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The Greatest Fantasy Story Ever: Chapter Six
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Thracia Alba



Joined: 27 Jan 2006
Posts: 474
Location: The Golden State

Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 1:46 am    Post subject: The Greatest Fantasy Story Ever: Chapter Six  

This chapter is dedicated to Solomon Birch, who not only holds IF's current breath-holding record and is a big pile of muck (which is pretty cool in and of itself), but also allowed me to steal his material for my story. Yay Soily! *holds breath* :shock:

---

"The Greatest Fantasy Story Ever"

Chapter Six: In Which the Author Can't Think Up a Decent Title

In life, one can only agonize over a difficult situation for so long before a decision must be made, whether that decision is the right one or not. Plus, the readers were getting antsy. It was now or never. Coriander fingered the stone apprehensively, then coughed. The elf turned to look at him.

"Mister Elf, I challenge you to a duel!" He waved his hand with the rock over his head as he would have done with a sword, circumstances permitting, and nearly tripped.

The pale-skinned, pointy-eared denizen of the woods stared, unblinking, at the youth for a time. Coriander knew that stare; it was the same one Gemma gave him when he had said something she thought was stupid, and it made him feel all small and insignificant and made his feet itch. Finally the elf gave a little chuckle and went back to his searching. "Haha! Good one, boy. You had me going there for a moment. Aha! Here it is!" With a triumphant cry he pulled a length of strong-looking rope from the bag. "Now, if you'll just stand still..."

Coriander stomped his foot impatiently. "No, I mean it!" he said. "I want to challenge you to a duel, my rock against your bow!"

Again the elf stared at him, but Coriander was ready for it and glared back defiantly. Then the elf shrugged and said, "You really are serious about this, aren't you?"

"Yes! That's what I've been trying to tell you! Why doesn't anyone ever take me seriously?"

But the elf seemed to be in a world of his own now, and was speaking aloud to himself. "They told me to bring the kid back in one piece... Of course, that doesn't mean he necessarily has to be alive." Snapping out of it, he turned to Coriander, who was still looking ready to spring. "Fine," said the elf, "if you're in such a hurry to die, I'll oblige you. My bow against your, ah..." he eyed the stone clutched in Coriander's hand with a mixture of disgust and amusement. "...Weapon," he finished. "But this is no place for dueling. Shall we?" He made a sweeping gesture toward the mouth of the cave.

Though his heart was pounding with a soup of adrenaline, fear, and excitement, Coriander managed to pull a suitably cocky grin. "After you," he said.

"Oh, I insist." Coriander saw that the elf wasn't about to budge, so he gave up, shrugged, and stepped outside. A moment later he and the blond forest-dweller were standing facing each other, with a distance of some twenty paces between them. Coriander squinted. He could tell the sun had already risen because the gloom had lessened somewhat, but it still wasn't very easy to see. He'd have only one shot, and it would have to be perfect. He hesitated. No, something was wrong. He was doing this wrong somehow. A duel might be heroic, but in his heart he knew he'd never find Gemma and Cleo this way. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed the elf's experience. The leaves overhead rustled, and Coriander thought for a moment that a faint voice from the past was returning to him. There's more to being a hero than all that hacking and slashing stuff... That was it. His forehead furrowed and his eyes glanced, searching, up into the tree above the elf facing him. There had to be another way...

The elf, who had notched an arrow to his bow and was standing ready, saw Coriander's eyes turn upward, and he stole a quick glance into the branches above. This was it! Quick as lightning, the youth pulled back the arm and let the stony missile fly, and it sped in a path that was sure and straight... up into the branches. There was a TOK! as it hit something. The elf grinned. "Too bad, boy," he said, "I admired your spirit, really. But you know the rules of duelinffffghmghghfffrrrrrf!!" It had suddenly become very difficult to speak, as a very large, fortunately abandoned beehive had come crashing down upon his pointy-eared head, gracing him with some very interesting new headgear. Momentarily stunned, he fell on his back and lay there. Coriander immediately rushed over, planted a boot on the elf's chest, drew his sword from it's sheath, and pointed the blade so that the tip barely touched the elf's pale neck. If the elf had been able to see it, the glint that had suddenly appeared in the youth's eyes would have frightened him.

"Now look here, Mister Elf. I have a dilemma I'm hoping you can help me with."

"Mmmmphgrhhrrrph!" came the muffled reply.

"A nod will suffice, I'm sure," said Coriander. The elf hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then gave a nearly imperceptible nod, which was difficult to do because his head was still encased in the beehive. "Good," the young adventurer said curtly. "Now, I want to find my friends, who have gone missing for some reason. I fear they may be in trouble. However, I don't know this neighborhood very well, so the help of a local would be of much use to me. This is where you come in. You following so far?" Again came the tiniest of nods. "Good. I would like you to help me track down my friends, as you seem very good at tracking people down. But I know that you want to arrest the three of us, and will do so if you can. I suppose it's your job, and I can't blame you for wanting to do your job well, but it wouldn't be very good for me because it would keep me from rescuing the princess. Now I won our duel, so by rights you are my captive. You could come along and help me find my friends, after which I would allow you to go free, or I could kill you right now and take my chances. Which would you prefer, Mister Elf?" There was a pause during which the elf seemed to weigh his options. Coriander applied a tiny amount of pressure to the sword. "Come on, Mister Elf. I don't have all day!"

The elf stiffened. With all the dignity he could muster, he solemnly replied, "Gfffghmmmphphrr."

Coriander made a frustrated noise in his throat. "Look, just nod if you'll cooperate, okay?" The elf nodded hurriedly, the beehive wobbling like a cheaply-made bobblehead doll. Coriander broke out in a wide grin. "Great!" he said, stepping away and sheathing his sword once more. "Wonderful! Let's get started, shall we?"

The elf sat up and pulled the beehive off his head with a dull thwuck sound. His hair was mussed terribly and bits of old wax peppered his head and shoulders. He glared at Coriander. "How do you know I'll keep my word?" he growled. "I still have my bow. I could kill you right now if I wanted."

Coriander shrugged. "I trust you to abide by the ancient, sacred, and highly-publicized rules of dueling. You will keep your word, won't you?"

The elf looked even more offended, if such a thing was possible. "Of course I will! An elf always keeps his word!" This wasn't actually true, but in this elf's case it was. He was actually a bit of an oddity among his people, being honest, brave, level-headed, and possessing integrity. But we'll get to that later.

Once again the youth was all smiles. "Good! 'Cause to tell you the truth, Mister Elf, I sure the heck wasn't about to kill you! I don't think I could have!"

The elf said nothing, and merely continued to seem as if he were strongly doubting the sort of reality that would allow him to be bested by a person like Coriander.

"By the way, Mister Elf, what is your name? I can't keep on calling you Mister Elf, can I?"

"My name is Burrberry."

"Oh. Cool! My name's Coriander!"

"Charmed, I'm sure."

"So, uh..." Coriander glanced around a bit. "Shouldn't we, um, get started or something? I'd like to find my friends by nightfall, at least."

"As you wish, I suppose. I have but one question," said Burrberry.

Coriander broke out into another wide grin. "Sure! Fire away!"

"Why did you not simply use that," he said, nodding to the sword at Coriander's belt, "from the beginning? Why did you challenge me to a duel armed with a rock when you had an actual weapon? Was it some strategy of yours? Were you hoping I would drop my guard?"

Coriander seemed puzzled. "Oh, you mean my sword?" he asked, drawing the weapon once more and examining it. "I guess I just forgot I had it."

"You forgot you had it."

"Yeah, pretty much!"

"Wonderful."

---

Have you, the esteemed reader, ever had the chance to enter a cave so dark within that you couldn't see your hand held a millimeter from your face? A darkness so complete that it was deafening, a darkness so thick that it seemed to have a texture of its own, a darkness so close that it made you feel as if you were locked in a very small box, upon which you stretched out your hands and were surprised to touch nothing but empty air? Well, if you haven't, I've just described it well enough so that you can imagine you have. Go tell your friends all about it. They'll be impressed. Anyway, it was in this heavy, solid sort of blackness that two of our beloved characters now found themselves, and it was through this oppressive nothingness that a chill voice, blacker than the night itself, echoed.

"I vant to suck your Blood!"

And it was from this same darkness that a less chilling, but overall more frightening, voice answered.

"No, no, we've been over this a thousand times! It's "want"! I "want" to suck your blood!"

"I... i..."

"Come on, you can do it."

"I... Oooooant. I ooant to suck your Blood!"

"That's a definite improvement. Now, let's move on to those "th"s of yours..."

"Uh, if I may interject, Gemma..."

"You certainly may, Cleo."

"What the hell is going on here? And where is here?"

"I can explain ssat, meine Freundin!"

"Miner what? Is this a mine? And who are you?!"

"I am Count Otto von Mobile, und ssis is my humble Home."

"You live in a mine?"

"Nein, ve--"

"Otto!"

"Uh, oooee are in sse Headqvarters of sse VVV."

"The what?"

"Sse Vegetarian Vampire Vendetta, mein Club, vhich i founded."

"Vegetarian vampire? What do you eat?"

"Blood oranges."

"Of course."

"If I may interject, Cleo..."

"You certainly may, Gemma."

"What are you doing out here, Otto? I didn't know there were any vampires in the J'naeric woods."

"Ssere veren't, until i came out here viss mein Club. Ve vanted to commune viss sse Nature."

"I see. And what do you mean by "ve"? Sorry, "we"?

"Uh, ve. You und i."

"Sorry, I'm not following. Do you mean to tell me that you're the only member of your little vampire club?"

"Vell... i vas, but now ssat you two are here, i am not anymore!"

"But don't you have to be a vampire to belong to a club for vampires?"

"Ah, but you vill be as soon as sse Sun goes down, ja?"

"And how do you figure that?"

"Because i vill make you vampires! Und ssen mein Club vill have members!"

"It was that hard to get recruits, was it?"

"Vell, it iss not exactly sse most popular idea among sse vampire community."

"And that's why they kicked you out, forcing you to flee to the woods?"

"...Ja."

"I see."

"If I may interject, Gemma..."

"You certainly may, Cleo."

"So we're captured once more."

"It would seem so, yes."

"By a vegetarian vampire, no less, who wants to turn us into vegetarian vampires as well."

"Ja!"

"You stay out of this, Vlad. Anyway, we have until nightfall to escape an eternal existence of sunless horror."

"Mmm... Yeah."

"And that Coriander you travel with is our only hope of rescue?"

"Probably. I hope you like oranges."

"I haff many delicious recipes for ssem!"

"Wonderful."

---

Niphti Castle. It was grand. It was magnificent. It was an architectural marvel of its time. It was, well, Niphti. Goosegrass had to admit, though, that it was somewhat difficult to appreciate the grandeur of the castle when one was confined to one part of it for several days on end. The Prince boredly drummed his fingers on the arm of his father's throne and beckoned to one of the butlers standing at either side of the enormous doors of the Great Hall. "Show in the next audience," he ordered, and the butler bowed deeply before disappearing through the doorway and out into the room where citizens who wished to see the king (or, in this case, the prince) waited. Goosegrass gazed at the doorway longingly. Perhaps I could disguise myself as a butler, he thought. They seem to have free run of the place. Or, better yet, perhaps Father can take a break from hunting and do this himself. Honestly, at his age you'd think he'd want to slow down a bit... His musings were interrupted when the butler reappeared, gave another bow, and ushered in two angry-looking fellows who were glaring death-threats at each other. "Come now, what's all this about?" demanded Goosegrass, surveying the men with mild curiosity. Another dispute over the ownership of a pig, no doubt...

The shorter man, a scrawny-looking fellow with large, crooked teeth, stepped forward and held up a ball decorated with a curious pattern of black and white hexagons. "Your Majesty," he said, "I come to lodge a formal complaint against this man," he pointed to the other man, who was much taller, burly, and had a mop of straw-like hair, "who has stolen a name from me!"

The other man, who was himself holding a brown, oddly-shaped ball tucked under one arm, interrupted angrily. "What a liar this man is! I had the name first!"

Goosegrass leaned forward, his interest piqued. "You mean this fellow stole your name?" he asked the smaller man.

"Not my name, Your Grace, but the name of my invention." He indicated the ball in his hands.

"And what is the name of your invention."

"I call it a football, Your Majesty."

"He lies, your Majesty! This is a football!" The larger man held up his ball, which wasn't shaped like a ball at all, but rather like a lemon.

The smaller man bared his jack-o-lantern teeth at the other man. "This is a football because you actually use your feet to play with it! That should be called a handball."

"But you do use your feet with this ball at kickoff! And anyway, this is shaped more like a foot!"

Goosegrass scratched his beard thoughtfully. "You both say you came up with the name first, but I have no way of knowing which one of you is telling the truth. It could be that you both came up with the name on your own. However, there must be some way of settling this dispute..." He looked once more to the smaller man with the round ball. "Tell me, man, what is your name?"

"Sokir, Your Majesty. Nigel Sokir."

Goosegrass nodded. "Very well, then. By royal decree, that strangely-shaped ball will keep the name football, as it is shaped more like a foot, and your ball will be henceforth known as... the Sokir-ball!"

At this the smaller man went completely mad and began to twitch violently. His eyes rolled back in his skull, and he fell to the floor in a heap, writhing and foaming at the mouth. The larger man, who had won the case, bowed to the prince. "Many thanks, your Grace!" Then he stepped, smirking, over the other's twitching form and out of the hall.

Goosegrass brought a hand up to his mouth. "Oh dear," he murmured. Then he called to the butler again. "Uh, go and call a physician to help this man. And tell anyone waiting outside to come tomorrow. I think that's enough for one day." The butler bowed once more and scurried away to carry out his prince's orders. The prince himself hesitated for a moment, staring nervously at the poor, mad man on the floor, who had begun to scream gibberish about crickets and wicker baskets and rugburns, or something like that. Then Goosegrass shrugged. "Nothing I can do for the poor devil," he muttered, and strode quickly across the Great Hall and out through a side door.

---

It was a fine afternoon, so he took lunch with his princess in the garden, as was their custom. Little yellow-winged butterflies flittered about through the flowers, of which there were so many that the scent was almost overpowering. His mother, the late queen, had certainly made the right call in ordering dragon dung for fertilizer. Goosegrass inhaled deeply; being out here always reminded him of when he had first met his bride, nearly eighteen years ago. How they had both changed since then...

Croquette glanced up at her husband over her half-eaten scone. "Is there something on your mind, my love?" she asked.

"Hm?" he looked up into her concerned face. "Oh, it's nothing, dear. I was just thinking of the day we met."

"A happy memory, I hope."

He smiled. "Certainly. Did you know that before I had the fortune to pass through Meh and run into you, I was in the middle of my first quest?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh? I never knew. What was it?"

Goosegrass shrugged. "It's been so long... Something about a sleeping princess in a tower. Anyway, my cousin Valiant ended up taking it on."

Croquette nodded. "There's always a princess in a tower."

"Which reminds me, Love, I've been wondering about how our little Kristelle's been holding up. You'd think we would have heard something by now..."

"Darling, it's been less than a week. You can't possibly expect any rescuers to show up yet." Or ever, her conscience added, and she shushed it quickly. It's for Kristelle's own good, she told herself. Surely some boy will want a kingdom badly enough. This kind of thing has worked before, and it'll work now! As much as she tried to convince herself, though, the biting little worm of doubt wriggled its way through her skull. Magden's suggestion had seemed so sensible at the time, but Croquette was beginning to wonder if it had been the right choice after all. Where was that witch, anyway?

"Yes, suppose so," Goosegrass conceded, "but still, I'd feel better if someone were to go check up on her. Perhaps someone who has, you know, been on at least one quest before, or at least part of one..." He stopped when Croquette leaned over and placed a hand on his.

"Goosegrass, you don't have to make up excuses if you're bored and want to get out for a bit. I can handle things around here well enough for a day or two, I should think."

The prince beamed with gratitude. "You can read me so well," said he.

"Like a book," said she.

"Very well, then!" He stood up and struck a dramatic pose, or at least as dramatic a pose as one can strike when one has a napkin tucked into one's belt and is holding a salami on rye in one's hand. "This afternoon I shall set out on a quest to the tower of the dread magician Wictred," he stated solemnly, "to check up on our little girl!"

---

You, the sharp and discerning reader, may well be wondering exactly what had happened to Princess Kristelle after she had evidently escaped from the tower, and what she was doing at this point of the story. Even if you aren't, though, you're about to find out, so you might as well make yourself comfortable.

The J'naeric Woods, as has already been pointed out, is the proud producer of a veritable cacophony of strange and creepy noises. This is a production that goes on all year-'round, without regard for weekends or holidays or national days of mourning, and this is a consistency which, though frightening, is also strangely reassuring. Lately, however, a new sound had been traveling at a steady pace through the trees, and it was the most bizarre noise that had ever been heard in the entire history of the forest: silence. And before you try to tell me that silence isn't a sound, I challenge you to think of a time when you heard it. Because I have, and it's deafening.

The silence was traveling through the J'naeric woods; it wasn't spreading, but rather was moving through the woods like a bubble of noiselessness, and as soon as it had passed the usual sounds would be sucked back into their usual places, as if the sudden absence of the silence had created a vacuum. Along it moved, stopping only at night or lunchtime, moving, moving, and always in the middle of this silence moved a lone figure. It was ragged and disheveled, its hair a tangled, dirty mess, its once-elegant gown in tatters. There was grime caked under its fingernails, and its skin was smeared in places with mud. It had stopped under a tree now, though, and was crouching over something.

Princess Kristelle considered her situation as she knelt on the forest floor. She was lost, with no idea of how to get back to civilization. She was walking barefoot outdoors for perhaps the first time in her life, having been forced to leave her high-heeled shoes behind when it had become apparent that walking along the bumpy ground in them would prove impossible. She stank to high heavens of sweat and whatever other grime had stuck to her form. She had never felt so grody. She had never felt so unladylike. She had never felt so... so... alive.

Kristelle grinned. I must remember to get lost more often, she thought to herself. It had started when that strange woman (or at least, it had sounded like a woman) in the cloak had shown her the way out of the cell. Hm. Who'd've thought those bars weren't really enchanted? I mean, when a magician tells you something's enchanted, you tend to believe him. The fact was that the stranger had simply pushed open the bars, and Kristelle had walked right through. Apparently the cloaked figure had used the same method to enter the cell in the first place, though the princess hadn't noticed because she'd been too deep in thought. From there, it had been a simple matter to sneak down the winding stairs, past Wictred's room (in which he had been grinning like an idiot in front of a mirror for some weird reason), out the tower and into the woods. The dragon had paid no heed to her, having been instructed to attack anyone who approached the tower, not left it.

The strangest thing of all was that Kristelle hadn't been the least bit afraid when she had found herself in the dark, wild woods. In fact, the woods seemed to be afraid of her; the birds all flew away when they saw her coming, the animals darted quickly into the trees. Heck, the trees themselves seemed to tense up when she came their way. She had set off into the forest, not knowing or really even caring where it was she was going. Everything had seemed to come so naturally to her, like a long-forgotten memory that comes back all of a sudden when a familiar scent calls it back, or you visit the place where it first occurred.

"Ha!" Kristelle let out a triumphant cry and stood up, admiring her handiwork. She held the spear out at arm's length and examined it. Yes, it would do nicely. That rabbit had made a good breakfast, but it had been a bother to catch it with her bare hands; with a weapon, she now had a much more convenient (and not to mention stylish) means of hunting. It sure was kind of that elf to help me in its construction, she thought, and grinned somewhat barbarically at the memory. She had come across him not three hours ago; he obviously hadn't taken the cue from his woodland friends, and it had been child's play to sneak up from behind him, clobber him about the head with a fallen branch, and steal all his stuff while he was out cold. Kristelle had been disappointed to find that the elf had carried no food except for a couple strange tablets that had tasted like chalk. The arrows he carried were useless as well, but the dagger at his belt had, with a little time, patience, and elbow grease, proven a useful spear-head (but not before it had been used to strip away at the branch until it had been converted to a suitable shaft). After over an hour of hard work, Kristelle's fingers were sore, her hands were calloused, and her spear was finished. Her face broke out into an eager grin once more. It was time to test her new weapon. Taking careful aim at a tree about ten yards away, she drew back her arm and hurled the spear forward in a graceful arc, and it sailed through the air beautifully... and missed the tree by several more yards, disappearing into the woods beyond. Cursing and grumbling, the muddy princess set off after it.

After nearly ten minutes of searching, the cursings and grumblings had grown bored with their station in life, gotten their ducks in a row, gone back to school, earned their degrees, and worked their way up to full-out bellyaching. The hard-earned fruits of their labor were now echoing through the otherwise-silent forest. Kristelle paused in mid-snark. At least, it had been otherwise silent. She could hear other sounds now, coming from a little ways away. Her curiosity piqued, Kristelle padded her way carefully toward the new sound; it was then that she spotted her spear sticking out of the ground to her right. With a satisfied grin she plucked from the ground and set off after her latest interest.

"We've been following these tracks of yours for hours! Are you sure this is the right way?"

"Of course it's the right way! I'll have you know I've been tracking people down since before you were born!"

"All I'm saying is I think we should have run into them by now."

"Not if they were still moving, we wouldn't! Especially if they knew they were being followed."

"Hey, are you trying to imply they went off on their own?"

"Oh, no, not for the world! I can't imagine anything that would make them want to depart from your pleasant company!"

"Why am I getting the impression you don't mean that?"

"Why indeed? I can't imagine."

Kristelle frowned and ducked behind a tree so as not to be seen. It probably didn't matter anyway, since the two seemed oblivious to all else. She smiled and adjusted her grip on the spear; they would be easy pickings, and might actually be carrying something of value! Best not to rush in against both of them, especially when she didn't know how her new weapon would hold out in battle. Yes, stealth was key in these situations. She didn't know how she knew. She just knew.

Kristelle had done more grinning today than had in her entire life, and she did so once more, just for good measure. It was good to be alive.

---

Coriander was about to attempt a witty comeback (and, of course, fail catastrophically) when something caught his attention. He looked up and studied their surroundings carefully. "Do you hear that?" he asked.

Burrberry listened. "No," he replied, "I don't hear anything."

"That's what I mean. I think I've heard just about every sound in the book since I got here, but silence hasn't been one of them 'til now."

"Silence isn't a sound, you ninny!" Burrberry said crossly. He had been having the worst day of his life up until now, but he was at least comforted by the assumption that it couldn't possibly get any worse (which is, in literature, always a bad idea to assume).

Coriander was still listening intently. "Perhaps," he began, "but still, don't you think it's just a little strange that OOF!!" Now that may seem like a strange sentence to you, the discerning reader, but perhaps you can make a fairly accurate guess as to what caused this sudden and unexpected utterance. Or perhaps not. At any rate, you're about to find out.

Dazed and now apparently on his back, the young adventurer looked up to see, not the leafy green roof of the woods, but the most beautiful face he had ever set eyes on. Sure, it was all scratched up and smudged with dirt. Sure, it was framed by a tangled mane of hair that was blond in some places, brown in others, and host to a fair representation of the forest's flora, not to mention fauna. Sure, it looked more like something one would find among the pages of National Geographic than the latest Victoria's Secret catalogue (if either had existed in Coriander's world). The simple fact of the matter, however, was that since the sum total of women the youth had come to know fairly well in his life had consisted of his mother, his forty-year-old school teacher, his perpetually-annoyed questing partner, and his more recent aquaintance of the grubby elf girl who had somehow ended up with them, chances were that any female face that wasn't middle-aged, angry, or embittered was bound to rate a full ten on his attraction scale. Coriander was entranced. "Well met, O sun-browned maiden of the forest," he murmured dreamily.

The apparition furrowed her brow and studied a hand closely. "Actually, I think it's dirt," she said in dulcet tones. "Anyway," she continued, turning back to the task at hand, "give me all your food, supplies, and weapons, and I might just let you live."

Coriander considered his situation. "I'd be glad to, but you're sitting on my chest." And she was. Not that he minded, of course.

"Not so fast, young lady." It was Burrberry now, and Coriander looked up to see the elf aiming an arrow straight at the girl. "You may have gotten the drop on my scatter-brained companion, here, but you'll find the Chief of J'naeric Security a more difficult opponent."

"You wanna bet, tree-hugger?" Quick as a flash she was on her feet and had produced a crudely-made spear from seemingly nowhere. She faced the elf aggressively, spear held at ready.

Burrberry smirked. "Please. Put that toy away and go back home to your mother, little girl. I've never harmed a child, no matter how foolish, and I'd hate to start now."

"And I've never killed an elf," she snarled, "but I suppose there's a first time for everything."

Fearing bloodshed, Coriander rushed over and stood between the two. "Please, there's no need for this! Put your weapons down!"

The elf snorted derisively. "I'd hardly call that a weapon."

"And I'd hardly call you an elf, though that's probably more of a compliment than anything," the girl countered.

"Watch your tongue, infant!"

"Bring it on, toy-maker!"

"STOP!!" The two jumped a bit at Coriander's sudden outburst, and though they didn't lower their weapons, they at least shut up (which was a considerable improvement). He turned to the girl desperately. "Please, O wild maiden of the woods, I have no food or supplies to share with you, and for weapons I have only my sword, and that... well, isn't very good, I'll admit. I bought it from a traveling peddler, you know."

"That thing in the crummy-looking sheath, you mean?" She sniffed. "I don't want it. My spear will suffice, thank you." At this Burrberry snorted, and the girl tensed.

"And you," Coriander continued, and spun around to face Burrberry. "You have an obligation to help me find my friends! Once we find the right tracks, that is."

"But these are the right tracks!" the elf said indignantly. "Just because we haven't encountered those stupid girls yet doesn't mean we're following the wrong trail!"

The girl seemed to lose all interest in her conflict with Burrberry at this point, and stepped off toward the area the elf was indicating. She crouched low and studied the ground intently. "I think..." she began after a few moments.

Burrberry interrupted. "Oh, so she's a fighter and a ranger now, is she?" he sneered. "Don't tell me you're the daughter of a barbarian hero!"

She ignored him, continuing, "These tracks look like they're going the opposite way from where you're coming."

"You mean we're going the wrong way?" Coriander asked, puzzled. "But we followed these all the way from the cave."

"Of course we're going the right way!" the elf snapped. "I've been tracking people for more years than you could count, and I think I'd know if we were going the wrong way!"

"Yes, but look at this imprint." She pointed. "It's obviously made from the ball of someone's foot, and it's pointing back the way you came."

"Let me see that." Burrberry strode over and gazed at the spot at which she was pointing. "That's not a toe," he said. "That's a heel. You can clearly see from the way it curves."

"A heel wouldn't leave that deep an imprint."

"It isn't that deep."

"It's deep enough."

The elf growled in frustration and stepped back. "This is ridiculous! There was one set of tracks leading away from the cave. If these tracks are going toward the cave, who made them? And where did those two go, then?"

"I don't know who you're talking about," the girl said, "but if you're following someone, perhaps there was a set of tracks you overlooked."

"Impossible. I looked everywhere."

"Anything's possible." She added on an afterthought, "I should know. Perhaps there are no tracks because they didn't make any? Perhaps they were carried off by something that flew."

"That's preposterous! Something like that would have made a great deal of noise, and the boy would have woken up."

"Actually, Burrberry," Coriander managed to get in edgewise, "I am a pretty heavy sleeper. I slept through the Norridge earthquake."

"Wow, you are a heavy sleeper," the girl said, clearly impressed. "Most of my mother's best china was destroyed in that quake."

Burrberry narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "And just who is your mother, young Miss Would-Be Ranger?"

"I, uh, I think you should go back to that cave and look for more clues," she said hurriedly, turning to Coriander. "You're obviously going the wrong way, and you might find something back there. Not that I care, of course," she added. "You obviously don't have anything of worth, and I'm sick of being around this incompetent know-it-all."

"What makes you think I'm going to just let you leave?" the elf growled. "As head of J'naeric Security, it's my obligation to take law-breakers into custody."

She grinned wickedly. "I believe your companion here has already pointed out that you have some obligation to help him."

He stared at her as if trying to will her into oblivion. She gazed back steadily. He sighed. "Very well, that may be true. But I am required to help him find his friends, which means we go my way. I say we are heading the right way, and you're only wasting our time."

"Very well. No skin off my nose." She turned on her heel and strode away in the direction from which she had came.

Coriander felt torn; true, he trusted Burrberry's advice (or, at least, he felt he should probably), but the sight of that entrancing girl leaving was making some previously-unknown instinct cry out in rage and dismay. "Please, wait!" he shouted.
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Thracia Alba



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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 1:49 am    Post subject:  

And please don't point out the uncapitalized "i"s and capitalization of nouns in Count Otto's dialogue as typos. They were intentional, and you get a cookie if you know why. ;)
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Shady Stoat



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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 2:24 am    Post subject:  

Lovely chapter again. I did like your cave description - I'll be able to tell everyone I've been caving now :P

Well... obviously the sensible thing to do would be to follow the more experienced, wiser elf, over the rookie female. Right?

So, that's why Coriander hasn't got a christmas turkey's chance of doing it!

He'll follow the girl. I'm sure he'll put it down to 'protecting her' or 'being a hero' or something - but he'll definitely be more interested in her than an elf with a hair full of bees :D

Although... if the elf is still beholden to find Coriander's friends for him, Cor could use that and tell him to follow the other trail, meeting up again if he finds the two girls. After all, he's an elf of his word. We know this because he said so ;)
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Chinaren



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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 3:58 am    Post subject:  

Lovely chapter Ms. Alba. Much enjoyment.

I have been in such a cave, and it was indeed much like the description. Ahhh, memories...

*snaps out of it*

Anyway, yes. Corry is quite likely, I would say, to follow the girl. It's what I would do anyway, so it must be right. ;)
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Mother Goose



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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 6:25 am    Post subject:  

I love this story. Of course Corry will follow the girl. What else can a hero do, confronted with a princess?

Vlad capitalizes nouns and not first-person pronouns because he speaks German. Can i have my cookie now?
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Smee



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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 7:23 am    Post subject:  

Hilarious chapter Thracia :lol:

Loved the Count :)

He's already annoyed the Elf in just about every way possible, I doubt he's going to stop any time soon. He'll follow the girl and demand the Elf goes with him just because he can :)

Happy Writing :)
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Solomon Birch



Joined: 22 Nov 2005
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Location: England..... but Japan beckons.....

Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 7:44 am    Post subject:  

Wow, a chapter dedicated to me!? I'm chuffed. You can plagiarize my stuff anytime you want. :D

I loved

Quote: "Vell, it iss not exactly sse most popular idea among sse vampire community."

"And that's why they kicked you out, forcing you to flee to the woods?"

"...Ja."

:lol:

Noticed one thing:

Quote: The prince drummed his fingers boredly on the arm of his father's throne

I think the sentance would work better as:

Quote: The Prince boredly drummed his fingers on the arm of his father's throne

Or something else. I'm sure you can think of something better. :D

And...

Quote: She had never felt so grody

:-o

Such a Californian thing to say. You should listen to Frank Zappa's 'Valley Girl'. its classic, and you'll understand why if you do. ;)

Enough ranting. I agree with the others; I'd go after the girl, so any guy with visions of hero-like grandeur would be doubly hungry for some nice laydeeee. 'Specially with that whole 'wild-thing' feral child look going on. Rawr. :P

So moan at the elf and get him to come with you, and follow the luverly princess with your tounge lolling out all over the place. :biggrin:

*holds breath* :shock:
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Araex
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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 8:22 am    Post subject:  

DOUBLE POSTING, EDITED OUT
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Araex
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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 8:22 am    Post subject:  

Awesome story, absolutely awesome, there were at least three sections that had me rocking back and forth laughing silently to myself. My invisible friends thought I was very strange, but I explained them the jokes and then they joined in :D

Anyways... great chapter. And i knew vhy the Punctuation ooas funny, even if Goosssey pointed it out firsst. Can i haff a Cookie also? i ooant a Cookie...

Whoops, left out what I thought we should do among all the German accents and hilarity. Well, I think we should follow the wild wonder, dragging the elf along with us because he has to help! We won the duel for chrissakes!
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Thracia Alba
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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 11:23 am    Post subject:  

Mother Goose wrote:

Vlad capitalizes nouns and not first-person pronouns because he speaks German. Can i have my cookie now?

Here you go! *presents MG with cookies of perfect pronunciation* You too, Araex! *more cookies*


Solomon Birch wrote:
Noticed one thing:

Quote: The prince drummed his fingers boredly on the arm of his father's throne

I think the sentance would work better as:

Quote: The Prince boredly drummed his fingers on the arm of his father's throne



Thanks for the advice! I was writing this thing in such a hurry, I'm surprised it didn't come out looking like Tarzan wrote it.


Solomon Birch wrote:
Quote: She had never felt so grody

:-o

Such a Californian thing to say. You should listen to Frank Zappa's 'Valley Girl'. its classic, and you'll understand why if you do. ;)

*hangs head in shame* So I've been found out for being a hopeless Californian. What's next? Sushi, yoga classes, surfing? all is bleak. :(

Anyway, I was hoping to write in a decent DP this time, but it seems like everyone feels the same way about it (d'oh!). I'll give it another day or two before I put up the poll. If no one suggests anything otherwise, I'll just skip the poll and write the chapter.
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thebean203
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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 1:25 pm    Post subject:  

just to be controversial... :biggrin:


i take that back.....im not going to be controversial because i can't think of anything that would back up a controversial Statement :( so i agree, as the perfectly sensible young man Coriander is, he will ditch Mr. Beehive and follow the lovely, grody mysterious girl. :mad: who knows what they'll meet?
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Solomon Birch
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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 2:06 pm    Post subject:  

Don't feel bleak, Cali has loads of things going for it. It's just that 'grody' isn't one of them. *pats* :D
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Thracia Alba
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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 2:11 pm    Post subject:  

I always felt "grody" to be a very useful and descriptive word. You know, like when you're overdue for a shower and it's 90 degrees out and you forgot to do your laundry so you had to fish the cleanest shirt you could out of the hamper in the meantime... You know, that's grody. Not that I've ever, uh, been in that kind of situation before... :unsure:
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Solomon Birch
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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 2:17 pm    Post subject:  

You see, I don't want to sound like a English-language snob (some of the crapola being used by the dirty unwashed masses in England is no better ;)), but I don't see how grody does explain all that? :D

Now, if you'd used begrimed, besmirched, cruddy, dingy, filthy, foul, grubby, grungy, messy, mucky, nasty, scuzzy, sleazy, smeared, smutty, soiled (:biggrin:), sooty, sordid, squalid or unclean then I'd have understood completely. But.... grody? Sounds a little like grotty I suppose.... grubby? Ok, I'll stop now. Be as California as you want Thracia, I still love you. ;)
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Thracia Alba
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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 2:56 pm    Post subject:  

I bet you wrote all that while drinking tea from a china cup with your pinky finger stuck out daintily, huh? I say! ;) Just jokin'.

Grubby would have worked, I guess, but still... You just can't stress the vowel with it. I mean, drop your super-sophisticated English accent for a moment and say it with me: grrOdy. Yarr. :D
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Solomon Birch
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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 3:24 pm    Post subject:  

Its, like, TOTALLY! Grody! Grody to the MAX! :-o Barf out! Gag me with a spoon!

I'm SURE! No way!

It was like, bitchin....

I am SO sure... Oh my Gaaawd!

:shock:
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Thracia Alba
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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 3:50 pm    Post subject:  

Now I'm sure I don't talk like that... Usually. :shock:
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Key
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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 8:37 pm    Post subject: Re: The Greatest Fantasy Story Ever: Chapter Six  

Great chapter, Thracia! :tu2:

A few of my favorite lines:

Thracia Alba wrote: The elf said nothing, and merely continued to seem as if he were strongly doubting the sort of reality that would allow him to be bested by a person like Coriander.
Thracia Alba wrote: Have you, the esteemed reader, ever had the chance to enter a cave so dark within that you couldn't see your hand held a millimeter from your face? A darkness so complete that it was deafening, a darkness so thick that it seemed to have a texture of its own, a darkness so close that it made you feel as if you were locked in a very small box, upon which you stretched out your hands and were surprised to touch nothing but empty air? Well, if you haven't, I've just described it well enough so that you can imagine you have. Go tell your friends all about it. They'll be impressed.
Thracia Alba wrote: And before you try to tell me that silence isn't a sound, I challenge you to think of a time when you heard it. Because I have, and it's deafening.

I agree with everybody else about our action.
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Thracia Alba
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Posted: Wed May 10, 2006 11:09 pm    Post subject:  

Many thanks, your Majesty! :D

The hardest part of writing this story has been to come up with challenging decision points, and so far I don't think I've been very successful. Hopefully chapter seven's will prove a bit more controversial.
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Solomon Birch
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Posted: Thu May 11, 2006 12:38 am    Post subject:  

Ooooo! Controversial! Yay! :D
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ethereal_fauna
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Posted: Thu May 11, 2006 3:16 am    Post subject:  

He isn't going to follow the girl, or the elf, or demand the elf follow him and the girl. Those things are all too simple.

The wild, grody girl has caused certain un-named reactions to, erm...swell within him. She's unkempt, wild and barbaric. She needs rescuing from herself. It's the heroic thing to do.

He'll snatch her and force her to follow him, so he can bring her to civilization. Heck, I'm sure she'll eventually find delight in meeting a real-life princess once he gets to rescue one ;) He needs to arm himself with another rock and hope for a beehive, or something along those lines.
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Thracia Alba
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Posted: Thu May 11, 2006 1:21 pm    Post subject:  

An interesting (and, moreover, different!) idea, Fauna, but I don't think even Coriander is that stupid. I mean, if the creatures of J'naeric Woods are afraid of her, what chance does he have? :shock: Besides, her wild-child aspect could possibly be what attracts him so. Would he really want to change that?

However, adding that option will allow me to put up a poll (which I so love to do!), so I'll add it. Seeing as it's the hardest option to write, I'm sure everyone will vote for it. Because that's just the way it goes around here, it would seem. ;)
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ethereal_fauna
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Posted: Thu May 11, 2006 2:45 pm    Post subject:  

Awww, c'mon. It'd be great watching him sneak up behind her with a rock- I'm sure the idea will pop into his head considering the success he's had with that weapon before. ;)

Then his subsequent ass-kicking will only endear him to her more, prompting him to take more extreme measures...everything from wrapping his arms around her ankles while she pounds on his head to rolling a log in her path to trip her up. He'll think of something. He's a creative fella.

And the priceless look on the elf's face as he watches all this- now that I want to read a description of...
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LordoftheNight
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Posted: Thu May 11, 2006 4:34 pm    Post subject:  

I don't know - maybe he should order the elf captures her instead - for her own protection that is - and brings her along with him.
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Ravenwing
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Posted: Thu May 11, 2006 8:41 pm    Post subject:  

Personally, I am anticipating Burrberry's encounter with the Vegetarian Eating Vampire. LOL.

I am in agreement with Fauna. The two most obvious ideas seem too predictable.
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Argonaut
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Posted: Thu May 11, 2006 9:58 pm    Post subject:  

I've read quite a few storys here as a lurker, but this one has made me actually want to join up an influence things :)

That said, here's my 2 cents. While I agree that Coriander can't just let the girl go off on her own no matter how capable she seems, I think he needs to get back into his role as Hero and party leader. Yes he seems to have misplaced his first questing party, but running into this girl is like fate giving him a new party to help recover his old one. He needs to convince her to join the quest, she knows something about tracking right, two trackers must be better than one. All he has to do is use his (questionable) leadership abilities to get his new party to work together and find the missing girls. Then with so many partners rescuing the princess will be easy. not to mention all the practice he getting at rescuing maidens.

I hope this gives you some good ideas, the story is fantastic so far. Also I must say that, being from California myself, I know just what it's like to be grody. :)
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Chinaren
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Posted: Thu May 11, 2006 11:28 pm    Post subject:  

*screams* Ahh! We are being invaded by strange speaking Californians!

Welcome to IF grody, I mean Argonaut. Where is Jason? Thought I would get that one in first. ;)
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Solomon Birch
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Posted: Fri May 12, 2006 12:32 am    Post subject:  

*hangs head in shame* Och, China, that was god-awful. Please don't think we're all like the crazy orange monster here Argo, he's just a nutter. ;) :D
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Thracia Alba
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Posted: Fri May 12, 2006 12:54 am    Post subject:  

Welcome to IF, Argonaut and fellow Golden-Stater! :D I'm glad someone sees what I mean. (And I do love your avatar. What is it?)

Fauna, I can see Coriander doing a great many things, but I could never, EVER see him intentionally hurting a lady in any way (even if she is a lady who could kick his ass with both hands tied behind her back). I could definitely see him begging and whining and making a general idiot out of himself, but sneaking up on her with a rock? Not happenin'. I do like your suggestion otherwise, though. Whee, there's a poll in my immediate future! :D

Speaking of which, I think I'll put up the poll tonight, as tomorrow afternoon I'll be heading off for the weekend trip to Arizona (which will probably be cool, though it's something of a crime to go to AZ and not see the Grand Canyon... but I digress). When I come back Sunday evening, I expect to see it nice and plump and happy. ;)
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ethereal_fauna
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Posted: Fri May 12, 2006 1:28 am    Post subject:  

Welcome Argonaut. :)

Quote: Fauna, I can see Coriander doing a great many things, but I could never, EVER see him intentionally hurting a lady in any way...

I think he might see it as less than hurting her, and more of rescuing her from herself.

If not that, then having a weak moment and succumbing to those primitive caveman instincts the unkempt wild-child has awakened within him. Can't you envision him pounding his chest, issuing forth the call of the wild, and grabbing her with a manly grunt?

Of course then all the true pain would start, along with some manly punching and a dragging by the hair- but he'll live through all that ;) and then resort to begging her.
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LordoftheNight
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Posted: Fri May 12, 2006 1:47 am    Post subject:  

I voted for trying to get them both to go his way, and winning.
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Ravenwing
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Posted: Fri May 12, 2006 5:39 am    Post subject:  

Voted for Coriander taking the lead.

Welcome to the City, Argonaut.

And I agree with Soily that was awful. :cool:
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Solomon Birch
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Posted: Fri May 12, 2006 5:50 am    Post subject:  

Nice view nice view nice view! It's what any hot blooded male would do! :D

*holds breath and awaits view* :shock: ;)
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Argonaut
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Posted: Fri May 12, 2006 10:09 am    Post subject:  

Thanks for the welcome everyone.

Chinaren: I am Jason, so your bad joke is already inherent in my nickname. :)

Thracia: My avatar is a self-portrait, yes I do have a crow on my hat, but it's made of plastic with feathers glued to it. So I'm pretty funny looking in person. :wink:
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Solomon Birch
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Posted: Fri May 12, 2006 11:31 am    Post subject:  

Wow, you drew that? Very good! :D

Edit: I've just looked at your website! Very very good stuff! I like Sai. :biggrin:
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Argonaut
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Posted: Fri May 12, 2006 1:26 pm    Post subject:  

Thanks Solomon, I just love the idea of a kung-fu fighting hamster :D
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Solomon Birch
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Posted: Fri May 12, 2006 4:04 pm    Post subject:  

Who doesn't!? :biggrin:
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Araex
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Posted: Sat May 13, 2006 12:12 pm    Post subject:  

"Everybody was kung-fu fighting,
Those kids was fast as lightning,
In fact it was a little bit frightening..."

Ah, good times, good times. I'm thinking that Alba's really got the right idea, but fauna does have something with the primitive-caveman aspect.

'lo Jason of Cali!
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Thracia Alba
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Posted: Sat May 13, 2006 7:43 pm    Post subject:  

Hey, everybody! Reporting from Scottsdale, AZ! I didn't think I'd be able to visit the site while out here, but one of my uncles thankfully brought a laptop. On the way over we stopped to eat in Blythe, CA, and I've had an opportunity to update my list of places you should never, EVER visit in the U.S.

1) Hannibal, Missouri
2) Blythe, California
3) Nevada

That's right; the whole state of Nevada. It's hot, dry, and the whole place smells like an ashtray. And Vegas? Only the most over-rated place in all the world. It's like the Boba Fett of geography, for crying out loud! Yecch.

Anyway.

Though I still believe Coriander would NEVER raise a hand to a lady, I am intrigued by Fauna's caveman suggestion. I feel I could easily work that into any of the options on the poll. I think I just might, too.

And Argonaut: You did that? That's excellent! (You're not a bad looking fellow, either. ;) )
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LordoftheNight
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Posted: Sun May 14, 2006 8:01 am    Post subject:  

I like Vegas...
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