Ah, it's good to be home.
Raven Firedragon: Elves who say Ni . . . there's no hope for you, is there? More? You want more? Don't I do enough for you already . . .
Pointy Ears Are My Thing: Yes, I read all the reviews. Unfortunately, sodid the Raven, and she's not happy with your comment about her eyes. And no, Raven is the annoying girl, not you.
StarlightWarrior: Yeah, well, Miss Cam is wonderful. She gave me a small firey evil demon, I just *have* to adopt her terms. Plus they're useful. Aiee! A Mary-Sue! A Mary-Sue is come! (But who invented the Mary-Sue? This could be an exciting research project for your holidays!)
Uh . . . oh, I remember. A story. Is that what you want? Yes? Then I'll hand you over to the cast . . .
Warrior: So, Great One, have you decided on a plan of action yet?
Reaper: Warrior, I'm *warning* you . . .
Warrior: Oh, come on Reaper, it was only a joke.
Raven: Enough. Much as I appreciate you two fighting over me, this is not the time.
Reaper/Warrior: Yes, Raven.
Raven: Good. We're going for scenario C. Reaper, you're with me. Warrior, go and find Huntress. She'll tell you what to do.
* * * *
The Chancellor of Germany was seated in his office. Spread out on the desk before him were still more reports on this army that had taken over the USA and the UK. Now, personally he had no problem with this, having never gotten on with the leaders of those nations, but his country demanded action.
Reaching across the desk, he lifted the phone that was hardwired to the office of his French counterpart. Putting it to his ear, he heard . . . nothing. No dial tone, nothing. Puzzled, he replaced the handset and was about to pick it up again when the ceiling collapsed.
As the dust cleared he saw, under the hole that had appeared, a group consisting of five men with long blonde hair, one with short, brown and very dirty hair, and a girl with flowing golden locks. One of the blonde clones stepped forward, and the Chancellor, shocked but still remaining calm, asked, "Wer bist du?"
The elf looked back at the rest of the strike team, puzzled. Boromir and the other four elves were equally confused, but Sarah supplied, "He asked who you are. But don't worry, he understands English. Just address him in that. If you aren't sure of a word, just ask me or Boromir."
The elf – whose name Boromir couldn't recall at this time – turned back to the bemused Chancellor.
"I'm glad you asked me that. We are the elves who say. . . Ni!" The elf paused as the other four echoed his last word. When they were finally silent, he continued. "If you do not come with us, we will say 'Ni' again, until you beg for mercy!"
The Chancellor just stared. Sarah reached out and grabbed the elf by his collar. "You've been watching the Raven's old videos again, haven't you?" she hissed. The elf nodded mutely. "Well, just stick to the plan," she continued. He nodded once again, and turned back to his target.
Mr. Chancellor, you are charged with being an ineffectual tool of a useless regime. As such, you will be delivered to the Elvish Inquisition for interrogation. Their main weapon is –"
"Just shoot him, please," interrupted Sarah. The elf sighed, then pulled out his bow, set an arrow and shot the Chancellor.
The last thing the man saw before the poison claimed his life was the girl raising a radio to her lips. The last thing he felt was a strange relief that the blonde man – elf - *thing* - had shot him rather than delivering him to their strange Inquisition. He had a strange feeling comfy chairs would have been involved . . .
* * * *
Well, that's that. Did anyone spot the Monty Python references? They're hidden pretty deep.
Reviews make me happy . . .
hS
Raven Firedragon: Elves who say Ni . . . there's no hope for you, is there? More? You want more? Don't I do enough for you already . . .
Pointy Ears Are My Thing: Yes, I read all the reviews. Unfortunately, sodid the Raven, and she's not happy with your comment about her eyes. And no, Raven is the annoying girl, not you.
StarlightWarrior: Yeah, well, Miss Cam is wonderful. She gave me a small firey evil demon, I just *have* to adopt her terms. Plus they're useful. Aiee! A Mary-Sue! A Mary-Sue is come! (But who invented the Mary-Sue? This could be an exciting research project for your holidays!)
Uh . . . oh, I remember. A story. Is that what you want? Yes? Then I'll hand you over to the cast . . .
Warrior: So, Great One, have you decided on a plan of action yet?
Reaper: Warrior, I'm *warning* you . . .
Warrior: Oh, come on Reaper, it was only a joke.
Raven: Enough. Much as I appreciate you two fighting over me, this is not the time.
Reaper/Warrior: Yes, Raven.
Raven: Good. We're going for scenario C. Reaper, you're with me. Warrior, go and find Huntress. She'll tell you what to do.
* * * *
The Chancellor of Germany was seated in his office. Spread out on the desk before him were still more reports on this army that had taken over the USA and the UK. Now, personally he had no problem with this, having never gotten on with the leaders of those nations, but his country demanded action.
Reaching across the desk, he lifted the phone that was hardwired to the office of his French counterpart. Putting it to his ear, he heard . . . nothing. No dial tone, nothing. Puzzled, he replaced the handset and was about to pick it up again when the ceiling collapsed.
As the dust cleared he saw, under the hole that had appeared, a group consisting of five men with long blonde hair, one with short, brown and very dirty hair, and a girl with flowing golden locks. One of the blonde clones stepped forward, and the Chancellor, shocked but still remaining calm, asked, "Wer bist du?"
The elf looked back at the rest of the strike team, puzzled. Boromir and the other four elves were equally confused, but Sarah supplied, "He asked who you are. But don't worry, he understands English. Just address him in that. If you aren't sure of a word, just ask me or Boromir."
The elf – whose name Boromir couldn't recall at this time – turned back to the bemused Chancellor.
"I'm glad you asked me that. We are the elves who say. . . Ni!" The elf paused as the other four echoed his last word. When they were finally silent, he continued. "If you do not come with us, we will say 'Ni' again, until you beg for mercy!"
The Chancellor just stared. Sarah reached out and grabbed the elf by his collar. "You've been watching the Raven's old videos again, haven't you?" she hissed. The elf nodded mutely. "Well, just stick to the plan," she continued. He nodded once again, and turned back to his target.
Mr. Chancellor, you are charged with being an ineffectual tool of a useless regime. As such, you will be delivered to the Elvish Inquisition for interrogation. Their main weapon is –"
"Just shoot him, please," interrupted Sarah. The elf sighed, then pulled out his bow, set an arrow and shot the Chancellor.
The last thing the man saw before the poison claimed his life was the girl raising a radio to her lips. The last thing he felt was a strange relief that the blonde man – elf - *thing* - had shot him rather than delivering him to their strange Inquisition. He had a strange feeling comfy chairs would have been involved . . .
* * * *
Well, that's that. Did anyone spot the Monty Python references? They're hidden pretty deep.
Reviews make me happy . . .
hS