Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Tales of (insert version) charaters, etc.
With that out of the way, let the "story" begin. . .
It was a peaceful day on an island. The sun was out, the waves were perfect, and--
"Hey. You. Get over here."
The day was ruined.
The random foot soldier that had been beckoned sighed. Why was he always interrupted DURING LUNCH, while staring out the window at the beautiful sea? He trudged up to the ever-imposing control room.
"I have a job for you. Mess this one up, and you will die."
It was a cold day outside of the Iselia Ranch. The nameless Island soldier moved his fingers to and fro. They were already going numb.
"You must be the messenger. Follow me."
Why did EVERYONE order him around?
He followed his escort into the ranch, past several ill-placed vending machines (one of which sold hot tea), down the stairs, under some odd-looking railings (a couple of which had mistletoe tied to them), through several halls, and right outside of a rather plain door. The soldier with the whip that had led him through the confusing maze of halls excused himself.
The soldier-who-was-not-from-Iselia (this is getting hard to type; let's just call him Hal) knocked on the door. Nothing happened. Something throbbed terribly in his right hand. He looked down. He'd broken two of his fingers whilst knocking on the door.
Hal's screaming was the inspiration for many Halloween ghost stories in Iselia. But that is another tale.
"How many times do I have to tell you NOT to molest the Spearmen?" The door opened, but Hal's eyes were shut tight, mostly to prevent the tears from flowing.
"Who are you? What the hell?! SOMEONE, GET HIM TO THE INFIRMIRY!" Footsteps echoed around him. He found himself being led--
--straight into a wall.
"You. Are. All. DISMISSED!" More footsteps echoed around Hal.
Someone grabbed his arm and half-dragged him some distance. Hal's leader abruptly stopped.
"This is NOT a light show! Turn those things off RIGHT NOW!!"
Hal found himself being dragged some more. Again, he was roughly stopped.
"What do you mean off-line?! I've got someone from the Remote Island Ranch with a broken hand! Let me in!!" The silence that followed was deafening.
"I AM your boss! Don't make me break the door down!!" Hal heard the hiss of a door. He stumbled in. Someone yanked his hands apart.
"Is that your boo-boo? Let me see, let me see. . .ah, that's nuttin!" Hal's voice jumped several octaves as the nameless voice jerked his broken fingers to and fro.
"That should be all better. Now just hold still, and. . ." The pain slowly dissipated.
"Now, move your fingers, move your fingers. . .pretend you're playing a big piano. . .ah, PERFECT!" Hal opened his eyes. His fingers were back to normal! He looked around. Who had--
"Down here, buster!" Hal's eyes dropped. The figure that stood in front of him stood as tall as his chest. Bright eyes shone out from under heavy brows.
"Er. . .thanks," Hal mumbled to the dwarf. The dwarf laughed heartily.
"No problem, no problem! If you have any more boo-boos, let me know!" Hal coughed as the dwarf slapped him HARD on the back. What kind of Ranch was this?
Hal wandered outside, dazed. He wasn't used to being healed like that! He turned a corner, past some rather odd-looking red curtains, and--
"I SAID TURN IT OFF!" Hal gulped hard. The figure that had yelled that order had one eye and one-and-a-half arms. The remaining half an arm had been turned into something big and metal. The red curtains disappeared.
"I'm glad to see that you're not hurt." Despite the missing body parts, the half-elf in front of him smiled warmly.
"How do you change your shirt?" Hal blurted, before he could stop himself. The half-elf buried his head in his hand.
"It's detachable," came the exasperated response.
"Wow. . .that's really cool!" Hal looked up, just in time to see a squad of Iselian soldiers staring back at him, in utter shock.
"How could you say that to Lord Forcystus?" one of them stammered out.
Hal blinked. The girl-faced dude in front of him was in charge of the Iselia Ranch? One of Forcystus' eyebrows went up.
"This from the soldier that keeps making one-armed bandit jokes about me?" The soldiers went pale. Hal gulped. If anyone even thought of making a snide comment about HIS boss, they'd be fish food!
"As long as all of you follow orders when necessary, I don't mind." The soldiers breathed a collective sigh of relief. Hal silently wondered how he could get himself transferred to THIS Ranch.
"You are from the Remote Island Ranch, correct? We'll speak more in my office." Hal followed the odd half-elf down several more corridors. How could anyone walk through here without getting lost?
Forcystus' "office" was taken up mostly by paper. Would any of those stacks come alive and beat him up?
"So. . .what was so important that Rodyle needed to send a messenger?" Hal fumbled out the envelope he was given. Lord Rodyle had told him that the envelope must make it over to the snot-nosed brat in Iselia. The "snot-nosed brat in Iselia" read the contents of the envelope. His brow furrowed. He read it again. Then he sighed.
"If it wasn't at Lord Ygddrasil's insistence. . .I wonder what this "Christmas" thing is supposed to be about. Ah, well, it is not my place to ask. You will be staying here to report the results to that hawk-nosed old geezer." Hal fell out of his chair. NO ONE called Lord Rodyle that!
"Inhumane as ever, I see. If you need to contact Rodyle, use the wall panel behind you." The one in charge of Iselia's Ranch left. Hal gingerly picked himself off the ground and delicately made his way to the wall panel in question.
"WHAT?" came the cranky response. Hal shook in fear. Did he just make a mistake? The person at the other end was a female half-elf.
"Is-is Lord Rodyle there?" Hal stammered out. The woman's eyes narrowed.
"This had better be a crank call, or else." The screen went blank. Hal took a closer look at the button he'd pressed. It said, "Pronyma". "Hawk-nosed old geezer" was next to that button.
"WHAT?!" came the familiar, cranky response. It was his boss.
"Sir, this is the faceless soldier you sent to Iselia. On Lord Forcystus' orders, I am to stay here. Is that acceptable?" Lord Rodyle's face crinkled in anger.
"YOU CAN STAY THERE FOR ALL ETERNITY, IF YOU WANT! LEAVE ME ALONE!!" The screen went blank.
Hal was more than content to stay where he was for all eternity.
Hal found himself to be the designated soldier to get food from Iselia. Hal was not sure of the function of one of the village's buildings; he heard school lessons and buzzsaws going on in the same room. Perhaps that building was a school and a lumberyard?
The people of Iselia were as courteous as they needed to be, nothing more. The store owner (who sold everything except for hot tea) was too stiff for Hal's liking. On the occasions that another soldier was sent to accompany him, Hal noticed that the store owner became even more stiff. Had some of the other soldiers "convinced" this store owner to do business with them?
During those times he was at the Ranch, Hal found himself absolutely amazed at what the Iselian soldiers could get away with. Several of them joked about the Big Boss (and on more than one occasion, said Big Boss was in earshot of those jokes), several more worked well beyond their shift, and several more than that were willing to take on work that wasn't in their job description. Every now and then, Hal would see Lord Forcystus himself help out with some of the more menial jobs. More than once during the day, Hal pinched himself to make sure that he wasn't dreaming.
Hal wasn't sure what he was supposed to be observing. Other than the unusual amount of food he'd been asked to order, and the large sign that counted down the days to December 25 (which had gotten the label of "Christmas"), nothing seemed out of the ordinary. What was so special about that day? And why were there pretty red curtains circling around him?
"TURN THAT OFF!" The red curtains disappeared. Hal swore he heard a female giggle. Lord Forcystus had his gun-arm aimed upwards.
"That new mechanic is more trouble than she's worth," Forcystus muttered.
"What are those red curtains?" Hal asked no one in particular.
"They are a security measure, in the event that the prisoners somehow escape their confines," Forcystus explaind, patiently.
Hal had never been to the cell blocks. His assignments were always on the other side of the Ranch. From what he'd heard, the treatment of the prisoners here was just slightly more humane than what Rodyle did with his lot.
A door slid open, breaking Hal's train of thoughts (what was a train?) A malnourished girl in a plain dress poked her head and part of her body out of the doorway. Forcystus had his gun-arm aimed at her.
"EEEP!" came the startled girl's shriek, as her head quickly disappeared into the doorway.
"GET BACK HERE!" Forcystus yelled, as he chased her into the doorway.
Hal suddenly felt the urge to go back to his quarters.
It was the night before December 25. Hal's assignment had taken him to the kitchens. The entire kitchen smelled like dinner. One of the cooks shoved a cart into his hands, and motioned for him to follow another soldier. Hal's guide led him through an unfamiliar portion of the base. The last set of doors opened. Hal's jaw hit the ground.
All the prisoners were dressed neatly in somewhat-new clothes. Most of them had wet hair. The usual stench of unwashed bodies was not in the air. The front of the prison was crowded with humans, no doubt curious about the contents of the carts.
Lord Forcystus entered the room, dressed as usual. Some of the prisoners cringed. Others blinked. One young-looking female blushed.
Out of curiosity, Hal took a peek inside one of the containers on his cart. It looked--
Hal's vision vanished. The air smelled of vaporized organic material. Something cool rested against his cheek. No, it wasn't cool. It was. . .
"HOT!!!!!" Hal screamed, as he threw off his helmet. The burning piece of food that had somehow made it to his face fell to the ground. Hal gingerly touched himself where the offending piece of food had landed. He'd have a nice mark on his face for a while.
Giggles went through the room. Hal had enough wit about him to realize that Lord Forcystus wasn't giggling. The Iselian Ranch overseer looked as angry as Rodyle on a bad day.
"This is NOT what I asked the cooks to make! Tell them to do it right, or I will have THEM served to the prisoners for dinner!!!" Several of the prisoners stepped back in fear. Forcystus turned to them.
"I do not consider a bush baby tail to be part of a good dinner," the one-and-a-half-armed cardinal explained. The prisoners blinked, in confusion. Was there some sort of reason why their oppressor was suddenly being. . .nice?
Forcystus suddenly grabbed Hal's arm. "You. Are coming with me." Hal was dragged out of the room, amidst a few nervous giggles.
Once in the hallway, Hal was roughly pushed up against a wall. Forcystus' eye narrowed.
"It's not a serious burn, but it looks like it will sting for a while. Are you able to continue working?" Hal nodded, mutely. Did this half-elf have a split personality? And why were those pretty red curtains--
"DIDN'T I TELL YOU TO TURN IT OFF?!" Forcystus yelled. The red curtains disappeared. A rock landed next to Hal. Out of habit, Hal picked it up. A note was tied to the rock. Forcystus relieved Hal of the rock before the latter realized what he was holding.
"This had better be good--huh? A wandering bush baby in the Ranch? THAT'S what this was all about?" Forcystus examined a bit of ground out of Hal's vision. Hal turned his head, carefully. The remains of what appeared to be a bush baby smoldered on the ground. However, most bush babies didn't have a metallic stench upon vaporization.
A nearby door opened. The malnourished girl appeared again. She poked around at the remains of the metal-smelling bush baby. She picked out a small square of metal. She looked at it, quizzically.
"If that is what I think it is, analyze it, and tell me about it tomorrow." The girl smiled and nodded. Forcystus turned and left. Hal stared at the girl. The girl stared back.
"Were you trying to--" Hal started to say.
"You pretend I don't exist, and I'll pretend that I didn't notice a bush baby camera following you around the base," the girl said, sweetly. She vanished into the door she came out of.
Hal made his way back to the kitchen. He still had work to do.
Hal came back down the hallway where the bush baby camera had met its untimely demise. He had a cart from the kitchens to deliver (again). This time, he hoped the food didn't make it past his helmet. Hal's vision went red.
The cart in front of him exploded. Food flew at every angle imaginable, including. . .
"NOT THERE!!!" Hal screamed, several octaves higher.
"Sorry 'bout that!" came a girl's voice, from above.
Hal curled into a ball and whimpered. This wasn't fair! What if he had plans to raise a family? How could he do it if--
"Are you okay?" the girl's voice asked, right above him.
Hal's response was a sob.
"I hit the wrong switch. I apologize." The girl's voice did not change pitch during her explanation.
"Minicoids? On the cart that was destroyed? Good work," came a familiar voice.
"Th-thank you, sir," the girl replied.
"Get that poor soldier to the infirmiry," came the next response.
Hal felt himself being pulled to his feet. He wasn't sure who did it, because his eyes were shut. Again.
Somehow, Hal limped through the corridors, to the infirmiry.
"Well. . .it seems that no one is here. It looks like I'm going to have to take care of you," the girl who had tried to castrate him said, levelly.
Hal screamed.
Hal woke up in the infirmiry. He tested his limbs to make sure they were all intact. He tentatively swung his legs off the bed. His body felt. . .fine?
"Good morning, sir. You have a call from one Lord Rodyle." It was the girl from last night. This time, she wore a red ribbon around her neck. She excused herself before she bothered to explain the presence of a ribbon.
The device next to him lit up. The all-too-familiar visage of Lord Rodyle appeared.
"So. . .not only do you COMPLETELY humiliate the Remote Island Ranch by becoming a messenger for the brat that runs that backwater ranch, you SOMEHOW managed to destroy the surveillance device that was sent there to be your backup."
"My. . .backup?"
"YES!!! Didn't you read the orders in the envelope?"
"The one I was supposed to give to Lord Forcystus?"
"YOU IDIOT!! THERE WERE TWO MESSAGES IN THE ENVELOPE!!!"
"Oh."
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, OH? DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT THE IMPLICATIONS ARE?!"
"Why yes, of course," came an unseen female voice. Hal looked behind him.
A creepy-looking half-elf woman stood behind him. She was wearing far too little for Hal's tastes. Beside her stood Lord Forcystus, grinning like a kid.
"Because of your meddling, the Exspheres that were harvested this time around were smaller. However, they are perfect for gracing the back of a lady's hand. Therefore, I have decided that your mischief will be reported as a blind experiment that could only be conducted at the Iselia Ranch, because they were the only ones who could scrape together enough supplies for a "Christmas" dinner. . .whatever "Christmas" is." The half-elf woman smile sent bad shivers up Hal's spine. The shivers got worse when she turned to Hal.
"As for you. . .you are to stay here until all the prisoners who received the "Christmas" dinner have their Exspheres harvested. A couple of the prisoners have been here for less than a week; therefore I hope you do not mind spending a long time here." The half-elven woman turned gracefully and left. Hal wasn't sure what to say.
"Well, you hawk-nosed old geezer, it looks like your plan to take over my Ranch has been foiled. But I won't let this affect the relationship between our two Ranches too much." Forcystus smirked. Hal resisted the urge to do the same. Lord Rodyle ended the conversation with a few words that Hal didn't care to repeat.
"Welcome to the Iselia Ranch. . Hal." Hal smiled. Was this "Christmas"?
Hal was lost. Again. It would take a very long time before he would be able to find his way around the ranch. One of the doors was slightly ajar. Light poured out from the crack.
". . .though the images were being simultaneously transmitted to the Remote Island Ranch, it seems that the best blackmail material that Rodyle got was from the women's showers," a female voice said.
"I see. What is the status of the progress log?" Forcystus' voice asked.
"Rodyle's little bush baby helped me to fill in the holes in the log. It should be complete and ready for publishing within a couple of days."
"Good. If there were any discontinuities--"
"I know, I know. I do not want to see you turned into a blonde girl with a passion for naming dogs, Lord Forcystus. Good night." Was that giggle from. . .no, it couldn't be. . .
"Hmm? What are you doing here?" The girl peered at Hal through her glasses. This time, she wore a conservative business suit.
"I was just going back to my room," Hal said, nervously.
"Good grief. . .more work. . ." The girl took out a paper and pen, and began writing. A page slipped from out of her grasp.
"He followed his escort into the ranch, past several ill-placed vending machines (one of which sold hot tea), down the stairs, under some odd-looking railings (a couple of which had mistletoe tied to them), through several halls," Hal read aloud.
"NO!" the girl screamed, as she snatched the paper from his hands.
"Are you. . .writing everything I'm thinking down?" Hal asked her.
"I. . .ah. . ."
"Hal, she's the authoress," Forcystus said, from the doorway.
"Good grief, not a shameless self-insertion!"
"Does this girl look attractive, Hal? I don't think so! And before that thought crosses your mind, I'M STRAIGHT!" The only Grand Cardinal present took a deep breath.
"No, it's not that--" Hal started to say.
"STOP IT!!" the girl screamed. She wiped a tear away with a grimy hand.
"Miss, all I wanted to tell you is that my name is Buddy, not Hal." An awkward moment passed. It was followed by another awkward moment.
"Ah. . .whoops?"
"Whoops? Now I'm a Hal?! Because of you?!"
"Mele Kalikimaka?"
"What. The. Hell?" both men said simultaneously.
"It means 'Merry Christmas'. Please, cooperate, and let this thing end!"
"Bah, humbug," Forcystus muttered.
Author's notes:
It's 11:00 here in Hawaii on December 25, so it IS a Christmas fic! Boing!!
I've never had a fic unravel quite like that. . .and this is the FIRST time I've had one of my characters tell me that I had screwed up his name. . .and I've always wanted a fic where the characters rebel against the obviously self-inserted author(ess). . .so in a way, this was a Christmas gift for me. . .sorry, folks.
The title "Christmas in Iselia" was based off of a song called "Christmas in the Islands". . .but I couldn't think of anything funny about the Remote Island Ranch.
I'm sorry I didn't mention any of the main Tales characters. I much prefer poking fun at the villains.
So. . .Mele Kalikimaka, and DON'T KILL ME!