POOH'S ADVENTURES OF THE LESS MISERABLE: A SCREENPLAY
BROUGHT TO YOU BY 10+ YEAR FANFIC VETERAN BIJOUKAIBA. I COULD BE UPDATING SWORDPLAY OR POSTING THE BEAVIS AND BUTTHEAD FANFIC I'VE WORKED ON THE PAST TWO YEARS. NO.
I HAD AN IDEA FOR A FANFIC - A FANMAKE NO LESS - AND BY THE GODS YOU ARE GETTING THIS FANMAKE
THIS IS A CROSSOVER OF ALL KINDS OF STUFF SO JUST KNOW THAT I DON'T OWN ANYTHING UNLESS I END UP PUTTING AN OC IN HERE. MAYBE.
Inspired by the musical Les Miserables, inspired by the Victor Hugo novel of the same name.
TRITE SUMMARY: SET IN LE TOON FRANCE, A REVOLUTION OF THE FRENCH VARIETY IS GOING ON. HOWEVER WE WILL FOCUS ON THE LIVES OF A HEDGEHOG AND A MAN.
CHAPTER ONE: A Criminal Is Evil and Nothing But
The year in the country Le Toon France is 1815. Twenty six years ago, the Revolution began; but once again, a king holds power in the country.
And just as a king towers mightily over his people, so too did the battleship tower over the criminal scum enslaved at the harbor. Evil does not bear a name; evil is not "Jean", nor "Renee" nor "Twilight Sparkle". Similarly, all identity once known to these wretched prisoners was gone; stripped down to numbers, rather than names. Numbers lined up in little rows like beads on an abacus.
They heaved and grunted in unison, the chains that bound them rattling from their movement and the salty waves that washed over them. Their motion seemed almost mechanical, creating a steady and slow rhythm, as though a dark opening musical number was about to occur.
(Which it wouldn't.)
Prisoners were garbed in dark, ragged robes weathered by time and tide. Some of the humans among them, particularly the ones serving longer sentences, had longer, matted hair tangled from a lack of proper care.
In stark contrast, standing above them all and surveying the scene, stood a black and red hedgehog in clean and proper police attire. He sneered down at them, criminal scum, back in the trash where they belonged.
One prisoner in particular tried to ignore his presence, reciting a mantra to himself despite the piercing laser-like glare coming from the officer's eyes.
"Don't look. Don't look. Cast one more day aside."
"Don't look, don't look, we almost wish we'd died..." the other prisoners sang, even though this didn't seem like an appropriate place for a musical number. But damn, the opening brass music was just so powerful, and the strings of the background music carried an ominous feel...
(No, no, no musical numbers. This whole thing is a bunch of songs, I can't come up with a whole bunch of original lyrics)
At last, the sun passed overhead and had returned to the west, signalling an end of the day for the subservient.
And as the prisoners, back in their lines, marched back to their quarters, the officer walked down to their level, stopping the same prisoner from before.
"Fetch the flag," he commanded, looking over his soaking, tattered clothing.
The prisoner , his eyes weary from twenty years of the same punishment, locked eyes with the hedgehog before ambling over to the broken mast that lay on the ground. He stooped and slowly hauled the end of it over his shoulder, slowly dragging it back to the officer. Twenty years ago, he had been but a teenager; now the dye from his bangs had faded, changing them from violet back to their original brown. His already shaggy hair had grown longer, and he now beared a rough beard to match.
Step by grueling step, he finally dropped the end of the mast bearing the LTF flag at the officer's feet.
"Prisoner 56803, your parole has begun, or so it seems. And that means-" the officer held out a slip of paperwork, interrupted by the prisoner taking it the moment the word "parole" had slipped off his tongue.
"It means I'm finally free," the man spoke, catching his breath as he rolled the shoulder that had handled the mast.
"Wrong! Read the fine print of your personal records - a warning to be worn until you die - it confirms that you're a criminal!" the officer declared.
The prisoner's brow furrowed, narrowing his eyes at the hedgehog.
"I fucking stole some bread," he spat.
That one loaf from the baker's tray, like always, en route to see the Roba brothers. Only on that particular day, the newest recruit to the police force, Shadow the Hedgehog, had been given patrol duty of that particular alley that had never had much security. The rookie had been hailed, and he had been jailed. Never to learn of the fate of Espa and his family...
"My friend's brothers were on the edge... they were starving-!" he argued.
"That's too damn sad, but until you understand what the law means-" the hedgehog shrugged nonchalantly.
"I've been here over twenty years, enslaved by that law..." the prisoner growled.
This seemed to trigger some deep-seated rage within the hedgehog, as he proceeded to roar at the prisoner.
"Five years, just for your crime! The others when you tried to flee! Yes, 56803!"
Five. Six. Eight. "Oh". Three.
Not him.
"My name is Ryuzaki," he declared.
"And I'm Shadow! Do not forget my name! Always remember, 56803!"
Another guard stepped down, releasing Ryuzaki from his chains and escorting him aside. He led him up to the edge of the prison camp, held the door for him to step outside, and closed the door behind him.
Imprisonment may have been hell, but at least it came with meager rations and a cot beneath a roof.
Now, Ryuzaki had jagged rocks beneath his feet, an open sky to call the ceiling, no promise of food, and a badge of condemnation.
Do not forget...
No, Ryuzaki would not forget, nor would he forgive what had befallen him for twenty years. He turned his gaze aside from a cross-like shrine carved from wood, no doubt dedicated to Talos.
The rocky mountains finally led to smoother tundras, becoming greener as he went further south each day, with nothing but twigs and insects for food. It was roughly five days since he had left that he came upon a pasture littered with sheep.
"If there's work to be done, I'll take it," Ryuzaki offered the nearby shepherd.
The shepherd wore brown overalls and had dark curly hair, but most notable was his long pointed nose.
"... Let me see your papers," the shepherd replied hesitantly, looking up and down at Ryuzaki's ragged form.
He held his breath, handing over the paper.
"Hmm... nope! No work here," the shepherd remarked, reading over Ryuzaki's record. "Better try somewhere else."
He handed the damning documents back, and Ryuzaki's trek continued.
In the city, he was pelted with stones, thrown out of inns, not even allowed to sleep in the stables.
By nightfall, he had reached the outskirts of the city, where only a temple could be found. He stepped through the eerie graveyard before curling up in a corner that was covered by an overhang. Ryuzaki closed his eyes, almost passing out the moment he had laid down, when the presence of another awakened him.
He stumbled back, trying to get to his feet to fight off another child with stones or another beggar. But there was no cruel child nor a beggar; the priest of the temple had found him.
"You appear rather weary, and there's a nip in the air; please come inside, you'll prefer it in there."
He was a Dunmer priest by the name of Erandur, having left the lands of Skyrim to spread the messages of Mara's love to Le Toon France even though he was not a toon.
One of the humble priestesses couldn't help staring awkwardly at the smelly man now seated at the pristine table, shoveling spoonfuls of hot stew down his throat despite the fact that Erandur hadn't even said the dinner prayer. But he smiled and proceeded.
"May Our Lady's benevolence and love be with us at this table; upon the sisters who bring us our food, upon the mourning, the poor, and the ill, and upon our guest. Blessings of Mara upon you."
Ryuzaki froze, lowering his spoon, looking up at the gentle smile of the Dunmer priest. Neither of them spoke. Ryuzaki resumed his rabid eating pace.
The plates were cleaned and set aside, Ryuzaki even offering to help one of the newer (and shorter) sisters who couldn't quite reach the top shelf of the cabinet.
He lay in bed, a blanket and roof over him, eyes locked upon the portraits of the Divines painted on the ceiling above. Ryuzaki closed his eyes, begged his weary mind to sleep, but he could not.
He snuck into the kitchen, dumping the last two or three potatoes from a burlap sack, and returned to the room where he had "kindly" assisted in putting away the silver plates. Ryuzaki opened the cabinet and silently began shoving piece after piece of the silverware as quickly as he could.
He crept outside silently, before running off into the night despite the rattling metal in the sack.
And by sunrise, Ryuzaki was being marched back into the temple, two police officers at each of his sides.
"On your knees!" ordered one of the officers, a large cartoon dog by the name of Pete, beating Ryuzaki across the back of the neck.
He let out a yell, falling to the ground in front of Erandur and one of the sisters in the room at the time.
"Father Erandur," the other officer, a unicorn named Shining Armor, addressed the Dunmer. "We have come to return your silver. We caught this criminal red-hoofed! Or rather... handed."
Shining Armor shook his head, before using his magic to levitate the sack of silver and hover it in front of Erandur.
"He even tried claiming that you actually GAVE him all this silver."
Erandur smiled gently, nodding.
"He is telling the truth," he walked up to Ryuzaki, giving him a hand to help him stand. "But you left in such a hurry! You almost forgot these..."
Erandur walked over to a table at the side of the room and lifted the two large candlesticks from it.
"They are made of solid silver, and I'm sure that they will please."
He handed them to a wordless Ryuzaki.
"Gentlemen, please release this man," Erandur requested.
Pete and Shining Armor stepped away from Ryuzaki.
"Thanks for keeping up your duties, as a good officer would do; but this man has done no wrong, may Our Lady be with you," Erandur commended the two officers, raising his hands toward the heavens to bless them before they left.
Once the officers had left, he turned to Ryuzaki, still unable to speak.
"Like the purest gleaming silver, I want to see how your soul shines; you must make yourself an honest man in the eyes of the Divines."
Erandur smiled, patting Ryuzaki on the shoulders as though he were family, before returning to prayer elsewhere in the temple.
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Ryuzaki sat on his knees, beside the bed where he had slept the night before, looking back up at the paintings on the ceiling
"What have I done, by the gods, what have I done? Became a cruel hateful thief with a care for no one? And I fell and I fell until I hit the floor, and I could do nothing but lie and abhor all the ones who would spare no tears, while I suffered for all these years?"
Ryuzaki slowly stood up.
"If there's another path to take, missing it was my greatest mistake; my life was a cage and I could not be free, reborn as a number while they killed Ryuzaki when they jailed me and asked for my head, all for stealing a small loaf of bread."
He looked down at his feet.
"Yet to this priest, I was no 'bother'. He took me in, just like a father... my soul he claims for the Divines - oh, could it be? For I had come to hate my life, as life had always hated me." (1)
By the gods above... his eyes stung with tears, which he hastily wiped away with his grubby hands.
"That could have spelled my misery - of cracking whips on a pillory... and yet he offers me his blessing. The shame I feel tears me to shreds, he tells me that I have a soul - is this how it should be? Is this the way that kindness spreads - beginning with mercy?"
He slowly raised his gaze, up to the doorway of the temple.
"I try walking, but I stumble - like the ground beneath me shook. And nobody stops to help me, for instead they stop to look."
Step by step, resolve building in his heart, Ryuzaki picked up his pace as he pushed the door of the temple open and walked out into the sunlight.
"Then I'll cast that world behind me, the old world of Ryuzaki - his story is tossed aside! Let us open a new book!"
Ryuzaki clutched his documents in both hands, before pulling them sharply in the opposite direction - creating a gigantic tear down the center of the paper. He shredded the documents manually, again and again, before throwing his old life into the wind.
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(1) Eh, botched songs are part of fanmakes anyway. It's like mandatory.
Speaking of which, WOW I AM PROBABLY NEVER GOING TO TRY WRITING MY OWN MUSICAL NUMBERS AGAIN THAT WAS EXHAUSTING. IT'S 2 AM AND I HAVE MOUNTAIN DEW. GOOD NIGHT.
(I will try to make a Chapter 2 my darlings)