I have learned an unbelievable amount of things in the past six months. I'm going to put them to use, and revamp this to quite a large degree. If you have read this story before, I heartily recommend joining me as it is revitalised. Alternatively, if you are new, I can also recommend you stick around! This story has a progressive storyline, and only gets better as it continues.
Please, feel free to review. Even if it's one word, it shows you cared, and this helps my motivation substantially.
This story is all about Iggy and Lemmy, and written from Iggy's point of view. I hope you enjoy it, as I have had such a ridiculously fun time writing this on the whole.
Also, the cover for this story was drawn and coloured by Pissed off Canadian, as he is known on this site. Look up his writing, it's amazing. I also feel the need to explain that he's one of the only reasons that my motivation continued to spike; he's largely the reason this story still exists.
Characters belong to Nintendo.
Currently rewriting the first few parts.
Beginning - Complete.
Iggy's Insanity Part One - Complete.
May it begin!
Prologue: Meeting Lemmy
The openings of my life, as well as that of my siblings, are shrouded and unknown. Locked within the deepest darkness of dilapidated castle walls; waiting to be uncovered. There is little precision regarding our origins – altered truths veil corroboration; Bowser's gambit runs deep. Despite the fact we are lacking in knowledge of who our Mother was, he attempts to feign we are his flesh and blood.
Bowser Junior's spontaneous existence kindled dying flames; suppositions piecing together potential falsities regarding Bowser's precarious account of our lineage immediately initiated. Upon the announcement revealing Junior's succession to Bowser, the flames raged, unmitigated. Ludwig voiced the chagrin fuelled opinion of us being separate adoptions.
Bowser Junior's seemingly inexplicable arrival demanded additional speculation, comprised of our truant Mother. Wendy disdainfully attempted to rebut Ludwig's theories, suggesting Junior's Mother birthed us, and preferred solitude. This presumption matched Wendy's scornful personality, and while it was difficult to assimilate, it was feasible.
Discussions tackling these postulations took place collectively, but stipulations were required, ensuring Roy was outwith close proximity. Roy's animosity doubled in circumstances questioning Bowser. Avoiding confrontation with him was considered important, even for Ludwig.
Our surreptitiously convened debates often descended into churlish arguments between Ludwig and Wendy while Lemmy; Larry and I tried to avoid bursting into spasms of laughter. Morton, the glutton who fails to retain silence, attempted to disappear in these situations; decreasing his inordinate mass to evasive levels.
"Our genetics, builds and general personalities all differ, incredibly so, to Bowser; Bowser Junior is literally his double. It's a simple subject to understand, yet you can't seem to grasp it," Ludwig would snap, glaring at our sister.
"It's nothing more than coincidence. Anyone with half a functioning brain could tell you that," Wendy would spit back.
Acerbic attempts at psyching the other out would proceed, followed by awkward involvement from either of them, "What do you guys think?"
It was common under these circumstances for agreement to favour Ludwig; we disregarded our own opinions, considering his aura of antagonism outmatched Wendy's. We each tolerated Wendy's unwavering determination to defend Bowser's motives, and opportunities to rebut her ludicrous notions rarely occurred. Lemmy was convinced her opinions were an apathetic appeal to Bowser's non-existent generosity, and an attempt at winding Ludwig up. It seemed likely.
Our speculations were disregarded by Bowser, likely considered insubordinate musings. What transpired to constrain us within his haphazard care remained unknown – his vagueness and evasion were steadfast under inquiries.
"I am currently executing a well-planned offensive; I have little time for this right now, do not bother me with such frivolous mediocrities. I am planning Mario's demise, not running a daycare."
Bowser's darkened tendencies were discovered as adolescence gripped the eldest. Compassion and affection we originally deemed rarities, but his abhorrence became apparent; we were no longer his children, rather his pampered slaves. Barely mature enough to contemplate the degradation enforced by war, we were pitted against Mario.
Unresolved theories branch into obscurity, compounding the unusual aspects. As a race, our memories are unparalleled; common Koopas are able to recall the beginnings of their life. Despite this standardised fact, we lack this precedence. The memories required to corroborate our birth are blank; arguably tampered with. One of Ludwig's newer suspicions, considered wild, involves Kamek.
Kamek is a wizened alchemist, ripened with age, and his experience correlates thus. His knowledge of alchemical ingredients and their functions is unrivalled, as is his wizardry. Ludwig has suggested he previously utilised these expertise for more than influential assistance on the battlefield.
Evidence explaining our incongruous beginnings may never be provided. But our endless pursuit of answers may never cease, for seeking answers opposing Bowser's would justify mutiny, should their disclosure galvanise the masses. And after all, we yearn to perceive whether or not we are truly Bowser's Koopalings.
Despite our forgotten conception, embedded within my early memories lies the fated meeting of my favourite brother and me. How the subsequent bond we forged outmatched even the mightiest of tempered steel. It has been common knowledge and the source of unduly amounts of gossip within the castle for years. Succeeding the moment Lemmy and I locked eyes for the first time, something connected us in a way unable to be elucidated in words.
When just a dependent baby, crying was an issue of extreme severity: I cried an unusual amount – my requirement of constant attention was insatiable, and my misery failed to abate upon satisfaction being delivered.
I remember the attention I received was a requisite enforced by Bowser; whoever was attempting to mitigate my misery was under strict instructions to suppress my uproar, by almost any means necessary. Apparently this failed to mesh with my intelligent mind, so I exploited the intrinsic traits of a distraught child.
Everyone who made several clinical attempts at calming me ended up burning out, inevitably reaching the end of a very long tether. Weeks passed, to no avail. Not only were they debilitated by my incessant crying, but petrified of Bowser's potential wrath, should they continue to disappoint him. The tyrant King harboured a fierce aversion to failure.
For reasons unknown, introductions to my siblings had been deferred, presumably due to my crying. But one fateful evening, as the evanescent sun started to wane; replaced by obsidian skies, Lemmy perceived my existence. He heeded my calls; my anguished cries for companionship. He attempted to locate the source of the commotion, eventually catching a glimpse of me through a compact crack revealing me within a claustrophobic room I had effectively been dumped in.
I was lying in a cot, dejected and crying, having been abandoned by Bowser, who warned me of the consequent punishment inflicted on those who disobey rules. I was charged with remaining quiet while he worked.
Lemmy, being uncommonly agile even in the earliest stages of youth, managed to detect a convoluted method of surmounting my prison. Tears had streamed from my eyes for an indeterminate number of horrific days, unmitigated by the impratical interventions. But after my reddened, puffy eyes landed upon my brother, my crying ceased. He was smiling brilliantly at me.
He lifted me gently, cradling me in his arms. I recall him crooning softly into my ear, but the words are muffled and indiscernible. Despite that, the feeling of ecstasy that enveloped me can still be accessed. My primary example of contentment. The attention I received from Lemmy was in no way contrived; it satisfied my attainable requirements.
He oscillated his hand through sparse tufts of hair sprouting on my diminutive head. I responsively started laughing, unprecedented since my ill-fated arrival in the hallowed halls of Bowser's horrific castle.
Numbing hours passed, as I rested in lemmy's angelic arms. Disconcerted by the distinct lack of noise emanating from my temporary chambers, a Koopa performing rounds hastily notified Bowser.
Despite Bowser's earlier ultimatum demanding silence, as entered he seemed fearful, perhaps fearing potential injuries. He frantically shook his head, scanning all factions of the chambers save for my cot, bracing himself for a fatality. As his eyes searched the cot, landing on Lemmy and me, they narrowed. I recall him angrily and abrasively barking at Lemmy.
He removed my older brother from the cot. And, as I witnessed the solitary source of categorical jollity being usurped from our newly established throne, the tide crashed around me once more: I was howling with intensity trivialising my previously witnessed uproars. Bowser glanced incredulously between the two of us before experimentally placing Lemmy back in my cot.
Lemmy instantaneously disregarded his misery, attempting with freshened resolve to console me, his eyes faintly tearful after Bowser's unjustified scalding. My laughter erupted forth, and his eyes lightened considerably.
Bowser turned, staring distractedly at the opposite wall. He seemed uncertain as he whirled, facing us once more. He opened his mouth, but closed it, abandoning his statement. Deciding my silence outweighed Lemmy's disobedience, he allowed our amity to continue. With a billowing sweep of his black cloak, he evacuated the room; mumbling as he went.
After our blight eventually dispersed, and the door was secured behind him, Lemmy wrapped his arms around me, picking me up anew. I cheered in elation, having bested our bane. Lemmy started elevating my positioning, rocking me in a methodical fashion. I accordingly drooped into partial unconsciousness due to the soothing tempo of his game. Having received little sleep prior to that moment took a large toll.
Lemmy noted my sudden lack of response, and lowered me into his lap. He started humming an alluring melody, rocking me gently. I slipped into a dreamless slumber in his arms, dead to the corrupted world until daybreak.
This is the foundation of my accessible memories; the first available for recollection. To this day, it remains my favourite. But little did Lemmy and I realise within our one moment of fleeting triumph – our inadvertent war waged with Bowser was merely in its infant stages.