Elf Hour

[The...American...Deicide]

Carl Steelflex sat on a stool at a bar, his ankle length charcoal jacket hanging a couple of inches off the floor. The fluffy Santa hat cast shadows on his face, and his angular features cast shadows on the shadows on his face. Even not in beat-the-gift-warp-out-of-person mode, he still looked relatively dangerous...tank like to be precise. His broad frame made him look like the kind of man who could plow through rows of Santa's helpers. The steel colored eyes glaring out from his shadowed face made him look like the kind of man who would.

The elf took a purposeful swig of his beverage, glancing around himself from time to time. The tavern was a quite amusing little place, out of the way and in the shadows cast by a tall building. The name was pretty cute too..."The Tavern [where Santa's elves do not go]." Carl was a big fan of the name.

Occasionally he swiveled around on his stool, checking to make sure that stupid cat-girl wasn't around. The thought that he had lost her had put him in a pleasant mood. Who knew, maybe he would do something fun that afternoon. He hadn't mugged anyone in a while.

[sdwdrake]

Crum approaches a tavern that had an…interesting name, the tavern [where Santa's elves do not go]…

‘This is interesting…’ Crum thinks to himself as he enters the tavern, and glances around, but can only see a small elve sitting down and drinking a strange beverage, Crum just gives him a cursory glance and continues to the nearest table and sits down.

Crum glances over at the elve.

“Yo what ya do here for fun?” and grins.

[The...American...Deicide]

Carl looked over his shoulder at lizard-boy. They were equal in height, but the elf still thought he could take it on...whatever it was. Sweeping his eyes up and down the hybrid, he noted the red eyes, red hair, palish skin, and blades that looked mighty dangerous. Steelflex the elf snorted.

"For fun? Well I was planning to mug someone this evening."

Carl evaluated the creature in his mind a bit more. He seemed friendly enough, and kind of young-seeming once the phrasing of the question was considered. The elf decided that having company on a violent expedition wouldn't be as bad as it could be.

"Would you like to join me?"

[December]

Sorry if this didn't turn out too well... >_<" My first serious attempt at humor in none fanfic. type of writing... and I'm not sure if I've pulled it off... >_<"

They Looked at her strangely. All of them – barkeeps, tavern maids, customers, and the sneaky little man who was obviously a thief, because he was small and wore black clothing and was ugly, and ugly people were always the bad guys. In fact, only two err… things, or maybe three, if you count the rat nibbling on the wood, were not giving Candie the Look.

A Look that said: “OMG! OMG! J00 R LIKE ZE \/\/31R|)!!!”, or “I NO STUPID LAH! WE MAKE BABIES TOGETHER LOL LOL LOL! XD XD XD !!!”

Yes, that Look, which always implied that the looker was headed towards a Darwin Award, the one where they cut off their own bits.

Candie seemed almost oblivious as she sat on the tall, tall stool, legs dangling and eyelids flattering coyly, and simply sipped her drink, the “Northern Magical Diadem Emerald Breeze Twister Anvil Fatal Autumn Lake Margarita”. Her teeth sparkled when her mouth opened, and her hair was [I]whipping in the air, even when there were no winds. Candie was oblivious to that, too. Instead, she seemed intent on making herself drunk with the most potent concoction known to all beings alive and dead in the realm known only as Tolkien’s Middle Earth. A concoction that had, after much haggling and pleading from a fire-works master known to the Black Market as the Man in White (MIW), been exported over to our lovely world of Althanas. (There are so inter-realm markets!)

There was a long period of silence before one of the tavern maids opened her mouth. “That is like, one of the most blondest people I’ve like, ever seen. Like, seriously. And ah… how does her hair do that?”

Her twin nodded. “And like, how the hell did she get her skin, and body, and what is she wearing?”

The first twin sighed. “Like, obviously, that is an ultra-blonde and ultra-perfect Mary-Sue character who came from another Realm through something to do with quantum physics and wormholes and pulsing portals and is now stuck in this Realm and has no idea what to do and therefore will jump into completely random situations only to come out victorious in the end with minimum damage to herself. And she dresses like that because she is a nurse and nurses wear white miniskirts with red crosses across the chest and white little hats and eyepatches across one eye and striped stockings and high heels.”

A pause. Nods of understanding. “Ahh…”

The first twin shrugged. Of course they would understand. Mary-Sues exist in every corner of the world. And she knew that keeping an eye out on Althana’s Character/PG Registration forum’s Registration Archive would come in useful someday.

Silence.

Candie sat in her obliviousness. And then—

“I WANNA DO SOMETHING!”

[sdwdrake]

...there is no way(unless you where psycic) be able to tell what Crums other form is

Crum grins at the little man.

"that all depends on one thing...if i can kill him after." Crum says then laughs.

"as long as i get to kill!"

[The...American...Deicide]

Well, while we're having fun with the little quote boxes, I'll join in. Carl is six feet, not a tiny elf. Just thought y'all should know. ha. quotey quote quote.

Carl suddenly realized he was being ridiculous. He couldn't just assume this man was half reptile. He was probably just drunk. The elf smiled slightly lopsidedly because he thought he was drunk, and made a toast in the stranger's direction. With a crude slurp he downed as much alcohol as he could, and slammed the tankard back onto the wooden bar with a loud bang.

The naughty elf turned to see some gorgeous blonde girl sitting on a stool looking beautiful. Carl rolled his eyes. Couldn't she be beautiful somewhere else? This was, after all, not a place to be beautiful. Just like you can't touch things in museums. This woman obviously beautifuled (because it is a verb now) in a very obvious manner. How very, very, crude. She wasn't even trying to be subtle.

Then it happened. That's right. It. The It. The only It that could have happened at that moment.

The jingling of little bells began in the distance. Slowly it grew louder.

Carl decided he was no longer drunk, and went into pre-terminator mode. He was all too good at estimating herds of elves, given that he had spent so long being surrounded by them and their annoying bell tinkles. He guessed...a lot. Steelflex sat up straighter in his stool and narrowed his eyes. He could smell the gingerbread. Oh ho ho ho hoe(farming implement) ho ho ho ho ho(hooker)!!!! Santa had sent his little slaves over for a little revenge.

Carl was in the mood for a massacre and Santa had given him a present with a big gory bow. It wasn't even christmas yet! The elf smiled to himself, although his baring of teeth looked more like a grimace. Oh the fun he would have that evening! Quickly, he patted the side of his jacket to make sure that Ahnold (the Terminator stufty) was next to his heart and ready to go. Then he flexed his muscles just to make sure they were still there. All set.

Then Carl Steelflex decided to get a headstart on the violence. With a roar that two christmas caroling neighborhoods would flee from, he stood up on his chair and hurled a tankard at some leering old short guy dressed in black.

[The...American...Deicide]

Chaos erupted around Carl as tankards began to be thrown in all directions. The elf could have sworn that he heard a couple of glasses being broken (most likely over heads of unfortunate victims). He took the step up from his chair to the bar, and whipped two guns out of his jacket. The jacket began to billow around him dramatically, which is what Carl was wearing it for. Ducking under a flying goblet, he readied himself for what was coming.

With a large crash, a tiny figure smashed through a dirty yellow window. The creature emitted an ear-piercing squeak as it somersaulted through the air and landed in the midst of the barfight. Instantly, everyone froze and turned to look at the new intruder. The thing was tiny and fragile looking, with large pointy ears and huge black beady eyes. It was so damn adorable it made Carl's sweet tooth hurt like he had bitten down on a candy cane too hard. With a calmness, he raised one of his guns and shot.

The hook of the chain punched through the little elf, it being so fragile and tiny that it never stood a chance. The thing had never even gotten a chance to whip out the toy making tools. There was another long, awkard pause, and then once again chaos erupted. The bar's occupants made mad scrambles for the stairs, screaming and pushing each other out of the way. Apparently there was a six foot tall mad man in a stupid hat down in the bar, killing cute little creatures.

Mr. Steelflex pulled the trigger on his gun once more, and the chain began to retract into his gun. Then, most crazzily, a miniature herd of little elves began to clamber through the window, throwing ginger bread cookies wildly left and right (and occasionally straight). Carl stopped retracting the chain, and swung his arm. Using the little elf body still on the end as a weight, he sent the chain whipping across the room. The miniature herd squeeked, and did the limbo right under. Another squadron of elflings burst through the next oddly dirty window.

This was not going to be easy.

Carl shoved his guns into the pockets of his jackets, grabbed a crate of alcohol and leapt from his place on the bar top to the edge of an over turned table. Teetering from the load, the elf barely made it across to leap over to another stool and then up to the stairs.

The little elves squeaked in dismay, and began to hurl the ginger bread men in a more frantic manner. Several more miniature herds of little elves somersaulted through the broken windows, and Carl heard the bangs of what had to be many little shoulders smashing against the front door. Nobody ever does try the handle.

Carl wasn't wasteing any time. He was going at full speed in his wide-stride run, jacket billowing in a wonderful fashion. Then something terrible happened: a gingerbread man grazed an arm. The elf cried out, but continued to run up the stairs, panting more now. The crate of alcoholic beverages was slowly becoming too much of a burden to carry. He didn't know how much longer he could hold the load. He turned around to see that the little elves were bottlenecking into the stair case. Ah well, here goes. Carl upended the crate and took off for it.

The glass bottles flew at the stair-climbers and shattered. Little elves everywhere shrieked as the alcohol flew all over them. Santa's slaves don't like alcohol you know, it can get good elves on the naughty list. Glass shattered and sliced a couple fragile little elf ears, and blinded some more. Carl didn't stay to watch, though. He was on the second floor and running down the hall.

Making a sharp turn suddenly, Carl smashed his shoulder into a room door. To his suprise, the door flew open and he hurtled across the inn room and hit the opposite wall.

"Why don't they ever use the door handle?" he heard, slurred drunkenly, followed by the slam of the poor abused door.

Carl's vision swam for a moment as he stood up, and looked around him... The room's wallpaper was an aging pink, and the furniture painted with cracked white paint. The vanity table, large bed, and table were dressed in cloth that matched the walls. Overall, it wasn't terrible... Oh hell, what was he thinking! Carl shook his head to clear it, and looked at the room's occupants. There was a drunken heavy set, middle aged man sitting in a corner. Five hookers in nice feathery gowns adorned random surfaces around the room. It looked like Carl had found an army.

Holding the ginger bread-grazed spot with the other hand, Carl Steelflex stood tall and thrust out his chest. His jacket billowed around his ankles.

"I am your commander." he said proudly, "And we are at war."

[sdwdrake]

Crum looks around at the chaos the elf was making and decided that it would be fun to help so he grabbed the nearest person and threw with all his strength and watched as he soared across the room, suddenly he notice, the jingling, that loud annoying jingling, 'Dam thats loud!' Crum thinks to him self, he looks in surprise as an elve came flying threw the window and screached, out of the corner of his eye he sees that elve he was talking to earlier pull out 2 guns and shoot a chain at the elve.

Crum draws his longsword as he sees more elves hop threw the window and start throwing ginger bread men around.

Crum charges them laughing, he was quickly lathered In elve blood and was loving it.

Crum makes a quick look around and notices that it was only him and the army of elves.

"Shit!" Crum yells and starts slashing his way towards the stairs.

[Taskmienster]

This thread has been sitting for a full year. Since no response has been made to create activity I am going to be moving this. If you would like it to be reopened please feel free to PM myself or another admin and they will be able to move it for you back to Scara Brae.