Elves in the Temple - a Co8 FanFic and partial walk thru

Elves in the Temple - A Tale of the Circle of Eight​

Part the First

“The princess has yet to return, my lords.”

“What princess?” sang out a half dozen incomparably harmonious voices.

Glimmersong Wobblebottom had not planned to devote the last century to serving the High-Elven Council. Like most elves, he rarely planned anything at all. However, in a culture where respectable citizens might decide on a whim to spend the next century singing songs about butterflies, Wobblebottom possessed a rare and valued trait. He was able to concentrate on trivialities. Wobblebottom was able to think at length on issues such as where the food was coming from or, in this case, the location of popular members of the royal family.

“Princess Tillahi, my lords, and her current paramour, Lord Juffer,” explained Wobblebottom. “They’re more than a fortnight overdue.”

“Isn’t a tillahi a sort of fish?” sang out Lord Shinything.

Remembering Shinything’s over fondness for Elf-smoke, Wobblebottom held his patience and kept his voice calm. “No, my lords. Tillahi is of the blood royal, and has been a member of this council for well over three centuries. Tilapia is a sort of fish.”

“I could do with some tilapia” said Shinything, who often found himself puckish in the early afternoon. Immediately two more lords chirped in, singing out thoughtful odes to tilapia and sweet, haunting ballads on the general subjects of fish and post Elf-smoke snacks. None of the Elvish Lords proposed going out and getting any actual tilapia. More importantly, at least from the point of view of Wobblebottom, not a single Elvish Lord seemed willing to focus on the matter at hand. Wobblebottom determined to bring things back around to the missing princess.

“My lords,” shouted Wobblebottom, straining his voice in order to be heard above the incessant singing, “our Princess is missing! We must take action!”

While the majority of the council continued to sing, Lord Mountswiftly the Occasionally Coherent dragged himself away from his own hookah. Mountswiftly was quite fond of Tillahi (and reasonably fond of tilapia), and vaguely remembered something of her true mission.

“My lords,” boomed out Mountswiftly in a basso profondo quite unusual among the elves, “Wobblebottom is correct! This is a serious issue, and something must be done. I have a plan.”

Wobblebottom sighed in relief. Mountswiftly was well known as the most effective and reasonable member of the council, and the one least likely to turn up at meetings dressed as his favorite flower.

“The precedent for missing princesses is well established,” continued Mountswiftly, “and never fails. We must gather a group of poorly equipped tradesmen, small folk and school children, give them a vague description of the Princess and her entourage, and send them off to the petty hamlet nearest to the site at which she was last seen. Surely, such unlikely and ill-trained heroes shall bring our princess back to us!”

Despite Wobblebottom’s objections, the plan was agreed upon, and messengers were dispatched to gather the young heroes. Had those worthy small folk but known what fate held in store for them, they might very well have run shrieking from those messengers, but then that wouldn’t make for much of a story.

End Part the First

 

:clap: :clap: :clap: :clap: :clap:

 

This is really good. Very funny. More, please

 

ROFL! :drunk:

 

Part the Second

From the Journals of Jack B. Swift, Professional Adventurer, published 585, Greyhawk Press

I was working on my undergrad degree at UU back in 579. My girl was an elfin beauty named Kate, and my closest friend was a student my own age named Reynard T. Fox. Anyway, it all started when Kate got a letter from the High Elf Council of Celene.

“They’re looking for interns,” Kate told me. Then she started reading from the letter. “Opportunity for self motivated, pro-active young people in the highly competitive field of professional adventuring and princess rescue. Equal opportunity employer; Mixed teams containing representatives of a minimum of three humanoid races preferred.”

“Brilliant!” I was very excited. It’s tougher than it looks getting into adventuring. The days when you could just massacre a Kobold village and expect a passing noble to give you a job offer are long past.

Kate was a Thaumaturgy major, and I was majoring in Business with minors in Lock-Smithing and General Thuggery. Fox (lucky bastard) was a born spell caster; he’d only enrolled to learn how to scribe. Fox and I were human and Kate was an elf, so we were half way there.

“I know some gals” said Fox. He was close to a couple of Theology students, Bar and Perry, and he also recommended we ask his girl Dio along. Dio was in Natural Studies. I swear that guy tried to get into the pantaloons of half the girls in school. At first Kate and I weren’t too enthusiastic, until Fox told us the kicker. Perry was a dwarf. That made three humanoid races.

“It’s a sure thing” Fox said, and he was right. Fox talked to the girls, Kate sent off a letter to the High Elf Council, and we were in.

Fox introduced us to Bar (major in Applied Violence, minor in Results Oriented Prayer) and Perry (major in Subterranean Theology and a minor in Oerth Science), and we already knew Dio. We all got along well enough. We set off to meet with the High Elf Council.

“Odd, isn’t it?” We’d been on the road for a couple of days when Fox asked me that. I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“Isn’t what?” I asked him.

“It” he said.

“I’m going to thump you now” I said, and tried to. Bar and Perry pulled us apart before things went too far, and then he went on.

“Look,” said Fox, “here we are, not even a bread knife between us, just a couple of ravens, a big dog, and a pouch of cash. How are we meant to do any adventuring like this?”

“Paid you no attention in your basic adventuring courses, my friend?” said Perry. Both I and Fox looked over at her.

“Why does she talk like that?” I whispered to Fox, but she wasn’t done.

“We shall naturally come upon some good merchants well before any danger threatens,” said Perry, “and we shall find that our funds are more than sufficient to adequately equip ourselves with armor, and weapons, and all manner of things.”

“Been hitting the Elf Smoke?” I asked.

I felt like an idiot when we climbed over the next hill and saw a caravan. Perry looked smug.

The woman in charge of the caravan was gorgeous. Called herself the Jade Empress, though I suspect that was not her real name. Fox immediately attempted to chat her up, with no noticeable effect.

“Fox, Kate, give me your Ravens” I asked. Fox just handed his over (he’d named his Raven “Greed”; Kate’s was “Avarice”), but Kate argued.

“Why should I give you my Raven?”

“Look,” I said, “I need to haggle with this bunch. They’re hard, experienced merchants, and I’m not. That’s where your Ravens come in. Nothing like a pair of fat black birds glaring madly from your shoulders and crapping down your back to put a scare into a merchant. They’ll make any offer just to get rid of me.”

Kate looked dubious but handed Avarice over.

We did pretty well. By the time we were done, we all had weapons and (except for Fox and Kate, who never learned how to wear it properly) armor.

“What do you think?” Barbara asked, showing off the Gladiator Armor she’d selected. Bar was a tall girl, and healthy, and if you’ve never seen Gladiator Armor, well, I’ll just say that any humanoid male she faces will be too busy staring to attack or block.

“It’s gorgeous!” enthused Kate, who’d picked out a corset.

Fox and I were very quiet for the next leg of the trip, and I think both of us ended up with neck strain.

End Part the Second

 

Nice!

:clap:

 

HaHaHA!.. *laugh*

 

Part the Third

Wobblebottom peered down from a concealed balcony. Six fresh faced young people had responded to Lord Mountswiftly’s call. To an atypically conservative Elf such as Wobblebottom, the group milling about the council chambers seemed, frankly, unfit for pursuits beyond the Tavern Dancing and Stable Cleaning industries. When he expressed these feelings to Lord Mountswiftly, Wobblebottom was not reassured by his lordship’s response.

“Just so, Wobblebottom,” boomed his lordship, “just so! A fine collection of unlikely heroes! True, we could have done with an assistant pig keeper and maybe a shepherd, but this gaggle of academic misfits should do just fine!”

“A shepherd, Lord?” said Wobblebottom, trying to follow along.

“Quite so, Wobblebottom! Remember that Black Jay fellow? The boy in Hommlet? Never met a human so fond of sheep! Went on about them day in and day out! Even kept one in his tent, as I recall. Could barely sleep for the bleating! Prime hero material, shepherds!”

Wobblebottom tried to bring the conversation back to the present. “Your Lordship, what specific instructions am I to deliver?”

“Hmm? You’re to tell the lot of them to head over to Hommlet. Tillahi was meant to pass through that wretched place. Have them ask Jay what’s what and work from there.”

“Yes, Lord,” answered Wobblebottom, “and should I inform them of the Princess’s true mission?”

“What?!” Lord Mountswiftly was so shocked that his voice almost failed to harmonize with the constant background singing so common in Elfish settlements. “We can’t have that, Wobblebottom! They must stumble upon the truth on their own, or possibly with the guidance of surprisingly well informed wandering old men and talking animals. Revealing the Princess’s mission to them now would violate all the laws of narrative.”

Wobblebottom bowed his head in shame. His lordship was quite correct. “It shall be as you say, Lord.”

Wobblebottom headed down the stairs to send the brave young prospective heroes off to Hommlet. Two of the girls were in outfits that Wobblebottom found most distracting. He was both relieved and disappointed when they left.

At least the interview had marked a pleasant break from the singing.

End Part the Third

 

EX

CEL

LENT

!!!!


you are gifted with rythm, stylre and humor...

 

oh the plot holes, unless she's a tall dwarf or atleast tall in compared to the rest of the party and humaoids in general.

it doesn't stop it from being incredabley funny

 

Thanks. Also, argh. Perry is the Dwarf Cleric. Fixing now.

 

Part the Fourth

From the Journals of Jack B. Swift, Professional Adventurer, published 585, Greyhawk Press

“Those Elves were something,” said Fox.

I shrugged. “That’s Elves for you. Singing, archery and Elf-smoke. And really bad poetry. Not much more to them.”

About then, Kate smacked the back of my head. “I’m right here,” she said.

I was still rubbing the back of my head as we climbed over the next rise and saw Hommlet.

“That’s a weird sort of town” said Fox.

“It’s beautiful!” Dio was obviously taken with the place.

Perry was practically jumping up and down. “Yes! A true Adventurer’s Village!”

I groaned. She was right. Hommlet was small, too small. Fewer than a dozen or so cabins and only a couple of fields, yet it supported a well maintained road, a large church, a defensive tower, a tavern, several shops, and what looked like a small Druid’s hut. How could such a small population support that many businesses? Professional Adventuring 101: the Looting Economy.

We’d be lucky if we weren’t mobbed by goblins as soon as we set foot in the place.

We were actually mobbed by a small boy named Kent.

He was a typical farmer’s whelp, cute as a button and cut as a circus performer. Yet, as I talked with him, his eyes never met mine. I tried to trace his gaze.

His eyes were locked on Bar in her Gladiator Armor.

He fell into a sort of trance, babbling about his Master and changes to the world. Unfortunately, I’d made the mistake of looking over at Bar as well, and didn’t really catch much. Kate had to slap me again to snap me out of it, by which time the kid had wandered away.

Bar was smiling like the cat who ate the canary. “Told you it was good armor.”

“Did he say where Black Jay lived?” I asked.

“No” said Kate, for some reason angry.

“Alright people,” I said, “You know the drill. Basic adventuring; We start with the house furthest down the path on the left and then start moving through the town in a counter clockwise direction, stopping in each home, asking for rumors, and offering to solve every little problem of the villagers. I’ll do most of the talking, but Bar and Perry, I want you two ready to step in. Let’s move!”

As we headed to the furthest house down the path on the left, I heard Fox saying to Perry “Why should they tell us their problems?”

“Because we’re perfect strangers,” Perry said in her always optimistic tones. “It is well known that telling your most intimate problems to perfect strangers unburdens the soul, provides friendly entertainment, and allows for the possibility that the stranger may offer some solution, whereas telling these problems to your friends and loved ones is a sure path to becoming a social pariah, most especially in a small town.”

I nodded my agreement. A wise girl, which I suppose was to be expected of a Dwarven Divinity Student,

End Part the Fourth

 

LOL :largeclap