about the presence of the elf knew that their Supreme Leader had been sleeping with her (or was it a he?) since she had been captured. Jirix wasn’t quite sure how comfortable he was with the idea that his leader was sleeping with an elven prisoner, and even less so when the possibility of force or coercion was put into play, but he wasn’t one to judge. If his leader didn’t want to interrogate his lover, it was perfectly understandable.

    But Jirix couldn’t help but admire the fact that his leader was willing to face the situation he had knowingly put himself in.

    “Savages. Dishonorable… please, let me take the elf’s place,” the paladin said for perhaps the millionth time since they took the elf away. No one had probably told him that he was in much worse shape accommodations-wise than the elf.

    “Will you stop that? It’s really starting to get old.” Redcloak distractedly waved a hand. “Jirix, get as many more illusions out there as you can. Make mazes, make monsters, make rabbits, I don’t care. Just as long as it’ll slow them down.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “If you can capture any of the elves or an adventurer that looks like he’s be a little looser-tongued, keep them in the dungeon and tell me. I’ll handle it.” Redcloak paused for a moment. “And don’t bother me while I’m interrogating. I have a feeling that this is going to take a while.” He turned around, gaze still rather distant, and left the room, going immediately to the door with the gold ring.

    Vaarsuvius looked up sharply, a raven on the tiny shoulder—the elf’s familiar—popping out of view with an angry caw.

    Redcloak was tempted to avert his eye, but he kept his gaze steady. He pulled up a chair to the bed slowly, sitting down and crossing his legs. “We’re going to start this slowly.”

    The elf stared at him, millions of emotions flashing through big violet eyes.

    “Where is your village?”

    “I…” Vaarsuvius still looked rather distracted and conflicted. “I would prefer not imparting that information.”

    “I won’t tell Xykon. Your home will be safe for now.”

    “You wouldn’t know it. It is secluded in the elven forests—few elven allies even know of it.”

    Redcloak paused, frowning a little. “We’ll get back to this.” He tapped his claws together, making a small clicking sound. Vaarsuvius frowned suspiciously. “I want to see your familiar.”

    The raven remained invisible and Vaarsuvius only narrowed violet eyes stubbornly. “I am not about to let you hurt him.”

    Redcloak stayed leaning back, gold eye resting coolly on the elf. “I won’t hurt him. If anything, I’ll hurt you.”

    Vaarsuvius stifled a small flinch, glare darkening and lips pursing.

    “Vaarsuvius, I don’t want to cut you again. Show your familiar and let him decide, if you want.”

    The elf held Redcloak’s gaze grimly, eyes flicking down very briefly to see the goblin claws gleaming. “…Very well.”

    A raven popped into view on the elf’s shoulder, making little sounds at the back of its throat.

    Redcloak slowly held out a clawed hand, clicking his nails together. “Well, then. You can either fly to me and this will go smoothly, or you can try to fly into the corner or something and I will be forced to hurt your master until you come down.”

    The bird didn’t hesitate.

    “Blackwing, don—”

    The familiar—Blackwing—completely ignored his master and flew to Redcloak’s hand, glaring in a way only ravens could. Vaarsuvius stiffened but didn’t move to touch Redcloak.

    Redcloak raised one hand and ran a claw down the raven’s wing, examining him closely for any signs of trying to break through his boundary spells. A few feathers were slightly singed—obviously, he had tried—but none were burnt enough to say the he had been able to actually get through them. Satisfied, Redcloak made a slight gesture with his hand and the raven flew off, disappearing again.

    “Why have you not hurt me yet?”

    “I’m not going to be eager to slap you around.” Redcloak looked the elf up and down, avoiding its eyes. It was obvious that it hadn’t tranced the night before.

    “Why won’t you present yourself in a consistent manner?!” Vaarsuvius’s fists curled up tightly and the violet eyes blazed defiantly.

    “This is an interrogation. Act like it or I’ll force you to calm down.” Redcloak shifted and tapped his claws together. “I’m going to ask you about the Order of the Stick. This time, I’m not going to leave it up to my claws to do the hurting.”

    Vaarsuvius glared darkly, staying sullenly silent for a few seconds. “I will not betray them.”

    “I don’t expect you to. I expect you to feed me a bunch of bogus information, then eventually give me as little hard truth as possible when I call you out on your lies and torture you even more because you, like every other wizard, probably used Charisma as a dump stat.”

    Vaarsuvius was silent.

    “I don’t want to hurt you, Vaarsuvius. I will if I have to.”

    “Then please try to explain something to me.”

    Redcloak frowned, shifting uncomfortably, instinctively knowing what subject was about to come up. “Yes?”

    “As embarrassing as it is for both of us, it happened. Why?”

    Redcloak had no problem understanding the elf. He also recognized the obvious stalling tactic—Vaarsuvius was probably even less eager to acknowledge it than he was—but he went along with it. “I don’t know.”

    “One of us must! People don’t do things for no reason!”

    “One of these days, you’re going to have to accept that not everything is logical.” Redcloak averted his gaze. “Just pretend that it didn’t happen.”

    “But it did happen.”

    “I know. You know. Doesn’t mean we need to acknowledge it.”

    “But you…” Vaarsuvius shook its head, hair looking a little more wild than usual. “First, you carry me to make sure I do not get hurt. Then you threaten me. Then you make sure I eat, and you start sleeping in my room to make sure I can trance. Then you give me milk to help my disturbances, completely without solicitation. You show compassion and kindness. Then you hurl me against the wall, slap me numerous times, and make me bleed. Then you heal me. Then you tell me that you will hurt me again. Then you kiss me. Tell me what I am supposed to make of you!” Vaarsuvius stood up from the bed, muscles tense, legs wobbling a little.

    “Get back into your bed or I’ll have to catch you again, and the Dark One knows what will happen this time.”

    Vaarsuvius quickly sat back down. “I need to know what to make of you.”

    “I don’t know what to make of myself.” Redcloak rubbed his temples. “Look, don’t do this. I’m about to get very violent with you and I’d prefer not to get into this kind of conversation beforehand.”

    “If I can deal with this confusion, you can deal with guilt!”

    Redcloak scowled a little at the snappish retort.

    “If you are going to hurt me, at least do me the courtesy of being consistent! I do not know if you are kind, cruel, or… or something else that I cannot think of a word for at the moment!”

    “You’re getting flustered.”

    “Of course I’m flustered! In the last few days, you have alternated dramatically between helping me fall asleep, beating me until I bleed, and… and kissing me all in quick succession!”

    Redcloak sighed softly in his head. He might as well get the elf to stop talking. It wasn’t as if any more damage could possibly be done.

    “I need you to—”

    Vaarsuvius didn’t complete its sentence. The likely reason was because it was difficult to keep speaking when lips were pressed against its own.

    Redcloak pulled away before going far, leaving Vaarsuvius effectively mute. He was glad to note that he didn’t feel anything from the peck. He could use it as a tool if he needed to. “Alright, then. I’m going to ask you about your party. You’re going to answer my questions.”

    Vaarsuvius nodded numbly.

    “I want to know their full names.”

    “You know most of them. The others are travelers and you would therefore gain nothing from their names.”

    “Just answer.”

    “Very well. You wish to know their names and that is useless information. That is my answer.”

    Redcloak paused for a moment. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

    “I have given you my answer.”

    Redcloak raised his hand, spreading his fingers and brandishing his shining claws. Vaarsuvius leaned forward, taking his face in cool pale hands, and kissed him softly.

    Redcloak promptly froze, slowly lowering his hand and resting it lightly on the elf’s waist. The kiss was polite, chaste, warm. Redcloak’s throat closed up a little. A weird mix of fear and something else he didn’t care to name clenched his chest. For some weird reason, he was more shocked by this than any other time. The first could be explained away as impulse. The second time it was a tool he used. This time, it was a tool being used against him. And it was working.

    Damn it.

    Alright, then. This was the part where he closed the door they had opened up.

    “Stop it.” Redcloak pushed Vaarsuvius away, frowning darkly. “I don’t appreciate being manipulated.”

    “Neither do I and yet you did the same.” Vaarsuvius scowled a little and crossed its arms.

    “Then we both should stop. I’m your jailer and you’re my prisoner, or I’m your medic and you’re my patient, or whatever our relationship is classified as at this point. Either way, the power balance is unequal and physical relations are completely inappropriate.”

    “I agree.” Vaarsuvius arched an eyebrow. “I also think that it is inappropriate for a medic to beat their patient or a jailer to nurse their prisoner.”

    “Here we go again.” Redcloak shook his head. “Look, stop trying to distract me. I need this information and you have it. Accept that I’m going to hurt you to get it.”

    “I will accept it if you promise to act purely as my jailer and tormenter from then on.”

    “You’d drop dead from exhaustion if I didn’t come here for you to trance.”

    “You shouldn’t care.”

    “I’m not giving you a choice in how I treat you.”

    “Then I suppose that you will have to accept that, if you let this relationship remain uncategorized, it will get more disorderly and convoluted with inappropriate lines being crossed,” Vaarsuvius said dryly.

    Redcloak looked up at the ceiling. “Have I told you that you’re stubborn?”

    “Yes.”

    Redcloak shook his head, remembering himself. “The names of your comrades. I want them.”

    “I won’t give them.”

    “Damn it, Vaarsuvius!”

    Redcloak stood up sharply, grabbing Vaarsuvius’s arms tightly, claws digging deep into the delicate flesh, eliciting a hastily stifled wince. “I can find out in other ways! They’re in the city! They’re not subtle in the least! Then you’ll be hurt and I’ll have the information anyway!”

    He pulled on the elf so roughly that it was forced to stand up from the bed, its only support the claws stuck in its skin, blood trickling out from the edges of the wounds they were causing.

    “Don’t be stupid about this. I don’t want to hurt you.”

    Why?! Why don’t you want to hurt me?!” Vaarsuvius squirmed, eyes burning hot with defiance. “I’m a prisoner!

    “People aren’t cans! Relationships aren’t boxes!” Redcloak shook the elf violently. “They can’t be labeled clearly all the time!”

    “But they can some of the time!” Vaarsuvius glared, chin turned up proudly. “I will not have my emotions played with and batted around as if they were a feline’s toy!”

    “Will you just cooperate for once?!” Redcloak threw the elf down on the bed roughly, glaring. “You’re still delicate! I could kill you during interrogation if I’m not careful! Why don’t you just shove your loyalty and confusion and pride in some dark corner for once?!

    “That is all I have here!” Vaarsuvius’s fists clenched on the bed and its eyes narrowed furiously. “I have made many mistakes, Redcloak. I will not add to it by betraying my comrades, even if my health or my life is on the line.”

    “We’ve all made mistakes!” Redcloak leaned down, propping himself up by his hands on either side of the elf and leaning in to glare. “Get over it and try to save yourself while you can.”

    Magic, long stagnant within the elf’s body, started shifting tangibly without form. It felt like a small tugging in Redcloak’s stomach, the scent of thyme and rosewood, magic, heavy in the air. He wasn’t worried. It was only a sign that the elf was angry and determined—harmless.

    “I refuse, Redcloak. Hurt me if you wish.”

    Redcloak’s eye flashed and he slapped the elf hard, claws ripping through the fragile skin. Vaarsuvius stifled a cry, turning its face back and glowering at Redcloak.

    “Their names. Give them to me.”

    “And allow you to use them to track down any possible family members of theirs?! I’d sooner die!”

    “Then you will!” Redcloak grabbed Vaarsuvius and tightened his grip on the elf’s arms, tearing through flesh and making blood flow. “Inflict critical wounds.”

    Vaarsuvius promptly started to scream, trying and failing to stifle it. Bones cracked inside of the tiny body. Giant wounds ripped open all over it, blood blossoming and flowing without warning. The arm that Redcloak had healed on the first night twisted and snapped in two, eliciting a shout, and the bed was stained red.

    “Give me their names!”

    At this point, Vaarsuvius seemed to decide that it was impossible to stop the screams and just focused on keeping the tears of pain in check. The elf gasped, trying to get air into lungs threatened by ribs snapping like toothpicks, and coughed, eliciting another shout of pain. It grit its teeth furiously, forcing its eyes open, and through the blood and sweat and pain, it glowered rebelliously.

    Vaarsuvius was beautiful.

    “I shall die before I betray them,” Vaarsuvius hissed, venom dripping from its voice.

    Redcloak reached out, eye cold, and gripped the broken arm, eliciting a stifled cry of pain. “I’ll give you one last chance. I want their names and any other information you can provide that would help fighting them.”

    Vaarsuvius’s glare didn’t waver. “Do what you want.”

    Redcloak’s grip tightened on the break. Vaarsuvius’s teeth clenched and its eyes flared with pain, but the defiance and pride didn’t leave.

    All at once, Redcloak closed his eye and looked up at the ceiling. “I’ve been too soft. Cure critical wounds.”

    Vaarsuvius stifled a soft groan of pain as the spell went quickly to work in fixing everything the last spell had broken, healing over the gashes, regenerating blood, and mending the snapped bones within. Redcloak let the elf’s arm go, absently running a claw through its royal purple hair. “I’ve gotten soft.”

    “Please stop confusing me.”

    “I’m confusing myself.”

    Vaarsuvius winced and there was a soft clicking sound in its torso. “You can’t toy with me and my emotions like this.”

    “It was never my intention.”

    “Your intentions are meaningless! You’re actions—”

    “You’re one to talk.” Redcloak rolled his eye. “Just shut up for once.”

    Vaarsuvius stiffened and fell into a flustered silence.

    Redcloak looked out the window, noting how dark it was. “It’s late.” He lightly ran a claw down the healing elf’s face. “Trance.”

    “I don’t know what to think anymore. I am tired of trying to make sense of it.”

    “You’ll feel better in the morning if you trance.”

    Vaarsuvius looked up at Redcloak with a weird mixture of wariness and fatigue and pride in big violet eyes, straightening out torn and bloody robes. “Are you going to leave tonight?”

    “No. You have my word.”

    “Are you going to hurt me again?”

    “Not this time.”

    Vaarsuvius was quiet for a moment. “If nothing, you have been honest with me.” The elf slowly backed into the corner, closing its eyes and slipping into a trance. Finally, thoroughly exhausted, Redcloak fell asleep as well.

    This chapter was amazing, please write the next one soon.

  27. - Top - End - #1107
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    Kaytara's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Absolutely-fricking-amazing. :D
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    My old OotS fanart
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  28. - Top - End - #1108
    Barbarian in the Playground
     
    Taekwondodo's Avatar

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    Quote Originally Posted by Water-Smurf View Post
    A comic? Really?

    You've made my week.

    Jeeze. Well, I finished the next chapter and I'm not sure how happy I am about the quality, so if you have any critique to offer, that would be very appreciated.

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    Redcloak had almost been scared to go back to the elf’s room. That brief moment of desire, of outright lust, had left him fearful and unsure. The person inside of him insisted that he had only imagined it. He was a goblin and a self-proclaimed species-ist, and had never and never would be attracted to anything but a goblin female. The scientist inside of him just shook his dispassionate head and reminded him that no person was purely one thing (except for maybe Xykon—he was pure evil) and that, seeing as he had felt such lust many times before and had acted on it many times before, he could undoubtedly say that the feeling, no matter how fleeting it was, had been no more imagined than the death of his brother.

    At the same time, both of the segments in his head agreed that there were ways this could be explained away. He could have been stressed. His brain could have misfired. It could have been the product of a stray subliminal thought. He could be worrying over nothing.

    Or he could be inviting certain disaster by continued interaction with the admittedly fascinating elf.

    Either way, he was not one to let emotion get in the way of his work. He didn’t let his eye or face betray anything about him when he opened the door.

    The elf was lying face-up on the bed, violet eyes tracing the stones on the ceiling, and glanced at its visitor. It immediately sat up. “R—”

    “We don’t need to talk if you don’t want to. Not yet.” Redcloak closed the door and slowly walked to the foot of the bed.

    “What will one night do?” Vaarsuvius ran a hand through its hair, staring up at Redcloak with a surprising lack of nervousness. “I want to know what my comrades are doing.”

    “Trying to find and save you, I guess.”

    “I want to know what you know about them. I want to know if they are okay.”

    “They’re okay enough to kill my troops.” Redcloak’s fingers twitched in his lap. “Trance, Vaarsuvius. You’re going to need to be healthy more than ever for tomorrow.”

    “Are you going to hurt me?”

    Redcloak looked up, gold eye locking with violet.

    “Please answer.”

    “…”

    Redcloak sighed, shaking his head and looking away. “If you don’t cooperate.”

    Vaarsuvius pursed its lips. “Then do not be kind to me.”

    “Are you that rigid, really?” Redcloak frowned darkly. “You’re so desperate for some sense of order and black and white decisions that you’d turn down help where it’s offered?”

    “I am not asking for order and black and white decisions. I am asking what I should think of you as!” Vaarsuvius stood up sharply, knees wobbling a little in protest. “Should I think of you as, if perhaps not a friend, a benefactor? Or should I think of you as my so-called interrogator?”

    “Why do you need to label me?” Redcloak stood up slowly, fingers twitching a little, ready to catch the elf if it fell. “I’m not interested in seeing you suffer for the sake of it. I’m not interested in you wasting away. I’m interested in furthering my goals for my species, preferably without unnecessary loss of life. You have information I want. I’m not going to stop myself from hurting you to get it. But if you’re hurt, I will help.”

    “There is no label for that!”

    “Exactly.” Redcloak sighed. “Don’t bother labeling everything in your life.”

    “I know I can’t do that.” Vaarsuvius’s eyes glazed for a very brief moment. “I have been finding that out as of late.” The elf shook off the brief daze. “But please. Don’t put up a front.”

    “I’m not putting up a front!” Redcloak frowned darkly. “Don’t assume stuff about people you don’t know. You’re my patient. A patient that I am going to harm, but a patient.”

    “I do not need a tormentor’s nursing!”

    With that, Vaarsuvius’s knees promptly buckled under the weight they didn’t want to hold. Redcloak caught the tiny elf easily, one arm under its knees and one on its upper back. The elf immediately started squirming, slamming a weak fist against his chest, barely doing anything against the hard scales underneath the cleric’s garb. “Unhand me immediately!”

    “By the Dark One, you’re stubborn.”

    “If you are my enemy, let me fall!”

    “And let you hurt yourself?”

    “If you are planning on doing it yourself, I have no idea why you would care at all!”

    “You’re my patient!”

    “And your prisoner! Let me go or I swear—”

    Neither was quite sure what happened. On later reflection, Redcloak figured he may have just been looking for a way to shut Vaarsuvius up and went with an impulse he should have examined before acting on. Impulses, desire, social interaction in stressful or unusual situations… they were all very unpredictable. Neither of them was responsible for trying to deal with these things. Or that could have just been a story he told himself and there was a completely different and more uncomfortable reason. Either way, the result was the same. One moment, they were fighting, the next, they were kissing.

    It took both of them a good minute to process what was happening. They were acting without thought, only instinct that was deeply ingrained in every single sapient species. A stray thought, yet the most immediate one, informed Redcloak that the elf was very warm. It wasn’t an overwhelming heat, like direct sunlight hitting the same place for hours, but it was more like warmth from the sun that peaked briefly from between clouds during an otherwise cold day. Soft. Steady. Pleasant. Far from golblinoid.

    The elf made small fists against the goblin’s chest, navigating past the tusks with slight difficulty but slipping into a position that allowed better access. Redcloak’s brain started catching on to what was happening slowly, trying to hold on to the edge of his sanity and drag it back to the forefront, trying to impart that this wasn’t a really, really crazy dream.

    The elf made a gentle sound in the back of its throat. Maybe it was supposed to be a word. The Dark One only knew. Redcloak felt awareness slowly filtering back in his brain. He was kissing an elf. He was kissing Vaarsuvius. He should stop. He should really stop. He didn’t want to do this.

    “Stop,” Vaarsuvius said softly, parting their lips. It was the first to pull away, eyes wide. With that little word, the spell broke.

    Redcloak stiffened, gold eyes glowing a little brighter. Vaarsuvius averted its gaze, silenced for once. A weird sense of awkwardness, fear, and something neither were brave enough to try to name hung in the air. Redcloak slowly put the elf on the bed and turned away. Claws scraping against the ground, he left.

    He didn’t come back that night.

    ---

    “Jirix.”

    Jirix looked up from staring out of the giant hole in the tower, turning to see Redcloak, obviously back from appraising the troops. “Have either of the parties gotten through the illusions?”

    “Not yet, sir. They’re all completely lost. But the spell caster in the elven party is catching on and starting to try to undo the spells and it looks like the adventurers are trying to think of ways to see past the illusions.”

    “Good.” Redcloak stared up at the dark night sky through the giant gap, frowning, the gentle glow of the Snarl tinting the very air.

    “Sir, the prisoner should be interrogated soon, if you don’t mind my saying.”

    “I know.”

    There was an awkward silence.

    “Would you like me to do it, sir?”

    “No.”

    Jirix didn’t press the point. Anyone who knew about the presence of the elf knew that their Supreme Leader had been sleeping with her (or was it a he?) since she had been captured. Jirix wasn’t quite sure how comfortable he was with the idea that his leader was sleeping with an elven prisoner, and even less so when the possibility of force or coercion was put into play, but he wasn’t one to judge. If his leader didn’t want to interrogate his lover, it was perfectly understandable.

    But Jirix couldn’t help but admire the fact that his leader was willing to face the situation he had knowingly put himself in.

    “Savages. Dishonorable… please, let me take the elf’s place,” the paladin said for perhaps the millionth time since they took the elf away. No one had probably told him that he was in much worse shape accommodations-wise than the elf.

    “Will you stop that? It’s really starting to get old.” Redcloak distractedly waved a hand. “Jirix, get as many more illusions out there as you can. Make mazes, make monsters, make rabbits, I don’t care. Just as long as it’ll slow them down.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    “If you can capture any of the elves or an adventurer that looks like he’s be a little looser-tongued, keep them in the dungeon and tell me. I’ll handle it.” Redcloak paused for a moment. “And don’t bother me while I’m interrogating. I have a feeling that this is going to take a while.” He turned around, gaze still rather distant, and left the room, going immediately to the door with the gold ring.

    Vaarsuvius looked up sharply, a raven on the tiny shoulder—the elf’s familiar—popping out of view with an angry caw.

    Redcloak was tempted to avert his eye, but he kept his gaze steady. He pulled up a chair to the bed slowly, sitting down and crossing his legs. “We’re going to start this slowly.”

    The elf stared at him, millions of emotions flashing through big violet eyes.

    “Where is your village?”

    “I…” Vaarsuvius still looked rather distracted and conflicted. “I would prefer not imparting that information.”

    “I won’t tell Xykon. Your home will be safe for now.”

    “You wouldn’t know it. It is secluded in the elven forests—few elven allies even know of it.”

    Redcloak paused, frowning a little. “We’ll get back to this.” He tapped his claws together, making a small clicking sound. Vaarsuvius frowned suspiciously. “I want to see your familiar.”

    The raven remained invisible and Vaarsuvius only narrowed violet eyes stubbornly. “I am not about to let you hurt him.”

    Redcloak stayed leaning back, gold eye resting coolly on the elf. “I won’t hurt him. If anything, I’ll hurt you.”

    Vaarsuvius stifled a small flinch, glare darkening and lips pursing.

    “Vaarsuvius, I don’t want to cut you again. Show your familiar and let him decide, if you want.”

    The elf held Redcloak’s gaze grimly, eyes flicking down very briefly to see the goblin claws gleaming. “…Very well.”

    A raven popped into view on the elf’s shoulder, making little sounds at the back of its throat.

    Redcloak slowly held out a clawed hand, clicking his nails together. “Well, then. You can either fly to me and this will go smoothly, or you can try to fly into the corner or something and I will be forced to hurt your master until you come down.”

    The bird didn’t hesitate.

    “Blackwing, don—”

    The familiar—Blackwing—completely ignored his master and flew to Redcloak’s hand, glaring in a way only ravens could. Vaarsuvius stiffened but didn’t move to touch Redcloak.

    Redcloak raised one hand and ran a claw down the raven’s wing, examining him closely for any signs of trying to break through his boundary spells. A few feathers were slightly singed—obviously, he had tried—but none were burnt enough to say the he had been able to actually get through them. Satisfied, Redcloak made a slight gesture with his hand and the raven flew off, disappearing again.

    “Why have you not hurt me yet?”

    “I’m not going to be eager to slap you around.” Redcloak looked the elf up and down, avoiding its eyes. It was obvious that it hadn’t tranced the night before.

    “Why won’t you present yourself in a consistent manner?!” Vaarsuvius’s fists curled up tightly and the violet eyes blazed defiantly.

    “This is an interrogation. Act like it or I’ll force you to calm down.” Redcloak shifted and tapped his claws together. “I’m going to ask you about the Order of the Stick. This time, I’m not going to leave it up to my claws to do the hurting.”

    Vaarsuvius glared darkly, staying sullenly silent for a few seconds. “I will not betray them.”

    “I don’t expect you to. I expect you to feed me a bunch of bogus information, then eventually give me as little hard truth as possible when I call you out on your lies and torture you even more because you, like every other wizard, probably used Charisma as a dump stat.”

    Vaarsuvius was silent.

    “I don’t want to hurt you, Vaarsuvius. I will if I have to.”

    “Then please try to explain something to me.”

    Redcloak frowned, shifting uncomfortably, instinctively knowing what subject was about to come up. “Yes?”

    “As embarrassing as it is for both of us, it happened. Why?”

    Redcloak had no problem understanding the elf. He also recognized the obvious stalling tactic—Vaarsuvius was probably even less eager to acknowledge it than he was—but he went along with it. “I don’t know.”

    “One of us must! People don’t do things for no reason!”

    “One of these days, you’re going to have to accept that not everything is logical.” Redcloak averted his gaze. “Just pretend that it didn’t happen.”

    “But it did happen.”

    “I know. You know. Doesn’t mean we need to acknowledge it.”

    “But you…” Vaarsuvius shook its head, hair looking a little more wild than usual. “First, you carry me to make sure I do not get hurt. Then you threaten me. Then you make sure I eat, and you start sleeping in my room to make sure I can trance. Then you give me milk to help my disturbances, completely without solicitation. You show compassion and kindness. Then you hurl me against the wall, slap me numerous times, and make me bleed. Then you heal me. Then you tell me that you will hurt me again. Then you kiss me. Tell me what I am supposed to make of you!” Vaarsuvius stood up from the bed, muscles tense, legs wobbling a little.

    “Get back into your bed or I’ll have to catch you again, and the Dark One knows what will happen this time.”

    Vaarsuvius quickly sat back down. “I need to know what to make of you.”

    “I don’t know what to make of myself.” Redcloak rubbed his temples. “Look, don’t do this. I’m about to get very violent with you and I’d prefer not to get into this kind of conversation beforehand.”

    “If I can deal with this confusion, you can deal with guilt!”

    Redcloak scowled a little at the snappish retort.

    “If you are going to hurt me, at least do me the courtesy of being consistent! I do not know if you are kind, cruel, or… or something else that I cannot think of a word for at the moment!”

    “You’re getting flustered.”

    “Of course I’m flustered! In the last few days, you have alternated dramatically between helping me fall asleep, beating me until I bleed, and… and kissing me all in quick succession!”

    Redcloak sighed softly in his head. He might as well get the elf to stop talking. It wasn’t as if any more damage could possibly be done.

    “I need you to—”

    Vaarsuvius didn’t complete its sentence. The likely reason was because it was difficult to keep speaking when lips were pressed against its own.

    Redcloak pulled away before going far, leaving Vaarsuvius effectively mute. He was glad to note that he didn’t feel anything from the peck. He could use it as a tool if he needed to. “Alright, then. I’m going to ask you about your party. You’re going to answer my questions.”

    Vaarsuvius nodded numbly.

    “I want to know their full names.”

    “You know most of them. The others are travelers and you would therefore gain nothing from their names.”

    “Just answer.”

    “Very well. You wish to know their names and that is useless information. That is my answer.”

    Redcloak paused for a moment. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

    “I have given you my answer.”

    Redcloak raised his hand, spreading his fingers and brandishing his shining claws. Vaarsuvius leaned forward, taking his face in cool pale hands, and kissed him softly.

    Redcloak promptly froze, slowly lowering his hand and resting it lightly on the elf’s waist. The kiss was polite, chaste, warm. Redcloak’s throat closed up a little. A weird mix of fear and something else he didn’t care to name clenched his chest. For some weird reason, he was more shocked by this than any other time. The first could be explained away as impulse. The second time it was a tool he used. This time, it was a tool being used against him. And it was working.

    Damn it.

    Alright, then. This was the part where he closed the door they had opened up.

    “Stop it.” Redcloak pushed Vaarsuvius away, frowning darkly. “I don’t appreciate being manipulated.”

    “Neither do I and yet you did the same.” Vaarsuvius scowled a little and crossed its arms.

    “Then we both should stop. I’m your jailer and you’re my prisoner, or I’m your medic and you’re my patient, or whatever our relationship is classified as at this point. Either way, the power balance is unequal and physical relations are completely inappropriate.”

    “I agree.” Vaarsuvius arched an eyebrow. “I also think that it is inappropriate for a medic to beat their patient or a jailer to nurse their prisoner.”

    “Here we go again.” Redcloak shook his head. “Look, stop trying to distract me. I need this information and you have it. Accept that I’m going to hurt you to get it.”

    “I will accept it if you promise to act purely as my jailer and tormenter from then on.”

    “You’d drop dead from exhaustion if I didn’t come here for you to trance.”

    “You shouldn’t care.”

    “I’m not giving you a choice in how I treat you.”

    “Then I suppose that you will have to accept that, if you let this relationship remain uncategorized, it will get more disorderly and convoluted with inappropriate lines being crossed,” Vaarsuvius said dryly.

    Redcloak looked up at the ceiling. “Have I told you that you’re stubborn?”

    “Yes.”

    Redcloak shook his head, remembering himself. “The names of your comrades. I want them.”

    “I won’t give them.”

    “Damn it, Vaarsuvius!”

    Redcloak stood up sharply, grabbing Vaarsuvius’s arms tightly, claws digging deep into the delicate flesh, eliciting a hastily stifled wince. “I can find out in other ways! They’re in the city! They’re not subtle in the least! Then you’ll be hurt and I’ll have the information anyway!”

    He pulled on the elf so roughly that it was forced to stand up from the bed, its only support the claws stuck in its skin, blood trickling out from the edges of the wounds they were causing.

    “Don’t be stupid about this. I don’t want to hurt you.”

    Why?! Why don’t you want to hurt me?!” Vaarsuvius squirmed, eyes burning hot with defiance. “I’m a prisoner!

    “People aren’t cans! Relationships aren’t boxes!” Redcloak shook the elf violently. “They can’t be labeled clearly all the time!”

    “But they can some of the time!” Vaarsuvius glared, chin turned up proudly. “I will not have my emotions played with and batted around as if they were a feline’s toy!”

    “Will you just cooperate for once?!” Redcloak threw the elf down on the bed roughly, glaring. “You’re still delicate! I could kill you during interrogation if I’m not careful! Why don’t you just shove your loyalty and confusion and pride in some dark corner for once?!

    “That is all I have here!” Vaarsuvius’s fists clenched on the bed and its eyes narrowed furiously. “I have made many mistakes, Redcloak. I will not add to it by betraying my comrades, even if my health or my life is on the line.”

    “We’ve all made mistakes!” Redcloak leaned down, propping himself up by his hands on either side of the elf and leaning in to glare. “Get over it and try to save yourself while you can.”

    Magic, long stagnant within the elf’s body, started shifting tangibly without form. It felt like a small tugging in Redcloak’s stomach, the scent of thyme and rosewood, magic, heavy in the air. He wasn’t worried. It was only a sign that the elf was angry and determined—harmless.

    “I refuse, Redcloak. Hurt me if you wish.”

    Redcloak’s eye flashed and he slapped the elf hard, claws ripping through the fragile skin. Vaarsuvius stifled a cry, turning its face back and glowering at Redcloak.

    “Their names. Give them to me.”

    “And allow you to use them to track down any possible family members of theirs?! I’d sooner die!”

    “Then you will!” Redcloak grabbed Vaarsuvius and tightened his grip on the elf’s arms, tearing through flesh and making blood flow. “Inflict critical wounds.”

    Vaarsuvius promptly started to scream, trying and failing to stifle it. Bones cracked inside of the tiny body. Giant wounds ripped open all over it, blood blossoming and flowing without warning. The arm that Redcloak had healed on the first night twisted and snapped in two, eliciting a shout, and the bed was stained red.

    “Give me their names!”

    At this point, Vaarsuvius seemed to decide that it was impossible to stop the screams and just focused on keeping the tears of pain in check. The elf gasped, trying to get air into lungs threatened by ribs snapping like toothpicks, and coughed, eliciting another shout of pain. It grit its teeth furiously, forcing its eyes open, and through the blood and sweat and pain, it glowered rebelliously.

    Vaarsuvius was beautiful.

    “I shall die before I betray them,” Vaarsuvius hissed, venom dripping from its voice.

    Redcloak reached out, eye cold, and gripped the broken arm, eliciting a stifled cry of pain. “I’ll give you one last chance. I want their names and any other information you can provide that would help fighting them.”

    Vaarsuvius’s glare didn’t waver. “Do what you want.”

    Redcloak’s grip tightened on the break. Vaarsuvius’s teeth clenched and its eyes flared with pain, but the defiance and pride didn’t leave.

    All at once, Redcloak closed his eye and looked up at the ceiling. “I’ve been too soft. Cure critical wounds.”

    Vaarsuvius stifled a soft groan of pain as the spell went quickly to work in fixing everything the last spell had broken, healing over the gashes, regenerating blood, and mending the snapped bones within. Redcloak let the elf’s arm go, absently running a claw through its royal purple hair. “I’ve gotten soft.”

    “Please stop confusing me.”

    “I’m confusing myself.”

    Vaarsuvius winced and there was a soft clicking sound in its torso. “You can’t toy with me and my emotions like this.”

    “It was never my intention.”

    “Your intentions are meaningless! Your actions—”

    “You’re one to talk.” Redcloak rolled his eye. “Just shut up for once.”

    Vaarsuvius stiffened and fell into a flustered silence.

    Redcloak looked out the window, noting how dark it was. “It’s late.” He lightly ran a claw down the healing elf’s face. “Trance.”

    “I don’t know what to think anymore. I am tired of trying to make sense of it.”

    “You’ll feel better in the morning if you trance.”

    Vaarsuvius looked up at Redcloak with a weird mixture of wariness and fatigue and pride in big violet eyes, straightening out torn and bloody robes. “Are you going to leave tonight?”

    “No. You have my word.”

    “Are you going to hurt me again?”

    “Not this time.”

    Vaarsuvius was quiet for a moment. “If nothing, you have been honest with me.” The elf slowly backed into the corner, closing its eyes and slipping into a trance. Finally, thoroughly exhausted, Redcloak fell asleep as well.
    I second Kaytara. I especially loved the line "something neither were brave enough to try to name hung in the air".

    Thanks for the info about encounters (I can't remember exactly what I was looking for now) I guess I could say something about level appropriateness...
    Last edited by Taekwondodo; 2009-09-05 at 08:56 AM.
    Avatar by me...yup that's how good my drawing is. As in not very good.

    Crack-Pairings, Not Dead Just Moved. Someone Hasn't Been Looking In The Right Places.


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    Quote Originally Posted by Caleniel View Post
    Taekwondodo - your nick and your avatar are terrific. I want to award you something... how about enough melons to see you through the next ice age?

  29. - Top - End - #1109
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    Saeyan's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    Quote Originally Posted by Kaytara View Post
    Absolutely-fricking-amazing. :D
    Repeating myself, but anyway, +1 (again).

    By the way, quick poll: Which style of drawing, out of my previous four posts, do you think works best? I've been having troubles in terms of art direction for all my non-painting works recently and I'd like to pick a style to focus on for a while.

  30. - Top - End - #1110
    Dwarf in the Playground
     
    Thor Person Guy's Avatar

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    Default Re: Crack Pairings Matchup Table

    ...Okay, I can't hold my curiosity in any longer: What would happen if one of the admins/moderators/whatever stumbled onto this thread?
    Avatar by Zanaril

    ...I feel ignored.

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