--Alan -- Several months late... I know... Sorry. ######################################### The ElfQuiz Parody: The Revisionist History Take-a-Look 4: Test Send Chapter 4: Tear the Building Down ######################################### The elves' heads were already spinning even before they disembarked at Santaclaus' hut. As it turned out, Rayek's celebrated flying machine, the DEV, could have used a little work. Nightfall stepped off the platform, placed her two feet in the damp, half-frozen snow, and placed her breakfast on it. "Oh, I feel woozy," she said, as fishcakes enveloped her eyes. She silently thanked the High Ones that Redlance had stayed behind. The other elves strolled around her, each with a trembling gait. All eyes fixed on the neon-lined door of the building. The lights about the place glowed--and though the elves quickly lost their senses in the red aura, they felt no warmth emanating from the light source. With their arms hanging low, they advanced toward Santaclaus' residence. The first one to the door was Cutter--for the chief would have it no other way. "Stand back, my hunt-family," he told the others, lifting his voice above the dry, thick smog, "We must advance inside, release the captives, and tear the building down!" Much to his delight, his fellow elves patted him on the back with a round of applause. They looked at his face, as if to ask a question. But Cutter's hands remained by his sides, and did not touch the doorknob. "Excuse me," Ekuar said in the slightest whisper, "Mane-wearer, could you open the door?" Again, the Wolfriders' chief stood there, not moving, not speaking. A second later, just as several voices began to speak, he asked, "'Mane-wearer'? What does that mean?" Quite suddenly, the chief found his lifemate's hands around his neck. This, though, was no encouraging hug. She wore the Expression of Imminent Death, and her body was poised to spring--not unlike a cobra. "It doesn't mean anything!" the healer told him, "Just open the door." At a loss for other options, Cutter turned the knob. The slab of wood did not push in, nor did it pull out. Three times he tried, and yet it would not budge. As his face remained placid and blank, he told the crowd, "It's locked." Then he shrugged. The others, including Nightfall, tripped and fell straight into the snow. *** "Slowly... slowly... slowly." The troll crawled up the unstained white hill. His burden lay on his back, strapped against his shoulders. It tied him to the earth, even as his soul reached for heaven. His words, foolish as they were to the multitudes, found an echo in the metaphysics of time and space. However, the troll had no divinely appointed mission to accomplish. His cargo, the body of Moonshade, was destined for the hut of Santaclaus. The weather may have been over- cast, but it was really a mild day. Finally, the troll's words were quite meaningless. Their only purpose was to extend the narrative, so that the scene would seem longer and less padded. Did he succeed? You be the judge. Onward, dashing through the snow, Guttlebutt wandered. The troll's name was unfortunate at best, yet fitting. His posterior was disproportionate to the rest of his anatomy, and though that may not create an effective physical picture, it is fitting to say that the troll was a heap of lard. His footprints left craters in the watery mush, even as the diamond-piercing yellow sunlight struck his green skin. The troll's path lead him from the relative sanity of Replica's End to the scantily-mapped wilderness, the stretch of tundra few had crossed, fewer without giant tranforming animals. Finally, Guttlebutt ended his chase. He stood atop one of a million nameless hills, set his eyes upon the skies, and his flabby stomach on the valley below. With not a cloud nor a bird in the endless blue, his view of the sun was unobstructed. To the depths of all creation he hollered, "WHERE AM I NOW?" *** Redlance placed the bone-crafted tool close to his face, listened to the echo ruminating from it, and frowned. As the Go-Back children nipped at his heels, he spoke into the object, "What do you mean 'we don't offer sausage pizza'?" All about the elf, Replica's End buzzed with screams and laughter. The screams were courtesy of One-Eye and Rain, who were busy doing some task in a back room. The laughter, though, came from the young cubs around him. They had assured Redlance that it was possible to 1) get a decent pizza even in the wilderness, 2) order it for only a few fire- eyes, and 3) have it delivered to them in a matter of minutes. Redlance believed all this. He doubted only because of the unusual lack of competence that the individual at Polar Pizza was displaying. "As I just said," Redlance continued a moment later, "I'd like to order a *sausage* pizza. Size: medium. No extra toppings, loony bread, or anything like that. Do you understand?" He exhaled harshly. The one at the other end replied with a yes. Feeling his sanity slowly return, Redlance asked the person, "Now... may I ask for the name of the individual who will deliver it?" The response came. With a sigh, the tree- shaper hung up. He told the young elf children, "The pizza will be here in fifteen minutes. It'll be brought by someone named Mekda, and--" All of a sudden, Replica's End went silent. Redlance looked about the room, and saw many pairs of eyes staring at him. "I take it that would be a bad thing," he said, swallowing hard. *** As Cutter charged into Santaclaus' hut, he shouted, "Liberation!" He did not know why-- it automatically happened. In the evil elf's place, captive Go-Backs were all about, as they had expected. However, the slaves were not busying themselves with idle tasks, nor were they having a good time. Instead, all of them were chained to an assembly line, placing plastic part on plastic part. The poor elves were making toys for Santaclaus' sadistic desires. The entire setup stunk of the anti- healer Winnowill's machinations--after all, hadn't she told them of this place? "This is terrible," Leetah whispered, clutching her coat close to herself, "We must release them from this monster." Jumping through the room, Starjumper began howling out random words. The wild elf, who hadn't received a cameo in a couple chapters, poited to something over the door of the hut. "Oh-oh," said Cutter and Nightfall at the same time. They rushed toward the unusual boy, only to be struck down by a glowing, yellow mallet. For a second, Rayek placed his right hand on his chin. "Funny," he said, staring at the newly flattened elves, "seems like Santaclaus has left behind some traps for us." While Strongbow slowly choked the life out of Rayek, the others stayed in place, trying to figure out the situation. If Starjumper had avoided the trap by speed alone, how would the rest of them produce enough instant acceleration? "I've got an idea," Kahvi mentioned. She spoke in a perfectly normal voice, proving there was more to her than the maniacal S&M- obsessed villainess side. From the depths of the large group came the comment, "This should be a good one." Though Pike looked around, trying to find the (obvious) babe who had said it, he could not place the voice to a face. "You be quiet," Kahvi replied. She then turned to the elves and said, "I think Rayek's little critter might come in handy again." The Sun Folk looked at his partner in crime. He then glanced at the two pancake-size Wolfriders. "First..." he said, wrapping his cloak around himself, "We must shrink it down to a more compact size. And I think I know how." -- To be continued in Chapter 5... "Invasion of Privacy" NOTES: I've long since forgotten which characters are in what place. If there are any obvious contradictions, let me know--I'd appreciate knowing. So... what have I done over the last few months? My 'Net hiatus was entirely voluntary. I felt I had better things to do. Fortunately, my story progress has continued. I may never write a serious EQ story, but my works are steadily improving. To write more effectively, rather than a more tangible goal, is my aim. My writing schedule will soon be posted on my website. But for those who can't visit it, or don't care to, here's the basics. I'll try to produce two stories each week--one for my Fanfic Outlet site, and one for The Addiction. Next week, I plan to devise a 'Quiz-related story (in script format), and following that, another chapter of 'Quiz itself. -Alan (August 23, 1999) OR <.../fanficoutlet> "Elfquest" and everything related to it is copyright 1978-99 Warp Graphics. Feel free to distribute this story, but don't put your name on it.