--Alan -- The fanfic of doom returns... as straight-up text! ######################################################### The ElfQuiz Parody: The Revisionist History Take-a-Look 4: Test Send Chapter 1: No Free Lunches ######################################################### Very Brief Foreword: If you missed the first three "Take- a-Looks," well... you're probably better off. But for those who are curious, they may be found at the "'Elfquest': The Addiction" portion of my website, . Since this is .txt, I've made some punctuation changes. Thoughts will be marked by < and >. The human language will be marked by / and \. For those who have followed 'Quiz (as I tend to call it), you'll notice a few changes in style. For example, I'm trying to make it funny, rather than a curiosity. Tell me if you think I've succeeded. Finally, after TAL 4, I'm going to stop churning out this thing. Maybe I'll pick it up some time later, but 'Quiz has become a rather dull fanfic to write. You see, I originally wrote this over 18 months ago, and it's becoming tedious to re-create it. Thanks for understanding. -- All things considered, Cutter's day was not going well. He lay on a straw cot, flapping his arms up and down, side to side, and towards the rocky, dingy black ceiling above. Though the mat beneath his posterior was a suspicious pool of brown and green, he quietly sang, "I... am happy. I... am happy." Just then, a voice pounded on his ears. Emerging from somewhere in the fuzzy, slowly sinking room, it said, "Cutter... I am speaking to you. This is your father, cub. Good morning, is anyone there? Are you paying attention to me?" The deep, resonant, drum-like, rumbling voice reminded the Blood of Ten Chiefs of his esteemed sire Bearclaw and the celebrated comedian W.C. Fields, or perhaps both at once. With his tongue lolling out of his mouth, Cutter muttered a "No" in reply. "Good, I'm just ecstatic to hear that," the Bearclaw voice said, holding back a sharp cough. "Now hear this: you may be out of action - on the bench - temporarily incapacitated - under the weather... but there is no time for such luxuries. Your tribe needs you, Cutter. Things are not looking good. You've reached the point of no return. Scylla and Charybdis are calling. To go back would be as tedious as go o'er. I could go on like this for some time, but do you get the idea?" Opening his eyes and mouth wide, Cutter replied, "Yes." Casually ignoring the threats of danger, he kicked up his legs. With each word, Bearclaw's voice faded out as he said, "Then, prepare yourself for something less amusing..." As the last word was spoken, Cutter heard a shocking pop in his head. Quite suddenly, the blurry scenery faded out, and was replaced by not-too-super-deformed images of his tribe. They stood there, as if assembled for a large chorus, and laughed at him. As one, the Wolfriders exuded a huge howl of hiccuping laughter. This, needless to say, irked the famous chief. he thought, feeling his fingers tense up and clench into a fist, Sitting up with a bounce, he screamed, "N-o-o-o!" *** "As if things weren't bad enough," One-Eye muttered, sitting on a bench outside a stone-built hut. Yawning, he glanced at his left wrist, only to realize a moment later that he was not wearing a watch. Casting his eyes across the alien underground terrain, the Wolfrider saw his compatriots milling about, and quietly told himself, "It's like I've ended up with the wrong tribe. Strongbow is really acting out-of-character today - he has already thrown his bow on the ground and stomped all over it. Now he's doing the same for every one of his arrows. "Cutter, on the other hand... he definitely got the short end of the stick in the battle," One-Eye continued, holding his chin in his right hand, "My family, though-- they've become like some sort of shallow, silly, parody versions of themselves. First Clearbrook had her panic attack, and now she's pawing all over Treestump. Then there's that cub who's supposed to be my cub. She must think she's the angel of vengeance. I honestly feel sorry for those polar bears." The elf then cleared his throat and once again looked around the village. No one was in sight. A sudden smile crossed his face as he ran towards the entrance. *** Standing at the cavern's entrance, about a hundred elf- widths (Wolfrider scale) above the floor of the place, Hoodbearer gasped at what she saw. "/Interesting,\" the human-raised elf said, clutching the railing of the stairs with her right hand, "/I wonder if this is typical of elven architecture?\" Momentarily, she turned her eyes to see two long rows of glowing objects hanging from the cavern's ceiling, which was at least fifty elf-widths above where she stood. Squeezing into the door, Stormbringer walked up beside Hoodbearer. The ledge they were on could hold at most two elves at a time, but no other elves were still outside the cavern. "If you don't mind me mentioning it," the alleged daughter of Foxfur and Dobil said, "I know quite a bit, perhaps too much, about the elven arts, and the answer is no. The huts below us are elf-sized, but why any elf group would create a town is quite beyond me." Nodding steadily, she put her right hand on Hoodbearer's right shoulder. "/Again, interesting,\" she said placidly. Slowly turning towards the artist, Hoodbearer let go of the staircase, put her right hand on her chin, and asked, "/Stormie, I've been getting some odd feelings lately. It seems that our behavior is starting to resemble that of several well- known self-insertion characters. You don't think that we might suffer from that malady?\" Her eyes were stuck on Stormbringer's face, trying to read any expression from the mysterious one. Quite suddenly, Stormie burst into laughter. "That... would be rather disturbing!" she said, "But I doubt that it's true. But speaking of self-insertion deviancy, you wouldn't happen to have... um, how shall I put it... slightly different preferences in joining, would you?" Blushing slightly, she took her hand off Hoodbearer, and set it down by her right side. For a moment, Hoodbearer grimaced. In a low, rumbling, sarcasm-free voice, she told Stormie, "/Listen. Yeah, I'm a bit different than most of you. I was raised by two pairs of humans, both of them slightly liberal in their politics. But I'm not afraid to say that it has less bearing on my life than most of you might think. Oarken and Lefetha, Adar and Nonna... their values have not become mine.\" Stormbringer paused a second to consider these words. She thought, The young elf gave Hoodbearer a devious grin as she asked, "Well, could I possibly do something about that?" Though her hands were resting by her waist, she wiggled her fingers. As her mouth fell open, Hoodbearer gave Stormie a look of utter repulsion. "/That was rather sick. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to see this village for myself,\" she said loudly. The elf hoisted herself unto the ladder, and began to climb down. "Well, it works in most fanfics," Stormie muttered. *** "Hello out there," a short, stout, black-haired elf said, "I'm Marcis Go-Back. And just for your information, I'm not the same elf who appeared in 'Daughters of Strongbow.' Right by me is my cousin Sezen Go-Back. Say hello, Sezen." Waving to the white space in front of him, Sezen cheerfully said, "Hello!" This Go-Back was wearing an oversized, unbuttoned green vest over his typical blue tunic. Looking straight ahead, Marcis coughed sharply. He continued, "We've interrupted the narration of this 'fic so that the world at large gets a good idea of our significance. Sezen and I are the cousins of Dobil, and we happen to know how he wandered from this wasteland to the Wolfriders' old holt. Consider us to be his personal advisors and conscience. Alright, then... Sezen, we're resuming this thing in five seconds. Ready?" he called out to his cousin, who was getting a drink from a water fountain. "...Yeah. Sure, boss," the Go-Back replied, scampering back into his assigned position. Marcis sighed. "Ahem!" he said, just as the white backdrop disappeared. It was replaced by the dank, crowded, busy backdrop of the underground village. Clearbrook, Treestump, and Dewshine were sitting around a large black rock that protruded from the ground. Facing the ground in front of her, Clearbrook drummed her fingers together. In a droning, lifeless voice, she mumbled, "I am so lost, so confused, so uncertain about the future, so disturbed about the past..." without end. Stepping towards the quasi-family group, Marcis casually said, "Greetings to you, and welcome to the village of the Go-Backs, Replica's End. But let me dispense of the pleasantries. It does not seem that you are feeling well. May I be of assistance?" He bowed, but was unable to stop himself from grinning. "You most certainly may be," Treestump replied, looking up at his fellow elf. Putting his right arm around Clearbrook's back, he continued, "She's having some sort of delusions. Do you have anything that would at least calm her down?" To himself, he wondered, Now standing at his full height, Marcis clapped his hands together and said, "Yes, we do. Sezen, if you will, fetch us some traditional Go-Back soup." Turning back towards the trio, he mentioned, "My good, wise friend will return with something quite effective from my tribe's mess hall." Sezen started walking away, but then he sighted Dewshine, who was sitting listlessly by the rock. He cautiously approached her and whispered, "You might want to leave this area soon... The reaction this soup produces isn't quite what you might expect." Sneaking glances to his left and right, he rushed off towards the mess hall. *** She stood over the bed where her lifemate was lying down, and took off her heavy overcoat. "Darn, is it ever mildly warm in here! Skywise, don't you agree... uh, Skywise?" Leetah asked of the young Wolfrider, who was sitting motionless on a stone chair, staring in her general direction. Groaning quietly, the healer threw the coat at Skywise. "Catch this, pervert," she said, spitting every word. A moment later, she began the healing. But no sooner had the first wave of energy come forth, the door to the room was opened from outside. Though Leetah did not look at them, two figures clad entirely in thick, gray furs walked in. "Excuse me," Skywise told them, still struggling to hold the thick, cumbersome coat, "We've got a very delicate operation going on here, and I don't suggest that you try to interfere here." Without a word, one of the cloaked elves went right up to the operating table and threw his arms around the base of it. The other one waited for the door to shut, and then turned towards Skywise. He/she also did not speak. A frown creased Skywise's face. He looked at Ember, Suntop, and Quickblade, who were standing in a corner, and said, "Cubs, you'd best stick around for a while. I've got a funny feeling about these two." He threw the coat on the ground behind him. The one who was standing off to the side slapped his/her ears. "Aah," the elf said, "Aah, aah, aah." Though this individual's speech was slightly muffled by their heavy hood, it did not seem that they were saying actual words. *** "Very good soup. Thank you," Clearbrook said, setting down the now-empty bowl. Her head was spinning clockwise, and her eyes were rapidly rolling in the opposite direction. Meanwhile, Treestump's eyes were fixated on a hut just a few elf-widths away. He had just heard a voice from there say "Aah, aah" - and it triggered his few remaining intact memories. he thought. Looking up at Dewshine, who was now standing across right by that hut, he asked her, "Does that voice sound familiar to you?" The young, elusive elf replied, "I'm afraid not. You see, I remember nothing." As her hands shook, she laughed in spurts. She then rapidly walked away. Marcis caught a glimpse of her. He whispered to Sezen, who was standing by his side, grinning eagerly, "Now's the time for our departure, too." Forcefully taking his cousin's left hand, they walked in the other direction. With an idea forming in his mind, Treestump stood up, and told Clearbrook, "I'll be back in a bit. Until then, just stay there--" He was cut off because the aforementioned Wolfrider, feeling interested in finding the source of the moonpetal soup, rose from her seat. Clearbrook ran towards the hut Sezen had returned from, breezing right past Treestump. Treestump thought. His mind set on his goal, the elder Wolfrider walked towards the hut where the healing was taking place. *** Leetah wiped the sweat from her forehead. "I've finished the healing," she said quietly, "No thanks to all of you." The fur-clad stranger at her feet then finally got up. He told them in an clearly masculine voice, "I've shaped the table so that Cutter will have maximum comfort and better posture. Now don't thank me all at once." He dusted off his glove-covered hands. No one thanked the rock-shaper. Suntop, on the other hand, said, "A rock-shaping talent, huh? I thought I'd seen everything... Well, if you have a moment, there's this glove that my father found in the woods. Could you do anything with that?" he asked. "Doubt it, cub," he replied, "Well, you're all probably wondering who I am. Some of you might have met me before, while others have only heard the many rumors of my wonders. Regardless, I am now second-in-command of this tribe. This place, Replica's End, is of my own design, even though I stole from the original designs of my own tribe. Now you will be privileged to see me face-to-face." The elf removed his hood, revealing his black hair, dark skin, and yellow eyes. Leetah groaned. "Oh, it's only Rayek," she said all-too- clearly, "no need for excitement. So what's new, snake- boy? Knowing you, my sister's probably just a lowly peon under your mighty command. And who's your stand-by here? Your personal bodyguard?" She gave him a coy smile, and touched Cutter right where the blanket was. All too familiar with her ways, Rayek winced. "Hardly," he said, "Shenshen is doing quite well, thank you. And this is my tribe's psychologist. I'm sure she could tell you what's wrong with you. Well, in any case, I've got business to attend to. Farewell, Leetah, and may we-- excuse me..." Just as he headed for the door, it was opened as another elf came into the room. Frowning, Rayek exited the hut. "Greetings, Treestump," Skywise said calmly, "and welcome to our gigantic mess." The skygazer leaned back in his stone chair. As the door closed behind him, Treestump looked around the room. "Pardon me... I heard a somewhat familiar voice in here. Who's this with the full coat?" he asked, gazing at the still-standing figure. Shrugging her shoulders, Leetah replied, "She's supposed to be the psychologist of this tribe. Hasn't said a word yet. Speaking of coats, though - Skywise, pick it up!" Groaning, Skywise pulled the weighty coat off the floor. In the meantime, Treestump returned his gaze to the elven psychologist, and said, "I remember now. But you'd better tell me what you're doing all the way up here." His hands began to tremble. The elf removed her hood, showing the others in the room that she was blond-haired, blue-eyed, and had a long face. "Darling," she said in an alto voice, "I wouldn't worry about that now." She wrapped her arms around him. "Rillfisher..." Treestump whispered, caught in her embrace. Quickblade blinked his eyes twice. His face in something between a grimace and a sneer, he said, "I'm leaving." Immediately, the cub dashed out of the room. At the same time, Skywise raised his eyebrows. To himself, he remarked, "This is a curious turn of events... I wonder how they're going to explain this?" A moment later, Rillfisher broke free of her lifemate. She looked at the others, one eye half-cocked, and told them, "A good question. Mine is a complicated story, involving many subtly interrelated factors. In a moment, I will begin. But before I do, one warning: if you have questions, use sending to ask me. Even if you do, though, I may not be listening." The elf paused, and continued, "Like pretty much all the odd, inexplicable stuff that has been going on, my wandering began with Rain the healer..." *** Skot and Krim stood on either side of the door of the mess hall. Both had a long metal pole in hand, as well as a small metal shield. After a prolonged yawn, Skot asked, "Krim, have you ever known of a door that can open in both directions?" "No. Certainly not. That would be a rather useless door, if I may say so myself," she replied, thrusting her stick against the stone pavement. From out of the distance, a figure came charging towards them. Clearbrook lead a trail of smoke as she dashed in their direction. Puzzled, Skot and Krim looked at each other. Yelling, Clearbrook yanked open the door and burst in. The door, being one that opened outwards, slammed right into Krim's face. The Go-Back promptly fell into the wall, and then slowly went to the ground. From inside, Skot heard Yif the cook scream. He told himself, "At least the door only opens in one direction... I am safe." A few moments later, Clearbrook zoomed right out of the hut, still raving. She pushed the door open with enough force that it came off its hinges. As the Wolfrider fled the premises, the door collided with Skot's face. As he sank to the floor, he muttered, "We were wrong..." -- Estimated Time Until the Next Episode: 1 month. There's other projects I want to work on, including my self-MSTing of "Daughters of Strongbow." That will resume in a week or two. Thanks for reading. E-mail me at . Legal Spiel: This fanfic was finished, by Alan (John Alan Riggs), on January 24, 1999. "Elfquest," its characters, and everything associated with it are copyright 1978-99 Warp Graphics. The ElfQuiz Parody is a satire thereof, and should not be mistaken for licensed material. "As they raised their sails for the great unknown They'd begun their long journey home They were seekers, often blind, struggling onward against the tide Sons and daughters as we are seeking shelter near or far" -Rick Elias / Regie Hamm, "Pilgrims" "You know. . .in a way, this is *so* 'Return of the Jedi'. . ." -Raye, "Reckonings," a fanfic by Sailor Mac