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Old 03-11-2007, 04:07 PM   #14
Estelyn Telcontar
Princess of Skwerlz
 
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Join Date: Jan 2002
Location: where the Sea is eastwards (WtR: 6060 miles)
Posts: 7,645
Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!Estelyn Telcontar has reached the Cracks of Doom and destroyed the Ring!
Gravendil’s light-footed, sure-footed Elven steps led him rapidly further in and further up, following the direction Merisuwyniel had taken earlier. Concern for her welfare filled his mind, perhaps not very logically. After all, she had survived the greatest part of her adventures without him, coming through victorious as well as flawlessly coiffed and attired. Surely this small island could present no danger that would imperil her more than combat with the Dread Developer himself?

Nevertheless he sped up the wooded hillside, dodging tree trunks both vertical and horizontal, until he was almost at the pinnacle. He entered a clearing, pausing (no, not for breath – running is of course effortless for an Elf!) to get his bearings. To his astonishment, a completely unexpected sight met his eyes.

There stood a female, to all appearances Orcish in nature, though her only deformations seemed to be abnormally swollen mammary glands. Strangely enough, those did not rend her unattractive to him.

She was clad – well, at least those body parts that were clad – in a dark material, neither hard as metal nor flowing as fabric, but shining and supple, following every swaying movement of her lithe body. Had he been capable of coherent thought and speech at that moment (he was not), he would have said that it was neither feminine nor practical, though it certainly affirmed her gender and did not hinder her with any superfluous abundance.

One of her hands clasped the slender trunk of a birch tree, apparently needing its support for her slow, rhythmic motions. She sang, and as Gravendil involuntarily drew closer, he heard the words of her song.

The minute you walked in the woods
I could see you were an Elf of distinction,
A real big quester,
Good-looking, really hot –
Say, wouldn’t you like to know what’s going on in my plot?

So let me get right to the point,
I don’t pop my sword for every Elf I see.
Hey, big quester!
Quest a little quest with me.


She stopped, looking at him suggestively, with an indication that he was welcome to join in her – well, call it ‘dance’, for lack of a more appropriate word.

His brows drew together as he pondered her words. She seemed to expect an answer.

“Sorry,” he replied, “but I’m already questing with my wife.”

“Married, eh?” she said. “Aren’t they always! But that doesn’t stop a guy from having fun with me. You know that we bad girls are always more interesting than the good ones at home, with their cheerful songs about the hills being alive with the sound of music, and a few of their favourite things, and the musical alphabet. You know what? If your conscience bothers you for liking me, just remind yourself that I’m only a fictional character, so ‘evil’ is irrelevant.”

“B-but,” Gravendil stammered, “she’s having my baby – what a lovely way of saying how much she loves me.”

“Got herself knocked up, did she?” the dancer grinned. “Then just what do you think she’ll look like soon? Do you really expect her to be able to compete with this?” With one long, blood-red* fingernail she traced a line from the hollow of her throat down to her shapely navel.**

Swallowing hard, Gravendil made one last valiant stand. “She’s the woman I love, and I love what it’s doing to her,” he gasped.

His words were ignored. Her hand moved toward the straps of her upper garment, and though the days of his Orcness were long gone and nearly forgotten, he recalled a chant used by his soldiers in times past:

Take it off, take it off!

He hardly knew whether he had actually spoken the words, but suddenly realizing that he was in danger of losing all that he had achieved in Mantoe’s Educational Halls and the Elven love of his life for whom he had gone through it, he cried out to himself, “You fool!”

The Orc female looked enquiringly, but he no longer cared. Resolutely he turned his back on her and strode onwards purposefully. She shrugged, then called out, “Hey! If you ever want to come back and take me up on my offer, here’s where you’ll find me.” She tossed a small oblong card at him and, startled, he caught it instinctively, thrusting it into his pocket without looking at it. Had he done so, he would have seen the runes inscribed upon it:

Tel-Éporniel Dôtkömm
‘always ready to help you while away lonely hours’



*the colour of human and Elvish blood, of course – for some reason more attractive as a makeup colour than that of Orcish blood

**which, if you think this through to its logical conclusion, provides the answer to speculations about the nature of Orcish reproduction.
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