Sonic Underground: "The Story Of The Past"
Title: "Bullseye's Story Part 3 (Son To Father, Father To Son)"
Author: BlushBunnyC3
Author's Note: This story here is written both to help the Warthogg Family history, and see some of the events from my very first and oldest fic "The Birth Of Mobotropolis" in a more recent and detailed account. Most of it is seen through the perspective of Sir Graff Warthogg (Bullseye's father), and it explains exactly why he is who he has become, the family he never speaks of from his 'distant' past, how he met Beatrice, why they separated, and his relationship with his sons (but like all my fics, it's written in 'omniscient' perspective and viewpoint, so that we know what's on everyone's mind and stuff). And it also explains a certain event that happens in 'BS Part 2'. Now I give you leave to read on... enjoy! All characters © BlushBunnyC3, except Sonic characters © SEGA, Archie & DiC. (If any songs come up, I'll be updating this first page, as usual, along with character castings.)
Cast Of Characters ( " " means official owned character)
Dara Warthogg
Darlene Warthogg
Stanley Warthogg
(Sir)Graff Warthogg
Joseph Wolfe
Margaret Wolfe
Griff Swifteye
Lady Faith Mongoose
Lady Eleanor Rose
Beatrice Rose(Warthogg)
Paul Sabre
(Sir)Svein Wolfe
Jack Rabbit
Sir Blackburn
Sir"Jules Hedgehog"
Prologue: In the year of 3166, in the Southern regions of Mobius, a baby warthog was born to parents Stanley and Darlene Warthogg, and their eldest born, four year old son Dara. He was named 'Graff', a strong sounding name, to bring promise of being a strong son. Well-named it was, for learning what strength really was, in it's physical and mental states would be one of Graff's purposes in life, a life that was like the ultimate test; how much pain could one stand before a fall? He was destined to never fall from pain, something he would call a blessed curse or a cursed blessing. It was a blessing in the sense that he would survive and overcome, but it was a curse in the way that there were times he just didn't WANT to go on, just wanted to give up and fall with the ones he cared for. But fate is a crafty and ironic dealer, and Graff, whether he wanted to or not, would keep on going.
Chapter 3:
The light of the room was dim and scarce, due to the mostly drawn-shut curtains, eloping the weak glass windows. Breaking the peaceful silence, was the tiny creaking sound of the door opening. The young warthog entering, flinched at the sound, as if it was a loud one. Warily slipping in, the boy looked to the bed nearby. In it, was his mother. The female warthog was fast asleep, obviously weary and exhausted from the labour, he knew. Dara also knew he shouldn't be in there, then. Just an hour earlier, his father Stanley had come out the room, to tell his son of the baby's birth. But, as his wife Darlene had fallen into a much needed sleep, Stanley told his son he should wait for another few hours to go in and see his mother and the baby, so they could rest. But after one hour, and at his father leaving the house, to go collect some firewood, Dara could wait no longer. He'd already been waiting patiently all month for the arrival of his new baby brother, and he wasn't going to wait any longer; he had to see now! The child looked eagerly at the basket, where the infant was apparently slumbering as well. Much to Dara's disappointment, it was placed in a point too high for him to look into. A pouting look clouded his face. Now what? Then he thought, and noticed the small stool near the door. Hope renewed, he rushed to it, then remembering he was supposed to be 'quiet' as in not there, he carefully picked it up, and crept back. Placing the stool in the best spot, he stepped up onto it, and looked up. It was just barely high enough for him to stand on tiptoe and peer into the basket. Good enough. Leaning up on his hooven feet, Dara gazed down into it. That's when his hair suddenly fell into his eyes. The warthog's mane was different than most. The color was like that of Darlene's; a brown so dark, it was almost black. The mane part of it was normal at the top, but the bottom part was somewhat curled into an almost 'C' shape. And the top bit was the most unusual, for unlike majority of male warthogs who had a tuft of hair, like a huge bang. Dara had a hairline split, and a set of some three bangs on each side, moreso like female warthogs had and few males. They were abnormally long, which caused them to frequently block his vision. It was this, that had Stanley once remarking to Darlene that his hair was too 'feminine' and wanted to have it cut. His wife, though usually weak at argument, managed to talk him out of it that time. Dara liked his hair just fine, except for the little moments like this, when it got in his way, at a silly timing. The youngster impatiently blew his hair out of his face, to see. And there it was, in the basket lay the sleeping little creature, breathing softly, his chest rising with each breath. His tiny balled fists were held against his face, and a tuft of a tawny almost orange, brown hair lock rest gently over his eyelids. One of his tufty ears flicked, and he let out a small yawn, in sleep. Dara gazed at him with utter awe, his big green eyes hardly blinking. He wished that the stool was higher, so that he could touch him, or better yet, hold him. The baby looked so cute and cuddly! Just then, a gentle voice spoke, "-Dara?" The young warthog quickly looked up, with a start. "Mamma," he gulped. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to-" Darlene shook her head, slowly. "-It's alright, darlin', I know." It's not your fault... you were just excited, right?" Her son nodded, solemnly. The mother motioned him to her. Dara stepped off the stool, and came onto the bed, crawling into his mother's lap. She held her arms softly around him, smiling. "Now that's better..." Darlene kissed him affectionately between the eyes, and stroked his bangs. "So... would you like to see your baby brother, better?" Obviously, he did. But he was considerate, and asked, "-But... isn't he sleeping?" That's when a small cry came from the basket, and grew into a wail. Dara looked towards it and back to his mother, amazed. "-How did you-?" The female warthog simply replied, "-A mother knows." Her son moved off her, so she could reach over for the baby. Darlene took the infant into her arms, and laid back on the pillows again. The newborn warthog whimpered and sniffed, starting to calm down. Not wanting to be in the way, the elder child watched, wordlessly. The mother warthog noticed this, and spoke, "-Oh come on... don't be shy now." Meet your brother, love." Dara slowly moved over, to her outstretched free arm, that went around him, embracing, and she smoothed his mane. "-This is Graff... can you say hello to him?" Shyly, in a timid voice, he said, "-Hi..." The baby gave a yawn, and blinked open his eyes. They were green like Dara's, except for the difference in shade; Dara's were a lush plant-like green and Graff's were a light ice-like green. He stared at his big brother, with wonder and curiousity, yet familiarity. The infant gave a small gurgling coo sound, and reached up an arm, as if he was out towards Dara, then sleepily rubbed an eye. Little newborn Graff WAS just a tiny thing, after all. The four year old beamed at him, taken in by this seemingly burst of friendliness. Dara just couldn't help himself; he leaned over and gave Graff a brotherly kiss on the forehead. The newborn looked surprised, but in a good sense. The elder son said softly, "-He's the cutest baby, ever." Darlene just about teared up; she couldn't believe how much they seemed to care about each other. "My little angels," she sighed, contently, nuzzling them close. Baby Graff was soon asleep again, his little fist curled around his big brother's offered fingers. Still being a rather infant age himself, Dara soon gave into slumber, and napped in his mother's arms with the baby. Darlene held her precious little ones, as any good mother would, watching over them as they slept, full of awe and happiness. It was a moment and feeling worth more than any riches or wealth of the world; a true and rare 'gem'-like memory that the mother warthog would treasure for the rest of her life. And from that day on, the Warthogg brothers were inseparable.
A month, more or less, passed. Dara had been put to bed, and Graff too, was asleep, as Stanley and Darlene were conversing in hushed tones, so as to not wake their children. It was a hot, humid night, quite natural for the climate of their region, the Southern land of Mobius. The adult male was in mood of sorts; half of the reason of their conversation. Means of work and providing were growing small and slim of late in their town, and Stanley was starting to consider what others were mentioning. Darlene, of course, was shocked at this. "-Stanley, you can't be serious!" Us... leave... here?" "-Darlene, ah know it sound brash, but ah'm startin' ta think it's the only way!" The female rubbed her temples, trying to prevent the headache from worsening. "No... it can't be!" Stanley, we've always managed here-" Her husband sighed, "It called a droppin' economy, Darlene, there nothin' we can do about it." Hard times call for hard choices, and considerin-" "-But... we've been here forever!" We were both raised here, married here, and our babies were born here-" Darlene cried. "-Ah know, ah know this, Darlene," Stanley insisted. "Yeh have ta believe me when ah say ah don't wanna leave here anymore than yah do." But now that things are gettin' worse 'round here, and we got two little ones ta provide for, we can't exactly stand our ground too firm no more." His wife bit her lip, despairingly. "-Oh, I know... but still... us move to the city??" Stanley, we don't know anything about-" "-We will soon enough," the male said firmly. "And come now... no need to worry so much... if any of them city slickers get smart, ah'll learn 'em not to cross me, in a good 'ol Southern matter, and they'll know to give us a wide berth, ah promise yeh, Darlene love." The female knew well how her mate could get respect or fear out of people. Her protesting was growing weak reason now, but she tried one last thing. "-I suppose... yet one thing still worries me, Stanley." "-And that be?" The mother warthog stood over the cradle nearby, the baby fast asleep. She gently stroked his downy mane. "-I just... hate to travel so far, with our boys being so small... Graff alone is barely a month old, just a baby!" she pleaded, pitifully. "Is going so far right now, such a good idea?" Stanley gave her a rather disappointed look. "-For Pete's sake, Darlene, yeh make it sound like we're makin' 'em WALK there!" They're plenty capable of toleratin' it." Dara knows how to sit quietly and Graff knows how to be held and lie at peace, don't they?" They'll LIVE, woman, without a doubt." His wife lowered her gaze, mournfully. She looked in such a way, that Stanley tried to reassure her. "-Really, this could be a GOOD thing for us, love." They say the city's got plenty of opportunity and full of life." We be both ADULTS here; we know how ta adjust." Could be a good thing for the boys too; they'll git to meet new children their age, and Dara might even make some mates and all." Do that sound so bad?" Hearing it in this tone didn't as much, Darlene admitted, lightly. And she very well knew, there was no use in persisting any further against the matter at this point; you didn't argue with Stanley once his mind was made up. Her weak nature got to her; she gave in, without protest. "-Very well, Stanley... if you insist so, it shall be then." We will go to Romatropolis."
And so, the Warthoggs soon packed their belongings and whatever they were able to take, and in less than a week, found themselves beginning the journey by horse-drawn carriage, driving on the safer and main road of the country. True, it was shorter traveling through the desert, but obviously, you didn't want to be in a hazardous and unpredictable environment like that when you had a family and as much luggage as they did. Plus you could easily get lost there, if you didn't paid enough heed to your surroundings, even if you ignored it for a moment. It was the road less traveled, taken by the more heroic and risking type. But needless to say, Stanley didn't have much patience for that, what he called "foolish bravery balderdash", and the road "taken by idiots with a dead-wish". Sure he wasn't the friendly type, but at least he wasn't thick-skulled when it came to common sense on such topics. And on top of it all, their 'riders' weren't accustomed to such terrain to travel on so, even more the reason for avoidance. It was strange; in a world of advanced evolution, that there were still quite a number of the lesser evolved domestic species surviving and continuing on as they always had. Only difference was in the looks of their 'masters', who now looked like a distant trace of ancestry of them. In fact, it wasn't too out of the ordinary for certain species of Mobians, like horses, cows, cats, dogs, rabbits and birds, to be able to find a domesticated and ancient evolution species of themselves in the world around them. But at the moment, nothing even so remotely interesting was within little Dara's view, in the carriage. He was bored to pieces, his youthful energy ready to burst at the thought of having to sit still for another hour. They'd been riding all day, stopping thrice for a rest and meals. Yet it wasn't enough for the four year old, who'd never been 'shut up' in such a closed and limited space for so long. He wanted to run outside, to shout and laugh, and play. The young warthog wondered if it was possible to perish from boredom. He sure FELT like it, in this rigid sitting posture and his tightly shut lips. Baby Graff had displayed somewhat cranky temper earlier on, but had since fallen asleep, and was now deep in slumber, in Darlene's arms. Dara considered a nap, but then decided, grumpily, a nap was boring too. He wasn't tired at all. He then starting thinking what seemed 'devious'. Dara began slowly shifting about in his seat, seeing if his mother would notice. She didn't; she was focused on the sleepy infant. So he fidgeted around some more. Still unnoticed, he began placing and replacing himself, in various seated or lying down positions. Then he started somewhat 'drumming' his hands against his lap, and then started swinging his legs out and back in, sometimes hitting the seat. Just when he began to feel a little better, he then heard his father's voice call to him, in a gruff tone, "-Dara, will ya please sit still??" That's enough." Dara immediately froze, as Stanley's gaze riveted onto him. He gave an ashamed, yet pouting look, to show his mood. His father gave him a look. "-S'matter?" The child mumbled, "-I'm bored, Daddy." We've been drivin' all day..." Just as the father warthog seemed about to scold him, Darlene spoke, "-Stan, I think he's right there." We've been on the road for hours, and this ain't no environment for a small boy... we need to stop... SOON, at most." Even 'I' need the air." Stanley considered this. He sighed, appearing somewhat irritated. But his wife pressed, "-Please, love... where's the next closest place we can stop by for the night?" The husband slowly replied, "-Well... ah was gonna say we go on fer another two hours, til we reach the Northern Point place... but ah suppose we could stop in forty minutes, at the Esquriel Lot, instead, if yer gonna be insistin' all night..." "-That'll be fine," Darlene said, gratefully. "How does that sound, sweetie?" she asked Dara, gently. Dara nodded eagerly. "-Good!" "-Alright then, pumpkin, you just sit still for awhile longer, okay?" Her son grinned, and did as she asked, excited it was almost over and they'd soon be in a new and wondrous place. Darlene smiled, and cuddled little Graff.