To Feargus O'Sullivan
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TennyoCeres84
- Site Admin
- Posts: 2931
- Joined: Tue Jan 08, 2013 4:59 am
To Feargus O'Sullivan
What is your job as the deputy chief of Pickman Sound like, since you're an elf? By extension, what is the current elf community like in Hope/Evergloam?
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IamLEAM1983
- Site Admin
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- Location: Quebec, Canada
As Feargus
"I'd say, dear lass, that it's like being the queen bee to a rambunctious beehive - only every single sodding bee in your hive is a queen bee as well.
We Elves, we're a headstrong bunch. We do what we need to do how it needs to be done, but from the Svartalves to the Brownies and Nixies, we don't brush well with authority. So how do I handle being the chaperone for a few thousand little airheads? The Drifters have their lingo and their flashed weapons, the mob likes its lethal innuendo, and I'm a loving and patient father and caretaker as only the Emerald Isles could've produced. Meaning, of course, that I swat the ever-loving piss out of whoever threatens to go too far!
Not to worry, though, we're acrobatic little sorts, and we can take punishment with more gusto than you giants. Slaps and punches from upside the head are bog-standard when it comes to raising our bairns, and we all push self-reliance pretty high on our list of requisites. You humans brag when you can handle two steps of Parkour, we Elves tumble and roll from the moment we're taking our first steps! We have to, what with everything being manufactured and assembled for an increasing average height of five to six feet or more!
So I'm handling a community where everyone is a potential cat burglar, and a good lot of us can abscond with more riding in perilous balance atop their wee hands than you'd imagine. I've thrown grown men head-over-heels, I'll have you know, and with nothing but their pinky finger! I hear all the martial arts enthusiasts push for a meeting with bloody John Shou or Shen Long, but nobody pauses to figure out how it is that we action-figure types can hoist plus-sized Drifters around if we're given cause!
Ah, but we're still a nice enough lot, and we still mean it when we forge a Bond with a mortal and its family! The proper Fae are all wrapped up in their self-serving and obfuscating agendas, which I'd really like to render illegal, honestly, and we Little People are the only ones left to shoulder the brunt of the old traditions. I mean the revelries, the teaching, the eye-opening - everything we used to pass down to druids, so they, in turn, could pass it on to you.
As to how I'm writing this? Heavens bless shrinking spells, or else I'd never have gotten a hand of your keyboards and smartphones... Guns are useless, though. Miniaturized bullets don't do squat against a decently grown man."
We Elves, we're a headstrong bunch. We do what we need to do how it needs to be done, but from the Svartalves to the Brownies and Nixies, we don't brush well with authority. So how do I handle being the chaperone for a few thousand little airheads? The Drifters have their lingo and their flashed weapons, the mob likes its lethal innuendo, and I'm a loving and patient father and caretaker as only the Emerald Isles could've produced. Meaning, of course, that I swat the ever-loving piss out of whoever threatens to go too far!
Not to worry, though, we're acrobatic little sorts, and we can take punishment with more gusto than you giants. Slaps and punches from upside the head are bog-standard when it comes to raising our bairns, and we all push self-reliance pretty high on our list of requisites. You humans brag when you can handle two steps of Parkour, we Elves tumble and roll from the moment we're taking our first steps! We have to, what with everything being manufactured and assembled for an increasing average height of five to six feet or more!
So I'm handling a community where everyone is a potential cat burglar, and a good lot of us can abscond with more riding in perilous balance atop their wee hands than you'd imagine. I've thrown grown men head-over-heels, I'll have you know, and with nothing but their pinky finger! I hear all the martial arts enthusiasts push for a meeting with bloody John Shou or Shen Long, but nobody pauses to figure out how it is that we action-figure types can hoist plus-sized Drifters around if we're given cause!
Ah, but we're still a nice enough lot, and we still mean it when we forge a Bond with a mortal and its family! The proper Fae are all wrapped up in their self-serving and obfuscating agendas, which I'd really like to render illegal, honestly, and we Little People are the only ones left to shoulder the brunt of the old traditions. I mean the revelries, the teaching, the eye-opening - everything we used to pass down to druids, so they, in turn, could pass it on to you.
As to how I'm writing this? Heavens bless shrinking spells, or else I'd never have gotten a hand of your keyboards and smartphones... Guns are useless, though. Miniaturized bullets don't do squat against a decently grown man."