AN: I am back and kicking butt. I am also very, very sick and had to take a sick day off from work. So yeah. Go to AO3 if you want deeper Author Notes (it's at the bottom).
The Great Divide: A period during the 2nd century of King Andrias Leviathan's rule which led to the socioeconomic and political downfall of Amphibia as a kingdom due to territorial fracture caused by various contested factors including but not limited to: lack of support from Newtopia to the outer colonies, the unexplained loss of communication technologies, failure in major and minor logistics, political strife within Newtopia's central court, and abuse of power from noble families after the sudden death of King Aldrich Leviathan, Andrias's father, that left a power vacuum in his stead.
Five Founding Families: The five powerful noble families which founded Newtopia roughly 3 millenia ago. These five were the Lilypads, the Leopolds, the Leviathans, the Larns and the Livres. Myths state that the five families banded together to fight a so-called "Calamity Beast" whose corpse was then carved into the city of Newtopia, acting a symbol of solidarity and unity. As of today, only three of the families still exist: the Lilypads, the Leviathans and the Leopolds, but only the first two still participate in Newtopian Royal Court.
While historians of Amphibian history have studied deeply the events surrounding and during the Great Divide, many focus on the cause of Amphibia's Dark Ages but less on its very peak. Or more aptly, its very bottom. While the quality of life reduced dramatically during that period and continued to reduce, it eventually reached rock bottom during the start of the 3rd century in an event known as the Blue Blood Massacre. Several interviews had been enacted with the ruler of Newtopia regarding this event over the years but each time, the story differs, either slightly or otherwise.
During the night at the beginning of the 3rd century, decades have passed during the Great Divide period (which was not recognised as such at that moment). To celebrate the new century, King Andrias Leviathan set up a ballroom party and invited key members of Newtopia's noble families. Evidence states that the party was lavish and extremely expensive, costing the kingdom an entire year's worth of income, despite the economic difficulties the same kingdom was facing.
From here, the story changes. In some accounts, it was said that the party was ambushed by a number of rebels from a splintered political faction. In others, it's said that King Andrias himself snet his own personal guard to attack the guests. There are even written statements, saying that King Andrias funded these rebels in order to cover his tracks. Regardless of motive, the events themselves remained the same; on that night, the guests were attacked by a group of unknown assailants, targetting specific members of certain families as well as torching their homes while they were away. These attacks occurred across Amphibia, hitting businesses and homes, and crippling or even wiping out entire bloodlines.
So many were killed during the Blue Blood Massacre. Entire families were wiped, down to their most distant cousins. In the end, only three of the Five Founding Families survived that night: the Leviathans, the Leopolds and the Lilypads. However, the Leopolds were said to have not participated in the party itself, earning dangerous accusations and thus, were forced to drop out of the court. The Lilypads, however, lost their main family branch, as well as their seconds and thirds, but survived at a heavy cost. King Andrias himself was heavily injured during the attack and although he survived through the use of undisclosed magicks, he was left impotent. Yet, his health improved drastically, allowing the Leviathans to be the only family mostly unaffected by the events of that night.
— Sir McClincroak, excerpt from "Brief History Of Amphibia Vol 2"
"I'M GROUNDED?!"
Ever had that moment in life where you did something – it may or may not be genuinely terrible, debatably – and you went on with you day, thinking 'I bet this thing I did won't definitely bite me in the butt!' like some boob? Well, that was exactly what's happening.
In the middle of the woods, in the middle of Amphibia and quite literally at that, a family of walking and talking frog farmers – Hop Pop, Sprig and Polly – were travelling to Newtopia, the capital city of Amphibia. With them was Sasha Waybright, the world's greatest, most skilled and most mature 14-year-old teenage girl. On normal days, the relationship between Sasha and the frogs was cordial and even tight-knit. However, one difficult decision threatened to unravel those strong bonds.
Sasha Waybright, the same teenager, was having a tantrum. You know, like all 14-year-olds do.
Standing beside her was her guardian, an honest and dependable frog by the name of Hop Pop. Despite not having any visible ears, he cringed. Hop Pop poked and massaged his ear holes. "Did you really have to scream that loud?"
"You can't ground me! I've never been grounded before!"
Surprisingly, she wasn't lying. Although she didn't look like it, Sasha was actually a very well-mannered girl. She rarely got into trouble and was beloved by many back in her community. She was respected, looked up to and even admired.
It helped that she was super popular, her parents weren't around to discipline her and she had a curly-haired scapegoat for a best friend, but that has nothing to do with this.
His hands on his hips, Hop Pop raised a brow. "Then consider this a new experience. Besides, what made you think you wouldn't get punished after the mess you pulled at Ribbitvale?"
"But I fixed Wally's daddy issues! I should be rewarded!"
"Yes, after making it worse." He sharply pointed out. "You could've been in way bigger trouble if it didn't go well."
Sasha stammered nervously. She then grabbed her brother-slash-best friend, Sprig Plantar, and lifted him up in front of her like some kind of human shield. "W-w-well, what about Sprig? He caused half of it!"
"I like to be included." Sprig said, smiling.
Hop Pop sighed. "Please don't throw your brother under the crab-bus." He replied, exasperated. "Now, until we reach Newtopia, you are to stay in the fwagon. You can open the windows if you want and even play board games, but you aren't to take your foot off of this here hunk of wood. Understood?"
"This is bullfrog!"
From her perspective, this was entirely unjustified. Sasha Waybright, the very best girl, now sent to figurative-jail for the crime of fixing familial relationships? How was this fair? She demanded a true legal proceeding, a court with Sasha-fans as the unbiased jury and a Hollywood celebrity as a lawyer.
Unfortunately, in the middle of the forest, Hop Pop was all three the judge, jury and executioner. Sucks to be her.
Still in her firm grip, Sprig wiggled for attention. "Hey, if you want, what if I stay in here with you? We'll be fwagon-mates! We'll play checkers and tell gossip."
Hop Pop threw his back and laughed sarcastically. "Ohohoho, you think you can escape your specific penalty, Sprig? I'm not gonna let you off that easily."
"Dangit."
Seeing the pure dread in their faces, Hop Pop crossed his arms, satisfied. Really though, the entire punishment was considerably light, all things considered. Newtopia was only a day's away, so the whole thing would just be an annoyance at best. But being their grandfather, both adopted and real, he knew a bit too well about the two kids, including the best ways to push their buttons.
They'll suck it up. Hopefully.
Shaking Sprig around, Sasha continued to rage. "I WILL NEVER BE YOUR PRISONER! I'M A BAD BI—" Seeing Polly the pollywog nearby, she stopped. "—iiiiiisexual and bad bisexuals DON'T GET GROUNDED!"
Deep in the territory of Frog Valley, known for the fact that it's in a large valley and mostly populated by frogs, a town by the name of Wartwood stood. With a population of around 116 people (though recently, 118) it's an incredibly small town with very little activity. The resident demographic was divided into townies and farmers, both somewhat equal in numbers. The farmers provided raw food and material, whereas the townies used those to create something of greater value to sell to other townies and even farmers.
It was a perfect symbiotic relationship. Due to its stability, it can be very quiet in Wartwood. Very quiet and very serene.
Billy the mailfrog, an average mailfrog, walked towards a house. In his mailfrog uniform, he opened the mailbox of that house and pushed a number of mail inside. He then closed the mailbox and lifted its tiny red mail flag up, signalling the owner that there was mail.
In another world, the flag actually signalled that there was outgoing mail, not that there was mail in the box. This, however, was not that world. As a reminder to some people, liberties can be taken and some things should not be expected to function exactly the same.
By the house, Ron the frog, another average frog, watched as Ron deposited today's mail. From his rocking chair by the porch, he waved. Billy the mailfrog noticed the wave and so, he waved back.
"Morning, Ron." He said.
"Morning, Billy. How's the wife?"
"Fine. How's your leg?"
Ron looked at his leg. It ached slightly. "'Tis fine."
…
…
For the record, these two were apparently best friends. 20 years.
…
…
Just saying.
…
…
Billy the mailfrog tipped his mail hat. "Welp, see ya later, Ron."
Ron nodded back. "See ya."
On an average day, that was the extent of Wartwood's excitement. Nothing was more exciting than incoming mail, as wise newts once said. Thankfully, this was not the average day, otherwise this would've been a very boring story.
"MONSTER ATTACK!"
C-C-C-CRAAAAASH!
Somewhere near Wartwood's city centre, a monster was wrecking havoc, specifically an Armadillidiidae. More commonly known as the 'roly-poly', these van-sized heavily-armoured insects were often docile in nature, eating small bushes and fallen leaves. However, when spooked, they would curl up and go on a rolling rampage, flattening everything in their path.
Once it started rolling, it kept on rolling. Buildings, benches, children, all but speed bumps against this unstoppable force. Frogs, newts and toads alike screamed in horror as their home and beloved town, Wartwood, happened to be in its path of destruction.
There was no stopping. And it's next target; a poor old lady, crossing the street.
FWOOOOSH!
Suddenly, from above the stalls and alleyways, a shadow appeared. It rushed across the rooftops, leaping from building to building. The fearful citizens, once cowering for the lives, looked up with hope-filled eyes and gleeful smiles.
"He's here! He's here!"
The people cried.
"Our hero! Our hero!"
They called out with cheer.
""TRITONIO!""
Just as the roly-poly was about to roll over the elderly woman, Tritonio, a newt with long voluminous hair, jumped right in-between the two. With two swords drawn, he spun and swung his blades at the roly-poly, hitting its hard shell with a clank. He felt the swords bouncing back, yet he persisted, pushing them against the bug. His firm strength, excellent technique and built-up momentum combined, Tritonio shoved the bug just slightly off-course, crashing it into a nearby shallow pond.
The women swooned and men cheered, and Tritonio? He laughed with pride.
"Ha-ha! Have no fear, citizen, for I, the great Tritonio Espada, am here!"
Tritonio Espada – master thief, master fighter and of course, master lover. A newt of many talents, he was the self-proclaimed greatest thief in Amphibia. Throughout his career, he had stolen and nabbed various priceless gems and artefacts from the most secure facilities in the world. Sometimes, he stole for money and other times, it was for the challenge. Due to his infamy, he was often pursued by all manner of hunters and law enforcement. Yet, he was too slippery and never was caught.
'But what about the time with Toad Tower?', you ask. Well, with the tower's destruction, his 'arrest' never actually got submitted. So technically, he still kept his record. So officially, he was never caught.
Officially. This was the one time he supported the legal system.
"Are you alright, señora?" Tritonio asked, turning towards the old lady.
The said old lady, famously known as Mrs Croaker, then hit him with her cane.
TWACK!
"Ah!"
Mrs Croaker shook her cane angrily. "I ain't that old, you twink! Call me señorita like everyone else!"
"Eh, sorry…" Tritonio replied, rubbing his sore thigh.
During that time, the roly-poly unrolled itself and swam out of the pond. It turned towards Tritonio and Mrs Croaker, both preoccupied with their semantics. If the bug was more aggressive, it would attempt to enact revenge against the newt, rolling back into a ball and hurling itself towards Tritonio.
However, roly-polies were docile creatures. Instead of pursuing further harm, it quietly skittered away, no wanting to cause anymore fuss. Seeing the insect leave, the crowd went wild.
"He's done it again!"
"Cheers for Tritonio!"
Tritonio blinked and after immediately recognising the cheers, he smiled. Twirling gracefully, he sheathed his swords and performed a quick tap dance, his heels clacking on the stone road. His performance was spectacular and exotic, like he was at the centre of the world. It amplified the cries and whistles, much to his delight. One frog was even cheering so much, he started foaming in his mouth.
"Thank you, thank you!" Tritonio exclaimed, bowing like the end of a play. He wasn't used to being seen as a hero but not gonna lie, he quite enjoyed it. Quickly checking the straps of his sheaths, he walked away, only to bump into a pint-sized frog, as small as a child.
The frog in question was none other than Toadie, the loyal assistant of Wartwood's mayor and the office's sole secretary. Facing Tritonio, he nodded in acknowledgement. "Wonderful work, Mr Tritonio! You've been protecting the town for a month now and as thanks from Wartwood, I'd like to give you this reward."
From within his vest, Toadie pulled a sizeable bag of glittering gold and silver coins, clinking and jingling with the slightest shake. Before Tritonio knew it, his hand was already creeping up to the bag but hastily, his other hand grabbed the former, holding it back. It took all of his strength to keep it at bay.
"N-no need, small frog. I am only doing what a good citizen would do." Tritonio said, though while struggling. "Also, I am aiming for a bigger prize."
Toadie pulled the bag away, incidentally letting the newt's hands rest, and raised a brow. "What's that?"
"Nothing you need to worry about." He replied with a smirk. "Now, I must be off! For my trophy awaits!"
Without further ado, Tritonio leapt to the air, backflipping onto the town centre's statue. He then jumped to a wall, followed by quickly jumping to another wall, and climbed to the town's thatched roofs. From rooftop to rooftop, he flew majestically. Not literally, of course, but the 'majestic' part was true. Eventually, he arrived at his destination; a modest yet elegant teapot-shaped building, home to Wartwood's own Felicia's Tea Shoppe.
Before entering through the front door, Tritonio stopped by a bed of flowers. He trimmed some off with his sword and wrapping them in a handful of twine, creating a makeshift bouquet. He then loosened his shirt and pulled up his pants, and even took a whiff of his breath.
Perfect.
Swinging the front door, Tritonio announced his presence. "Felicia, my dear, I have returned!"
Felicia's Tea Shoppe, home of the famous tea-and-scones combo meal. The tea was warm and rich, while the scones were soft and moist. With its tasteful décor and beautifully-folded napkins, the small restaurant was a premiere destination for when you want to eat and relax in an environment of elegance and fanciness. Though the tea shop targetted the more well-off demographic of Wartwood's community, its meals were still affordable to even the lower economic class, a reflection of Felicia's generosity and background as a cleaning service worker.
While setting up the tables, Felicia Sundew, owner of Felicia's Tea Shoppe, greeted back. "Oh, good morning, Tritonio. You sure wake up early, don't you?"
"I just love going on morning jogs and admiring the sunrise. I even brought you some flowers. It's very romantic, you see~" Tritonio hummed, presenting the bouquet to the owner. "Maybe we could have a walk together someday? Possibly in the near future, mmm?"
Felicia accepted the flowers with a smile. "Oh, I'd love to but managing a teahouse doesn't exactly provide me with a lot of free time. It's busy work, you know?" She said, before walking away.
Tritonio's cocky and suave smile instantly evaporated. "Oh…" He said, watching Felicia grab an empty vase and placing the flowers inside.
As she set the flowers on the counter, she noticed Tritonio's sudden mood change. If she were to guess, it seemed that Tritonio was somewhat lonely in Wartwood, being the newcomer and all. She could think of one other person in a similar situation and that sparked an idea. "Hmm… But you do have a lot of free time, don't you?"
Tritonio's brows perked and he straightened himself. "I am, after all, a free newt."
Felicia smiled. "Then could you do me a favour?"
"A favour? For you?" Tritonio dashed towards her and flipped onto the counter, landing with bent legs. Sitting on the counter on one knee, he was just slightly taller than Felicia, his eyes staring deep into hers. "I would flip the world for you."
She giggled at the thought. "Well, aren't you a flatterer? No need to go that far."
Felicia walked away from the counter, carrying a tray of napkins to set. While she placed the swan-shaped cloths onto the table, she continued. "Now, it's nothing much, considering that you are a guest in this house. But… I was hoping if it's possible that you befriend with Ivy while you stay here." She asked, to Tritonio's mild surprise. "You see, Ivy and I have always bonded through work hours but that's not exactly the kind of relaxed environment you'd spend with family. So I'm hoping that you'd act as a sort-of male role model for her to aspire and look up to."
Tritonio began stroking his chin. "Male role model, eh? I can do that." He replied. Though, the request made him ponder. "Huh, now that you bring it up, I must peruse; what have become of Mr Sundew?"
Suddenly, Felicia froze. All the candles in the tea shop instantly went out, leaving the room in a threatening darkness.
"We don't talk about Mr Sundew."
"Noted."
Immediately, everything went back to normal. Even the candles relit themselves. Must be one of those fancy self-lighting candles that's all the rage these days.
In order to lighten the mood, Tritonio cleared his throat. "A-hem! Now then, where is that beautiful little bundle of joy?"
"HIYAAAAH!"
STOMP!
Out from his blindspot, a small rotund figure rocketed into the scene. With her leg perfectly straight and rigid, the figure stomped onto the newt's large tail, leaving a child-sized imprint on its wake. Tritonio flinched at the exact moment and instead of exploding into pained confetti, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath – a really deep breath – and exhaled in a single slow burst.
"… Ow." He calmly said. "I see we're still playing 'Hit the Newt in the Tail', and I gotta say; this one's a new record."
The child-sized figure was an actual child, known to the public as Ivy Sundew, sole daughter of Felicia Sundew. She was a short and portly frog, very much unlike her mother, and carried a tomboyish charm due to her frayed overalls and turquoise hat. Unlike Felicia's warm and gentle red hair, Ivy had sharp and striking orange hair, mostly tucked beneath her hat.
She also had a foul mouth, something she was usually careful about.
"I DEFY YOU, YOU OLIVE-OILED TWINK!"
Felicia gasped. "Ivy Hibiscus Matcha Sundew! Who taught you that language?!"
"Ngeh!" Ivy grunted, sticking her tongue out at the newt before scurrying off.
It was at this moment, Tritonio knew he was not prepared. "Oh boy…"
Wartwood was a town. That itself is kinda obvious but like any town, village or recognizable territory, there needed to be some form of management to, well, manage the activities taking place in that territory. For a town like Wartwood, there was the City Hollow, a ginormous building where all the boring politics take place.
Outside one of the building's many offices, Toadie kicked the door open, a rather excessive act to be honest. Unlike before, here he carried with him a couple of lunch bags and a metal pot full of of steaming hot coffee.
"Good morning, sir!" He greeted to the office's only occupant.
Behind a large wooden office desk, surrounded by literal mountains of papers, Wartwood's prime Mayor Toadstool groaned. He didn't much glance at Toadie, so focused on reading the document in his hands. "Morning, Toadie…"
"I hope you had a wonderful breakfast today but if you didn't, then no worries; I got extra." Toadie stated, displaying one of the paper bags. "I also brewed you some coffee – two sugars and and a dash of milk and cinnamon – so that you'll have the brightest and sunniest start of the day!"
Dropping the lunch bag on the desk, Toadie proceeded to pour a cup for the mayor and another for himself. He briskly placed the cup and food besides Toadstool, his footsteps chittering like a sewer rat in heels. He went across the room, drawing the curtains open to let natural light in, and placed his own cup and bag on a nearby coffee-table.
Groggily, Toadstool took a sip of Toadie's brew. Perfectly warm and perfectly sweet; just the way he liked it. "Ah, just the pick-up I needed. Thank you, Toadie."
Toadie also took a sip. "You're welcome, sir!" He said with an innocent smile. He looked at Mayor Toadstool's desk, the towering stacks of papers looming dangerously above the politician. "Wow, sir! Your office has been getting messier and messier every day!"
Toadstool sighed. He was fully aware of it, much to his displeasure. "Ever since that darn farmer challenged me in the mayoral elections, I've been under the scrutiny of frogs down to a magnifying glass! I can't even walk across the market without them staring at me." He whined. "I'm pretty sure they're even recording my weight. If I gain even a single pound, the town's crier's gonna tell everyone!"
Just to prove his own point, Toadstool smacked his blubbery belly. It wobbled exactly 3 times; usually, it'd be 5. He was losing weight.
Toadie nodded, for he grasped the sentiment. "Ah, the follies of popularity. I understand completely, sir. Why, back when I was in college, the girls just couldn't get enough of me. I had to tear them off my soft, supple flesh just to reach the graduation ceremony."
Mayor Toadstool blinked. "You went to college?"
"Graduated with honours in the South-Amphibia College of Liberal Arts. I majored in Political Studies."
"… Huh." 'Huh' indeed. "Well anyhoo, I've got to do actual mayoral work if I want them off my back. So, try not to bother me for the day."
Toadie saluted. "Alright, sir!" He exclaimed before leaving the room, his cup and bag in hand.
Being the mayor's assistant and secretary, Toadie was not entitled to his own office. In fact, he wasn't even allowed to have his own office. A secretary's job was to act as the middle-frog between their boss and any incoming visitors. This included managing their boss's schedules, appointments and in rare cases, private and sensitive messages. Because of these duties, a secretary must always be accessible to the public and having an office would not be accessible.
Still, Toadie didn't care. He just wanted to support Mayor Toadstool to the best of his abilities.
On his way to his open desk, Toadie noticed something very odd. At the corner was a tall object, draped with a large cloth over it. He's worked here for years and for each day he was around, he never recalled seeing such a thing. "Huh, was this always here?"
Toadie looked around and noticed Nelly, the Town Hollow's record keeper, sweeping dirt into a dustpan. Nelly was an average pinkish female frog with complementary purple hair. She'd often wear a yellow puff-sleeved dress but her most iconic look happened to be her hair, tied into a pair of space buns. As the Town Hollow's record keeper, it was her job to keep track of all the interesting happenings that occurred in Wartwood. Unfortunately, it was a rather boring job for a cheerful girl such as herself, so she often had a lot of free time.
Which was why she was sweeping the Town Hollow, not that it mattered. She wasn't going to get paid for this.
"Nelly, do you know what this is?" Toadie asked.
Nelly turned to him and looked at the covered object. "Hmm… Nope!"
"Do you know where it came from?"
"Nope!"
"Aren't you supposed to be recording these things?"
Nelly went to reply but stopped. Slowly, she closed her mouth and began to ponder. Was she… was she supposed to do that? She turned to Toadie and smiled abashedly.
Toadie frowned. Oh, she was so getting a pay cut this month. Seeing no other option, Toadie took the initiative and pulled the cover off, revealing what was once hidden. He regretted it immediately.
Behind him, Nelly blushed. "Oh my…"
The object in question was a statue of their one and only beloved mayor, Frodrick Toadstool. The statue was made out of an unknown emerald wood, its surface oiled and treated to give a smooth and shiny finish. The details were remarkable and precise, capturing the mayor's face almost perfectly, albeit with a sharper and squarer chin. Whoever it was that made it must've been a master woodcarver.
However, it wasn't completely accurate. The woodcarver had made one glaring error; the mayor's round and friendly stomach was gone, replaced with a set of 8 tightly-packed abdominal muscles. If it weren't for the wooden surface, one could've mistaken it for rock because of how hard it was. You could grind meat on them, that's for sure.
Although Nelly seemed to appreciate it, Toadie was much less so. "Euuugh! Who would make such a degrading art? It's even missing the mayor's plump stomach! That's his most attractive part!"
To think that someone with such skill could be so crude. What a shame. Seeing that it was hidden in the corner, Toadie began to suspect that someone (possibly the mayor himself) must've covered it because of how insulting the statue was. If that was himself, even Toadie would've been insulted.
"Hmm, no wonder it was pushed away from view. Nasty."
It was then, he had an idea.
"With how busy he is, he probably didn't have the time to remove it. Since that's the case, I'll do it for him. Then the sir would be so grateful."
Hearing that, Nelly pouted. "Aww, do you have to? I quite like it."
"Of course, you would. You have no taste."
Not wanting to let the abomination stay any longer, Toadie searched for a hand trolley, then loaded the statue onto it. For some reason, the statue was a lot heavier that it looked. With that in mind, just to be safe, he placed the cloth back onto it and secured the whole thing with rope. He didn't want to accidentally burn the eyes of the common folk, after all.
"I'm heading out to the Hole. Take care of my shift."
Nelly saluted. "Will do, boss frog!"
As he stepped out of the City Hollow with the statue wrapped, he saw a gathering nearby. "Are those protestors?" He wondered to himself out loud. Looking closer, he noticed they were facing the other way. "Must be something else then."
Whatever it was, it didn't concern him or Mayor Toadstool.
In the city centre of Wartwood stood two girls: Chiddy and Middy. A pair of lovely newts, one blue and one pink, who hailed the established city of Newtopia, the capital and metropolitan heart of Amphibia. Both girls stood on soapboxes – as in, the wooden boxes were literally labelled 'soap' – and both wore unaesthetic beige robes that were clearly too big for them.
Now, you might be wondering; who are Chiddy and Middy? New characters in this already large cast of the Amazing Daily Sasha Show? Don't we already have too many? Well, here's a fun fact! They were already there; you just didn't remember.
Back during the Frog Of The Year party-palooza (and you know, before the 'incident'), two amphibians took a trip to Wartwood by bird to visit their uncle-in-law, the restaurant owner Stumpy. One fell into a vat of cold-served gumbo while the other crashed into a naked wooden statue of that year's Frog Of The Year. Other than that, that was the extent of their presence.
Well, they're back. A round of applause to Chiddy and Middy, twin newts who were just as forgettable as what you ate for breakfast.
On her soapbox, Middy – that's the pink one – adjusted her megaphone. It wasn't the battery-powered kind; these megaphones could twist to adjust its size, altering the outward end's radius to suit the user's needs. Once she was satisfied, she cleared her throat and took aim.
"My fellow Wartwoodians!" Middy shouted, her voice booming through the megaphone. "Have you ever had the feeling that your choices don't matter and that free will is a lie?"
"Not until today!" Someone from the crowd shouted.
"Well, NO MORE!" She ignored him. "My name is Middy and this is my sister Chiddy. We have come to your backwater town to give you the answer to all of life's problems!"
"Like how to manage our finances?" A shopkeeper asked.
"Yes!"
"And how to pull out weeds quickly?" A gardener added.
"That too!"
"And where babies come from?!" A nurse shrieked.
Middy paused.
"You don't know where babies come from? How?" She said out loud. Unintentionally, the nurse became sad. "N-never mind! That too, I guess."
Her sister, Chiddy – that's the blue one – took over. "We come from a collective of intellectuals known as the 'Priesthood in Establishing New Ideas and Sciences'. Our mission is to travel and spread knowledge and wisdom, once exclusive to Newtopia, to the rest of Amphibia. We aim for an egalitarian society, where science and technology is shared to all people, no matter the species or the class!"
A member of the crowd shook his fist in the air. "That sounds like hogwash!"
Nearby, a woman agreed. "Yeah, what if I don't want to share stuff with people? What then?"
Under her cloak, Chiddy's eyes widened. "What? No no no, you don't have to share anything! We're sharing knowledge to you."
"I don't want your opinions!"
"These aren't opinions! These are scientific facts!"
"Oh yeah? We don't want those too!"
"Oh, for the love of…" Chiddy sighed, stroking her face from forehead to chin. She glanced at Middy, who then quickly pulled a thick leather-bound book from her bag. "A-hem! Behold, the Book of Calamity! Our most sacred text! Here lies the answers to the greatest questions and secrets of the universe. Like, where does the Sun go at night and whether the planet is flat or spherical."
"Pfft, everyone knows the world is flat."
Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it.
"This book was written by the Hooded Lady from over 1,000 years ago. It knows things most couldn't even dream of, written in an ancient language that no longer exists. It contains drawings and scriptures beyond our understanding."
"However, luckily for you, our scholars have been working tirelessly to decipher it. From ancient Newtopian, the Priesthood in Establishing New Ideas and Sciences have translated most of it, and even simplified its concepts for the good of the people." While Middy put the tome back in the bag, Chiddy pulled our a series of colourful paperback books from her own, its covers containing colourful and cartoonish illustrations.
"These books, made for your feeble minds, will allow to reach enlightenment! Your crops will grow faster, your children more educated, and you lifespan lengthened!" Chiddy listed, awing the viewers. "You will achieve riches and power beyond your dreams!"
From her words, it sounded too good to be true which meant it had to be true! Everyone in the crowd immediately became excited, chatting enthusiastically amongst themselves.
"How much do we got to pay?"
Chiddy and Middy glanced knowingly at one another.
"Pay? No no, it's all FREE!" Middy announced. The crowd gasped in shock.
Chiddy then let out a single, truly genuine tear. "However, we are saddened to tell that we only have a limited stock. While we may give them out for free, research and printing still comes with a cost."
"Our poor starving printers!" Middy cried exaggeratedly, wailing like one would when they dipped a cookie into milk but then it crumbled apart, sinking into the bottom.
Chiddy gave her sister a handkerchief, patting the pink newt on the back caringly. "There, there, sister." She said, letting Middy blow on it. She then turned to the sympathetic watchers, pointing at their general direction. "But if you choose to donate to us via a monthly subscription, then we'll be able to feed those poor printers! In return, they'll print more of these wonderful books for you to read!"
Chiddy placed her hand on her chest, looking upwards with hopeful eyes. "Help us help you."
What a wonderful display of love and generosity, as shown by these two very kind, caring and devoted sisters who were definitely sincere and not at all dramatic. Some of the frogs in the crowd began shedding their own tears, their eyes bursting into waterfalls of pure emotion. Seeing these selfless newts and their sacrifice, anyone with a heart would want to help them moneywise. If you don't, then you are literally Satan.
"I want to donate!"
"Me too! Me too! I'll subscribe!"
"I was saving this to buy food for my children but this is clearly more important!"
The two newt girls simultaneously grabbed something from their respective bags. For Chiddy, it was a bunch of forms, and for Middy, they were pencils with no erasers in sight. Chiddy threw the forms into the air like confetti, letting it rain down with blessings of their leader. This was followed by Middy who showered the audience with medium-grade pencils.
You know how in parties, children would act like animals whenever the birthday kid smashes the pinata and candy starts spewing out? It was like that.
Unbeknownst to any of the involved parties, an uninvited person had been watching the scene. With his dark-grey jacket, cowboy hat and a leather belt adoring a unique golden 'B'-shaped buckle, he casually observed the crowd and its perpetrators. Had he been standing in the open, one would've seen him from a mile away due to his most particular feature – his white, bushy and lovingly-maintained moustache.
The cowboy man was the one and only Sheriff Buck Leatherleaf, head officer of the Wartwood Swamp Police Department (WSPD). Having been chewing some tobacco, he spat it into a nearby spittoon, producing a satisfying ring. CLANK!
"Seems like we've got ourselves a couple of vampire flies." He muttered ominously.
Casually, he strolled to the brains of the operation. Ironically, his calm demeanour and controlled struts actually made his stand out, something the nearby twins spotted.
"Oh newts! Chiddy, it's the feds!"
"Keep calm. I'll handle it."
Chiddy – a reminder that that's the blue one – bowed to the officer. "Greetings, enforcer of the law. How may this humble agent of learning serve you?"
The cowboy tipped his hat. "The name's Sheriff Buck." He greeted cordially, his eyes switching between Chiddy and Middy. "Now, I'm not usually the kind of frog to go against one's religious freedoms and all but… It doesn't take a genius to smell what you're doing."
Chiddy tilted her head innocently, her eyes dilating in a manner of a child acting cute at a candy store. "I haven't the faintest inkling of what you are implying. We are but scholars who wish to distribute our findings of the ancient texts to our brothers and sisters at no personal cost."
"Is that so…?"
"Indeed, it is very much as you are ambiguously expressing. Why, is it, to your deep and extensive understanding, a crime for us to perform our responsibilities as members of the Priesthood in this rather modest and kindly town of the hinterlands?"
Sheriff Buck raised a brow. "Usually, no. Folks are allowed to sign up to whatever flimflam they want."
Chiddy smiled.
"Except one: you don't have a permit to perform demonstrations – religious, political or otherwise – in the middle of town. And two: you did commit a crime." He grabbed one of the papers fluttering in the wind. "Littering."
Dear god.
"W-we were going to pick it up! We'd never let good paper go to waste!" Chiddy attempted to argue but it was quickly rebuffed.
"Maybe but I can't exactly trust your word on that, now can I?" The sheriff noted. From his belt, he drew a couple of black iron cuffs. "You're under arrest. And your sister too."
Chiddy blinked. Well, fubbernickel.
"I see…" She said, eerily composed.
She lifted her hands, accepting her fate…
Owo, what's this?! Middy suddenly appeared from behind and it looked like she was carrying with her the Book of Calamity, the Priesthood's most sacred text and something that should be handled carefully. What was she planning to do with it?
With 0% thoughts and 100% recklessness, she swung the holy book at the unsuspecting sheriff with a high-pitched shriek. It seemed like she wanted to provide free education. How thoughtful of her.
"AYAYAYAYAYAYAAAAAA!"
The sheriff felt his moustache tingle and moved left. Middy missed.
SMACK!
The book hit Chiddy in the face and a tooth came flying out. She was knocked out.
Stumpy's Diner. Remember this place? What a sight for sore eyes. Some people called it the Diner, others called it Stumpy's. Both were correct since the owner's name was Stumpy and it was Wartwood's only diner. Whichever it was, it's nice to know that it was still standing, sporting the retro 50's American diner look, and not swallowed by the rapaciousness of a cruel and uncaring universe.
In the kitchen, Stumpy, the owner and sole chef of this establishment, was stumping as he usually would. Using a bent spoon attachment, he took a sip of today's soup-of-the-day (spoilers: it was whatever leftovers he had left, turned to soup) and smacked his lips. The conclusion? It needed more salt.
After dumping a healthy load of sodium chloride and mixing until dissolved, he took another taste. This time, it was more than satisfactory. He attached his ladle, poured some in a bowl and placed it onto a tray, now ready to be served.
To think that the one person he was previously terrified of, ended up becoming his No.1 customer.
At his regular table, Albus Duckweed, a self-proclaimed 'supporter of all things delicious', took a sip. "Mmm, delightful! Another above-average dish, my good sir. And to think I used to see this place as nothing but a cheap manufacturer of slop and garbage."
This was his way of being nice.
Stumpy smiled, his crooked teeth not really doing him any favours. "No need for the praises, Duckweed. I'm just doing my job." Although saying that, he quite appreciated it nonetheless. He then scratched his head. "Well, technically my nieces' job. I sent them out to buy some groceries and they still haven't come back. I'm a bit worried for them."
"There's no need to worry! Sure, those Newtopian newts aren't exactly hardy like us Frog Valley newts but we're an adaptive bunch. They'll be fiiiiine." Albus remarked, proceeding to take another spoonful. "Hmm… Could use some more pepper flakes."
"Ever the critic, ey?"
"A food connoisseur's duties are everlasting!"
whaaaang…
For some reason, the eerie sounds of a dissonant chord played, its whistles reverberating in the background. The two locals felt a chill down their spines, their instincts flared before sharply silenced without warning. It was trying to warn them but alas, it was too late.
A foreboding presence has entered the diner and she was smiling in glee.
Albus screamed. "Dear newt, it's the creature!"
The creature, by the way, was Maddie Flour, daughter of Mr Flour, purveyor of oddities and bread delivery girl of the Flour & Daughters Bakery. Unlike the rest of Wartwood, Maddie had a keen interest in magic and witchcraft, teaching herself its arts through diligent study and powerful artefacts. She also baked a mean brioche.
She's… she's nice.
"Heeeey there, Albus." Maddie greeted, having materialised between the two without them knowing. "Fancy seeing you here."
Albus bit his fingers in dread. "Oh no, she's here for me!" He looked to his saviour, standing at the other side of his condemnation. "Stumpy, please… Help me…"
Stumpy sighed. He really didn't want to get involved. "Maddie…"
Turning around, Maddie crooked a more casual smirk, leaning onto the table's edge with one elbow supporting her. She then flicked her finger and thumb, and winked, a playful and friendly gesture. "Stumpy, my man! It's been a while since we last talked. How's the wife and kids?"
"I'm not married and you deliver bread to me every morning."
"And that was a few hours ago. I believe that counts as 'a while'. Also, my condolences."
Stumpy took a long and mildly annoyed breath. Were all children like this? Just as Maddie claimed, he never had any himself but it wasn't like he didn't have any experience. The only one he worked closely with seemed responsible. Though, she wasn't amphibian, so he wasn't sure if that counted…
"Maddie, what's the business?" Stumpy asked.
Maddie cackled like a maniac. It only served to terrorise the single newt at the table. "With you? Nothing. With him?" She declared, pointing at Albus with her thumb. "I just want to ask him for directions, that's all."
Stumpy's eyes widened. That seemed reasonable. Still, Albus was slowly shaking his head and silently mouthing 'Noooo', so he had no choice but to intervene.
"Will you at least promise me it won't be anything weird or magical?" Stumpy asked.
Maddie scoffed. "Pfft, it's just directions. What's so weird and magical about directions? Besides, I'm a professional and professionals have standards."
Welp, he couldn't argue with that. "Alright then. Just don't stay here too long, unless you're buying something. I'll be in the kitchen." He turned towards Albus, who was becoming paler by the second.
"… Good luck, Duckweed."
"STUMPY, NOOOO!"
But he was long gone. Albus swore he saw Stumpy speed-walking to the back too.
"Now that we're alone…" Maddie whispered as she turned her head, her neck creaking like rusted hinges. "I heard that you're familiar with a seller of rare ingredients, some very useful for witchcraft…"
"Please… Be gentle…"
In the late 16th century, European empires launched major expeditions in North America in an attempt to colonise the new world for its boon of natural resources, acres of land and the right to call 'dibs' over whatever rock and worm they managed to scrounge up. Although some effort was already made just over a century before that (mostly in South America with its jungles and mosquitoes), it was at this time were the efforts quadrupled and became a serious war for resources.
Despite so many different countries, kingdoms and empires fighting each other for dominion over the Americas, in the end, a winner was crowned by a completely new party known as the the Thirteen Colonies. These colonies would band together and rise up against their oppressors, sparking a revolutionary war which would give birth to the founding of a nation; a glorious nation known simply as the United States of America.
From that day on, depending on who you asked, it either got better or worse for everyone.
Brushing aside this history lesson, the USA ended up progressing very differently from its mothers and fathers in Europe, both culturally and economically. Take for example: the common bread. A simple food item, sometimes eaten by itself and other times, combined to make other dishes. Although called simple and common, the act of bread-making was actually a challenging process that took centuries, maybe even millennia, of human civilization to develop and master. It was no exaggeration to say that humanity has got bread-making down to a science.
No matter where you're from, someone nearby was baking bread. Yet, bread itself differed from culture to culture. In fact, forget the previous paragraph! The very statement of a 'common bread' was irrefutably false! There was no such thing because distinct cultural groups produced distinct types of bread.
Swiss rolls, ryes, whole grain and multi-grain. Baguettes, croissants, bagels and pretzels! Soda bread, cornbread, ciabattas and pumpernickel. Too many breads, yet never enough.
Now, you might be asking; what does this have anything to do with the story?
Nothing.
There was nothing in this story that has any relevance to bread.
So here's Leopold Loggle, axolotl and master woodsmith, eating a piece of common bread at his shop.
"Do-do do do-do doooo do!" Loggle sang his own jingle. He paid a lot to have it made and he was still wondering whether it was a scam or not because there was no reason for him to have one. But gosh darn'it! He wanted a jingle and oh boy, did he get one. "Boy, sure is peaceful today. My commissions are pretty much done and I've got nothing else to do. Lots of free time…"
He took another bite. The bread was soft and warm with a crunchy crust; just the way he liked it.
…
…
Loggle stood up from his chair. "Welp, no reason to just sit around and do nothing! Let's see if I can make something out of old scraps."
Leaving his counter unattended, Loggle walked to the work part of his workshop, located in the back. It was for employees only but being an omnipresent existence, you got exclusive access to this restricted area.
It was pretty much as you'd expect. There was a worktable to do the woodwork, a pile of randomly assorted woods of shapes and sizes, the finished projects placed aside for easy pickup and some cleaning equipment by the corner. The only thing that seemed out of place was the medium-sized aquarium at the back, in which housed a number of tropical fish.
There was also a light blue, slightly glowing sea anemone on a rock, headbanging like it was at a rock concert. Go, you funky-looking fish!
As he searched through the wood pile, Loggle thought of various wood-based items he could make and the perfect wood for them. He could make a fruit bowl out of some cottonwood, or maybe a honey dipper out of red maple. Black cypress was pretty popular nowadays because of how chic it looked but he always wanted to try making an ornament out of tupelo.
Maybe he could make a tiny Loggle…
Deep in his thoughts, he unintentionally found himself at the bottom of the pile – wood that have not seen the light of day for who knows how long. He should really clean up and reorganise from time to time. Luckily, he cycled through his stock so often that none ended up rotting. But down here, much to his surprise, he found himself a rather rare specimen.
"Well, I'll be…!" Loggle gasped. Grabbing the football-sized chunk, he quickly inspected it and to his merriment, it was as he expected. "Ouroboros wood! I didn't even know I had some left."
Native in the Hanzaki Forests of east Amphibia, the Ouroboros were slow-growing evergreen trees with broad red-to-orange leaves and glowing green vines. Its wood, once the bark was stripped, was a vibrant green, though when dried, may hold a more sickly hue. It takes about 100 years to mature and could live to at least 3,000 years, growing up to 80 metres in height. It was once heavily harvested but due to its slow growth, became an endangered and protected species.
"Can't believe that one project used all my stock. I can't complain with being paid but still, seemed like a waste. I wonder if it's still alive…" Loggle muttered. With the wood in hand, he moved to his workstation and placed it on a stone plate. There, he grabbed some water from nearby and poured it over, soaking the piece.
Then, he waited.
…
…
Within minutes, a small leaf appeared, popping from the side.
Loggle smiled. "Yep, still good! Now, what to make with this…?"
Other than being lightweight and absurdly strong, the Ouroboros tree had a rather unique property; it didn't matter what its previous state was for so long as it had access to water and nutrients, the wood can repair itself, making it technically immortal. Because of that, it was used primarily for tools of labour, sometimes even weapons and armour.
Considering there was already a case example…
"Eh, no need to reinvent the wheel!" Loggle shrugged whimsically. With a hammer and chisel at hand, he sat on his swivel chair and went to work.
We interrupt our scheduled program for a brief intermission of our favourite blonde teenager, still punished and still jailed. Her crime? Making her problems everyone's problem. You know, like a petty loser.
At the fwagon's interior, Sasha was sprawled onto the ground, utterly defeated. She shuffled and groaned, yet stayed put on the wooden floor, massaged by the rumbles of an unpaved road.
Next to her was Sprig who looked at her with mild concern.
"You, uh, you okay there, best friend?"
Sasha groaned pathetically. It was like watching a dying animal.
Sprig hummed. "You know, Hop Pop didn't ban you from playing board games. You could still do that."
"Nng, I don't wanna."
He raised a brow. "Why not?"
Sasha moved like slightly, just enough to look at him at the corner of her eye. "Because then, he wins." She replied, resuming to her initial position.
Wow.
Sprig wasn't sure if he should feel amused or disappointed. Maybe both, like some kind of twisted love child born out of wedlock. Still, both led to same conclusion and he sighed. "Suit yourself. At least it's not that bad."
Sasha turned to him with a glare. "I'm sorry but what punishment did he give to you that's worse than being jailed in a shared bedroom?"
"He made me wear these." Sprig said, lifting his hands. Instead of the sexy and luscious bare hands everyone was familiar with, it was now clothed by a pair of red-white-green mittens, knitted with a familiar decorative holiday cheer. Too familiar, in fact.
"I can't feel what I'm touching at all. It's been excruciating."
Sasha stared at his hands, the pair shamed from public view. She wanted to argue that her punishment was worse but that'd just turn this into a competition and honestly, she wasn't feeling it. Also, why did the mittens have a Christmas tree dyed onto it? Did they have Christmas in Amphibia? They shouldn't have but that was clearly a Christmas tree.
"So… Wanna play Toads & Towers?"
Sasha slumped back down. "Ngeh."
Tritonio Espada was the world's greatest thief, a lover of 100 women, unparalleled sword fighter and the most handsome newt that's ever lived. He could do anything, for nothing was impossible and every challenge was welcomed. There was no test he failed, no features he lacked and no skills below par.
So why the heck was he having so much trouble trying to find a midget?
"Felicia's daughter? Felicia's daughter!" He shouted. He didn't remember her name and it felt embarrassing to ask. Still, there was only one Felicia and one daughter, so it should've been obvious. But there was no response. "Where could that girl be?"
Despite having owned a day-care, Tritonio… didn't like children. He didn't hate them or anything and sometimes, even found them charming, but dealing with children was always annoyingly difficult and not the kind of challenge he looked forward to. Still, he understood that mature women had children, thus it wasn't his place to complain.
As he continued his search, his eyes glanced at a figure sneaking into the nearby woods. A familiar, stubby figure. Tritonio smirked and quickly paced himself and followed her. He passed a few bushes and overgrown roots protruding out of the ground, and even a rather eye-catching rock. Eventually, he arrived at a small clearing.
Then, he stepped on a branch.
SNAP! FYOOOM!
From every direction – up, down, left and right – various traps, tricks and snares were triggered, all aimed at the unfortunate newt. Some were harmless, designed to only restrain, while others were a bit on the deadlier side. For example, the spiked log swinging in his direction. It didn't take a genius to guess who put these up.
There were quite a lot of traps here. A worrying amount, to be honest.
Still, it didn't matter right now. What mattered was the log swing accelerating towards his handsome face. Not wanting to damage his visage, Tritonio smoothly strafed to the side, dodging the log. Then, hopped around the field, avoiding the obvious pitfalls littered around. While ducking away from a few more swinging logs, he spun slightly to avoid the rocks being catapulted towards him from the bushes, all while purposely triggering a number of wooden bear traps with his tail. With his impeccable dance moves, none hit him and eventually, he reached the end of the clearing.
"Well, that was exciting." Tritonio remarked. He couldn't even remember the last time he had to deal with this many traps. It was actually comical.
SSSHH! SSSHH!
"HIYAAAHH!" From the treetops descended an angel. An angel of vengeance. Burning, furious and bloodlusted vengeance.
Tritonio grabbed her halfway and held her up by her shirt's scruff.
"Felicia's daughter, there you are! I've been looking for you." Tritonio greeted. He then scratched his chin awkwardly. "How, uh, how are you?"
Ivy struggled as she hung, swinging haymakers left and right. "Nnng…! Let… go of me!"
She kept on swinging her fists at him but alas, her arms were sadly too short.
The newt hummed. What a feisty little girl, she was. Wanting to spare her of any more humiliation, he gently lowered her. Though, that didn't stop her from being frustrated.
"Ugh, how did you dodge all my traps?" Ivy questioned, stomping her foot in anger.
Tritonio threw his head back in laughter. "Hah! Did you really think anyone could trap the magnificent Tritonio Espada?" He turned around and wagged his finger mockingly. "Many have tried and many have failed."
WHACK!
Just as he walked away victorious, he somehow stepped in the tines of a common household rake, its handle launching 90 degrees into his face.
Tritonio groaned, rubbing his poor snout. "It… seems… that I missed one…"
"That's not one of mine."
"Oh…"
That didn't count.
As the pain slowly dissipated, Tritonio turned towards the young girl and breathed in as preparation. He then kneeled down to her height, levelling himself to hers. "Okay, we clearly started on the wrong foot somehow." He quietly muttered that last part. "But I want to try and better our relationship. So tell me, chica; what seems to be the problem?"
"I don't want you smoozing with my mom."
Tritonio winced. "But why not? Your mother is a very attractive and wonderful woman, fitting for a man such Tritonio Espada!"
Ivy growled and pointed at him accusingly. "That! That's exactly why I don't want you floozying with my mom! You're just some womanizing macaroni!"
"Hey, I take offence to that!" He said, his hand on his chest, deeply hurt. "I am anything but a macaroni. I like to think of myself as a tagliatelle or maybe even a Paglia e Fieno."
His reply, obviously, did not make it better if Ivy's angry expression was of any indication. For a guy who once owned a day-care, he was really bad with children. Awkwardly scratching the back of his head, Tritonio began to speak.
"Eileen—"
"It's Ivy."
"Ivy, you don't get it; I flirt with everyone. It is just my way of being friendly with the townsfolk. After all, half of a thief's job is good communication skills. I mean, how else are you going to steal from under their tongues?"
Ivy's eyes widened. "ARE YOU GOING TO ROB US?!"
Wow. Nice going there, handsome.
Realising his error, Tritonio quickly stepped back, shaking his head and hands. "What?! No-no-no, you are mistaken! I-I-I'm not going to rob you!"
Alas, it was too late. Running past him, Ivy grabbed the rake and went wild. She swung the gardening tool with a manic rage of a chimpanzee, its sharp tines ready to do extreme bodily harm on the fleshy slim newt. Tritonio yelped and quickly ducked, the teeth just inches away from plunging into his head. Not wanting to fight a child, he opted to retreat, dashing away from the crazed girl. Unfortunately for him, Ivy did not relent and instantly gave chase.
"Ivy, please stop! This was all but a misunderstanding!"
"I'LL NEVER LET YOU ROB THE SUNDEWS!"
For the next few minutes, Tritonio and Ivy engaged in a game of cat and mouse, following a scenario that could've easily been avoided if the former wasn't a braggart. And although Tritonio was a skilled parkour expert due to his years of escaping experience, Ivy's own natural athleticism was nothing to scoff at. She knew the town like the back of her hand and was able to keep up with the newt, all while swinging the garden rake.
As their chase continued across town, Tritonio found himself fascinated by Ivy's actions. Despite being only 9 or so years old, Ivy seemed to have a knack in combat and ambush tactics. Her trap-making skills were almost equal to seasoned trappers, and she swung that rake like a pro. At least, for her age. Honestly, he didn't expect to meet someone like her in a boonies town like Wartwood. Had she been a newt in the city, she could probably even be a Royal Guard cadet.
As he observed some more, he began to smile and his dodges became more relaxed, though no less effective. Ivy didn't notice, still driven by her misplaced objective. At one point, she swung a bit too far, causing her to spin from the momentum. Unbalanced, Ivy tripped.
"You swung too hard, leaving yourself wide open. Learn to control your momentum, otherwise you'll pull a muscle and injure yourself." Tritonio exclaimed as he stood nearby.
Ivy raised a brow, confused. Yet, she did not ignore his words. The rake in hand, she resumed her assault, though keeping in mind of her strength. As a result, the rake flowed smoothly through the air. Well, as smooth as rake could.
Still, it was difficult. Despite controlling her swings better, she still felt like she could fall any minute. It might just be a common gardening tool but a rake still had weight and it was far too long for a frog her size – something Tritonio noticed as he sidestepped away from its metal tips.
"The rake: it's too big for you." He remarked. "You'll need to balance yourself better."
Ivy stopped and looked at her rake. "And how am I supposed to do that? Break it in half?"
He chuckled. "Ideally, no. There are ways to wield a weapon too big for someone."
Unlike a few minutes ago, Tritonio walked up to the girl casually and kneeled behind her. There, he placed his hands on the rake and pushed them along her grip, centring it. "Hold it in thirds – one palm facing downwards and the other up."
"Like this?" Ivy asked, adjusting her hands.
"Yes, that's right! See how it feels better?" He said, letting go of the rake. "Bend your knees a bit as well and spread it, one leg forward. Lowering your centre of gravity ensures you have better stability."
Ivy bent her knees and spread her feet apart with one in front of the other. It felt weird at first but she did seem stronger and harder to topple. Though, the weird and awkward sensation did not subside, lingering in her arms and thighs. It was then Tritonio started to massage a shoulders lightly.
"Relax. If you're too stiff, then you'll fall easier."
Ivy scoffed. "Easy for you to say! This feels weird."
He stopped massaging and stood back up. "You'll get used to it! That's part of the learning process!"
Ivy grumbled but kept her pose. She moved her hands and legs, shifting them around back and forth and slowly, began to acclimate. As Tritonio stepped backwards, Ivy continued to adjust, glancing over her own posture every so often. She did a few test swings, getting a feel over it and repeated the process. Meanwhile, instead of running away when he had the chance, Tritonio stayed and watched, crossing his arms with a proud smirk.
Huh, what was this emotion he's experiencing?
"Make way, please!"
Suddenly from behind him, a voice called. Too absorbed with Ivy's swings, he failed to react fast enough. Turning around to face the voice, he instead saw a looming shadow towering over him. Alarms rang and his instincts took over and before he knew it, he pulled out his blade and swiped at the form in front of him, much to his horror mere moments later.
Oh newt, did he just kill a townsfolk?
Lucky for him, he did not. In fact, he didn't hit anyone. The sword slashed across the figure, cutting through cloth and rope, and freeing them. Face to face, he saw the most majestic object one could imagine. Chiselled chin, luscious muscles, rock-hard abs, and an appropriately placed leaf, all on a canvas of glistering wood.
It was utterly and unimaginably divine.
"Dios mío…"
So engrossed by the grandeur, it didn't register to him that the object was steadily leaning towards him. Eventually, it reached its maximum leaning angle and before he knew it, he had made unrequited love with an inanimate piece of wood. Truly a lover.
CREEEEEEK… SPLAT!
It was a lot heavier than it looked.
At the Town Hollow, Mayor Toadstool was – gasp! – busy doing mayor things. To think that Wartwood would see the day where a lazy toad with the first name 'Frodrick' and last name 'Toadstool' actually do work? Calamity must be upon them.
Now, that seemed harsh. Sure, he was a lazy piece of toadstool but that didn't mean he didn't do any work. Otherwise, he would've been run out of town by now. It's just he was doing more than what he usually did which also happened to be what you'd expect mayors to do on average. It was both something to praise but also to be disappointed in.
By lunchtime, the stacks of paper that surrounded his table had reduced considerably. Though, it's still a lot but it was less so there's progress! Mayor Toadstool took his glasses off and stretched his arms and fingers. "Sheesh, all this paperwork sure has put me in a peckish mood. Maybe I should get something to eat. I wonder what Stumpy's got for specials today…"
He stretched his back, producing a loud crack. "Oof! That felt good!" He exclaimed jovially. "Toadie, I need you to go out and get ourselves a nice lunch. I heard that Stumpy now has something called a 'Croak Monsieur'. Never heard of it before but I'm kinda interested."
…
…
No reply.
Toadstool raised a brow. "Toadie?"
This was odd. He never had to call him twice before. Leaving his chair, he walked to the door and poked his head into the hallway. "Toadie?"
Again, no reply.
From this point on, Mayor Toadstool began searching for his faithful assistant. He went from room to room, hallway to hallway. "Toooaaadie?" He'd call out and without fail, there was no response. After minutes of searching, he reached the front desk – Toadie's desk. Truthfully, he probably should've went here from the start.
Much to his confusion, the frog was not here either. "Now where could that boy be?" Mayor Toadstool asked out loud, scratching his bald head.
"Oh, he's at the Hole."
"WHOA, NELLY!" The toad shrieked. Behind Toadie's desk was not Toadie; it was Nelly. But this wasn't Nelly's desk, so why was she hear?
"Nelly? What are you doing here?" Toadstool asked.
She waved her hand playfully. "Ohoho, I'm just covering Toadie's shift for a bit. He went out to the Hole." From underneath the desk, she revealed a wrapped sandwich. "Want a Croak Monsieur?"
Toadstool's eyes shined. "Oh, don't mind if I do!" He graciously replied, taking the sandwich with his grubby fingers and immediately devouring it. "Hmm! This is pretty good!"
"I know, right? Stumpy wouldn't share the recipe with me. Told me 'a friend trusted him with it'. Like, booooo!" Nelly complained.
Toadstool wasn't paying attention. He was too busy voraciously ripping the meal apart. Within seconds, the sandwich was no more, leaving behind only the paper wrapping it. He sighed, satisfied and licking his fingers good.
"Ah… Now, where was it that Toadie went, you say?"
"The Hole." Nelly repeated. "We found this statue of you made of wood and Toadie was so offended, he went out to throw it away. Personally, I would've kept it. It seemed like such a waste."
Toadstool blinked.
"Did you just say 'statue'?"
"Uh-huh."
"Wooden, and it looked like me?"
Nelly nodded.
…
…
Mayor Frodrick Toadstool felt his heart stop.
"DEAR TOAD, NOT THE STATUE!"
His heart resumed and beat frantically, followed by his pores sweating profusely and the blood in his skin draining till he became pale. Without wait nor pause, Mayor Toadstool rushed to the front door, panic carved in his face. Although he was always an emotional toad, this expression of pure terror was beyond even his worst days. Truly, this was a high-level and extreme emergency.
So why was he back at the desk?
"Say, you don't happen to have more of Toadie's coffee, do you?" He asked while jogging in place, his legs moving up and down. Wordlessly, Nelly pulled a stemming pot and poured it into a wooden thermos before giving it to her boss. Mayor Toadstool nodded. "Thank you, Nelly."
He then proceeded to resume his panicked state. "TOADIE!"
Now armed with coffee, Toadstool hurried out of the Town Hollow, his blood pressure rising by the second. He shouted his assistant's name as he ran, much to the bewilderment of nearby onlookers. However, in his hysterical pursue, he ran into a familiar face. And by that, it meant he almost crashed into a familiar face.
Sheriff Leatherleaf stopped the mayor with a raise of his palm. "Afternoon, mayor. What seems to be the problem?" He asked, tipping his hat.
Toadstool, who was breathing raggedly, wheezed. "Heeeee-hoooo…! Hah, good afternoon, Sheriff! Sorry but I can't chat! I'm in a bit of a hurry!" He blurted in a hurry but upon glancing over the sheriff's shoulder, he stopped. "Who, err… who'd you got there?"
Behind the sheriff were two newts – one pink and one blue – in thick beige robes, their wrists secured by stocks and tied to a thick leash held by the lawman. The sheriff wiggled his moustache. "Just a couple of delinquents who don't know when to quit."
"PARADING US IN THE STREETS THROUGH TOWN IS A BARBARIC PRACTICE!"
"Someone threw a zucchini at me…"
He sighed. "Sorry about that. They ain't locals."
Mayor Toadstool puffed his chest proudly. "No worries. Why, it makes me feel glad to see our local law enforcement doing a fine and dandy job." He exclaimed, commending the sheriff in a way only a politician would say. "But, uh, I really have got to go. Be seeing ya, Sheriff!"
And so, the mayor departed to the Hole, leaving the sheriff with nothing but a raised bushy brow above his rarely-seen eyelids.
Stumpy's day has been average. Well, not counting whatever it was that happened to Albus and Maddie. So other than that, his day was average. Though, there was one thing that did bother him and that was his helpers from Newtopia, currently missing. He sent them to buy supplies a while ago as a way to help them adapt to Wartwood but it shouldn't take this long to buy a few items from the markets.
It was to his surprise when the leading law enforcement figure of Wartwood appeared at his humble and recently refurbished restaurant. Other local enforcers dined here often, so he wasn't completely inexperienced but never the big boss himself. He heard that the sheriff's wife cooked his meals and no chef can compete with a married woman's cooking. This was why it was so surprising.
As the door swung open and the bushy-moustached sheriff walked in, Stumpy nodded from behind the counter, waving his spatula hand. "Sheriff! Pleasure to be seeing you here. You want something to eat?" He asked. He needed to be sure.
Sheriff Buck Leatherleaf raised his hand, halting him. "Hold that thought; I've got a couple of girls here for you."
Tugging a rope, the two newt girls walked in apprehensively. Both girls attempted to hide their faces behind the hoods of their robes but it was ineffective. After all, how many other newts do you know in this countryside town?
Stumpy gasped. "Chiddy! Middy! There you are! I sent you out for groceries hours ago." He said, glad to see them safe. However, that gladness was quickly replaced with doubt. "Why are you in cuffs?"
The sheriff walked up to them and began unlocking the wooden cuffs. "They were caught promoting fraudulent activity in the town centre. Apparently, they're part of some kind of cult in Newtopia and are trying to expand in Wartwood."
Stumpy gasped. "Girls!"
CLINK!
Chiddy, who was missing a tooth, gawked at Leatherleaf. "Wha—you told us we were arrested for littering!"
CLINK!
"That's mostly for legality reasons. I couldn't arrest you otherwise." He admitted. No matter the universe, a lawman's a lawman. "Now, you two better stay out of trouble. No more of these 'subscriptions', ya hear?"
The girls grumbled under their breath. Good enough for him. With a tip of his cowboy hat, he bid the restaurant owner adieu and left the premises. Now by themselves, Stumpy turned towards his nieces and with crossed armed, he sighed in disappointment. "Is this why Sherry sent you two here? Because of 'cult-ish' behaviour?"
Middy – that's the pink one – scoffed. "Psh, that's what mom thinks. We came here on our own accord."
"We were handed a mission by Elder Chameleo to spread the good word."
"What word?" Stumpy asked.
"Bird's the word."
SLAP! The twins high-fived.
Stumpy sighed. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. "Well, whatever it is, can you not? If you're going to stay in Wartwood for the time being, at the very least, you could do some work."
"Fine…" "Kay…"
Stumpy scratched his head. He really didn't know how to handle children. But then, as a blessing from the frog gods, he got an idea. "What if we go out to town for the day? Maybe have some lunch?"
Middy raised a brow. "Aren't you, like, a restaurant owner? Why buy lunch when you can make it?"
Placing his hands – well, what's left of them – on his hips, Stumpy scoffed. "Just because I cook for a living, doesn't mean I want to cook all the time. Sometimes, I want to eat other people's food too." He stated, like it was so obvious. "Felicia's should be open right now. Let's go grab ourselves some tea and scones. She's got quite the selection."
The two girls looked at each other. They didn't say a word, yet their expressions twisted and contorted as if they were sharing a telepathic conversation. Then again, being twins and all, that might just be true, as theorised by the father of modern psychology, Sigmund Frog.
It was later proven false, just like many other of his theories, through an intense gladiatorial death battle against other psychologists.
"We do like scones…" Chiddy chimed.
"Newtopia had the best scones…" Middy added.
Stumpy smiled. So it was agreed then. Off to Felicia's!
So far, the dilly-dallies of today had taken place primarily in the built-up town area of Wartwood. Felicia's Tea Shoppe and the Town Hollow were located in the bustling city centre and while Stumpy's Diner and Loggle's workshop were somewhere in the outer edges, it was still within the municipal borders.
But Wartwood was more than just the urban neighbourhood. The Plantar family farm was located quite a distance from the Wartwood centre and yet, it was still considered part of the territory, public services and taxes a-hoy! Wartwood as a whole was far larger than the metropolitan area, covering many square miles of Frog Valley. This included parts that weren't yet developed, such as the surrounding forests and swamps.
With that in mind, Maddie Flour and Albus Duckweed were trekking through the woods. Still in Wartwood, mind you. Just in the woods.
Maddie jumped over an overgrown root. She was carrying with her a large yet mostly empty bag. "You know, you don't need to follow me. The location was more than enough."
Struggling to follow her was Albus who carried a smaller sling bag. He seemed way out of his element, considering how uncomfortable he looked. "And let a little girl get lost in the deep, dark woods, only to be eaten by who knows what? I may be a critic but I'm not that heartless!"
Maddie rolled her eyes. "Pretty sure you're more likely to be eaten than I am."
She was right but it was made worse by Albus sourly agreeing.
As they continued navigating through these so-called 'deep and dark woods', swapping quips here and there, they eventually came across a campsite set up just a bit offpath from the nearby main road. There, a giant green beetle could be seen, ravenously munching on a pile of dirt-like substance, and a wheeled container behind it. Sitting by a campfire was a muscular dull-green frog, stirring a pot of stew. He had various tattoos drawn on his skin, covered by his hunting outfit, as well as bones in his shaggy, green beard.
SHHHH—SHHHH!
Hearing the bushes rustle, the green frog was alerted and immediately stood up. "What the—who's there?!" He shouted, pulling out a woodcutter's axe. "I'll kill ya!"
Alarmed, Albus quickly revealed himself. "Soggy, Soggy! It's me, Albus! Albus Duckweed!"
The frog blinked for a quiet moment, then his eyes widened in surprise. "Oh, you're the newt who keeps buying maple syrup from me!" He remarked, putting his axe away. "Well, sorry to tell you this, mate, but I'm all out. I sold me last stock just a few days ago."
Albus chuckled awkwardly and loosened his collar. "No, no, not about that. Thankfully, I still have enough to last through the month." He said, instantly relaxed. "No, I'm just here to escort a fair lady who wishes to meet you."
Maddie rolled her eyes again. Pretty sure he called her 'the creature' just a few hours ago.
As she moved past the newt, Soggy placed his hands on his hips and bared an ugly smile. It was his way of looking warm and sociable. "Good afternoon, girlie! What can I, Soggy Joe, do for ya?"
"I heard you've got hold on some interesting merchandise." Maddie asked.
"Yep, that's right!" He nodded in response. "I'm a trucker by trade – constantly travelling here and there, delivering items and whatnot – but I've got a side-gig as a hunter and smuggler of rare goods. I can get you all sorts of valuable imports from all over the place.."
He then leaned in to her and whispered. "By the way, I even accept commissions for items that are a bit… less legal."
Maddie smiled; that was exactly what she wanted.
"I want a panacean coral, specifically from the Skypass Lake Plateau."
Suddenly, the mood of the campsite fell rock bottom and Soggy Joe's jovial act fizzled like smoke.
Soggy Joe pulled back. "Do you know what you're asking here, little lady?" Maddie nodded. From her bag, she retrieved a large book and flipped it somewhere in the middle.
"Panacean corals, also known as 'La Lumière Stellaire'. The panacean coral can live in any body of clean water so long as it's below freezing-point temperatures, thus making them available only in certain hard-to-reach regions. Almost every part of it is used as an ingredient for medicine, and their natural glow is known to cure diseases and heal injuries. Some say that the particular ones from Skypass can even bring back the dead."
Soggy Joe hummed. So she did know. "Well, that last part is a myth. Plus, they're not actually coral; they're sea anemones." He noted with a raised all-knowing finger. "But then, you must know that all panacean corals from the Skypass Lake Plateau are exclusive property of the Newtopian Royal Court. Harvest, transportation and handling of a prized resource like that is a government-only right."
"If a little frog like yourself is found playing with one, you'd be charged with treason against the Newtopian crown." He stated, not a hint of merry in his tone. "Do you still want one?"
For most people, that'd be enough to dissuade them. Committing treason? What a rather high crime for what accounted to simple theft. Nobody in their right mind would throw away their life for a weird-looking fish. They looked more like plants than fish.
Maddie, however, was not like most people. She was even getting annoyed.
"I am a practitioner of dangerous magical arts. I am also 11 years old. When have I ever cared about the government?"
Soggy Joe blinked and before long, he threw his head back and laughed.
"HAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAH!" He laughed with no restraint, the howling of joy coming from deep in his massive gut. It was so powerful, it shook the whole forest and even startled Albus, who had been watching the whole exchange. The hunter's cackle lasted a full minute in a single breath – quite an impressive display – and the only one unbothered by it was Maddie, who stood passively.
Eventually though, the laughter died down and Soggy Joe, having expressed the most mirth in years, wiped a tear from his eyes. "Hehehe… Alright, you got me. I like that spunk of yours."
Soggy left the two for a bit and grabbed a box from his storage. Placing it in front of Maddie, he cracked it open and put to view two ceramic mason jars. "I got them in powdered form and in its raw unprocessed form. If you want a fresh one, then you're out of luck. No way I'm dealing with that."
He also showed her two empty bags. "Hemp or jute?"
it was neither.
Meanwhile, back at Loggle's woodworking workshop, the axolotl finally finished his new project.
Leopold Loggle examined the piece, huffing and blowing away any bits of sawdust still stuck in the crevices. With his keen eye, he smoothed out any bumps or sinks on the surface using sandpaper, then wiped it clean with a damp cloth. The wood seemed to appreciate that, gradually transforming from its puke-green hue to a more shiny and glamorous emerald.
What has he made that took him an entire afternoon? A modest bow.
Roughly 6ft long with an average of 110lbs of draw force, the English longbow is one of the most iconic bows in history due to its incredible strength and long draw length. It was traditionally made of yew, a common species of evergreen tree found native in many parts of Europe, including the aptly named English Isles. It was an important weapon in history and aided in challenging the French during the Hundred Years' War.
It was also just an elongated 'D'. The design was very human.
Now normally, you can't make a longbow using what was essentially a chunk of wood the size of your head; it's too short. But this was where the Ouroboros wood came in! Due to its regenerative properties, a skilled woodsmith could cut them into sections, line them up and weld the pieces together with nothing but water, and it'll be just as good. This made Ouroboros one of the most flexible types of wood available. Pretty handy, eh?
Loggle puffed his chest with pride. "Welp, that's about done. And even for a little fun side-project, it's got the Loggle-guaranteed seal of approval."
He then pumped his fist. "Go, Loggle!"
Though, he noticed that he got the dimensions a bit off by a few inches but eh, it was just a side project anyway.
Now, before he could setup a new string for the bow, he first needed to finish it – that meant putting a mineral/plant oil onto the surface of the wood to preserve its quality. Normally, you could use any kind of oil such as linseed or teak, but a glamorous material such as this required an equally glamorous finishing.
Unfortunately, he ran out of his glamorous finishing oil. He used it all to cover a toad's worth of wood.
In the east, woodsmiths that specialise on working with Ouroboros wood used an extract from a special moss to help 'feed' the wood through a symbiotic relationship, maintaining its strength. Previously, he used a similar product of it but alas, that's just not possible currently. Just getting his hands on the wood alone was already hard enough. Plus, that stuff was expensive, like the olive oil in his kitchen.
But wait… Olive oil was a pretty glamorous oil. What if he were to add something special into his olive oil in order to mimic the properties of the special moss? Delightfully devilish, Leopold Loggle.
But what? What could he use?!
The woodsmith hummed, spinning in circles on top of his chair. While doing so, he glanced at his nearby aquarium where inside, a sea anemone was rocking out. The glass was also dirtied with algae; he should really clean it.
That's when it hit him.
SNAP! "Bingo!" He cheered, swivelling towards the glass box.
Looking through the glass, he grabbed his comically large syringe – don't ask about his syringe – and slowly lowered it into the tank. Just as the syringe closed in onto the dancing creature, he then pricked the anemone with the attached needle. In response, the sea anemone stopped moving.
Can it feel pain? Can it feel fear? He didn't know; Leopold Loggle was not a marine biologist.
"There we go…" Loggle mumbled, pulling the plunger. The barrel slowly filled itself with a bioluminescent blue liquid, only slightly mixed with aquarium water. Once it reached half the volume, he tugged the syringe free, removing the needle from the its host.
There was a few seconds pause but inevitably, the sea anemone started dancing again.
Loggle swivelled back to his worktable. Quickly, he grabbed some of his olive oil and poured it into a cup. In the same cup, he expelled the syringe's gooey blue contents into and began mixing. As he mixed, the liquid began to change, glowing a rather ominous blue. Once fully incorporated, he used it as any other oil and polished the wooden bow till it shined.
"And… done!" He said, placing the fully-finished longbow on his table. The weapon looked clean and shiny and the olive oil's green also made the wood's natural green even greener. Amazing! This was definitely how colours worked.
"Now to wait until the finish dries and put on a couple or so more coats." He said, cheerily.
…
…
You know, he could read a book or something while he waited.
…
…
Just saying.
…
…
Apologies but we have brought to you another intermission, starring Amphibia's one and only pitiable teenage human girl, Sasha Waybright. She's still stuck in the fwagon. Please give her a round of applause, everybody. We can't hear you but we assume that's exactly what you did.
In the moving fully-furnished family wagon, Sasha groaned. She was still on the floor, by the way, but at least she moved to a different section of the floor. This one had a carpet and a pillow on it, for self-care was important.
"Hnng…!" She groaned again. Unlike before, her hands were now occupied by a small rectangular box. It had a black screen in the front, as well as a cat-themed cover surrounding the rest. Staring in the screen, it showed nothing but her reflection, one that wavered more by the second.
The box had a small camber on its side – a button, really. All she needed to do was push the button.
Just push… the button.
…
…
"What'chu doing there, buddy? Trying to set your thingamajig on fire with your mind?" A person next to her asked. This was Polly Plantar, the youngest of the Plantars. So young, in fact, that she hasn't gotten her legs yet. That's basically frog puberty.
Sasha sighed, putting the box on her chest. "You wouldn't understand, Polly."
"Don't be a dweeb, Sash, and just say the thing."
Sasha grumbled annoyedly. "Well, seeing that I'm GROUNDED—" She shouted, promptly sitting upright and yelling at the hatch to the driver's seat. "—and have nothing better to do, I thought I could, like, turn on my phone and check it out. There's all sorts of stuff in here like pictures and mobile games."
"But?"
"But I don't want to. Or maybe I do?" Sasha moaned defeatedly. "I don't know!"
Like a bratty pint she was, she laid back onto the floor and whined. Why was this so convoluted? It wasn't this bad back on Earth. Sure, she was younger, more immature and maybe not the kindest person back then but she's changed! She's good now—no, awesome even! This was Sasha Waybright 2.0, Family Farming Pack DLC included!
Relationships were so complicated.
Despite being over a third of her age, Polly was quick on the uptake. "Dang, girl, you are down bad for your girlfriend, huh—"
Sasha's reaction was faster than light, shooting up and glaring at the pollywog with a embarrassed aura as eldritch as the first angels to descend from heaven unto mankind. If you looked closely, you can see the veins on her temple throbbing from the immediate surge of friendship-ridden stress, as well as a light blush drawn from cheek to cheek.
"Anne is not my girlfriend!"
Polly shrugged. "I didn't say it was Anne."
"Anne is not my girlfriend!"
"Look, I am judging. No wait, I'm very judging because she's a jerkwad and I really don't like her—"
"ANNE IS NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!"
"ALRIGHT, I GET IT!" Polly yelled back. She crossed her flippers and harrumphed. "Excuse me for trying to be accurate. I hope your brick never turns on now."
Sasha recoiled and hugged her phone close to her chest, shielding it from poisonous tongues. "Hey, don't say that! What if it actually does break?!" She then closed her eyes and sighed. "I'm sorry for yelling, okay? Just don't jinx it!"
Polly huffed and rolled her eyes. She was still mildly annoyed but apology accepted nonetheless. The pollywog hopped away and exited the carriage, though not before facing Sasha briefly. "Well, once you're done with your moping session and finally use your magic brick, call me. I want to see what's so big of a deal about it."
Of course Polly wouldn't understand. She was still too young (factual) and too innocent (questionable). She still has yet to experience the heart-wrenching pain of betrayal. And hopefully, she never will because if someone did that to her, then the population count of Amphibia would go down by 1 within 24 hours.
Though, her inquiry had nothing to do with Sasha's personal struggles. She was curious about the phone, not her life story.
Maybe she should just ignore the pictures and focus on the games. Did her games require an Internet connection?
And once again, we're back at Wartwood. Not the town of Wartwood, however, but the general area of Wartwood. But that's a pretty big area, so let's zoom in to one particular area.
Zoom in.
Zoom in.
Zoom in.
Okay, that's enough zooming in. Somewhere in the surrounding woods of the Wartwood Swamp, exist the Hole. Capitalised, by the way.
Over 300 meters in width and an unknown depth, this was no ordinary hole. This was the Hole – an extremely large and deep sinkhole that appeared in Frog Valley around 400 years ago. Nobody knew why it appeared and how, but all that mattered was that it happened to be one of the most important locales in the region. Why, you ask? We'll get to that in a minute.
Wheezing and out of breath, Mayor Toadstool ran as fast as he could. Outside of the mayoral elections, this was the most exercise he's ever done. Cardio was never his forte. He typically leaned more on the strongman physique, as was toad culture. But this time, his life depended on it.
As he pushed through and the Hole came the view, he saw a singular figure standing by the edge, with him a trolley that carried a wooden statue. Toadstool's eyes widened; this was the finishing line. Between the ragged gasps and painful wheezes, Toadstool called out with all his might. "TOADIE! STOOOOOOP!"
Alas, it was too late. The call fell to deaf ears; With one last heave, Toadie, the mayor secretary, pushed the wooden statue off and into the Hole, its offending figure disappearing into the murky depths. The speed of sound was inconveniently slower than this frog's dedication.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" From over the ledge, Toadstool cried. The statue has been disposed at the worst possible place.
That's right; the bottomless Hole was a dump site.
"Sir?!" Toadie jumped. "What are you doing here?"
The mayor did not wait for even a moment, grabbing Toadie by his shoulders. "Toadie, do you have any idea what you just did?!"
"Well, I threw away that ugly statue." He replied somewhat proudly, though then raising a brow. "Is something the matter, sir?"
"Toadie, I need you to listen to me carefully:" He hissed. "You need. To get. That statue. Back."
"Umm… why?"
Toadstool's grip tightened. "The. Public. Funds. Are. In it."
…
…
…
Toadie's eyes widened. "THE WHAT?!"
"I kept the public funds we use for the town's projects inside the statue! There's a compartment in the abdominal section that I had Loggle build!"
That explained the weight. "But why, sir?! Don't we have a safe?"
"If any thieves break into office, that's the first place they'd check! It's a diversion!" Toadstool explained.
Toadie started thinking. "Oh. Oh… Yeah, I can see this being my fault." He admitted calmly.
Then again, it's not like the plan of hoarding money in a statue was any better. Like, who would do such a thing?
Still, Toadie was ever the optimist. "No worries, sir. We can always reclaim it using the elevator system."
On cue, Toadie pointed to the elevator system. Though, to be honest, calling it an elevator seemed a bit generous. It was essentially a large pulley with a bell, attached with a crank coiled with thick lengths of rope. Its metal parts were rusted, its wooden parts were rotted, and to top it off, there was a nondescript skeleton next to it wearing a miner's helmet.
Toadstool gagged. "Eeeagh, is that the hole manager? Huh, didn't even know we had one."
Well, whoever this guy was, he was fired. Death was no excuse to slacking off.
Toadie kicked the skeleton away without remorse, and grabbed the rope and helmet. Fastening both onto him, he then checked the pulley and once confirmed that everything was attached properly, Toadie began his descent. Slowly and steadily, Toadstool turned the crank and gradually lowered his assistant into the Hole.
It was a long descent. Very, very long.
For generations, citizen of Wartwood's municipality have used the Hole as a dumpsite, throwing away mountains of trash and old junk to places where no light could reach. Despite the centuries of trash being disposed into the depths, the bottom was still impossible to view from the surface. That's how deep it was.
You could argue that throwing away trash into a really deep hole seemed like a very irresponsible thing to do but surprisingly enough, not a lot ever gets dumped here. Old tools got passed down and fixed, kitchen refuse turned into compost or animal feed, wooden scraps burned for heat, so on and so forth. The only garbage thrown into the Hole were those they themselves couldn't reuse or recycle. That's just how it was in the countryside.
(Hopefully, they never discover plastic.)
Eventually, the brave little frog reached the very bottom. Just before touching the ground, he turned on the helmet's light and looked around; since it was recent, the statue shouldn't have rolled far.
And his intuition was right. Just a few meters down the hill of junk, he could see the statue on its side. Despite falling from incredible heights, the statue was virtually undamaged. That's some tough wood.
"There you are, you silly rascal!" Toadie said cheekily. "You sure put me in a lot of trouble, mister. Though technically, I was the one that put you here so I say we're even."
Untying himself, he wrapped the statue with the same rope, finishing with a hard knot. Once secured, he gave the rope several tugs, sending a signal to the crank above.
Speaking of above, at the top and outside of the Hole, Toadstool was enjoying his coffee. It was a good thing he had that thermos; this particular blend was Toadie-approved for political deliciousness. The mayor of Wartwood didn't hire him for his coffee-making skills but he had to admit, it was a nice bonus.
SLUUUURP… Toadstool took a loud sip. "Mmm, decadent…"
KRING, KRING! KRING, KRING!
"Ugh, what is that annoying ringing? Toadie? Toadie, get over here and deal with that!"
…
"Oh wait, you're in the Hole." He chuckled. Toadie was in the Hole. That was silly of him. What a silly frog he was.
Back in the Hole, Toadie sat on the statue. "Huh, it sure is taking a while. I remember sir carrying a thermos, so maybe he's having a coffee break?" Toadie wondered out loud. "Gasp! Was that my coffee? Was my freshly-ground artisanal brew so delicious that Mayor Toadstool got distracted? Darn it, Toadie! Why must you go above and beyond in providing excellent service?!"
Then, in the corner of his eye, a creature skittered in the dark. Toadie moved quickly, shining his helmet light at the being. Unsurprisingly, it was just an ordinary, common dumpsite cockroach. It was brown, about the size of a child, and had no distinguishable traits whatsoever.
Toadie sighed. "Oh, it's just you. You scared me for a bit, hehe." He chuckled but then, had a thought. "Maybe I should bring you up for a celebratory roast."
He leaned forward. "What do you say, little guy? Wanna be our lunch?"
The cockroach did not like that, evident by more cockroaches appearing.
"… Oh dear, that's not good."
KRING-KRING-KRING-KRING-KRING-KRING!
In a different, yet not that far away, Maddie and Albus were trekking back towards town. Maddie's once-empty bag now was fuller, packed with the merchandise she sought out for. It was honestly a miracle she was even able to get it, considering the implications. It costed her an entire year's worth of allowance but it was worth it.
"You know, that went smoother than expected." Albus said, following her from behind.
"What did you think was going to happen?" Maddie asked, leading him.
"I thought you'd turn him into a worm or something."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm a genuine practitioner of the magical arts. I wouldn't abuse my skills like that."
"Is that right?" He hummed. "Then, I'm guessing you'll be going to the Newtopia Magical Institute when you grow up then?"
She wished but alas, Maddie shook her head. "Nope."
Albus blinked, surprised. "W-why? Without a license from there, then you're not a legitimate magic practitioner. And that's…"
"Illegal, I know."
As she climbed over a surfaced tree root, she lugged her bag along with her, fixing her balance. "The business of magic, curses and potions is only allowed for magic license holders. And you can only get a license from the Newtopia Magical Institute. Unfortunately, that school is only open for newts, exclusively." She exclaimed, almost emotionless.
"Oh…" Albus voiced. He didn't know that. When you live your entire life with an invisible privilege, it's hard to notice it even existed. It seemed obviously for magicians to go to the institute but thinking back, that was only obvious for newts like him. Even attending the public Newtopia University was in his favour; frogs or toads that graduated there would have a hard time getting a high-ranking job in a sector dominated by newts.
As Maddie continued to walk, she noticed her partner lagging behind, guilt-stricken in thought. "Hey! Don't feel bad about it. It's not like it's your fault."
"I guess…"
Seemed like he needed more convincing. Maddie sighed. "Look, just because you're a newt, doesn't mean you should be blamed for every unfair advantages you newts have. For someone like you, just knowing it is already enough." She then chuckled awkwardly. "Besides, magic has been practised longer than Newtopia even existed. A stupid law that only enforceable in some territories isn't going to stop it."
Albus smiled, feeling a bit more hopeful. "You, little girl, have a way with words. Not good ways but ways. Now, if only you could stop scaring the tail off of me."
"I have done nothing to warrant such fear."
"Your very presence makes me afraid, and I have a feeling you do it on purpose."
Maddie grinned toothily. "That's ridiculous."
You see that? That's called 'bonding' and it's done between two characters with so different personalities, one could have never assumed that they'd be friendly to begin with. It's actually ridiculous but when people say that friendships could appear from the most unlikely of places, this was what they meant.
Just a foodie newt and a weird magic girl, trekking through the backwoods while carrying illegal substances. You could make a movie out of this!
Just then, perfectly timed as if this was a story, the mayor of Wartwood and his assistant rushed through the bushes, heading straight through them. Also, for some peculiar reason, they were also carrying a wooden statue of the said mayor, though with chiselled pecs and bulging muscles. Maddie felt her eyes burn just by looking at it and she's seen a lot of crazy stuff.
The two newcomers passed them hurriedly and barely said a greeting.
"Out of the way, folks!"
"Important business coming through!"
How rude.
Maddie stared at their disappearing figures, her brows raised slightly. "Was that Frodrick and his assistant…?" She tapped her chin, thinking.
Albus coughed. "Toadie."
"Yeah, Toodles."
"They were in quite a hurry, and carrying an exceptional statue with them. I wonder why?" Albus remarked. He then turned towards Maddie and frowned. "Also, 'Frodrick'? He's the mayor of our town; at the very least, you can call him by his title. And 'Toodles'? Really?"
She shrugged. "I don't respect politicians."
Of course.
Immediately after, they got answer to their question. Trailing just seconds behind, an army of cockroaches appeared. And oh boy, did they not look friendly.
Albus smacked his lips. "Ah, so that's why they were running."
They started running.
It was bright. Even with his eyes closed, he could see a white heavenly light. Church bells rang, strings played in the distance and angels sang hymns in choirs. Although his eyes were barely opened, he saw endless pure clouds, on top of which a pair of golden gates stood tall and imposingly.
Behind those gates, a newt woman stood, wearing the whitest robes he had ever seen. Her face was veiled from a ray of holy light, yet he could tell, without a doubt, that this woman was the most beautiful person in the world.
"Is that you, Mama? Have you come to visit me from heaven?" Tritonio asked, yet the woman stood still, not a peep from her mouth. It took a moment but as the lights dimmed and his senses acclimated, that's when it hit him. "Wait a minute, I don't have a mother."
Immediately, his eyes unblurred and to his surprise, the first person he saw was actually Felicia. Seeing him stir, the cafe owner looked at him with shock.
"Tritonio! You're finally awake!" Felicia exclaimed happily, sitting just beside him.
Tritonio slowly sat upright, noticing that he was in bed. He groaned and hissed painfully, his head throbbing and his body sore for some reason. "Felicia? Mi amor, w-what happened?" He asked. "Ugh… Last thing I remembered, I was… looking for your daughter. And I think we had a spar?"
She nodded. "Yes, I heard. Ivy filled me in with the details. She was going on about you attempting to rob us blind but then, miraculously stopped by – and I quote – 'Mayor Toadstool's handsomer and muscular twin brother'.
Tritonio blinked. "What?"
"That's what I said too." She sighed. "Afterwards, she dragged you here in tears and begged me to help treat you while you were out cold."
Tritonio blinked again. "Wait, really?"
Felicia smiled kindly. "Ivy might not look or act like it but she cares. She has outbursts and we have disagreements but I can always trust her to be an honest-to-goodness frog." She said, silently complimenting her own parenting skills. "It's just hard being a lady that's still growing. At that age, you start seeing the world as it is and tend to think it disagrees with you. Trying to find a place can be difficult."
He… couldn't tell. He expected she was a troublesome child and to be fair, he was justified to think that way with the trouble she put him through, but children were a lot more complicated that he first assumed. Maybe even more so than an adult.
Children often told the blunt truth because they had no reason to lie. On the other tail, adults lied often because they had experience and could tell what the truth entailed. And the more a child grew, the more experience they gained and the more reason they had to lie.
Yet, Ivy didn't, not because she was inexperienced but because she was honest. She could've gotten into trouble with her mother but she knew better; the truth was worth it, even with its consequences.
"… Maybe I should go talk to her. After all, I am supposed to be a good male role model."
Getting out of bed, he left the room and went straight to Ivy's. Having lived here for a month now, he was familiar with the rooms of the establishment. But he never once entered Ivy's bedroom before and really, he never thought of it either.
In front of the door, he knocked.
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK.
"Ivy? May I come in?" Tritonio asked. There was no reply.
Slowly, he twisted the handle – it was not locked – and opened the door. Right away, he saw Ivy sitting on her bed, facing away from the door. Although muffled, he could hear her weeping. As he opened the door even more, it creaked and Ivy, with tears-filled eyes, turned and quickly wiped them away.
"You're okay!" Ivy said, running towards him. Without warning, she wrapped her hands around his waist which shocked him so much that he hastily went for his swords, only to find his weapons not on his person.
"E-ehh…" He hesitated, then awkwardly patted her on the back. "A-and you too, little girl!"
While he continued patting her on the back, Ivy suddenly came to a realization and shrieked. She slapped his hand away and leapt back, before promptly donning a combat-ready stance.
"Well, seems like we're back to step Uno." Tritonio muttered, wagging his pained hand.
"I-I wasn't worried about you or anything! Don't get the wrong idea!"
Tritonio raised both hands free. "Alright, alright, I believe you." He said with a teasing smirk. Ivy's face turned red and she quickly shook it off, growling in the end.
Felicia was right in so many ways.
Slowly, the newt kneeled down to one knee, lowering himself to her height. "You know, you're pretty good with a staff. You have a lot of strength, all concentrated in this small package. Under the right guidance, you could be a powerful warrior." He claimed with a puff of his chest. "Maybe I could teach you a few tricks. I am a master of countless weapons."
Ivy gave it some thought, relaxing her stance.
"You don't have to answer it now." Tritonio added. "This offer is open for as long as I am in Wartwood. After all, I can't exactly teach from a distance."
"You're going to leave Wartwood?" Ivy asked.
Tritonio froze. While he did enjoy his time in this small town, he was, unfortunately, a criminal at large. Staying in one area was the worst strategy, so it's best he moved from place to place. Still, this has got to be the longest he's ever stayed without a disguise or fake identity. Nothing has happened yet.
Tritonio breathed in sharply. "Well…"
Ivy frowned deeply. "I can't believe it! You're just going to leave, after all we've done for you?!"
"Didn't you want me to leave?"
"That's not the point!" Ivy yelled. "Ugh, and to think I almost liked you! You're no different than dad!"
Tritonio stopped. As Ivy stomped back to her bed, facing frustratedly away from him, the gears in the newt's head began turning. This hasn't got be a coincidence. He let out a sigh and after standing back up, he walked to Ivy's bed and sat beside her.
For the first few seconds, it was silent. Neither party said a word, both just tolerating the other's company. Eventually, he broke the silence, coughing and scratching his head.
"You know, I never knew my real parents." He started. "I was a street urchin before being adopted into the Espada Familia, a family of mercenaries and hoodlums. I was very good with a sword – the best, actually. Enough so that I was quite popular with the ladies back home."
He chuckled, though it felt empty. "But… I was never truly part of the family. They took me in because I was useful, and I stayed because I got free food, clothing and shelter. It was mutually beneficial."
Ivy gave no response, and Tritonio sighed. "Still, even as a grown newt, I sometimes dream of what it'd be like to have actual parents. Of course, I don't need them anymore but a fantasy's a fantasy. "
He turned to the girl beside him, even if she herself turned away. "Even if I do leave, it has been a wonderful time here. I won't lie; this shabby hamlet has a special place in my heart, alongside good women and good food." And shiny, expensive treasures but that was best left unsaid. "I won't know when I'll leave but until then, I won't be going anywhere else."
"Just you, me and your very attractive mother."
Ivy looked at him with horror, and gagged. "Ugh, gross! Don't say that!"
"What, it's true! She's got those child-bearing womanly hips that drive the most noblest of men into wild animals."
Ivy clasped her hands to her earholes and shrieked. "Stoooop! I don't want to hear that!"
He began to laugh and despite it all, Ivy laughed with him. It's funny how fate worked; he was never a fan of children and yet, here he was, joking genuinely next to one. No deceit, no masks and no secrets. Just a friendship that transcended generations.
Tritonio stood up and cleared his throat. "Alright then, why don't you and I start training right away, yes? The day is still young!"
Ivy nodded. "I want to know how to kill a toad grunt with my bare hands!"
"… We'll get to that."
CRASH!
"AAAH!"
Suddenly, a heavy crash sound came from downstairs, followed by a recognisable shriek. The two immediately turned to the noise and rushed to the scene post-haste. As they reached the ground floor of the tea shop, what they witnessed was nothing short of startling.
There, having broken through the window, numerous cockroaches were scurrying about, running their hairy little legs all over the tea shop. They climbed across the walls, crashing into tables and chairs, and breaking everything in sight.
Felicia, adopting a broom, smacked the cockroaches around, keeping them away from her more fragile utensils. "Back! Get back, you! Don't you date touch my expensive china!"
SMACK! POUND! WHACK!
Felicia continued her assault on the bugs, throwing them left and right. The furniture and decorations were replaceable but her teaware? Those cost a fortune. Some of them were even hand-me-downs from her previous employer, carrying an additional sentimental value.
It took a while but in time, the cockroaches began to learn and so, scurried off and away from the very angry lady in an apron. Felicia Sundew huffed, stomping her foot in dominance. "And don't come back!"
From the stairs, Tritonio whistled. "Ooo, that is so hot."
"MOM!" Ivy yelled, running down the stairs.
"Ivy!" Felicia called back, running to her. The mother and daughter instantly hugged and Felicia, ever the parent, quickly checked on her baby girl. "Ivy, are you alright?!"
Ivy nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. What's going on?!"
"It seems like we've got ourselves a pest problem." The restaurant owner exclaimed. "They're just cockroaches, thankfully – not hard to handle but they can get a bit overwhelming. You don't see them out in the open that often though."
On cue, the bugs returned for revenge, appearing through the front door, their mandibles and thin hair legs chittering against one another. To be fair, they were just bugs – not the smartest of creatures. They lived only through instinct and do not have the best of memory. It might not even be about revenge. It could just be food.
Felicia pushed Ivy behind her and readied her broom. If these bugs wanted another smacking, then she'd gladly provide. However, Tritonio strutted to in front of her and this time, he was very armed.
In the background, you could hear the stringing of a Spanish guitar.
"Not to worry, señoritas, for you have this devilishly handsome pest control at your beck and call." He said with a smirk.
SCHWING!
He pulled out his swords.
"Now, come! And taste the sweet blades of Tritonio Espada, protector of Wartwood!"
On a road to Wartwood central, there was a rhinoceros beetle named Shishkebab. Big and husky this beetle was, much like his brothers and sister, and were often used in transporting heavy materials and equipment across dangerous areas such as active battlefields or monstrous forests. Shishkebab, however, was retired, having served its time and honourably discharged alongside its owner.
Stumpy was not its owner. Well, not its original. Its original owner died just 2 weeks before retirement and it happened to be discharged in the same period as Stumpy. Seeing that no one in its unit was capable of taking care of it, the heavily-scarred armoured beetle was given to the former army cook as a consolation prize.
It was pretty boring, to be honest.
In the driver's seat, Stumpy held the reins. "So… How's Sherry? Haven't heard from her for a while." He asked. "Honestly, I was surprised to get a letter from her and how she was going to send you two here. I was going to decline but my restaurant went through a bit of remodelling and it got busier than ever. Felt that a few extra hands wouldn't hurt."
Chiddy and Middy looked at one another. Sherry, their mother, lived in Newtopia and was the manager of a jewellery store. It sold all sorts of silver and gold jewellery in various prices, including a selection of more affordable pieces. It was actually popular for engaged couples to visit the store and get their rings.
As for how an amputee frog and a middle-class newt came to become as close as family, that's actually a very funny story for another time.
Chiddy – a reminder that that's the blue one – shrugged. "I guess she's doing okay? I mean, it's the same old newts looking and buying the same old shiny things."
"And who's this… Elder Chameleo?" Stumpy asked, recalling them mentioning that name prior.
The two girls perked. "Oh, the Great Elder? He's, like, one of the top brass of Priesthood. He usually gives sermons and stuff and shows us the wonder of technology from the lost ages." Chiddy gushed.
Middy – the pink one – nodded. "We never get to talk to him but then, he came to us directly! It was so cool and we were so nervous!"
"He heard that we were being sent to Wartwood, so he gave us a mission to spread our faith to Frog Valley by establishing a foothold."
"We're just acolytes and suddenly, we get this huge responsibility. That's, like, a multi-level promotion!"
Stumpy raised a brow. This elder person seemed like a big-shot, yet he's never heard of him before. "Seems like a pretty big job for a pair of young girls such as yourself."
Middy crossed her arms. "Hey, we're 18 years old! We can handle ourselves."
"I know a girl that's half a decade younger and somehow, more mature."
"I mean… we do have a second job…" Chiddy muttered. She then pulled a closed envelope from her robe. It looked plain with no distinctive markings, not even an address. "We're supposed to give someone this letter. Elder Chameleo told us that we'll know who it is once we see them but, uh, we're not sure who that is."
"Well, that's mysterious and vague. That letter's not something dangerous, right?" The chef asked.
"How would we know? We don't open other newts' mail."
Stumpy huffed proudly. "Well, at least Sherry taught you well."
Again, really funny story. You'd love to hear it.
As they slowly approached the town's limit, Stumpy had a bad feeling. Something deep down to his very toes told him – danger was ahead. While he drove, he remained caution, scanning the area for any potential threats. He may be a chef but he was once a soldier on the Red Duke.
It was then a cockroach appeared from a nearby bush. Stumpy pulled the reins, stopping Shishkebab from trampling over the flat bug. The cockroach wasted no time and ran off, disappearing into the bushes again.
Stumpy hummed. "Seems like the town's being overrun." He said.
Getting closer, it became more apparent. There were giant cockroaches almost everywhere, climbing and scurrying over everything. Despite what seemed to look like some kind of apocalyptic event, the townspeople were surprisingly calm. Well, not really calm – they were pissed off – but at least they weren't panicking.
"Welp, it's a good thing I always bring my knives." Stumpy said. Parking his beetle at an empty spot, he opened one of Shishkebab's compartments and grabbed his attachment set, quickly installing a cleaver and a meat grinder. "You girls might not be familiar with this but we get bug attacks every few months or so. It's a somewhat common occurrence and I reckon the same can't be said in Newtopia. You can sit this one out if you want."
Middy gasped. "What? Just sit around and watch, instead of joining in and crushing bugs? No way! That's so awesome!"
"Yeah! We never get to do anything this exciting back home!" Chiddy remarked giddily.
Stumpy chuckled. "Well, I've got a few normal knives in the back. Pick whichever you want."
"Aww yeah! Thanks, Uncle Stumpy!"
"Thanks! You're the best!"
Chiddy, Middy and Stumpy joined the battle! The two newt girls looked like knife-wielding maniacs and immediately jumped in, slicing cockroaches left and right. If this was in any other context, this would actually be extremely gruesome and not for the faint of heart. Thankfully, this was Amphibia where bug repellent was expensive, murder was less illegal, and giant dog-sized cockroaches were only a mild nuisance.
PRRRRRRRRTTTT!
Somewhere in the centre of town, Toadie, now armed with a bandolier of wooden stakes, blew a conch. It grabbed the attention of the entire population of Wartwood, their eyes immediately trailing to his general direction. Next to him, Mayor Toadstool, in a set of newly-cleaned clothes completely identical to his previous one, stood on a wooden soap box.
"MY FELLOW CITIZENS!" He shouted. "We've got ourselves some unexpected and uninvited visitors! Let's give these trash-scurrying bugs a warm Wartwood welcome!"
The frogs of Wartwood cheered, their fists raised in the air. Without fear or worry, they charged into the mass of creepy crawlies, armed with only the basic of tools. Pitchforks, hoes, kitchen knives and brooms. One old lady by the name of Mrs Croaker even broke a wine bottle, fashioning it into a deadly weapon.
On one side, Tritonio slashed his blades in a dance, cleaving cockroaches down to size. With him, Felicia whacked and smacked the bugs with her broom, almost as graceful, and Ivy chose to imitate her mother, hitting them with her own broom.
Stumpy was much slower; he preferred to take his time instead of expending his energy, attacking on the cockroaches that flew into his range. While Tritonio's cuts were clean and straight, Stumpy's were precise and well-placed, He avoided damaging any internal organs, preferring to cut their legs and wings off, and then crushing their heads. These were free ingredients, after all.
Chiddy and Middy were less skilled at it but hey, at least they were having fun; they were repeatedly stabbing a cockroach in a dark alley, akin to a mugging.
As for Albus Duckweed, the resident newt? He was cowering under the table, forcing Maddie Flour to intervene. She threw small pouches of unlabelled magic dust, cursing the cockroaches in all manner of ways. One shrunk to the size of a berry, another found its innards and outwards switching places. There was even one that just straight up died. Like, instant death.
This was a little baker girl, by the way, and she was protecting an adult. How embarrassing.
As time passed and the battle waged on, the cockroaches' superior numbers thinned at an alarming pace. Alas, being the stupid bugs that they were, they didn't realise that their forces were being brutally massacred by, what accounted to, random unassuming townsfolk with boring jobs. To say that this was a battle would be an understatement. It'd be more accurate to call it an extermination.
Eventually, the remainder of the cockroaches finally grew a few braincells and caught on their dwindling numbers. Feeling increasingly unsafe, these smarter (but not that smart; don't praise them) cockroaches decided to retreat back to the Hole, the one place they belonged.
At last, the number of cockroaches went from a few hundred to virtually zero.
PRRRRRRRRTTTT!
Toadie blew the conch. The battle was over.
One frog, sweating from all the murdering, cheered. "WE DID IT!"
"YEAH! GET OUT, YOU STUPID BUGS!" Another cheered with him.
On the soap box, Mayor Frodrick Toadstool, completely and utterly spotless, cleared his throat for a speech. "My fellow citizens, today is a wonderful day! Not only did we repel these abhorrent bugs from our homes and businesses – under my leadership, of course – but they've left behind quite the savoury boon!"
He pointed at all the cockroach carcasses strewn all across town. "So I, your beloved Mayor Toadstool, propose a feast! I'm catering all the chefs and cooks of Wartwood to make a grand selection out of all these delicious meats! A reward for your amazing work!"
"Cheers for Mayor Toadstool!" Toadie called to the crowd.
"HIP-HIP, HOORAY! HIP-HIP, HOORAY!"
While the crowd celebrated like there was no tomorrow, Toadstool leaned in towards Toadie. "Make sure you cover our tracks while everyone's busy. And if anyone gets a bit too suspicious, just tell them it's part of cleanup." He whispered.
Toadie nodded and saluted. "Understood, sir!"
Somehow, this place was untouched.
Somehow, this workshop, housing a master woodsmith, was devoid of any bug guts, heads or dismembered body parts. Somehow, this whole area and the surrounding area was as quiet as a meadow in the first day of spring. The only noise that cut through the ethereal silence was the cheering of townsfolk.
Inside, Leopold Loggle was putting on the finishing touched. "Huh, sure is noisy out there. I hope they aren't planning a party and forgetting to invite dear 'ol beloved Loggle! Now, that would be depressing."
Ignoring it for a moment, he pushed the wooden stave down, causing it to bend, and quickly strung its bowstring. The woven fibre immediately straightened, taut and rigid from the bow's shape. Installing the string was the last thing he needed to do, having oiled it, painted it and even wrapped parts of it with a flexible tape for a better grip.
It was a rather simple, albeit large, English longbow but quality was assured.
"Welp, that's about does it. Not bad for a one-day project, if I do say so myself." He praised himself, admiring his work. "Since I wasn't going to sell it anyway, I'll just put it for display. Maybe it'll find a good owner in the future."
At the front AKA the shop's shop section, he looked to an empty space on his wall, climbed a stool and hammered a couple of nails. There, he placed the bow horizontally, checking to see it's straight and not tilted. Once satisfied, he climbed down, pulled the stool back to the counter and stretched.
It's funny; he only made the bow because he was bored and it fit the materials on hand. Yet, due to the lack of proper planning, the bow's size and draw weight ended up making it nearly impossible to be used by the average frog. You'd need to be as strong as a toad and as tall as a newt to use it.
Who would fit those conditions? Nobody currently in town, that's for sure.
And so, it ended – a day in Wartwood. Just an average tale, played by average people. They had a great party that night and it was open-invitation; everyone came.
Both Stumpy and Felicia prepared a wonderful feast, paid generously by Mayor Toadstool using the town's budget, and aided by Stumpy's newt nieces, Ivy and even Tritonio who did the cutting. Maddie briefly participated at the behest of her father but quickly returned to her quarters. Albus did what he did best and hosted the party, keeping it going all night long. Yep, everyone came.
It's a shame that the Plantars, the protagonists of the series, weren't able to join. But the good news was that their long journey was also coming to an end. After weeks of travel, they've finally reached their destination.
In the driver's seat, Hop Pop steered Bessie along the road. Eventually, they came upon a clearing and from atop of a ledge, there he saw in the distance. "Good news, kids! We've finally arrived!"
Down from that ledge and across many more, in an open muddy plain a mile or so away, was a city. Made entirely of colourful and vibrant coral, this giant intimidating city stood proudly, its very presence demanding attention. Outside the city were numerous tents and small shops, the traders bustling and doing business amongst each other. And that's not even said to what's inside the city, hidden behind an impressive beige wall taller than the tallest trees and only visible through its unbreakable iron gate.
The crown jewel of Amphibia.
"Welcome to Newtopia."
SLAM!
The fwagon's door suddenly opened, breaking off its hinges. Inside, Sasha Waybright growled, her appearance dishevelled and her hair frayed. Like a wild animal, she then proceeded to scream.
"YEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAA—!"
