Brendanjoke

It was just like any other day, or so I thought at least. The birds were chirping up on trees, clouds were rolling by the bright blue sky and Elves were dumpster diving in the alleyway.

Okay, one of those three didn't sound right...

I had a boring life once. Recently though, it has become less boring... to put it one way.

Finding a random Elf in the dumpster? Heh, must be a Monday.

A normal person would have walked by. A normal person would have ignored it.

I must be a pretty weird guy, then.

Now I have this Elf swearing her allegiance to me. What's next, vampires?

Better not jinx it.

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My Servant Is An Elf Knight From Another World

Formal wear. Like a butler in a ballroom. Hair slicked back with wax. Disheveled bushy beard groomed and combed to thick straight lines. Nick looked like a bulldog that so happens to be owned by some posh French fashion judge or something.

But there's no mistaking those giant forearms bulging behind the fabric - like a pig to mud - you can't just simply remove the ruggedness from the Nick.

Thanks to the competition, Nick's reputation has taken a metamorphosis from the staff guy that was unusually large, to the staff guy that was a close second to victory.

Everyone on the table fell into a hush, some sensing danger excused themselves elsewhere. As for me, aside from the initial shock of his bizarre appearance, I was mostly unfazed.

"Wow…" I said, taking it, taking him all in, then blinking once to face his gaze. "Nice suit."

The Taste Of Victory, Part 4