The Comedy of Weaponry Errors

[Elwen]

Ficlet

 

*This is something random I came up with for one of my new RP charas, Saria Williams. And how the heck did I manage to connect this to my novel? Weird. All kinds of interesting little spoilers for the novel, but I don’t really care, considering it only tells about the setup to the situation, not the outcome. *gets ideas as to how to throw this into the novel* Anyway, this is a *comedy* piece, with only a little angst. (unusual for me, ne?)

 

 

“So, what do we do now?” Ithil asked, raising an eyebrow at the petite girl who stood by him. “Sightsee?”

 

“Hell, no!” Saria Williams said, grinning insanely.

 

“Then what?” the moon spirit asked, sighing. He owed the teenager a great debt, considering that she had managed to free him from that demoness that had wanted to take him apart. Slowly. Why? Because she had felt like it.

 

Both females, that was-the demoness AND Saria. Ithil was convinced-even though it really wasn’t fair of him to hold that conviction, considering that he wasn’t the most logical of beings, either-that neither had fully thought out their plans before acting. The demoness had just been unlucky that the daughter of the high demon lord Morien had been the one to show up on a whim and on another of her infamous whims, had blasted the hell out of her instead of letting her toy with her latest victim. Nothing was left except a pile of ashes. What a shame that was.

 

Ithil wasn’t sorry at all. Stupid bint had it coming anyway. His only regret was that it had taken so long for someone to come along who had been able to tangle with her without getting messed up.

 

What he was sorry about, however, was getting involved with this mess. Morien had apparently made some kind of deal with the spirit of some crazy sociopath named Talia Ryder: apparently High Demons bound to violins and shades of crazy assassins had a great deal in common, and a great deal of free time on their hands. If Morien ever got free, then he would have to help Talia get back into the living world and in return, she would help him cause a lot of chaos. It was beyond Ithil’s comprehension how a ghost was going to be able to cause chaos, but apparently, according to what little Saria had found out from her father, Talia needed a female descendant to serve as a vessel. And she had one-all the dead assassin needed was a door into the living world.

 

Unfortunately, Morien had threatened to messily murder his daughter’s adoptive parents if she didn’t go around contacting various High Demons to get them to agree to help him out in his chaos-causing plans. Saria had dragged her feet as much as she could, but having her step-cousin/boyfriend get the hell beaten out of him by one of Morien’s lackeys to serve as a warning had shown her that Morien wasn’t kidding and meant business. Ithil owed Saria big, and by the demon code of honor (which also bound various types of spirits, except ghosts), he had to help her, like it or not.

 

“I want a big frickin’ sword.” Saria declared. Ithil just stared at her.

 

“Why?” he asked cautiously.

 

“I was doing some thinking.” Saria said.

 

“Amazing.” Ithil replied dryly. Saria grinned at him.

 

“I mean, here we are, going to be fighting for the great grand cause of evil and all that stupid jazz.” She said. “And I don’t even have a weapon. ”

 

“So you want a weapon.” Ithil said, sighing: he might have figured /that/ out for himself. Any sane person would have considered the power that Saria was gifted with weapon enough, but any sane person wouldn’t be a, the child of one of the generals of Hell’s legions, b, hanging around with a moon spirit, and c, a teenager with a hell of a lot of power.

 

“Not just any weapon. I want a /cool/ weapon, not a stupid one. So I want a big frickin’ sword.” Saria said, like that was the most logical thing in the world.

 

“It makes me feel better to know that you’re still a teenager underneath it all.” Ithil said even more dryly. “But wouldn’t an ordinary teenager be asking for a big frickin’ *gun*?”

 

Saria stuck her tongue out at him. “There are plenty of teenagers out there that wouldn’t scoff at a big frickin’ sword. And I’m not an ordinary teenager, in case you haven’t noticed. And regardless, I want a big frickin’ sword, and I’m going to get one.”

 

Ithil gave up. Well, it was better than Saria getting hold of a gun-*that* would be crazy, and while he was a moon spirit and thrived on insanity, there were some things that even he wouldn’t handle, and that was one of them.

 

“I assume that you want it to be functional. You’re going to have to go to a weaponsmith, and I’m not sure that there are too many left in the United States…”

 

Saria stomped her foot. “You’re being mean!” she said childishly.

 

Ithil really wondered how /this/ was supposed to be the daughter of the ruthless demon lord Morien. Until, of course, he remembered that she had ripped that demoness apart without blinking an eye.

 

“I know where one is, here in the city.” Ithil said. “But to get a sword made is going to be expensive as hell.”

 

“So what? I can always get money from my stupid father’s minions. I’ll just take it from the war readiness budget.” Saria said logically. “On the grounds that I won’t be ready to fight unless I have a weapon, and I won’t have a stupid one.”

 

Ithil shrugged. “Well, there are different types of swords.” He said to her as they left her apartment.

 

“No shit.”

 

“I didn’t mean that, though you’re right. I meant you can either get a plain one, or a magic one.”

 

Fox ears fairly perked up on Saria’s head as she heard the word ‘magic’.

 

“I want a big frickin’ *magic* sword.” she said firmly.

 

“That’s going to be even more expensive.” Ithil said.

 

“So?”

 

“And the smith can’t make a generic magic sword. There has to be a specific type of enchantment on the weapon.” He explained.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Protection…ability to slice through any armor…enhanced strength, agility, speed, enchanted to kill certain kinds of demons-you wouldn’t want that one-“

 

“Want to bet?” Saria muttered under her breath.

 

Ithil ignored her. “The ability to deflect or absorb magic…stuff like that, though there’s no guarantee that the smith would be able to do all of those options. If you want to get a sword that either can penetrate any armor or never misses-you can’t get both, the enchantments are mutually hostile-it’ll be double the cost.”

 

Saria considered for a moment. “Can I get a flaming sword?”

 

Ithil blinked. “Why?”

 

“I want a flaming vorpal sword. That would be kick-ass cool.” Saria said.

 

“A ‘flaming vorpal sword’? You have been playing too much D&D, or have serious delusions of grandeur.” Ithil said incredously. “And you can’t get a flaming vorpal sword. Those are for archangels, and you’re a-“

 

“Bastard child of a general of Hell’s legions.” Saria finished without bitterness. “Damn. Well, it *would* have been kick-ass cool. And if you’re going to have delusions of grandeur, you might as well go for the really satisfying ones.”

 

“So, what type of sword are you going to get?” Ithil said.

 

“I dunno. I’ll decide when I get there.” Saria said. “But I’m going to get a big frickin’ magic sword.”

 

Ithil was expecting her to start thinking and stay silent. Unfortunately for him-as he was starting to develop a migraine-he was wrong.

 

“Hey, Ithil. Can I get a Cold Fire flaming vorpal sword, or are those also only for archangels?”

 

~Owari~

[troubled sleep]

=claps= I like this! See, not eating angst flakes for breakfast isn't bad! And I didn't know there was a novel... but perhaps I just don't pay attention to what little people tell me...hmm...but anyways, so I liked this quite a bit and a big CONGRATULATIONS on your promotion to Quill Bearer as well... =runs away to locate a 'big frickin sword', if only because it sure sounds like fun and what else is there to do this far south?=

[Damon Inferel]

You caught a big smirk out of me... I don't generally get involved emotionally with reading, so no laughs, but it was very cute. I want a big frickin sword too, but like Ithil said, it's hella expensive. But, they can get them, and so will I... I even have a design... But anyway.

 

Just a note, you might want to watch some of the language though... try not to get too liberal, since, under technicality, the word shit shouldn't have neen in there in the first place... maybe not even ass... (Catching the irony in there?) But at least it was used tactfully and not offensively, unless you account for a blunt stare...

 

This was actually very good, considering it's one of the first comedies I've known you to conjure up, if not the first one... Very good ashke, and whether you write another one or not, I look forward to more stuff.