Date: 07/6/99 10:37:40 PM
Name: Lanfear & Taimandred Eronaile
Subject: A Silly Story of Our Own


OOC: During our trip to Kyu Shu, we had some time and began this Silly Story. We've since arrived in Washington state, but that's okay, we forgive ourselves. *s*
There are several references to Japanese anime, so if you don't get it, just move on.


"You’re such chotch!"

"Borax!"

"Don’t make me cave your face in!"

"Don’t make me rip your lungs out through your nostrils!"

"Mortal!"

With such outrageous effrontery, only one option remained.

"UNCHICKENISH!"

Taimandred staggered back as if struck by a large salami. The peaceful surroundings of Kyu Shu faded away and gave way to the silliness that is Dragonmount.

Taimandred’s face contorted in rage and madness as a bright golden flame surrounded him.

Lanfear knew she had a problem. Glancing back at Taimandred, who was sprouting yellow hair and whose eyes had gone pure white, Lanfear recalled promising Ishy a chance to go Super Saiyajin in her next silly story. Now would be a good time to fulfill her promise, she decided. As she grasped saidar and wove a gateway, she thought she heard Taimandred muttering, "Kakarotto…" under his breath.


Blood and bloody ashes! She had to find Ishy quickly; it would be only a matter of time before Taimandred tracked her down by sensing her massive ki. Such tremendous power must stand out like a beacon to him!

She found Ishamael wandering aimlessly around Shayol Ghul, laughing ishamicly every now and then and ordering whole villages destroyed. Ever since the Greens had painted his rooms green, he had been acting a bit strange. He used to deal in cities.

It’s no wonder those half-trained children are so screwed up, she thought. Just look at who leads them!

Anyway, she definitely (yes, definitely, next time we see a "defenately" we will personally rip the offender’s lungs out through his/her nostrils.)

Anyway, she definitely needed to give him a purpose in life. She judged that defeating her brother would be a good start.

Quickly relating the night’s events to him, she shoved him through a gateway and closed it behind him, cutting off his startled yelp. Dusting off her hands, Lanfear turned towards her rooms. She had other earth-shatteringly-important matters to attend to.


Callandor looked up from his compulsive tidying. His most recent project was the forest floor, which, oddly enough, seemed to be littered with assorted sizes and shapes of heron-marked Spam. Gazing above the tree line, he saw two bright lights in the sky. Climbing up a nearby tree to get a better look, he observed the two lights.

They seemed to be in some sort of dance, with the two lights circling each other, approaching and shooting away at great speeds, occasionally exchanging smaller lights. With a thoughtful smile, his thoughts turned to his bondholder.


Meanwhile, back at Shayol Ghul, Lanfear stormed into Demmy’s office proudly sporting her blue dress. She fixed her face with a wide scowl and prepared to recite her prepared speech. "No longer will I labor under the yolk of your command wearing as horrid a color as white. It is offensive to my very personage! I, Lanfear, Daughter of the Night, Sedai Cue’bekkar’sam, Tel’rhiod’raendar, Queen of the Chosen, Mistress of the Spork, Consumer of Mass-Quantities of Chicken, Dubbed Queen of Swaziland, Winner of the Millennial Free-for-all Kick-boxing Contest, Coolest Person in the World, Future Undisputed Ruler of Galaxy, Recognized Spiffy Person—(Taimandred: pstt.. Annette, I think that’s enough…) (Lanfear: *glares at Taim* Anyway…) do hereby declare blue to represent the glory and awesomeness which is myself. You cannot stop me! Resistance is futile!"

Demandred stood there stupefied, frozen in place where he had been toying with his Darth Vader light-saber and helmet. Raising his helmet to get a breath, Demandred opened his mouth to reply.

Lanfear’s eyes flashed, sensing opposition.

"But…uhh.."

"That’s it! I can’t stand such incompetence! I’m leaving!"

Lanfear stormed out, leaving Demmy to stare at her rapidly departing figure, only to return a moment later.

"And another thing—"

"Lanfear!" Demandred interrupted loudly, "You wear white on your own, no one is forcing you!"

He flashed an insufferable grin as Lanfear’s jaw worked silently, her scepter (spork) still raised high in the air. Realization struck her.

Finally composing herself, Lanfear stalked out without a word, snapping her fingers as she exited. Immediately, black-suited men with sunglasses appeared, pouring into the room and destroying all evidence of her presence.

"You saw nothing." a man’s voice said as the camera blacked out.


Ishamael’s body came hurling through several obstructing trees. Callandor could only gape as Ishamael grinned and sprung back into the sky, glowing as brightly as ever.

Musn’t run away. I mustn’t run away…

Callandor dropped from the tree and fled, displaying impressive amounts of agility and speed.

Looking over his shoulder as he ran, miraculously not hitting a tree, Callandor realized that the lights were in fact Taimandred and Ishamael, duking it out. He decided that shouting a greeting to Taimandred was not the appropriate thing to do right then.


Taimandred took a deep breath, but smiled broadly. The black-clad man facing him was a fine adversary; there was no way he could win, but he put up a good fight, and it was really spiffy the way his eyes and mouth kept spouting flames.

"Who are you, anyway?" he inquired, blocking a punch and kneeing his opponent’s face.

The black-clad man drew himself up arrogantly. "Once I was called Elan Morin Tedronai, but now—"

"Ishy!!"

Ishamael coughed indignantly. "I prefer Ishamael or Betrayer of Hope."

"Oh, very well, then."

They resumed kicking and punching each other into various features of the now battered landscape. Occasionally, Taimandred would laugh arrogantly and kick Ishamael, while Ishamael would laugh ishamically and punch back. Neither of them even considered using the OP; Dragonball style was much too cool.


Meanwhile, Lanfear sat arrogantly upon her porcelain throne, going contentedly about her task. Soon, she laughed to herself,soon! Reaching for the TP, she wiped herself and stood up to go wash her hands.

She entered her other throne room and ascended the throne, her crystal throne.

Arrogantly, she summoned an NPC Black Ajah to stand before her.

"You will beg to do a task for me," Lanfear instructed. "You may begin."

The Black Sister stared at her in confusion.

"Now!" Lanfear snapped impatiently.

The Black Sister knelt gracefully. "Yes, definately, Great Mistress."

Abruptly, Lanfear’s eyes lit up in flame (something she had learned from Ishy) and her hand shot out and relieved the Black Sister of her lungs via her nostrils. The body fell to the floor limply, followed by the lungs, discarded by Lanfear. She called another NPC Black Sister in.

Glancing at the discarded lungs, the Black Sister knelt before Lanfear, carefully avoiding the spreading pool of blood. She judged Lanfear wasn’t in a very good mood.

Lanfear gestured for her to come closer. Fearfully, she complied. Wiping the blood from her hand on the Black Sister’s immaculately white silk dress, Lanfear motioned for her to return to a kneeling position.

"You will beg to clean up this mess and do a task for me," Lanfear instructed patiently. "You may begin."

The Black Sister, having a three-digit IQ, complied instantly and without question.

Lanfear smiled in satisfaction, as she listened to the sniveling worm before her beg. Damn, I love being a Chosen, she mused.

"I have decided to allow you to clean up this mess, and do a task for me," Lanfear said generously. "Here is your task: take this filmy, blue dress to the Red Ajah of the White Tower." Lanfear handed her a bag with the words "AES SEDAI SUCK," emblazoned on its exterior, with a crossed out Flame of Tar Valon beside them. It was the most inconspicuous thing she had.

Completely ignoring the Black Aes Sedai’s cries of gratitude, she stalked out of the room, the matter already forgotten.


Taimandred was seriously kicking Ishamael’s buttocks. Ishamael felt as if he had broken his ribs and was bleeding internally in three places, despite all the golden flame and yellow hair he had.

"Dammit," he though, "this has to end."

Taimandred threw a tremendous ball of energy at him, and watched as Ishamael struggled to hold it back.

Without warning, a huge, metal hand swatted at Ishamael, barely missing.

"What the –"

There, a giant robot stood, towering over their tiny forms.

"Damn, I missed!" came Callandor’s tinny voice over the loudspeaker of the Evangelion Unit. Changing tone, he added, "Hey, Taimandred!! Glad to see me?"

Taimandred, so deeply proud of his brother Asha’man, lost all the anger that suffused his heart. Without the rage to power him, he lost hold of Super Saiyajin, and his hair returned to dark brown, as did his eyes.

Falling out of the sky, Taimandred would have broken every bone in his body, had Callandor not reached out to catch him.

Ishamael, still surrounded by his bright aura and his Super Saiyajin state not in jeopardy, smiled pleasantly down at Taimandred. This would definitely be fun.

Taimandred quickly took the opportunity to prepare his final move, one that demonstrated the cunning and power embodied in his school of training. Passed down the long Eronaile bloodline, it had saved many of his ancestors in times of the greatest need. Adjusting his stance, and putting a hard gleam in his eye, he announced his decision.

"Ishamael, I will now execute my final technique. Prepare yourself."

Elan Morin grimaced. "Look at you," he said scornfully. "Once you stood first among the Servants. Once you wore the Ring of Tamyrlin, and sat in the High Seat. Once you summoned the Nine Rods of Dom – Wait! Wrong note-card.." Ishamael replaced the note-card in his robe, and having no clue what to do, folded his arms and frowned self-consciously.

"Eronaile final technique! Ready… Set… Run away!!!"

Taimandred darted from the robot’s hand to a nearby treetop, from whence he hid among the brush and moved from tree to tree into the sunset.

Ishamael smiled in genuine amusement. These mortals were certainly crafty creatures. Sparing a quick fireball to destroy Callandor’s robot and singe his hair, Ishamael intercepted Taimandred.

Taimandred, resorting to another powerful technique, had donned a bright yellow flannel and fluorescent pink slacks.

"Do you have the Song, stranger?"

Ishamael looked at him, decidedly unimpressed. With a curt, negative answer and a gesture in his direction, Taimandred found himself flung against a tree. He gasped and sputtered, hoping to maintain his illusion.

"Peace be on you always, and on all the People. I will find the song, or another will find the song, but the song will be sung, this year or in a year to come. As it once was, so shall it be again, world without end ."

His dark adversary laughed once again, darkly. Licking his lips in anticipation, he began caving Taimandred’s face in.


Lanfear once again stalked into Demandred’s office, this time garbed in her usual white. She waited patiently, seeing that Demandred was busy.

"You missed a spot!" Demandred roared harshly. Slayer was on his knees before him, licking his shiny black boots clean. "Please forgive me, Nae’blis," Slayer said, as a large glob of drool came pouring out of his mouth, I will do better next time." He lowered his head for another lick just as he noticed Lanfear.

Quickly rising, he wiped the saliva from his mouth with his arm and nodded to Lanfear curtly. "You still have to do the other shoe!" Demandred raged. Slayer’s face turned red and he slowly backed out the door, stepping around Lanfear, pointedly avoiding her mocking gaze.

"I swear," Demandred complained, "If he didn’t keep my boots this shiny, he wouldn’t be worth the air he breathed.

Lanfear nodded in agreement before she began heralding her announcement. "I, Lanfear, Daughter of the Night, Sedai Cue’bekkar’sam, Tel’rhiod’raendar, Queen of the Chosen, Mistress of the Spork, Consumer of Mass-Quantities of Chicken, Dubbed Queen of Swaziland, Winner of the Millennial Free-for-all Kick-boxing Contest, Coolest Person in the World, Future Undisputed Ruler of Galaxy, Recognized Spiffy Person, do hereby declare white as the color to represent the glory and awesomeness which is myself. As it once was, so shall it be again."

Demandred looked up at her, speechless. What could one say to something like that? Seeing his astounded look, (he was probably enthralled at her awesomeness), Lanfear walked out, thoroughly satisfied.

As she walked down the hall, once again taking a wrong turn, a Super Saiyajin Ishamael gatewayed in, carrying the broken and battered black-coated form of her brother in weaves of air.

"What? You dare to lift a finger against my kin? You can be sure that the Great Lord will hear about this!"

Ishamael looked at her incredulously. "You told me to… and besides, why would the Great Lord care?"

Lanfear stood there, unsure of how to proceed.

"So…?"

Ishamael shrugged and handed her her brother. "You figure it out," he said as he reverted from Super Saiyajin to his normal, non-glowing self. "Oh, and by the way, your quarters are that way."

Lanfear frowned and stalked off in a different direction from the one he had pointed. God, her sense of direction sucked.


Two days later she arrived at her quarters. Taimandred had since regained consciousness and staggered after her. "Hey Lanny," Taimandred called, "Do you think you can get me healed now?"

Lanfear frowned. "There’s always Semhirage."

His face going pale, Taimandred quickly shook his head. "I think I’ll pass…"

Mocking her brother for a while longer, Lanfear called for a Dreadlord to come heal him.

"Thanks, Sis," he said after it had been done. "I’m sorry I called you a mortal."

"I’ll let it pass this time," Lanfear said, "Oh, and sorry for calling you unchickenish; you’re my kin! Of course you eat a lot of chicken!"


Harmony having been restored in the Eronaile family, the silliness of DM faded and was replaced once again by the harmonious island of Kyu Shu. Brother and sister, had yet again proved themselves as the coolest people in the world.

THE END