All Purpose Negima Fanfiction Thread

Nimrod peered at the tree and the moat thoughtfully before he said, "Overlooking the problem of how you dug this without any of us noticing, as well as overlooking the heresy of using sandpaper and a plane to build a treehouse, I have two issues that ought to be addressed."

"Sandpaper keeps you from getting splinters," SCM said.

"First issue, you do remember that demons can fly right? I somehow doubt they arrived on a bus. Kinda renders the moat useless."

"Ummm..." SCM started.

Nimrod interrupted him, "But worse than that, you do realize that you might have ruined some of the roots that hold the tree up? Trees spread roots all around to keep from being blown over in windstorms. No tree, no treehouse."

"First issue, you do remember that demons can fly right? I somehow doubt they arrived on a bus. Kinda renders the moat useless."

"That's what the crossbows are for," SCM said confidently..

"Crossbows?" Nimrod said slowly. "What crossbows?"

"The ones next to the boiling oil, just under the mule catapults," Negi said helpfully.

"Mule catapults?"

"The ones loaded with grenades. Try to keep up, will you?" SCM said.

"You do realize that you might have ruined some of the roots that hold the tree up? Trees spread roots all around to keep from being blown over in windstorms. No tree, no treehouse."

"And the tree's fine, the roots go down here, not sideways," SCM said, with all the confidence of an impending disaster waiting to happen. "Does anyone know where the extension cord is? Otherwise we can't use the drill to make murder holes."

With free time to herself now, Quenthel had one thing in mind. She had always been taught that the gods were there for them when there was an hour of need. Lolth may not have been one like those human gods, but she did step in once in a while.

But as she understood the more she was on Earth, she was realizing something horrendous, even by her standards: The god here was doing nothing to aid the humans.

As much as she disliked them, even they should have a deity that helped them. Thus, she went to the church.

Going at first with a demonic pace there, she slowed down to a more casual walk for entering. She was still in disguise and had to act like it, of course. Opening the door, she saw two girls cleaning the place. "Excuse me," she said softly.

"Huh?" The elder girl of the two turned to her. "Oh, hey, you must be miss Melissa Haythorne, yeah?"

"Yes, that's right." Quenthel stepped in fully now, taking in the full decor of the church. Spacious, built with white limestone and big windows to let in the light. Not so different from certain religions in Faerun.

"Haven't been to a Catholic church before, have you?" The girl asked.

"No, you could say that again," Quenthel admitted and spotted the altar. A simple cross stood there flanked by candles. Not as ostentatious as the other religions she knew of, then. "But I have always been a religious person so I thought I would come to do my own time here."

"Ah, I see." The girl picked up the other one. "Well, me and Cocone were finished cleaning here anyway, so we'll just pop over to the other wing." They stopped at the door. "You need anything, let me know."

"Thank you." Quenthel nodded her head to her and the girls left. Just to be certain, she took her time walking to the altar, making sure nobody else was in the hall. Pleased with that she was alone, Quenthel walked up right up to it and...

...tapped at the cross with her finger rapidly. "I know you can hear me, you lazy bastard. I got some words for you to hear." She tapped at the cross again.

When there was no answer, she narrowed her eyes. "Fine, then just listen. I have heard of gods thinking they can just leave their people alone, let them grow up for themselves, but I can honestly say I never met one so stubborn as you. You let them roam free, that's one thing, but not doing anything when they are in need of proper guidance is another. Your clergy is a shamble of what it should be. Millions die when they could be out there doing something. How many wars are fought right now, yet you do nothing. If you're the god they elevate you to be, don't you think you should be responsible with that power?"

"Ahem."

Quenthel froze. When did she get noticed? How come she didn't notice the other one in turn? She turned around and saw who must be the manager of the church. She had a smile on her face.

"Not one for the traditional prayer, are we?"

"Uhh.... no," Quenthel admitted. "I... was never taught the proper... stuff."

The manager chuckled. "Relax, we have had stranger people here."

Do I want to know? Quenthel wondered.

"But I must ask now that you leave. Evening mass is 7 p.m. and we would like to have you here, then."

Quenthel blinked. "Right. I'll see if I can make it." She walked out of the hall, leaving Sister Shakti alone.

"Hmm. A very strange person, that one," she noted to herself. "But I guess with all the people we have here, I can't say I can point fingers. Nor should I." She went to her office, after having closed the doors.

And the altar was left alone...

"Hello?"

I'm considering MARV, but that thing is just too huge to be stored on aircraft carrier.