Weddings and Funerals (Episode 9)

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Newark, New Jersey

Slowly, the camera sets itself upon a lone elf with pointy ears and seaweed green eyes, as it strolls down a narrow concrete path while being ignored and dismissed by the people rushing in opposite directions. Along the street, contains a brightly-lit Chinese Restaurant with only a small amount of workers inside it, along with a scruffy distant shop selling precious antiques all the way from Moldova. An elder woman stood in front of the antique store whilst wearing a long moth-eaten black hat that drooped over her forehead as she bowed toward the direction of the elf. When she beamed at the elf, her teeth were yellow and cracked. He came to a halt before a tall and shabby hotel with flicking golden lights bearing the words:

St. Alastair's Hotel and Resort for Magical Peoples

As the elf presses his hand to the half-unhinged wooden door and it flings open, a young boy behind the registration hums in agreement as a hunchbacked wizard heads for the staircase. They both seemed to not of noticed the loud bang of the door, as the boy carried to chew on gum and flick through a magazine about the latest news on Hollywood stars. Reluctantly, the elf carried its bony legs towards a darkly lit staircase and up to Floor 4. Several times did he think he saw somebody staring at him from a doorway or feel like somebody was walking behind him, eyeing his every move. On Floor 4, it appeared to be the most dirty and contained multiple spots of black mold spreading on the walls and ceiling. The floor hadn't been cleaned for at least a couple of years as it showed several spots of dirt or dried up blood. He finally came to a halt outside 'Room 46' which laid somewhere directly in the middle of the hallway. Room 48, to the right, had a loud clash every couple of seconds and Room 46 (to the left) played a harmonic song that made the elf feel very drowsy. With one knock, the door swung open a few inches only to be stopped by a metal latch. A daring grey eye was seen from the small gap.

Voice: What is it?

Unsurprisingly, the voice had a sharp tone to it with a very serious and matter-of-factly accent and the black hair seemed to be greasy and scruffy. Although, the thing in front of the elf was not a man or showed any sign of a person. He had long jet black fur where there should've been skin and the roots of hair were a menacing silver. Two large fangs poked out from his daring mouth and his eyes showed how hungry he was at this very moment. As soon as the beast noticed who the elf was, he unlatched the metal latch separating the two and lunged the door backwards. Instead of fighting, they hugged. The camera moved slowly around to manifest who the elf was... Pyrder Croaxelle. Awkwardly, the hug didn't last very long as the giant being started to flex its huge muscles about the size of Pyrder's head, while slowly leading him to a brown saggy couch. When the elf sat on the couch, a cloud of dust enveloped around his head and swarmed him like an immortal enemy. Disgustingly, the foul smells of under-cooked beef and raw chicken seemed to overwhelm Pyrder as he tried not to attempt to clasp his nostrils tight together. The hairy beast took no notice and wasn't sat directly in front of the miniature elf, but was rather pouring compressed raw meat juice into a tiny glass whilst galloping it down within one swallow and not seeming grossed out. Not long after, another small knock on the door signified another person, or... beast. Slowly, the beast growled towards Pyrder and with large, heavy footsteps made its way toward the door once again. A tall man with red beaming eyes stepped forward into the room, making Pyrder leap from the couch and once again enforcing the dust to be thrown up around him. The light casted from the outside illuminated the person standing in the doorway to be; Llama MacCarones.

Llama MacCarones: Why do you have this foul creature here?

Pyrder: I'm not any particular foul creature... why is "Dark Hammer" here?

Llama and Pyrder both glanced quickly at the beast, but before he could speak, rounded onto each other again.

Llama MacCarones: I like to be addressed by my real name. Dark Hammer was just made from a filthy tale created by half-magicals and half-breeds.

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