The Villains

Falling in a bathtub

Valdis was not an easily bored elf. 

But she was verrry bored right now

Today was a criterion reviewing, meaning we evaluate the chosen humans for placement in Eslyian.

And it takes hours.

And days.

And weeks. 

It is very boring. And so Valdis had begun to drown out Fintan's voice as he came to check progress. "VALDIS!" the pyroketnic yelled. Valdis startled, almost falling out of her chair. "So sorry sir, it won't happen again!" she apologized. "It better not." Always a charming elf, that Fintan. Wonder what would happen if-  "Stop daydreaming and continue screening the humans, would you?" "sorry, sorry."

Valdis got back to screening humans, trying no to doze off. After 3 more hours, she finished, a very tired look pasted on her face. She exited the room, grabbing a cup of black coffee, and scowling as it spilled onto her hand. Bloody lid.  Afterwards, she made her way to Gisela's study, holding her coffee in one hand, and the human files in the other. 

Gisela was pleased-ish. She was pissed that she STILL hadn't secured Bronte's cache. I offered to get it for her. "I have time!" I said, desperately needing out of the suffocating hideout. "You know what? Why not. Have fun." she said, dryly. "I'll get it! See you!" I yelled back as I ran out of the room to get equipment. 

Equipped with a standard mission kit, a neverseen mask, cloak, and my weapons, I got to the Lodstar spinner, and dialed Bronte's castle. I appeared in his bathtub.

It would have been incredibly awkward if he was home.

Getting up, and cringing as she realized her arm was probably broken from that fall, Valdis steadied herself against a metal shower curtain rod. She exited the bathroom, and went ustairs to the famous councilours bedroom. It was grey. Everything in it was grey. It kind of sucked. On the mantle, there was a photo, old and clipped. It was Fintan and Bronte, snuggling in a theatre. They had some sort of medieval clothing on and were looking sooo much younger, and much more carefree. Valdis took a photo of it, and then backed away from the mantelpiece.

According to Gisela's instructions, there was a secret room connected to the bedroom. Valdis just needed to find out how to get in. She saw a slight tilt to the bookshelf, and when going to straiten it she found it slid away, revealing a dark yet somewhat illuminated doorway into a room. 

The room was everything the councilour wasn't. It was colorful, and vibrant, and oh- there was a pride flag and a snoring gremlin and an alicorn plushie and-

I feel the need to interrupt this so far cheerly story. For a warning. This is not a cheerful story. It is the story of a war, of blood, and lies. A story welded from everblaze and born from Nightfall. Proceed with caution.

Ohh this place was wonderful. It smelt like mallowmelt, and cinnacream. Both things Valdis had heard of but never tried. Both supposedly wonderful things, things she would never experience like freedom. Valdis would never be free, she could never be free. Slipping her hand into a astronauts helmet that had been painted gold, she pulled out the cache with a delighted smirk. She had it. Gisela would be sooo proud- and ohh gods he was home.

Bronte walked up to his bedroom, frowning at the sight of his open passage-way. He must have left it open, he thought. He hadn't cleaned that room in a bit, so he entered, sneezing at the abundance of dust. 

I heard Bronte coming up the stairs, and dove into a closet full of... cleaning supplies? A pile of Clorox wipes fell on my face. Ahh well, hiders can't be choosers. I scrambled to shut the door and held my breath, fists clenched, ready to take him on if he found me. 

He found me. With a sigh, he pulled open the door. And the look on his face when he saw me... it was ridiculous.

I startled, righting myself I threw all 80 pounds of me at him. He was still shocked, and fell over onto his rear. And then he inflicted. It hurt like HELL. 

Hurt like hell, a phrase that here means an overload of the parietal lobe. 

I punched him in the nose. And his nose broke. His inflicting slipped for long enough for me to scramble away, and with my cloak torn of, bolt out of the secret room and through the bedroom doorway. I tripped as I dashed down the stairs, and started tumbling down the flight of 50 stairs. I definitely broke several ribs, and probably popped my already broken arm out of the socket.  

The councilour had taken after me, but stopped at the stairs, yelling out to someone. I had no idea who it was until I tumbled into their waiting arms. Kicking and flailing, I strained against the goblin's tight, firm grip. I bit his arm. I managed to draw blood, but he didn't flinch, choosing to hold me still, rather than fight me like a normal person. 

And then I blacked out.

Well, that was a concerning end to this chapter. - SF