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INTRO TAG: he first part of a multi-story commission from 
jawargod . Two gamers find themselves drawn into the ultimate form of Live-Action Roleplay, when they are cast into the personages of characters from their RPG source books.
A second part to the tale is now up for view here: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/25739167/
X--- PREV | FIRST | NEXT --->
The High And The Dark 1: Strange Circle
By: DankeDonuts
https://www.furaffinity.net/user/dankedonuts/
“It’s bullshit.” Eric cast a dismissive hand at the thin game manual lying on the basement table. On the cover, a pair of female elves in revealing leather armor were treading through the forest. With hair of white and skin of charcoal grey. Seen from below, in order to display a large and silvery moon in the night sky above. It’s title, Seekers Of Moonlight: Dark Elves Redeemed. “Weapons-grade malarkium.”
“It’s been going on for years,” Kevin stated. “Decades.”
“Decades of snowflakes ignoring the way the ‘verse was always written to be. A certain author, wanking it into his typewriter.” Eric, the broader of the pair, rose three fingers in succession. “Dark Elves are bred evil, they worship evil, they die evil. The end. Just because FSG cashed in on some memes and made a splatbook for surface dwelling Dark Elves doesn’t make a whole society of them make any sense in-universe.”
“That is bullshit.” Kevin chuckled, wanting to keep things light. “They’re thinking, feeling beings. They can look around their world and decide shit ain’t right.”
“There’s a goddess -- a Greater Deity! -- making them like they are. Keeping them that way.”
Kevin shook his head. “And only because of said Spider Queen does a society of backstabbing, sadistic maniacs not fall apart. Her will imposed upon all for her kicks. ‘No exceptions’ sounds awfully Lawful for society that’s supposed to be Chaotic. Now there’s a contradiction!” It was for the best that these little conflicts of opinion got resolved between games. Kevin could still remember the dark day a whole sci-fi campaign fell apart because two players absolutely would not stop bitching at each other about how inter-dimensional wormholes work. “Plus, Dark Elves are still elves. They can hear the call of the entire Pantheon. And besides, this isn’t the canon world. It’s our world.” One that the two men took turns running games in. Cumulatively building, with the help of their players, a long and well-loved creation that was uniquely theirs.
“A GM’s job is to make a consistent world,” Eric retorted. Protective of his share of the project. “This just doesn’t wash with the way I was using Dark Elves over in Bleak Haven.” He pointed over to a large painting of the group’s self-made continent of Trelleria. A running project of one of their more artistically gifted members. “Realm history negates pockets of goody-goody Dark Elves just popping up out of nowhere.”
“A GM’s job is to make a world their players want to spend time in,” Kevin reminded his friend. One of the reasons the tall gamer had wanted to create a new world distinct from LSG’s official campaigns was to do just that. In his opinion, LSG’s official campaign world, The Everliving Lands, catered too heavily to Elves at the expense of other playable races. “Dan’s been talking about bringing his girlfriend into the gaming group, yeah? Well, we’ve been talking over the options, and she wants to play a Dark Elf wizard.” He pointed out another section of map. “I can drop a colony of Good ones over in the Jade Mountains. Run a bit of plane-hopping to establish a Cleric from another reality crossing over and gathering followers to the cause of peaceful relations with the surface world.”
A wry grin was the reply. “And I suppose next you’ll be planting a Druid Circle full of hippy-dippy tree-hugging Orcs,” Eric scoffed. “Just because a player wants to try something, that doesn't make it a good idea. Or have you forgotten John’s… Well, half of John’s characters?”
“I let you bring in those cat people from a different system,” Kevin reminded his fellow GM, starting to lose his patience. Just a little.
Eric twisted his lip. “I don’t know. This rubs me wrong.”
“Well, it’s happening.” Much as he respected his friend's commitment to telling a tale that ‘made sense,’ he couldn’t let that stubbornness get in the way of someone else’s good time. “Just look the book over, alright?” Kevin picked up the book, and passed it over. Privately wishing that Eric would see things his way for once.
Eric reluctantly reached for the book. Kevin could practically see a similar wish rolling across his eyes. “Fine. I’ll read it. But I probably won't like-”
A flash of light overwhelmed the young man’s senses. He shielded his eyes, but thought he caught a glimpse of… Was it coming from the book? No, it couldn’t be!
When he was able to see again, nothing was the same.
Around him, there was no longer a cloistered basement sanctuary. Where there should have been short, hatch-patterned carpet, there was a bed of grass. Where there should have been bookcases, movie posters, atlases fictional words, there were trees reaching out in every direction. Where there should have been a few ceiling lights, one of them flickering, there was an evening sky. Purple-pink, with a crescent moon too large to be Earth’s.
Where there should have been four walls, there was now a circle of slender beings.
The one immediately before him was the tallest of the lot. With skin of yellow-gold, and eyes of deepest amber. Her hair, platinum blonde, was long but done up in an elaborate weave around a jeweled diadem. She was dressed in an elegant robe, pale green silk hemmed in shining gold filigree, featuring an almost impossibly low neckline that left little of a very impressive bustline to the imagination. A lifetime of fantasy fandom told him that he was looking at a High Elf. She was looking at him in dead-eyed shock.
Were this curvaceous figure to be considered standing at the Twelve O’clock position from Kevin’s vantage, then at Two stood a Wild Elf. A copperskined male, with indigo eyes. He was covered in dark tattoos; lines of elven text among various esoteric shapes. He was lean, wiry, and half naked. What covering he had seemed to have been scavenged from local flora and fauna, though artfully done and deceptively sturdy. A shortbow was in his hand, one arrow half-knocked.
Next, at Four O’clock, stood a Sea Elf. With skin of teal and armor of shells. Dark blue hair draped long and free, framing sets of gills on both sides of his neck. Dark, almost black, eyes gazed at her with an inscrutable face. His long trident was in fact a double-weapon, for it had a spear’s head on the other end.
Eight O’clock featured a Snow elf. Stocky and muscular. Pale, not quite white, skinned was she. Her grey eyes as cold as the land she must have hailed from. Her fur-lined longcoat covered a full set of plate armor, beautifully inscribed along the edges. A halberd was her weapon of choice, and she held it in a steely grip.
Finally, at Ten O’clock, another archer. This one bore a longbow. A Wood Elf woman with a ruddy reddish tan. Auburn hair in thick braids stood out against a green cloak. One glove was larger and thicker than the other, and covered in light scratches.
All of these elves held their weapons in ready positions. Not poised for violence, but ready to defend.
“This. Is. Impossible.” No sooner had the words left the High Elf’s mouth, did she raise a hand to her mouth. Her eyes went wide upon the sight of its slender, golden digits.
“And yet here we are, my Queen,” said a male voice from behind her. The lead High Elf gasped and turned to face the owner of the voice.
At the same moment, Kevin did the same. Checking who might sneak up on him.
There behind him, he saw several Dark Elves of both sexes fanning out in a triangle pointed at himself. Near-black of skin and with hair of bright white, every one. The women clearly outnumbered the men. They wore dark leather armor, no two sets alike, that protected or exposed varying amounts of skin. Where one would expect to see spider-sigils and web designs embossed on their armor, there were instead moons and rolling lines symbolic light of trailing off from the orbs. Gilded in silver, or some other metal of similar color and shine. Exactly the irregular uniform of the Dark Elf refugees that Kevin had just been describing.
None of these elves were armed. Kevin was suddenly very aware that the two elves closes to him were armed with melee weapons. Impulsively, he patted himself down for weapons. What he felt made no sense at all. Smooth, curving hips. A belly far firmer than could be earned from a lifetime of indulgence in video games and energy drinks. A rounded behind. And… and… boobs! Big boobs! Bound within a boostier of leather scale. His eyes shot downward. Partly to be sure they were real, partly to convince himself this wasn’t happening. They were, and it was.
The pair of them, giggling softly due to the movement of the leather, were nearly black of color. As were the hands cupping the boostier. As were the arms attached to those, and everything else. Below, his -- her -- legs were partly obscured by a leather skirt, and partly exposed, before being taken up by moon-iconed boots.
One of the dark women before him, with short-cropped hair and more armor up top than down below, coughed lightly to acquire his attention. Then looked pointedly at Kevin’s collar. Reaching toward it, he felt a large gemstone nestled just above his cleavage It felt warm to his touch and got warmer as he held his hand there. The jewel looked like a large teardrop, rounded at the bottom, faceted at the pointed tip. It was smoky black and almost opaque, but glowed from within with a fierce red light. It was secured to the wearer’s neck by an onyx chain, and held to the chain by clasps carved (or, as was more likely with the chain, magically molded) of the same stone. Shaped to resemble tarantula fangs.
All at once the man -- the woman! -- the Dark Elfess! -- knew where he was, and what this was. This was the Everliving Lands. The sourcebook he had just been holding held within its pages a story of how its colony of good-hearted Dark Elves came to be accepted by their surface cousins. (As well as sidebars for turning the tale itself into a campaign module). This was that tale. He was living it! As the leader of the peaceful Dark Elf pilgrims!
“Oh, boy…” Kevin muttered under his breath. Aware that while he understood the words he had just spoken, they were not English. There was only one way out of this that Kevin could see. He/she turned back to face the many-colored circle of potential enemies. Including their High Elf member, who herself had only just turned back around to face the gathering.
He/she took a deep breath before opening a full-lipped and purple-painted mouth. Not only to calm him/herself, but to stall a few extra seconds while he/she pulled up the memory of the name he/she was supposed to be speaking under.
“We come unarmed, as I promised we would” he started. Trying to remember as much of the story as he could. Raising the amulet up. “And I hold in my hand a piece of the First Star! The earliest light in the world, created by Shaelnel Habraadrel, Prime God of all our kin and kind. Plucked from the sky when the Spider Queen betrayed their love. A piece of it given to the forbearers of our disparate races.” With a step to the side, the speaker’s free hand waved back. To draw witness to the throng of black bodies behind. “We are your bro - sisters and brothers.
“Whilst I am Tathaudear Tyrrnal. Eighth daughter of T’rissarra, The Blood Queen. Princess of Eherv Rret’mtor. Fifth in line to that city’s grotesque throne. I have renounced my ties to that vile place, and brought all who would follow upward out of the darkness we were born to. Away from the evil and madness that infests my mother’s people. Toward the light of peace, as embodied by the blessed Moon herself.”
‘The Princess’ was panting deeply once the full-throated speech had been delivered. ‘Tath’ couldn’t help smiling, just a little. He/she figured they’d done pretty well, for having only read the speech once. Any half-decent GM had to be good at giving speeches.
With a fluid flourish, the Sea Elf reversed his trident, bringing the spear tit to bear. It was a move no doubt meant to intimidate, and it had that very effect. Several Dark Elves gasped, and a chill went up Kevin’s spine in particular, as he pointed the spear tip just to the side of the chest of the Dark Elf before him. With said spear tip, just barely out of threatening range, he manipulated the amulet which was still held in the grey-black hand. That he might appraise it in his own peculiar way.
If the reality of the situation Kevin found himself in hadn’t hit yet, it did now. For this was very real, very sharp, point shining his way. As real as the heart pounding in his chest. And the cold trickle of sweat snaking down his cheek. The ‘gamer senses’ of the human-turned-elf kicked in, analyzing the situation. The Snow and Sea Elf were within a five-foot movement each of flanking him and ripping him to pieces. Their weapons had reach, meaning they could tear down any Dark Elf who rushed in from behind to save their liege.
Countless heartbeats later, the teal-skinned man spoke. “I have only seen my people’s Fragment but a few times. But it is not a sight I could forget. This strikes me as one of its kind.”
“Any child born of Elvin blood cannot help but know the power of a Fragment,” stated the Wood Elf. “How did you come by it?” she asked Kevin directly. Inhumanly green eyes bored into what had to be red ones. Not that there was a mirror about to confirm that guess.
In reply, he -- ’She, dammit! Stay in character!’ -- dared to move the spear tip to a less lethal direction. Then issued an ultimatum. “There’s a story to tell, there. But I require assurance of my people’s safety while we discuss it.”
The Wild elf sneered. “You dare to make demands? After we have already accommodated this parlay?”
“I dare to make sure that what ‘accommodations’ have already been made will be kept.”
“We stand honorbound to see that they do,” The even-faced Snow Elf woman was impossible to read. Had she expressed her comment out of support for maintaining a fragile peace? Or from offense at her honor being questioned?
The High Elf, who had spent the interchange looking furtively its various participants took a step forward. And declared with an almost theatrically haughty voice, “Bring this one to my Summer Palace. We shall hear her tale at dinner.”
The High Elf turned then and walked away. Her every step revealing slits in her robe which allowed long, long looks up her legs. A critical aspect of FSG’s version of High Elves was that they believed themselves the very pinnacle of physical beauty. Their clothes were designed to draw attention to their bodies, not smother them under extravagance. But that wasn’t exactly important right now.
The male who had spoken up behind her before, likely a second or bodyguard, followed in her wake. The pair had just disappeared behind the treeline when the Queen called out, “The Princess may bring a retinue of six! The rest escort back to their camp! That they may tell the others the parlay is ongoing!”
Six Elves, Wood and Wild of kind, appeared from the trees as if they’d walked in from behind a veil of invisibility. Utterly unseen within their native trees before they chose to be seen. Taking the cue, ‘Tath’ pointed to six of her own followers. Each was taken up by one of the new elves, who acted as escorts. Leading their charges through the Queen’s wake. The rest moved towards the remaining Dark Elves, and with them walked back and deeper into the green.
The message sent by having such a cadre of escorts back to the Dark Elf camp was clear; if anyone there tried anything funny, they’d never see the weapon that ended their mischief.
The Princess’ own escorts were the remaining four members of the Circle, who moved to circle her. Keeping themselves at even positions, diagonally ahead of and behind her. They kept to her pace, and their silence left a firm and no doubt deliberate impression of its own; Kevin felt as much a prisoner as a guest.
. . .
The last light of sunset was retreating behind a distant mountain range. The Summer Palace rose majestically ahead of it, from the center of a large lake whose waters were still and reflective as a mirror. The Palace was tall and austere as a High Elf, build onto and through a conic hilltop. An organic collection of spires, statues, arches, and tall bridges. Music emanated from it loud enough to be heard from the shore.
Tath (née Kevin) had not yet fully adjusted to this body’s keen low-light vision. It took a moment of fierce concentration to notice that what might have been shadows cast by the palace’s many parts were in face holes bored within it. She realized with a smile that the whole complex was built as a giant instrument. Playing the wind.
There were a great many ships in the lake between it and them. Some of which, long and thin and gilded, were on their way to meet the motley collection of Elves. Their shimmering sails billowing with wind that did not reach the technicolor collection of elves which had come from the clearing. As far as she could see in either direction here was no pier.
The Queen had recovered from whatever loss of composure had taken hold of her in the circle. Here, she walked tall and proud as her seasonal home. At her signal, she and her gold-skinned retinue walked out to meet the first ship. The rest were made to wait. Right onto the surface of the lake, their steps lit in pale green upon the water itself. High and dry, they trod right onto the starboard side of the ships itself. Where a platform waited for them, leading to an ivy-wreathed stair that would bring them to the main deck.
A smaller elf, possibly a child or young teenager, stood before the wheel. The instant the Queen’s foot hit the deck, he spoke loud and clear, “Announcing her royal majesty, Shahernei Azemenne! Queen of The High Elves! Protector of the Realm! Keeper of the Golden Fragment! Wise as the heavens! Lustrous as the dawn!” The music coming from the Palace took on a lyrical aspect. A choir or some such.
Tath rolled her eyes. High Elves liked their pomp and circumstance, but come on! The Dark Elves that had travelled with her were stone silent. Several of them shifted their weight uneasily. They were well used to seeing high-ranking women make shows of their power. Quite often those displays turned lethal. Or worse.
“This won’t be like back in the down below,” she assured them quietly. Calmly. And having slipped into another language. This one similar to the lyrical Elvish words she’d been speaking, but harsher and layered in glottal stops. But still, there was an uneasiness behind her red-on-red eyes. For she’d spent the walk wracking her memory for all she could of the module she’d handed to Eric as Kevin. This Summer Palace wasn’t part of that, so it had gone at least a little off the rails. But all the characters were here. And that meant that Shahernei Azemenne, Queen of The High Elves, was in a great deal of trouble.
If the story played out as he had read it, she had less than a day to live
. . .
Kevin’s first chance to be alone with his own thoughts came when he was delivered into a private bedroom to bathe and dress for dinner. The potential outfits laying out on his double-wide canopy bed were at least as revealing as the one the High Elf Queen herself had been set up in when they ‘met.’ If one could truly meet a fictional being.
Dark Elves dressed skimpily as a display of power. Bare skin was a declaration that they were untouchable. Invincible. Kevin felt like none of those things. He was a stranger in a strange land. A strange body. A body that had been sneered at plenty of times in the walk from Summer Palace pier to his current residence within it.
Kevin Lanchester, Tathaudear Tyrrnal, whoever, still in their leather skirted armor, sat at the edge of the bed. Hands on their knees, looking down at the floor from across a pair of black sweater melons. Feeling terrified for the small group of ‘followers’ that had followed him into the maw. And for themself: should this world prove as real as it felt, “Living here might just kill me.”
It was in the midst of this reverie that keen Elvin ears picked up a screaming sound to the left. His eyes darted that way, to see a section of wall, covered in a majestic painting of a charging stallion, begin to rotate.
Suddenly afraid for his life in a land filled with people who hated his guts Kevin rose to his feet. Taking up a combat-ready stance by instinct, standing at an angle to the door, one foot in from of the other to minimize his profile. Knees bent, arms arched for palm-strikes. Surprised at himself, realized that he somehow knew a form of Unarmed Combat at least as well as he knew two alien languages. Most likely Stinging Spider style, but best not to dwell on particulars in this moment.
While the Dark Elf asked himself while had roll the better Initiative, out of the wall crept a single gilded foot. Followed by the rest of…. Queen Shahernei?!
“Should you really be here?” Asked Kevin, now sliding back into character as Tath. Meaning, first and foremost, that he wasn’t going to step out of combat until she was given good reason.
“Does a Felaarin shit in the woods?” the Queen asked in reply. One eyebrow raised tentatively. Hopefully.
“Felaarin?” Tath asked roughly. Only for her hard stare to become a wide smile as the scales fell from her eyes. Felaarin were the cat-people imported into his RGP group’s game world from a superhero campaign that used to be run by… “Eric?”
“Kevin?” Even having heard their True Name spoken aloud, the golden woman still had a wash of skepticism on her perfect face.
“How did you work out it was me?”
“Feeling yourself up to check you were a lady was a pretty big clue,” Eric snerked. “Sorry I took so long to get you alone, but I was trying not to be obvious.”
Kevin’s girlish lips wrinkled up almost to a scowl, but with a sigh he twisted them instead and tilted his head in acknowledgment. It was a big clue. And one he was lucky the ‘locals’ had missed. He’d have to be more careful in the future, if he -- if they -- were to find a way back home. Likely, they'd need to find a way out of the Palace first. “How did you know about that secret door?” he asked, pointing.
“The LSG website posted a bunch of unpublished GameLog articles, after the magazine got cancelled.” Eric threw up his royal head and spoke briefly with haughty airs. “Her Majesty's Seasonal Homes was one of them.” Resuming his Earth-bound posture and patter, he trailed off on a geeky tangent. From the maps I found in my rooms, they’re all here. And that’s not all! Everythingis here. The Towering Forest, the Broken Mountain, the--”
“Enough, enough,” Kevin killed the list with a wave of his hand. The question of whether or not this ‘world’ was full of every published First Star product, or just the ones Kevin and Eric were personally familiar with could be tabled for later. “Outside the Palace doesn't matter right now. You’re in danger right here.”
“Whaddaymean me?” Erick smirked. “Pack of Dark Elves wanders into High Elf territory, I think they’re the ones in trouble. And, well…” He motioned back and forth between the two of them.
“Yeah, but you’re the one that’s going to be assassinated.”
That wiped the smile of Her Majesty’s face! Kevin siezed upon the gap-mouthed silence that followed to serve up a soupcon of infodump. “The situation as I know it is this. The other four elves from the circle are not royalty. They’re representatives of their respective realms, speaking with the voice of their crowns. You are a crown, because this is your land we -- the Dark Elf pilgrims -- popped in on.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Eric stated. “I just wriggled out of a sit-down with the four Voices. That’s what they’re calling themselves. Weird that there’s no one in this story from the Desert Tribes. They’re my favorite Elves,” he added with a sigh.
Kevin waved them away. “Probably cut out to streamline the plot. In the splatbook tale, two of the Voices are firmly against letting my group stay. Two of them are firmly against it. Yours the tie-breaking vote.” He looked to his friend for confirmation. “That how things shook out at your talk?”
“Yep.” the High Elf nodded. “Snow feels honor bound to give you as go so long as you don’t screw us. Wood thinks the trees are here for everyone, and that includes you. She just wouldn’t dare say it in front of you. Wild and Sea would love to see you gutted and served for dinner. I’m hoping they were joking about that.”
Tath swallowed. “Wonderful. And it gets better. At least some of my retinue is double-agents working for her highness The Blood Queen to undermine any chance at peace --”
“Ha!” Eric pointed vigorously. “Ha! I told you Dark Elves can’t ever be trusted --”
“ -- but they’re not the ones who are going to kill you.”
“Haahaa.. Huh?”
Kevin led his friend over to the bed to sit down. “If events are matching the splatbook, one of the Voices is working with the evil Dark Elves,” Kevin continued, “Communicating with the double-agents somehow. They’re going to knife you after dinner and frame my contingent. The two yes-votes will switch sides and they’ll all declare war on us. Er, me and the other Dark Elves.”
“I don’t care about the politics of who’s going to kill me,” Eric seethed, shoulders tensing. “I care about who is going to kill me… And obviously you, too! So spill, already.”
Kevin shrugged his shoulders. “I… don’t remember.” His chest shrugged a moment later.
“What?” Eric’s orange eyes went wide with shock. He started pacing about the room. Long, lovely legs once more showing themselves off. “How can you now remember that! It’s a really important part!”
Kevin frantically motioned for Eric to keep it down. Then pointed to his (her) long ears, then the door. “I only read the thing once,” he confessed. “And I was reading it with a thought toward how I’d have to change the text to fit in our ‘verse. What I can tell you it’s not the Wood Elf. That was the switch-up I was going to make up for our game. Her falcon was going to be -- is going to be? -- one of the trickster gods. Screwing with Elves for shits and giggles.”
Grasping for a way out of all this, the victim-to-be grasped onto Kevin’s lack of familiarity with the Palace. “I could have sent the story off the rails when I moved the action here, right?”
Kevin nodded. “Well, the Queen was supposed to have set up tents in the forest. Where a group of PCs could walk in on events and play them out.” Then shook his head, uncertain. “I don’t know. The assassin uses a Dark Elf dagger for the frameup.” Most likely one of those daggers with too many curves. Perfect for causing a wound to keep bleeding, so the in-game lore said. He wasn’t an RL expert on weapons. “That’s it!”
When Kevin leapt forward, a sly smile on his face, Eric reacted with an “Aaaahhhh!” of surprise.
The Dark Elfess began pacing, the gears of metagaming grinding in his head. “My lot came unarmed to the parlay. But suppose one could have been be smuggling a weapon-”
“More than one,” Eric interrupted. “They are Dark Elves, after all.”
“That’s racist,” Kevin frowned.
Eric moved his fists to his hips. “Check yourself for a hidden weapon. Go on.”
Kevin shook his head in exasperation. “My character would never have done anything so reckless as to -” There were two thing throwing knives secured behind some of his skirt flaps. “Shut it!” Kevin hissed. “The point is, we can stop this assassination and catch the guilty parties if we can catch them in the act of transferring the weapon.”
Eric’s hands moved to his bountiful hips. “And how, pray tell, can we do that?”
Kevin leaned against a bedpost and pondered the question for a moment before an answer came. “We speak Elvin, and I’m pretty sure I know hand-to-hand here. I’m guessing we can cast magical spells.”
The Queen raised an eyebrow, then started waving his arms about. Randomly at first, but as he went on, the movements became more rhythmic and focused. Until at last, his petite palms lit up with bright white light. Light reflected in the giddy smile he gave his friend.
Inspired by that triumph, Kevin attempted his own spell. As he fumbled through the somatic motions, the proper words came to mind for the effect he was reaching for. Upon speaking them aloud, in the harsh Dark Elf tongue. When his vision degraded into a hazy monochrome, he knew that he’d faded from his friend’s sight. With an invisible mouth, he whispered, “Let’s get to work.”
X--- PREV | FIRST | NEXT --->
jawargod . Two gamers find themselves drawn into the ultimate form of Live-Action Roleplay, when they are cast into the personages of characters from their RPG source books. A second part to the tale is now up for view here: https://www.furaffinity.net/view/25739167/
X--- PREV | FIRST | NEXT --->
The High And The Dark 1: Strange Circle
By: DankeDonuts
https://www.furaffinity.net/user/dankedonuts/
“It’s bullshit.” Eric cast a dismissive hand at the thin game manual lying on the basement table. On the cover, a pair of female elves in revealing leather armor were treading through the forest. With hair of white and skin of charcoal grey. Seen from below, in order to display a large and silvery moon in the night sky above. It’s title, Seekers Of Moonlight: Dark Elves Redeemed. “Weapons-grade malarkium.”
“It’s been going on for years,” Kevin stated. “Decades.”
“Decades of snowflakes ignoring the way the ‘verse was always written to be. A certain author, wanking it into his typewriter.” Eric, the broader of the pair, rose three fingers in succession. “Dark Elves are bred evil, they worship evil, they die evil. The end. Just because FSG cashed in on some memes and made a splatbook for surface dwelling Dark Elves doesn’t make a whole society of them make any sense in-universe.”
“That is bullshit.” Kevin chuckled, wanting to keep things light. “They’re thinking, feeling beings. They can look around their world and decide shit ain’t right.”
“There’s a goddess -- a Greater Deity! -- making them like they are. Keeping them that way.”
Kevin shook his head. “And only because of said Spider Queen does a society of backstabbing, sadistic maniacs not fall apart. Her will imposed upon all for her kicks. ‘No exceptions’ sounds awfully Lawful for society that’s supposed to be Chaotic. Now there’s a contradiction!” It was for the best that these little conflicts of opinion got resolved between games. Kevin could still remember the dark day a whole sci-fi campaign fell apart because two players absolutely would not stop bitching at each other about how inter-dimensional wormholes work. “Plus, Dark Elves are still elves. They can hear the call of the entire Pantheon. And besides, this isn’t the canon world. It’s our world.” One that the two men took turns running games in. Cumulatively building, with the help of their players, a long and well-loved creation that was uniquely theirs.
“A GM’s job is to make a consistent world,” Eric retorted. Protective of his share of the project. “This just doesn’t wash with the way I was using Dark Elves over in Bleak Haven.” He pointed over to a large painting of the group’s self-made continent of Trelleria. A running project of one of their more artistically gifted members. “Realm history negates pockets of goody-goody Dark Elves just popping up out of nowhere.”
“A GM’s job is to make a world their players want to spend time in,” Kevin reminded his friend. One of the reasons the tall gamer had wanted to create a new world distinct from LSG’s official campaigns was to do just that. In his opinion, LSG’s official campaign world, The Everliving Lands, catered too heavily to Elves at the expense of other playable races. “Dan’s been talking about bringing his girlfriend into the gaming group, yeah? Well, we’ve been talking over the options, and she wants to play a Dark Elf wizard.” He pointed out another section of map. “I can drop a colony of Good ones over in the Jade Mountains. Run a bit of plane-hopping to establish a Cleric from another reality crossing over and gathering followers to the cause of peaceful relations with the surface world.”
A wry grin was the reply. “And I suppose next you’ll be planting a Druid Circle full of hippy-dippy tree-hugging Orcs,” Eric scoffed. “Just because a player wants to try something, that doesn't make it a good idea. Or have you forgotten John’s… Well, half of John’s characters?”
“I let you bring in those cat people from a different system,” Kevin reminded his fellow GM, starting to lose his patience. Just a little.
Eric twisted his lip. “I don’t know. This rubs me wrong.”
“Well, it’s happening.” Much as he respected his friend's commitment to telling a tale that ‘made sense,’ he couldn’t let that stubbornness get in the way of someone else’s good time. “Just look the book over, alright?” Kevin picked up the book, and passed it over. Privately wishing that Eric would see things his way for once.
Eric reluctantly reached for the book. Kevin could practically see a similar wish rolling across his eyes. “Fine. I’ll read it. But I probably won't like-”
A flash of light overwhelmed the young man’s senses. He shielded his eyes, but thought he caught a glimpse of… Was it coming from the book? No, it couldn’t be!
When he was able to see again, nothing was the same.
Around him, there was no longer a cloistered basement sanctuary. Where there should have been short, hatch-patterned carpet, there was a bed of grass. Where there should have been bookcases, movie posters, atlases fictional words, there were trees reaching out in every direction. Where there should have been a few ceiling lights, one of them flickering, there was an evening sky. Purple-pink, with a crescent moon too large to be Earth’s.
Where there should have been four walls, there was now a circle of slender beings.
The one immediately before him was the tallest of the lot. With skin of yellow-gold, and eyes of deepest amber. Her hair, platinum blonde, was long but done up in an elaborate weave around a jeweled diadem. She was dressed in an elegant robe, pale green silk hemmed in shining gold filigree, featuring an almost impossibly low neckline that left little of a very impressive bustline to the imagination. A lifetime of fantasy fandom told him that he was looking at a High Elf. She was looking at him in dead-eyed shock.
Were this curvaceous figure to be considered standing at the Twelve O’clock position from Kevin’s vantage, then at Two stood a Wild Elf. A copperskined male, with indigo eyes. He was covered in dark tattoos; lines of elven text among various esoteric shapes. He was lean, wiry, and half naked. What covering he had seemed to have been scavenged from local flora and fauna, though artfully done and deceptively sturdy. A shortbow was in his hand, one arrow half-knocked.
Next, at Four O’clock, stood a Sea Elf. With skin of teal and armor of shells. Dark blue hair draped long and free, framing sets of gills on both sides of his neck. Dark, almost black, eyes gazed at her with an inscrutable face. His long trident was in fact a double-weapon, for it had a spear’s head on the other end.
Eight O’clock featured a Snow elf. Stocky and muscular. Pale, not quite white, skinned was she. Her grey eyes as cold as the land she must have hailed from. Her fur-lined longcoat covered a full set of plate armor, beautifully inscribed along the edges. A halberd was her weapon of choice, and she held it in a steely grip.
Finally, at Ten O’clock, another archer. This one bore a longbow. A Wood Elf woman with a ruddy reddish tan. Auburn hair in thick braids stood out against a green cloak. One glove was larger and thicker than the other, and covered in light scratches.
All of these elves held their weapons in ready positions. Not poised for violence, but ready to defend.
“This. Is. Impossible.” No sooner had the words left the High Elf’s mouth, did she raise a hand to her mouth. Her eyes went wide upon the sight of its slender, golden digits.
“And yet here we are, my Queen,” said a male voice from behind her. The lead High Elf gasped and turned to face the owner of the voice.
At the same moment, Kevin did the same. Checking who might sneak up on him.
There behind him, he saw several Dark Elves of both sexes fanning out in a triangle pointed at himself. Near-black of skin and with hair of bright white, every one. The women clearly outnumbered the men. They wore dark leather armor, no two sets alike, that protected or exposed varying amounts of skin. Where one would expect to see spider-sigils and web designs embossed on their armor, there were instead moons and rolling lines symbolic light of trailing off from the orbs. Gilded in silver, or some other metal of similar color and shine. Exactly the irregular uniform of the Dark Elf refugees that Kevin had just been describing.
None of these elves were armed. Kevin was suddenly very aware that the two elves closes to him were armed with melee weapons. Impulsively, he patted himself down for weapons. What he felt made no sense at all. Smooth, curving hips. A belly far firmer than could be earned from a lifetime of indulgence in video games and energy drinks. A rounded behind. And… and… boobs! Big boobs! Bound within a boostier of leather scale. His eyes shot downward. Partly to be sure they were real, partly to convince himself this wasn’t happening. They were, and it was.
The pair of them, giggling softly due to the movement of the leather, were nearly black of color. As were the hands cupping the boostier. As were the arms attached to those, and everything else. Below, his -- her -- legs were partly obscured by a leather skirt, and partly exposed, before being taken up by moon-iconed boots.
One of the dark women before him, with short-cropped hair and more armor up top than down below, coughed lightly to acquire his attention. Then looked pointedly at Kevin’s collar. Reaching toward it, he felt a large gemstone nestled just above his cleavage It felt warm to his touch and got warmer as he held his hand there. The jewel looked like a large teardrop, rounded at the bottom, faceted at the pointed tip. It was smoky black and almost opaque, but glowed from within with a fierce red light. It was secured to the wearer’s neck by an onyx chain, and held to the chain by clasps carved (or, as was more likely with the chain, magically molded) of the same stone. Shaped to resemble tarantula fangs.
All at once the man -- the woman! -- the Dark Elfess! -- knew where he was, and what this was. This was the Everliving Lands. The sourcebook he had just been holding held within its pages a story of how its colony of good-hearted Dark Elves came to be accepted by their surface cousins. (As well as sidebars for turning the tale itself into a campaign module). This was that tale. He was living it! As the leader of the peaceful Dark Elf pilgrims!
“Oh, boy…” Kevin muttered under his breath. Aware that while he understood the words he had just spoken, they were not English. There was only one way out of this that Kevin could see. He/she turned back to face the many-colored circle of potential enemies. Including their High Elf member, who herself had only just turned back around to face the gathering.
He/she took a deep breath before opening a full-lipped and purple-painted mouth. Not only to calm him/herself, but to stall a few extra seconds while he/she pulled up the memory of the name he/she was supposed to be speaking under.
“We come unarmed, as I promised we would” he started. Trying to remember as much of the story as he could. Raising the amulet up. “And I hold in my hand a piece of the First Star! The earliest light in the world, created by Shaelnel Habraadrel, Prime God of all our kin and kind. Plucked from the sky when the Spider Queen betrayed their love. A piece of it given to the forbearers of our disparate races.” With a step to the side, the speaker’s free hand waved back. To draw witness to the throng of black bodies behind. “We are your bro - sisters and brothers.
“Whilst I am Tathaudear Tyrrnal. Eighth daughter of T’rissarra, The Blood Queen. Princess of Eherv Rret’mtor. Fifth in line to that city’s grotesque throne. I have renounced my ties to that vile place, and brought all who would follow upward out of the darkness we were born to. Away from the evil and madness that infests my mother’s people. Toward the light of peace, as embodied by the blessed Moon herself.”
‘The Princess’ was panting deeply once the full-throated speech had been delivered. ‘Tath’ couldn’t help smiling, just a little. He/she figured they’d done pretty well, for having only read the speech once. Any half-decent GM had to be good at giving speeches.
With a fluid flourish, the Sea Elf reversed his trident, bringing the spear tit to bear. It was a move no doubt meant to intimidate, and it had that very effect. Several Dark Elves gasped, and a chill went up Kevin’s spine in particular, as he pointed the spear tip just to the side of the chest of the Dark Elf before him. With said spear tip, just barely out of threatening range, he manipulated the amulet which was still held in the grey-black hand. That he might appraise it in his own peculiar way.
If the reality of the situation Kevin found himself in hadn’t hit yet, it did now. For this was very real, very sharp, point shining his way. As real as the heart pounding in his chest. And the cold trickle of sweat snaking down his cheek. The ‘gamer senses’ of the human-turned-elf kicked in, analyzing the situation. The Snow and Sea Elf were within a five-foot movement each of flanking him and ripping him to pieces. Their weapons had reach, meaning they could tear down any Dark Elf who rushed in from behind to save their liege.
Countless heartbeats later, the teal-skinned man spoke. “I have only seen my people’s Fragment but a few times. But it is not a sight I could forget. This strikes me as one of its kind.”
“Any child born of Elvin blood cannot help but know the power of a Fragment,” stated the Wood Elf. “How did you come by it?” she asked Kevin directly. Inhumanly green eyes bored into what had to be red ones. Not that there was a mirror about to confirm that guess.
In reply, he -- ’She, dammit! Stay in character!’ -- dared to move the spear tip to a less lethal direction. Then issued an ultimatum. “There’s a story to tell, there. But I require assurance of my people’s safety while we discuss it.”
The Wild elf sneered. “You dare to make demands? After we have already accommodated this parlay?”
“I dare to make sure that what ‘accommodations’ have already been made will be kept.”
“We stand honorbound to see that they do,” The even-faced Snow Elf woman was impossible to read. Had she expressed her comment out of support for maintaining a fragile peace? Or from offense at her honor being questioned?
The High Elf, who had spent the interchange looking furtively its various participants took a step forward. And declared with an almost theatrically haughty voice, “Bring this one to my Summer Palace. We shall hear her tale at dinner.”
The High Elf turned then and walked away. Her every step revealing slits in her robe which allowed long, long looks up her legs. A critical aspect of FSG’s version of High Elves was that they believed themselves the very pinnacle of physical beauty. Their clothes were designed to draw attention to their bodies, not smother them under extravagance. But that wasn’t exactly important right now.
The male who had spoken up behind her before, likely a second or bodyguard, followed in her wake. The pair had just disappeared behind the treeline when the Queen called out, “The Princess may bring a retinue of six! The rest escort back to their camp! That they may tell the others the parlay is ongoing!”
Six Elves, Wood and Wild of kind, appeared from the trees as if they’d walked in from behind a veil of invisibility. Utterly unseen within their native trees before they chose to be seen. Taking the cue, ‘Tath’ pointed to six of her own followers. Each was taken up by one of the new elves, who acted as escorts. Leading their charges through the Queen’s wake. The rest moved towards the remaining Dark Elves, and with them walked back and deeper into the green.
The message sent by having such a cadre of escorts back to the Dark Elf camp was clear; if anyone there tried anything funny, they’d never see the weapon that ended their mischief.
The Princess’ own escorts were the remaining four members of the Circle, who moved to circle her. Keeping themselves at even positions, diagonally ahead of and behind her. They kept to her pace, and their silence left a firm and no doubt deliberate impression of its own; Kevin felt as much a prisoner as a guest.
. . .
The last light of sunset was retreating behind a distant mountain range. The Summer Palace rose majestically ahead of it, from the center of a large lake whose waters were still and reflective as a mirror. The Palace was tall and austere as a High Elf, build onto and through a conic hilltop. An organic collection of spires, statues, arches, and tall bridges. Music emanated from it loud enough to be heard from the shore.
Tath (née Kevin) had not yet fully adjusted to this body’s keen low-light vision. It took a moment of fierce concentration to notice that what might have been shadows cast by the palace’s many parts were in face holes bored within it. She realized with a smile that the whole complex was built as a giant instrument. Playing the wind.
There were a great many ships in the lake between it and them. Some of which, long and thin and gilded, were on their way to meet the motley collection of Elves. Their shimmering sails billowing with wind that did not reach the technicolor collection of elves which had come from the clearing. As far as she could see in either direction here was no pier.
The Queen had recovered from whatever loss of composure had taken hold of her in the circle. Here, she walked tall and proud as her seasonal home. At her signal, she and her gold-skinned retinue walked out to meet the first ship. The rest were made to wait. Right onto the surface of the lake, their steps lit in pale green upon the water itself. High and dry, they trod right onto the starboard side of the ships itself. Where a platform waited for them, leading to an ivy-wreathed stair that would bring them to the main deck.
A smaller elf, possibly a child or young teenager, stood before the wheel. The instant the Queen’s foot hit the deck, he spoke loud and clear, “Announcing her royal majesty, Shahernei Azemenne! Queen of The High Elves! Protector of the Realm! Keeper of the Golden Fragment! Wise as the heavens! Lustrous as the dawn!” The music coming from the Palace took on a lyrical aspect. A choir or some such.
Tath rolled her eyes. High Elves liked their pomp and circumstance, but come on! The Dark Elves that had travelled with her were stone silent. Several of them shifted their weight uneasily. They were well used to seeing high-ranking women make shows of their power. Quite often those displays turned lethal. Or worse.
“This won’t be like back in the down below,” she assured them quietly. Calmly. And having slipped into another language. This one similar to the lyrical Elvish words she’d been speaking, but harsher and layered in glottal stops. But still, there was an uneasiness behind her red-on-red eyes. For she’d spent the walk wracking her memory for all she could of the module she’d handed to Eric as Kevin. This Summer Palace wasn’t part of that, so it had gone at least a little off the rails. But all the characters were here. And that meant that Shahernei Azemenne, Queen of The High Elves, was in a great deal of trouble.
If the story played out as he had read it, she had less than a day to live
. . .
Kevin’s first chance to be alone with his own thoughts came when he was delivered into a private bedroom to bathe and dress for dinner. The potential outfits laying out on his double-wide canopy bed were at least as revealing as the one the High Elf Queen herself had been set up in when they ‘met.’ If one could truly meet a fictional being.
Dark Elves dressed skimpily as a display of power. Bare skin was a declaration that they were untouchable. Invincible. Kevin felt like none of those things. He was a stranger in a strange land. A strange body. A body that had been sneered at plenty of times in the walk from Summer Palace pier to his current residence within it.
Kevin Lanchester, Tathaudear Tyrrnal, whoever, still in their leather skirted armor, sat at the edge of the bed. Hands on their knees, looking down at the floor from across a pair of black sweater melons. Feeling terrified for the small group of ‘followers’ that had followed him into the maw. And for themself: should this world prove as real as it felt, “Living here might just kill me.”
It was in the midst of this reverie that keen Elvin ears picked up a screaming sound to the left. His eyes darted that way, to see a section of wall, covered in a majestic painting of a charging stallion, begin to rotate.
Suddenly afraid for his life in a land filled with people who hated his guts Kevin rose to his feet. Taking up a combat-ready stance by instinct, standing at an angle to the door, one foot in from of the other to minimize his profile. Knees bent, arms arched for palm-strikes. Surprised at himself, realized that he somehow knew a form of Unarmed Combat at least as well as he knew two alien languages. Most likely Stinging Spider style, but best not to dwell on particulars in this moment.
While the Dark Elf asked himself while had roll the better Initiative, out of the wall crept a single gilded foot. Followed by the rest of…. Queen Shahernei?!
“Should you really be here?” Asked Kevin, now sliding back into character as Tath. Meaning, first and foremost, that he wasn’t going to step out of combat until she was given good reason.
“Does a Felaarin shit in the woods?” the Queen asked in reply. One eyebrow raised tentatively. Hopefully.
“Felaarin?” Tath asked roughly. Only for her hard stare to become a wide smile as the scales fell from her eyes. Felaarin were the cat-people imported into his RGP group’s game world from a superhero campaign that used to be run by… “Eric?”
“Kevin?” Even having heard their True Name spoken aloud, the golden woman still had a wash of skepticism on her perfect face.
“How did you work out it was me?”
“Feeling yourself up to check you were a lady was a pretty big clue,” Eric snerked. “Sorry I took so long to get you alone, but I was trying not to be obvious.”
Kevin’s girlish lips wrinkled up almost to a scowl, but with a sigh he twisted them instead and tilted his head in acknowledgment. It was a big clue. And one he was lucky the ‘locals’ had missed. He’d have to be more careful in the future, if he -- if they -- were to find a way back home. Likely, they'd need to find a way out of the Palace first. “How did you know about that secret door?” he asked, pointing.
“The LSG website posted a bunch of unpublished GameLog articles, after the magazine got cancelled.” Eric threw up his royal head and spoke briefly with haughty airs. “Her Majesty's Seasonal Homes was one of them.” Resuming his Earth-bound posture and patter, he trailed off on a geeky tangent. From the maps I found in my rooms, they’re all here. And that’s not all! Everythingis here. The Towering Forest, the Broken Mountain, the--”
“Enough, enough,” Kevin killed the list with a wave of his hand. The question of whether or not this ‘world’ was full of every published First Star product, or just the ones Kevin and Eric were personally familiar with could be tabled for later. “Outside the Palace doesn't matter right now. You’re in danger right here.”
“Whaddaymean me?” Erick smirked. “Pack of Dark Elves wanders into High Elf territory, I think they’re the ones in trouble. And, well…” He motioned back and forth between the two of them.
“Yeah, but you’re the one that’s going to be assassinated.”
That wiped the smile of Her Majesty’s face! Kevin siezed upon the gap-mouthed silence that followed to serve up a soupcon of infodump. “The situation as I know it is this. The other four elves from the circle are not royalty. They’re representatives of their respective realms, speaking with the voice of their crowns. You are a crown, because this is your land we -- the Dark Elf pilgrims -- popped in on.”
“Yeah, I got that,” Eric stated. “I just wriggled out of a sit-down with the four Voices. That’s what they’re calling themselves. Weird that there’s no one in this story from the Desert Tribes. They’re my favorite Elves,” he added with a sigh.
Kevin waved them away. “Probably cut out to streamline the plot. In the splatbook tale, two of the Voices are firmly against letting my group stay. Two of them are firmly against it. Yours the tie-breaking vote.” He looked to his friend for confirmation. “That how things shook out at your talk?”
“Yep.” the High Elf nodded. “Snow feels honor bound to give you as go so long as you don’t screw us. Wood thinks the trees are here for everyone, and that includes you. She just wouldn’t dare say it in front of you. Wild and Sea would love to see you gutted and served for dinner. I’m hoping they were joking about that.”
Tath swallowed. “Wonderful. And it gets better. At least some of my retinue is double-agents working for her highness The Blood Queen to undermine any chance at peace --”
“Ha!” Eric pointed vigorously. “Ha! I told you Dark Elves can’t ever be trusted --”
“ -- but they’re not the ones who are going to kill you.”
“Haahaa.. Huh?”
Kevin led his friend over to the bed to sit down. “If events are matching the splatbook, one of the Voices is working with the evil Dark Elves,” Kevin continued, “Communicating with the double-agents somehow. They’re going to knife you after dinner and frame my contingent. The two yes-votes will switch sides and they’ll all declare war on us. Er, me and the other Dark Elves.”
“I don’t care about the politics of who’s going to kill me,” Eric seethed, shoulders tensing. “I care about who is going to kill me… And obviously you, too! So spill, already.”
Kevin shrugged his shoulders. “I… don’t remember.” His chest shrugged a moment later.
“What?” Eric’s orange eyes went wide with shock. He started pacing about the room. Long, lovely legs once more showing themselves off. “How can you now remember that! It’s a really important part!”
Kevin frantically motioned for Eric to keep it down. Then pointed to his (her) long ears, then the door. “I only read the thing once,” he confessed. “And I was reading it with a thought toward how I’d have to change the text to fit in our ‘verse. What I can tell you it’s not the Wood Elf. That was the switch-up I was going to make up for our game. Her falcon was going to be -- is going to be? -- one of the trickster gods. Screwing with Elves for shits and giggles.”
Grasping for a way out of all this, the victim-to-be grasped onto Kevin’s lack of familiarity with the Palace. “I could have sent the story off the rails when I moved the action here, right?”
Kevin nodded. “Well, the Queen was supposed to have set up tents in the forest. Where a group of PCs could walk in on events and play them out.” Then shook his head, uncertain. “I don’t know. The assassin uses a Dark Elf dagger for the frameup.” Most likely one of those daggers with too many curves. Perfect for causing a wound to keep bleeding, so the in-game lore said. He wasn’t an RL expert on weapons. “That’s it!”
When Kevin leapt forward, a sly smile on his face, Eric reacted with an “Aaaahhhh!” of surprise.
The Dark Elfess began pacing, the gears of metagaming grinding in his head. “My lot came unarmed to the parlay. But suppose one could have been be smuggling a weapon-”
“More than one,” Eric interrupted. “They are Dark Elves, after all.”
“That’s racist,” Kevin frowned.
Eric moved his fists to his hips. “Check yourself for a hidden weapon. Go on.”
Kevin shook his head in exasperation. “My character would never have done anything so reckless as to -” There were two thing throwing knives secured behind some of his skirt flaps. “Shut it!” Kevin hissed. “The point is, we can stop this assassination and catch the guilty parties if we can catch them in the act of transferring the weapon.”
Eric’s hands moved to his bountiful hips. “And how, pray tell, can we do that?”
Kevin leaned against a bedpost and pondered the question for a moment before an answer came. “We speak Elvin, and I’m pretty sure I know hand-to-hand here. I’m guessing we can cast magical spells.”
The Queen raised an eyebrow, then started waving his arms about. Randomly at first, but as he went on, the movements became more rhythmic and focused. Until at last, his petite palms lit up with bright white light. Light reflected in the giddy smile he gave his friend.
Inspired by that triumph, Kevin attempted his own spell. As he fumbled through the somatic motions, the proper words came to mind for the effect he was reaching for. Upon speaking them aloud, in the harsh Dark Elf tongue. When his vision degraded into a hazy monochrome, he knew that he’d faded from his friend’s sight. With an invisible mouth, he whispered, “Let’s get to work.”
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Species Elf
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