Tempers Ball

OOC: Grab your magnifying glasses, dust off those raincoats, there is a murder to be solved! You are free to interrogate anyone you like, dig up witnesses, bury them..lots of fun.. (experimenting a bit..nice idea though, right?)


The moon was at it's fullest, yet icey winds from the east blocked it's radiancy with dark clouds. Down a narrow ally-way no one took notice of these meteorological movements, as Fal'byola increased her pace. She pulled down her cap far beyond the capability of her mother's knitting, she was panting heavily.'Is there no end to this ally way?' There was, but would she live to reach it?

" Foolish girl! " , a solemn voice hissed out of nowhere.'You're immagining things again',she thought, or hoped. She increased her pace once more and started running, the sound of her leather boots colliding with the pathingstones reverberated all around...

Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, grasping, pinching, drilling it's nails deeply in her flesh, making her stop. As he turned her around, she stood face to face with a hooded man, about twice her size wearing a long black cloak. His biting laughter sent shivers down her spine, while his hands reached out for her cap. Removing the woolen garment, he reveiled two rather pointy ears. The contemporate sibilation escaping from underneath the hood made Fal'byola break out in cold sweat...

" I think some purification is in order... "he said, showing her his knife. It's blade reflected the scarce moonlight, as he brought it up closer to her face. The girl bit her lip, knowing if she'd made a sound, she'd pay with her life. In a swift single stroke he cut off her right ear, it was soon to be followed by her left ear, which was similarly removed. The man grinned once more and showed Fal'byola her own ears. Tears welled up in her eyes, she could withstand her pain, but his pleasure?

" EAT! ", he shouted, filling her mouth with her own flesh. Chewing obediently, she tasted the flavour of raw meat combined with salty tears. She looked at him, trying to determine where his eyes were hidden, yet she was unable to move him it seemed, did he know guilt?

" Didn't anyone teach you to swallow? ", he asked. Fal'byola pulled herself together and swallowed, feeling her own ears glide through her own throat made her feel rather uncomfortable. His breath felt like acid on her skin.

" You're free to go. Run, little girl, run! ", he ordered her, releasing his grip on her shoulder. She ran away like an arrow out of a bow, feelling violated, mutilated, yet relieved, yes... purified even. Passing an empty trashcan she could see the main road.'A light! I'm save!!' She threw herself forwards, but suddenly she felt something tugging at the back of her head. Someone was holding her hair! She groaned as she felt his blade ripping her open.'Clung' there was a sound of steel hitting bone, the man sighed softly and stabbed her again, more accurately this time.

" Foolish girl.. ", he hissed once more, dropping her lifeless body in front of him. Unsheathing a second, thinner, dagger, he bent over her. He brushed some hair from her face and started carving a swastika in her forehead. Seeing the blood, diluted by her own sweat, dripping on the floor, made him grin. He adjusted his cloak and disappeared within the shadows...

"Why did you buy that leaflet, sir? "

" Elementary, My Dear Floppy. "

" Elementary? "

" Simple. It's cheaper than regular toilet paper. "

Porckie, a rather insane dwarf, and mister Floppy, servant and flying mushroom, walked along main street. They had just been shopping for groceries, because they ran out of things to wipe their bottoms with. The dwarf was holding some sort of leaflet entitled 'What to do with a corpse, the detective edition', which contained 10 usefull tips. There had been a 'popular edition' which was considerably shorter, comprising only 1 tip ('RUN AWAY!'), but this piece of paper wouldn't, according to Porckie, be able to survive a single whisk along his haemorrhoids...

" Let's take this shortcut! "

They turned to their right and entered a narrow ally-way. Porckie raised his nostril and noticed the familiar scent of various excrements and ammonia. Looking around, his eyes met the lifeless body of an elvish girl...

" Hmm..it seems someone took 'shortcut' too literally... "

" Sir! This a corpse! Quick...give me the toilet paper! "

" Mister Floppy! This is hardly the time or the place to relieve yourself! "

" I meant the leaflet. "

Porckie handed his sighing mushroomfriend the piece of paper...

" Tip 1: Examine the body. "

Porckie bent over and glanced over the corpse...

" Take notes mister Floppy! "

Porckie dipped his finger in the sheet of her blood and licked his finger afterwards...

" The blood's still warm..and from a good year I might add.. "

He turned his attention to her face and raised a brow as he saw her lack of ears and the carved swastika...

" Hmm.. write down 'an aural assasination with a decorative incision in forehead'. "

" Will that be all? "

Porckie hummed..

" Ehm sir..it says nothing about undressing the corpse.. "

" But..but.. you never know what gashes are hidden beyond a girl's knickers.. "

" Very true sir.. but it says we have to 'interrogate an eye-witness' next... "

Porckie sighed and re-adjusted the elf's clothes...

" Now where shall we find an 'eye-witness'? "

" I think I saw one down the road, follow me! "

Amazed by his master's attentiveness, mister Floppy followed Porckie back to the main road. After turning right, they walked for about 5 minutes, as Porckie was counting the number of shops...

" 37..39..93.. here we are! "

They stopped. They were facing a shop, with lots of glass in it's window. Above the door there was a large wooden sign that said 'I. Ball, Oculist'...

The senior Gestapo-officer Herr Flick and his small, ugly sidekick Von Smallhausen were limping through some alleyways, looking for hints of corrution of the race in the neigborhood known as Elf Dorado. When they reached the alleyway known as Elf Street, Herr Flick's Gestapo-nostrils caught the scent of blood. Gestapo-officers, and especcially Gestapo-nostrils were trained to smell blood.

Do you smell that, Von Smallhausen?

Dinner, Herr Flick?

No, Von Smallhausen, blood. From a girl, probably elven, in her early twenties. Some 500 paces from here. You will attend more Gestapo-blood-sniffing-classes when we get back in Berlin.

Yes, Herr Flick

Herr Flick limped towards the corpse, follwed by the ashamed Von Smallhausen. As he reached the corpse, he extended his Gestapo-walkingstick and poked the corpse. It was an elven girl indeed, with dried blood on the side of her head, and a wound in her belly. On her forehead, someone, presumably the killer, had carved a swastika. The body was already stiff.

Tell me what you see, Von Smallhausen.

The small man did what was asked of him.

Correct. What does that imply?

I think it was a bounty hunter who wanted to impress our chieftains. Why else would he cut off the ears?

Herr Flick arched a Gestapo-eyebrow and pulled stopped poking the corpse. He hit his sidekick upside the head with it.

No, Von Smallhausen. The ears, as you can tell were swallowed by the girl. That implies that she was someone who was to be purified. You do not know your Gestapo-lore very well, do you?
The swastika can imply that the killer in question is a fan of our small leader with the silly haircut, but I think he is not in official service of our Leada. This deed is too blunt for that. Although it is an expertly carved swastika.
As you can see, the girl is blonde. The Leada loves blondes. So the killer is a disturbed person. Give me my Gestapo-magnifying glasses!

Yes, Herr Flick

Ah, yes. I now see why it smells of horse dung here. Porckie, the one we helped searching the Holy Quail, has been here. He poked the wound. He will probably go looking for an eyewitness. And since there will be none that he knows of, he shall go and find an oculist. Maybe Herr Ball. Isaac Ball. The idiot who should be shot. Let us go there.

Sheathing his Gestapo-magnifying glasses, Herr Flick limped to the shop of the oculist, and the scent of Porck and his mushroom-squire got stronger. The knocked on the front door.

MACH DIE TÃœR AUF!! JETZT!!

Herr Flick bellowed. As no one replied, Herr Flick decided to open it himself. The two limped in, and saw Porckie and his mushroom sitting, talking to the oculist.

We of the Gestapo are now officially investigating this murder. Hand over any evidence and go home, or you shall be shot.

"Wha..What do you want, sir?", asked Fabon. The rather chubby librarian was beginning to sweat, the presence of this hooded man was getting on his nerves. This man just stood there, silently in front of Fabon's desk, without moving a muscle...

" Silence, elf! ", the man had spoken, screamed even. It wasn't the volume but the tone that made Fabon wince in his seat. The man spoke with outright hatred, as if 'elf' was a bad word, some kind of forbidden sacrilege.

" What have I ever done to you? ", the librarian asked, as sweat was running down his back, drenching his shirt. The man sighed and raised his hands in the air," YOU EXIST!"

As the man reveiled a knife from underneath his cloak, Fabon felt fear building up inside him. He wanted to scream, see if he could assemble any help, or atleast scare this person and get away. It would probably cost him his life, but he'd rather die knowing he had put a stop to this enraged maniac, than seize to exist, being aware of the multitude of elves that were to follow. He opened his mouth, but as soon as the words where formed in his mind, the man's hand shot out and grabbed his tongue...

" You Fool! ", hissed the man. Taking his knife, he cut off Fabon's tongue and held it in front of the elf's face. Fabon cried, the pain was horrible, the humiliation even worse...

" Now we've got to do something about those ears, don't we? ", the man grinned. The elf tried to speak, which caused blood to run past his lips. As Fabon felt the cold blade enter his chest, the last thing on his mind was fear...

The dark presence bellowed, as he carved another swastika in his victim's body, one across the elf's pelvis this time. When he was done he wrote something on a small note and planted it in Fabon's head, using the elfs' own pen, it said:

[center] Elves are a dying race.
Their death is purity in the name of Leto.

Signed: The Scarlet Swastika.[/center]

OOC: Ehm..maybe you're going overboard with the Swastika bit.. heh.. anyh00 another dead elf..hurrah!

IC:

" Who is the conceiver of your children!? "

" Mmm..grrgg...sttrr... "

" Have you ever worn your partner's underwear!? "

" Grrgg..gag...mm...sstttt.. "

" Why isn't he answering my questions, Mister Floppy? "

" Well..sir..I see I've kind of made a cock-up, I accidently read the instructions on page 4 'Interrogate a subject for a crime passionel'.. "

" I see, it's all your fault. "

Porckie smiled triumphantly and glanced at his mushroom-friend...

" I don't think the sock is helping much either, sir. "

Porckie's smile disappeared and replaced himself for a slight blush on his cheeks, as he removed the smelly object from the oculist's mouth. Just as Porckie thought of the perfect question, which envolved geese, a pickaxe, three fishes and a pair of spectacles, he was interrupted by a loud banging noise, comming from the door...

" MACH DIE TÃœR AUF!! JETZT!! "

Porckie's eyes widened, as he saw who opened the door, Herr Flick and his little gardengnome! He had always wondered why these germans always knocked before opening the door themselves...

" We of the Gestapo are now officially investigating this murder. Hand over any evidence and go home, or you shall be shot. "

" EEK! "

*BOINK*

Porckie and mister Floppy both panicked, which resulted in the latter launching himself through a window. Seeing a way to escape, Porckie followed his mushroom friend and left the oculist, who remained tied to a rather big trash can with a multitude of strings...

" Why are we running, master? "

" You heard him! he was going to shoot us, now I've felt his 'gun' before and my hiney is not prepared to endure another collision! "

They hurried off out in the streets. To make sure they weren't followed, Porckie cleared his nether throat, to occupy the highly trained gestapo-nostrils...

" Sir.. please refrain yourself from fumigating when I am behind you. "

They ran further. But soon Floppy was feeling a pain in his side, flying at high speed wasn't a healthy thing for slightly overweight mushrooms. Hoping to find a place to hide, or atleast sit still for a while, the two brave detectives entered the first building they saw, the library...

" Oh look! That man is playing dead! "

Coincidentally they had stumbled on the lifeless body of Fablon. They noticed the same mutilations as the ones found on the girl's body...

" Look sir! A clue! "

Mister Floppy pointed at the note, which was attached to the elf's head by a pen. Ignoring the content of the note completely, Porckie picked up the pen and examined it...

" Good job mister Floppy! This pen shall lead us to the killer! Now we have to think..where do they use pens? "

Both master and mushroom started thinking, scratching eachother's head in the process...

" I've got it sir! I have read shepherds use pens! "

" Shepherds? I didn't know they could write... "

" They don't use the pens to write, they keep sheep in them. "

" They keep sheep in a pen? "

" Yes sir. "

" Amaaazing... "

Porckie held the pen in front of his eyes and wondered how many sheep would fit in this rather small container. The shepherd who thought of that idea must have been a bloody good magician, or keeper of very small sheep!

" Onwards mister Floppy! To the shepherds! "

Putting the pen back in it's place, Porckie and the flying fungus left the library in search of a sheep-keeper...

The insolence of these two was almost unbearble for Herr Flick. Not only did the dwarf and his mushroom-trainee refuse to give their evidence to the Gestapo, also they had fled, making it impossible for Herr Flick to get them shot by a Gestapo-firing-platoon. But they had left the oculist where he was. The man was in a great mood though gagged with an old sock.

Von Smallhausen, remove the sock from his mouth and the smile from his face and put him in a chair in front of this desk, which I shall confiscate.

Yes Herr Flick.

The small man with the huge Gestapo-nose obeyed his master and put the tall, lean, fidgety oculist in the chair his Gestapo-master had meant.
Herr Flick then lighted some lanterns and aimed the light at the face of the oculist.

So we meet again, Herr Ball. You have escaped the Gestapo many times, buut now we have you. As much I would love to get you shot, I have need of your services at this moment. Do as I say, and live another day. Refuse, and you shall die in the Gestapo-torturechambers, by the hands of our gnome Gestapo-torturers. You have probably heard of them. They are notorious for their methods with Gestapo-pencils...

The oculist swallowed and nodded.

Now tell me, why was the dwarf here? Did you answer any of his questions? What did he ask you?

He was here to investigate a murder. I could not answer any of his questions, Herr Flick, for his questions were quite extraordinary. He asked me who the conceiver of my childeren was, if I had ever put on my partner's underwear and so on, and so on. Just when he was about to ask me about my pets, and in what kind of way I did love them, you came barging in, Herr Flick.

No one beats the Gestapo at crashing parties.

Herr Flick now aimed the lanterns at his Gestapo-sidekick.

Shut up, Von Smallhausen. Now, do you know anything about this murder?

Did you bring me some eyes, so I can scry?

Ofcourse not. Gestapo-officers do not carry eyes with them.

I got some eyes for you, Herr Flick! Here!

That, Von Smallhausen, is most disgusting. What are you thinking, stuffing eyes down your pants?

It feels very nice, Herr Flick.

Give them to Herr Ball, and go wash yourself! Even ugly Gestapo-sidekicks have a reputation to uphold.

Yes Herr Flick.

And do not stuff eyes down your pants anymore. It is most inappropriate.

Yes Herr Flick.

Turning his to the oculist, who was slightly green around the nose now, he ordered the man to go and look into this murder.

What do you see?

A hooded man and a elven girl. And something I would rather not talk about.

Speak up! One does not hide facts from a Gestapo-officer!

Okay... your assistant has two...

Shut up! One does not speak of such filth in die nähe of a Gestapo-officer!

Relieved, the oculist took a deep breath and hesitantly spoke

So can I go now?

Yes, you are allowed to go. Return tomorrow. Tonight, the Gestapo shall sleep here.

The oculist hurried from his own house and returned just as Von Smallhausen was done washing.

Herr Flick, Herr Flick!!

What are you doing here? I told you to return tomorrow. I shall order for you to get shot for disobedience to a Gestapo-officer.

But, but...

The oculist was still panting

And one does not 'but' a Gestapo-officer. It is a shame that I can get you shot only once...

ANOTHER BODY!

This drew the attention from the shooting-suject.

Where?

Just down the road, fifth alley to the right.

Why didn't you tell me, you vollidiot?!? Come Von Smallhausen!

They limped as fast as they could, and it was a matter of seconds, before they reached the second corpse. Twas a fat man, another elf. This one lacked a tongue and again, the ears were missing. A swastika was carved across the man's pelvis. Herr Flick poked the body, and took up the note.

This is terrible! Someone is trying to kill all elves! My grandmother was an elf! What kind of misguided idiot would do something like that?

An elf-hater, Herr Flick?

Your perception is astonishing, Von Smallhausen. Ofcourse it is an elf-hater! Whay else would he want to kill all elves?!?
But he wrote something about some guy named Leto. Now who is Leto?

His master?

No, Von Smallhausen. Leto is one of those fellows who call themselves gods. This one is believed to be dead, according to Gestapo-lore. We shall go find one of the Letite sects who are still about!

Yes Herr Flick.

They limped westward, not knowing where to look, every now and then asking someone where Letites were to be found. At last someone pointed to a tiny house. The door read: Leto Atreides, spice-trader

" Why are you wearing that hat? "

Mister Floppy looked at his master, who had put on a purple conjeror's hat with little black crosses on it...

" I am dressing up as a magician, this way the shepherd is more likely to reveal important information! And this.. is my magic wand! "

Porckie started fumbling with his trousers and mister Floppy averted his eyes. A few seconds later Porckie had opened his zipper and reached out to grab something. He revealed a small stick with a big yellow star attached to it with sticky tape...

" Oo..very lifelike sir.. "

As Porckie rambled on about his neat magictricks, like pulling a hat out of a rabbit, they arrived at the shepherd's place. It looked like a desrerted farm, except for the 383 sheep and a lonely piece of poultry...

" Awww... I wanna pet the sheep and carress the rooster! "

" You were always fond of stroking cocks...go ahead, I'll deal with this witness myself. "

With that, Mister Floppy flew off to cuddle farm-animals and Porckie entered the farmhouse. As he opened the door, he caught the shepherd by surprise. Shocked by the sight of a dwarf in magician's clothing, the shepherd dropped his bowl of yoghurt on the floor.

" CONFESS!!! "

" Confess what, you awkwardly clothed gardengnome? "

" Are you the one who puts sheep in pens? "

" I am. "

" Hah! And do you know anyone by the name of Gregory? "

" I do... "

" Darn.. I guess you're off the hook then. "

Porckie waved at the shepherd and stepped outside, leaving the man quite confused...

" What an odd fellow... "

Then the shepherd grinned, he didn't know anyone named Gregory, nor had he ever felt the desire to do so. Outside, Porckie was looking for his fungus, but was unable to see any trace of mould anywhere...

" MISTER FLOPPY!!!! ? "

" I'm here sir! "

Looking in the direction of Floppy's voice, Porckie saw a goat, licking his lips...

" Mister Floppy! How naughty you are, you changed yourself into a goat to take advantage of these virgin sheep! "

" No sir! This goat is trying to eat me, I'm holding on to his tonsils as we speak! Quick get me out! "

Porckie took a quick leap to prefend his mushroom to enter the goat's digestive system, but was to late. The goat addam's apple bobbed up and down and there was a flushing noise...

" Waaaa! "

" Mister Floppy! "

" I'm moving down his throat! "

" I guess we'll have to wait untill he err.. poo-poo's you out. "

Porckie tied a rope around the beast's neck and strolled towards the townsquare...

OOC: *Boasts life in the thread by splitting his post in two :D* (don't tell the voices ;))

" A penny for the pennyless, kind sir? "

Porckie faced an old lady, a beggar, obviously to ugly to sell her bodily functions...

" I will not. "

" Whyyyyyy? "

" If I give you a penny, you will no longer be pennyless and then I'd be responsible for you losing your job! "

" Ihihiihihi.. that tickles! "

Porckie turned towards the goat, who's contents had just met a gall-gland...

" Shut up mister Floppy! "

" It's a madman!!! "

" Mad? Me? Why do you say so? "

" You're talking to a goat! "

" I wasn't! I was talking to my mushroom, the goat merely swallowed it! "

Porckie kicked the beggar in her face and walked away, followed by the goat, who treated the mendicant in a simular manner...

They could see some shops already, the square was near. Suddenly the goat released a large ammount of gastric acid on poor mister Floppy..


" OUCH! Ehm sir.. how many stomachs does a goat have? "

" Hmm.. five I think.. "

" Oh crap... "

OOC: Yeah, yeah, got your hint...

They knocked on the door of Leto Atreides, the spice-trader. A small, tubby man opened the door.

Can I help you?

You certainly can......

Herr Flick turned to his ugly tiny sidekick

Shut up, Von Smallhausen.

Then, turning to the trader again, he put the note in the man's face.

We of the Gestapo, wish to see your fans. You shall take us there immediatly.

My fans? My dear fellow, I have no fans! Everyone dislikes me, for my prices are so high!

You shall not disobey the Gestapo! We shall not buy your cheap lies! Nor shall we buy your expensive spice!

That was a fine rhyme, Herr Flick.

SHUT UP, VON SMALLHAUSEN!

Entschuldigung, Herr Flick

The spice trader was starting to chuckle. Herr Flick's head jerked in the man's direction, and lashed out with his Gestapo-walkingstick.
*SNAP*

Herr Flick? You broke his neck. He isn't breathing anymore.

What?!? Then we shall have to blame someone else, like the Gestapo always does.

Maybe the killer, Herr Flick?

Do not be ridiculous, the killer is me...... you mean the elf-slayer?

Yes, Herr Flick.

Von Smallhausen, you surprised me! You must've learned the Gestapo-handbook "1001 ways to blame someone else" by heart!

Thank you Herr Flick!

The smaller man was smiling brightly, since he seldom was complimented.

Produce your Gestapo-penknife, Von Smallhausen. And carve a swastika in the man's forehead. Oh, and cut some part of his body off, and throw it in that there alleyway.

Yes Herr Flick

The smaller man obeyed, carved a swastika in his forehead, and cut the man's bellybutton off. He limped to an alleyway, and threw it in there.

Good. Now we only have to clean you up and we are free of blame, Von Smallhausen!

OOC: Ah yes..boasting life into the old threads :) We still have to find that darn little bastard! (anyone know if the Orcus is still alive? :P (looked his name up in a latin dictionary and it means 'Death wandering through the night', well chosen master Orcus! :P)) *trying out new ways to make the characters talk..I don't like this way, but it's the way everyone does it :(

IC:
" ARGH!!!! ", said mister Floppy, the imprisoned mushroom.
" What's wrong now, mister Floppy? ", asked Porckie, turning his attention to the goat, while arching both his eyebrows simultaneously.
" I think he's trying to squeeeeeze me through his erm.. guts.. ", said Mr. Floppy's voice, comming from deep inside the semi-concious critter.
" Aww..try to think of it as some sort of slide! You know, the funny yellow ones we have at home! " , his dwarven master tried to sound reassuring, while gnawing his upperlip.
" I'll try sir, but the ones we have at home don't have these intestine obstructions, I do hope this is some sort of sock, although I'm pretty sure it's made out of rubber... "
" Remember, this is only a temporary situation, we'll have you out, the moment Billy starts.. err.. going behind the bush..."
" I know sir, but isn't there a way to speed up this proces? "
" I guess we could buy some laxative ",admitted Porckie, ".. or some of the stuff we use to make certain things more slithery.. "
" You mean orange-juice? "
"Nope", smiled Porckie," Vaseline."

And thus it was decided, they were to visit the nearest herb-seller and buy laxatives. And, if this had it's poo-quickening effect, they were to purchase vaseline to punish the goat for it's wicked deeds (Yes, swallowing a mushroom is a criminal offense)...

Tugging Billy the goat along with his rope, Porckie arrived infront of a house which said 'Leto Atreides, spice-trader'. He opened the door, ignoring the annoying rinkle-bell-when-door-opens-system(which was made out of an observant hamster and, quite surprisingly, a bell.). Inside the shop he saw an elvish body, killed in a simular way as the others Porckie had seen. Yet in this case, the murderer seemed to be quite near and, most shockingly, well-kown...

" I knew it. Quick mister Floppy! Spread your wings and grab the small bloody one! I will start nibbling on the big guy's knee! ", shouted Porckie.
The dwarf launched himself at Herr Flick and put his jaws around the tall german's knee. Mister Floppy, in turn, tried to spread his wings, but he appeared to be instrangled in some bowels. Yet the failed spreading had it's effect, Billy, being a goat and thus not too happy about sudden swellings in his digestion-system, started jumping up and down, on the miserable, bloody, little Von Smallhousen...