Outcasts?

[Peredhil]

Nuncio gazed down at the pair and their shrubbery with a toothy smile.

 

Squirrels. Bearing Yui Temae's Quillbearer's Quest Shrubbery.

 

Of course the delicately demure but rebel Yui would find a novel solution to her Quest.

 

As Nuncio stood staring at them, the squirrels continued to look hopefully back up at him. The six foot two inch Giant Guinea Pig was sharply turned out in a black tailored suit with narrow grey lapels. He wore a black fedora with grey silk band on his closely cropped blond wig.

 

He had an impressive amount of teeth.

 

"Uh, Shrubbery? Yui Imp? Inside?" Lewis prompted the obviously slow rodent with little words.

 

With a slow smile, Nuncio opened the door widely, spilling the crazy rhombus glow of the lanterns' light out into the courtyard.

 

"Oh please do come in." Nuncio stepped aside and made small urging motions with his clawed hands. "You'll want to take the Shrubbery back through that door to the right to the Elder of Initiates room."

 

"Ignore the sign asking for a geld - the turnstile turns without it."

 

As the squirrels took up their burden and started off across the room, Nuncio stood laughing silently behind them. This is JUST what the overly serious Pen needed in HIS opinion! Wait until he told Guildo!

 

A thought occurred to him in his humor.

 

"Guys?" He called softly after them as they disappeared back to the Recruitment office, "Do Wyvern's eat squirrels?"

[Guest Isachar HC]

"Isachar, I am going to... ouch...make this very simple for you," Kendricke stated furiously. "Get them... oww ...out of here! Out of the Halls, out of the Legion!"

 

The scene would have been almost comical, had it been any other mage crouched before him, but Isachar winced as Kendricke's stare bore into him. The two Legionnaires were in a hospital not far from the Halls, where paramedics had rushed the boy guildmaster to mere hours ago. Kendricke lay on his stomach, nurses removing needles from his lower abdomen and rear. The old child's fists clenched and unclenched as the spines were withdrawn, one by one, and with every needle pulled, Isachar could see his guildmaster's blood being pushed further and further past boiling.

 

"But, they didn't mean anything by it..." Isachar began, but Kendricke's scream, a mixture of pain and rage cut him off.

 

"I... yow ...don't care what on earth your squirrels were... !@#$&$ ...trying to do," Kendricke's eyes were starting to tear, but that only seemed to make his glare all the more menacing. "I want them gone, no~w!" The guildmaster howled in pain as the nurses removed the last needle from his body; it drove the point home. Kendricke sighed with relief.

 

One of the nurses knelt next to the boy guildmaster and patted him on the head. "All right, sir, we've removed the objects," she said in an impossibly cheerful voice. "Now we have to sterilize the wounds." Kendricke paled and tried to squirm out of his restraints, to no avail. A long silence arose before anyone spoke.

 

"Isachar," the boy guildmaster said finally, whimpering over his fate. "I am so~ going to make you a diplomat for this."

 

The young knight's eyes froze up in horror. "Y-you wouldn't!" he stuttered.

 

"Watch me."

 

Kendricke's threat was left to hang in the air as he was carted off by the medical staff. Isachar slumped to the floor, wailing in self pity.

[Guest Isachar HC]

Simon stared out the window, looking lazily at the clouds drifting slowly across the horizon. They'd gotten themselves into a world of trouble this time. Behind him, Lewis was letting out a long string of expletives, well, their version of them, anyways. They'd long been cursed with the inability to express their emotions accurately. When the urge to cuss was great enough to be expressed despite their conditioning, all that they'd find themselves able to communicate would be strange and obscure silverware references.

 

"...mother sporking knife," Lewis finished, exhausting himself with the effort. Simon watched as his companion let himself fall to the floor. They both knew they were in for it.

 

And Simon knew exactly who's fault it was.

 

"How could you let us..."

 

"Don't," Lewis' angry reply cut him off. "Just don't, right now."

 

Simon glowered at his friend who simply stared up at the spire's steepled ceiling. How could Lewis have dug them so deep.

 

It had been a simple enough scheme. After an exhausting amount of research and interviews, they'd discovered that the greatest amount of imp sightings had occurred in and around the Tavern of the Morning Rose. They began their stakeout of the area months ago, trying to scope out the area, but for a long time, the Tavern had seemed like a dead end. They'd met one person they thought might have been an imp, but her height profile didn't match; she was just a stalker of the shadows: an imp wannabe.

 

The stakeout had all but exhausted the Squirrel Duo's patience, and they were just about ready give up and leave when she came. Spouting babble and paradoxes, Slinky had walked back into their lives as enigmatically as she'd left it, and with the same spine tingling suddenness. And the Squirrel Duo had promised themselves to put a stop to it.

 

Their state of the art imp traps came, and they immediately set out to deploy them. Simon had had his reservations about their effectiveness, but Lewis had seemed so certain.

 

The squirrel almost laughed at the memory. The dealer had called them Imp traps, anyway. In retrospect, Simon had doubted the man had ever seen an imp in his life.

 

With grim clarity, Simon knew that they had been conned, however Lewis tried to sugar coat it. The powerful intellect of the Squirrel Duo had failed to recognize the swindler for what he was, so entranced were they in their fixation with stopping the imps. Oh Simon supposed the traps would catch imps, were they foolish enough to step into them, but they wouldn't catch only imps. That fact had probably become clear to Kendricke first; the boy guildmaster had intended to stop by the pub for his favorite drink, a "Red Headed Slut," when he'd taken a wrong step in a dark corner near the Tavern.

 

Isachar had paled when Lewis had told him the news. Simon would've expected the mage to go ballistic, but he gave the Squirrel Duo a look that seemed to convey pity. That made Simon all the more nervous.

 

It was all Lewis' fault.

[Guest Isachar HC]

It was all Isachar's fault.

 

Lewis clawed the floor in frustration, his tail swishing back and forth fearfully. He wasn't sure how or why yet, but he knew that whatever else happened, this was all Isachar's fault. He hadn't stopped them, never warned them. The Duo were still so new to Terra; mistakes like this were bound to happen.

 

Exasperated, Lewis stood up and began pacing. He spared a quick glance at Simon, but all his partner did was sneer at him, so he gave that up quickly.

 

He was still pacing when the door finally opened. Isachar walked in, looking very weary. He crawled into an easy chair and slouched for all he was worth.

 

"What happened?" Simon's voice was almost trembling. Lewis shook his head and closed his eyes, remain calm. It was all Isachar's fault.

 

"I'm going to be a diplomat," Isachar mumbled dejectedly.

 

Lewis and Simon both gasped. How could Kendricke do that to Isachar over this?! He'd deserved it for a long time, as far as Lewis was concerned, but why now? Then a new fear crept into the squirrel. If Isachar was punished that severely for simply owning them, then...

 

Simon had the same train of thought. "What about us...?"

 

It was a long time before anything happened, but Isachar rose from his chair and opened the door. "You're out," he said quietly, closing the door behind him as he left.

 

"Look at what you did!" Lewis heard Simon scream. He turned around and barely had time to dodge the acorn hurled at him.

 

"What I did!" Lewis exclaimed incredulously, scurrying into the rafters. "This is as much your fault as it is mine!" Which was very little, he reminded himself silently. Isachar was to blame for everything, and he did mean everything.

 

"If you hadn't let us get duped!" Simon shouted as he chased after Lewis, throwing another acorn ahead of him. The missile whizzed by Lewis. Damn, when had Simon's aim gotten that good.

 

"Well I didn't hear you being the nay sayer," Lewis countered, hopping over another acorn and jumping down onto the easy chair.

 

"But I'm the quiet, withdrawn stereotype!" Simon screamed, jumping down in chase. "You're the cocky, know-it-all template! By definition, everything is your fault!"

 

Lewis couldn't fault the logic there, but that didn't mean Simon was right. He hissed in rebellion and drew his own acorn. That was when Isachar interrupted them by re-entering the room. Lewis ignored him; Simon did likewise.

 

The two squirrels were far into their acorn war when Isachar had finally had his fill. "Enough!" his voice boomed, halting the squirrels' quarrel almost instantly. He jabbed his index finger out towards the couch; both Lewis and Simon took the hint and sat down, inching as far away apart as they could. When the mage was sure he had their undivided attention, he began.

 

"What's done is done. Get over it," Isachar growled. Lewis winced, and he heard Simon eep, but both of them nodded. "That's better," Isachar said, smiling slightly. "Now, I've found a place where you can stay."

 

Lewis blinked; he hadn't even thought of what was going to happen to them out there. Terra wasn't a friendly place for squirrels. He'd seen the battle reports; his entire class had. It was gruesome. Isachar had been looking ahead; Lewis would have to thank him for it someday...a day a long time from now.

 

"Really?" Simon asked uncertainly. Lewis could understand his partner's reservations, but anything would be better than sleeping in the wildernesses out there.

 

"Yeah," Isachar nodded in affirmation. "But you'll have to do a bit of heavy lifting." He handed the Duo a piece of paper.

 

Lewis glanced at the letter and started shaking his head. "Oh no..." he stated, stomping his foot down. "Not me..." Simon wasn't quite as bad, but he looked a little squeamish about the idea.

 

"It's your only roof now, guys," Isachar sighed. "I don't know anyone else who'd take a bunch of squirrels in off the street, unless..." He gave the two squirrels a sidelong glance. "Either of you know martial arts?"

 

Both Lewis and Simon glared at Isachar angrily, the young mage threw up his hands defensively. "Just a question," he chuckled. "I suggest you get started," he jerked up a thumb towards the door. "The item in question can be found in my quarters here in the Spire. Good luck to the both of you; I'll stop by and visit some time."

[Guest Isachar HC]

All was quiet in the common room, save for a few patrons burning the midnight oil. Most of the ones still awake had quills in their hands and tapped them lazily against pieces of parchment, but there were still a few who read lazily by the fire.

 

It was then, in this depressingly late hour of the night, that one of those few heard a faint rapping at their door. The patron had read stories about unfriendly birds who flew in unwelcomed and began squawking a single depressing word over and over, which in turn drove the tenant into guilt-wracked madness. Thus it was with caution that he opened the door, opening it just slightly and peering through the crack.

 

What he found before him could only be described as...well...strange.

 

Two squirrels stood outside in the shivering cold, a shrubbery hoisted upon their backs. They appeared to have come a great distance, so haggard and bedraggled were their furs, but they sighed in relief when they noticed that the door had opened. Heaving the shrubbery to the ground with a sigh, the two squirrels bowed in greeting to the patron.

 

"Hi," said one of the duo. "We're here delivering this Shrubbery on behalf of the imp lady... oof" The first one stops as he is elbowed by his partner. "Err, Yui Temae, Huntress and member of the Pen is Mightier than the Sword."

 

The other one nods his agreement. "Yes, and do you think you could put us up for the evening, and maybe, well, forever?"

 

End?

 

Lewis and Simon,

The Squirrel Duo

Edited by: Isachar HC at: 9/2/01 12:31:08 am

[Wyvern]

Lewis and Simon had been sitting in Wyvern's office for hours now and STILL the overgrown lizard had yet to show his ugly mug. They had asked Wyv's secretary about his whereabouts and she had simply replied that he had gone on a coffee break and probably wouldn't be back for the next couple of weeks. Lewis and Simon had found this astonishing until they learned that Wyv's lunch breaks could last up to 7 years in length...

 

Suddenly, much to the surprise of the two squirrels and the secretary, Wyvern comes barging into the office. He wears a pink flamingo outfit and carries in his possesions only a single, stained brown paper bag. Wyv goes straight to the easy chair of his desk and slumps into it immediatly. He then procedes to bang his head against the desk continously.

 

"You're back early sir..." inquires his secretary "... business been rough?"

 

Wyvern murmers something incomprehensibly, then growls "Whoever said there was oil to be found in the tropics is an idiot..."

 

The secretary nods, then turns to an enormous list labeled 'Top Ways of Making Geld' and crosses out 'Dressing up as a flamingo and camofloging yourself in the tropics looking for oil'.

 

Wyvern looks up from his mopings and notices the two squirrels that are looking eagerly at him. "What do you two runts want?" murmers the lizard "Whatever it is, I'm not in the mood..."

 

"We were wondering if we could-"

 

"No." interrupts Wyvern "Now leave me alone..."

 

"But you haven't heard us out!" cries Lewis "This is absurd! What kind of recruiter are you?!"

 

"So you want to join, eh...?" Wyvern laughs to himself. "Bring me some geld and I'll think about it."

 

 

------------------------------

 

Almost a Dragon...

 

"My life is like one big crime: I try to scheme through it." -Common, "The 6th Sense"

 

Owner of the Decanter of Endless Booze.

[Yui-chan]

... and the shadow behind Wyvern's chair stirs, bringing two sets of squirrel ears to instant attention. Simon gasps, and leans over to whisper to Lewis while the Pen's Recruitment Tyrant... er... Elder drones on about fees and overheads, working towards a mind-boggling initiation due.

 

"Does this place have Imps, too?"

 

Lewis shrugs, scowling thoughtfully at the now-still patch of darkness. "Could be. I don't remember any reports of sightings, here, but .... those Imps get around."

 

His eyes fixed behind the droning Wyvern, Simon just nods. "... we may need a few tr-"

 

"DON'T say it." Lewis' glare should have started Simon's fur smoking. "Let's not get kicked out of this place before we're allowed to stay. Besides, it's probably just-"

 

He doesn't get to finish the thought as a voice breaks the monotony of Wyvern's diatribe.

 

"You won't get a single geld from them, Lizard, and you know it." Wyvern jumps about five feet, landing just behind the squirrel duo and looking for all the world like he's ready to bolt out the door at a moment's notice.

 

Smirking, Lewis turns to Simon. "I told you."

 

His furry partner frowns, brow ridges furrowing. "You did not. You never said a word."

 

"Yeah, well I was about to." Lewis turns pointedly back to the Huntress' form as she steps out of the shadow, a smug look plastered on his face just to annoy Simon.

 

Yui laughs softly, glancing from a hyperventilating Wyvern down to the two furry Legionnaires. "Hello, gentlesquirrels. It's nice to see you here. I hope everyone has already given you the warning about not listening to any of our dear Elder of Initiates' demands for money."

 

The recovered almost-dragon in question rewards his Quill-Bearer with a shrivelling glare before adopting his most placating innocent look (which is about as placating and innocent as Bill Clinton). "... I was only going to ask for a little. Really..."

 

The Huntress merely raises a brow and stares, and after a few minutes of hopefully clinging to the expression, Wyvern wilts and mutters, "Oh, all right. No charge..."

 

Yui smiles brightly and steps over to the trio, patting Wyvern on the shoulder wordlessly before she turns her attention to the squirrels down by her feet. With a curious look, she crouches down to the pair.

 

"Lewis. Simon. Nuncio told me you were here, so I thought I'd best check in on you. I suppose that, given your current location in Wyvern's office, I need not ask you why the Legion's dynamic Squirrel Duo is here... But I'm curious. Where is Lord Isachar?"

[Jechum]

Jechum floats in…

 

All in the room take a step back.

 

Wyvern quickly recomposes himself.

 

“Wyvern would you please stop jumping every time Yui comes around. Granted she is an exceptional beauty but outward appearances are only skin deep.”

 

Jechum then turns his full attention to Yui.

 

Yui takes a step back as every shadow and illusion seems to disappear.

 

“Your skills and talents are unquestionable, and I’m sure there is a good reason why my Elder of Initiates jumps at your presence. If you feel your assist is required, by all means help out, but please stop short of showing disrespect or forcing an Elders hand. Remember this is Wyvern’s area of responsibility and here he is one of the Guild’s Elders.”

 

Jechum withdraws his attention and focuses back onto the room.

 

“Wyvern, handle this as you see fit but remember this is a non-profit organization! You can request for geld all you want. Just don’t let me find out you actually acquired it and didn’t turn it over to the Community Chest.”

 

Jechum floats out think about squirrels running about and following Yui line of thinking… where is Lord Isachar.

[Guest Isachar HC]

Simon bows his head, trying to take measure of the events that have occurred since they'd arrive. His feet dangled off the surface of the chair and his tail swished back and forth fitfully: They'd been greeted by a six foot, two inch giant guinea pig, were told to go to an office, all the while lugging that shrubbery on their backs (he found it particularly rude that the guinea pig hadn't even offered to lend a hand), where they'd met a lizard in an pink flamingo shirt who seemed quite distressed over his financial situation, who had, since demanding payment from the squirrel duo, been reprimanded by a lady who stalked the shadows like an imp and a loremaster who hovered just above the ground like a certain street magician.

 

All in all, it was a peculiar morning.

 

Lewis, on the other hand, was quite upset. Ever since arriving, the only words that had any staying power in his mind were those referring to Isachar. Here they were, offering their services and all that anyone in this damn organization could think about was where on earth was the Spoony Bard?!

 

He harrumphed and leaned back.

 

"Do you think they're going to let us stay?" Simon asked after a while.

 

Lewis let loose a few spork references and sat up. "I think all that they care about is where the heck Isachar is," Lewis muttered after a moment.

 

"Where IS he, anyway," Simon asked, daring to provoke Lewis further. If Isachar put in a good word in for them, maybe they'd get a little finality to this whole situation.

 

"Spooned if I know," Lewis snorted, not wanting to pursue the subject.

 

"Why don't you call him, get the newb down here," Simon pressed. "Maybe he can make some sense out of all these oddballs."

 

"I'd prefer getting forked up the salad plate."

 

"How beautifully articulate of you."

 

Lewis grunted and tossed him a cellular phone. "If you want him down here so badly, you do it."

 

Simon snatched the phone out of the air and dialed up Isachar's quarters in the Spire of the Morning Star. The little phone rang a few times before someone answered.

 

"Who is this?" came a strange voice. It was definitely male, but most certainly not Isachar. Not nearly prissy enough.

 

Simon frowned. "I think that's my line."

 

The voice was silent for a little while. "Where's Isachar?"

 

Simon's frowned deepened. "You're two for two, buddy."

 

"Who is this!" the voice demanded.

 

"You first," Simon retorted

 

"Nu huh, I asked you first!"

 

"Only because you got the jump on me!"

 

"Doesn't matter, them's the rules."

 

Simon sighed, quickly getting tired of this. "Fine, this is Simon," he growled as viciously as a cute, little squirrel could. "Now who the spork are you?"

 

"Lord Mortanius," the voice replied formally. "Knight Lieutenant of the Order of the Morning Star."

 

"Spiffy," Simon replied, not particularly impressed. "Now where's Isachar?"

 

"Your guess is as good as mine," Mortanius grumbled. "He hasn't been in the Spire or the Legion Halls for almost three days."

 

"Have you tried Iverlen?" Simon asked, referring to Isachar's home fortress in the heart of his personal territory.

 

"And pay that kind of long distance!" Mortanius exclaimed incredulously. "The little bugger's not worth that much."

 

Simon found himself thinking how great Lewis would get along with this new Knight Lieutenant. Into the line, the squirrel said, "Fine. Call this line if you find him." He hung up with out waiting for a response.

 

After a few moments of conflict, in which Simon's sense of self preservation successfully sieged his sense of stinginess for the amount of land necessary to generate the geld to pay for the long distance call to Iverlen, Simon dialled up Isachar's personal line.

 

"Hello?" came a voice. This voice was also not Isachar, but it was a lot closer, being that it was female. Simon recognized this one, however. It was Elisabeth, Isachar's secretary, which basically meant she did everything from troop training to battle marching while Isachar sat in the Tavern and bugged the heck out of the Legion's leadership. Suffice it to say, the squirrel duo got along great with her. They'd go out bar hopping Friday nights and share dryly amusing anecdotes about Isachar's screw ups. These events usually lasted until Sunday Morning.

 

"Hello, Liz?" Simon greeted happily. "It's Simon. Any idea where Isachar is right now?"

 

"Hi Simon!" Liz replied cheerfully. "The boss is...well...resting right now. I'll tell you all about it on Friday." She sighed loudly into the receiver.

 

"That bad, huh?"

 

"See for yourself. I'll connect you."

 

"Connect me, what?" Simon asked, but she was already putting his call through. Isachar wasn't even in Iverlen; where on earth was he?

 

"Moshi moshi?" came Isachar's weary voice.

 

"Isa?" Simon was baffled. Isachar was almost always disgustingly perky, except when he was in those weird, angsty moods. At those moments, Simon found Isachar to be a genuinely likable guy. But maybe that was just because Simon took some kind of perverse joy in seeing Isachar depressed.

 

"Simon?" Isachar's voice picked up a little bit, and for a moment, Simon's spirits sunk.

 

"Yep," the squirrel replied warily.

 

Isachar was quiet for a long time, and Simon relaxed. Nothing good usually came from a prolonged silence.

 

"Have you seen my towel?"

 

Simon boggled. "What?"

 

"My towel," Isachar repeated. "I seem to have misplaced it."

 

"Why, in the Developer's war-torn Terra, are you looking for a towel?"

 

"How else will I get people to think that I have a toothbrush, washcloth, soap, compass, map, gnat spray, tin of biscuites, flask..." He droned on for about five minutes.

 

Simon was silent for a long time. "I'm not even going to ask," he said quietly. "Look, Isachar, we need you to get down to the Pen. There seems to be some..."

 

"Hold that thought," Isachar interrupted. Then he started talking to someone apparently in the room with him. "Yes, I did call for you. No, no, I didn't take my medication. You see, I don't think you've adequately killed my mattress; I could swear that it was flooping about just a second ago. Yes, I know there are no personal calls aloud here, but--hey! Give that back! I'm trying to talk to my squirrel!"

 

"Excuse me?" came a deep voice that radiated annoyance.

 

"Yes?" Simon answered slowly.

 

"We don't allow our patients to have personal calls," the voice stated. "You'll have to disconnect."

 

"What happened to him?"

 

The voice was silent for a moment. Simon was afraid he had hung up, but then the voice gave a loud sigh.

 

"We'd received a call about some mage attempting to bodily harm himself," the voice said quietly. "We arrived to find this man throwing himself onto the ground. He claimed he was trying find a mana efficient way to fly. We thought we'd lock him up for the night, but he just got weirder and weirder. The shrinks'll take a crack at him tomorrow morning."

 

"What's wrong with him?" Simon asked, aghast.

 

"Dunno," the voice replied. "All we found on him was a strange device with the words 'DON'T PANIC' printed on it."

 

"All right," Simon said slowly, digesting the new information. "Thanks." He hung up.

 

"So how'd it go?" Lewis asked, now lying down on his back.

 

Simon told him.

 

"Figures," Lewis muttered and stared up at the office. "Nice decor."

 

(OOC: For those of you who have been wondering where I have been for the last week or so. Between "work" and Archmaging, I've finally gotten around to reading the Hitchhiker's series, and I am enthralled by it. So sorry for not keeping up appearances and all that sort of thing.)

Edited by: Isachar HC at: 9/11/01 1:53:17 am

[Peredhil]

open OoC Comment

The Player behind Peredhil bows his head for a moment in memory of HIS first read of the Hitchhiker's five book trilogy.

He had to read each one individually, waiting for the next to be published.

What a genius! If I could write with such creativity humor and flair - I still wouldn't be Douglas Adams.

 

May he rest in peace.

 

Oh - the Pen's Loremaster, Jechum, is also an international towel salesman - get your towel before Armageddon!

 

close OoC comment

[Wyvern]

OOC: Indeed, the Hitchhiker's Guide series are undoubtedly some of the funniest books I've ever read...

 

Anyway, onto the acceptences...

 

IC:

 

Looking from one squirrel to the other, Wyvern solemnly crosses his arms over his chest.

 

"What's the matter? Couldn't get in touch with your boss...?"

 

Lewis and Simon both look towards each other and then fall to their knees, groveling at Wyvern's feet.

 

"Please, Mr. Wyvern..." pleads Simon with tears in his eyes "We need a place to stay... we don't have the geld you want, but we can pay you in acorns..."

 

Nodding, Lewis presents Wyvern with a large bag filled to the brim with acorns. Wyvern looks through the bag thoughtfully, then says:

 

"Gee... you guys would really give up all these acorns you've gathered just to join the Pen?"

 

"Oh yes!" cheer Lewis and Simon simultaneously "We don't have geld, but you can have all the acorns!"

 

"Hmmmm..." Wyvern considers it for a moment "Nope, sorry. Rejected."

 

Yui slaps Wyvern on the back of the head and Jechum kicks him in the face at the same time. Peredhil takes the bag of acorns and dumps it over Wyv's head. Lumpenproletariat steps on Wyvern's foot for the hell of it.

 

"You greedy little newt!" cries an enraged Jechum "Is that all you ever think about?! Geld?!"

 

"No..." mutters a severely battered Wyvern "Geld and women..."

 

"Well..." mutters Jechum "In this case, you're lechery won't make any difference. In the main Codex of the Pen, it's written that the doors of the Pen are open to those scholars pure of heart and in search of an abode. Particularly if they're celebrity squirrels... Yui, if you'd please read page 1347, passage LXVIII."

 

Dragging out an absolutely enormous book, Yui flips the pages until she's reached the appropriate segment. Clearing her throat, she reads:

 

"Passage LXVIII: segment 1. The doors of the Pen shall open, and remain opened, to those scholars who no longer have a place which they may call home. These scholars, particularly if the scholars are celebrity squirrels, shall be let into the Pen without hesitation or denial..."

 

Yui stops for a moment and gazes blankly at the last sentance of the page, which was scrawled in an all-to-familiar almost dragonic hand writing...

 

"... as long as you pay Elder Wyvern mucho geld and become his slave for life."

 

"WHAAAAAT?!!!!" cries Jechum.

 

The entire crowd gazes in fury towards the overgrown lizard. Wyvern whistles to himself innocently.

 

OOC: Isachar, I'm accepting you as an intiate, BTW. I consider your posts to be, quite frankly, of a Zool/Haruchi ranked humor (i.e hilarious). I would accept you in the recruitment story, but I'm having way too much fun with it now... ;p We'll just have to see how the story works out...

 

 

------------------------------

 

Almost a Dragon...

 

"My life is like one big crime: I try to scheme through it." -Common, "The 6th Sense"

 

Owner of the Decanter of Endless Booze.

Edited by: Wyvern00  at: 9/12/01 7:46:07 pm

[Guest Isachar HC]

(OOC: It's been a full two weeks! Blame it on college, blame it on Calculus!)

 

Simon eyed the Wyvern carefully. He didn't like this one little bit. Apparently, several other members of the Pen weren't quite taken with the almost dragon's approach either. Yui, Peredhil, and Jechum all pounce rather furiously atop the Pen elder. Simon glanced over at his partner to gauge his reaction and found the squirrel to be grinning mischeviously. Simon groaned; he knew he wasn't going to like this.

 

"So let me just get this straight," Lewis asserted. "You want some kind of compensation for our continued presence in this establishment." Wyvern's sinewy head appeared from out of the scuffle and smiled; he nodded once. "And you refuse to accept the established squirrel currency, aka the nut," Lewis continued. Again, the almost dragon's head removed itself from the fray and nodded once.

 

Lewis held up his hand, making his best effort to form a V-sign with a paw. "Perfect!" he said. "Will thirty million be enough?"

 

The fighting stopped and all eyes turned to the Squirrel Duo. Wyvern boggled for a moment but quickly made his face solemn. "Ahem," he coughed. "Yes, I think that will suffice."

 

Simon stared incredulously at Lewis. "What on the Nine English Terras are you thinking!" he exlcaimed. "You know we don't have that kind of money."

 

Lewis grinned toothily. "But they do," he said simply and immediately swiped the cell phone out of Simon's grasp, then he was gone, his full attention drawn by the call he was placing. Simon sighed and pulled out his ear muffs. There was going to be a lot of yelling soon. He could feel it.

 

The little squirrel was not disappointed.

 

It all began with Jechum himself receiving a phone call. He withdrew a very sleek cell phone from his robes (Never doubt the buying power of an international towel salesman!) and answered the call. Simon watched as his expression slowly began to fade from one of disappointment and anger to befuddlement and rage. It was quite frankly the most well defined change Simon had ever seen in a person's expression and watched with deep interest the subtle changes in the Loremaster's face...and the not so subtle ones, particularly the murderous glare that he sported.

 

Jechum withdrew a small thirteen inch television set from his robes and placed the power cord into a socket near the back of Wyvern's office. After a few minutes of fiddling with the small set's rabbit ears, the screen settled on a televised newscast. Retired-mage-turned-Terran-journalist Discordia calmly looked into the screen.

 

"This is Terran Channel Four, your best coverage of the latest and the greatest in Terran News," Discordia began in a brilliant television voice. "We're coming to you live with a breaking story from the General Assembly Court Houses, where a class action lawsuit has been filed against the Banquet Hall Big-wigs, The Pen is Mightier than the Sword."

 

"What!" Wyvern said incredulously.

 

"Yes, the Pen is being sued by minority representatives of the Squirrel Union for their discrimination against the squirrels of Terra," Discordia continued. "Apparently one of their elders allegedly tried to charge an entree fee for two aspiring Squirrel intellectuals."

 

"'Aspiring'!" Lewis shouted. " Aspiring?"

 

Simon felt Wyvern's glare on him and quietly groaned. He carefully placed his ear muffs over his head. Hopefully it would all be over quickly.

 

"There has been a great deal of celebrity involvement from Squirrel Union members, and we go live to our man inside the Assembly."

 

"Thank you, Discordia," came a man's voice. The screen changed to a middle aged man backdropped by the General Assembly. All around them was a sea of squirrels, protesting quite loudly. "As you can see, there is a great swell of support from the common woodland creatures, but what has been even more amazing have been the celebrity support that has turned out to match the public's cry."

 

The man took a moment to wade through the squirrels and slowly approached the courthouse itself. "I got the chance to arrange an interview with one of those celebrities, and if I can just get through here, we'll be able to get his whole take on the scene."

 

Slowly, the reporter made his way to the court house and found himself in front of a mildly warm fire. Upon closer inspection, the tiny inferno was actually a burning creature, and not just any creature, a squirrel.

 

"BurningSquirrel, if we could have a few moments of your time...," the reporter began.

 

"They doused my tail!" wailed BurningSquirrel, and he clutched his wet tail tightly to his chest.

 

"Err, the Pen actually doused..."

 

"My tail!" moaned the burning effigy, again cutting off the reporter.

 

"Why on earth would the Pen is Mightier than the Sword douse your tail?"

 

BurningSquirrel blinked and turned to the reporter, as if seeing him for the first time. "Huh? The Quill is larger than the what-its?"

 

"Right..." the reporter said, and he backed away slowly.

 

Meanwhile, BurningSquirrel took a moment to gaze at his surroundings. "Where the hell am I?"

 

Simon shook his head. He found that it was a marvel of physics that BS could actually get the alcohol past his lips at all, let alone drink as much as he usually did.

 

Jechum was screaming on his cell phone. "What do you mean, 'settle'! No, I don't think their case is airtight! 'Snowball's chance in hell'?" Jechum finally gave up and asked, "How much are they asking for?" Simon heard a figure named and glared at Lewis, who had a very cocky smile on his face.

 

"Fine," Jechum said and hung up. He glared for a moment at Lewis, then at Wyvern. Finally, he sighed and slumped on a couch.

 

Lewis pulled out a miniature checkbook. "So Mr. Wyvern, how much were you asking for, thirty million?" He tore out a check and handed it to the almost dragon. "That should cover it."

 

Wyvern's roar was enough to make Simon's ears ring even through his muffs. Lewis scampered out of the office, taking a moment to grab Simon and drag the baffled squirrel out with him.

 

They stopped outside of Wyvern's office, and Simon took the moment to pick himself up and dust off. He beckoned for Lewis to hurry up, but the squirrel was busy talking with Wyvern's secretary. The young woman pulled out a sheet of paper, and upon Lewis' request, handed the small squirrel a pen.

 

In one smooth, horizontal stroke, Lewis marked something on Wyvern's immensely long list. Then he threw himself off the desk and was once again fleeing from the almost-dragon into the depths of the Pen's sanctuary. Simon shook his head and followed.

 

As the two squirrels fled, the secretary took a moment to glance at what the little creature had marked on Wyvern's "Top Ways of Making Geld List". She blinked as she discovered that he had crossed out something, she shifted her glasses and read, "Strong-arm a pair of homeless squirrels into making you rich despite all of your most esteemed colleagues' objections."

 

Meanwhile, inside Wyvern's office, Jechum moped over what the squirrels and his elder of initiates had wrought upon the Pen's coffers.

 

"By the Armageddon clock's final chime, it's raining!"

 

Jechum heard the field reporter's comment and idly wondered what kind of beatnik reporter would still be impressed by rain. He glanced up at the television set and boggled.

 

Outside of the court house, the squirrels participating in the protest were wailing in pain, clutching arms and grabbing pieces of their body as though they were wounds. As raindrops struck them, the little woodland creatures doubled over in pain, falling to the ground only to be struck by more and more droplets.

 

It was a slaughter.

Edited by: Isachar HC at: 9/29/01 10:35:13 pm