These things are fun.

Canadian PC - the adventure continues

Lame PC #2

Motivators

I have to post these here first so I can post them on the TWOP PC.. provided my account is verified in time.

Chapter XVI

Because it's been too damn long since I've written anything.

Erdyn paced the lobby of the Sorcerer's guild Pyramid. Not fair, he thought. He had rushed through his breakfast to get here exactly on time, and he'd been waiting for nearly half a fig.* This was absurd.
He looked around the large, rectangular room. The sorcerers, it was obvious, liked to show off. The two large couches on either side of the entrance changed color every few twigs, oscillating from red to orange to yellow and all the way down the spectrum, inexplicably stopping off at plaid in between blue and turquoise. The door on the opposite side had a few simple wooden chairs by it, perfectly normal except that they occasionally got up and walked around the room on their four legs. On the floor surrounding the door, carved into the wooden floor, were two concentric rings, with an ornate pattern strung between them. Every foot or so was a tiny circular indentation, inlayed with silver. On the right wall was a large portrait of a dark-skinned, bald human. He was quite muscular, in a turquoise vest with silver trim and sparkly silver pants and holding a wooden staff with a shining gem in it. The staff Erdyn recognized - Xindor had been carrying it when he first arrived. The inscription on the portrait simply read "Damien Windhammer, first Lord of the Stargem." This confused Erdyn - he wasn't one humdred percent sure what the stargem was, but he didn't even know it needed one lord, much less several. The only other ornamentation in the room was definately the most bizarre - and enormous, pulsating pair of human-looking ears on the left wall.
"I'm sure they'll see you as soon as they can Erdyn," reassured his brother. "They must be very busy,"
Just then, an unfamiliar elf stepped through the door. He was short, for an elf, bald and quite wiry, and he was holding a clipboard.
"Erdyn son of Indryn?" he said, looking down at the clip board. Erdyn nodded. "The council will see you now,"
"Finally," said Erdyn.
"Erdyn," said Halyn sharply.
The younger gnome glared at him.
"This way," said the elf.
Erdyn and Halyn followed him out the doorand to the left. He led them into a long hallway filled with portraits of various sorcerers in decisive, take-charge, action poses. All carried the same shining wooden staff. After two right turns, they reached a small, black door. Well, not exactly a door. More sort of a doorway. It was pure black as if no light could possibly escape. As if looking into it too long could be spomehow dangerous.
The elf spoke some words in a language Erdyn couldn't understand, and suddenly the doorway changed. Now instead of pure darkness it was sheathed in pure light. Erdyn shielded his eyes and turned away.
"Step through please," said their guide.
What? said Erdyn.
"It's safe," said the elf. "This is the entrance to the floor. Your brother and I are going to the gallery. They're expecting you. Step through,"
Erdyn took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and stepped into the light. RThe light was so bright he clould feel it with his eyes closed. He kept walking forward. He was about to risk opening his eyes when he heard a shrill, female voice.
"Close the damn gateway!" it said.
There was a flash, and the light was gone. Erdyn opened his eyes.
He was standing on a large, circular platform. The room was dark - the main source of light was a ring of blue lights on the cieling and a bright white rectangle somewhere far above him, which vanished shortly. Actually, the platform he was on appeared, inexplicably, quite well lit. It was empty except for a lecturn and a bench next to it, and another black doorway, which appeared to lead nowhere. Beyond the platform however, was total darkness.
"Clear the lecturn," said Xindor's voice. The lecturn and bench vanished.
"Welcome, Erdyn, son of Indryn, of the Hills of Gloob," said Xindor. "Why have you come before the Elder Council of the Sorerer's Guild?"
You could hear the capitalization.
Erdyn thought this was rather silly. Xindor obviously knew why he was here. But he decided to play along anyway.
"I want to become a sorcerer," he said clearly.
"The guild is not for everyone," said another voice, this one lower and gravelly, "What makes you think you posess the innate magical skill required to manipulate the universe?"
Damn he's dramatic, thought Erdyn. He wondered whether it would be better to seem humble or confident. He thought what he could do was pretty good, but having seen the wonders he had since coming to Errilliance, he was no longer quite so sure.
"Well?" asked the rumbling voice.
"I have powers," said Erdyn. "In the past couple of months I've realized I could do things - not normal things,"
"Have you any bloodline?" asked the grumbly voice.
"Yes," said Erdyn. This part he had rehearsed, "My Great, Great, Grandfather, Sildyn son of Moolyn, was a member of the guild,"
"That is all?" said the low voice.
"That I know of," answered Erdyn.
"These powers," said a third voice. It was higher, female sounding, and somewhat shrill, "Can you control them, or do they happen spontaneously?"
"They basically only happen when I want them to," said Erdyn. This was mostly true.
"Would you care to demonstrate them, then?" she asked.
Erdyn nodded. He took a deep breath in and beban to concentrate very hard. He was glad it was dark. That would make this more impressive.
"Take your time," said Xindor, "We're in no hurry,"
Erdyn clasped his hand together and focused. Then he opened his hands just slightly and peeked in. A bead of light was nestled in his palm. He closed his hands again and concentrated even harder. Finally, he opened his hands. Four tiny circles of light, like bright fireflies, floated out. There was a mix of sounds from the group, mostly murmurs of what Erdyn hoped was approval.
Spurred on somewhat by this, Erdyn moved on to his next trick. He raised his hands into the air and thrust them forward, willing the lights to follow. The little beads zoomed off in the direction he was pointing, straight out into the gallery, until the illuminated Xindor's face, which Erdyn saw had broken into a small smile.
Erdyn pulled his hands in, beckoning the lights to return to him, then winked them out.
The crowd was murmering excitedly now, which Erdyn thought of as a good sign. There seemed to be quite a few more of them then he'd originally thought, though.
"Is that all?" asked the gruff voice.
Erdyn considered for a moment. Aw, what the underrealm? he thought, Might as well give it a shot. "There is one more little thing," he said uncertainly.
"Well, by all means, show us," said Xindor.
Erdyn nodded. He concentrated again, this time on his ears. He had decided some time ago his large, gnomish ears made the best demonstration of this ability. He concentrated on shrinking them.
After a minute or so, he reached up and touched them. They were smaller, but he wasn't sure the change was enough to be noticable.
There was hushed talking going on in a language Erdyn couldn't understand. Then the female voice spoke up.
"Is it just your ears, or can you resize anything?" she asked.
They'd noticed! Erdyn breathed a sigh of relief.
"I've only managed my ears, nose, and eyes. I tried to grow my whole head and I got a massive headache,"
Xindor laughed - a brief, percussive laugh that stopped almost immediately.
"SO it's a real change then - " he said, "Not illusory?"
"As far as I know," answered Erdyn.
"Then I would stop experimenting with it," said XIndor, "Transmutation magic can be very dangerous in the hands of an amatuer. Is that everything?"
"Yes sir," said Erdyn.
"You may go then," said Xindor."We'll let you know our decision by tomorrow. Thank you for your time,"
The black doorway behind Erdyn flashed white again. Erdyn closed his eyes and stepped through. He strode through the portrait hall with a little bounce in his step. He'd impressed them, he was sure of it. And he was on his way to becoming a sorcerer!

*A fig is a period of 9 lengths. A day is divided into 18 figs.

Picture!

Unfortunately, you can't see the tail in this one, but it's better than nothing.

Mutants!

X-men has never had one unified canon. There was one canon for the comic books, one for the, TV show, and an entirely different one for the movies. The characters and events are basically the smae, but what order they happen in and who's involved in them, and even who's a good guy and whose a bad guy, changes with each incarnation.
This will be both a blessing and a curse as far as Mutants! the Musical is concerned. On the one hand, it can have it's own canon, designed to incorporate the maximum number of mutant song and dance numbers. On the other hand, a lot more writing will be involved.

Nightcrawler log, day nine

Finished costume. All that remains for tomorrow is hair and make-up. There will be pictures.

Nightcrawler log, day seven

Made shoulder pads and sewed them into vest. Started sewing trim onto pants. Broke sewing machine. Cut trim for arms and sewed it together by hand.

day eight:

Finished sewing trim on to legs by hand as various people tried to fix the sewing machine. Must find a way to attach the tail. Time is of the essence.

Nightcrawler log, dax six

Finished other sock. Learned more about sewing, including that you get a much nicer product when you do it inside out.

Made orange trim for both socks.

Decided to affix the trim to the bottoms of the pants instead of the top of the socks.

Nightcrawler log, day four

Cut fabric for vest thingie. Pinned shoulder pads.

Made one two-towed sock. Man, that took forever. On the plus side, I learned a lot about sewing.

Nightcrawler log, day two

Accomplishments yesterday:

Purchased tight black clothing from Goodwill. Began making pattern for vest-type thing.

Meanwhile, my amazing girlfriend constructed for me pretty much the most awesome tail possible. The tail problem is officially solved. (actually, I still need to figure out how to affix it, so we'll say almost solved.)

Nightcrawler log supplemental

This is something like what I'm going for.

Nightcrawler log, day one

Accomplishments today:

Started log

Made list of materials

Scoured the basement and located my vulcan ears

Attempted, unsuccessfully, to clean my vulcan ears

Purchased orange fabric, socks, and gloves

Cut holes in one pair of socks, cut fingers off of gloves, and combined them into my Nightcrawler gloves, which now need only orange trim to be complete.

Tried to convince Jonah not to abandon his Cyclops costume.

Nightcrawler log, Preliminary entry

With just two weeks until the premier of X-3: The Last Stand, it is entirely too late for me to be just starting on one of my most ambitious costume projects yet. But I am. And I will be journaling my experiences here, for you, the many dedicated readers of this blog. Oh, who am I kidding. For you, Erin.
Anyway, yesterday I scoured Google for a good image of Nightcrawler's costume from the TV series (so as to match Tim's excellent Gambit outfit.) I found several, and came up with a comprehensive plan for completing my costume before the premiere.

Step one: secure materials. I will need:

A long sleeved grey shirt, preferably skin tight.

Grey Pants in as similar a color as possible, with belt loops.

Orange fabric.

Two pairs of white knee socks, preferably with Orange trim.

One pair of those cheap strecthy gloves, also white.

Index cards

A wire coat hanger

Blue fabric.

Blue duct tape.

Blue face paint.

Vulcan or elf ears.

Vampire teeth.

Hair Gel.

Black spray dye.

This afternoon I hope to secure as many of these materials as possible. I intend to complete the hands and feet this week, so I can dedicate the last week to dealing with the problem of the tail.

Chapter XV

Dukalb was having trouble thinking of anything not stupid to say. So he decided simply to say what was on his mind.
"You're a goblin," he said after a moment.
"Hobgoblin, actually," Grosk corrected him irratibly, "And you're a Dwelf. What of it?"
"Goblins can't do magic," said Dukalb, confused.
"I beg to differ," said Grosk. "And Thurigen obviously agrees with me, as he asked me to teach you how to do magic, which I will find increasingly difficult if you don't stop insulting me,"
Simile sniggered. Grosk attempted to bat her away with his walking stick, but she flew out of the way.
"Have fun guys," she called, zooming off.
"Sorry," said Dukalb after a while. "It's just I didn't think.."
"Didn't think hobgoblins would be allowed in Erilliance?" asked Grosk, still clearly annoyed. "Well, I've been here a lot longer than you have. And I would think someone with your particular heritage would be.. a little more sympathetic towards my plight,"
"What do you mean?" asked Dukalb.
"We have a lot in common," answered Grosk. "We're each the only member of our race in the whole city. And we're both very far from home. And, I suspect, niether of us really thought of it as home to begin with,"
"There are plenty of Elves and Dwarves here-" Dukalb began.
"But no other Dwelves," Grosk said with mock sadness, "And no other hobgoblins. How sad for us,"
"Is that why Thurigen assigned you to me?" asked Dukalb.
"It's possible," rasped Grosk, "But I think it's more a matter of us having compatible essences,"
"Essences?" asked Dukalb quizzically.
Grosk stared incredulously at him. "You really have had no training to speak of, have you? No wonder you've developed only rudimentary powers in three years. Well, if you have no grasp of theory, we'll just have to start at the beginning. Do you honestly not know anything about essences?"
"Well of course I do!" answered Dukalb, indignant. "I'm not an idiot!"
"Well, what do you know about them?" asked the hobgoblin, walking over to a stump and sitting down.
"Umm..." said Dukalb, trying to figure out where to start. "The whole world is comprised of the four elements earth, wind, water, and fire. Every creature, plant, rock or cloud has the essences of these elements inside it in some combination. Druids gain our power by communing with these essences and manipulating them, changing the balance of essences in something to produce the desired effect,"
"So you're not completely stupid," replied Grosk with some relief. "What confused you?"
"I don't understand what you mean when you say we have compatible essences," answered Dukalb.
"Hmm...," went the Hobgoblin. For several seconds he said nothing, as if trying to collect his thoughts. Then he began.
"Have you ever wondered why Dwarves are more comfortable underground? Or why wood elves like to live in the trees?" he asked.
"I figured that's just what they were built for," said Dukalb.
"Kind of," said Grosk. "Actually, it's because the balance of essences is not constant from race to race. Dwarves have rather a lot of earth in them and little of air. Cathedral Elves have almost no earth and a double share of air essence. Only humans tend to have some measure of balance in their essences,"
"Okay..." said Dukalb, taking all this in.
Grosk continued. "A druid derives his powers from his own elemental essences - your ability to manipulate each element is dependant upon the strength of each element within your own essence,"
"Ah...," said Dukalb, with a look of revelation. "So that's why Thurigen likes to appear as a whirlwind,"
"Yes," said Grosk, "He is, or at least was, an elf of the Citadel, just like Xindor. Now. Dwarves, as I've said, have a double share of earth essence and almost no air essence. While wood elves have balanced essences except for an almost total lack of fire essence. So you, as a Dwelf, ought to have a the largest part of your essence connected with earth, and the smallest with fire. By sheer coincidence, this is exactly how a Hobgoblins essence breaks down,"
"But Goblins love fire -" objected Dukalb.
"I'm NOT a Goblin!" bellowed Grosk, suddenly becoming defensive. After another pause of a few seconds he recovered himself enough to continue. "Now naturally each of us having similar essences gives us similar abilities - obviously a natural affinity for stone, but also one for trees - since trees are composed of the earth they grow in, the water they drink, and the air they breath, we have a lot in common with them. They identify with us. Weather control is mostly about air and water, so both of us have limited succes with that, but not too much because we're basically devoid of fire essence - although you have a little more of that from your Dwarven side, which explains how you were able to call a lightning bolt,"
Dukalb was silent, taking all this in. Grosk stopped for a moment, unsure of what to say next. Finally he spoke up.
"That's your first lesson," he said, "Runes, incantations, hand motions - none of that matters to us. Leave it for the wizards and witches to worry about. A good druid needs no sound, no motion, and above all no components to work his magic. We manipulate primal elemental forces simply by being. That is the power you've tapped into, and that is what you can learn from me. If you stop insulting me, that is,"

Chapter XIV

It was with considerably less ceremony that the Wild Abandon left the Port of Xarnip that morning. For Clayton, however, it was a much happier occasion. Finally, for the first time in eleven years, he would get to talk to his son. And there really wasn't any other choice - he was the only person on the boat who spoke Human. So he was a bit surprised when his son addressed him in Xarnipi.
But of course. He should have expect Human-proper would only be a second language to his son, raised in this backwater as he had been. I should have taken him with me, he thought, not for the first time in the eleven years since he'd fled his wife's wrath on the back of a stolen attack whale.
"Good Morning, son," he replied in his son's native language. His brief conversation with his wife the previous night had been the first time he'd used his Xarnipi in nearly eight years, but he had a good memory and it was coming back pretty easily.
"Mornin' Dad," said Brandon.
There was a pause. What do you say after eleven years? thought Clay.
"Oh," he said finally, "I brought you something!"
This had been his Ice-breaking plan for years. In the old days, every time Clayton had come home he'd brought a gift from wherever he'd been. He headed towards the hold, explaining as he went.
"I didn't know what kind of powers you'd manifest," he said, as he opened the door to the hold, "Sorcerer powers can be finicky. So I wasn't sure what to get you. You know, wouldn't want an invisibility cape if you could do it on your own,"
"I turn people into animals," said Brandon, with a strange mix of confusion pride.
"Oh, Transmogrifier, eh?" replied Clayton, clapping him on the shoulder. He stopped and sat down on a box, "Takin' after your old Grandma! She used to turn me into all kinds of useful things. Why I remember once, during my mercenary days, I needed to infiltrate a Goblin camp, and - Say.... You could go into business with me! Been a long time since I had a good transmogrifier at my side! But I'm getting ahead of myself. Come."
He led his somewhat perplexed son through the dank hold until he came to a large box.
"Here it is," he said. He took the top off of the box, bent down and pulled out a small,smooth silver egg. He handed it carefully to his son, who looked it over with confusion.
"What is it?" he finally asked.
"It's a nullifier," said his father. "That little egg can render the most powerful wizard into nothing more than an old man with a stick. You see, it contains a tiny chunk of oblivium,"
Brandon laughed. "Nice one, dad," he said. "Seriously, what does it do?"
"I'm serious," Insisted Clayton, "It has chunk of oblivium in it strong enough to nullify all the magic in a ten-foot radius. Right now it's effects are being suppressed by the silver in the shell. But it's thin. You can break it by throwing it down really hard or smashing it, and then you'll have an approximately twenty-foot radius circle inside which no one can use any magic. Like plopping down a chunk of the badlands right in the middle of Erilliance,"
"Wow," said Brandon, surveying the small metal egg,"Thanks," he continued, mesmerized,"If this is really oblivium, it must be worth..."
"Hey," said his father, "I have eleven years of birthdays to make up for! Speaking of which, we've got a lot to catch up on. You want something to eat?"
"Sure," answered Brandon.
"C'mon," said Clay, "I'll show you the mess. I hope you like Banannas!"

*Sorry it sucks. I just gotta keep writing.

Dune!

I was cleaning my room today and I found this. It was, as far as I can tell, my attempt to convince someone the Dune would work as an opera. I sort of remember the tune.

Chorus: Arrakis. Dune. Desert Planet. Arrakis. Dune. Desert Planet. (Repeat under soloists)

Duke Leto: Now we prepare for the move to Arrakis,
The planet that's come to be known as Dune.
And for now that creates quite a ruckus,
It will make things better soon.

Gurney: Leaving our home on Caladon,
The waters that we love so much,
For a planet you can't even make a salad on,
And the vegetation's far from Lush!

Thufir: Though the climate may be inhospitable, The spice will be quite profitable.

Gurney: While the spice may bring us fame and fortune,
The planet we're getting is basically crap!

Thufir: Also we need to proceed with caution, or risk falling into a Harkonnen trap!

Yueh: Harkonnen trap?

Thufir: Harkonnen traaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaap!

Leto: And not only Harkonnens! The Emperor and his Saudaukar too!
Ruthless death troops from a hell like world, too take back Arrakis -

Paul: What can we do?

Gurney: All of our armies, working together,
couldn't stop a single Saudaukar!

Yueh: They're as unstoppable as the weather,
All we can do is Surrender!

All: Surrender?

Yueh: Surrender!

Leto: Wrong! We have a force at our disposal,
as powerful as them, men!
Duncan Idaho is gone to make a proposal
to the leaders of the Fremen!

Paul: You plan to make the Fremen,
The wild, native inhabitants of Dune,
Ruthless death troops, it's a hell-like world -
Defending Arrakis - It just might work!

Thufir: His plan may be permittable, the Fremen are quite formittable.

Yueh: They fight off sandworms, it's the harshest life!

Gurney: Even their women, who one would take as a wife!

Paul: Anyone who can endure such strife -

Leto: If anyone can do it,

All: They caaaaaaaaaaan!

(curtain)

And length wouldn't be an issue - that sums up a good fifty or sixty pages right there.

Chapter XIII

Erilliance is a city of wonders - massive towers that let off a fiery glow, sorcerers throwing spells everywhere - even the pigeons frequently burst into flames. Yet for years it was impossible to get a good sandwich on the go. If the current Archmage was to be remembered for anything, it would be this - he had offered a large stipend and the lifelong protection of the Wizards of Erilliance to any good restauranteer willing to set up inside the city limits. Slowly, the fear of being turned into a hamburger by a disgruntled customer gave way to greed, and local businesses began to set up shop. One of these young entrepreneurs had been a friendly, optimistic Dwarf named Durner Ruckfendursteen.
Sixteen years later, Durner (Durney to his friends) had a booming business - the only Dwarf restaurant in the city. Dishes like his famous Stone roast stew and Potato smashes offered a little taste of home for the Dwarves of the city, and a hearty, slightly exotic flair for the others. It was well-known that Durney's Dwarven Diner was one of Xindor the Incredible's favorite restaurants, and it didn't hurt his business the plenty of young sorcerers ate there in an attempt to get in on his good side.
Therefore it was surprising how empty it was that morning as the two Gnomes came in.
"Good day to ye!" called Durney, as he walked briskly (for a portly Dwarf) to the door. "Welcome ta Durney's Dwarven Diner, delectables Dished out Daily! Ye ever been here before?"
"No," answered Halyn with a friendly smile, "But you come highly recommended to me,"
"Well, yer in fer a right treat then!" said Durney, "Can I int'rest ye in our breakfast special - Three of our famous thundercakes with sausages and a drink fer eight spiggins a piece! And fer firs' time customers, I throw in a coupla' flundusters fer' dessert!"
"That sound good?" Halyn asked his brother.
"The only word I understood was 'sausages'," Erdyn answered, bewildered.
"Right," said his brother, suddenly coming to a realization, "You've never had Dwarf food! Two of the special, my good man - do you serve Gnome-size portions?"
The Dwarf thought about this for a moment. "Not much call fer that around here, but how's about we make everything half size and charge ya' half price fer' it?"
"Sounds fine to me," said Halyn.
"And ta drink? How about some Dwarven ale? It's never too early fer ale!"
'Water's fine," said Halyn.
"Ye sure?" asked the Dwarf, "No extra charge,"
'Yes," insisted the Gnome, "Water is fine,"
"Alright, then," said Durney, "Two Gnome-sized breakfast specials, commin' right up!"
As he rushed off to prepare the food, the Gnomes sat down.
"Dwarves don't understand that no one else can handle a mug of their ale," said Halyn, as the soon as Durney was out of ear shot. "So, we have about a length and a half until your appointment - that should be plenty of time. You feeling up to it?"
Erdyn held his hand up to his face and stared intently at it. After a moment, three of his fingertips began to glow.
"Yeah," he said, "Once I get some food in me, I should be fine,"
"Good," said Halyn, "Just don't be shy, ok? Don't be afraid to show them everything you got."
"I just hope it's enough," answered Erdyn optimistically.
"It will be," said his older brother, patting his hand, "It will be. So, Xindor wanted me to extend his humblest apologies for his niece's behavior. He also wanted me to let you know that random acts of magic are actually really rare in this city, and you got really unlucky,"
"His niece?" asked Erdyn, a little confused.
"Yeah, the girl who attacked you last night. She was aiming for Bogue... Probably some little feud between them. It happens rather a lot here - sorcerers are known for holding grudges a long time, and I think it just kind of rubs off on everyone else. Why, last time I was here - are you listening to me?"
He waved his hand in front of his brother, who was gazing dreamily out the window.
"Wuh?" he said, "Oh, sorry. Spaced out for a moment. Go on,"
"What is it?"asked Halyn, "Something bothering you?"
"Just... er... Nervous about today," lied Erdyn hastily, "That's all. Don't worry about it,"
"Erdyn," said his brother sternly, "You're a good liar, but you never were able to fool me. What were you thinking about?"
The younger Gnome looked at his brother for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not he should say what was on his mind.
"Amora," he finally sighed.
"Oh, that's just an after effect of her spell,"said Halyn, blowing him off. "Trust me, sometime tomorrow it'll wear off and you'll be pretty pissed off at her,"
"I don't think that's it," argued Erdyn. "She's beautiful, and she's Xindor's niece, and-"
"And that's all you know about her, that and the fact that she attacked you. You're not in love with her. Trust me. Now, let's talk a little about what Xindor and the rest of the sorcerers on the admission council will be looking for..."
He was interrupted by Durney's return, with breakfast.
"There ye go," said the Dwarf cheerfully, "Two Gnome-sized breakfast specials. I'll bring ye yer flundusters in a little while,"
"I'm... Not sure I'll still be hungry," said Erdyn uncertainly as he surveyed the breakfast.
"That's alright, I'll wrap 'em up fer ya! Ye can't decide how ye feel about Dwarven cuisine without tryin' a flunduster!"
"Of course," said Halyn, "Wrap them up. And could we get a third?"
"Sure thing!" answered the Dwarf, "I'll get them fer ye momentarily!"
He shuffled off to finish the desserts.
Erdyn stared horrified at the thundercakes, large blackened cylinders filled with so many little holes they resemble Swiss cheese. He looked up questioningly at his brother.
"Dig in,"said Halyn, his mouth already full of thundercake, "We only have about a length and five before your appointment,"
Erdyn picked up a thundercake and cautiously bit into it. As he crunched on it, a smile broke across his face.
"This's actually pretty good," he said. "A little crunchy, but it tastes alright,"
"Of course it does," said Halyn, "It's even better with syrup. Now eat up, we haven't got that much time,"
They ate on in relative silence, the only sounds those of contented crunching. As Erdyn munched away at his thundercake, he wondered what other surprises Erilliance had in store for him, and whether they would all be this pleasant.

Chapter XII

On the edge of the city, Simile buzzed around a small cabin. She was annoyed to find the small crack she'd used in the past to gain entrance had since been sealed. Aw well, she thought, nothing else for it! She hovered in front of the window gathering up her magical strength, then let out a blast about her size, incinerating a small hole in the wall. She flew through it.
The cabin was very sparsely furnished. There was a pile of tools piled half-heartedly in one corner. There was a small table, a wardrobe, and a bed, and that was all. She flew towards the bed, and landed on Dukalb's pillow.
"Good Morning!" she intoned, leaning into his ear.
Dukalb literally jumped to his feet. Within seconds, he was standing on top of the bed."What the underealm?!" he said.
Simile floated up to right in front of his face.
"Hey, plenty of guys'd kill to wake up with me in their bed!"
Dukalb glared at her.
"It's Four lengths and two and a half twigs already! What did you do last night?"
"Nothing," answered the Dwelf, jumping off his bed. "I usually get up this late. I try not to let my internal clock be bound by the rules of society,"
"How very Druidic of you," answered the pixie. "However, if you wish to remain in Erilliance, I would suggest you get dressed and get to that clearing,"
"What do you mean, get dressed?" asked Dukalb. "Like I own more than one pair of clothing,"
She surveyed his wrinkled clothes.
"Wow," she said. "You really are a slob. I didn't know you slept in them too,"
Dukalb shrugged. "I don't interact with people very often these days. I figure, what's the point in looking nice. No one see's me anyway. This way I can just... wake up and leave," As if to demonstrate, he walked towards the door.
"So what's that wardrobe for?" asked Simile as she floated next to his ear.
"Things," said Dukalb, "None of your concern - did you burn a whole in my door?"
"That?" said Simile, indicating the whole. "That was there when I got here,"
"Right," said Dukalb sarcastically, as he began striding through the forest, "So it just... Turned up. Should I even bother getting it fixed?"
"Uhhhh....No," said Simile.
"Because next time you needed to get into my house another one would just turn up," said the Druid irritably.
"Probably," answered Simile coyly, "You know how these things are,"
"One of these days you're going to have a nasty encounter with a fly swatter," said Dukalb dryly.
"You gotta catch me first," intoned the pixie playfully as she zoomed out over the trees. Dukalb wandered towards the clearing, thinking about what was about to happen. A master, he reasoned, could never be a good thing. Up until now he'd been setting his own timetables, living a life of relative solitude, and interacting with others only when absolutely necessary. And he was learning a lot. His teachers were the trees, the rocks, the animals. How a druid should learn, he thought. Now he would be subject to the whims of an older druid, one who thought he could teach him to commune with nature through lessons and instruction.
But what else could he do? He couldn't leave Erilliance. Where else could a Dwelf live in peace? Everywhere he'd be an outsider. But here, in a city ruled by a council consisting of a human, a Dwarf, and an Elf, everyone felt like an outsider. And that meant no one did.
He stopped in the same clearing where Thurigen had delivered his ultimatum the previous day. And there, standing in front of him, was a goblin.
It was very tall for a goblin - thin and wiry, with wrinkly green skin and ridiculous bat-like ears. The upturned snout on the front of it's face was rather humorous looking as well.
Dukalb glanced around for a weapon. Eyeing a heavy stick on the ground, he picked it up and held like a club, ready to swing if he was attacked. Goblins were dangerous, hostile creatures, and he wasn't about to take any chances.
"Underrealm of a way to greet your knew teacher," said the goblin, in a raspy voice. "My name is Grosk. You would be Dukalb, I presume?"