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by Drake
Rated: 13+ · Serial · Fantasy · #1590757
An old military man writes to a forum about the elven rise to power.
From Harlan Granger’s Forum:

    How do you fight something like that? Something so strong, fast, ruthless? Something so well equipped? You can’t. You can’t do anything but step to the side and let it pass because that is simply the way things are. Stop the Tir? Please. Like trying to stop a dam from breaking apart. When the pixie’s mobilized it was swift and precise. Every angle worked out and any opposition was crushed. By Who? What? When? How? Where?

  We’ll start with the who. First off. Contrary to popular belief elves didn’t ‘begin’ to be born. They’d been around, and a lot of them, the ones who seized control first had been fighting in wars throughout history. Blink it. Three thousand years. Hecky, TEN thousand years. FIGHTING. Take weightlifting. The more mass you move the more your muscles grow. TEN THOUSAND YEARS!!!!

  On the telly we see the sweet wee pixies wearing their skimpy clothes giving us the news. We sit and stare in awe at their beauty, oftentimes taking what they say to be the absolute truth. My God, they must be telling the truth! Back to the elite… Back in the military days a colleague of mine showed me something to explain why the US Government didn’t mind a bunch of elves sweeping in and establishing Canada and some of Maine as their ‘Sovereign Nation.’ It was some satellite vid. Only ten seconds or so, magnified to all hell and grainy as fuck, which showed a group of armored individuals slicing through about a hundred orks as if they were human chainsaws. Elves my friends. And damned experienced ones too.

  Why wouldn’t you want to cede a little land to a group like that? They probably would help in a pinch if you were attacked or something right? Guess that’s why the UK gave up Ireland so quick also. Threw the potato eaters to the wolves and secured their western borders in one fell swoop.
  Ten seconds of grainy vid folks and by now I’m sure even THAT is not available anymore. The elves are that good folks. They are so good that from the moment Their ‘High Prince and Princess’ told the world that the promised land was open for business all satellites went dark and when they did come back online, all elven interests were concealed. Now how’d they do that? The answer I’m sad to say is above my pay grade.

  You can’t fuck with War Elves. They are large, fast, and smart.

  Being the peaceful old man I am, I managed to travel to the Tir on a diplomatic mission for Washington. I use several life extenders so I’m definitely older than your average human, but even with life extenders, you still get wrinkles, the age, while slowed still shows. The elves, damn, seemed like they were all twenty five. The largest of them like thirty-five at the most. It is most humbling when you’re looking into the face of someone who looks like they’re old enough to be your kid and you know they could’ve possibly known your ancestors. Strange.

  So the session goes well, they are extremely polite. I don’t meet the prince but being a military man I meet their war chief, Flint. The guy stood seven feet tall. Now on a human, seven feet tall looks gangly, strange. On Flint, It looked good. Most likely because he was as fit and trim as anyone should have a license to be. He took me into the town surrounding the most luxurious castle you could ever dream of and we partied like you wouldn’t believe. He told me of battles he had been in, ladies he had liaisons with, and spilled the beans  on how to get men to follow you anywhere (know your shit). It was one of the best nights of my life and for many years I always wondered how he was making out.

  Until one day I’m walking down a street in San Francisco and I see Flint walking down a street with a baby and one of the finest elf ladies I’ve ever laid eyes on. Now here’s the big part folks… The part I never saw coming. I run across the street and try to catch up with them when I’m ushered into an alley by two very strong and very well dressed elves. “Mr. Granger, out of respect for what you’ve done for your country the Tir wishes you to go about your life and forget that Flint ever existed.”

  My cred-pod vibrated. One of the elves smirked. I stammered thanks and stumbled out into street. I could still see the back of Flint's head from two blocks away and that was all. I walked in the opposite direction.

  That is why folks, I know my place. Because you cannot stop the winds from blowing and if you try you are a fool. You’ll hear more from me thanks to my benefactor BB for this forum.
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