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The Rise of the Raccoon Queen
Or The Big Grey Fluffy Butt Matter
A Story of Faerie
© 2020 by M. Mitchell Marmel
(Additional characters by E.O. Costello and W.D. Reimer.)
Thumbnail art by
tegerio, color by 
marmelmm
Part Thirty-two.
Winterbough:
Very silently, I thanked Fuma that Sergeant Sage was only drinking beer. Eastness apparently didn’t have anything like the Gray Horde’s aqua vitae, or she hadn’t discovered it yet. I had no idea what she and Ooo-er had talked about (if they did), but she was clearly deep into drowning her sorrows. I took a seat a little apart from her.
In case I got splashed.
[Note appended to manuscript: “Oh, har de har har.”]
I ordered another round of pretzels and listened closely while Sage drank more beer and Dinar filled me in on what had happened. “Sweet and fluffy, eh?” I asked. “Congratulations, Mr. Dinar.”
“Eh?”
“You’ve met a Pie-Fight Valkyrie. And lived. They obviously wanted to get you to talk before making you vanish.” I gave him a grin. “And you’ve also met the Klowns, so you have an idea what we’re up against.”
“A bunch of gekkering twits?”
“Got it in one.” I took another swallow of my porter, noting that the wolfess was fast approaching one score of empty tankards.
Good porter. “But this is odd, even for them. This is the third time I’ve seen them try to undermine another government. The first two times, they tried to marry the realm’s ruler,” I amplified, “so this is sort of outside what they usually do. What do you know about this guy Byrde?”
The giraffe shrugged. “Soren Byrde. Red-tailed hawk, hails from Clabberstock, away up in the mountains to the south-by-widdershins. Apart from the speeches he’s done and the leaflets that get passed around, we know what his positions are, but not much else.” He nibbled at a pretzel. “Still, Elves Don’t Lie, so a lot of people are happy to overlook his feathers.”
“Avians still unpopular?”
That earned me a slow, hard look. “Alastair was the sixty-sixth of his line. That’s a long Darkness-damned time to suffer, Winterbough, and if it hadn’t been for the Wolf Queen – “ He swiveled his ears as the Sergeant snorted in her nineteenth beer “ – if it hadn’t been for her, the Light only knows how we would have turned out.”
By the time we finished talking and drinking and eating and talking and drinking some more, Dinar was yawning and Missy was listing badly. I’d had maybe a quarter of the beer she’d guzzled, and she wasn’t talking apart from making her lips move like she was having a silent conversation (not Elf-mind) with someone only she could see. We parted company, the giraffe to his apartment and me to try to get a slightly inebriated wolfess back to DelFurrio’s.
It was actually easier than I feared. I didn’t have to carry her, just provide a shoulder so she could steady herself, and we managed to get to the back entrance of the shop.
She would point, and I’d help her move in that direction, until we got to a room that had her scent (and only hers) in it. I sat her down on the bed and removed her boots before bundling her under the blankets. Getting the boots off a sleepy fur was a trick I’d mastered as a soldier-servant to Captain Jasper Chitterleigh, Fuma keep him in Her Embrace, but I didn’t even attempt to get her clothes off.
I started to tip-hoof out of the room when I paused, hearing a soft, choked sound that I knew was a sob.
Oh, sweet Fuma . . .
She gave a little start as I got onto the bed. Note, please: I did not remove my clothes, nor did I get under the blanket with her.
“Wha - ?”
“Shh. You need a friend, wolfess,” and I slipped an arm around her. She struggled only a little, and subsided as I started stroking her ears. There was a brief moment where she started sobbing again, but she finally sank into a deep sleep.
I only prayed I could sleep lightly enough to wake up and get out of the room before she sobered up and figured out what had happened.
Or jump to certain conclusions.
***
Tali:
I thought I saw Corporal Winterbough slip out of Missy’s quarters early in the morning, but I figured that it was their business, not mine. It may come as a surprise to some people familiar with my career and occasional extracurricular activities, but I do know how to be discreet.
Stop looking at me like that.
Anyway, we were having breakfast the next day. The Raccoon Queen and Ooo-er had not come back last night, but Tessie had left a message with Dorotea that they were staying at an inn down by the riverside. Ooo-er, she explained, wanted to be able to swim.
She could have asked. There might actually be a pool in here somewhere. I do know that there’s a hot tub, but that’s reserved for me and Matt, thank you.
The Corporal was eating breakfast when Matt and I came in. From the way he sometimes hugged his mug of tea like it was a lifeline, I guessed that he had a touch of morning head. “Good morning, Master,” I said quietly. “You haven’t seen Fred anywhere, have you?”
The roebuck paused, ears swiveling. “He left sometime during the post-ball match. Michael said that he sometimes goes off on his own.” He regarded the steaming-hot roast corn muffins on his plate before tearing one open and slathering them with butter. “I hope he didn’t try anything.”
Matt sipped his coffee and shrugged. “He’ll turn up eventually. Known him for years. Now Michael – he went completely dark one day – no messages, no communications of any sort – and there was a concerted search mounted to find him.” My honey bear laughed quietly. “When we finally did find him, he was angry that we’d been looking for him. The Corps seems to attract people like that.”
“Lies! All lies, I tell you!” and Winterbough’s ears flattened as the mink stood framed in the doorway after shouting his declaration. After holding his dramatic pose for a couple beats, Michael went to get a cup of tea and some breakfast. He sat down with a plate of smoked fish, scrambled eggs and hash browns. “I was meditating.”
“Yes, you’re always one for pondering the whichnesses of the why,” Matt said, grinning as the mink gave him the traditional Two-Finger Salute. We all looked up as the door opened and Fred eased in with a shifty look on his face.
Koschei’s mustache, here we go. “Fred, where have you been?” I asked.
He waggled his eyebrows at me. “I know where to get it, if you want it.” He got a mug of tea and sat beside Winterbough.
The canine slipped a paw into his jumpsuit and leaned toward the roebuck. “Psst. Hey, Meester?” When the Master turned toward him, Fred eased his paw out to show that he had a variety of pasteboard cards. “You buy feeeeeelthy postcards of Wolf Queen?” He leered. “Verrrry furry, verrrry saucy.”
Winterbough and Michael both craned closer and damned near asked in unison, “How much?” with Michael following up with, “Is there a set?”
Obligingly, Fred placed the cards on the table and fanned them across. Hm, very nice.
The Master gave a soft snort. “She doesn’t have much of a set.”
“Perfectly proportioned posterior, though,” Michael said, studying one card with the air of a connoisseur. “I would imagine that there are relatively few accurate naked depictions of the Wolf Queen.”
[Note appended to manuscript: “Thank Fuma for that.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “TOO DAMN MANY!”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Are you seeing ME complain, wolfess?”]
I propped my head on my paw. “Fred.”
“Ma’am.”
“Where were you yesterday and last night?”
The dog took a drink of his tea. “I thought that some inside information might be good to have, so I went to that boarding house where Byrde and the foxes are holed up.”
“Mrs. Miggins’?” the roebuck asked.
Fred nodded. “No vacancies, which is a shame, so I just picked a shady corner to watch what was going on. I saw Byrde walk out around suppertime, unescorted.”
“How close did you tail him?” Matt asked.
“About half a block. He never tumbled to me,” Fred said, a little too confidently for my taste. “He was talking to himself.”
“Talking to himself?” I asked.
Fred nodded. “Tried to get close enough to hear him without giving myself away, but what I could catch was completely unintelligible.”
Michael chuckled. “If that’s suspect, you need to put yourself in custody. You walk around talking unintelligibly to yourself all the time.”
Fred raised a finger and opened his mouth as if he was about to say something wounding, but abruptly closed his muzzle, ears going straight back as the finger and paw returned to the table. Maybe a second later he turned to me. “Commander, I’ve had an idea.”
“Be nice to it,” Michael said sarcastically. “It’s in a very lonely place.” Fred ignored him.
I took note of that. “What?” I asked warily.
“I need to get something from Stores,” he said as he stood up, “and I’ll be back by lunchtime. Okay?”
‘Something from Stores’ could cover anything from socks to the Musashi (although Low-chan would strenuously object). “How big?” I asked, and he held his thumb and forefinger about two centimeters apart. “Okay.”
Fred grinned, stood up, and patted Michael on the head, deliberately tousling the mink’s headfur. He left while Michael was still sputtering. Matt just looked amused by the goings-on.
I decided to get a headache remedy after all the eye-rolling I’d been doing.
***
Missy:
That infuriating roebuck thought I was so sozzled that I wouldn’t notice him getting into bed with me. But Elves Don’t Lie – much as I hate to admit it, I needed a friend, and one that wouldn’t anger Ooo-er any further than she already was.
And I did have a good night’s sleep.
Until I opened my eyes.
Opening my eyes was a signal for the several dozen blacksmiths in my head to start trying to craft a life-sized statue in silver-steel titled Hangover in my skull (despite my skull being too small to house it). I’m sure it was going to be a work of art, but it would have been nice if they were quieter.
I took my time bathing and got into clean clothes. Maybe, if Fuma decided that the Raccoon Queen was a better fit for the Regalia than me, maybe I could talk Tali into joining this ‘Temporal Corps’ of hers. Some of the things she hinted at were certainly intriguing, and Dorotea and Lisbet managed to get hired despite their lack of skills.
And I certainly looked good in the uniform.
When I went to get breakfast, I saw the Master sitting there. “Good morning, Corporal.”
“Morning, Sergeant,” he said. “Need a hangover cantrip?” he asked in Elf-mind.
“I think you know the answer to that,” I responded, managing to not wince visibly at how much it hurt. I sat down, and he placed his paws on my head. I felt the blacksmiths fall silent, and the angry frogs in my stomach quieted down. I glanced at the Master, and placed a paw between his antlers.
One good turn deserves another, and he had finally got around to teaching me that cantrip. It’s very effective, and quite good to have around. After that, we both tucked into breakfast with a little more enthusiasm.
At a certain point (when my mouth was full), he asked, “What’s the plan for today, Sergeant?”
I kept him waiting until I swallowed and had a sip of tea. Unlike some of the bucks in the Vale, I do have manners. “I suppose you want to go watch another post-ball match.”
The buck shook his head. “Much as I’d like to, no. We have someone to watch, just in case Dinar’s escape from them has made them advance their plans.” He rolled his eyes; despite the cantrip, it almost made me queasy. “And we should keep an eye out for Tessie – “
“The Raccoon Queen,” and somehow I managed not to snarl.
The Master gave me a look, and his Elf-mind clamped down tight. “With your permission, Sergeant, I’d like to show you something.” He started to stand up, and paused when I glared at him. “What?”
“You’re not going to drop your pants, are you?”
He blinked, ears swiveling, and shook his head. “No, but I was going to go wash up after breakfast.”
I nodded and waved a paw. “Carry on,” I said, in a tone of voice that I’d heard from an officer in the Imperial and Royal Army. I suppressed the smile until after he’d left the room. Tali didn’t bother smiling; she just went straight to giggling while her mate rolled his eyes and left.
I drank the last of my tea and started to get up when Tali said, “Missy?”
“Hm?”
“Do you have any weapons on you?” my feline friend asked.
I almost reached into my Elfintory before I remembered that I no longer had Sun-and-Moon or Comet. “Anything you have in mind?” I asked.
Tali gave a little toss of her headfur and grinned. “Come with me, before Winterbough comes back.”
She led me down a hall, then through a door that led down another hall to a door that required her to place her paw on the wall. The door opened and she led me inside.
I’ve heard the phrase “child in a sweet shop” before, but this is the first time I ever experienced the feeling. The walls were festooned with weapons or every description, with more on shelves extending into the distance. Most of them, maybe ninety percent, were completely unrecognizable to me but they were all black and had spiky bits here and there. The ones closest to the door were easy to figure out; swords, knives and clubs seem to be universal.
Tali plucked one off the wall and offered it to me. It was a rod of some black material, possibly metal, about the length of my arm. “A short-staff?" I asked.
She started to shake her head no, but paused. “It’s actually a Mark 8 stun baton, but yeah, it can be used like a short-staff or a club. But it has a little something extra. See these?” She pointed to two small metal spikes at the far end of the staff, and then at a button that was molded to look like part of the short-staff’s handle. "Hold it here, and touch this - stay away from this end when you do." I did as she directed, and gave a little start when lightning arced between the two spikes.
I remembered what Ooo-er had done to me, and I swallowed. “This – this won’t kill, will it?”
“No,” came the flat reply. “It’s designed to be non-lethal.”
I think I started to grin as I put the baton into my Elfintory. “The Corporal said that he wanted to show me something. I think I shall wait for him out in the alley. Can you show me the way?”
Tali smiled. “Sure. That door.”
“That door leads into the hallway we used to get to this room.”
The feline just smiled. I hate when people get cryptic, so I walked out the door –
And found myself in the alley, the door closing and locking behind me.
“Seriously.” What these people did with ‘technology’ rivaled the best magic-users I’ve seen so far.
“’Seriously’ what?” the roebuck asked, stepping out the same door into the alleyway.
I shook my head. “Nothing. Let’s go.”
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Or The Big Grey Fluffy Butt Matter
A Story of Faerie
© 2020 by M. Mitchell Marmel
(Additional characters by E.O. Costello and W.D. Reimer.)
Thumbnail art by
tegerio, color by 
marmelmmPart Thirty-two.
Winterbough:
Very silently, I thanked Fuma that Sergeant Sage was only drinking beer. Eastness apparently didn’t have anything like the Gray Horde’s aqua vitae, or she hadn’t discovered it yet. I had no idea what she and Ooo-er had talked about (if they did), but she was clearly deep into drowning her sorrows. I took a seat a little apart from her.
In case I got splashed.
[Note appended to manuscript: “Oh, har de har har.”]
I ordered another round of pretzels and listened closely while Sage drank more beer and Dinar filled me in on what had happened. “Sweet and fluffy, eh?” I asked. “Congratulations, Mr. Dinar.”
“Eh?”
“You’ve met a Pie-Fight Valkyrie. And lived. They obviously wanted to get you to talk before making you vanish.” I gave him a grin. “And you’ve also met the Klowns, so you have an idea what we’re up against.”
“A bunch of gekkering twits?”
“Got it in one.” I took another swallow of my porter, noting that the wolfess was fast approaching one score of empty tankards.
Good porter. “But this is odd, even for them. This is the third time I’ve seen them try to undermine another government. The first two times, they tried to marry the realm’s ruler,” I amplified, “so this is sort of outside what they usually do. What do you know about this guy Byrde?”
The giraffe shrugged. “Soren Byrde. Red-tailed hawk, hails from Clabberstock, away up in the mountains to the south-by-widdershins. Apart from the speeches he’s done and the leaflets that get passed around, we know what his positions are, but not much else.” He nibbled at a pretzel. “Still, Elves Don’t Lie, so a lot of people are happy to overlook his feathers.”
“Avians still unpopular?”
That earned me a slow, hard look. “Alastair was the sixty-sixth of his line. That’s a long Darkness-damned time to suffer, Winterbough, and if it hadn’t been for the Wolf Queen – “ He swiveled his ears as the Sergeant snorted in her nineteenth beer “ – if it hadn’t been for her, the Light only knows how we would have turned out.”
By the time we finished talking and drinking and eating and talking and drinking some more, Dinar was yawning and Missy was listing badly. I’d had maybe a quarter of the beer she’d guzzled, and she wasn’t talking apart from making her lips move like she was having a silent conversation (not Elf-mind) with someone only she could see. We parted company, the giraffe to his apartment and me to try to get a slightly inebriated wolfess back to DelFurrio’s.
It was actually easier than I feared. I didn’t have to carry her, just provide a shoulder so she could steady herself, and we managed to get to the back entrance of the shop.
She would point, and I’d help her move in that direction, until we got to a room that had her scent (and only hers) in it. I sat her down on the bed and removed her boots before bundling her under the blankets. Getting the boots off a sleepy fur was a trick I’d mastered as a soldier-servant to Captain Jasper Chitterleigh, Fuma keep him in Her Embrace, but I didn’t even attempt to get her clothes off.
I started to tip-hoof out of the room when I paused, hearing a soft, choked sound that I knew was a sob.
Oh, sweet Fuma . . .
She gave a little start as I got onto the bed. Note, please: I did not remove my clothes, nor did I get under the blanket with her.
“Wha - ?”
“Shh. You need a friend, wolfess,” and I slipped an arm around her. She struggled only a little, and subsided as I started stroking her ears. There was a brief moment where she started sobbing again, but she finally sank into a deep sleep.
I only prayed I could sleep lightly enough to wake up and get out of the room before she sobered up and figured out what had happened.
Or jump to certain conclusions.
***
Tali:
I thought I saw Corporal Winterbough slip out of Missy’s quarters early in the morning, but I figured that it was their business, not mine. It may come as a surprise to some people familiar with my career and occasional extracurricular activities, but I do know how to be discreet.
Stop looking at me like that.
Anyway, we were having breakfast the next day. The Raccoon Queen and Ooo-er had not come back last night, but Tessie had left a message with Dorotea that they were staying at an inn down by the riverside. Ooo-er, she explained, wanted to be able to swim.
She could have asked. There might actually be a pool in here somewhere. I do know that there’s a hot tub, but that’s reserved for me and Matt, thank you.
The Corporal was eating breakfast when Matt and I came in. From the way he sometimes hugged his mug of tea like it was a lifeline, I guessed that he had a touch of morning head. “Good morning, Master,” I said quietly. “You haven’t seen Fred anywhere, have you?”
The roebuck paused, ears swiveling. “He left sometime during the post-ball match. Michael said that he sometimes goes off on his own.” He regarded the steaming-hot roast corn muffins on his plate before tearing one open and slathering them with butter. “I hope he didn’t try anything.”
Matt sipped his coffee and shrugged. “He’ll turn up eventually. Known him for years. Now Michael – he went completely dark one day – no messages, no communications of any sort – and there was a concerted search mounted to find him.” My honey bear laughed quietly. “When we finally did find him, he was angry that we’d been looking for him. The Corps seems to attract people like that.”
“Lies! All lies, I tell you!” and Winterbough’s ears flattened as the mink stood framed in the doorway after shouting his declaration. After holding his dramatic pose for a couple beats, Michael went to get a cup of tea and some breakfast. He sat down with a plate of smoked fish, scrambled eggs and hash browns. “I was meditating.”
“Yes, you’re always one for pondering the whichnesses of the why,” Matt said, grinning as the mink gave him the traditional Two-Finger Salute. We all looked up as the door opened and Fred eased in with a shifty look on his face.
Koschei’s mustache, here we go. “Fred, where have you been?” I asked.
He waggled his eyebrows at me. “I know where to get it, if you want it.” He got a mug of tea and sat beside Winterbough.
The canine slipped a paw into his jumpsuit and leaned toward the roebuck. “Psst. Hey, Meester?” When the Master turned toward him, Fred eased his paw out to show that he had a variety of pasteboard cards. “You buy feeeeeelthy postcards of Wolf Queen?” He leered. “Verrrry furry, verrrry saucy.”
Winterbough and Michael both craned closer and damned near asked in unison, “How much?” with Michael following up with, “Is there a set?”
Obligingly, Fred placed the cards on the table and fanned them across. Hm, very nice.
The Master gave a soft snort. “She doesn’t have much of a set.”
“Perfectly proportioned posterior, though,” Michael said, studying one card with the air of a connoisseur. “I would imagine that there are relatively few accurate naked depictions of the Wolf Queen.”
[Note appended to manuscript: “Thank Fuma for that.”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “TOO DAMN MANY!”]
[Note appended to manuscript: “Are you seeing ME complain, wolfess?”]
I propped my head on my paw. “Fred.”
“Ma’am.”
“Where were you yesterday and last night?”
The dog took a drink of his tea. “I thought that some inside information might be good to have, so I went to that boarding house where Byrde and the foxes are holed up.”
“Mrs. Miggins’?” the roebuck asked.
Fred nodded. “No vacancies, which is a shame, so I just picked a shady corner to watch what was going on. I saw Byrde walk out around suppertime, unescorted.”
“How close did you tail him?” Matt asked.
“About half a block. He never tumbled to me,” Fred said, a little too confidently for my taste. “He was talking to himself.”
“Talking to himself?” I asked.
Fred nodded. “Tried to get close enough to hear him without giving myself away, but what I could catch was completely unintelligible.”
Michael chuckled. “If that’s suspect, you need to put yourself in custody. You walk around talking unintelligibly to yourself all the time.”
Fred raised a finger and opened his mouth as if he was about to say something wounding, but abruptly closed his muzzle, ears going straight back as the finger and paw returned to the table. Maybe a second later he turned to me. “Commander, I’ve had an idea.”
“Be nice to it,” Michael said sarcastically. “It’s in a very lonely place.” Fred ignored him.
I took note of that. “What?” I asked warily.
“I need to get something from Stores,” he said as he stood up, “and I’ll be back by lunchtime. Okay?”
‘Something from Stores’ could cover anything from socks to the Musashi (although Low-chan would strenuously object). “How big?” I asked, and he held his thumb and forefinger about two centimeters apart. “Okay.”
Fred grinned, stood up, and patted Michael on the head, deliberately tousling the mink’s headfur. He left while Michael was still sputtering. Matt just looked amused by the goings-on.
I decided to get a headache remedy after all the eye-rolling I’d been doing.
***
Missy:
That infuriating roebuck thought I was so sozzled that I wouldn’t notice him getting into bed with me. But Elves Don’t Lie – much as I hate to admit it, I needed a friend, and one that wouldn’t anger Ooo-er any further than she already was.
And I did have a good night’s sleep.
Until I opened my eyes.
Opening my eyes was a signal for the several dozen blacksmiths in my head to start trying to craft a life-sized statue in silver-steel titled Hangover in my skull (despite my skull being too small to house it). I’m sure it was going to be a work of art, but it would have been nice if they were quieter.
I took my time bathing and got into clean clothes. Maybe, if Fuma decided that the Raccoon Queen was a better fit for the Regalia than me, maybe I could talk Tali into joining this ‘Temporal Corps’ of hers. Some of the things she hinted at were certainly intriguing, and Dorotea and Lisbet managed to get hired despite their lack of skills.
And I certainly looked good in the uniform.
When I went to get breakfast, I saw the Master sitting there. “Good morning, Corporal.”
“Morning, Sergeant,” he said. “Need a hangover cantrip?” he asked in Elf-mind.
“I think you know the answer to that,” I responded, managing to not wince visibly at how much it hurt. I sat down, and he placed his paws on my head. I felt the blacksmiths fall silent, and the angry frogs in my stomach quieted down. I glanced at the Master, and placed a paw between his antlers.
One good turn deserves another, and he had finally got around to teaching me that cantrip. It’s very effective, and quite good to have around. After that, we both tucked into breakfast with a little more enthusiasm.
At a certain point (when my mouth was full), he asked, “What’s the plan for today, Sergeant?”
I kept him waiting until I swallowed and had a sip of tea. Unlike some of the bucks in the Vale, I do have manners. “I suppose you want to go watch another post-ball match.”
The buck shook his head. “Much as I’d like to, no. We have someone to watch, just in case Dinar’s escape from them has made them advance their plans.” He rolled his eyes; despite the cantrip, it almost made me queasy. “And we should keep an eye out for Tessie – “
“The Raccoon Queen,” and somehow I managed not to snarl.
The Master gave me a look, and his Elf-mind clamped down tight. “With your permission, Sergeant, I’d like to show you something.” He started to stand up, and paused when I glared at him. “What?”
“You’re not going to drop your pants, are you?”
He blinked, ears swiveling, and shook his head. “No, but I was going to go wash up after breakfast.”
I nodded and waved a paw. “Carry on,” I said, in a tone of voice that I’d heard from an officer in the Imperial and Royal Army. I suppressed the smile until after he’d left the room. Tali didn’t bother smiling; she just went straight to giggling while her mate rolled his eyes and left.
I drank the last of my tea and started to get up when Tali said, “Missy?”
“Hm?”
“Do you have any weapons on you?” my feline friend asked.
I almost reached into my Elfintory before I remembered that I no longer had Sun-and-Moon or Comet. “Anything you have in mind?” I asked.
Tali gave a little toss of her headfur and grinned. “Come with me, before Winterbough comes back.”
She led me down a hall, then through a door that led down another hall to a door that required her to place her paw on the wall. The door opened and she led me inside.
I’ve heard the phrase “child in a sweet shop” before, but this is the first time I ever experienced the feeling. The walls were festooned with weapons or every description, with more on shelves extending into the distance. Most of them, maybe ninety percent, were completely unrecognizable to me but they were all black and had spiky bits here and there. The ones closest to the door were easy to figure out; swords, knives and clubs seem to be universal.
Tali plucked one off the wall and offered it to me. It was a rod of some black material, possibly metal, about the length of my arm. “A short-staff?" I asked.
She started to shake her head no, but paused. “It’s actually a Mark 8 stun baton, but yeah, it can be used like a short-staff or a club. But it has a little something extra. See these?” She pointed to two small metal spikes at the far end of the staff, and then at a button that was molded to look like part of the short-staff’s handle. "Hold it here, and touch this - stay away from this end when you do." I did as she directed, and gave a little start when lightning arced between the two spikes.
I remembered what Ooo-er had done to me, and I swallowed. “This – this won’t kill, will it?”
“No,” came the flat reply. “It’s designed to be non-lethal.”
I think I started to grin as I put the baton into my Elfintory. “The Corporal said that he wanted to show me something. I think I shall wait for him out in the alley. Can you show me the way?”
Tali smiled. “Sure. That door.”
“That door leads into the hallway we used to get to this room.”
The feline just smiled. I hate when people get cryptic, so I walked out the door –
And found myself in the alley, the door closing and locking behind me.
“Seriously.” What these people did with ‘technology’ rivaled the best magic-users I’ve seen so far.
“’Seriously’ what?” the roebuck asked, stepping out the same door into the alleyway.
I shook my head. “Nothing. Let’s go.”
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST>
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Wolf
Size 113 x 120px
File Size 64.5 kB
Listed in Folders
It takes a LOT of booze to knock out an Elf.
eocostello related in one of his stories that an Elf got utterly blattered on wine before fighting a dragon, and won. It's believed that he belched as the dragon breathed fire, and both exploded. 
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