NationStates Jolt Archive

"...an' then, after thuh Great Elfy Insumurrection of thuh year Forty-T'ree-Dickity-Two, I done rised t' power! An' t' this day, the lights in the Great Cookie Tree have been on all day an' all night, as bright as the sun come risin'! And that's why, t' this day, I been callin' 'er The Empire of The Eternal Dawn."

Pa leans back on the porch swing and takes another long puff of his pipe, a warm smile on his face, his oversized red cap hanging over his dim grey eyes. The light of the large tree in front of him illuminates the small shanty of broken matches and Popsicle sticks in a dim orange hue that dulls the stars in the sky.

The young'uns are on the porch in front of him, as always. Pa can't remember which generation they are; too many have come and gone. But their stout, round faces, full of wonder and joy, tell Pa that they're of his line, the great line of Pa-Nunya, Most High Emperor and Commander and CEO of The Empire of The Eternal Dawn.

"Wow, Pa! Wutta great story!" young Bea-ea-ea'trice calls out, grinning as she ran one snot-covered hand through her curly red hair. "So you mean t'say we been on this planet longer 'n anybody?"

"Longer 'n anybody!?" Pa replies, his scratchy voice as high-falutin' as ever as he leans forward in the porch swing. "Lemme tell you young'uns somethin': ain't nobody left in the world but us! We done outlasted the Kee'eebler Klan, the Co'bb-ler Klan, the Sa'a'a'a'anta'a Klan, the Buncha Dirty Snot-Nosed Jerks Frolickin' in the Woods an' Shootin' Stuff with Arrows Klan... alla 'em! 's just us now, kiddies! Just the Nunya, our kin, an' all the great workers in the factory!"

The kids turn back with pride to the tree behind them. It's tremendous--thousands upon thousands of thumbs high. Nobody'd ever counted, of course; even as long as they lived (which was quite a long time), it'd take an elf a few dozen lifetimes to make it all the way to the top. It doesn't matter how big it was, of course; what matters is that inside, the kinfolk and friends of Nunya work and toil, hammering out the sugary sweet fruits of their labor until they're creamy on the outside, crunchy on the outside, and delicious on all sides...

"Pa! PA!"

A shrill voice from inside the house causes the three young children and Pa-Nunya to turn with a start as Ma-Z'l-Toff darts from the house, her black hair ruffled, her blue eyes wide. She wipes the sweat from her brow with her grease-stained apron, pointing wildly behind the house. Pa-Nunya leaps to his feet, putting his firm hands on Ma's shoulders.

"Now, calm down, Ma... tell me what happened..." he coos gently.

"It was... I was... well..." She fumbles over her words, playing with her apron strings as if the action holds the answer to her...

"SEE FOR YOURSELF!"

The force of Ma's shriek causes Pa to jump backward, barely missing the young'uns as Ma darts back into the house. The group follows, through the nutshell furniture decor of the den, through the dirty-pot-filled kitchen, and through the back door of the house.

Two giants walk off in the distance--one a woman, one a man. Both wear blue pants made of a strange, thick material along with bizarre tops--no collar, no cuffs, no sleeves, just a strange sort of thin material that hung about their bodies like an unfinished. The girl--a tall blonde whose clothes flatter her figure perfectly--leans to one side to kiss the boy on the cheek as the two return to the forest. Pa shrugs his shoulders as he turned his head toward Ma.

"Just two giants," he says. "I'm sure they didn't see the Tree. Most folks don't pay it no heed 'round these parts..."

"No, Pa! It ain't that!" Ma screams, pointing to the distant ground and the melting snow thereupon. Pa and the kids dart out to the snow and the giant's footprints--a strange lot with the word "REEBOK" inexplicably written backwards inside them.

"So? They got big feet," Pa chuckles. "I can see that plain as day..." All at once, Ma turns Pa around and gives him an ample slap in the face.

"You idiot!" she shouts. "How many sets o' footprints do ya see?" With a contemptuous snort, Pa turns back to the footprints and observes. His eyes go wide with shock.

"She's a..." he begins, fumbling over his words and falling backward on his behind in shock. "...that girl was a... a... A LIGHTFOOT!?"

"Shore as shootin', Pa!" Ma shouts, the terror still fresh in her face. "That girl's an ELF!"

Pa fumbles to his feet, then darts back into the house, stumbling up the slippery stoop and back into the den. He yanks back a blanket covering a table to reveal what appears to be a tiny HAM radio and microphone. Grabbing the microphone with one hand, he turns to Ma.

"Make shore th' dish is aligned!" he calls. Ma, still on the back porch, trots back behind a nearby tree, where a discarded satellite dish rests, repaired rather crudely with bits of tape and metal objects that the "giants" left behind in the forest. Ma carefully pushes the satellite into its proper position as Pa speaks inside, his voice carried through the cosmos by the power (and more than a little bit of luck) of Elfy engineering.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ATTENTION! ATTENTION!

The Most High Emperor and Commander and CEO and Ruler and Leader and General and Captain and King and President and Prime Minister and Leader of The Empire of The Eternal Dawn, Who Done Took Away the Power of the Buncha Dirty Snot-Nosed Jerks Frolickin' in the Woods an' Shootin' Stuff with Arrows Klan, Who Done Stopped the Kee'eebler Klan, Who Done Taught the Co'bb-ler Klan Who Their Daddy Was, Who Stuffed the Sa'a'a'a'anta'a Klan Back Up the Damned Chimney Where They Came From, Who Basks the Land in the Warming Glow of The Eternal Dawn from the Grand Splendor of The Great Cookie Tree, Who Speaks from Outta the Void for the First Time in a Damned Long Time, bids y'all listen up!

I just got word that there's been a reappearance of elves 'round these parts, an' I ain't really shore wut t'think of it! It's the lightfooted kind, the big sort with pointy ears who like t'frolic in the forests shootin' arrows--or at least they did last time I checked! Fer all I know, they could be flyin' 'round the stars now, shootin' at people with sum kinda... uh... SUPER-ARROWS!

So... uh... y'have my location, an' I'm set t'receive! If y'all know anythin' 'bout wut's goin' on with the elves comin' back... let me know!

Your pal, Pa-Nunya, the Most High Emperor and Commander and CEO and... aw, hell, you know how it ends...

Old man on the back porch!
Old man on the back porch!
Old man on the back porch and that
Old man is me-e-eeee!

Bump, dammit.

"Now, that is just the DAMNEDEST thing...'

The patrons at the Wet Mongoose on the tiny island of Hartshire had been listening to the radio for several hours now, as the bizarre transmission repeated itself, over and over and over again. The station, in fact, had been playing it repeatedly since it had first appeared, and the sleepy residents of Hartshire didn't seem to mind. The old log-cabin-turned-bar smelled of pine and beer as every member of the group stood around the radio, nervously wondering who this person was, and most of all, what he was doing on the island.

A woman burst from the front door of the bar, her black-and-white pants suit clinging to her body thanks to the rain, her black hair a mess. She thumped a briefcase onto the table, then pulled a small hand towel from the wall to begin the arduous task of making herself look decent again. The bartender, a broad-shouldered and balding man in his late fifties, turned toward the door, offering a wave in greeting.

"'Bout time you got back, Corrina!" he shouted. "The station's still playin' that message from the Pa-Nunya character! Have y'got any information for us?"

"In a second, Pete..." Corrina replied, wringing out the ends of her jacket. "Swear to God, it's pourin' like damned waterfall out there..."

"...an' yer wet as a spawnin' salmon!" a man shouted from the group, chuckling as he turned back to the radio.

"Oh, shut yer damned mouth, Hal!" the woman snapped, at the same time popping open the ends of the briefcase and flinging some papers Pete's way. "Now, best we can tell, the signal's comin' from the north end of the island. It almost seems like a HAM radio frequency, but somethin' 'bout it's jammin' up the satellites for KHRT, an', well... the station says as much as they've tried, they can't get the signal back."

"The DAMNEDEST thing..." Pete muttered as he perused the papers. "Anyone tried goin' t' the north end?"

"We tried a couple o' times..." Corrina replied, shaking her head slowly, "...an' we got nothin'. As much as we tried to find somethin' up there, all we found was forest... and more forest... and more forest... and..."

"...okay, Corr, I get it," Pete interrupts. "Mebbe they'd come out fer an elf?"

Corrina sighs slowly. "There ain't no elves left on the island, Pete," she replies in desperation. "We searched everywhere, checked the guest registry of every hotel, and there isn't an elf anywhere on the damned island. And we probably'd have a hard time figurin' out if there WAS one here anyway. You know how we are here. People come an' go all the time. Eloped lovers, refugees, people who've lost their place in any other world... we're a holdin' cell here, Pete. There's no guarantee anyone here will be here tomorrow."

Pete sits for a moment, pondering the situation and scratching his deep red beard. "Then... mebbe we'd best call fer sum other elves?"

Corrina sits for a moment, thinking. And then...

Press Release to All Peoples of the World:

It has come to our attention on the island of Hartshire that a strange group of elves has mysteriously appeared on the north shore of our island. While I've attempted to make contact with these elves, they have kept themselves in seclusion, apparently for want of communication with some of their own kind.

If there are any elves who would wish to come to Hartshire to visit these peoples, you are more than welcome. However, be warned that they seem a bit unorthodox and may be hostile. Approach with caution.


Sincerely yours,

http://www.plasticsurgeonforyou.com/images/elizabeth.jpg
Corrina Janette Fogle
Chief of Affairs
The Island of Hartshire

The radio signal then *BUMP*ed into the satellite. The signal played again. There was much rejoicing.

"...an' then, after thuh Great Elfy Insumurrection of thuh year Forty-T'ree-Dickity-Two, I done rised t' power! An' t' this day, the lights in the Great Cookie Tree have been on all day an' all night, as bright as the sun come risin'! And that's why, t' this day, I been callin' 'er The Empire of The Eternal Dawn."

Pa leans back on the porch swing and takes another long puff of his pipe, a warm smile on his face, his oversized red cap hanging over his dim grey eyes. The light of the large tree in front of him illuminates the small shanty of broken matches and Popsicle sticks in a dim orange hue that dulls the stars in the sky.

The young'uns are on the porch in front of him, as always. Pa can't remember which generation they are; too many have come and gone. But their stout, round faces, full of wonder and joy, tell Pa that they're of his line, the great line of Pa-Nunya, Most High Emperor and Commander and CEO of The Empire of The Eternal Dawn.

"Wow, Pa! Wutta great story!" young Bea-ea-ea'trice calls out, grinning as she ran one snot-covered hand through her curly red hair. "So you mean t'say we been on this planet longer 'n anybody?"

"Longer 'n anybody!?" Pa replies, his scratchy voice as high-falutin' as ever as he leans forward in the porch swing. "Lemme tell you young'uns somethin': ain't nobody left in the world but us! We done outlasted the Kee'eebler Klan, the Co'bb-ler Klan, the Sa'a'a'a'anta'a Klan, the Buncha Dirty Snot-Nosed Jerks Frolickin' in the Woods an' Shootin' Stuff with Arrows Klan... alla 'em! 's just us now, kiddies! Just the Nunya, our kin, an' all the great workers in the factory!"

The kids turn back with pride to the tree behind them. It's tremendous--thousands upon thousands of thumbs high. Nobody'd ever counted, of course; even as long as they lived (which was quite a long time), it'd take an elf a few dozen lifetimes to make it all the way to the top. It doesn't matter how big it was, of course; what matters is that inside, the kinfolk and friends of Nunya work and toil, hammering out the sugary sweet fruits of their labor until they're creamy on the outside, crunchy on the outside, and delicious on all sides...

"Pa! PA!"

A shrill voice from inside the house causes the three young children and Pa-Nunya to turn with a start as Ma-Z'l-Toff darts from the house, her black hair ruffled, her blue eyes wide. She wipes the sweat from her brow with her grease-stained apron, pointing wildly behind the house. Pa-Nunya leaps to his feet, putting his firm hands on Ma's shoulders.

"Now, calm down, Ma... tell me what happened..." he coos gently.

"It was... I was... well..." She fumbles over her words, playing with her apron strings as if the action holds the answer to her...

"SEE FOR YOURSELF!"

The force of Ma's shriek causes Pa to jump backward, barely missing the young'uns as Ma darts back into the house. The group follows, through the nutshell furniture decor of the den, through the dirty-pot-filled kitchen, and through the back door of the house.

Two giants walk off in the distance--one a woman, one a man. Both wear blue pants made of a strange, thick material along with bizarre tops--no collar, no cuffs, no sleeves, just a strange sort of thin material that hung about their bodies like an unfinished. The girl--a tall blonde whose clothes flatter her figure perfectly--leans to one side to kiss the boy on the cheek as the two return to the forest. Pa shrugs his shoulders as he turned his head toward Ma.

"Just two giants," he says. "I'm sure they didn't see the Tree. Most folks don't pay it no heed 'round these parts..."

"No, Pa! It ain't that!" Ma screams, pointing to the distant ground and the melting snow thereupon. Pa and the kids dart out to the snow and the giant's footprints--a strange lot with the word "REEBOK" inexplicably written backwards inside them.

"So? They got big feet," Pa chuckles. "I can see that plain as day..." All at once, Ma turns Pa around and gives him an ample slap in the face.

"You idiot!" she shouts. "How many sets o' footprints do ya see?" With a contemptuous snort, Pa turns back to the footprints and observes. His eyes go wide with shock.

"She's a..." he begins, fumbling over his words and falling backward on his behind in shock. "...that girl was a... a... A LIGHTFOOT!?"

"Shore as shootin', Pa!" Ma shouts, the terror still fresh in her face. "That girl's an ELF!"

Pa fumbles to his feet, then darts back into the house, stumbling up the slippery stoop and back into the den. He yanks back a blanket covering a table to reveal what appears to be a tiny HAM radio and microphone. Grabbing the microphone with one hand, he turns to Ma.

"Make shore th' dish is aligned!" he calls. Ma, still on the back porch, trots back behind a nearby tree, where a discarded satellite dish rests, repaired rather crudely with bits of tape and metal objects that the "giants" left behind in the forest. Ma carefully pushes the satellite into its proper position as Pa speaks inside, his voice carried through the cosmos by the power (and more than a little bit of luck) of Elfy engineering.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ATTENTION! ATTENTION!

The Most High Emperor and Commander and CEO and Ruler and Leader and General and Captain and King and President and Prime Minister and Leader of The Empire of The Eternal Dawn, Who Done Took Away the Power of the Buncha Dirty Snot-Nosed Jerks Frolickin' in the Woods an' Shootin' Stuff with Arrows Klan, Who Done Stopped the Kee'eebler Klan, Who Done Taught the Co'bb-ler Klan Who Their Daddy Was, Who Stuffed the Sa'a'a'a'anta'a Klan Back Up the Damned Chimney Where They Came From, Who Basks the Land in the Warming Glow of The Eternal Dawn from the Grand Splendor of The Great Cookie Tree, Who Speaks from Outta the Void for the First Time in a Damned Long Time, bids y'all listen up!

I just got word that there's been a reappearance of elves 'round these parts, an' I ain't really shore wut t'think of it! It's the lightfooted kind, the big sort with pointy ears who like t'frolic in the forests shootin' arrows--or at least they did last time I checked! Fer all I know, they could be flyin' 'round the stars now, shootin' at people with sum kinda... uh... SUPER-ARROWS!

So... uh... y'have my location, an' I'm set t'receive! If y'all know anythin' 'bout wut's goin' on with the elves comin' back... let me know!

Your pal, Pa-Nunya, the Most High Emperor and Commander and CEO and... aw, hell, you know how it ends...

"What a strange little bunch," Rialla commented with a small smile.

"Disturbing little bunch, if you ask me," Semir noted quietly.

"You think so?"

"Certainly. Weren't you kinda busy before you noticed that on the screen?"

Rialla cleared her throat with a grin. "Uhhh....huhhh."

<The rest of this conversation is censored by order of the Censorship Board of the Universe>

~ This has been an utterly OOC post pretending to be an IC post, and not doing so all that well

Hy! This will be a normal post as soon as I'll be back from the holiday (meaning, you will not here from me until the next year :) )
I wish you all a nice New Year's Eve Party!
:P :P :P :P :P :P :P
And what a party it was...

Ha!Elves... I hope I won't exagerate with this...

The message was very weird. But it was a message. It was so long ago since Lucian have heard that little gizmo playing anything that now, he could not remember where that darn thing was. Oh Yeas! At the necklace.

The Most High Emperor and Commander and CEO and Ruler and Leader and General...
oh yeah... an old guy
... Who Basks the Land in the Warming Glow of The Eternal Dawn...
uhum! location...
just got word that there's been a reappearance of elves 'round these parts
Oh my SUN! Are they mine??
It's the lightfooted kind, the big sort with pointy ears who like t'frolic in the forests shootin' arrows
UH! ugly creatures. Or at least they were last time I checked!
Fer all I know, they could be flyin' 'round the stars now, shootin' at people with sum kinda... uh... SUPER-ARROWS!

Darn! The wind started to blow, and the cloud he was sitting was moving out of range! Parasites invaded the channel.
Lucian spread his wings and lift off!

The rain stopped as soon as Lucian got over the clouds. The sky was clear now, so he (like so many times) had no place to stay. The radio was still sending parasites, but now on all frequencies.

[yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyybuzyymanyyybuzzzyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy]
If there are any elves who would wish [yyyyyyy] Hartshire [yyy]these peoples, [yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy] welcome. [yyyy] warned that seem a bit un[yyyyyyyyyyy]be hostile. Approach [yyyyyybuzzyyyagainyyyyyyyyy]

Hartshire! His head filled with pain! Hartshire! Suddently the memories came rushing out in his head... the beautifull life before...his ruling family...the insurection...his family...the fights...the betrails....his family fleing to safety without the wounded Lucian... And when the day his necklace radio stop telling him the fugitives were ok...
The last Flyer in Hartshire lost all he had in Forty-T'ree-Dickity-Two.