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das_mervin (![[info]](http://www.journalfen.net/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} das_mervin) wrote,@ 2007-10-08 10:14:00 |
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Have to test it before I post it!
Sorry this took so long, but I got wordy, Sands got wordy, and it was just a miserable excuse for a fic. That, and I spent a lot of time screaming “WHY???!!!!” to the heavens as I read this, and not just in the “Why, God?” fashion.
The previous sporking of this fic is here, along with the profile. Here’s the next part! Part one, of chapter two!
Harry has a prophetic dream…where he beats the game Neverwinter Nights 2—WITHOUT THE WALKTHROUGH!!!
Mervin: All right! When we last left off, Harry had been kidnapped by one Daeghun Farlong, who had in turn sent Albus Dumbledore a rather rude and condescending letter about how and why he was kidnapping young Mr. Potter, as well as informing him that Harry was now going to grow up in Farlong’s homeworld—but he’s not telling where it is, nanny-nanny-boo-boo. Note-worthy facts:
—Lily’s love sacrifice has been changed from that to just some spectacular D&D dice-throwing skilz—taught to Lily by Mr. Farlong himself!
—There’s a chance that Lily now may not have known one Severus Snape at all, as Halcyon here has her living near Bristol in the south of England instead of in the industrial north.
—As a result, Dumbledore was apparently leaving Harry with the Dursleys for absolutely no reason, as he never said he thought it was love magic at all.
—Mr. Farlong is a complete jerk, canon characterization not withstanding.
—I recently discovered that Halcyon is essentially writing down his escapades in playing Neverwinter Nights 2, just with Harry Potter and in fanfic form.
Typical, really.
So, onto chapter two, where we actually see the end product of Farlong’s loving care! Sands, you ready to go?
Sands: No.
Mervin: Too bad.
Sands: *whining* When do I get to spork with Snape again? I want him.
Mervin: When he’s through recovering from that snakebite of his. Now shut up about it and let’s go.
The Hells had come to the village of West Harbor.
Sands: Oh, good—does that mean it’s over?
Mervin: No—it means Harry has arrived on the scene.
Sands: Well, fuck.
Ash drifted on the breeze like a black snow, born from fires that licked the moonlit sky above.
Mervin: I wish fire and sky would stop having these extended make-out sessions—nobody wants to see you two going at it like a pair of horny teenagers!
The sounds of battle – steel on steel,
Mervin: —wool, perhaps?
the screams and pleadings of
Sands: —all those who have wronged the author. Take that, Jimmy Gordon, for pant’sing him in high school!
the wounded and the dying, the roaring of magic unleashed – rang out around the hooded wizard,
Mervin: Oh, good. Now we get the cliché of the “dramatic unveiling” of our hero. I get that quite enough with LotR Sues and their constant throwing back of their hoods to reveal they’ve got bewbies instead of pee-pees.
Sands: Goddamn, that sounded so very, very wrong—I love it.
Mervin: I get enough of reading more into my words than there really is from Hyde, Sands—you mind?
Sands: I do, actually.
Mervin: *scowls greatly*
a deafening cacophony that tore at his mind, threatening the concentration needed to work his Art.
Mervin: (Nameless Wizard Who Is Quite Obviously Harry): Goddammit, I am trying to paint here—do you know how much concentration is required to work with pastels in this light?!
The shadow creatures had come in force and unexpectedly,
Sands: *laughs—a lot*
Mervin: *continues her scowling*
but their tactics were not those of an occupying army, nor of bandit raiders.
Sands: Yeah, they just turned off the lights—shadow creatures tended to do that.
The creatures were searching for something, and the wizard with tattooed
Mervin: —skin because, like, tattoos make you totally manly and draw attention away from the fact that you’ve never touched a woman, make the saints cry, and have a penis the size of a shelled peanut—
arcs of power running over his head would be damned if he would let them have it.
Mervin: (Nameless Wizard Who Is Obviously Harry): As if I’d give you my D&D deck—years of work building it up to be the greatest set ever shall now assist me in warding off your pathetic attacks! Role for initiative!
Sorry, had to bring in a little Penny-Arcade while I was at it.
There was a sudden lull in the fighting; the shadows broke away from the wizard, swirling to the edges of the town square like leaves in the autumn wind.
Sands: (Shadows): We’re going home—it’s not fun anymore.
They were waiting for something. The wizard steeled himself and gritted his teeth while he
Sands: —diligently bent over and grabbed his ankles while Halcyon cackled behind him with a Keyboard—
Mervin: So wrong, but SO accurate.
Sands: Why, thank you. I do try.
invoked potent spells of protection. Shadows thrown by burning farmsteads danced madly across the green,
Mervin: …green? I never heard about anything that was green.
Sands: Maybe it’s his eyes? They’re green.
Mervin: Quiet—we’re not supposed to know it’s Harry having a prophetic dream about his own awesomeness.
slowly coming together and merging into an inky black pool.
The pool of shadow rose up, resolving into a gaunt, humanoid figure taller than the houses of West Harbor.
Mervin: (Shadow): Now you shall deal with me, oh Prince, and all the powers of HELL!!!
Sands: Three cheers for the sexiest Disney villain ever.
Mervin: HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS STUFF???!!!!
An air of icy malevolence,
Mervin: Dude, it is Maleficent!
Sands: Well, then this wanker doesn’t have a chance—he’s too good for Fairy Godparents, after all.
Mervin: I look forward to it.
the charnel stink
Mervin: *mockingly* Ooooo—check it out, Sands, Halcyon can use Thesaurus.com.
Sands: How impressive. I’m gonna drink now.
of an open grave
Mervin: The funk of forty thousand years!
on a winter morning,
Sands: *snorts* Winter morning? Oh, please. Everyone knows that the time an open grave is a bad thing is the summer. Ever smelled an open grave in the summer? Or left a body in your trunk for two days in summer—Mexico’s summer, I might add?
hung about the creature as it turned its burning eyes to the wizard.
Mervin: If that’s a balrog, I’m officially out.
There was no sound as the creature struck – no roar of challenge, no hiss of breath, even the crunch of feet on grass.
Sands: In other words, it was very boring.
Mervin: Only 2001: A Space Odyssey could get away with muting the movie, Mister. You are not Stanley Kubrick, so you aren’t allowed to mute your fic. Stop that immediately.
Blades of pure, black shadow melted from the giant’s hands, formed out of the nothingness of the Plane of Shadow.
Sands: It’s Freddy Krueger!
Mervin: *snarling* And if you’re not careful, he’s gonna show up and emulsify your sorry ass! Stop doing that!
That blade arced toward the wizard’s head in a strike swifter than a snakebite,
Mervin: *raised eyebrow* I wasn’t aware that snakebites were very fast. Actually, I thought they were fairly stationary.
Sands: Yeah—look at Snape.
Mervin: You know, I wouldn’t bring that up with him.
Sands: I’m trying to decide if pissing him off that much would better or worsen my chances of getting under his robes.
Mervin: *doesn’t even bother*
only to strike hard and rebound from a sword of glittering silver.
Sands: Excellent. Let’s give Harry more specialty D&D items. He already owns everything needed to be virtually invincible, after all.
Mervin: Nothing worse than a cheat-code wielding gamer who wants to parade about through a fanon universe and get revenge upon all those who wronged him through writing.
The wizard’s blade shone like moonlight and rippled as though it were made from liquid mercury.
Mervin: I really don’t think a melting sword is very effective. And isn’t mercury, you know, always liquid?
Sands: Nah, it’s just a metaphor. Look—his sword is going limp. Eh, eh? You read Chaucer, right?
Mervin: *sighs* Either way, Sands, it’s just Halcyon playing the game. Hell, he was probably playing it as he wrote this, and just basing it off of what he was doing.
The shadows shrieked and recoiled from its light.
Mervin: (Shadows): Oh my GAWD, it’s so TACKY!
Even the shadowy giant seemed taken aback by the blade,
Sands: Taken aback, as in it was thinking, “Um, what was that supposed to do?”
and the wizard took advantage of the opportunity to launch a vicious counterattack.
Mervin: And so he began to dance!
Sands: Sing, more likely—I’m sure his cracking voice and hideously off-tune notes will make any creature, no matter how vile, shrivel up and die within three bars.
Violet sparks flashed where the blades connected, and the battle began in earnest,
Sands: The battle of the fruits, apparently.
Mervin: Now, now, Sands—don’t insult gay people by trying to drag them into this. They deserve better.
dancing silver clashing with shifting black.
Mervin: Purple-prose versus showing-off text.
Arcane fire seared the night,
Sands: Well, call out the Arcane fire brigade!
only to be absorbed by absolute emptiness of the shadowy giant’s form. Wizard and creature dueled across the breadth of the charred remains of the village,
Sands: I always loved shows and movies that did shit like this. The village has been razed, Harry doesn’t know if there are any survivors, but he’s gonna stomp all over it in his effort to kill whatever this thing is (don’t know the canon that well, but I really, really doubt that’s Voldemort—he was resorted to the “Things to Do When I Have the Time” list Harry looks back on every once in a while in the “Ancient’s Story”) and kill any survivors there.
Mervin: It’s for the greater good, after all. The mighty Pickleman agrees. By the way, I’m fairly positive he’s talking about the King of Shadows.
neither able to gain the advantage.
Sands: Well, then they both suck. Come on, Halcyon—pull out a cheat code already and end this mess!
As the tide of battle carried them towards the western edge of the green,
Mervin: There it is again! Where the hell is there supposed to be green?! It’s winter! Is he referring to a golf course, or something?!
Sands: If that’s it, I hope Harry has Tiger Woods in his deck.
a single sound rose out of the din of battle:
Mervin: And then the word battle picked up its skirts and ran away, tired of being so over-used.
a high, reedy noise, the unmistakable cry of
Mervin: —canon. “No more!” it wailed miserably.
an infant. For just a heartbeat’s time, the wizard’s eyes broke away from his opponent, darting across the chaos of the battlefield to find the source of the cry. There – a mother and her child,
Mervin: —conveniently alive and unharmed so Harry can have a distraction and then somehow come back and save the day!
crouched behind the half-smashed rubble of what had once been the village headman’s home.
Sands: And Harry is probably the one who killed the headman in his heroic battle of the big giant shadow. Well done.
The mother’s eyes, wide and bright with terrified grief, met the wizards’s in a silent plea for help.
Mervin: (Pointless Lady): Would you mind stopping your battle with that big thing and help me put out the fire in my house?
Sands: What the hell did she think he was doing?! He is helping, you stupid bint! He’s trying to kill this thing so it’ll stop eating your village! Dumb bitch.
It was only a moment, a brief instant of human contact in the midst of a duel to the death.
Mervin: What’s this? Ha! As if I’d believe that, Halcyon—all your characters have no regard for human life, so long as they get their way and look good doing it. You’re just doing this for drama and I know it.
But it was too long.
Sands: *scoffs* There’s no such thing as too long!
The shadowy giant’s blade struck so swiftly it scarcely seemed to cross the intervening space. The wizard desperately brought the silver sword up in a parry, but his focus had been shaken.
Mervin: So, let me get this straight, Halcyon. It’s not a flaw when your version of Harry shows a tiny bit of compassion for human life and concern for a baby’s survival, but the real Harry is an idiot because he shows compassion for human life and concern for basically everyone’s survival?
Sands: The difference being this version of Harry was “created” by the author, which makes him automatically better, as the author is the greatest author to ever live and you will bow before him and his skill and review him accordingly or there will be whippings, damn you.
Mervin: Well, good to get that cleared up, anyway. *sighs irritably*
Bereft of the focusing power of the mage’s will, the silver sword began to crack, jagged lines of light spider-webbing across its surface.
Mervin: Oh, great, now he’s bringing Spider-Man into his fic—as if he needs more super-powers and fandoms! Leave Peter Parker alone, he’s my second favorite super-hero!
Sands: Who’s the first?
Mervin: Nananananananana-Nananananananana—BATMAN!
The wizard desperately poured his arcane power into the blade, but to no avail.
Sands: (Harry): Noooo!!! I accidentally typed “dm_dog” instead of “dm_god!” DAMN YOU, DYSLEXIA!!! *is smote*
The shadow giant’s eyes glowed with triumph as the silver sword shattered into a dozen pieces, its pure, clear light winking out like a snuffed candle.
Mervin: Harry, your staff is broken. Grima, get in there and slit this bastard’s throat.
The force of the blow was also such that the pieces were sent flying in every direction. In the silence that followed, the child wailed.
Sands: Ah yes, and there’s another cliché that Halcyon wanted to use—it’s always the crying baby, to emphasize loss. *would roll his eyes, but…you know*
However, it seemed that there would be a consequence to the sword’s destruction…
Mervin: Yeah, you have to start the level over. Hope you saved, Harry.
at the exact spot where the sword was destroyed an unearthly bright light sprang into existence.
Sands: (White Light): This is God. I’ve reviewed it with a committee, and I’m going to incinerate this fic for the good of the Universe.
The shadowy giant was distracted from his satisfied perusal of the fallen wizard’s form
Sands: Aww, hell—Necromancy does not mean necrophilia, you sick fuck.
Mervin: *is appalled*
as the light expanded in brilliance over a thousandfold.
Sands: The birth of a sun is always a nice thing to hear about, isn’t it?
Mervin: I think it’s nice to watch, personally.
Sands: *bites*
Then it expanded in a massive implosion and subsequent explosion of power and force that blinded every single fighter still standing on the battlefield,
Mervin: Huh—he really did cast magic missile at the darkness.
Sands: I didn’t know you could even do that.
it’s strength was such that it lifted those closest to it in the air and flung them about as if slung from a catapult and the world was consumed with white light…
Mervin: Uh, did Harry just nuke Neverwinter?
Sands: I really think he did. Good riddance.
…the dream ended, Harry Potter sat up in his tangled bedsheets with a gasp of air, his hand darting towards his
Sands: *opens his mouth*
Mervin: NO.
quarterstaff
Sands: *smug*
Mervin: Dammit.
automatically from where it leaned against the head of his bedframe. Intelligence and reason returned to him
Sands: “Returned” implies he ever had any.
a moment after his calloused hand
Mervin: Oh, so his hand is mean, huh? Do you any idea how much I hate that??!!
closed around the comforting weight of the weapon.
Mervin: Well. I see he didn’t waste any time with the whole, “I’m only comfortable if I have my weapons with me to provide me with an advantage over all I survey” credo he’s so very fond of.
Sands: There is nothing wrong with feeling uncomfortable without a gun.
Mervin: I don’t see how you feel comfortable at all with where you tend to store your guns.
Sands: Once they warm up, the rubbing is actually quite pleasant.
His hand retreated from the staff and wiped the cold sweat that the nightmare had seen fit to deposit on him.
Sands: Ahahaha—I could say so much about that right there.
Mervin: You could, but you won’t.
He flung his covers off and
Sands: —the cold air immediately made his wang retreat to the warmth of his asshole.
Mervin: *stonily* Speaking from experience, are we?
Sands: *smacks her*
stood to grab a cloth from the washpan on his study desk and run it over his exposed torso as well.
Mervin: “As well?” What was he running it over before?
Sands: His dick.
Mervin: *wryly* How straightforward you are.
Sands: It’s the best approach, really.
It was one accustomed to toil and strain from farm work, hunting and the training his foster father had given him.
Sands: And his ass was accustomed to the regular spankings his foster father had given him, as well as the regular—
Mervin: I think you’ve said quite enough, Sands.
Satisfied that he was dry as he could get
Sands: Don’t let that thing air-dry, you idiot! Shrinkage!
despite the damp air of West Harbor he headed over to his chest, which
Mervin: —he kept separate from the rest of his body so he could admire its manliness.
contained most of his clothes.
Since it was the day of the Fair he decided to go about dressed as the wizard that he was.
Mervin: Pah—he’d dress like that anyway, just to show off and cow people into doing whatever he wants.
Sands: He’s like alcoholics who only drink to things like, say, lint.
He put on dark purple trousers
Sands: *lisping* He’s not just any wizard, mind—he’s fabulous!
with durable calf length leather boots, and after a white undertunic he took the ornate purple half-robes and fastened them around him.
Mervin: Purple really isn’t your color, Harry.
Sands: Draco thinks so.
The half-robes were called as such because they were
Mervin: —a little Liberace cape the Pumaman would be envious of.
open to the front of the legs,
Mervin: Pardon me?
Sands: I think he’s saying it has a flap for easy access.
allowing much more ease of moment than the more traditional full robes the wizards in the city tended to wear.
Mervin: Ah, in other words, he’s doing it so he can stand out from the rest of them, because, after all, he’s paranoid and thinks he has to be ready for battle at a moment’s notice at all times.
Harry’s half-robes were very nicely tailored, with ornate patterns on them written in Elvish;
Sands: One of them, for instance, said, “Live Long and Prosper.”
they were a gift from Harry’s master of the Arcane, the wizard Tarmas, for having completed his novitiate training and gaining
Mervin: —a nice wimple for his efforts.
the title of Journeyman,
Sands: *flatly* Journeyman.
Mervin: Yeah…Halcyon feels the need to give all of his characters titles, whether they be original or made up (which actually has yet to happen—I haven’t seen an original character of his that isn’t in some way based off of someone else’s characters). Harold the Lost for “Banished,” Harold the Black for “Sanctuary of Arda,” Druidess Padraigin for Rose Potter, Ambassador Harry for “An Ancient’s Story…” It makes him feel important.
Sands: Well, here’s Halcyon’s title: “Scrotal Rash.”
on his eighteenth birthday. That was barely three days ago.
He tucked and straightened his clothes and after tying his long black hair together
Sands: Together? He tied his hair together? How many wigs does he wear at a time?
Mervin: He also really likes his characters to have long hair—I think it’s a Fruedian thing. Looks like we’re settling into a typical Halcyon fic. *yawns*
proceeded to head out of his room and into the main living area.
It was there that he found his foster father,
Sands: Oh. It’s him. What’s new in the hollow tree, ya freak?
staring contemplatively into the fire from the hearth.
Mervin: He’s staring at the fire from the hearth?! Isn’t that dangerous?
Sands: I say he stays there. Let’s baste him.
“Ah, you’re up and dressed I see,” said Daeghun solemnly, turning to face Harry.
Mervin: Since Harry waking up and getting dressed in the morning is such a solemn event, after all.
Sands: Nah—facing Harry is a solemn event. It means you have to look at him. That’s pretty damned somber.
“Good morning, father,” greeted Harry with a nod, it was always odd to him to have to look down to Daeghun,
Sands: —seeing as Daeghun usually had Harry on his knees instead—
Mervin: Don’t say that, because the author gets off on having his characters look down at everybody.
Sands: Actually, I think that makes my comment all the better.
despite the fact that he towered over his father, the old elf could easily trounce anyone he fought hand to hand with.
Sands: What about cock to cock?
Mervin: I don’t think anybody in this fic could win that.
Sands: Then it’s a sure victory for me! I’m all for it.
Mervin: Some victory—don’t you think that’s a little unfair?
Sands: Perhaps you don’t remember my speech about the matador and the bull.
Mervin: Yeah, yeah, whatever. Either way, the run-ons are about to smother me.
“With today, being the day of the Fair,
Mervin: The Fair of Unnecessary and Excessive Commas, perhaps?
the Village council requires me to man the archery competition,” said Daeghun,
Sands: Maid Marian will be so pleased. So will I, if she’s there. Rawr—foxy lady.
Mervin: …I think I may have to kill you for that.
Sands: Please do—I’d rather be dead than spork one more fic with you.
Mervin: Well, then, I’ll keep you alive and keep throwing fics at you. But I won’t throw you in the briar patch. And if you don’t shape up, I won’t bring you around when Snape’s back.
though it was hard for anyone who didn’t
Sands: —have more than a few braincells—
know him, Harry could hear the irritation veiled in the tone of his father’s speech.
Mervin: Look, none of Halcyon’s characters, canon or no, ever bother to “veil” their irritation. They let it out in great waves of arrogance and huffiness and exaggerated, “GAWD, YOU ALL ARE SO INFERIOR AND I’M SO MUCH BETTER.”
Clearly standing around all day,
Sands: As opposed to foggily standing around all day, I guess.
watching people make a mockery of the art of Archery did not appeal to the Wood Elf.
Sands: *sneers* And yet, you wish to remain modest. Bravo. Well done indeed.
Mervin: Well, Farlong, if you’re so much better than everyone else at Archery, why don’t you just say you were off communing with nature that day, and spare us this show of exasperation? No one would miss you, if this is how you normally act.
“The human need to celebrate remembrance days baffles me,” he said with a grumble,
Mervin: That’s because you aren’t human, you little dipshit. We don’t get to cavort about for all time and steal babies.
Sands: If it baffles him so much, why doesn’t he just ask, instead of immediately deeming it stupid and below him and stand around telling everybody how much they suck and how he’s better?
“but something productive may come of it, the merchant Galen has come because of it, and he’ll want my stock of furs.”
Mervin: In other words, he’s not only an arrogant little sawed-off lizard, he’s also a selfish, arrogant, sawed-off lizard. That’s just peachy.
“I’ll try to negotiate a fair price,” stated Harry with a sigh,
Sands: Look—it’s another selfish, arrogant, sawed-off lizard.
Mervin: I vote we just throw red paint on him and his furs—just for the hell of it.
Sands: I tend to agree—claiming to be more in tune with nature than us nature-destroying, animal-killing humans and then parading about with armfuls of fur and wearing leather chaps every day doesn’t really fly with me.
Galen was really the only Merchant worth the title
Mervin: WHY ARE THESE PEOPLE THE GREAT AND POWERFUL JUDGES OF ALL TRADES?
Sands: Because they are, by default, Halcyon, and he is God. Smackdown on you, bitch.
Mervin: I’m so enlightened.
who made the trade run between the City of Neverwinter, West Harbor and everything in between. But the man was as thrifty as a Rogue,
Sands: Yeah—that’s the way you get ahead in the Merchant trade.
and it was a near constant battle with him to get reasonable
Mervin: —head—
Sands: Why, Mervin, I’m proud of you.
fair prices for the furs that Daeghun hunted and produced
Sands: Now that’s something I simply don’t approve of—hunting furries is wrong. And it’s even more wrong that he first hunts and kills them, then goes out and advocates them and converts more so he can hunt them, too.
Mervin: Relax, he’s not hunting furries. It’s just Halcyon assuming that “furs” and “animals” are interchangeable words.
Sands: I know. It’s called sarcasm.
(Harry helped occasionally when his studies permitted).
Mervin: (Halcyon!Harry): Yes, father, I’ll help you as soon as I am done showing everyone what worms they are.
“We won’t have to worry about that, this season,” said Daeghun, shaking his head.
Sands: (Halcyon!Daeghun): Why, you’ve advanced so far in your “studies” I’m sure you can force him to give you double the price by just flashing your eyes angrily at him!
Mervin: I tend to think he’s gonna use all these excess commas as throwing stars and just kill him—like a ninja. Because, after all, I’m sure Harry here is some form of ninja.
“Last year I organized a straight trade. You give him the furs and he’ll give you
Sands: (Halcyon!Daeghun): —one hell of a good blowjob. If he thinks the furs are good enough, he’ll throw in an ass-wax while he’s at it.
Mervin: *turns green*
a Duskwood Bow.” Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. Duskwood Bows were technically illegal in the Kingdom of Neverwinter,
Sands: But Daeghun and Harry have the author on their side, and petty rules won’t stop him from doing whatever he wants.
since the wood they were made from came from an ancient forest that technically fell under the jurisdiction of the Luskan City State; sworn enemies of Neverwinter.
Mervin: Okay, so it’s illegal—why does he want it, why are they so illegal (is it like Cuban cigars in the US, does the wood have dangerous magical properties, what?), and what happens if he’s caught with it? You wanna explain that to us, Halcyon, or just throw it out there to show how badass your version of Daeghun is because he owns contraband?
Sands: I suspect the latter, myself.
Mervin: Sadly, so do I.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, my son, I have to go
Mervin: —potty.
and see to the Fair.”
Sands: Yes, since they just can’t survive without you. *spits in the general direction of the fic*
Daeghun gave Harry a brief half-hug and walked out of the small, but warm home that he had lived in for the past eighteen years.
Mervin: The general impression I’m getting is that Harry has been living in a hobbit hole for eighteen years (never mind that he just turned eighteen and was kidnapped at age one, and, if the author had had the ability to do simple subtraction, he would’ve written seventeen years). *scans ahead* Uh-oh. Time for a classic Halcyon infodump!
Sands: *puts on a pith helmet*
The interior was basic, and only a few portraits and luxuries gained from Daeghun’s own adventuring days littered the home. The most prominent of which was a portrait of a regal she-elf, that looked down from over the mantelpiece, Daeghun's late wife. Harry had never known a mother, neither his foster, nor his birthmother. At least according to Daeghun, his birthmother had died when he was barely a year old, and not six months later, the Battle of West Harbor claimed his fostermother. It almost made him think a curse was upon him, that any woman who claimed to be a mother to him, would meet death. It was an irrational thought, but it was there nonetheless.
Sands: *brightly* Thank you so much for that interlude! When do I get to tell a story? I’ve got some great ones that would provide excellent exposition about my tragic and extremely awesome life. In any case, they’d probably be more exciting than this dreck.
Mervin: *bitterly* I hate pointless infodumps! Why can’t we find this out through the course of the fic, instead of stopping all action and then telling us all about it?!
He walked out of the small house and into the sunny, yet damp day. West Harbor was a small village of about twenty-eight houses and farmsteads clustered together.
Sands: I get the impression that Halcyon is now typing out some descriptions he found in the walkthrough he downloaded off of the internet in order to win Neverwinter Nights 2 without trying.
Mervin: *indignantly* There is nothing wrong with walkthroughs and cheat codes! I should know, I use them all the time. What’s wrong with him using them here is because he seems to think that you don’t sacrifice any of the plot or tension when you use the things.
A small river flowed through the middle of it, that required a bridge to connect the two halves of the village together.
Mervin: Along with an unnecessary comma.
The swampy trees bordered the village in all directions, bar for the small road that led to the High Road
Sands: —which in turn leads to the Low Road, and I’ll be in Scotland afore ye—where I will hopefully lose you, because I don’t wanna see you again.
and the Mere of Dead Men
Sands: —where I pushed this asshat in and cackled madly as he drowned.
(aptly called that for it was the center of the Battle of West Harbor and the number of dead soldiers that was still festering in the muggy water was something nobody cared to speculate at).
Mervin: Well, I usually don’t speculate at things anyway.
Sands: Good God, I would not want to live there—the smell in the summer must be hideous, all those dead bodies rotting in the middle of a bog? Disgusting.
The village was alive with the sounds of people gathering, chatting, talking and of music being played by the local bards.
Mervin: Wait, when did we even get to the village?! Harry had just walked out the door to deliver his stunning monologue about the village! We didn’t hear anything about him walking to it!
It was as Harry approached the Bridge that his two best friends in the village intercepted him.
Sands: Best friends…locked on target…firing missiles!
Amy and Bevil.
Mervin: Who are so integral to the story that they require a separate fragment to announce them, despite the fact that, after this section, we pretty much forget about them.
Amy he had befriended as a young girl
Sands: *raises eyebrows before bursting into raucous laughter*
Mervin: *giggles inanely* Well, go Harry!
who had eventually joined him as an apprentice to Tarmas when it was discovered she had
Sands: —a vagina.
the capability to
Mervin: —make a decent sandwich.
become a
Sands: —midget.
mage. She was now an exuberant young woman who had a great gift for Transmutation.
Sands: See? I was right.
Mervin: You were not.
Bevill on the other hand was the eldest son to the Starling family,
Sands: As opposed to the Sparrow family. *puffs up*
Mervin: I know where you’re going with that, Sands, and I’m stepping on you right now.
the ‘richest’ farmers in the Village.
Sands: Let’s douse him with red paint and hope he gets eaten by a monster.
He, however, had no interest in tending to tilled fields,
Mervin: I read that wrong and though it said “titted” fields.
Sands: Where can I get me some titted fields?!
but had picked up the blade and learned it well,
Mervin: Meaning he’s an experienced emo with the ultimate MySpace page?
getting instruction from Daeghun
Mervin: *grumpily* What makes him so great, anyway?
Sands: The author thinks he’s great because he’s immortal, so he is.
Mervin: Halcyon would be perfectly fine with his own personal Horcrux, I think. I mean, sure, he’d have to kill someone to do it, but hey! It’s for his own personal greater good!
and anybody else in the village who had any skill to impart.
Mervin: Meaning Harry.
Word was he was trying to convince his mother to
Sands: *coughs*
Mervin: NO.
allow him to join one of the Neverwinter City armies.
Mervin: Aaaaand I’m gonna skip this next part. It’s boring, it basically proves that Harry’s “declaration that he was a wizard” by wearing those fruity clothes was just him dressing up to role play for some kind of RenFest, and just more awkward dialogue about a) how great Harry is, b) how these two people think Harry is so great, c) how Harry’s mentor thinks Harry is so great and how much the other two suck and should try to be more like Harry, and d) how great Harry thinks Harry is and how much everybody else sucks. They’re going on about some kind of Harvest Cup, and how everyone wants to compete. There’s mention of blight on the crops, and Harry brings up druids (*snarls and foams out of sheer principle*). However, from what I can tell? It doesn’t have any bearing whatsoever on the story other than to emphasize the above mentioned A-D, because he doesn’t even show the Fair. The scene ends awkwardly and abruptly, and suddenly we’re back in London. It’s like Halcyon decided to write it later, like some people do, but then just forgot to do it in the first place. I’m not complaining, though—I know what it would’ve been like. Here, I’ll write in a small, summed-up scene for Halcyon, since he couldn’t be bothered to do it.
Harry: Man, they suck. Of course, everybody sucks compared to me, though—I should give them a break. I win.
There! That’s what the Fair would’ve been like, had Halcyon decided to write it. So, other than foreshadowing disease to the land of Neverwinter, this scene was pretty much pointless. Moving on.
30th July, 1991, Realm of Earth. England, London
Sands: Wait, wait, wait—read that again.
Mervin: *does so* What is it?
Sands: *scratches his stubble* July 30th—didn’t Halcyon say Harry’s birthday had been a few days ago?
Mervin: *blinks* Huh. Harry turned eighteen before it happened. That’s pretty damned impressive. Not to mention that England is apparently a town in the country of London.
Sands: *assumes the arrogant voice of the author—which isn’t too much different from his normal arrogant voice, really* Duh, Mervin—I already explained that in chapter one. “Time behaves differently across the planes.” Because you forgot the previous tidbits of information that I deigned to bestow upon your lesser mind, you have no right to criticize my story.
Mervin: I’m sorry to say that you’re probably right. He would say that. But Halcyon? “Time behaves differently across the planes” is nothing more than a deux ex machine to cover up your mistakes in the time line, as well as making Harry fully-grown and completely mature so he’s slightly more realistic as a mad-crazy uber-warrior and supergenius at eighteen rather than age ten (as he usually is in your stories) when he goes and shows off how great he is at solving mysteries at Hogwarts.
The massive hustle and bustle of early morning rush hour in the London Underground was a cacophony unlike anything they had ever heard.
Mervin: And I’d like to step in and say that’s probably the best sentence I’ve ever seen Halcyon write so far. I would say well done, but, knowing him, he probably stole it. So I’ll say well done to whoever wrote that.
The sheer size and scope of the city made Neverwinter seem like a country hamlet.
Sands: Why not a country riblet?
Mervin: I should smack you for that, and I would if I wasn’t thinking “spiral-cut country hamlet” myself.
The mechanical craftsmanship on display would be enough to baffle even the cleverest of dwarven smiths,
Sands: Aww, damn, now I have the image of Harry as Ash from Army of Darkness, chin and all, marching up to the dwarves with a chainsaw and a shotgun. “This is my BOOMSTICK!!!”
Mervin: Yeah, except his condescension wouldn’t be funny at all—it’d be annoying and make me want to let one of those fake Necronomicons eat him.
as the conveyances that carried people headed back and forth. The dress of the people was strange, minimal yet practical,
Mervin: YOU KNOW, THERE ARE SOME WOMEN WHO LIKE TO WEAR MORE THAN JUST THE MINIMUM REQUIREMENT.
Sands: Well, they aren’t worth mentioning—not when there are boobies.
and very intricate that no weaver could hope to match.
Mervin: In other words, Harry really should’ve grown up here because he wouldn’t have to wear fifty layers of purple robes in order to look dignified.
The bright-multicolored lights advertising everything from merchant wares to the latest entertainment offerings
Sands: PORN!!!
were dazzling.
Sands: Well, here’s to hoping that Harry has epilepsy.
High in the sky overhead flew more mechanical conveyances, carrying people at even greater speed.
Sands: Oh, are they? And how would you know what an airplane is carrying, Harry? How would you even know an airplane is a mode of transportation?! You’ve been campaigning in WoW for 18 years!
The city was like a bustling organism and three of the people in it clearly did not look like they belonged within it.
Mervin: Excellent of you to point that out, Halcyon! That’s my cue to kick them out. *does so* Get out, and don’t come back—this canon doesn’t need you, nor does it want you.
Yet no one took cognizance
Mervin: *drums fingers* Halcyon, a verb is a verb, an adjective is an adjective, a noun is a noun, and an adverb is an adverb. They are not interchangeable, no matter how smart you think it makes you look.
of the three hooded and cloaked figures standing off to one side of the Underground station platform.
Sands: —plotting how they were going to kill every last one of these worthless, useless Muggles.
If anyone tried to get a good look though, they would simply find their eyes sliding over them, unable to focus properly.
Sands: For once, I consider myself lucky that I can’t see them.
Mervin: And for once, I envy you and your sightlessness.
If one was to see them, they would see the tallest of the three figures hugging a smaller, clearly female figure to himself...
Mervin: OH BOY. Look, it’s the obligatory love interest. *sighs* I’ll wait until this little bitch is formally introduced before going on my rant of what is wrong with every last one of Halcyon’s obligatory love interests.
Sands: Thank you. I don’t think I could take another one of your rants without more tequila in my veins.
whilst the remaining cloaked figure simply stood to one side; and who seemed more at ease with the situation.
Sands: Knock it off, you pustule—you ain’t from around here, don’t act like you know how it works.
“Sharing your
Mervin: —bed—
memories of this place hardly seems adequate preparation for the true experience of it,” said the taller of the pair that was hugging each other.
Mervin: Well, they can stop hugging each other now, because I’m getting tired of hearing about it.
The sound of the bustling station did not seem to bother them for some reason, maybe it was because no sound reached them.
Sands: Well, maybe! Unfortunately, we just don’t know—because the author won’t tell us.
Mervin: Halcyon believes firmly that what you don’t know doesn’t hurt you!
Sands: *pushes his shades down* Uh, yeah—it does.
“It is quite overwhelming,” agreed the hooded
Sands: —monster?
man. “No amount of words or pale shades of memories can prepare you for the nature of this place.
Mervin: Unfortunately, “this place” has nothing to do with where you guys are supposed to be going, so why are we taking so much time to look at it?
Man has advanced himself greatly here, primarily by exploring and understanding the physical laws of the Universe,
Mervin: Not to mention snacks! Mmm…Twinkies…
and adapting machinery to take advantage of that.
Sands: In short, my arsenal I have stored under my bed could turn you pathetic little cocksuckers into hamburger before you could even throw your twenty-sided dice down to cast Magic Missile.
It’s actually a form of the Arcane in its own right…the word for it is,
Sands: —prostitution.
technology.”
“And yet, Nature still exists, how can this be?” asked a female voice from the smaller of the hugging pair.
Mervin: …how dumb are you, exactly?
Sands: If she starts going on about how we need to save the spotted owl, I’m plugging her, right here and now.
“It is only within the cities where the land is tamed to Man’s will, outside of them, Nature still holds sway…
Sands: This is really stupid.
Mervin: Oh, you noticed, hmm?
Sands: Yes, but I thought perhaps you hadn’t. Just checking.
it’s a precarious balance that exists on this Plane and is constantly shifting, but come…we must be on our way, Harry.”
Mervin: Good people. Now, just what is your way, exactly? I’m still completely in the dark as to where you are going, why you are going there, and what you plan to do once you get there.
“Very well,” said Harry and the three walked forward towards an arriving train that was stopping. They waited for the surge of disembarking passengers to get out and walked into the carriage. Harry immediately claimed two seats,
Mervin: (Harry): *chucks a little old lady into the aisle* Beat it, you dried up old prune, my hot and sexy companion needs to sit down. *pushes a little kid onto the floor* And you gotta make way for my grand and glorious ass—kiss it while you’re down there, why don’t you?
for himself and his companion. Daeghun merely stood opposite them, holding onto a flexible handle
Sands: Whoa, hey, not in public! There is a time and place for everything, your SEP field notwithstanding.
dangling from above.
Sands: (KingKong): I’m too good for these seats.
“How are you doing, Elanee?”
Mervin: Terrible. I don’t care if she’s canon, I hate her already.
“It is getting manageable,” said the druidess beside him shakily. “The muteness of the land is something that is like the sudden absence of music after a lifetime of constantly hearing the melody. It was painful at first, but…I’m fine.”
“You sure?” he asked in concern, hugging her tighter.
Sands: STOP THAT. It’s VERY annoying.
“Yes,” she said softly, “your presence also helps.”
Mervin: And just how does it help? Ever gonna explain that?
Sands: No, he’s not—and thank God for that, because if he had, I’m sure he would’ve gone on and on and on about how it’s because he and Elanee have some kind of soul bond and she must take comfort in his beefy, manly strength.
They spent fifteen minutes on the train
Sands: —reenacting the subway scene from Risky Business.
before Daeghun announced it was time to get off.
Mervin: (Daeghun): *caterwauling* Stop the world—I want to get off!!!
They awkwardly had to thread themselves through the crowded carriage towards the doors and finally disembarked after the train came to a sudden jerking stop.
Mervin: Meaning he announced it was time to get off before the train had stopped?
Elanee felt she could manage enough so that they only needed to hold hands as they walked.
Sands: WHY?
Mervin: You already said it was better if he didn’t explain—why ask now?
Sands: Even I can grow tired of this author’s constant throwing of things out there with no explanation—I am sick of him expecting me to just accept it. That’s like asking me to take it up the ass—ain’t gonna happen.
Mervin: Not even if it’s Snape?
Sands: Especially not if it’s Snape. I’d never hear the end of it.
Mervin: No, you’d be at the end of it.
Sands: Oh, shut up, pin-tits.
And because I’m a notoriously wordy sporker, I had to break the chapter up into two parts because it was getting too long. Part Two coming soon of a very special chapter—special, in that I want to kill something after I’m done reading it.
Sorry this took so long, but I got wordy, Sands got wordy, and it was just a miserable excuse for a fic. That, and I spent a lot of time screaming “WHY???!!!!” to the heavens as I read this, and not just in the “Why, God?” fashion.
The previous sporking of this fic is here, along with the profile. Here’s the next part! Part one, of chapter two!
Harry has a prophetic dream…where he beats the game Neverwinter Nights 2—WITHOUT THE WALKTHROUGH!!!
Mervin: All right! When we last left off, Harry had been kidnapped by one Daeghun Farlong, who had in turn sent Albus Dumbledore a rather rude and condescending letter about how and why he was kidnapping young Mr. Potter, as well as informing him that Harry was now going to grow up in Farlong’s homeworld—but he’s not telling where it is, nanny-nanny-boo-boo. Note-worthy facts:
—Lily’s love sacrifice has been changed from that to just some spectacular D&D dice-throwing skilz—taught to Lily by Mr. Farlong himself!
—There’s a chance that Lily now may not have known one Severus Snape at all, as Halcyon here has her living near Bristol in the south of England instead of in the industrial north.
—As a result, Dumbledore was apparently leaving Harry with the Dursleys for absolutely no reason, as he never said he thought it was love magic at all.
—Mr. Farlong is a complete jerk, canon characterization not withstanding.
—I recently discovered that Halcyon is essentially writing down his escapades in playing Neverwinter Nights 2, just with Harry Potter and in fanfic form.
Typical, really.
So, onto chapter two, where we actually see the end product of Farlong’s loving care! Sands, you ready to go?
Sands: No.
Mervin: Too bad.
Sands: *whining* When do I get to spork with Snape again? I want him.
Mervin: When he’s through recovering from that snakebite of his. Now shut up about it and let’s go.
The Hells had come to the village of West Harbor.
Sands: Oh, good—does that mean it’s over?
Mervin: No—it means Harry has arrived on the scene.
Sands: Well, fuck.
Ash drifted on the breeze like a black snow, born from fires that licked the moonlit sky above.
Mervin: I wish fire and sky would stop having these extended make-out sessions—nobody wants to see you two going at it like a pair of horny teenagers!
The sounds of battle – steel on steel,
Mervin: —wool, perhaps?
the screams and pleadings of
Sands: —all those who have wronged the author. Take that, Jimmy Gordon, for pant’sing him in high school!
the wounded and the dying, the roaring of magic unleashed – rang out around the hooded wizard,
Mervin: Oh, good. Now we get the cliché of the “dramatic unveiling” of our hero. I get that quite enough with LotR Sues and their constant throwing back of their hoods to reveal they’ve got bewbies instead of pee-pees.
Sands: Goddamn, that sounded so very, very wrong—I love it.
Mervin: I get enough of reading more into my words than there really is from Hyde, Sands—you mind?
Sands: I do, actually.
Mervin: *scowls greatly*
a deafening cacophony that tore at his mind, threatening the concentration needed to work his Art.
Mervin: (Nameless Wizard Who Is Quite Obviously Harry): Goddammit, I am trying to paint here—do you know how much concentration is required to work with pastels in this light?!
The shadow creatures had come in force and unexpectedly,
Sands: *laughs—a lot*
Mervin: *continues her scowling*
but their tactics were not those of an occupying army, nor of bandit raiders.
Sands: Yeah, they just turned off the lights—shadow creatures tended to do that.
The creatures were searching for something, and the wizard with tattooed
Mervin: —skin because, like, tattoos make you totally manly and draw attention away from the fact that you’ve never touched a woman, make the saints cry, and have a penis the size of a shelled peanut—
arcs of power running over his head would be damned if he would let them have it.
Mervin: (Nameless Wizard Who Is Obviously Harry): As if I’d give you my D&D deck—years of work building it up to be the greatest set ever shall now assist me in warding off your pathetic attacks! Role for initiative!
Sorry, had to bring in a little Penny-Arcade while I was at it.
There was a sudden lull in the fighting; the shadows broke away from the wizard, swirling to the edges of the town square like leaves in the autumn wind.
Sands: (Shadows): We’re going home—it’s not fun anymore.
They were waiting for something. The wizard steeled himself and gritted his teeth while he
Sands: —diligently bent over and grabbed his ankles while Halcyon cackled behind him with a Keyboard—
Mervin: So wrong, but SO accurate.
Sands: Why, thank you. I do try.
invoked potent spells of protection. Shadows thrown by burning farmsteads danced madly across the green,
Mervin: …green? I never heard about anything that was green.
Sands: Maybe it’s his eyes? They’re green.
Mervin: Quiet—we’re not supposed to know it’s Harry having a prophetic dream about his own awesomeness.
slowly coming together and merging into an inky black pool.
The pool of shadow rose up, resolving into a gaunt, humanoid figure taller than the houses of West Harbor.
Mervin: (Shadow): Now you shall deal with me, oh Prince, and all the powers of HELL!!!
Sands: Three cheers for the sexiest Disney villain ever.
Mervin: HOW DO YOU KNOW ABOUT THIS STUFF???!!!!
An air of icy malevolence,
Mervin: Dude, it is Maleficent!
Sands: Well, then this wanker doesn’t have a chance—he’s too good for Fairy Godparents, after all.
Mervin: I look forward to it.
the charnel stink
Mervin: *mockingly* Ooooo—check it out, Sands, Halcyon can use Thesaurus.com.
Sands: How impressive. I’m gonna drink now.
of an open grave
Mervin: The funk of forty thousand years!
on a winter morning,
Sands: *snorts* Winter morning? Oh, please. Everyone knows that the time an open grave is a bad thing is the summer. Ever smelled an open grave in the summer? Or left a body in your trunk for two days in summer—Mexico’s summer, I might add?
hung about the creature as it turned its burning eyes to the wizard.
Mervin: If that’s a balrog, I’m officially out.
There was no sound as the creature struck – no roar of challenge, no hiss of breath, even the crunch of feet on grass.
Sands: In other words, it was very boring.
Mervin: Only 2001: A Space Odyssey could get away with muting the movie, Mister. You are not Stanley Kubrick, so you aren’t allowed to mute your fic. Stop that immediately.
Blades of pure, black shadow melted from the giant’s hands, formed out of the nothingness of the Plane of Shadow.
Sands: It’s Freddy Krueger!
Mervin: *snarling* And if you’re not careful, he’s gonna show up and emulsify your sorry ass! Stop doing that!
That blade arced toward the wizard’s head in a strike swifter than a snakebite,
Mervin: *raised eyebrow* I wasn’t aware that snakebites were very fast. Actually, I thought they were fairly stationary.
Sands: Yeah—look at Snape.
Mervin: You know, I wouldn’t bring that up with him.
Sands: I’m trying to decide if pissing him off that much would better or worsen my chances of getting under his robes.
Mervin: *doesn’t even bother*
only to strike hard and rebound from a sword of glittering silver.
Sands: Excellent. Let’s give Harry more specialty D&D items. He already owns everything needed to be virtually invincible, after all.
Mervin: Nothing worse than a cheat-code wielding gamer who wants to parade about through a fanon universe and get revenge upon all those who wronged him through writing.
The wizard’s blade shone like moonlight and rippled as though it were made from liquid mercury.
Mervin: I really don’t think a melting sword is very effective. And isn’t mercury, you know, always liquid?
Sands: Nah, it’s just a metaphor. Look—his sword is going limp. Eh, eh? You read Chaucer, right?
Mervin: *sighs* Either way, Sands, it’s just Halcyon playing the game. Hell, he was probably playing it as he wrote this, and just basing it off of what he was doing.
The shadows shrieked and recoiled from its light.
Mervin: (Shadows): Oh my GAWD, it’s so TACKY!
Even the shadowy giant seemed taken aback by the blade,
Sands: Taken aback, as in it was thinking, “Um, what was that supposed to do?”
and the wizard took advantage of the opportunity to launch a vicious counterattack.
Mervin: And so he began to dance!
Sands: Sing, more likely—I’m sure his cracking voice and hideously off-tune notes will make any creature, no matter how vile, shrivel up and die within three bars.
Violet sparks flashed where the blades connected, and the battle began in earnest,
Sands: The battle of the fruits, apparently.
Mervin: Now, now, Sands—don’t insult gay people by trying to drag them into this. They deserve better.
dancing silver clashing with shifting black.
Mervin: Purple-prose versus showing-off text.
Arcane fire seared the night,
Sands: Well, call out the Arcane fire brigade!
only to be absorbed by absolute emptiness of the shadowy giant’s form. Wizard and creature dueled across the breadth of the charred remains of the village,
Sands: I always loved shows and movies that did shit like this. The village has been razed, Harry doesn’t know if there are any survivors, but he’s gonna stomp all over it in his effort to kill whatever this thing is (don’t know the canon that well, but I really, really doubt that’s Voldemort—he was resorted to the “Things to Do When I Have the Time” list Harry looks back on every once in a while in the “Ancient’s Story”) and kill any survivors there.
Mervin: It’s for the greater good, after all. The mighty Pickleman agrees. By the way, I’m fairly positive he’s talking about the King of Shadows.
neither able to gain the advantage.
Sands: Well, then they both suck. Come on, Halcyon—pull out a cheat code already and end this mess!
As the tide of battle carried them towards the western edge of the green,
Mervin: There it is again! Where the hell is there supposed to be green?! It’s winter! Is he referring to a golf course, or something?!
Sands: If that’s it, I hope Harry has Tiger Woods in his deck.
a single sound rose out of the din of battle:
Mervin: And then the word battle picked up its skirts and ran away, tired of being so over-used.
a high, reedy noise, the unmistakable cry of
Mervin: —canon. “No more!” it wailed miserably.
an infant. For just a heartbeat’s time, the wizard’s eyes broke away from his opponent, darting across the chaos of the battlefield to find the source of the cry. There – a mother and her child,
Mervin: —conveniently alive and unharmed so Harry can have a distraction and then somehow come back and save the day!
crouched behind the half-smashed rubble of what had once been the village headman’s home.
Sands: And Harry is probably the one who killed the headman in his heroic battle of the big giant shadow. Well done.
The mother’s eyes, wide and bright with terrified grief, met the wizards’s in a silent plea for help.
Mervin: (Pointless Lady): Would you mind stopping your battle with that big thing and help me put out the fire in my house?
Sands: What the hell did she think he was doing?! He is helping, you stupid bint! He’s trying to kill this thing so it’ll stop eating your village! Dumb bitch.
It was only a moment, a brief instant of human contact in the midst of a duel to the death.
Mervin: What’s this? Ha! As if I’d believe that, Halcyon—all your characters have no regard for human life, so long as they get their way and look good doing it. You’re just doing this for drama and I know it.
But it was too long.
Sands: *scoffs* There’s no such thing as too long!
The shadowy giant’s blade struck so swiftly it scarcely seemed to cross the intervening space. The wizard desperately brought the silver sword up in a parry, but his focus had been shaken.
Mervin: So, let me get this straight, Halcyon. It’s not a flaw when your version of Harry shows a tiny bit of compassion for human life and concern for a baby’s survival, but the real Harry is an idiot because he shows compassion for human life and concern for basically everyone’s survival?
Sands: The difference being this version of Harry was “created” by the author, which makes him automatically better, as the author is the greatest author to ever live and you will bow before him and his skill and review him accordingly or there will be whippings, damn you.
Mervin: Well, good to get that cleared up, anyway. *sighs irritably*
Bereft of the focusing power of the mage’s will, the silver sword began to crack, jagged lines of light spider-webbing across its surface.
Mervin: Oh, great, now he’s bringing Spider-Man into his fic—as if he needs more super-powers and fandoms! Leave Peter Parker alone, he’s my second favorite super-hero!
Sands: Who’s the first?
Mervin: Nananananananana-Nananananananana—BATMAN!
The wizard desperately poured his arcane power into the blade, but to no avail.
Sands: (Harry): Noooo!!! I accidentally typed “dm_dog” instead of “dm_god!” DAMN YOU, DYSLEXIA!!! *is smote*
The shadow giant’s eyes glowed with triumph as the silver sword shattered into a dozen pieces, its pure, clear light winking out like a snuffed candle.
Mervin: Harry, your staff is broken. Grima, get in there and slit this bastard’s throat.
The force of the blow was also such that the pieces were sent flying in every direction. In the silence that followed, the child wailed.
Sands: Ah yes, and there’s another cliché that Halcyon wanted to use—it’s always the crying baby, to emphasize loss. *would roll his eyes, but…you know*
However, it seemed that there would be a consequence to the sword’s destruction…
Mervin: Yeah, you have to start the level over. Hope you saved, Harry.
at the exact spot where the sword was destroyed an unearthly bright light sprang into existence.
Sands: (White Light): This is God. I’ve reviewed it with a committee, and I’m going to incinerate this fic for the good of the Universe.
The shadowy giant was distracted from his satisfied perusal of the fallen wizard’s form
Sands: Aww, hell—Necromancy does not mean necrophilia, you sick fuck.
Mervin: *is appalled*
as the light expanded in brilliance over a thousandfold.
Sands: The birth of a sun is always a nice thing to hear about, isn’t it?
Mervin: I think it’s nice to watch, personally.
Sands: *bites*
Then it expanded in a massive implosion and subsequent explosion of power and force that blinded every single fighter still standing on the battlefield,
Mervin: Huh—he really did cast magic missile at the darkness.
Sands: I didn’t know you could even do that.
it’s strength was such that it lifted those closest to it in the air and flung them about as if slung from a catapult and the world was consumed with white light…
Mervin: Uh, did Harry just nuke Neverwinter?
Sands: I really think he did. Good riddance.
…the dream ended, Harry Potter sat up in his tangled bedsheets with a gasp of air, his hand darting towards his
Sands: *opens his mouth*
Mervin: NO.
quarterstaff
Sands: *smug*
Mervin: Dammit.
automatically from where it leaned against the head of his bedframe. Intelligence and reason returned to him
Sands: “Returned” implies he ever had any.
a moment after his calloused hand
Mervin: Oh, so his hand is mean, huh? Do you any idea how much I hate that??!!
closed around the comforting weight of the weapon.
Mervin: Well. I see he didn’t waste any time with the whole, “I’m only comfortable if I have my weapons with me to provide me with an advantage over all I survey” credo he’s so very fond of.
Sands: There is nothing wrong with feeling uncomfortable without a gun.
Mervin: I don’t see how you feel comfortable at all with where you tend to store your guns.
Sands: Once they warm up, the rubbing is actually quite pleasant.
His hand retreated from the staff and wiped the cold sweat that the nightmare had seen fit to deposit on him.
Sands: Ahahaha—I could say so much about that right there.
Mervin: You could, but you won’t.
He flung his covers off and
Sands: —the cold air immediately made his wang retreat to the warmth of his asshole.
Mervin: *stonily* Speaking from experience, are we?
Sands: *smacks her*
stood to grab a cloth from the washpan on his study desk and run it over his exposed torso as well.
Mervin: “As well?” What was he running it over before?
Sands: His dick.
Mervin: *wryly* How straightforward you are.
Sands: It’s the best approach, really.
It was one accustomed to toil and strain from farm work, hunting and the training his foster father had given him.
Sands: And his ass was accustomed to the regular spankings his foster father had given him, as well as the regular—
Mervin: I think you’ve said quite enough, Sands.
Satisfied that he was dry as he could get
Sands: Don’t let that thing air-dry, you idiot! Shrinkage!
despite the damp air of West Harbor he headed over to his chest, which
Mervin: —he kept separate from the rest of his body so he could admire its manliness.
contained most of his clothes.
Since it was the day of the Fair he decided to go about dressed as the wizard that he was.
Mervin: Pah—he’d dress like that anyway, just to show off and cow people into doing whatever he wants.
Sands: He’s like alcoholics who only drink to things like, say, lint.
He put on dark purple trousers
Sands: *lisping* He’s not just any wizard, mind—he’s fabulous!
with durable calf length leather boots, and after a white undertunic he took the ornate purple half-robes and fastened them around him.
Mervin: Purple really isn’t your color, Harry.
Sands: Draco thinks so.
The half-robes were called as such because they were
Mervin: —a little Liberace cape the Pumaman would be envious of.
open to the front of the legs,
Mervin: Pardon me?
Sands: I think he’s saying it has a flap for easy access.
allowing much more ease of moment than the more traditional full robes the wizards in the city tended to wear.
Mervin: Ah, in other words, he’s doing it so he can stand out from the rest of them, because, after all, he’s paranoid and thinks he has to be ready for battle at a moment’s notice at all times.
Harry’s half-robes were very nicely tailored, with ornate patterns on them written in Elvish;
Sands: One of them, for instance, said, “Live Long and Prosper.”
they were a gift from Harry’s master of the Arcane, the wizard Tarmas, for having completed his novitiate training and gaining
Mervin: —a nice wimple for his efforts.
the title of Journeyman,
Sands: *flatly* Journeyman.
Mervin: Yeah…Halcyon feels the need to give all of his characters titles, whether they be original or made up (which actually has yet to happen—I haven’t seen an original character of his that isn’t in some way based off of someone else’s characters). Harold the Lost for “Banished,” Harold the Black for “Sanctuary of Arda,” Druidess Padraigin for Rose Potter, Ambassador Harry for “An Ancient’s Story…” It makes him feel important.
Sands: Well, here’s Halcyon’s title: “Scrotal Rash.”
on his eighteenth birthday. That was barely three days ago.
He tucked and straightened his clothes and after tying his long black hair together
Sands: Together? He tied his hair together? How many wigs does he wear at a time?
Mervin: He also really likes his characters to have long hair—I think it’s a Fruedian thing. Looks like we’re settling into a typical Halcyon fic. *yawns*
proceeded to head out of his room and into the main living area.
It was there that he found his foster father,
Sands: Oh. It’s him. What’s new in the hollow tree, ya freak?
staring contemplatively into the fire from the hearth.
Mervin: He’s staring at the fire from the hearth?! Isn’t that dangerous?
Sands: I say he stays there. Let’s baste him.
“Ah, you’re up and dressed I see,” said Daeghun solemnly, turning to face Harry.
Mervin: Since Harry waking up and getting dressed in the morning is such a solemn event, after all.
Sands: Nah—facing Harry is a solemn event. It means you have to look at him. That’s pretty damned somber.
“Good morning, father,” greeted Harry with a nod, it was always odd to him to have to look down to Daeghun,
Sands: —seeing as Daeghun usually had Harry on his knees instead—
Mervin: Don’t say that, because the author gets off on having his characters look down at everybody.
Sands: Actually, I think that makes my comment all the better.
despite the fact that he towered over his father, the old elf could easily trounce anyone he fought hand to hand with.
Sands: What about cock to cock?
Mervin: I don’t think anybody in this fic could win that.
Sands: Then it’s a sure victory for me! I’m all for it.
Mervin: Some victory—don’t you think that’s a little unfair?
Sands: Perhaps you don’t remember my speech about the matador and the bull.
Mervin: Yeah, yeah, whatever. Either way, the run-ons are about to smother me.
“With today, being the day of the Fair,
Mervin: The Fair of Unnecessary and Excessive Commas, perhaps?
the Village council requires me to man the archery competition,” said Daeghun,
Sands: Maid Marian will be so pleased. So will I, if she’s there. Rawr—foxy lady.
Mervin: …I think I may have to kill you for that.
Sands: Please do—I’d rather be dead than spork one more fic with you.
Mervin: Well, then, I’ll keep you alive and keep throwing fics at you. But I won’t throw you in the briar patch. And if you don’t shape up, I won’t bring you around when Snape’s back.
though it was hard for anyone who didn’t
Sands: —have more than a few braincells—
know him, Harry could hear the irritation veiled in the tone of his father’s speech.
Mervin: Look, none of Halcyon’s characters, canon or no, ever bother to “veil” their irritation. They let it out in great waves of arrogance and huffiness and exaggerated, “GAWD, YOU ALL ARE SO INFERIOR AND I’M SO MUCH BETTER.”
Clearly standing around all day,
Sands: As opposed to foggily standing around all day, I guess.
watching people make a mockery of the art of Archery did not appeal to the Wood Elf.
Sands: *sneers* And yet, you wish to remain modest. Bravo. Well done indeed.
Mervin: Well, Farlong, if you’re so much better than everyone else at Archery, why don’t you just say you were off communing with nature that day, and spare us this show of exasperation? No one would miss you, if this is how you normally act.
“The human need to celebrate remembrance days baffles me,” he said with a grumble,
Mervin: That’s because you aren’t human, you little dipshit. We don’t get to cavort about for all time and steal babies.
Sands: If it baffles him so much, why doesn’t he just ask, instead of immediately deeming it stupid and below him and stand around telling everybody how much they suck and how he’s better?
“but something productive may come of it, the merchant Galen has come because of it, and he’ll want my stock of furs.”
Mervin: In other words, he’s not only an arrogant little sawed-off lizard, he’s also a selfish, arrogant, sawed-off lizard. That’s just peachy.
“I’ll try to negotiate a fair price,” stated Harry with a sigh,
Sands: Look—it’s another selfish, arrogant, sawed-off lizard.
Mervin: I vote we just throw red paint on him and his furs—just for the hell of it.
Sands: I tend to agree—claiming to be more in tune with nature than us nature-destroying, animal-killing humans and then parading about with armfuls of fur and wearing leather chaps every day doesn’t really fly with me.
Galen was really the only Merchant worth the title
Mervin: WHY ARE THESE PEOPLE THE GREAT AND POWERFUL JUDGES OF ALL TRADES?
Sands: Because they are, by default, Halcyon, and he is God. Smackdown on you, bitch.
Mervin: I’m so enlightened.
who made the trade run between the City of Neverwinter, West Harbor and everything in between. But the man was as thrifty as a Rogue,
Sands: Yeah—that’s the way you get ahead in the Merchant trade.
and it was a near constant battle with him to get reasonable
Mervin: —head—
Sands: Why, Mervin, I’m proud of you.
fair prices for the furs that Daeghun hunted and produced
Sands: Now that’s something I simply don’t approve of—hunting furries is wrong. And it’s even more wrong that he first hunts and kills them, then goes out and advocates them and converts more so he can hunt them, too.
Mervin: Relax, he’s not hunting furries. It’s just Halcyon assuming that “furs” and “animals” are interchangeable words.
Sands: I know. It’s called sarcasm.
(Harry helped occasionally when his studies permitted).
Mervin: (Halcyon!Harry): Yes, father, I’ll help you as soon as I am done showing everyone what worms they are.
“We won’t have to worry about that, this season,” said Daeghun, shaking his head.
Sands: (Halcyon!Daeghun): Why, you’ve advanced so far in your “studies” I’m sure you can force him to give you double the price by just flashing your eyes angrily at him!
Mervin: I tend to think he’s gonna use all these excess commas as throwing stars and just kill him—like a ninja. Because, after all, I’m sure Harry here is some form of ninja.
“Last year I organized a straight trade. You give him the furs and he’ll give you
Sands: (Halcyon!Daeghun): —one hell of a good blowjob. If he thinks the furs are good enough, he’ll throw in an ass-wax while he’s at it.
Mervin: *turns green*
a Duskwood Bow.” Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. Duskwood Bows were technically illegal in the Kingdom of Neverwinter,
Sands: But Daeghun and Harry have the author on their side, and petty rules won’t stop him from doing whatever he wants.
since the wood they were made from came from an ancient forest that technically fell under the jurisdiction of the Luskan City State; sworn enemies of Neverwinter.
Mervin: Okay, so it’s illegal—why does he want it, why are they so illegal (is it like Cuban cigars in the US, does the wood have dangerous magical properties, what?), and what happens if he’s caught with it? You wanna explain that to us, Halcyon, or just throw it out there to show how badass your version of Daeghun is because he owns contraband?
Sands: I suspect the latter, myself.
Mervin: Sadly, so do I.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, my son, I have to go
Mervin: —potty.
and see to the Fair.”
Sands: Yes, since they just can’t survive without you. *spits in the general direction of the fic*
Daeghun gave Harry a brief half-hug and walked out of the small, but warm home that he had lived in for the past eighteen years.
Mervin: The general impression I’m getting is that Harry has been living in a hobbit hole for eighteen years (never mind that he just turned eighteen and was kidnapped at age one, and, if the author had had the ability to do simple subtraction, he would’ve written seventeen years). *scans ahead* Uh-oh. Time for a classic Halcyon infodump!
Sands: *puts on a pith helmet*
The interior was basic, and only a few portraits and luxuries gained from Daeghun’s own adventuring days littered the home. The most prominent of which was a portrait of a regal she-elf, that looked down from over the mantelpiece, Daeghun's late wife. Harry had never known a mother, neither his foster, nor his birthmother. At least according to Daeghun, his birthmother had died when he was barely a year old, and not six months later, the Battle of West Harbor claimed his fostermother. It almost made him think a curse was upon him, that any woman who claimed to be a mother to him, would meet death. It was an irrational thought, but it was there nonetheless.
Sands: *brightly* Thank you so much for that interlude! When do I get to tell a story? I’ve got some great ones that would provide excellent exposition about my tragic and extremely awesome life. In any case, they’d probably be more exciting than this dreck.
Mervin: *bitterly* I hate pointless infodumps! Why can’t we find this out through the course of the fic, instead of stopping all action and then telling us all about it?!
He walked out of the small house and into the sunny, yet damp day. West Harbor was a small village of about twenty-eight houses and farmsteads clustered together.
Sands: I get the impression that Halcyon is now typing out some descriptions he found in the walkthrough he downloaded off of the internet in order to win Neverwinter Nights 2 without trying.
Mervin: *indignantly* There is nothing wrong with walkthroughs and cheat codes! I should know, I use them all the time. What’s wrong with him using them here is because he seems to think that you don’t sacrifice any of the plot or tension when you use the things.
A small river flowed through the middle of it, that required a bridge to connect the two halves of the village together.
Mervin: Along with an unnecessary comma.
The swampy trees bordered the village in all directions, bar for the small road that led to the High Road
Sands: —which in turn leads to the Low Road, and I’ll be in Scotland afore ye—where I will hopefully lose you, because I don’t wanna see you again.
and the Mere of Dead Men
Sands: —where I pushed this asshat in and cackled madly as he drowned.
(aptly called that for it was the center of the Battle of West Harbor and the number of dead soldiers that was still festering in the muggy water was something nobody cared to speculate at).
Mervin: Well, I usually don’t speculate at things anyway.
Sands: Good God, I would not want to live there—the smell in the summer must be hideous, all those dead bodies rotting in the middle of a bog? Disgusting.
The village was alive with the sounds of people gathering, chatting, talking and of music being played by the local bards.
Mervin: Wait, when did we even get to the village?! Harry had just walked out the door to deliver his stunning monologue about the village! We didn’t hear anything about him walking to it!
It was as Harry approached the Bridge that his two best friends in the village intercepted him.
Sands: Best friends…locked on target…firing missiles!
Amy and Bevil.
Mervin: Who are so integral to the story that they require a separate fragment to announce them, despite the fact that, after this section, we pretty much forget about them.
Amy he had befriended as a young girl
Sands: *raises eyebrows before bursting into raucous laughter*
Mervin: *giggles inanely* Well, go Harry!
who had eventually joined him as an apprentice to Tarmas when it was discovered she had
Sands: —a vagina.
the capability to
Mervin: —make a decent sandwich.
become a
Sands: —midget.
mage. She was now an exuberant young woman who had a great gift for Transmutation.
Sands: See? I was right.
Mervin: You were not.
Bevill on the other hand was the eldest son to the Starling family,
Sands: As opposed to the Sparrow family. *puffs up*
Mervin: I know where you’re going with that, Sands, and I’m stepping on you right now.
the ‘richest’ farmers in the Village.
Sands: Let’s douse him with red paint and hope he gets eaten by a monster.
He, however, had no interest in tending to tilled fields,
Mervin: I read that wrong and though it said “titted” fields.
Sands: Where can I get me some titted fields?!
but had picked up the blade and learned it well,
Mervin: Meaning he’s an experienced emo with the ultimate MySpace page?
getting instruction from Daeghun
Mervin: *grumpily* What makes him so great, anyway?
Sands: The author thinks he’s great because he’s immortal, so he is.
Mervin: Halcyon would be perfectly fine with his own personal Horcrux, I think. I mean, sure, he’d have to kill someone to do it, but hey! It’s for his own personal greater good!
and anybody else in the village who had any skill to impart.
Mervin: Meaning Harry.
Word was he was trying to convince his mother to
Sands: *coughs*
Mervin: NO.
allow him to join one of the Neverwinter City armies.
Mervin: Aaaaand I’m gonna skip this next part. It’s boring, it basically proves that Harry’s “declaration that he was a wizard” by wearing those fruity clothes was just him dressing up to role play for some kind of RenFest, and just more awkward dialogue about a) how great Harry is, b) how these two people think Harry is so great, c) how Harry’s mentor thinks Harry is so great and how much the other two suck and should try to be more like Harry, and d) how great Harry thinks Harry is and how much everybody else sucks. They’re going on about some kind of Harvest Cup, and how everyone wants to compete. There’s mention of blight on the crops, and Harry brings up druids (*snarls and foams out of sheer principle*). However, from what I can tell? It doesn’t have any bearing whatsoever on the story other than to emphasize the above mentioned A-D, because he doesn’t even show the Fair. The scene ends awkwardly and abruptly, and suddenly we’re back in London. It’s like Halcyon decided to write it later, like some people do, but then just forgot to do it in the first place. I’m not complaining, though—I know what it would’ve been like. Here, I’ll write in a small, summed-up scene for Halcyon, since he couldn’t be bothered to do it.
Harry: Man, they suck. Of course, everybody sucks compared to me, though—I should give them a break. I win.
There! That’s what the Fair would’ve been like, had Halcyon decided to write it. So, other than foreshadowing disease to the land of Neverwinter, this scene was pretty much pointless. Moving on.
30th July, 1991, Realm of Earth. England, London
Sands: Wait, wait, wait—read that again.
Mervin: *does so* What is it?
Sands: *scratches his stubble* July 30th—didn’t Halcyon say Harry’s birthday had been a few days ago?
Mervin: *blinks* Huh. Harry turned eighteen before it happened. That’s pretty damned impressive. Not to mention that England is apparently a town in the country of London.
Sands: *assumes the arrogant voice of the author—which isn’t too much different from his normal arrogant voice, really* Duh, Mervin—I already explained that in chapter one. “Time behaves differently across the planes.” Because you forgot the previous tidbits of information that I deigned to bestow upon your lesser mind, you have no right to criticize my story.
Mervin: I’m sorry to say that you’re probably right. He would say that. But Halcyon? “Time behaves differently across the planes” is nothing more than a deux ex machine to cover up your mistakes in the time line, as well as making Harry fully-grown and completely mature so he’s slightly more realistic as a mad-crazy uber-warrior and supergenius at eighteen rather than age ten (as he usually is in your stories) when he goes and shows off how great he is at solving mysteries at Hogwarts.
The massive hustle and bustle of early morning rush hour in the London Underground was a cacophony unlike anything they had ever heard.
Mervin: And I’d like to step in and say that’s probably the best sentence I’ve ever seen Halcyon write so far. I would say well done, but, knowing him, he probably stole it. So I’ll say well done to whoever wrote that.
The sheer size and scope of the city made Neverwinter seem like a country hamlet.
Sands: Why not a country riblet?
Mervin: I should smack you for that, and I would if I wasn’t thinking “spiral-cut country hamlet” myself.
The mechanical craftsmanship on display would be enough to baffle even the cleverest of dwarven smiths,
Sands: Aww, damn, now I have the image of Harry as Ash from Army of Darkness, chin and all, marching up to the dwarves with a chainsaw and a shotgun. “This is my BOOMSTICK!!!”
Mervin: Yeah, except his condescension wouldn’t be funny at all—it’d be annoying and make me want to let one of those fake Necronomicons eat him.
as the conveyances that carried people headed back and forth. The dress of the people was strange, minimal yet practical,
Mervin: YOU KNOW, THERE ARE SOME WOMEN WHO LIKE TO WEAR MORE THAN JUST THE MINIMUM REQUIREMENT.
Sands: Well, they aren’t worth mentioning—not when there are boobies.
and very intricate that no weaver could hope to match.
Mervin: In other words, Harry really should’ve grown up here because he wouldn’t have to wear fifty layers of purple robes in order to look dignified.
The bright-multicolored lights advertising everything from merchant wares to the latest entertainment offerings
Sands: PORN!!!
were dazzling.
Sands: Well, here’s to hoping that Harry has epilepsy.
High in the sky overhead flew more mechanical conveyances, carrying people at even greater speed.
Sands: Oh, are they? And how would you know what an airplane is carrying, Harry? How would you even know an airplane is a mode of transportation?! You’ve been campaigning in WoW for 18 years!
The city was like a bustling organism and three of the people in it clearly did not look like they belonged within it.
Mervin: Excellent of you to point that out, Halcyon! That’s my cue to kick them out. *does so* Get out, and don’t come back—this canon doesn’t need you, nor does it want you.
Yet no one took cognizance
Mervin: *drums fingers* Halcyon, a verb is a verb, an adjective is an adjective, a noun is a noun, and an adverb is an adverb. They are not interchangeable, no matter how smart you think it makes you look.
of the three hooded and cloaked figures standing off to one side of the Underground station platform.
Sands: —plotting how they were going to kill every last one of these worthless, useless Muggles.
If anyone tried to get a good look though, they would simply find their eyes sliding over them, unable to focus properly.
Sands: For once, I consider myself lucky that I can’t see them.
Mervin: And for once, I envy you and your sightlessness.
If one was to see them, they would see the tallest of the three figures hugging a smaller, clearly female figure to himself...
Mervin: OH BOY. Look, it’s the obligatory love interest. *sighs* I’ll wait until this little bitch is formally introduced before going on my rant of what is wrong with every last one of Halcyon’s obligatory love interests.
Sands: Thank you. I don’t think I could take another one of your rants without more tequila in my veins.
whilst the remaining cloaked figure simply stood to one side; and who seemed more at ease with the situation.
Sands: Knock it off, you pustule—you ain’t from around here, don’t act like you know how it works.
“Sharing your
Mervin: —bed—
memories of this place hardly seems adequate preparation for the true experience of it,” said the taller of the pair that was hugging each other.
Mervin: Well, they can stop hugging each other now, because I’m getting tired of hearing about it.
The sound of the bustling station did not seem to bother them for some reason, maybe it was because no sound reached them.
Sands: Well, maybe! Unfortunately, we just don’t know—because the author won’t tell us.
Mervin: Halcyon believes firmly that what you don’t know doesn’t hurt you!
Sands: *pushes his shades down* Uh, yeah—it does.
“It is quite overwhelming,” agreed the hooded
Sands: —monster?
man. “No amount of words or pale shades of memories can prepare you for the nature of this place.
Mervin: Unfortunately, “this place” has nothing to do with where you guys are supposed to be going, so why are we taking so much time to look at it?
Man has advanced himself greatly here, primarily by exploring and understanding the physical laws of the Universe,
Mervin: Not to mention snacks! Mmm…Twinkies…
and adapting machinery to take advantage of that.
Sands: In short, my arsenal I have stored under my bed could turn you pathetic little cocksuckers into hamburger before you could even throw your twenty-sided dice down to cast Magic Missile.
It’s actually a form of the Arcane in its own right…the word for it is,
Sands: —prostitution.
technology.”
“And yet, Nature still exists, how can this be?” asked a female voice from the smaller of the hugging pair.
Mervin: …how dumb are you, exactly?
Sands: If she starts going on about how we need to save the spotted owl, I’m plugging her, right here and now.
“It is only within the cities where the land is tamed to Man’s will, outside of them, Nature still holds sway…
Sands: This is really stupid.
Mervin: Oh, you noticed, hmm?
Sands: Yes, but I thought perhaps you hadn’t. Just checking.
it’s a precarious balance that exists on this Plane and is constantly shifting, but come…we must be on our way, Harry.”
Mervin: Good people. Now, just what is your way, exactly? I’m still completely in the dark as to where you are going, why you are going there, and what you plan to do once you get there.
“Very well,” said Harry and the three walked forward towards an arriving train that was stopping. They waited for the surge of disembarking passengers to get out and walked into the carriage. Harry immediately claimed two seats,
Mervin: (Harry): *chucks a little old lady into the aisle* Beat it, you dried up old prune, my hot and sexy companion needs to sit down. *pushes a little kid onto the floor* And you gotta make way for my grand and glorious ass—kiss it while you’re down there, why don’t you?
for himself and his companion. Daeghun merely stood opposite them, holding onto a flexible handle
Sands: Whoa, hey, not in public! There is a time and place for everything, your SEP field notwithstanding.
dangling from above.
Sands: (KingKong): I’m too good for these seats.
“How are you doing, Elanee?”
Mervin: Terrible. I don’t care if she’s canon, I hate her already.
“It is getting manageable,” said the druidess beside him shakily. “The muteness of the land is something that is like the sudden absence of music after a lifetime of constantly hearing the melody. It was painful at first, but…I’m fine.”
“You sure?” he asked in concern, hugging her tighter.
Sands: STOP THAT. It’s VERY annoying.
“Yes,” she said softly, “your presence also helps.”
Mervin: And just how does it help? Ever gonna explain that?
Sands: No, he’s not—and thank God for that, because if he had, I’m sure he would’ve gone on and on and on about how it’s because he and Elanee have some kind of soul bond and she must take comfort in his beefy, manly strength.
They spent fifteen minutes on the train
Sands: —reenacting the subway scene from Risky Business.
before Daeghun announced it was time to get off.
Mervin: (Daeghun): *caterwauling* Stop the world—I want to get off!!!
They awkwardly had to thread themselves through the crowded carriage towards the doors and finally disembarked after the train came to a sudden jerking stop.
Mervin: Meaning he announced it was time to get off before the train had stopped?
Elanee felt she could manage enough so that they only needed to hold hands as they walked.
Sands: WHY?
Mervin: You already said it was better if he didn’t explain—why ask now?
Sands: Even I can grow tired of this author’s constant throwing of things out there with no explanation—I am sick of him expecting me to just accept it. That’s like asking me to take it up the ass—ain’t gonna happen.
Mervin: Not even if it’s Snape?
Sands: Especially not if it’s Snape. I’d never hear the end of it.
Mervin: No, you’d be at the end of it.
Sands: Oh, shut up, pin-tits.
And because I’m a notoriously wordy sporker, I had to break the chapter up into two parts because it was getting too long. Part Two coming soon of a very special chapter—special, in that I want to kill something after I’m done reading it.
