A/N: Mommui: Honestly a decent chunk of Kew-Kew was inspired by the various cannibal tribes of Redwall canon. Think, the Painted Ones, the Flitchaye etc etc. The rest of his mannerisms are mostly what I imagine someone who thinks they're an eagle would act like. In a way he's a feral child... but he's also a wearet which is already a freak of nature.
ferretWARLORD: Ah yes, poor Rolf. How cruel the world is when you are a naive little mouse... Also Rolf thinks it's a bonus if his family never finds out the truth. Because it would be a very awkward conversation for him to admit that he stole about... twenty or so trophies and passed them as hiw own? Kew-Kew was raised by an eagle, who I imagine have a far more straightforward outlook on life. I say nothing on the subject of mouse eating but I can say that Rolf and Kew-Kew aren't going eagle hunting juuuuuust yet. So for the time being Rolf is safe from the wearet's mouth.
Sebias: I think the fact that Rolf's family is the stereotypical normal kind just makes the fact that they live with Kew-Kew that much more hilarious. It's the contrast that counts. I had a lot of fun with Rolf's introduction, for perhaps obvious reasons :P I think the fact that Kew-Kew does beat him up so easily is supposed to be yet another clue that Rolf *isn't* a good fighter. There's a bunch of others of course, introduced with all teh subtlety of a sledgehammer. Most notably the Ralph tropies and Rolf's inner thoughts. Rolf daydreaming isn't really a callback to Fret- I just like writing dreams and daydreams so a bunch of my characters are dreamers.
I had a blast with the names XD I honestly think Plomplemoof is an excellent name for a city of fighters, because it's just so ridiculous and well, to my ears sounds fluffy :P The Barfing Bird is, as you should all know, a reference to Seamus of the Wildcards. The seasick raven in the crow's nest. I think it was Sycamore who said it would be a great inn name. On that note I should also say that the idea for a wolverine lady who sells plushies was Rascal's. Speaking of Rascal...
Kew-Kew belched loudly and patted a full belly with a sigh of contentment. Rolf was truly an excellent roommate.
He had found pancakes for Kew-Kew!
"Is that all or would you like some drinks?" demanded the waiter, a burly toad who was eyeing the happy wearet (who had just demonstrated the worst table manners in The Barfing Bird's long history of horrible table manners) with mild disgust.
"I'll have a beer," muttered Rolf. He paused briefly to glance in Kew-Kew's direction. "He'll have some milk."
"Hmph, light weight is he?" the gruff waiter turned and hopped away without waiting for a reply.
"No, but he's bad enough sober…" Rolf sighed and passed a paw over the fur between his ears. Things could be worse, he told himself. Things can always be worse. Ralph still doesn't know about the trophies. My family still don't know about my job...
The prospect of hunting eagles did not exactly appeal to him, and was made even less appealing by Kew-Kew's repeated declarations that he was the 'most tasty mousey-thing ever!' but if that's what it took to keep his secret safe, he'd do it.
After all, I'll take it to my grave if an eagle does eat me.
"So, Rolfie always lets Ralphie win?" Kew-Kew pondered, licking his platter clean.
"It's my job," Rolf shrugged.
"And Rolfie pretends to be big mousey-champie-thing to make Rolfie feel better than Rolfie is?"
Says the wearet who thinks he's a bird… "Yes."
"Kraw," Kew-Kew shook his head from side to side and raised a claw to the heavens in a mockery of every wise beast there ever was. "Mousey-thing should just be mousey-thing! Rolfie is not having to be something Rolfie is not."
The black-eyed mouse gritted his teeth, and pinched the tip of his snout. It was all he could do to remain calm. I am being lectured on the subject of identity by the single most misguided creature on this good earth…
"Family and Kew-Kew will love Rolfie anyway," Kew-Kew placed his pink paw on Rolf's shoulder. "Because Rolfie is bestest roommate."
"They'd like me a lot less if they knew the truth."
Before Kew-Kew could respond to that, the grumpy toad waiter returned with their drinks; a large tankard of milk for Kew-Kew and a small cup of beer for Rolf.
"Stick around," he said in a tone that suggested he wanted them gone as soon as possible. "The Battle of the Bards begins in five."
"Bard?" Kew-Kew turned to Rolf for guidance. Normally Margaret was the one who translated strange words to him, but in her absence he'd settle for her brother.
"A beast that sings," the small mouse sipped at his drink and let out another long-suffering sigh. "The Barfing Bird- that's the name of this place- hosts a Battle of the Bards every other week. They keep trying to replace their current performer but…" he eyed the corner of the inn, where a massive mole, half as tall and twice as burly as Kew-Kew, fiddled nervously with a drum. "Barrumtum has other plans…"
"Fat mole-thing fight other bardies?" Kew-Kew lapped at his milk, his tone inquisitive and excited.
"Not always physically, though that does happen sometimes." Rolf scratched the back of his neck. "Pretty often actually. But whoever sings the best gets hired... In theory."
"Ladies and gentlebeasts," grumbled the toad waiter, "Welcome one and all to our Battle of the Bards. We have three new challengers today- vying for the prestigious position of Bard of the Barfing Bird."
There came a dull cheer from the crowd (many of whom were beginning to leave), and a deafening cry of 'Keeeeeraw!' from Kew-Kew.
"Without further ado, pleeease welcome the 'Amaaaaazing' Kali."
The strangest thing Rolf had ever seen before meeting Kew-Kew had been a mild-mannered, justice-seeking bookworm of a snake. After meeting Kew-Kew, the strangest thing Rolf had ever seen had been Kew-Kew. The new strangest thing he had ever seen now stood on a cheap platform (a bar stool) and strummed at a lute.
It had the long, pointy ears, the narrow muzzle and the rust-coloured fur of a fox, the weight and wide frame of a beast who enjoyed pie a little too much, and the leathery black wings of a demon from Hellgates.
Kew-Kew screeched in excitement, pointed a gnarled claw at the bard and declared for all to hear. "Singing bad-thing! I knows it!"
"You do?" Incredulous, Rolf swivelled around to face his companion. "I thought you didn't know what a bard was?"
"Is singing-thing!" Kew-Kew huffed. "Rolfie just explained." Then the wearet was excited again. "Kali told Kew-Kew all about making pancakes!"
Rolf, who had been on the receiving end of the eagle's cooking more than once, narrowed his eyes, his face darkening. "Did she?"
Kew-Kew nodded enthusiastically. "When Kew-Kew was nothing but little eggchick..."
"Today is day!" cried Kew-Kew, skipping towards the edge of the Flapping Branch, the place from which all young eagles took their first flight. His mother had, of course, told him he wasn't ready but Kew-Kew had seen a dozen hatchlings take the jump and soar into the air and was now convinced that it was his turn to do so.
The young eagle stretched his wings wide, stiffened his tail, crouched low and readied himself for the leap of a lifetime. Today was going to be different. He had tied a few of his mother's longest feathers to the sides of his skinny wings and flapped his arms with all the confidence in the world. This time Kew-Kew was going to hop off the edge of the branch, catch a draft of wind and fly, high into the sky. He would circle around the Flapping Branch and then glide in the wake of his mother who had gone hunting for the day. And then he could go hunting with her! Oh, how the preythings would shiver in the cold shadow of their wings! How they would tremble at the sound of their hunting cries!
"Today is day!" Kew-Kew declared, springing upwards in a flurry of limbs and feathers. For a moment he was gaining altitude, the ground beneath him was growing further away and a feeling of triumph swelled and filled him from nose to toe-tip.
The next moment he was falling gracelessly towards the ground below.
"KeerAAAAAAAH!"
Luckily for Kew-Kew, he did not hit soft ground underneath the Flapping Branch. He did hit something soft though, was bounced into the air again (though not quite as high this time) and rolled to his talons, his wings spread wide.
"Kraw! Who goes through the land of Kew-Kew?" hissed the young eagle, flapping on the spot in a show of domination that would terrify any preything into obedience. His eyes narrowed at the sight of a dazed-looking, deformed bird-thing that looked as if they had flown into a tree and been beset by swarms of feather-eating maggots.
"Oooooow," the creature stumbled onto a pair of short, awkwardly-made legs, it's own wings rubbing at a bruised stomach- Kew-Kew's landing spot.
"What is you?" Kew-Kew wondered aloud, sniffing the air with a great deal of caution. "Bad eggchick?"
Seemingly for the first time, the strange creature noticed Kew-Kew's presence. "Oh I'm a flying fox. We're a type of..." she trailed off at the sight of the small, skinny wearet dressed in feathers.
"Preything!" finished the delighted Kew-Kew. He had caught his first preything! He could already imagine the look of shere delight on his mother's face.
"A… what?" Kali's awkward laughter shook with nervousness. Her mind immediately darted to the dozens of cannibal tribes said to reside throughout the known world. Sometimes it felt like she had ran into half of them. The flying fox stopped laughing and swallowed. "Hi."
"Hello preything," greeted Kew-Kew, circling the fat bat. Her ears and wings had next to no meat on them but she sported a paunch so impressive his mouth watered. "I is Kew-Kew," he managed through the slobber.
"Kew-Kew, that's a nice name!" the bard continued to spin in a circle so as not to expose her back to whatever standing in front of her was. Her only hope was flying away but she had been advised against doing so in a country swarming with eagles. "I-I'm Kali by the-" the bat froze. The half-feathered monstrosity had drawn closer, and was now sniffing intently at every inch of fur he could get pale, pink and furless paws on.
"Stinky," whined the wearet all of a sudden. "Preything is stinky!"
"I do not stink!" protested Kali hotly.
"Stinking of fear," Kew-Kew huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Can't eat it now."
The bat was quick to change tack. "Yes! I stink, I stink! I'm smelly and filthy and disgusting an-and sometimes I wallow in mud- I mean- did I say mud? Well I meant my own filth! Yeah! Coz I stink..."
"But I is hungryyyyy." A lightbulb went off inside his keen, intelligent mind. "Does preything have any food?"
"Well not much," Kali dug through her travelsack until she withdrew a squashed and rolled-up pancake. "I was saving this for lunch though so maybe we could find you some nice berries-"
"Kraw!" The pancake was swiped clean from her wing in half-a-heartbeat and devoured in less than two. The wearet bit into it with a gusto and felt his mouth explode with flavour. "Krrrrrrrrrrrraw," he purred, taking another bite of the preything's heavenly lunch.
Kali watched in horror as her last snack- the one she had been saving for so long- was devoured right before her eyes. Several bites later, Kew-Kew belched with all the politeness of a beast of the jungle (in other words very loudly). There was no hope for the poor pancake.
"Keeraw! Preything make much good food," he said licking satisfied lips. "More for Kew-Kew?"
"I don't have any more," Kali swallowed, watching the undergrowth around her as if expecting more abominable wearet brats to appear and steal all her pancakes. "B-but they're not hard to make- j-just flour and water really."
Pancakes were generally made from somewhat more complex ingredients but Kali was not a baker.
Kew-Kew scowled and eyed her wide middle with pure loathing. "Stupid fat preything. Eating alla the food." Then the feathered fiend's face brightened. "So what is fat stupid preything? Is not mousey, is not eagle, is not eggchick-"
"I'm a flying fox-"
"Fox-things no flap-fly." Kew-Kew shook his head. Clearly he was dealing with an incredibly unintelligent beast. "Mother of Kew-Kew once threw fox-thing out of nest. And foxy only crash-smash everywhere."
Kali swallowed. "But I am-"
"Do not lie to Kew-Kew," the wearet child chided, wings akimbo. "I is smarter than lying not-fox-thing."
"Alright, you caught me... I... am... a... bard!" Kali raised her lute like a hammer. "And I am not going to be eaten today!"
"Bard?" To her surprise, the feathered buffoon cocked his head to the side.
"A beast that sings." Kali explained, strumming at her lute.
"Oooooooh!", Kew-Kew cooed, his eyeballs widening.
Before she knew what she was doing Kali began to play a lively, upbeat tune. The kind a crazy, cannibal child dressed in feathers would appreciate. Because Kali was nothing if not considerate of her audience.
She closed her eyes and started to sing the song of her homeland. It was a far off place she only vaguely remembered, filled with jungles and monsters and plants that ate beasts. But the song was good.
The air was alive with screeching and painful yelps and cries of terror and pain. All the worst noises in the world- chalk on a blackboard, claws raked against metal, the scream of a rusty door's hinge- rested within Kali's music.
Kew-Kew was amazed. His feathered arms dropped to the side. His jaw stood agape. His tail wagged behind him. "It's beautiful," he cawed, tears of joy and sadness swimming in his eyes and beginning to slide down his cheeks.
Kali stopped singing abruptly. One of her loot strings popped with a loud TWANG! as she blinked into reality. "Y-you really think so?" She tried to make it sound casual of course, but the note of hopefullness and the visible perking up of her ears ruined the effect somewhat.
"Is best thing Kew-Kew ever heard," the eagle confirmed, nodding vigorously as he brushed away his tears. "M-majestic! Like- like cry of a dying eagle!"
"I'll take what I can get!" Kali whooped, as unparalleled joy flooded through her entire form. "Finally after all these seasons the universe smiles on me! I have a fan! I'm appreciated! I am amaaaaaaazing!"
"You is also easy preything." Kew-Kew grinned and pointed a dirty claw at the humongous eagle now casting it's shadow over the bard. "Meet mother of Kew-Kew!"
Kali glanced upwards and swallowed. A pair of glowing eyes bore down on her like a pair of miniature suns. "H-hi," squeaked the bard.
"Hello." Kew-Kew's mother opened her beak wide, and swallowed the bat whole.
"Your mother ate her?" Rolf was frowning with skepticism, as he stared up at Kew-Kew's wide-open maw.
The wearet, who had been acting out his entire story and now stood atop the table, his face inches away from Rolf's, shrugged. "Not in front of Kew-Kew, but is what mother said and mother of Kew-Kew isn't big liar like Rolfie."
"Stupid, fat preything sing much-good." Kew-Kew complained, prodding his mother's stomach. "Sings better than it tastes mammy."
"Yes yes, Kew-Kew, but I was hungry." Despite the roll of her great, eagle eyes Kew-Kew's mother still nuzzled him with affection. "You hungry too?"
The young wearet nodded eagerly, and forgot all about Kali the bard. "Yes! Much hungry mammy! Kew-Kew almost flap-fly today! Was flying high! But then saw preything and went hunting."
"Of course you did," she cooed. "Now open wide."
Kew-Kew did as he was bid, and stretched his jaws open.
"N-no needs to recreate that Kew-Kew!" Rolf shoved the wearet's face as far away from his own as he possibly could, uncomfortably aware that more beasts were staring at him and the wearet's various antics then at the bard- who had yet to sing and was still determinedly playing her lute. "I-I know how eagles feed their young..." It was not an incident he liked to recall... "Now can you please get off the table?"
Shrugging, Kew-Kew hopped back onto his stool, picked up his tankard of milk and turned to cheer on the bard. "Kraw! Sing Bardy-bard! Sing like dying eagle!"
The urge to burst into song was strong in Kali, and it now fought an endless war with her need for a job. On the one wing, music was as much a part of her as her wings and talons were, on the other she really liked having a full belly.
And she had been fired from every job she had ever had the minute she opened her mouth.
So Kali resisted the urge, shut her eyes, kept her muzzle clamped shut and strummed away at her precious lute. And things were going well! Somebeast was chattering loudly in the background but everybeast else was likely giving her their full attention. They weren't cheering exactly, but they weren't booing either. And the more they didn't boo the easier it was to ignore the little voice in the back of her head that kept telling her to sing.
"Kraw! Sing Bardy-bard!"
Sometimes the voice was a little louder... and spoke in a different voice... Because it definitely wasn't her audience telling her to-
"Sing like dying eagle!"
-sing in oddly specific ways... Cautiously, she raised an eyelid and scanned the small crowd. A few were watching with mild interest, many were too drunk to know good music when they heard it, and near the back a single wearet was looking on in obvious excitement.
Nevertheless Kali was satisfied. They were asking for it! She sucked air into her lungs until her chest swelled and her cheeks bulged.
"The caaaaaaaaaaaaaaves are aaaaaaaaaliiiiive with the sound of MUUUUUSIC!"
Rolf clamped his paws over his ears as, next to him, Kew-Kew screeched in triumph and burst into applause. The rest of the Barfing Bird were screaming or else calling for silence and making various other noises of protest.
"With songs they have suuuung for THOUUUSANDS of yeeears..." Kali trailed off, the confidence leaking out of her like air from a popped balloon as the cacophony of booing increased in pitch and volume.
"NEXT!" barked the grumpy toad waiter, giving the fruit bat a not-so-gentle shove off of the makeshift stage.
"Kraw! But Kali-thing sing much good," Kew-Kew complained, as Barrumtum stepped onto the stage.
"'Ullo everybeast," the mole swallowed audibly. "Today oi'll be a playin' ee a zong called 'Through 'Ee Rocky Tunnel Te Yore 'eart'." Clearing his throat, the bard began to beat at his drum. Then, with a voice like churned-up gravel. Barrumtum began to sing.
"Oi knows a place ee'll never foind, behoind burly bowlders an' betwixt narsty owd mountins-"
"Bring Kali-thing back!" Kew-Kew cawed grumpily. "Mole-thing can't sings like worm!"
The entire inn held it's breath as Barrumtum stopped playing abruptly, his lips quivering. Everybeast breathed a massive sigh of relief (nobeast more than Rolf) when the mole began to beat his drum again.
"Over a sunroise-"
"Oh give it a rest, will ye?" snapped a drunken stoat near the front as they stumbled for the door. "Ye sing like a ninety year old toad who swallowed a bee the wrong way."
Barumtum put down the drum.
"Oh no," Rolf's ears flattened in horror as all around him the regular patrons stampeded towards the door with no sense of grace or dignity. The mouse put down his glass of beer and hurried to join them. "Time to go!"
"But I is not finishing my drink yet," Kew-Kew protested, holding up a half-full tankard of milk in one paw and restraining Rolf with the other.
"J-just take it with you!" the mouse squeaked, squirming against the wearet's grip. "B-Barrumtum's about to go berserk and you do not want to be here when he does!"
"Ber- serk?" the eagle cawed inquisitively, cocking his head to the side.
"Gaaaaaaaah! Kew-Kew let me go!" The ominous cracking of knuckles did nothing to help the unfortunate mouse's rapidly-increasing heart rate.
"YOU'M BE DISSURVIN' AN SMACK!" roared Barrumtum the mole, reducing an entire table into nothing but splinters with one downward stroke of his digging claws. His blood-red eyes darted around the empty room until they landed upon Kew-Kew and a very terrified Rolf.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" screamed Rolf, his heart threatening to burst from his chest.
"KEEEEEEEEEEERAAAAAAAAW!" cried Kew-Kew, his eyes widening in awe of the mighty mole.
"GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!" roared Barrumtum, tearing a table in two as if it were nothing more than a piece of paper, and hurling both sides at his 'critics'.
Kew-Kew threw Rolf into the air and out of the way, before ducking under one half of the table, and leaping over the other.
"Kraw! Mole-thing can throw better than that!" taunted the wearet, as the screaming Rolf hit the ground besides him with a groan.
Barrumtum roared again, seized a stool and flung it towards his opponent with extreme prejudice.
Kew-Kew caught it, spun in place and used the stool to bat away the next thing Barrumtum threw at him.
Unfortunately, he batted it in the direction of Rolf, who had just managed to find his feetpaws before the flung furniture flew at him and sent the mouse skidding across the Barfing Bird's floor.
"That's gonna bruise," Rolf groaned, forcing himself to sit up. He regretted doing so a moment later, when a table leg spun into his face. "That too..." Another broken table leg whizzed overhead.
"Hihihihihi! Mole-thing can't hit Kew-Kew! Mole-thing can't hit Kew-Kew!" the eagle chanted, batting aside everything Barrumtum threw at him in what was probably the most intense game of cricket in Plomplemoof's entire history. Chairs, tables, cups, tankards, mugs, glasses, even the unfortunate innkeep were all flung towards the happy wearet who smacked them aside without fail.
"I'll sue you both!" croaked the grumpy toad waiter, who at least had a reason to be grumpy, now that half his face was swollen purple. "I'll sue you b- ack!" An entire table, courtesy of Barrumtum, put an end to all the amphibian's current suing endeavours.
Rolf winced, but didn't like the toad enough to offer immediate medical assistance. "He'll be fiiiine," the mouse swallowed, ducking behind the counter where he was mostly safe from stray bits of furniture. "I've had worse bruises than that."
Upon running out of furniture entirely, Barrumtum ceased his futile efforts of striking from a distance and instead charged directly towards Kew-Kew. The mole's long, curved digging claws had sent shivers down the spines of Plomplemoof's greatest fighters but Kew-Kew had seen larger talons on eggchicks.
Entirely unphased by the preything's roaring, Kew-Kew hopped onto a broken table and out of the way of Barrumtum's first swing. He skipped over the second swipe of the mole's dreaded claws and retaliated by spinning around and slamming his furless tail across the mole's face.
"Kraw! Mole-thing can't hit Kew-Kew! Mole-thing can't hit Kew-Kew! Hihihihihihi!" the wearet skipped forwards, and bounced from the top of Barrumtum's head towards a chandelier above. Briefly, he flew through the air, but the chandelier had not been made for swinging on and broke under his weight.
A shadow fell upon Rolf, and just as the wide-eyed mouse looked up to scream, it was followed by Kew-Kew's feathery rump.
THUMP!
"Not best landing of Kew-Kew," the wearet mused, oblivious to his roommate's presence beneath him. The wearet shrugged. "Not worst landing either." He stood up and dusted himself, before flapping onto the counter with a cry of 'Keeeeeraw!' and a great flap of his wings, to continue his battle with Barrumtum.
Rolf, though thankful Kew-Kew's landing hadn't broken his neck, was having one of the worst days of his life. First, he had gotten fired, then Ralph had beaten him up, then Kew-Kew had discovered his secret and now he was in the middle of a bar fight.
"Sing Kew-Kew a song bard-thing!"
"Stupid wearet," Rolf muttered, spitting feathers out of his mouth. He did not want to think about how they had gotten there. "I'm beginning to think he is worse than Ralph..."
Another shadow fell upon the unfortunate mouse before he could pursue the thought further. Rolf merely sighed.
This time the shadow was followed by Barrumtum. Winded on impact, Rolf was quite sure the mole's landing had made a miniature crater. He didn't have time to find out however, as barely a moment later the mole was on his feetpaws and searching for something to throw.
Unfortunately, the only thing behind the counter with any decent weight behind them was Rolf himself.
Picking the mouse up by the tail, Barrumtum spun him over his head like a great bola, his red eyes still focused solely on Kew-Kew. "Oi'll gives 'ee a zong! At yon funeral!"
Rolf spun head over-tail as he flew through the air, and came to an abrupt halt in Kew-Kew's paws.
"Hello Rolfie!" grinned the happy eagle, gently setting his roommate down. "Mole-thing much fun, yes?"
"I think I'm going to be sick," groaned the mouse, stumbling dizzily towards the door. Which, of course, burst open on his face.
"There ye are Kew!" cried Auslag. "I've been lookin' all over for ye." She held up Kew-Kew's eclectic collection of items. "Yew left all this when ye went lookin' for yer mouse." The plushie-maker narrowed her eyes. "What... are ye doin'?"
"Playing with angry mole," Kew-Kew gestured helpfully in the direction of a furiously charging Barrumtum, before side-stepping the mole's violent swings.
"Did ye find yer mouse?"
"Yes, Kew-Kew did!" Kew-Kew chirped, dancing around Barrumtum's offensive. "Rolfie is behind door."
Auslag closed the door so as to take a peek at the mouse squashed behind it. "I see. Well if ye don't mind me takin' advantage of yew..." Turning on her heel, the wolverine put on her salesbeast voice and hollered into the streets. "Hey! There's a fight goin' on! Three silvers te watch!"
Before Rolf had the chance to move out of the way the door burst open in his face again. A crowd of cheering, over-excited and outright bloodthirsty creatures surged in to watch and take bets. Before Auslag could so much as say 'Kew-Kew', her arms were filled with coins.
"They're fighting! They're fighting Barrumtum!" cried an over-excited weasel.
"Break his leg!" advised an old shrew.
"Give him a left one, son!" cheered a ferret.
"Let him have it!"
"Hey! That's the beast that beat Alphonso!"
Barrumtum swiped at the eagle with vicious intent, but Kew-Kew darted out of the way before the bard's digging claws could make impact. The mole swung again but the eagle was far too nimble.
Kew-Kew, enjoying himself immensely, hopped around the enraged bard as Barrumtum swung again and again. Occasionally he retaliated a little, and now sent the mole stumbling backwards with a well-timed shove.
"Ka-kaw!" Before Barrumtum could recover, Kew-Kew flapped atop the mole's head and leapt onto the face of a burly stoat near the front of the crowd. His tail wagging from side to side, Kew-Kew twisted and blew a mocking raspberry before diving headlong into the sea of beasts and disappearing within.
Barrumtum roared, and flung himself headlong into the audience. Rats, stoats, ferrets, hares- all sorts of creatures were sent hurtling through space in the mole's hunt for the eagle.
"Everybeast run for yer lives!" Auslag cried, sprinting for the exit.
It had taken a great deal of effort but Rolf had finally managed to open the door. With a sigh of relief he stretched a footpaw towards freedom, only to be crushed beneath a stampede of beasts apparently no longer interested in seeing a fight. A dozen feetpaw stomped him into the dirt until he was quite sure there was a crater around him.
Pulling himself upwards, Rolf spat dust and grit from between his buckteeth. "Thank you Kew-Kew, this is officially the worst day of my life."
"It's about te get worse son," came a gruff voice from above, belonging to one of Plomplemoof's city guards. "Yer under arrest for participating in unlawful combat practices."
Rolf merely sighed and sunk back into his crater.
Footnote: Woooot, the second longest chapter of this story. And one of the more fun to write (but then I had a lot of fun to write).
Barrumtum was my application to the berserker category of MOV. He's a liiiiittle bit over sensitive when it comes to his music. He also can't sing. Which makes him the inverse of Kali- who can't sing but deals with it. They are both equally misguided and think themselves to be great singers.
Kali is the incredibly fun creation of Rascal who was kind enough to let me use her here.