Oh My Aching Head...

Today was a bad day.

I woke up in the middle of a field, blue sky, birds chirping, it sickened me somewhat. And it wasn’t just because of the mind-splitting headache I was suffering from either, I always preferred lurking in the shadows, I just felt so exposed and helpless. I walked to a nearby stream, although stream is a poor word for a gigantic mass of water that happened to be knee deep. A few flashbacks only made the headache worse, and I saw my mother, dead, and a crazed elf-man standing over her amongst a city of burning flame. My head still throbbing, I heard another crazed scream, although this one was real, I hoped so at least. The scream went something like this: “WHERE’S MY HAT?!?!” I went to the source of the scream and what did I find? A bald 16-year old human girl. A shapeshifted into an elf, and approached her. She introduced herself as the “Glorious Monarch.” Oh god, I thought, what the Hell have I gotten myself into now?

Before she uttered another sentence, she collapsed on the ground, apparently suffering from the same amnesia I suffered. When she came to, I had her at stick-point. I know that sounds pathetic, but when you’re in a forest, what else is there to use? Besides, this stick was pointy. She was totally oblivious to my threat and walked off, expecting me to follow her and help her find some deer that stole her “crown” (hat). With nowhere else to go, I followed Her Kinglyness, and was able to keep my cover by finding some deer tracks. We followed the tracks through the wilderness for what seemed like hours, until the tracks came to a dead end at a totem pole. Her Kinglyness climbed the pole rather quickly and point to a direction going right, I stalked off in that direction and (you know what, I’m gonna just call her H.K. because “Her Kinglyness” takes too long to write) H.K. did some ninja move or something and caught up.

We soon came upon a crude fort with a single way in, it begged us to go in. H.K. walked in like she owned the place, which she probably thought she did, whilst I followed behind. Inside there was a tribe of savage elves in war-paint, and many nude, which seemed rather disturbing to the both of us, and while H.K. strode into the middle by the giant bonfire, I stole behind a row of tipis. H.K. proclaimed peace, but the chief, RunningRiver (giggle) was not so kind, and he was wearing her hat. As they were talking, four elves were sneaking up behind her with a big net, so I grabbed a spear, pulled off a ninja move of my own, knocked down a tipi to cause a distraction, and continued running along the row of tipis. H.K. took advantage of the moment to make a grab for her hat, but RunningRiver beat her to the punch (literally) and she was grabbed from behind. Before she was hurt, I made my way to RunningRiver and held him at spear-point.

I have one thing to say about big-bad-chief-guy here, HE IS NOT A CLEVER MAN.

We negotiated and he agreed to give us H.K.‘s hat if we went and picked up a gun shipment for him, something about a war, I didn’t really care that much. We were accompanied by his son, SeeingFarther (seriously! How do they come up with these names?) who seemed more intelligent than his father as he saw how foolish he was and wanted this war over. We made our way to the rendezvous point and were met by 2 wagons, led by a strange Russian man, a wimpy priest, a buff guy called Johnny, and some dame. After exchanging pleasantries, we went on route to the camp, me on some kickass gatling gun and H.K. supplied with her own firearms on the other caravan. We hit a small bump in the road, however, when we heard some rustling in the bushes. Johnny went to investigate, and after 10 minutes or so, the priest went to find Johnny. Johnny returned moments later. He was shitting. Why must I be surrounded by imbeciles? Then we heard the priest scream and found him, unconscious, and naked, in front of some guy with bottle caps pinned to his chest and a sack of tin cans.

He proclaimed himself a servant to H.K. and after giving her a shovel (what?!) she made him her Minister of Defense. The man called himself the Commander, and his other self the Lieutenant, and he is under the impression that his tin cans were real soldiers, and that he was a war veteran from Yantar War, which happened centuries ago. We went back to the wagons, but I had a feeling we had forgotten something (oh shit! The Priest!), and after some discrepancies, I returned to my post at the gatling gun, with the Commander and H.K. in the other wagon. We continued onwards until…we got stuck. After a little pushing, a gunshot was fired, and Johnny lay on the ground, dead. We rushed into battle positions, ready to fight whatever savages came our way. Me at the gatling gun. The Russian guy behind me. H.K. loading her own gun. And the Commander stuffing a couple guns into two of his cans that had “Elite Guard” written on them.

Like I said, this was not a good day. Oh my aching head…

—Corona Vox

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