Gouda and Evil
Eragon, his mouth overflowing with grated cheddar, brought his sword crashing down and furiously impaled the glowing blade upon a recalcitrant wheel of Pecorino Romano.
"ALAS, I THINK WE MAY HAVE A PROBLEM!" Roran shouted with unrestrained glee.
"Whaff iff it?" Eragon replied through a mouthful of cheese.
"I COULD ONLY FIT 300 POUNDS OF THE CHEESE ON SAPHIRA! WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO ABOUT THE REST AND ALL OF THE MEAT? WE CANNOT ABANDON IT! NO CHEESE LEFT BEHIND!"
"Sapheephuh-" Eragon choked on the large chunk of cottage cheese he was now digging into. Realizing that his speech was completely unintelligible, he then remembered that he could talk to his magical dragon through his mind powers.
Sapheepha - uh, I mean Saphira - do you think you can carry supplies in your claws, too?
Saphira trembled, and then collapsed under the sheer weight of cheese on her back. Eragon swallowed his mouthful of cheese, then turned to his good buddy Roran.
"This might be a problem," he said, devastated. "Oh, if only we could find some other way of moving the cheese without having to carry it! For the furious fight for freedom shall be in desperate straits if we cannot transport these vital victuals to the Varden."
Roran, crushed by the threat of imminent failure, cast his eyes desperately about the room. He caught sight of the wooden beams of the Cheese Vaults of Imperviousness – the elastic conveyor belt of the cheese factory – the giant crosshairs which adorned the Cheese Vault of Imperviousness' Official Coat of Arms. Roran, after all, had a brain like a mousetrap – simple and violent, but devilishly effective when cheese was involved. An unusually sly grin spread over Roran's blockheaded face.
"WAIT!" he shouted. "I HAVE AN IDEA!"
...
Several hours later, the cowering townspeople, who had been coerced into "helping the cause of freedom," dragged out the veiled contraption. Saphira, now liberated from the painful cheese mountain, gripped the veil in her teeth and pulled it off. The giant blanket of silk fluttered dramatically to the flagstones of Fli'im's center square.
There stood a glittering, towering monstrosity of a slingshot, pointed directly toward the People's Republic of the Varden. It was loaded with a single projectile - a wheel of well-aged cheese.
...
Nasuada was sitting in her personal chambers, poring over a recent memo informing her that, soon after she sent Roran and Eragon on their most recent mission, an ancient and bountiful cheese storage vault had been discovered directly underneath her palace chamber. Suddenly, a soldier burst into her chamber and breathlessly gasped out, "My lady! We are under attack!"
"What?" Nasuada started from her chair. "By whom?"
"We are not quite sure, b-but it appears that several hundred pounds of cheese are falling from the sky at an unusually high rate. We are - alarmed, your highness. And slightly bemused!"
Nasuada looked out of her tent at the carnage as several wheels of fiery cheese slammed into the fortress walls, cracking the very foundations and creating a smoking crater of superheated Smoked Gouda.
Nasuada grabbed a toasting fork and shook it furiously at the heavens, as cheesy missiles continued to rain down from above, backlit against the blood-red sunset. "War, I have seen. Carnage, I have cheerily participated in. But never, never could I have imagined a deed of such dastardly cruelty. Cuuuurse yooooouuuuuu, Galbatoriiiiiiiiiix!"
