A Naga, A Wraith, and a Vampire Walk into a Bar


"Okay, okay, this is a good one - hey, are you listening? Hey, listen!"

"If we listen," the normally silent Vampire Lord murmured, shuffling the five cards in his hand with surprising dexterity, "Will you shut up?"

"Hey," Tyrel frowned, his bottom lip almost pouting, "That's not very nice." He paused, considering, "And its not like I'm even really that noisy or anything."

"Aren't you supposed to be part snake?" Zephier's voice echoed in their minds, dry and raspy, skin blue-grey and highly translucent. He was arranging his hand as well, though with the use of his mind as his body was not solid enough to physically move things; the cards floated before his body, his hands relaxed on the table, "You are noisy. I would think a Naga to be a silent, deadly predator, not some babbling loud mouth."

"That's not very nice either."

"Nor would I expect one of your nature to care about niceties anyway," Quain responded, pushing a lock of his white hair behind his ear, tongue running visibly over his sharp teeth as he studied his cards closer, making a few more adjustments to his hand. Everyone paused momentarily, before the three players each played a card. Tyrel, having just entered the room less then ten minutes prior, held no cards, and was not a part of the game at all.

"Well, you're wrong," The white and black Naga paused, frowning, "Come on, I just want to tell one joke - is that so bad?"

"TYREL, LEADER OF THE NAGA RACE AND ONE OF THE COUNCIL OF TWELEVE WANTS TO TELL A JOKE," A deep, roaring chuckle from the animated suit of armor next to the Wraith Lord, "THAT'S JUST PERFECT. WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO NEXT? SUGGEST WE GO TO AN ORPHANAGE AND ADOPT?"

"The Hellion is right," Zephier muttered, the feeling of his annoyance palptable in the very air itself, "You're too soft. I know we're not supposed to particularily evil or anything, but how can you even pretend to believe that you're equal with us? I'm amazed that no one from your various clans has tried to overthrow you yet - I cannot see it being a difficult task."

Tyrel glared, "For the sake of your safety and because I just ate and am in no mood to be getting up anytime soon, I will ignore your insulting and ignorant comments."

"He has a point though, doesn't he?" Quain muttered, "Your sons, last I looked, were all ready to overthrow you - all seven of them. Well, except that one, Ty was his name? I doubt that he has the will nor the fortitude to overthrow anything - in that I can see the family resemblence. Are you not supposed to be a violent, deadly species?"

"I think you're mistaking my kind for your own, Dark Elf; we Nagas are. . .Well, not peaceful, but balanced."

The Vampire Lord glanced up from his cards, "And how many times do I have to tell you? I'm not a Dark Elf any longer, appearances be damned." He returned his gaze to his hand, deftly picking out two cards and threw them on to the table, "I haven't been one for over three thousand years. That time is long past."

"Oh, boo hoo. Go cry in your emo corner."

"NOW NOW CHILDREN, REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED THE LAST TIME YOU TWO FOUGHT? I WOULD HATE TO SEE WHAT NAMIDREZ WOULD DO TO YOU THIS TIME, IF YOU RILE HIS ANGER." A thoughtful pause, another sound of amusement, "I SEEM TO RECALL THAT HE WOULD THREATEN TO USE HIS POTIONS IF YOU STARTED UP AGAIN." A chuckle, the hollow, vacant armor bouncing with amusement, "YOU WOULDN'T LIKE HIS POTIONS."

"You're one to talk, I wonder what would happen if I were to throw water on to you," the Naga snarled, "You'd probably rust, wouldn't you?"

"Just leave Carl alone, Tyrel - we'll listen to your joke if you stop talking afterward."

The Naga's brow twitched with annoyance, "I'll decide when I stop speaking, thank you very much, however, I'll move along with the joke now." he cleared his throat dramatically, causing everyone one else to roll their eyes (those who had) at the theatrics Tyrel was always so good at displaying, "Okay, a Naga, a Wraith, and a Vampire walk into a bar--"

"I cannot walk, I float, and if I am not mistaken you slither," Zephier muttered, entirely serious and grim, "If you cannot get your facts accurate, then I don't want to hear anymore of your nonsense."

"Oh, come on - it's just an expression!"

"I suppose the joke wouldn't sound right if he said 'a Naga, a Wraith, and a Vampire slither/float/walk into a bar', now would it?" Quain replied, dropping another card and hesitating before folding his hand entirely, "It would unnecessarily complicate things, and remove all the humor from the joke."

"WHY NOT A HELLION? I CAN WALK - WHY IS THERE NO HELLION IN THIS JOKE?" Carl questioned, giving up another card and drawing a replacement, "THAT IS SPECIESISM; I THOUGHT YOU ABOVE THAT." Despite the tone of his words, his posture and calm movements belied his supposed 'anger'.

"I'm not trying to be offensive, the joke can only have three peoples in it and since when have you ever been insulted by such stuff?" Tyrel huffed, crossing his arms and raising his body up a little higher from the ground, making sure to tower over the huge Hellion, "How many times have you called me 'Scaly' in the last hour?"

"Go on, just get this over with."

"Fine," the dark haired snake man spat, slinking back down to his former height, "A Naga, a Wraith, and a Vampire walk into a bar - which by the way is just teeming with Hellions, despite the fact that everyone finds them horrible and offensive and vulgar--"

"THIS COMING FROM THE HUMANOID THAT EATS PEOPLE."

"And at least I can be called a humanoid! A damn suit of empty, floating armor with a disembodied voice does not count as humanoid."

"I don't know - could a suit of human armor be called a humanoid?" Zephier questioned, one translucent hand rising to stroke at his chin, the faintest traces of stubble that must have been present when the man died, the other hand raised as he used his abilities to levitate and shuffle the cards for him, "It is in the basic shape of a human, afterall."

"I think not," Quain responded, red eyes eagerly watching the cards being dealt on their own, "I think its body has to resemble the human characteristics, or be directly related to humans, bearing some sort of common features. A Hellion may have the basic body structure and shape of a human; the outline of one, if you will, but seeing as he lacks an actual flesh and bone body, I don't believe that technically counts." The white haired Dark Elf paused, blinking, "No offense, Carl."

"NONE TAKEN."

"And what about you, Mr. Floaty?" Tyrel mumbled, obviously insulted and trying to take it out on everyone else, as usual, "You don't exactly look humanoid to me. Like, yeah, you look like a person but your that light grey-blue color, and I can see right through you. And you don't have skin or flesh or anything and you float. I think to be a humanoid, you have to be able to exist."

"Haha, very funny. You're just a barrel of laughs, and I'm not a humanoid, because I once was human."

Tyrel leaned forward, his face decievingly innocent and curious, and he spoke in a conspirital whisper, "Does that make you the Anti-Human?" His face slowly split wide in a mocking grin of sharp teeth.

The Vampire sighed, "Didn't you have some joke you had to share with us?"

"Oh, oh yeah! Okay, so a Naga, a Wraith, and a Vampire walk into a bar--"

"WE'VE HEARD THIS PART ALREADY."

"--Shut up! Anyway, they walk into the bar and the bartender asks them, 'What will it be?' They all order a beer and--"

"I can't drink beer," the Vampire Lord bemoaned, drawing a card and discarding two, "And I'm pretty sure neither can the Wraith. I don't know about Nagas, though; wouldn't that make you sick?" He won the hand and tossed his cards back to the dealer, "I mean, seeing as you're strictly carinvores and all."

"It should," Zephier collected the cards and set about reshuffling the deck, "Beers are made from certain plants, such as hops. Well, ale is at least - I'm no expert on the subject."

"Speaking of which, just what was your specialty when you were still alive?" Quain asked, ignoring the venomous glares that the Naga Lord shot his way.

"I was an assistant rug and pottery merchant. Long time ago."

"IMPRESSIVE, FROM AN ASSISTANT TO A LORD OF THE UNDEAD AND A MEMBER OF THE COUNCIL. . .THAT'S A HELL OF A PROMOTION." The large floating pile of metal sighed deeply in melancholy, one empty guantlet cradling the invisible chin within his helm, "I WAS AN ARMY GENERAL, SO IT WASN'T THAT LARGE OF A LEAP FOR ME."

"Really? What army?" Again the Vampire pushed long strands of white hair out of his eyes, focused on his cards, stony expression not revealing anything further than mild curiousity, and interest.

"Guys--"

"EARLY ENGLISH. AROUND THE LATE DARK AGES, EARLY MEDIEVAL TIMES - PROBABLY ONE OF THE BETTER PERIODS IN HISTORY TO BE KILLED AND HAVE YOUR SOUL MYSTICALLY SEALED WITHIN YOUR ARMOR."

"--They order a beer each, and when it comes time to pay, they--"

"I can't imagine that being particularly pleasant."

"COULD HAVE BEEN WORSE, BESIDES NOW IF I GET HIT AND I FALL APART, YOU JUST PUT ME BACK TOGETHER - NO NEED FOR A MEDIC."

"I said : 'and when it comes time to pay--'"

"You're not invincible, though, are you?" Quain asked, then noted; "I'm sure I've seen Hellions die on the battlefield before - what happens if the magic that holds you together is damaged?"

"THEN WE FALL APART. WE DON'T DIE UNLESS IT TAKES TOO LONG FOR THE MAGIC TO EITHER REPAIR ITSELF OR FOR SOMEONE ELSE TO FIX IT, BUT THAT IS THE ONLY WAY TO DESTROY US. ONLY OTHER MAGIC CAN DO IT, HOWEVER; THE BINDING THAT PROTECTS US IS UNAFFECTED BY PHYSICAL WEAPONS."

"Hello? I'm trying to tell a joke here - no one wants to listen to anatomy right now."

"Actually, I find the subject fascinating--"

The Naga glared, green eyes narrowing, "You would, but then again you don't have a body, now do you?"

"NO NEED TO GET NASTY, NOW IS THERE?"

"I'm just trying to tell a joke here, okay--?"

"THEN SAY IT ALREADY."

"If you'd let me, then I would."

"GO AHEAD THEN," The Hellion returned to his cards, held up by invisible fingers. There was a long moment of tense silence, and just as the Naga started to open his mouth, Carl continued while casually sorting through his hand, "SCALY."

Twitching with visible anger and taking deep breaths, while trying not to hyperventilate, Tyrel mumbled, "Oh, that's it. You're taking this too far - call me scaly one more time, and I'll make sure to push you into the nearest lake. . ." Another forceful twitch, shoulders drawn tight with tension and anger, "I'll break you apart and spread all of your pieces all around the entire Underworld, you got me?"

"Carl, that's enough." The Wraith gestured towards Tyrel to continue, "Go on. Get this over with."

Suddenly stopping his fit of anger, his shaking ceasing completely, the Naga stared at the wooden table with wide eyes as he apparently searched his memory, "I-I, uh. . .I forgot." In his fury and his impatience, he had completely forgotten just what it was he had been saying - some bar joke, but. . .

"Was it, ' they walk into a bar and order a beer each, and when it comes time to pay, they find out that none of them remembered to bring their money, so they try to barter; the Naga tries to offer the bartender golden scales, and the bartender accepts, putting them in his cap. The Wraith tries to offer the bartender the Silver Threads of Souls, and he takes them and winds them around his wrists. The Vampire thinks and broods before finally handing over a vial of the purest of Virgin Blood, key ingredient in all spells dark and evil, and the bartender opens the vial up and takes a sip and says, "Copper, that's all you've got?"'

"Um," in that less than welcome or amused tone, the joke didn't quite seem so funny anymore, "Y-yeah. That's the one."

"HEARD IT."

"Heard it," the Vampire sighed, letting his head droop, "That one's older than me."

"Like a thousand times," Zephier grumbled, discarding three more cards and drawing one, before folding his hand again, "And its still as lame as ever."

Eyes wide with hurt and frustration and embarrassment, Tyrel rose up again. After all his effort in trying to tell a simple joke. . .He stared them each in the face (or helmet) before pointing and shouting, "YOU'RE lame!" With that, he turned and fled the scene, giant wooden doors slaming shut behind him with a bang. Warningly, the ceiling shook and small bits of dust and rock crumbled and fell down upon them - the usual response from such an exit (or entrance).

Staring up, despite the dust, the Hellion muttered, "YOU KNOW, WE REALLY AUGHT TO GET THAT FIXED."

"Well, its not like it will kill us," Quain mumbled, examining his new hand, "Our bigger concern is what we should tell Namidrez - you know how he gets when we pick on Tyrel."

"I'm wondering when he'll realize that he made that up himself, and that there was no way we could have heard it before. . .." The Wraith paused, blinking, "By the way, just how did you know the rest of his joke? It is another one of his original 'attempts at humor', isn't it?"

"Yeah, but he always writes those kind of things down before he tells them to us. I saw it in his rooms and I thought I'd memorize it, just in case." The normally solemn Vampire suddenly smirked, youthful face twitching as if trying to hold back a laugh. When the others looked at him funny, he asked, "Do you think we should tell Namidrez that he ran out of here, or slithered?"

Watching as the other two chuckled quitely, the Hellion sighed, shaking his head.

"TCH. HUMANOIDS."