DISCLAIMER :: No offense to any cheerleaders. I own zero of these
characters and places, I am simply making fun of them.
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BOOK ONE :: SOME, RUN-DOWN, WET EXCUSE FOR A CASTLE
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Mossflower. A dump of a forest. Wintertime is the worst time, don't ever come. There's all this white, fluffy, powdery, and semi-wet stuff on the ground. Cold...always, always cold. For all it's worth, Mossflower might as well be called Deadflower. It's a better, more suiting name, anyhow.
Anyway, there's this small cottage. It's really more of a run-down one room shack with six beasts and a fireplace. Is that crowded, or is that crowded?
Anyhow, there's a knock on the shack's door. A fat goodwife, by the name of Goodwife, climbs on top of a bulgy blanket. Must hurt, because her young 'uns are under it. Who would do that to themselves? The big, male hedgehog grabs a fire poker and wields it like a sword, because he simply mistakes it for the nice, long sword that is standing by the fire. Must be drunk.
His name is Ben. "If you want some bread," he says sweetly, then turns nasty, "then come an' get it!"
A pitiful, small voice comes from the door. "Awlright, Ben, oi'll make a mental note to..." You can hear him shuffle through his pockets and pull something out. After a moment's pause, there comes a scratching sound, and a mole making small grunts of pain.
Ben flings open the door. "I was a-thinking you were a vermin, Urthclaw, me ole mate. Get in here afore some vermin takes you!"
As if on cue, a ragged arm swipes at and grabs at the mole. Voices are heard.
"Ah, 'tis just a mole. Throw 'im back!"
"'ey, messmate, larder is larder, an' we gotta take 'im!"
Goody finally gets off of the prickly blanket, and runs to her fresh, brown, warm oven loaves. She carries them outside, and says, "Here, you nice vermin, take these and we can live in peace, my friends!"
The vermin oblige. "Well, miss, orders is orders, and we got's to take these loaves." A kiss is heard, and Goody comes back in, blushing.
"That vermin was such a sweetheart!"
A mouse walked through the white, fluffy, powdery, and semi-wet stuff, picking his way through it. Murmurs were heard, like: "Ick, this white, fluffy, powdery, and semi-wet stuff is gross!"
A sword is slung across his back. It's probably there for decoration, but on his belt hang some cheerleader pompoms.
Suddenly, the mouse is possessed by some evil spirit. He whips out the pompoms and waves them back and forth in the air. "Go, SAYNA! Sayna is the number one! Go, fight, and win, Sayna! Boo the red ship! Down with the red ship! S-A-Y-N-A! Goooooooo SAYNA!!!"
After a moment, the mouse's eyes dart suspiciously around. When he is confident that no one was looking, he stuffs the pompoms in his back and continues upon his way.
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BOOK ONE :: SOME, RUN-DOWN, WET EXCUSE FOR A CASTLE
-------------|-------------
Mossflower. A dump of a forest. Wintertime is the worst time, don't ever come. There's all this white, fluffy, powdery, and semi-wet stuff on the ground. Cold...always, always cold. For all it's worth, Mossflower might as well be called Deadflower. It's a better, more suiting name, anyhow.
Anyway, there's this small cottage. It's really more of a run-down one room shack with six beasts and a fireplace. Is that crowded, or is that crowded?
Anyhow, there's a knock on the shack's door. A fat goodwife, by the name of Goodwife, climbs on top of a bulgy blanket. Must hurt, because her young 'uns are under it. Who would do that to themselves? The big, male hedgehog grabs a fire poker and wields it like a sword, because he simply mistakes it for the nice, long sword that is standing by the fire. Must be drunk.
His name is Ben. "If you want some bread," he says sweetly, then turns nasty, "then come an' get it!"
A pitiful, small voice comes from the door. "Awlright, Ben, oi'll make a mental note to..." You can hear him shuffle through his pockets and pull something out. After a moment's pause, there comes a scratching sound, and a mole making small grunts of pain.
Ben flings open the door. "I was a-thinking you were a vermin, Urthclaw, me ole mate. Get in here afore some vermin takes you!"
As if on cue, a ragged arm swipes at and grabs at the mole. Voices are heard.
"Ah, 'tis just a mole. Throw 'im back!"
"'ey, messmate, larder is larder, an' we gotta take 'im!"
Goody finally gets off of the prickly blanket, and runs to her fresh, brown, warm oven loaves. She carries them outside, and says, "Here, you nice vermin, take these and we can live in peace, my friends!"
The vermin oblige. "Well, miss, orders is orders, and we got's to take these loaves." A kiss is heard, and Goody comes back in, blushing.
"That vermin was such a sweetheart!"
A mouse walked through the white, fluffy, powdery, and semi-wet stuff, picking his way through it. Murmurs were heard, like: "Ick, this white, fluffy, powdery, and semi-wet stuff is gross!"
A sword is slung across his back. It's probably there for decoration, but on his belt hang some cheerleader pompoms.
Suddenly, the mouse is possessed by some evil spirit. He whips out the pompoms and waves them back and forth in the air. "Go, SAYNA! Sayna is the number one! Go, fight, and win, Sayna! Boo the red ship! Down with the red ship! S-A-Y-N-A! Goooooooo SAYNA!!!"
After a moment, the mouse's eyes dart suspiciously around. When he is confident that no one was looking, he stuffs the pompoms in his back and continues upon his way.