the-erlking-waits started following winterknightwizard

-sweats nervously-

“I greet you, Lord Erlking.”

"Wizard."

The walls of the cavern seemed to glisten with moisture, though the air seemed crisp.  Strangely, the Erlking’s steed made no sound as it stepped upon the hard stone floor of the passage, the only sound slithering through the darkness being the sound of leather straps jostling, and metal weapons clicking.  The green fire of the torches leapt and twisted as if a phantom breeze was passing through the cavern.  Neither the goblins nor the Erlking paid them any mind as they continued onward into the darkness, the torches igniting as they approached, and extinguishing as they departed.

In time, the sounds of activity echoed up out of the darkness before them, and soon more light became apparent.  The rough, natural look of the cavern gave way to more worked and chiseled columns and passages, slowly evolving into what one could truly consider to be a Hall in its most majestic and awesome fashion.  More goblins moved around them, now, each taking time to bow their head to their lord, with some touching a knuckle to their tough, scarred foreheads, as they went about their responsibilities and duties.  

In one stony courtyard, goblins threw long, deadly spears at wooden targets, while sprinting, jumping, flipping, or standing still.  Some were mocked for their failures, while others received raucous cheers for a well-executed and intricate throw.  In another, a forge burned hot as new killing tools were brought to life with hammer and anvil, flecks of amber sparks rising up in elation as a large, muscular goblin pounded away, sparing a glance to the arriving party before returning to his work.  In yet another, goblins worked at skinning various slain creatures, some hides stretched out already to be scraped clean, the meat being sliced up and tossed into pots, bones stacked in a corner, where one old goblin chipped at them, creating small tools from his collection.  The various courtyards went on and on, on different levels, of different sizes.  No goblin was left idle.

One passageway seemed to go lower into the earth, and perhaps a whisper of a scream echoed up.  But passersby paid the sounds no mind.

Each part of the Erlking’s halls were alive, but the top of the massive cavern in which he made his home reminded one that there was no starry sky to see above.  Here, one was truly at the mercy of the Lord of the Halls.

The Erlking dismounted and left the reins with a young, gangly goblin who led the horse off elsewhere.  Likewise, he left his helm in the hands of Rafforut.

He turned then to the woman he had brought, smiling a crooked smile with his eyes aglow, and gestured widely with his arms.  

“Mine halls.”

On the Erlking’s heels, they stepped into the cavern, and Hannah second-guessed her choice more and more. What if I could’ve made it, fending for myself? What if I die in here? Do I still have a chance to run?

She glanced back over her shoulder just in time to see the torches they’d passed blink out; the space behind the goblins escorting her fell into darkness. I guess that’s a ‘no’, then.

Maybe it was for the better. She’d struck a bargain with the Erlking. And although she was hardly an expert in matters of the supernatural, she knew that it was a bad idea to try and back out of a deal made with something not human. Worse than making that deal in the first place, no matter how bad she felt that decision had been.

They walked in silence, and soon the tunnel opened into a huge cavern, full of more like the Erlking’s three servants. It looked to be a bustling underground square, buzzing with activity: here there were drills and sparring matches, there were weapons being worked, there were hides being cured and hung… on and on. Down, down to Goblin Town, Hannah singsonged in her head, trying to bring at least a tiny bit of levity to the situation.

The Erlking dismounted, handing his horse off to a stable-boy (stable-goblin?), and even flat-footed he seemed to tower over Hannah.

“It’s… impressive,” she told him when he prompted her, and she meant it, even if she wasn’t especially happy about being there. “So… now that we’re here, what next?”

His eyes flicked over their surroundings before coming to rest on her.  “Thy mortal form as thou standst here, though filled with power, shall be far too soft for mine halls.  Thou shalt come with me, and soon shall we see what manner of covering suits thy bare mortal form best.” With that, he turned away from her and began to walk, not bothering to gesture for her to follow, passing by yet more goblins, all set to specific duties within the halls.  “My kin be fine warriors, equal even to those of the Queen of Air and Darkness.  Here in mine halls do they hone their skills, ever ready for the day I choose for them to march.  War be as a great hunt.” They passed by a crowd of goblins fighting over a haunch of cooked meat, and the Erlking pulled aside a frayed fabric curtain set in the stone before a cut out entry to a chamber beyond.  Pulling it to one side, he stooped to step in, not checking to see if the mortal woman followed. Torchlight showed a long chamber with multiple wooden tables and metal tools along one side.  On the other hung cloth, furs, leather, and metal, all waiting to be manipulated into whatever armor or clothing was necessary in the lives of the goblins and their king.  An old, wizened goblin stood on the far end of the chamber, fast thin fingers creating a vest of chain mail, dark eyes never blinking.  He did not stand up from his work station to acknowledge the Erlking, and the Erlking did not take offense. “Bhavek, I shall have thee turn thy hands to this: suitable coverings for my mortal...guest.  She shall be of help to me, and shall she empty some cells of my dungeons for me.  Her coverings shall be appropriate for battle.”  The goblin did not look up, but nodded.  The Erlking gestured to Bhavek with his hand, his amber eyes looking at the mortal woman. “Inform Bhavek what thou wouldst need.  Then shall thou find me within mine halls.”  With that, he departed.

Long in its coming is this word to me.

He gave insult to the Hunt.

So you want to hunt this guy? To what end?

To bring him to mine halls, to the chambers where the screams of the vampires have long since turned to forgotten echoes.

What care thou for this healer?

Long in its coming is this word to me.

But it appears to be a season for hunting healers of the tooth.

Healers of the tooth? You mean dentists?

Thy healers of thy teeth, yet it be but one that seems to think himself hunter.

The dentist that thinks himself a hunt-

…

Oh.

Oh.

You mean the one that killed Cecil the lion?

Mortal meeklings must always give names to those that have their own.

He gave insult to the Hunt.

Long in its coming is this word to me.

But it appears to be a season for hunting healers of the tooth.

Healers of the tooth? You mean dentists?

Thy healers of thy teeth, yet it be but one that seems to think himself hunter.

Proven Guilty by Jim Butcher (via writeoutoflove)

Wizards make for bad eating, but they can be eaten.

Attend

I be in possession of a human tome, emblazoned with the words “The Most Dangerous Game.” What be this most dangerous game? Be it worthwhile to discover the tome’s secret?

Indeed, Lord of the Hunt, in your case I believe such a book would strike your fancy. In fact, you may identify closely with certain aspects of the tale…

Thy words be taken under consideration, creature of the jade.

Attend, Mortal Meeklings:

My steed, my blade, my bow, my quiver, all call out to me. They bid me make use of them. A test of your skill and mind, mortal meeklings: What creature be worthy of hunt by the Erlking?

Hmm what are you using to indicate worthyness?  Ferocity? Cleverness? The knowledge they their removal will make the world a better place?

The clever be always good game.  

And what care I for the state of thy world?

You live here.

In thy world? Pah. My world is mine own.

Unless there are planets and dimensions with sentient beings I don’t know about Earth is the only place the Never Never opens up into. And unless I’ve got the magic wrong, humans are the only ones Sidhe can breed with to make more Sidhe. Okay, maybe you don’t live in my house but we’re atleast neighbors. And if my house burns down you’re fucked.

What need have I for more Sidhe? If they be worthy, they shall survive. If they be unworthy of life, it will be taken from them. Should thy home indeed burn down, mine halls shall remain. All that thou knoweth could become dust and glass, and the Erlking would remain, if he be worthy of it. Mortals be keen on destroying land and life, yet here I stand.

Attend, Mortal Meeklings:

My steed, my blade, my bow, my quiver, all call out to me. They bid me make use of them. A test of your skill and mind, mortal meeklings: What creature be worthy of hunt by the Erlking?

Hmm what are you using to indicate worthyness?  Ferocity? Cleverness? The knowledge they their removal will make the world a better place?

The clever be always good game.  

And what care I for the state of thy world?

You live here.

In thy world? Pah. My world is mine own.

Attend, Mortal Meeklings:

Thou wouldst be returned once we have had our fill of your tales of Lovecraft.  Thy body shall be unharmed when brought to mine halls, and unharmed when it departs.

There we go, perfect!

Nothing personal, big guy, just needed to hear it out loud. Standard fae protocol.

Then we are agreed.

Long has it been since one agreed to such terms.  It shall be...interesting.

Attend, Mortal Meeklings:

Thou wouldst not be placed in a bag.  Be this satisfactory?

I would like a guarantee for safe transportation to your hall, and safe transportation back to my home when I wish it, with full guest rights while in your stronghold. That would be satisfactory.

Thou wouldst be returned once we have had our fill of your tales of Lovecraft.  Thy body shall be unharmed when brought to mine halls, and unharmed when it departs.