Writing The Xerxes Works (a bemused look at bards and their familiars)

[Godelsensei]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]Xerxes Xiloscient was not happy. As a matter of fact, the breadth and length of his unhappiness could have allowed one (had they been physical) to, quite easily, bridge the deepest and widest of chasms. Had his unhappiness been a ship, it would have enabled its crew to sail from one point on the Earth to another, with little or no reaction to waves. (However, one could also argue that his unhappiness? being a negative emotion would render whatever sea vessel it took the form of a long-neglected dinghy.)
But his emotions were neither ships nor bridges and, as it were, he was left with no more to do than brood.
Then, it started to rain, and he was left with nothing to do but brood and curse. Incidentally, he was extraordinarily proficient at both. So, he sat, brooding and cursing, in the rain, waiting to see if his brothers really would come back for him. Wait for us here, Xerxes. Don?t worry, Xerxes. He could see the foolish grins and dismissive waves in the back of his mind, and it irritated him fantastically.
He was unsure of how long he sat in the rain but, eventually, as they had said they would, his older and only two siblings came into view. The darkness and blur created by the falling droplets gave their entrance an eerie effect, making it seem almost as though they had materialized out of the woods. When creatures and things materialize, it is custom for them to strut about (or even float) in a mysterious, overbearing fashion, perhaps spouting a few tricky lines of poetry. Xerxes imagined that, between the two of them, they were incapable of performing either. What they were capable of did not matter to him a great deal at the moment; he was growing tired of the sogginess that had thoroughly overthrown his clothes and hair, and his only thought was to get somewhere dry. Or somewhere warm. Preferably somewhere both.
?Hey, Xerxes?you look some how malcontent.? His older-but-not-oldest brother was peering down at him in a curious, stupid fashion.
?Is that so?? Xerxes liked to imagine he was capable of creating a tone that dripped with sticky sarcasm. In truth, he ended up sounding nothing but whiney to the thread-bare reaches of extremity. His brothers were used to this, and had long-since given up on the notion that he would, one day, stop being (in spirit, anyhow) a sixteen-year-old human girl with pre-menstrual syndrome.
?Couldn?t you have made a lean-to or something?? His oldest, stupidest, most irritating brother was giving him a patronizing, disappointed look.
?No. I couldn?t have?why don?t you make one now??
?Because I don?t want to.?
?You could have at least gone inside until we got back; we wouldn?t have noticed. And if we had, we would have pretended not to.? His other brother?s voice was rich and sickly sweet with almost-maternal concern. How Xerxes loathed it. As a matter of fact, Xerxes loathed most things: his brothers were just at the top of the list. The only things he didn?t loath were music, emus, several exclusive and conservative foods, and his pet tortoise, Benjamin. ?Benjamin went inside. You should have listened to him. You?re going to die of pneumonia.?
?I?m not going inside.? After a heated, entirely valid (in Xerxes? eyes, anyway) argument, he had refused to set food inside their caravan that served as home.
?You are if I make you.? The other one was talking again. Not just talking, but slinging the cold, wet, angry Xerxes over his shoulders and carrying him to the door. When he protested, his brother simply stated, ?I?m not listening,? over and over, until the younger of the two gave up.

***

This is a stand-alone piece that I just did because I felt like getting the comical nature of these three little guys down on...screen. They're quite possibly my favourite characters that I've created (after Izumi, of course), and I think they disserve some recognition.
I plan to add a few more little snippets--whether or not they will relate to each other is yet to be determined.[/FONT][/COLOR]

[Shinmaru]

I really like this piece. It's nice to read something that's not so annoyingly overt with its humor (as is usually the norm around here, heh). I enjoy the use of metaphors, similies and wordplay employed to get the humor across - it's fun stuff. Certainly got more than a few laughs out of me (I laughed out loud, in case you were wondering). So, yes, not just amusing, but genuinely [i]funny[/i].

[Godelsensei]

[COLOR=Gray][FONT=Courier New]Glad to hear I achieved the effect I was reaching for. Anyway, here's the next installment: (I used some smarter, more visually appealing, spaceage in this one.^^")

***

It was a beautiful day by any mortal standard. Of course, being bereft of the ability to hold mortal standards in any kind of esteem, the figure standing at the city gate, trying to convince the guard that he was not a menace to the society enclosed, was in somewhat of an itchy, too-hot, and overall oppressively negative mood. He possessed no interest in the butterflies that landed here and there, or in the ants that crawled through the cracks in the dirt road; he took no notice of the scents of flowers or the twittering of birds. (The only sound he was really taking in was the grumbling of his stomach?as far as smells went, anything safely edible would have had the scent of the finest Elvish feast in the history of the Earth.) For what was not the first, and wouldn?t be the last, time in his life, Xeth Xiloscient wished he knew how to cook. However, the thought was fleeting: the guard had finally accepted the bullcrap the almost-somewhere-near-to-being-sly Elf had been feeding him for the past ten minutes (this was probably due to the fact that the guard?s Elven was spectacularly poor, however).

As the caravan, intact with empty cupboards, his younger brothers, and Benjamin the tortoise, rolled into the bubble of the city on its sturdy wheels, Xeth almost burst out laughing?it would be the last time this city let an Elvish caravan into its walls. He could almost hear the gentle tap of his oldest-but-still-younger-than-himself brother laying a hand on his swords? respective hilts; the gentle hum of whatever instrument the youngest of the three chose to put to work for the day would surely follow momentarily.

Xeth, Xerxes, and the other one weren?t merely hungry, dirty, and lacking in any ability to speak or comprehend the Common Tongue: they were also thirsty, smelly, sleepy, and anxious to create whatever havoc they deemed reasonable. (After all, they were still young, living the Elvish equivalent of their teenaged years. Incidentally, they had been exiled from their homeland due to some rather messy business involving fire and an astounding number of potatoes?nevertheless, their mother and father had always insisted they were proud. For humanity at large, this had turned out to be a very bad thing.)

Xeth, Xerxes, and the other one?s collective concept of what was reasonable being called anywhere near realistic would have been astoundingly akin to one?s referring to a cow-sprung fart as being overwhelmingly pleasant. (For the purpose of this simile, we will pretend that creatures that, in any way, resemble Orcs do not exist.)

It was several hours, and two-too-many-pints-of-beer later that they rode away, caravan packed with every form of plunder imaginable, bellies full of alcohol and the odd buffalo wing.

Indeed, what was left of the city was somewhere bordering appalling?within a few short hours, three guys in cloaks, wielding two swords, what must have been at least level-ten magic, and a harpsichord, respectively, had somehow managed to flatten most of the buildings, step on a cat, and down eighty percent of the establishment?s ale. The journalists in the immediate area, if no one else, were delighted.
?Um?Xeth, I hate to bring it up now, but I think there are several big men on horses following us with hatchets.? The middle brother, who had the reigns, was looking back, over his shoulder?the three, with their vast combined intelligence (along with the rest of the world), had yet to discover the wonder of rear-view mirrors.
Xeth leaned out the side of the fast-moving caravan, lips pursed ever-so-slightly. ?No?that one has a sword. And the one on the left is carrying a mace. The other two have spears. You were wrong.?
?I do believe you are missing the point entirely.? He drove the horses at the front on faster. ?My hands are full?would you be a dear and do something about those fellows behind us??
Xeth raised an eyebrow (his brother?s habit of being polite and endearing in all situations still confused him to no end) and replied with a half-hearted, ?Sure.? He yawned once before clambering around the contents of the caravan, until he was leaning halfway out the back.
He waved at them in a patronizing fashion, realizing almost too late that the one he hadn?t seen before had a bow. Irritated by almost being nicked in the arm, he pointed a steady (as steady as is possible in a caravan moving recklessly fast down a rocky, narrow path, anyway) finger at the offending human. His [the human?s] friends (Or were they simply allies? Did it matter?) were somewhat taken aback, to say the least, at his almost-immediate transformation into a cheesecake.
?Wouldn?t a frog have been more?you know??
?Conventional?? Xeth shrugged in his youngest brother?s general direction before taking care of the rest of their pursuers. The squirrels would feast tonight.[/FONT]
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[Cambrian_Explosion]

Now this is seriously good stuff. It's funny, smart (unlike some other threads; won't mention any names because I value my time on Earth), and easy to read. I really don't have much else to add. I did spot a spelling error near the end. Last sentence of the second to last paragraph. The elf [I]leans [/I] halfway out the back not [I]leaves[/I], otherwise you change the meaning completely.