Short Stories of the Bratty Halfbat

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Short Stories of the Bratty Halfbat

Postby Lozen on Fri May 19, 2017 2:46 am

"Butt Cramps," Part 1...
based on Balard's Quit Message: (Quit: <Abby`> "Butt cramps makes good RP")


On a hot summer's eve, when it had been warm enough to sleep where you stood, comfortable and lazy, the strongest and mightiest were at their most irritable. Practicing routinely to keep above the rest of those wannabe-sport squirts, the bar is ever set higher for a stressed out Abby, pacing back and forth from the field of combat to the political arena. Either she is found fully decked in armor or behind a stand on the podium to announce her plans as Reeve. Doing stuff like, skull-bashing the idiots who cannot fathom how to count votes or striking a deal of blows with the numb-skulls that take pain like a daily vitamin. Enduring the hammering from weight of the promises to her supporters or wincing in anger and agony at the crack of her cap from the blow of a sledge. It was, is, and shall be for the first few days a strain in both mind and body. To learn what it means to be a Reeve and the duties that must be performed on top of the quest to rise those she mentors above the masses and flourish in the spotlight in the gladiatorial arena. The question is, how much of a pain in the ass was this year going to be?


On one eventful day, oh boy, here it comes, the worst stick in the butt she will ever have to tolerate...


"... But what does a Reeve do?" This, the newly elected Reeve, Abby has asked for the tenth time from a select number of Official Proprietors of Nanthalion.



A dark skinned moriel who chooses not to be named speaks Ominously and Purposefully to the Mercenary Leader, "The Reeve is an elected official serving the Nanthalion Citizens. They are the go-between person for the commoners and the nobles. They are essentially, the Mayor of the region. Their job is depicted as being one as a public servant and organizers to ensu-" Remember how nice, warm, relaxing this season is? The redhead nods her head and snaps upright before those fluttering lids shutters the waking light in her eyes. "-or worse. Professionalism in all capacities is expected of the Reeve in all matters. They are required to work with Temples, Imperial Guard, Shop Managers and Bazaar Marketplace to see to promotional events and things required by Nanthalion’s business leaders. A Reeve also ensures the morale and public opin-" The handsome lady, listening to this general ramble, gave a not so pretty snort and sighed while concluding in thought, '... But what do I do?'


Sometime later...


Sitting on her rump, with a forehead braced in the palm of her hand in the event she needs to run it down her face in frustration, she observes the past documentations that had been saved over the past Reeve's in office. Shuffling the papers about in disorder, as none appeared to have any relevance to what she sought, it took time to gather that none of the other Reeves personally did anything more than handle disputes between the nobility and the people that support her office. A lofty box with crumpled wax sheets spilling out had toppled to the floor. Inside, a glance of those emeralds held the 'Gift' from one such fan. When she first laid those green eyes upon the bunched threads of steel-mail, she had assumed to be a coif, but pulling the small assortment out, it turned out to be a pair, not hoods, but in fact swimwear. A Chainmail Bikini. Well, at least she had a paper weight for her stack of work-logs.


"Other than a few battles and a statue... Heh," there is a smirk, wary and worrisome trembling in the curt laugh, "I'm going to rock their world, aren't I?"
With that hinted statement of her ambition, a pen bleeds a scrawl of scribbling lines of the plans she has to set into motion, the work that will be done in the coming time enormous, and enough to set her as an exemplary note in history whether this pulls through or flops.


Aside from being a pencil pushing desk jockey, later that day is when the action really starts to heat up. It takes her a bit to wiggle her gracefully built figure into that block of iron frame, but when ready, she comes storming out into the field, all takers on, and beware the vent of her ink-stained mitts... Just one person stands at attention. A slight girl with black locks of hair smoothed back from a marshmallow complexion face full of mirth at the sight of her mentor. Holding onto a sword, short and light with mithril, ready for the day's sparring practice, and prepared to learn the lessons harshly if she has to from the red tank tutor.


Being flung from one extreme to the other like a ping-pong ball caused her to be strung out to the point her muscles creaked louder than her worn plates.
'When did I last sleep in a bed?' she wondered. A pinch between her eyes to massage the sinuses cuts off the vision of her pupil for a short second or two. Taking in a deep breath, "You will follow my example and perform this every day before we spar. Is that understood?"


A little Casper-girl nods an acknowledged and accepting head.


Abby begins her warm-ups, showing off what it took to prepare the body and mind to ease in the day's routine and faux duel. Limber in the arms and shoulders, rolling and turning with a sway of her hips, and plopping down to stretch for those toes...


-Crrkkhh!-


"..."
'That didn't sound too good,' the wide eyed Abby slow and gradually pulls up and away from her feet. A cricking noise had been felt more than heard from the lower half of her right buttocks. Letting out an audible, "Ha~," before bracing herself to stand upright. The score sent a tragic ripple of spasms up and around her jiggly butt cheek. Flaring her nostrils, straight faced, staring at the stark white girl, and nodding her acceptaince, "Alright, let's do this!"


Lozen, the Bratty Halfbat, having already mirrored her instructor's stretches, stood ready for combat. The combatants met, with Abby using only the finger of her gauntlets to poke down the cuts and swipes of the wingless chirot. It did take a minute or two for the both of them to settle. At once, both of them look almost like sisters, both having the pale complexion of an albino. Abby stands stock still until her student leaves for the day. Then... She limps, holding her behind, and calling for a healer to get their ass in here before she is expected to deliver some kind of speech like a stuffed hand puppet.



Part 2 coming soon...
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Re: Short Stories of the Bratty Halfbat

Postby The Mercenary Abby on Fri May 19, 2017 2:52 am

*LOLING IRL*

WHY.

How did a Quit Message lead to all of this??
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Re: Short Stories of the Bratty Halfbat

Postby Marena on Fri May 19, 2017 9:31 am

[[ That quit message makes me giggle each time. Great story, fun read, want more...! P.S. Marena is working on a water herb cure to be added to the Apothecary which will relieve excessive flatulence....just er....in case Abby or friends might need it *hides*]]
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Marena - "Take a breath, Rest your head....." https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ATjxh-pwlQ
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Re: Short Stories of the Bratty Halfbat

Postby Tehya on Fri May 19, 2017 2:57 pm

=D>
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Re: Short Stories of the Bratty Halfbat

Postby Lozen on Fri May 19, 2017 4:59 pm

"Butt Cramps," Part 2: Butt Hurt...


"Does that feel better?Would you like me to rub it to be sure it isn't still sore? The roughly four foot flinae pops her feet up off the floor to *POOF* into her foot long fluttering form to zip around the lower backside of Abby. A pair of itty-bitty hands go to grab those exposed pale moons before the redhead shimmies up those trousers and barks in alarm, "Hey!"


Recently, the mercenary Abby had been training a noble house recruit eager to become stronger, but in doing so, had injured herself in a most awkward spot from just doing a warm-up stretch. Below that firm right butt-cheek are tendons that attach hamstrings to a pretty awesome pelvis. Now, feeling that tight bundle contract into a cramped space, it would make her feel like all Abby needed to do was stretch out some more, and the more she did during that mock spar with her student. This... This didn't go very well.
You see, when it comes to this kind of butt cramp, those hamstrings like to ball up, protect itself from any further harm, and the more she would stretch it back out, the harder it fights and squeezes itself tighter into a knot avoiding any damage. So, by the time that match had ended, the redhead's skin had the complexion of an albino. She showed other sign of the agony jolting up her bum until Lozen left the field. Calling for a healer, she managed to get the fae Latanya's attention, and the couple set to working on realizing and remedying the Reeve's malady.



"You need to relax. Come on, lay back, take a load off your shoulders... No really, take that armor off, it isn't helping." With a flit here and there, the fae raps her knuckles on the steel and iron pauldrons and down breast plates for the effect of testing just how dense and heavy these shells were. A pause in mid-flight, fisting her sashaying hips, tilting that head and puffing out those cheeks, and then proceeds with a rhythmic tapping of her toes with one foot on the armor irritably until the warlord gets undressed. "I can heal it, but won't do any good until you settle down. It will come right back with a vengeance."


Groaning and sighing, the fight in Abby wimps out of her, and she shrugs out of the weighted outfit. Within minutes disrobing, the muscled and scarred body flashes in front of the chipper healer, the bunch in her rear did seem to find a bit of tranquility to ease her down onto a bench now. "Tred lightly then? Is that it?"


"Nawp! You need 'Ar En Ar'. You don't know it, but you are sick. Then the happy-go-lucky fairy does an Auctioneer's Chant, Bet'yaFiveMehrialFiveMehrialSheWon'tListenFiveMehrialSixSixGoingOnceGoingTwi- EEP! Abby flicks a long middle finger right up the rump of the quick-talking fae. Latanya scoots-scoots in the air and halts to turn about face and stick out her tongue before zipping away with the trail of her fading voice, "Next time, relax before you stick another stick up yoOUR-AHaHaHa!" She reaches flailing arms out and cuts through the air like a misfired missile. A redhead is never someone to be trifled with, let alone an Abby, as the fae's blithe warranted of such an example.
Wincing, bearing with it, Abby brakes and tugs down the tuck of her painfully rippling bun muscle. the damn tunic harshly over her stubborn redhead. Biting her lower lip and wheezing out a few last words slowly, "ffffFFFFFuuUUUccckkK mmmMMEEEeee haaarrd!" She shakes her head and limps on back to try on something less substantial but still considerably lofty for being the Reeve...



A couple hours later, away from the Arena, the newly Elected Reeve tenderly sets her ass down in a seat behind a ponderous desk of the Reeve's appointed Office of Delegations. Relaxing for the moment to pinch a velum to review the filed case, and raised a perplexed brow, "How the fu- Who told them my name was... Nevermind, I didn't get this memoir," she resolutely balls up the paper and tosses it off to scorch in a nearby fireplace.


A fiery sprite shakes its head after it was rudely pelted, sits up on the inflamed logs, takes a sizzling hold of the balled paper, and uncurls it before its fully consumed to read. 'To the Reeve, Abellie Bueldrift, a former candidate of the electoral race has been found in a troublesome scandal relating to two supplemental well wishing supporters, and...' ... Then the ashes fall from the little devilish fire-spirit's fingers. It burps black smoke, rubbing its tum, and lays back down to lazily burn down the firewood.



Prying another layer off of the stack of documents, Abby bends the corner so she can hold it aloof in the event it will be the next meal for the slothful dancing flame, but before a sentence could be read, "Hello? I- I'm Marena. They said I could come back when I have an 'Ah-Point Meant' and I do mean to make a point of this," a blonde with eyes of the tropic sea searches through a bulging pouch, taking random objects out to cradle in one arm, and eventually pulling from its containment an unraveling roll of dripping vomit-yellow seaweed. "It's called 'Lamb In Area' and I want to add it in the Apothecary's selection, but I need someone to test it on, and this little fairy mail-maid came to tell me about your butt hurtin-"


-SLAM-


An ornate chair with the collective history of many other Reeve's gracing their bottoms on that seat had flown back in the abrupt rise of the embarrassed current occupant. The towering stack of papers topple and fly about the desk and its surrounding carpet after the thunderous slap leaving a splintering impression at the base of Abby's shaking in fury.
"Oh-hohoho, when I get my hands on that little nymph, I'm gonna..." There is a silence between the human and the mermaid. It was much like a stand off. The two stared, wondering who was going to make the first move, the befuddled apprehension mounting in the one, and the painful suffering in the other. Finally, Abby's vibrant green eyes well up. The anguish in her face is plain to the simplest. Arcing her back, bracing a crossed arm down on the desk, and reaches behind to soothe a massage down the side of her buns of steel as the left now flares. With a blank, straight faced, silent understanding wide-eyed stare, Marena slowly approaches and stands firm in front of the abused desk. Then, projects a hand out, holding the floppy ribbon of laminaria, and offers it without word to Abby.


Part 3 coming sometime in the near future...
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Re: Short Stories of the Bratty Halfbat

Postby The Mercenary Abby on Wed May 24, 2017 6:06 pm

Considering the last few days, this story definitely perks me right back up xD

Re-reading it made me realize of some of the subtle touches on detail to the characters that made this scary good. But then I realize that as funny as this story is: I STILL can't believe it's all from ONE quit message xD
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