I don't see the confusingness 8D.... Hmm. I can just see it; this could be the baby chuggler, mad that its territory is being pinched, then mummeh will come to crack some skulls:D. And someone dai'd 8O. Yay interestingness:D.
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That was awesome! I wonder what's next for Stranger and Charlotte though. I hope it's a spyider.
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Chapter 15
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--- Charlotte had to admit that the grubbs were pretty good cooks. The pike they'd caught were cooked to perfection over a roaring fire, and she'd ended up eating four of them before she was satisfied. She sat with everyone else outside, licking her fingers and tossing a fishbone aside. "What next?" She asked, sitting up. Ophelia sighed and daintily wiped her lips with a napkin. "We have much to discuss in the temple," she said, "about the elder's predictions." "Oh odd, those old geezers won't be there, will they?" Charlotte groaned. Ophelia looked as though she had been slapped. "Of course they will! They predicted it in the firstplace. And since then they've had more predictions about you and Stranger's mission." Charlotte's eyebrows contracted. "'Me and Stranger's?'" Stranger had heard this. He double-taked, looking confused. "What'r we doing?" He asked, the thought of having to do anything with Charlotte too much to bear. "Oh, you know, a few errans..." Ophelia said, rolling her eyes. "...life-saving and such. Species-saving, in fact." Stranger choked noticably. Charlotte jumped to her feet, her rifle in her hands. "Your kidding!" She snarled, glaring at Stranger. "You can't... I'd never...!" "...I don't mean it like that!" Ophelia snapped, slapping her forehead. "Thank odd." "I mean saving other steef. Living steef, y'know." "Uh, right." Stranger sighed, looking immensely relieved. Charlotte sat back down, her face red. "Lets go!" said Ophelia happily, springing to her feet. Charlotte made a huge effort of standing up again. Stranger did the same. Ophelia marched up to the temple and pushed open the door. The three stepped inside and looked around. "We really need all these grubbs here?" Stranger asked, looking from wall to wall. The building was packed with grubbs, all chattering at once. "They all want to see if there's a chance of bringing the steef back," Ophelia explained, violently shoving the grubbs in front of her out of the way. She pushed her way through the crowd closely followed by Stranger and Charlotte. Stranger was obviously pissed to have to listen to hundreds of grubbs all talking at once; Charlotte looked claustrophobic. "Move!" Ophelia yelled, pushing one final grubb out of the way. They'd finally forced their way onto a tall, circular stage in the middle of the temple, where the five grubb elders sat side-by-side on leafy cushions. "Elders!" Ophelia cried, "I bring you our steef." Charlotte and Stranger stood there, unsure of what to do. The crowd fell silent. Reed, who considered himself the lead elder, shifted his weary gaze on the pair. He nodded. "Good. We have news." "Good news!" Cod cut in, giddy with exitment. Reed coughed loudly before continuing. "So far," he began, "we believe that there are seven steef left, including you two. We have reason to believe that there are more, but we are unsure, so we'll focus on what we've got. The five steef we haven't discovered are, coincidentally, somewhere in the mongo reigon, and we have a good idea of where they are. "One is somewhere in the Mongo marshes, living in most dangerous conditions, but is somehow managing. One is near New Yolk city. You can't really go there, though; everyone knows Stranger's a steef out there. One lives out in the badlands, where nobody dares to venture. And," he said triumphantly, "two are said to be living in the legendary grubb village Nether, high atop an ancient canyon in the desert. But nobody is sure if the Nethergrubbs are even real." "Wait," Stranger said, "you know where five steef live." "Yup." "...and they all live in hostile places?" "Unfortunately, yes." Stranger nodded slowly. "So!" Reed spread his arms. "Where would you like to go first?" "Can't we think about it first?" Charlotte asked weakly. All the grubbs in the room wilted in dissapointment. "You aren't ready to look for more steef?" Ophelia wimpered. "No! Its not that, its just..." Charlotte scratched her head, "is that all the information you can give us." "I'm afraid so." The grubb seer Beetle said, shaking his head. There was a long pause. Charlotte bit her tounge, deep in thought. Stranger fell silent and looked at the ground. Finally she turned to him. "How about we look for those ones living in the Nethervillage?" She suggested. "If we find two steef in one, they can help us look for more steef." "Sounds fine t'me." Stranger shrugged. Ophelia butted in. "Wait!" She squeaked. "Before you go chasing a grubb village that might not even exist, maybe you should look for someone else? Just in case?" "Okay, who?" "The steef in New Yolk," Reed recommended, "its the closest one. And New Yolk isn't huge, you could find him or her easily." "But Stranger can't go there," Brook said. "Try the steef in the marshes first, that should be easy." "No way! We can't have them up to their waist in mud without some more help," Minnow growled. "Go to the badlands, its not as bad as it sounds..." Stranger settled the matter. "We'll go to New Yolk first, its closest. Charlotte cn'look fer the steef there, they don't know who she is." "Good idea!" Reed nodded. The other two seers shook their heads sadly. "You can set off tomorrow." "Tomorrow?" Charlotte echoed. "Why so soon?" Ophelia rounded on her. "If you want more steef, then you need to hustle and find 'em!" "I'm not the one that wanted to do this!" Charlotte growled. "But you do want to find more steef." "True," Charlotte sighed. "Well then!" Mola said, weaving his way through the crowd. "Its settled! Tomorrow it is! Can I come?" "No." Ophelia growled. "You're the last person they'll need." "Actually, thats not such a bad idea," Cod beamed. "He can be your pack mule." "Wait!" Mola yelped. "Too late, you're the pack mule. You said you wanted to come." Stranger said. Mola began to argue, but his voice trailed off. "Okay." He sniffed. "I'll do it. But I won't like it." "We didn't ask if you would like it." Stranger growled. Mola shriveled. "I'll go away now." He wimpered, backing into the crowd. "Tomorrow," Ophelia sighed as grubbs began to leave the temple, hurriedly talking. "I hope you two are ready." She left with the rest of the grubbs, leaving Charlotte and Stranger alone in the wide temple. |
And so it continues:D. I remeber my Stranger fanfic, I had a bunch of steef characters, one was a big black one used as a matador-bull type thing...Anyways, enough of me, yay you 8D.
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That was a good chapter. Poor Mola. He's kind of funny. I almost don't even have to say to continue but I will anyway. Continue!
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Chapter 16
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Btw, I skipped the part on them traveling to New Yolk City. Nothing really happened during that time, and it wasted space. And I made this chapter short because my next chapter will be really, really long. :D ----- Bang! Bang! Bang! Charlotte opened her eyes and glanced out the window. It was early morning; there was hardly any light outside, and the lights were off in every building all around. BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG! The frantic slamming on her door persisted. She groaned, got to her feet, and staggered to the door. She opened it. "Come on, we have to go!" Mola said, bobbing up and down. He was wearing a new pair of swimming trunks, his same domed-straw hat, had a satchel over one arm. Charlotte closed the door. She cleaned her face with a bucket of water on her nightstand and began packing her things, her eyes distant and slightly crossed. Her exhausted brain processed a thought, and she opened the door again. "What the hell are you doing here? Its like six in the morning," she yawned. Mola grinned. "We need to go! We have no time to waste!" He said urgently. "Have you woken Stranger up yet?" She asked. "I tried," Mola sighed, "but he threw his boots at me." "I'm going back to bed." She said, closing the door again. Mola tried to protest but gave up and sat at her doorstep, watching as the sun slowly rose. He closed his eyes and sighed, mentally preparing himself for the trip. --- It had only taken a few hours to get to New Yolk. They ran into a few outlaws along the way, but they were pushovers; Mola was the only person who had seemed uneasy when they had attacked. Despite their uneventful journey they were all relieved when they had finally arrived. "Here we are," Stranger said as they left the port athority. It was late, and clakkers usually weren't out; it would be safe for Stranger to be in town for the moment. "New Yolk." Mola said exitedly. "I always wanted to see it. I heard its really big." "Its as big as any clakker town." Stranger shrugged. "Jus' twice as many clakkers." "We should have no problem then," Charlotte smiled; but the glow quickly left her face as they entered the town. The place was crawling with clakkers, outlaws, and wolvarks alike, and none of them seemed to notice the trio. "This is New Yolk?" Charlotte asked, raising an eyebrow. "Not anymore..." Stranger muttered. Groups of outlaws and wolvarks were huddled around a fire lit in a trashcan, discussing hunting tactics. Posh clakkers sat in front of the bounty store, wielding rifles and polishing gore-splattered beartraps. But there was something else there that sent a shiver down their spines; it was the fact that on every billboard, every electricity pole and in every window, there was a steef head wanted poster. Charlotte caught on. She backed up, her spine ridgid. "We have to get out of here..." she whispered, terror in her voice. If any of them looked their way, they would both be dead. She turned swiftly on her heel and began stalking away, trying to act casual, when unexpectantly a short clakker jumped in front of her. "Howdy!" He squeaked, causing Charlotte to jump. "You here for 'the Hunt?'" "'The Hunt?'" She echoed. The clakker nodded vigorously. "The steef hunt! There's been loads of sightings around here. Rumor has it that it could be the last steef in the Mongo reigon!" The clakker failed to notice the terror flooding Charlotte's face. Stranger grabbed her wrist and tugged it. "Lets go." He said quickly, tightening his grip. She followed him back to the port athority without saying a word, her eyes cloudy and disoriented. She blinked furiously, struggling to form words, when suddently she snapped. "How could they do that?" She cried. "Its disgusting! That poor steef, does it even know its being hunted? There were so many of them, it won't stand a chance!" "You used to be an outlaw, you should be used to killing people." Stranger growled, though it was obvious that he was just as upset as she was. "But this is differant!" She sniffled. "Hey guys!" Mola piped up, standing on his tip-toes to get their attention. "If we find the steef first there won't be any problems." "But what chance will we have?" Stranger asked, rubbing his eyes. Charlotte fell silent. "Not a good one," Mola muttered. "But what choice do we have? --- Boe Badagger had a reputation in the Mongo reigon for being an expert steef poacher; if anyone had a chance at killing that steef, he did, at least thats what he thought. He sat by one of the trashcan fires in the middle of town, waiting for an update from one of his crew. He wore a wide-brimmed straw hat, a white shirt with two strips of machine-gun ammo crisscrossing his chest, and torn shorts. "What is it?" The tall wolvark growled as he took a deep breath from one of his cigars. One of the outlaws in his gang spoke quickly. "There's been another sighting down by the water a few minutes ago," he informed, looking to make sure nobody was listening in. "Its a big one, looks dangerous, man." Boe sighed and tapped his cigar, causing ash to fall. "No problem," he grinned, pulling a long metal coil from his back pocket. It was thickly woven, and had a loop at one end- every steef hunter had one. It was a cruel device used for containing and strangling dangerous male steef. "Its nothing we can't handle. Get the rest of the gang, we got a steef ta hunt!" |
I can just imagine that. It resemble New York very well. Or at least quite a while back. I am dieing to hear more on the hunt for the steef. And this device you speak of goes great with it. Makes him seem even more diabolic. More please!
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Chapter 17
Sorry it took so long, I've had a busy week. :)
----- The first rays of morning light shone through the treetops, illuminating the trickling water and moist sand below. A chippunk crawled out of a small hole in a tree, yawning as it bounced around, only to be scared back inside again seconds later. BLAM! Gunfire echoed above the Mongo river, causing Bo Bedagger to flinch. "Idjit!" He snarled, tearing the gun from the outlaw's hand. "Ya don't fire at everything that moves! Yer gonna scare the steef away!" "S'rry boss." The outlaw wimpered, ducking down as if to avoid Bo's wrath. Bo made a habit of being tempermental during hunts; often the angrier he became, the closer they came to making a catch. "Fools." The wolvark hissed, scoping the area with wide-brimmed binoculars. "Gonna scare it away. I didn't come all the way fer nothin'." He stuffed the binoculars in his satchel and bent down, examining the sand below his feet. The outlaws and wolvarks in his group behind him gossiped, unaware that he was listening. "I heard a guy over by the abandoned grubb graveyard got the shit beaten out of him by that steef..." "...yeah, thats what I heard, he shot at it before he was even in range, the idiot--" "Hey!" Bo snarled, slamming one of the outlaws with a rock-hard fist. "Enough gossip, lazy asses! We've got a trail!" "Where?" The outlaw sputtered, picking himself off the ground and wiping blood from his lip. "Look." Bo grumbled, pointing to a single hoof print in the sand. "Its facing towards the wilds." "So?" An outlaw asked. Bo smacked him to the ground as well. "Moron! It means the steef's in the Mongo wilds! Use your brain!" He snapped, cocking his rifle. The outlaw wimpered pitifully. "O-okay boss." He stuttered, picking himself up off the ground. Bo signalled for the group to follow. "Come on." He grumbled, pushing aside some bracken and heading deeper down the valley. He placed a hand against his brow and scanned the horizon, his piercing yellow eyes bright with exitement. "Look! There!" The wolvark skipped over to a nearby tree, giggling like a happy child. He pointed to a deep groove in the bark that looked like it had been cut by a knife. "Claw mark! We're getting closer!" He skipped onward, brimming with anticipation. The outlaw behind him fingered the mark. "Don't look like nuthin to me," he muttered. He knew better than to tell Bo, though. "We'll set up here," Bo said, marking the ground with his foot. "Plant a few beartraps, a snare or two, you know, the usual." They got to work. They opened beartraps and hid them under leaves, placed snares and nooses at neck level inbetween branches, and dug spikes into the ground. Bo loaded his weapon. "Good work. Now all we have to do is wait." --- A long procession of steef hunters left New Yolk, eager to get a head start in the hunt. Many were leaving at once, unwilling to be beat by other hunters. Charlotte, Stranger and Mola found themselves inbetween two groups as they passed through the New Yolk Athority. "I remember," a clakker recalled, "one time, I had one cornered near Dead Hen's Pass..." Charlotte felt a peculiar feeling rising in her stomach. It traveled up her back until she felt the hairs on her neck rise, and she closed her fist. She was tempted to tear the face off of everyone talking about how they had killed a steef. "Oh, yeah..." another clakker said. "I tracked down two steef by Buzzarton one time, it only took one bullet-" "No kidding? How'd ya manage that?" Another asked. The clakker stuck out his chest proudly. "I just have really good aim, I guess. It wasn't hard, really." "Don't do it," Stranger growled threataningly as he saw Charlotte reaching for her rifle. She grunted angrily and stashed her weapon. They left the port athority and found themselves standing on the docks overlooking the water. Mola squealed and cannon-balled into the water, causing fish to dash away. "Where do we start?" Stranger asked, gazing around. Charlotte shrugged. "Wherever we want to go." She said. Mola poked his head out of the water. "How about the wilds?" He suggested, paddling in circles. "If I were a steef, i'd hide there." "Yeah, but I bet all the hunters are going there." Stranger sighed. "Then we'll get there first!" Mola grinned, clamoring onto the dock and running down the bank. Charlotte and Stranger followed, their eyes shifting uneasily. Somehow they knew something was wrong. Mola ran twice as fast as they did, and he soon vanished into the bracken. "Do you think we'll find anything?" Charlotte asked. Stranger scratched his head. "I dunno, we might find something-" "WAARGH!" An earsplitting scream sounded ahead, followed by a loud clang. Something thrashed around violently in front of them, causing the trees to rattle. An outlaw's voice called from behind a tree: "Hey, we got summat!" "Hide!" Charlotte hissed, diving into the bushes. The two steef moved through the underbrush soundlessly, and peeked through the leaves. "Hey!" an outlaw yelled, sounding cheated. "Its not a steef at all!" A particularly tall and slim wolvark leapt out from behind a tree, his teeth bared. "Some dumb grubb got caught in our trap, eh?" He snarled, prodding Mola with his rifle. Mola was handing upside-down by his foot in a snare hanging in the trees. How he had managed to get his foot caught in a snare twice as high up as he was, Charlotte didn't know. "Lemmie go!" He cried, thrashing around. "You'll regret it!" "Oh, really?" The wolvark chuckled, grabbing Mola by the neck. "I'll regret it? What'll you do, tough guy?" "I won't do anything," Mola said, crossing his arms, "but I know someone who will." Mola looked expectingly into the bushes. Oh, he means us? Charlotte thought with a sigh. Sorry Mola, you're stuck for now. "I said," Mola said loudly, "I know someone who will do something..." "Should we help him?" Charlotte asked Stranger, her voice barely audible. "Hell no." Stranger growled. There was a pause. Mola started wimpering, his eyes as large as saucers and his lip trembling. "Guys? Guys!" "Enough games," The wolvark snarled, tearing down the snare, and Mola along with it. "You got in our trap, you're gonna suffer fer it!" "Yeah!" Other outlaws and wolvarks joined in, emerging from behind trees and under bushes. Mola seemed to sink into himself, as if trying to make himself smaller. He wimpered, his eyes wet. "You jerks!" He yelped, looking around in the bushes. Stranger sighed. "I guess we need to save him," he admitted. He pulled a bolamite from his bag... ...something huge and deadly mowed through the ferns near the water, moving abnormally swiftly despite its bulk. A voice like an avalanche echoed down the canyon, a huge roar that caused the water to tremble... "The steef!" The wolvark cried, cramming bullets into the back of his rifle. "Its close! C'mon, boys!" "What about the grubb?" One asked, giving Mola a swift kick. He tumbled through the bushes with a satisfying thump. "Leave it, its not worth anything!" The wolvark hissed, dashing across the shore. His gang of outlaws closely followed. Once she was sure they were gone, Charlotte emerged from the bushes. "You okay, Mola?" She asked, laying a hand on the grubb's sholder. He looked crestfallen. "You didn't save me!" He whispered, tears streaming down his face. "C'mon Mola," Stranger said, standing up. "What did you think we could do?" "Stop them!" He cried, causing tears to fleck the floor. Charlotte sighed. "I'm sorry Mola, I really am, but we've got to hurry, the steef's nearby!" She stood up, bringing Mola to a standing position. He swiped his arm across his eyes. "Okay." he sniffled. The trio took off after the gang of outlaws. --- Bo Bedagger always had a knack for doing things right; not just right, but extremely well. He could run faster than other wolvarks, jump higher than other wolvarks, and, by wolvark standards, was incredibly handsome. His aim with a rifle was unmatched, his tactical skills were legendary, and his persistence was amazing. Too bad he focused all that energy on tracking down an endangered species. "Ye-haw, boys!" He whistled, watching with awe as the giant lumbering creature before him slammed itself against a tree, knocking it flat. It was strong and fast for a steef, but startlingly un-coordinated. This was expected, though. "Give it another one!" Bo snarled, jumping to the side as the monster charged, his head down. It plowed through the bushes and into the water, throwing his head angrily around. Its dark, messy fur matted its face, and a large scar running down the side of its face created a gap in its lips, revealing sharp teeth. Its angry yellow eyes swiveled as it struggled to pinpoint its target. An outlaw fired a long, thin gun, striking the steef in the sholder. A small dart with a fluffy pink end shown through its fur, fluttering lightly in a breeze. Almost instantly the steef's left side slouched completely, and it roared angrily. Bo smiled. Soon the drug would disorient its mind completely, and its head would be his. The steef charged, still dangerous, and impaled a wolvark on the end of its horns. It threw the limp body with a flick of its head. Outlaws and wolvarks swarmed in a tight circle around the monster, surrounding it. Its eyes were cloudy, and its head was low. Its chest heaved as it sucked in lungfuls of air. It couldin't think strait anymore- it slumped to the side, its left eye half closed. An outlaw slid closer tenatively. It misjudged its footing, and the steef tumbled, crushing him. Unexpectantly it charged, killing dozens of Bo's gang in just one attack. Shots were fired, echoing wildly through the valley, and the steef relentlessly fought on. Bo pulled the metal coil from his pocket and prepared to jump. It seemed like a foolish thing to do, but he was an expert steef hunter, and he knew how they fought. The steef brought his fist crashing down on an outlaw's skull. Bo saw his chance. He sprang on the steef's back and wrapped the coil around its neck. Working quickly, he sent the end of the coil through the loop- the coil was ridged, so that it could tighten but not loosen. He pulled it back painfully far, and clung on desperately. |
That was so cool. Especially with Mola captured for a while even though I almost knew it was going to happen and something would get him out of that mess. I wonder if the steef will survive. If the coil can only tighten I think that it will be very hard to get it off. Keep going. I don't mind the wait.
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:DAwesomes...The steef can remind me of my steef character Minotaur, he was all roary and had to kill to live:p. Plus he has bullhorns, I'm guessing the steef here has bullhorns and that's how he could stab the guy...I'm guessing som of them died from being trampled? Aaaaanyway, next chapter plz:D.
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Chapter 18
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Isn't a minotaur one of those greek monsters with the bull head? Clever name btw. :D ----- "We must be getting closer!" Charlotte announced, ducking to avoid a low-hanging branch. Mola, Stranger and Charlotte ran after the sound of shouting outlaws and stamping hooves growing in the distance, looking tense. They burst through the grove of trees and skidded to a hault. Shit! Charlotte cursed silently. Are we too late? The wolvark they saw before was strutting around, talking to his gang. "That was one hell of a fight, eh?" He asked, aiming a swift kick at the steef lying face-down in the dust. "I can't wait to see the look on my brother's faces when they hear about this!" "Y-yeah." An outlaw stuttered. Charlotte could tell by the way he limped that the steef had broke his leg. "It w-was one hell uvva--" He collapsed in a heap. It was obvious that the gang had never fought anything as violent and dangerous as the steef. The other outlaws and wolvarks all around were picking themselves up, groaning as they held their wounds. One wolvark dragged itself towards the water, a hole in its back where the steef had trampled it, and died. The head wolvark paid no notice. "Aw, stop being such babies! Look, we got what we came for!" He grabbed the steef by its hair and looked at its face. He sneered. "Ew, he's a pretty ugly fella, aint he? Oh well, his head don't have to go on a wall. We could always stuff him-" A thugslug pummeled against his tempel, and the wolvark flip-flopped to the ground. The rest of the gang, who couldin't defend themselves, staired on helplessly as Stranger picked up the stunned wolvark and threw it into the water just because he could. "Is it still alive?" Mola asked, nudging the steef with his foot. Its flank trembled slightly as it sucked in a feeble breath. Charlotte knelt down and started cutting through the wire with a pocket knife, looking utterly dwarfed in comparison to his size. The final wire snapped, and the steef gasped in greedy lungfuls of air, but didn't get up. His eyes were filmed over and it was still twitching. Charlotte grabbed one of the outlaws by the collar of its shirt, disreguarding its wounds. "What's wrong with it?" She demanded. The outlaw's eyes turned fearfully. "Nothing!" "Don't look like nuthing." Stranger growled, loading fuzzles on the end of his bow. The outlaw gave in. "Okay, we did do something--" "What?" Charlotte snapped. "I'm getting to that! We drugged it so it couldin't fight-" "And it still kicked your asses." Mola added dully, crossing his arms. The outlaw gulped. "Y-yeah, it did." "You drugged it so that it couldin't fight?" Charlotte snarled, shaking the outlaw violently. "You bastard! It didn't have a chance to fight back!" The outlaw cringed, his voice shrill. "I h-have the antidote in my pocket--" Charlotte swept the antidote from his pocket and dropped him carelessly. She popped open the bottle's lid and crouched by the steef, whose eyes had fallen shut. She pulled up the side of his lip and emptied the bottle's contents between his teeth, tilted back his head so it trickled down his throat, and waited. Nothing happened. "It t-takes a while." The outlaw wimpered when he saw Stranger test his bow. "Please don't kill me." Charlotte shrugged. "You'd better hope for your sake that you're right." They sat around and waited, scrunching their noses as the scent of blood wafted past their nostrils. Everyone who had survived the attack had limped or dragged themselves away, not wanting to be around when the steef woke up. The wolvark that Stranger had thrown in the water had swam away, sobbing. The steef's breathing slowly steadied, and it seemed calmer. But it still didn't move. Mola splashed around in the water, picking up pretty shells. "How long has it been?" he asked. Stranger looked up at the sun. "An hour, maybe." Charlotte leaned against a tree, snoring loudly. Mola splashed her and she jumped up, startled. "Wha? Whatimiss?" She asked, looking around. "Nothing." Stranger growled. "Nothing? Still?" She asked worriedly. She stood up and dusted herself off. They didn't realise it, but for a second nobody was looking the steef's way. This was followed by a loud trampling of hooves, and angry shouts from Mola. "It moved! And its running away!" He yelped, springing from the water. It bowled through the trees and vanished farther down the shore. "Dammit!" Stranger cursed, following after on all fours. Charlotte and Mola followed, squinting as afternoon light shone in their eyes. Something suddently struck Charlotte. "No!" She shouted. "Its heading for the docks! It'll get killed if it goes there!" |
:DNuma numa yay! I still wonder how he can stab with curly horns, but oh well. And he is all Minotaur-ish, plus tranquilizers can kill, whoo. And yeah, the Minotaur was one of those Greek myths and you has the skill and motivation of a super peanut, so carry on 8).
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Cool! So that's why the steef just laid down. It was pretending so it could run when they weren't looking. I can imagine Stranger picking up that Wolvark and throwing him straight into the water. Peanuts are yummy so I hope that for your sake it proves you have more skill and motivation than a super peanut. Maybe a golf ball?
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Chapter 19
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----- A clakker stood on the shore of the Mongo river by the docks, enjoying the sun. Another clakker walked up to him. "Boy oh boy, sure nice weather were havin'." The clakker said. The other clakker nodded. "Tcheah, you're right about that--- YEARGH!" They were both instantly plowed to the ground. "Do something!" Charlotte screamed, jumping back as the steef reared up on its hind legs and kicked the clakkers' aside. Stranger rounded on her. "What am I supposed to do?" He demanded. "Do what you always do!" "STEEF!" Clakkers wailed, swarming inside the skycart building. "Its gunna eat us!" The steef swung his heavy head as he looked around, utterly confused. He had run to get away from hunters, not find them! He roared angrily and bolted, his head down. His thick horns crushed through boxes and barrels as it charged, throwing shards of wood in every direction. Stranger fired a bolamite as they struggled to keep up, but it wasn't enough to stop the steef, so he seathed his bow and sprinted after it on all fours. The steef cleared a fallen log in the road with one mighty bound, its round eyes blazing with hate, and scuttled across the bridge. Mola dove in the water and skimmed below its surface like a fish, moving at lightning speed. Then he tilted his head and darted from the river's surface, landing right in front of the steef. It was an impressive move; unfortunately it just made the steef feel more trapped than before. "Stop!" Mola yelled. His eyes were wide and angry, as though trying to push the steef away with brainpower alone. "We mean you no harm!" "Its true." Charlotte pleaded. "Just calm down." The steef's hair matted its face, blotting out all facial features exept its eyes, which were bright with fear. Its head swiveled and it ducked down, unsure. Charlotte slowly moved closer. She lifted her hand carefully, making small, soothing noises. The steef made no move to stop her. She continued sliding her feet until she was just feet away. The steef's ears started turning, and it snorted, backing up against the cliff's wall. "Its okay," Charlotte whispered. Her fingertips smoothed down the fur behind his ears, and smiled when it seemed to calm down. "This way!" They heard a clakker shout. "The steef's this way!" "Shit," Stranger cursed as he caught sight of a large group of steef-hunters running up the path. The steef grunted and stood up, baring his sharp, shearing teeth. "There it is!" Somebody screamed. Without hesitating the steef dashed forward, slamming into the crowd with the force of a charging bull. The startled cries of clakkers and wolvarks soon echoed off the canyon walls. "This way!" Mola squeaked, making a break for the path. The four weaved around the dock and hurried up the steep hill to the port athority. The clakker inside was idily preening his feathers, and fell out of his chair when he saw the steef jump through the entrance and continue down the tunnel. They left the port athority, and caused a huge uproar as they sped from one side of New Yolk to the other. Shots were fired and threats were screamed, but it was nothing they couldin't handle. With New Yolk far behind them, the four finally stopped to rest. The steef stamped the ground with its hooves as if anticipating another attack. "I think we lost em'." Stranger grunted, looking down the path. The sounds of the city had died away in the distance, leaving an eerie silence. "What were you doing here?" Charlotte asked the steef gently. The steef shook its head angrily, and spoke in primitive barks, as if it rarely spoke. "Hiding." It growled. "Why here?" She asked. "Because." "Why?" She scratched her head. "I had nowhere to go." It said quietly. "Good!" Mola said happily. "You can come with us, then." The steef ducked its head, his eyes shifting worriedly. "Why?" He demanded. Stranger shrugged and leaned against the canyon wall. "Tha's why we came here," he said. The steef seemed unconvinced. It tilted back its head and perked its ears, listening for the sound of steef hunters lurking in the bushes. He heard nothing. "My name's Charlotte." Charlotte smiled, motioning towards Stranger and Mola. "And this is Stranger and Mola." "I'm Cyren." the steef muttered, looking satisfied. "Why were you looking for me?" "Its hard to explain," Charlotte sighed. "Fine," the steef said uneasily. "I guess I'll come with you." |
What a chapter. That was fantastic! Next time I'll have to eat peanuts with it. Or popcorn.
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You spell couldin't wrong, its spelt couldn't. Just me criticising 8D.
Aaaaanyway...Yay steef can speak! And he is secretely Charlotte's daddeh and Stranger's ex boyfriend and the son of Mola! I kid, you has more motivation than me, carry on for the souls and pwnage:D. And the Chuggler pic reminds me of an outlaw with bandages and nu eyes :p. |
Chapter 20
-The Next Day-
"I'm ruined!" The wolvark sobbed, slamming his head against the bar's table. The barkeeper replaced the beer bottle held loosely in the wolvark's hand with a full one, which the wolvark drank greedily. The barkeeper was used to people like him; they stumbled into his bar, sobbing like maniacs, and drank so much that they forgot what they were upset about to begin with. He didn't mind, though. Most people paid their tabs, drunk or not. "What's wrong?" The barkeeper dared to ask, cleaning a glass with a dirty cloth. The wolvark sat up suddently, shivering despite the warm air. "It... was... horrible!" He screamed, grabbing the barkeeper by the collar of his shirt. He continued to clean his glass as though nothing had happened. "Go on," said the barkeeper. The wolvark sniffled loudly. "Get this; we heard of this steef, right? Damn monster, it was! We caught it too, we were gonna sell it, we would've made a fortune, but..." he collapsed suddently, soaking the table with unsupressed tears. The barkeeper patted him on the back. "It got away?" He asked gently. "Worse! Someone s-stole it! And it was still alive! I didn't even get ta skin it!" he howled, his voice muffled by the table. His hand closed tightly around his glass until it threataned to break. The bartender looked perplexed. "Someone stole it? Before you killed it?" He asked. The wolvark nodded. "Two furry freaks an' a grubb. An odd-damn grubb! How the hell did I let myself get beat by them?" "Tell me," somebody sitting in the corner of the bar said, "what did these 'furry freaks' look like?" The wolvark sneezed loudly, his cheeks and nose turning red. The effects of the alchohol were beginning to show. "Well, uh... I don't know." He muttered. "One was a tall fella with a cowboy hat and a bag full of live animals, the other was... a woman, I think, grey all over with a painted rifle..." "Hmm." The man muttered, draining his beer in one gulp. The wolvark was startled to see that the man was smoking four cigars at once, held together by a rubber band. "I think I can help you." "Yeah?" The wolvark asked dully, slouching drunkedly against the table. "How's that?" "I think I know who you're looking for." The man said. The wolvark sat up, his eyes wide. "Ya do?" He asked wearily. The man nodded. "Oh yeah, sure do." He said. "I just need to know where they last were." "Well, I was in Buzzarton... no, wait... New Yolk, yeah, that was it." The wolvark muttered. The man shook his hand, but he hardly noticed. "What's yer name?" He asked. The wolvark scratched his head, thinking hard. "Bo Bedagger. Yours?" He finally said. The man nodded and twirled his cigars, smiling evily. "Willie Royalle," he said, exhaling a lungful of smoke into the bar. --- "Are we there yet?" Mola groaned, kicking a rock as he walked along. It skidded down the rocky path, scaring off a group of birds. "Does it look like we're there?" Stranger asked, crossing his arms. Mola blinked furiously. "No." He said. "So do you think we're there?" Stranger growled. Mola shook his head. "Uh, no." Stranger didn't answer. Mola looked confused, but didn't dwell on his question. "Why were you wandering around the Mongo Wilds?" Charlotte asked as they continued down the winding canyon. Cyren snorted. "S'not important." He muttered. Charlotte sighed loudly. "It is important," She insisted. "We have a townful of headhunters after us. It would help if we had some information-" "Its not important!" Cyren snarled. His sudden outburst made Charlotte jump. "Okay!" She hissed. "Odd, you don't have to be such a jerk about it." Charlotte suddently restented saying that. Cyren's nostrils flared and he lowered his head, as if preparing to charge. "Whoa!" Charlotte yelped. "Uh, don't freak out or anything, okay?" Cyren slowly relaxed, with a look on his face that translated into 'what did I do wrong?' Charlotte, however, remained tense, as though expecting him to burst at any second. "We're almost there!" Mola laughed, running up a path at the side of the cliff. "Wanna go the fun way?" Stranger grunted. "I don't think I'll like your 'fun way'." He muttered. But they followed anyway. Mola skipped along the top of the canyon, grinning exitedly. The light started fading over the cliffs in the distance, painting the sky violet and blood red. The dusty limestone cliffs glowed faintly as the final rays of light struck their pale grey sides, leaving their mark in the steadily growing shadows. Crickets chirped loudly, and somewhere in the distance a bird cawed. Mola slowly shrank in the distance as he skipped along. "What is he doing?" Charlotte asked herself, watching from a distance as Mola broke into a run. Stranger scanned the horizon, his hand over his eyes. "I dunno," he said. Charlotte sighed. "It looks like he's going to... MOLA!" She screamed as Mola suddently vanished over the edge of the cliff. The three steef took off running, horror shining in their eyes. Odd, odd odd... Charlotte thought angrily. Why the hell can't he just sit still?! They skidded to a hault as they came to the edge of the cliff. Charlotte shuddered violently, preparing to look over the edge at Mola's little, shattered body... Shimmering in the evening light, about twenty yards down, was the wetland, abundant with sounds of life. A large foamy ring faded away where Mola had dived. He was floating on his back, grinning up at them. "The water's great!" Mola shouted, failing to notice the immense anger building on the steef's faces. Charlotte stamped her foot, her fists clenched so tightly together that her arms shook. "MOLA! Imma fvcking kill you!" She screamed, jumping in after him. For a moment she hung suspended in the air, stairing down at the water. She dropped like a rock and hit the water with a loud slap, causing Mola to flinch. "Spare me!" He cried, backstroaking away as fast as he could. "I know not of what I do!" She ran after him (the water was up to her neck), bristling with anger. Cyren leapt off the cliff with a triumphant roar, creating a gargantuain splash. Stranger searched the edge of the cliff for a way to climb down, but when he found none he shrugged and sprang forward. By the time they reached the fortress it was dark. They entered the camp and were greeted by a deafaning roar as the grubbs cheered, glad to see their mission was a success. Mola grinned and waved, absorbing the attention like a sponge. Cyren stood motionless, his eyes slowly searching the crowd for enemies. Ophelia pulled on Stranger's hand. "Come," she said quietly. Her eyes were wide, but she wasn't smiling. In fact, she looked upset. "I'm afraid I have bad news." |
8O Eh oh, bad news, now I'm nosey and you has to update. I've noticed you change the spelling of Cyren to Ciren a couple of times, then again I is a grammar nazi, sooo...Continue 8D!
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I am scared on what the bad news is. Maybe one of the elders died or was kidnapped.
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I'll change it all to 'Cyren', I think it sounds better. C: |
Chapter 21
"So what's wrong?" Stranger asked as Ophelia lead the four through the temple. She lead them down a long path under a steef guardian statue, her eyes wide with worry and her legs stiff.
"Bad things!" She exclaimed, waving her hands in the air. "Bad omens, bad atmosphere!" "Ophelia!" Charlotte said, grabbing the grubb's sholders. "Get ahold of yourself. What's wrong?" Ophelia turned on her heel. "Bad omens," she repeated. "What bad omens?" Charlotte asked. Ophelia shook her head and kept walking down the path. They eventually came to a large chamber built to the side of the temple. It was a tall dome-shape, and was intricately carved with winding, wave-like patterns that were painted over in a pale blue-green, perfectly matching the color of the wetland outside. In the middle of the chamber were four of the grubb seers, sitting in a circle. There heads were bowed and their eyes were closed. They must be predicting something, Charlotte thought, but where's the fifth one? She spotted him, sitting behind the other elders. A blanket was draped over his sholders and his eyes were red, as though he'd been crying. He pulled the blanket over his head and sniffled loudly, his body shivering. Niether Charlotte or Stranger had ever seen an elder act so sad. Cyren didn't understand why the grubbs were so important, but he kept silent, as though he knew something was wrong. Ophelia sighed loudly. "Ever since you left, our elders have had horrible predictions. Fire, war, death... but now they can't predict anything." "Really?" Mola whispered, awestruck. "They can't predict anything?" "No," Minnow said sadly, breaking his trance. "No matter how hard we try, it just doesn't work." Mola pulled a coin from his pocket. "Heads or tails?" He asked. Minnow blinked. "Uh, heads." He said. Mola tossed the coin in the air. It bounced off the floor and started rolling across the room. "Wait!" Mola cried, chasing after it. He stepped on the coin and looked down on it. "Tails." He muttered. Minnow wimpered and ducked his head. "Its terrible." He whispered, closing his eyes. "Whats wrong with him?" Stranger asked, motioning towards where Reed hid under his blanket. "Well," Ophelia began, "he wasn't having any problems with predicting, but this morning when he woke up he started screaming... it took hours to shut him up. When he stopped screaming he started yelling at us about some plague or something, then he screamed in ancient grubbscript and fainted." "Grubbscript?" Charlotte asked. "Why don't you just translate it?" "I don't know grubbscript," Ophelia said. "Only elders do." There was a short pause. Stranger scratched his head. "Whats so bad about that?" He asked. "Because," Ophelia whispered, "Reed's acted this way before. Only once." "When?" Charlotte asked. "Just a week before our water was stolen by Sekto." She let these words sink in. Reed poked his head out of his blanket, his bottom lip trembling. "This... could be a problem." Charlotte muttered. She knelt down by Reed and placed a reassuring hand on his sholder, looking concerned. "Reed?" she whispered. "Are you feeling better?" His only reply was to duck his head back under his blanket. Charlotte sighed and turned to Ophelia. "You said he was yelling at you?" She asked. Ophelia nodded. "About what?" Ophelia shrugged. "I don't know. He mentioned a terrible plague of some sort, 'nothing like the draught', I think he said. I didn't really get it." Stranger sighed and sat down on a bench by one of the walls. "I think the draught he talked about was when Sekto took the water, but I don't know anything about a plague." "Is there any way we could translate what he said in grubbscript?" Mola asked. Ophelia shook her head. "Not that I can think of..." Cyren's ears flicked upward. "Maybe there is way," he said. Ophelia looked startled, partially because he could speak, and partially because he sounded like he knew what he was talking about. "How?" "Well..." He asked, "Don't all grubb villages have a book they read for this sort of thing? Like guidelines?" Ophelia snapped her fingers. "Thats it! Why didn't I think of it before? The Book of Ancients! You're a genius, how did you know we had one?" "S'not important," Cyren grunted. Ophelia grinned. "All we have to do is find it!" She said. Stranger blinked. "You lost it?" He asked wearily. Ophelia scratched her head. "Not exactly..." she said. "So where is it?" Charlotte asked. "I don't know." There was a pause. "That would be lost," Mola said dully. Ophelia cuffed him on the back of his head. "We know where we lost it, but we don't know where it went." She explained. Charlotte stood up. "Okay, so where is it?" She asked. Ophelia looked twice as worried as before. She twittled her fingers, looking nervous. "This way," she muttered, motioning for them to follow. "I'll show you where it is, but you won't like it." |
8) Cyren is an awesome spelling. And this can kinda remind me of my own fickles. Sooo...Bad things will happen later, I thought someone had died or something 8O. Carry on, I'm guessing the book is in an awful crowded or dangerous place and Cyren is hiding things 8)? That's exactly what Zandoba does, hide things 8O!
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Ok the bad thing wasn't as bad as it seemed. I thought Reed had died maybe.
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Chapter 22
The temple cellar was cool and damp. Their only light in the inky darkness was a torch clasped in Ophelia's hand, with illuminated the numerous jars and barrels with an eerie flickering glow.
"The cellar?" Stranger asked, raising an eyebrow. Ophelia shook her head. "Not quite," she said. She handed the torch to Charlotte and searched the waterstained shelves, pushing jars aside with gentle clangs. "Okay, so," Ophelia began, "I didn't mention this, but we built this temple on the foundation of an older temple, called Tvunkiar in anchient grubbscript. It translates literally into 'Deadly Catacombs', and with good reason." Ophelia pulled a small red bag from the shelf with a grunt of satisfaction. Shifting more jars aside she revealed more bags, and she handed one to everybody. Charlotte stuck her hand inside the bag and pulled out its contents. "A chisel and hammer?" She muttered, turning it over on her palm. "What do we do with these?" "I'll show you." Ophelia said. "Just stop talking and follow me." She lead them down the narrow path inbetween shelves, her feet making a gentle clap as they hit the cold stone floor. Minutes passed, and they were still walking. This place is huge! Charlotte thought, awestruck. Just how much food do they need to store down here, anyway? They eventually came to the cellar's heart; a square several feet across, with a tall limestone pillar at each corner. The square's floor was made of thick stone tiles, and as they passed over it Charlotte thought she heard a creaking noise. "Here!" Ophelia announced, stamping her foot on the floor. "Help me remove some of these tiles, please." She knelt down and placed the chisel inbetween two of the tiles. She hit it gently with her hammer, removing the mud that held it together. She wiggled the tile until it loosened and came free, and set it aside. It took less time than Charlotte thought it would, but they successfully removed a large portion of the tiles. Under the tiles were thick planks of damp wood, turned a musty black from hiding in the dark. Ophelia tapped one of them with her hammer, slowly loosening the wood. It dangled hazardously for a moment, suspended only by the mud frame around it, before breaking free and plummeting into the void below. It tumbled and turned until it was out of sight. They didn't hear it hit the bottom. "What's that?" Cyren asked, peering inside. All they could see was darkness; the torchlight revealed nothing. "Those," Ophelia said proudly, "are the anchient catacombs, created by our ancestors." "Why are they there?" Charlotte asked, putting her hands on her hips. Ophelia shrugged. "Nobody knows. Some people believe it was created to contain something, something that we could never handle. Others think that our ancestors never made it- that something evil created it, and they built the temple over it to drain its power. Many grubbs say its evil, and sometimes if you're really quiet you can hear voices of grubbs and steef long dead talking down there," she added ominously. Her voice hung in the air, ringing off the shelves before vanishing into the blackness. Mola shuddered. "I'm not going in there," he declared. Ophelia sighed. "I wouldin't trust you down there anyway. Thats why Stranger and Charlotte will instead!" She turned to them hopefully. Stranger blinked. "Are you sure you lost that book down there?" He asked wearily. "Thats where we dropped it." "Fine." Charlotte gave in. "We'll go down there." Ophelia beamed. "Good! You and Stranger just need to go down there. The catacombs aren't as big as they look; if you don't find anything, then it means the water washed it away." Stranger scratched his head. "Water?" He asked. Ophelia bit her lip. "I forgot to mention, but a river that leads into the wetlands runs down there. The book could've landed on a plank of wood or a rock down there; its really messy. If not, then just climb back up." She produced two thick ropes from a nearby shelf; they were long and flexible, perfect for grappling down the sides of caves. She tied them around two of the pillars nearby with an intricate knot, and handed them each an end. "Cyren will lower one of you down, me and Mola will lower the other. Just tug the line when you hit the bottom, but if something eats you, tug it twice." She beamed. Charlotte could tell by the faint edge to her voice that she was only partially joking. Charlotte and Stranger tied the roped around their waists, looking anxious. Ophelia lit a lantern with a match and handed it to Stranger, who looped it around his belt. "Be careful," she cautioned. Charlotte decided to go first. She stared into the inky void, sniffled loudly, and lowered herself down the small shaft, eyes cold. |
Charlotte: Okay...Watch your step.
Stranger: Right... Sekto: HAI GAIZ I AM NEKKED! Stranger: ( Screams with Charlotte ) :pEh. They can't find anything worse than a nekked arch nemesis squid. I wanna see what kinda boogeymans are down the celelr:D, good work 8D. |
Chapter 23
xDD
Mola: Hey guys, whats up--- OH SWEET JEZUZ!! Shield your eyes, children! :O!! --- "Do you know where your goin?" Bo Bedagger asked, scratching his head. He walked next to Willie, who was calmly surveying the wetland stretched out beside them. Behind them trailed four dozen outlaws, member's of Willie's gang. WIllie had successfully taken his father's place as boss, and was showing signs of being twice as harsh as Buckner had been. "Of course I do," Willie muttered. He stood on the bank of the wetland, looking out into the water. He remained there patiently, twirling his cigars. Bo yawned. "I dun see anything," he muttered dully. The water rippled slightly, Willie chuckled, and a huge head supported by broad, muscular sholders emerged from the water, its jaws snapping shut as it caught sight of the group. "Chuggler!" Bo shrieked, jumping back and falling into the gravel. The chuggler eyed Bo, looking annoyed. "Will-ee." A grumble sounded from its barrel chest, its small milky eyes shifting over to the outlaw leader. Willie nodded. "Tha's me." Willie said. The chuggler grunted loudly as it ducked to inhale a fresh lungful of water. It reamerged and waddled akwardly onto land, causing the outlaws on the shore to back up in suprise. "Wee will folloh," the chuggler gurgled, spewing water from its mouth. Willie blinked. "Good," He said. "Attack when we attack... and be careful with the steef heads." The chuggler coughed in reply and jumped backwards into the water with a huge splash, swiftly vanishing into the depths. Bo picked himself up off the ground. Looking startled. "That thing... is with us?" he asked shakily. "Those things," Willie corrected, "are with us. I heard one of their younger members whus killed by a couple o' people matchin' our target's description. They want revenge, we want steef heads. Its a win-win situation. For us, at least." He motioned for his gang to follow. "Come on! We gotsum steef ta hunt!" --- For a few brief moments Charlotte hung blind in the void, her green eyes shifting worriedly and her hands tightly around the rope lowering her down. A faint glow appeared overhead as Stranger was lowered down as well, holding the rope the same way. Ophelia poked her head inside, her large eyes glowing in the lantern light. "Okay, so, just tell us when you hit the bottom." "And tell us if you find any bodies!" Mola suggested. Stranger snorted loudly, muttering something about turning Mola into a body. "This isn't so bad," Charlotte said to reassure herself. She stared down into the blackness below, where a faint dripping sound could be heard. They were steadily lowered down the pit, and soon the light from the hole above vanished. Charlotte thought she saw something moving in the darkness. Startled, she reached at her hip for her rifle, but was relieved to see that she wasn't in danger. All around her, wooden planks holding the walls together began to materialize from the darkness, groaning sickly as water dripped from its sides. As she looked down she realised that the wood had been placed in a specific order, forming an eight-sided star. It was creepy and wet, but all the more admirable; it truly was an amazing piece of architecture. They lost track of time; seconds turned to minutes, minutes piled up. After about a half-hour, Charlotte squinted in the darkness; something was rapidly approaching them. She stiffened visibly, her nostrils flared. "D'you see that?" She asked, looking up at Stranger. Stranger stared down at it, an eyebrow raised. "That would be the floor." He growled. Charlotte looked down. The lantern light reflected the water-washed floor below, causing it to glitter. Embarassed, she looked the other way. "Of course it is." She snapped. Stranger chuckled dryly. Charlotte's feet gently hit the bottom, and she looked relieved to be out of the air. The water was up to her calves and as cold as ice, causing her to flinch. "My boots are soaked," she grumbled, lifting a leg (or legs) into the air. Stranger un-looped the lantern from his belt and looked around. Suprised, he said, "Look at this." Charlotte looked over and gasped. Huge, stonehenge-like pillars made of bleached-white marble surrounded them, holding up a layer of support beams. Carved into the stones were ancient petroglyphs that glinted black in the light. Half of them depicted grubbs fishing and doing daily activities, the other half depicted both grubbs and steef in huge armies fighting off vicious-looking beasts, including a spyider, which was having its head torn off. Charlotte ran her fingers down the steef carvings, and felt a sick pit form at the bottom of her stomach. There are so many steef... she thought. How long ago were these made? Will there ever be as many steef again? "Best' get searching," Stranger muttered, turning away. Charlotte wondered if he was thinking the same thing she was. They searched the large white rocks and piles of wood scattered all around, speaking rarely. The ghostly-white stone shimmered silently, basking in the dim light. The only sounds in the darkness was the trickling water and the beating of their own hearts. Charlotte curiously lifted her head and glanced into the darkness; there were no walls holding them in. The cavern seemed to stretch on forever. She briefly wondered if anything could live down here undetected, but she quickly banished it. There was nothing to eat down here. Satisfied, she hopped over a large rock and caught sight of something up ahead. "Hey!" Charlotte said, lifting a large object perched on a slab of stone. "I think I found it!" Stranger trudged over and examined it. "Must be," he said, tugging on the corner of his hat. The book was dark brown and had red lettering that she couldin't identify. It was as thick as three phonebooks and as large as her torso. "This things' huge," she said bitterly. The thought of having to hold it all the way back to the cellar made her head pound. She grabbed the rope at her side and tugged it a few times. Stranger did the same. After a long pause she felt somebody tug back, and they were both lifted back up through the void. The book gave Charlotte unwanted weight, and the rope strained around her waist, digging into her skin. She bit her lip angrily and tried to adjust the rope, but it didn't work. Light filtered down from above. Even though it was dim, it was bright in comparison to the lantern, and it hurt her eyes. She closed her eyes and held the book tight against her body, staring up at the glow, until they finally emerged. "You found it!" Ophelia cheered. Around them were twenty grubbs, including Mola, who had helped pull them back up. They clapped happily. "What was it like down there?" Mola asked exitedly. "Was the rumor about the ghost that lived down there true?" "I didn't see any ghosts," Charlotte said, heavily dropping the book. It landed with a loud thump, causing dust to fall from its pages. Five grubbs lifted it, but they looked as though they were about to topple over. Mola wilted sadly. "No ghosts? What about banchees?" "Oh yeah, there was a banchee." Charlotte said, as though it were painfully obvious. Mola jumped in suprise. "Really! What did it do?" "It gave me a piggy-back ride," Stranger growled, untying the rope from his waist. "Oh," Mola said, wilting again. "No banchees, huh? What about-" "Come on!" Ophelia said, cutting him off. "Lets take this up to the archives!" She skipped happily ahead of a group of grubbs struggling to carry it. Stranger, Cyren and Charlotte followed, leaving the ancient catacombs behind. |
Awwww, no nekked people 8(? Still awesome, there wa no beasties down there but it is still wet and winful, your typing wins 8). Carry on the writings and the maaaagic book :D.
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You know that book sounds a bit like something from a film. Nice job and continue please.
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Chapter 24
Charlotte had forgotten what time it was until she had stepped outside of the temple. The sky was dark blue and bright with silvery, shimmering stars. Torches outside had been lit, dimly illuminating the fortress.
The five grubbs carrying the book staggered uncoordinately up the spiral staircase at the back of the temple, occasionally losing their footing as Ophelia lead them along. "You can all go back to your huts," she had said. "I'll try to find the grubbscript translations in the morning." Charlotte had welcomed this. She pushed open the door to her hut and flopped down on her bed with a loud yawn. With tired eyes she removed the ammo from her rifle, just for safety. Poof! A large cloud of gunpowder shot out of the back of her weapon, powdering Charlotte's face black. She coughed and dropped her rifle, eyes blinking furiously as she struggled to remove the dust. "Nasty," she muttered to herself, leaving her hut to wash off the gunpowder in the wetland. She passed a tall hut, and stopped suddently. The door was slightly open, and the lights were on. A scuffling sound could be heard inside. Curious, she slowly opened the door and peeked inside. Cyren was inside. Oh, Charlotte thought. Its just Cyren. I thought somebody was being robbed. She began closing the door, but something made her stop. Cyren took off his shirt to change into a different one. She gasped. Inbetween his sholderblades was a wide, roughly round mark that was a sickly pinkish-grey and stuck out a half-inch from his skin. It was shaped like a ring with a pine tree in the center. It had words under it, but they were so small that she couldin't tell what they said. It looked like it had been burned in. No, she thought. Branded... "Cyren?" She said quietly. Cyren swung around, looking startled, and bolted to the door. He slammed it shut with a threataning growl. Charlotte stood at the door, looking confused, before turning on her heel and walked back to her hut, deep in thought. She'd obviously seen too much. But too much of what? --- Morning had come. Stranger opened an eyelid, staring up at the light pouring through his window. He groaned and rolled over, nuzzling his pillow, and sighed contently. "Stranger! Strangeeerr!" "Damn it, Mola!" He cursed, sitting up. He groggily rubbed his forehead with the palm of his hand, his eyelids barely open. "Stranger! Get out here! Now!" Mola said urgently from outside his hut. Stranger stood up, stretched, and called back. "What do you want?" "Come on! Hurry!" Mola's furious little fists started drumming against his door. Stranger cracked his knuckles and started getting dressed, muttering angrily under his breath. Thumpthumpthumpthump-BLAM! Mola's fast-paced knocking was extinguished by the sound of gunfire. Stranger kicked open the door, his arm out and his bow loaded. Mola jumped around, his eyes wide. "Outlaws!" He yelped. "At the gate! They keep yelling, 'hand over the steef!' They won't stop-" Stranger ran to the gate as fast as he could, his bow still loaded. Charlotte, Cyren, Ophelia, and twenty grubbs were already there, baring their teeth as the outlaws pointed. There were about sixty outlaws swarming the bank of the wetland, their weapons loaded. More than half of them were nailers, which would make fighting them off a challenge. Stranger stiffened as he caught sight of both Willie Royalle and Bo Bedagger, heavily armed with dangerous firepower. "What the hell are those two doing here?" Charlotte snarled, her fists closing dangerously around her rifle. "And how did they find us?" "Well he-llo, Charlotte!" Willie said, sounding pleasant whilst loading his rocket launcher. "Long time no see, eh?" Willie caught sight of Stranger, and a smile curled over his yellow teeth. "Well, well! You're here too? Ah, its all right. Three heads are better than two..." Charlotte rounded on Stranger and cocked her rifle. "They know you're a steef? How?" She demanded, her eyebrows furrowing. Stranger adjusted his hat, his eyes betraying only the slightest guilt. "Well, uh," he muttered, "when I was goin' after Buckner..." Charlotte nodded, still looking angry. "...my shoe kinda... fell off." There was a pause. Charlotte slapped her forehead. "You're an idiot." She growled. Stranger sighed. "Thas' why I showed up here in the middle of the night. I didn't want any of Buckner's boys t'see me." "Why didn't you say something?" Ophelia hissed, slapping him. "You jerk!" "Ahem!" Willie interrupted, his eyes cold. "If you hand over the steef, I won't blow this place to bits. Nice 'n' simple." Mola, who had finally caught up, crossed his arms. "What? With just a rocket launcher?" He snapped. Willie shook his head. "Aw, no, you little cockroach. But it'll be destroyed, one way or another." Willie snapped his fingers. There was a pause. Then, on cue, eight large shapes along the fortress rose up from the water, covered in thick leather armor and armed to the teeth. They tilted back their heads in unison and gave a sputtering roar, their beady eyes swiveling in their sockets. "C-chugglers!" Mola cried, ducking under Stranger's poncho. Stranger pushed him aside. The chugglers grunted as they hobbled up on land, their frilled gills folded tightly over their necks. Willie grinned. "We'll give you ten minutes to decide. If you don't... well, you'd best hurry up, heh." The gates snapped shut abruptly. Ophelia started running towards the center of the fortress. "Come on! We need a plan!" She said, hurrying along. Grubbs began emerging from buildings all along, wearing their last-legs armor and armed with spears. A grubb with a cloth mask over his face smoothed down a large map of the fortress and the area five miles away from it. Ophelia motioned for the three steef to approach, then slid on her own mask, which was cherry red. "Okay, so," she said, pulling out a red marker. "We need some tactics. We need to come up with a foolproof plan that'll destroy the eight chugglers before they destroy us. Questions?" No reply came. She nodded, satisfied. "Right. Any suggestions?" "We could try to take them out with arrows," a grubb archer suggested. "We could climb up on the walltops." Ophelia shook her head; Stranger was suprised at how tactical she was. "No. There's no armor up there, you'll all die. Other suggestions?" "We could--" "Mola," Ophelia interrupted, "don't answer." "But I have a plan!" He whined, pushing his way through the crowd. "Does it involve rabid fish, like your last plan? Cuz' fish can't get rabies, Mola--" "No," Mola grinned. "It doesn't. What if we used the old clakker mines down the bank? We could blow em' up while they're inside!" "How will they get inside?" Charlotte asked dully, crossing her arms. Mola blinked. "Uh, uh... a decoy, maybe?" Ophelia looked surprised. She slapped Mola hardily on the back, a smile forming under her mask. "Thats brilliant! The mines are perfect." She said, pointing to a thin line less than a half a mile away from the fortress on the map. "All we need is a decoy. They'll have to be distracting enough to be seen, a nusiance enough to be chased, and quick enough to leave the mine before it explodes." Silence followed. Eventually Stranger patted Mola on the head. "Why not have Mola do it? He's exactly what we need, and he thought of the plan." "What? No!" Mola cried, jumping back. "What if I mess up? What if I explode?" "You won't explode," Charlotte chuckled, a slightly nervous edge to her voice. "You're too fast for that." "C'mon, Mola!" Ophelia said. "Its a good cause! To save our village, our home--" "Okay!" Mola yelled, stamping his foot. "I'll do it. Then what? I can't lure them all inside." "We'll take out the rest," Ophelia said. She turned to her fellow grubbs. "Grubbs!" She said. "Here's what we have to do. Okay, so you ten over there, go down to the cellar and get some explosives." "Okay!" The grubbs said. "You keep explosives in the cellar?" Charlotte asked, but was cut off. "Archers, go on the ramparts. Light a fire in a trashcan or something for fire arrows. Everyone with spears will stay here and get ready to fight!" The grubbs cheered back in one huge, deafaning cheer. "Last Legs Two!" They replied, saluting. They hurried off to do as they were told. "I hope we're ready," Ophelia sighed to herself. She sat down and started sharpening her own spear. |
Yay! And then they fight and people get hurt and!...Cyren...Has...Burn o.O...Perhaps he is a slave or traitor for someone or food 8D.
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Grubbs have TNT? Good chapter. And again Mola is in danger.
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Liek, what happened 8O? It was all good and then it stopped and...I had a dream about Jennadelle but I forgot it 8(.
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Chapter 25
Sorry for the wait. :fuzsad: I've had more important things to do besides writing fanfiction. Sob. ;.;
Anyway, the beginning of this (in italics) is a flashback-type thing. I'll try to put one before each chapter until the memory is done. :D Btw, i'm pretty sure a young male steef would be called a stag, but i'm not sure. :D ---Chapter 25--- The air was cool and damp up in the Wampus Mountain Chain. The mountains were always cold, steamy and dark here; sunlight rarely penetrated the thick clouds and even thicker pine needle leaves. A large group of steef sat around a fire as the evening drew to a close. They were seperated from the rest of the village by a thick belt of fir trees; they were students with their teacher, four years into their training to become steef Guardians. Their teacher was engaged in an important lecture on how to avoid steef hunters, which none of the students were actually paying attention to. Their teacher was an old, grizzled male by the name of Shandock. He had wiry, greying fur and hard silver eyes. His assistant was a short, chubby female steef named Siba who had an exessive-compulsive desire to keep everything perfect all the time. "Now if they catch you," Shandock continued, making motions with his hands for added emphasis, "Don't struggle. Wait until they think you've given up, then run. Don't fight, run! If they catch you they'll-" "We know!" A rebellious young stag from across the fire yawned. "They'll chop off our heads and stick em' on a wall, we've heard it before." Shandock stiffened visibly, his eyes blazing with hate. "Oh, you've heard it before, have you?" He snapped, standing up. Siba looked startled. "Shandock, its not a good idea to-" "Quiet!" He snarled, rounding on his assistant. She looked shocked and hurt. "They need to know this." He paced around the fire, slowly approaching his students. "So they'll cut off your head. But do you know what they do with the rest of you? Do you?!" He reared up on his hind legs and kicked the ground, sending dirt flying in all directions. His students jumped back, startled by his sudden outburst. "They'll skin you and make your fur into rugs. They'll chop up your liver and make it into canned soup! They'll take your left over skin and make it into steef jerky... "Shandock, stop!" Siba demanded. Shandock, however, didn't stop. "They'll grind up your hooves and make them into glue. They'll take your bones and polish them into ivory for spoon handles and expensive figurines. And if you're extra lucky they'll boil your fat and make it into candle wax! Do you want that? Do you?!" "SHANDOCK!" Siba roared, standing up. She no longer looked fat and innocent; she looked bulky and threataning, 200 pounds of muscle and bone. "There's no need to fill their head with this... this... nonsense!" They didn't know it, but somebody else had heard their conversation; a young, darkly furred little fellow with bright amber eyes. He backed away in horror, trembling at what he had just heard. He bumped into something behind him, swung around, and screamed. "Cyren!" A voice boomed, grabbing him in a headlock. He wailed in horror as the steef dove her knuckles into his head, giving him a noogie. "Asio! Stop it!" He cried. The steef around the fire saw him and laughed at his foolishness. "What were you doing here?" The steef demanded, dropping him. He stared up at her, his eyes full of fear. She was tall and heavily muscled, and looked as though she would've been beautiful if it weren't for her tough, bulky body. Her russet-brown hair was cut to a boyish length, and she had a crystal stud piercing on her bottom lip. She was one of Shandock's former students, and one of the handful of female steef he had trained. "Well?" Cyren sniffled. "I was just exploring. Really!" Asio grabbed him by the sholder and pulled him up. "You shouldn't listen in on their conversation. And besides, you shouldin't be up this late. Mom'll kill you if she finds out you were here by yourself." "Dont' tell her, Asio!" He pleaded. "I won't do it again." Asio scooped him up easily and placed him on her sholder. "I won't tell her. But if she asks where you were, you have to tell her." She bolted into the forest with long, easy strides. Cyren watched the trees flash by as she ran, melting into one massive, dark blur. "Is what Shandock said true?" Cyren asked. "Do they make us into glue sometimes?" Asio sighed and skidded to a hault as she caught sight of the village up ahead. "Its not important," She said, setting him down and ruffling his fur. The phrase 'its not important' was commonly used in their family, and pretty much meant 'I don't want to explain because you won't like what you'll hear.' "Now get back to the village. I have to return to the lesson." She smiled down at him in a sisterly manner before vanishing back into the forest. Cyren walked back to his family's hut, contemplating what he had heard. ----- Willie tapped his foot impatently, surveying his gang. Half of them were sitting, exhausted from standing in the summer sun. The other half were eagerly loading their weapons and talking about what they would do with their share of the money from the steef heads. Bo had been little help; he always complained, was lost easily, and was terrified of the chugglers leisurely drifting by the wetland shore. Willie would have to kill him later to ensure he got most the loot. He checked his watch. "Time's up!" He roared at the fortress. "Hand over the steef or we'll get them ourselves! We don't show mercy and we don't take prisoners!" A grubb's head quickly appeared over the walltops. It called down at them: "Okay! We're coming out now! Don't shoot!" Willie chuckled; hell, this was easier than he thought it would be! "Just give us another minute or two... please." The grubb finished. Willie shrugged. "Hurry up, then! I'm losin' my patience." ----- Mola looked down at the cloth bag held limply in his hand. It thrashed wildly as its contents struggled to escape, causing Mola to flinch. "Do I have to?" Mola asked pleadingly, staring up at Charlotte with wide, blue eyes. Charlotte nodded. "Stop complaining. It could be worse... you could have to... erm..." Her voice trailed off as she realised that it was impossible for Mola to be in any more danger than he already was. Mola wimpered, his bottom lip twitching. Charlotte grabbed his head and turned him around. "Stop staring at me like that!" She demanded. "There's nothing I can do! Besides, you're not being cute, you're being creepy." "Okay!" Ophelia said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "They don't suspect anything. Go now!" Mola groaned loudly, tied the bag around his waist for safe keeping, and ran towards the wall. He crawled through a small hole in its corner and vanished into the small forest by the side of the wetland. Ophelia clambored up onto the walltops and poked her head over the wall. "One more moment," She said cheerily, ducking down before they could reply, She motioned for her grubbs to come. The grubbs stood in a tight arrow formation behind the gate, their eyes wide and their sholder's tense. Charlotte loaded her rifle and sighed. "Hurry up, Mola!" She muttered angrily to herself. Minutes passed. Willie was becoming more and more agitated, pacing back and forth like a caged lion. Charlotte could tell that he needed all the self-control in his body to keep from destroying the fortress right there and then. Finally Charlotte spotted a small shape running towards the group of outlaws as fast as it could. She sighed when she realised it was Mola. Mola skidded to a hault about twenty yards from the outlaws. They turned and started at him, looking confused, but not worried. One lone grubb wasn't a threat to them. Mola waved frantically at Charlotte (who waved half-heartedly back) and untied the bag from around his waist. He threw it, but it fell short of his target. Grumbing angrily, Mola ran over, picked up the bag, threw it again, and took off in the opposite direction. A curious outlaw Nailer stepped up to the bag and kicked it. It flip-flopped over itself and rattled noisily to a hault. The nailer shrugged, bent down, and tore open the bag, chuckling to himself about how ridiculous grubbs could be. His critisism soon gave way to steady screams as a horde of angry stingbees filled the air, enraged from being kicked around in a bag. They swarmed the banks of the river, attacking everything they could sink their stingers into. Outlaws ran around, roaring in terror as the onslaught continued. Two of them collapsed in the dirt, dead and covered in large red welts. Others fainted from loss of blood and swollen wounds all over their bodies. "Get that grubb!" Somebody roared. Half the gang took off after Mola, who was screaming and flailing his arms as though he were on fire. "Its just a buncha stingbees!" Willie roared, knocking an outlaw flat with his rocket launcher. "Stop bein' such babies!" As if on cue a stingbee shot forward and dug its stinger in his foot, causing him to yelp. "Ouch! Dammit!" He cursed. "That it, grubbs! I'm blowin' this place to da ground! You had your chance!" He turned to his crew. Half of them were gone, still chasing Mola, who had long since vanished into the abandoned Clakker mines. Willie roared death threats and a much longer string of profanity as they followed Mola away. |
:DYaaay! Yah, life gets in the way of fanfic:sadfuz:...¬¬Silly lief, well flashbacks and fat people are fun <3, sooo...Cyren used to live with other steef, then something happened, and then Mola unleashed stingbees 8O, owch. Carry on in your own time <3.
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It's war! Yays! I thought it was real life issues that were keeping me waiting. But it was worth it even if I like to skim read most of it.
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Alright, so.
I'm sorry to say that I really don't think i'll be continuing this fic. I feel like i've screwed up most of my character's personalities, and I have a model for the story, but I don't think it really goes anywhere. Plus you two are the only people who have anything to say about it (I LOVE YOU BY THE WAY, YOU'RE MY HOMIES) and that makes me feel kind of emo. Okay, not really emo, but you know, a little depressed. I might continue, but it seems unlikely. Sorry for anyone who actually reads it. :C If you want I could just post a story outline thing here to say what I had planned for the story. BUT. I'm planning to write another fanfiction, one that i'll actually be inspired to write more often. I won't give many details right now cuz I don't know if it will work out, but it involve Abe, Munch, A fan mud and a kickass fan creature. C: So tell me what you think. I'd appriciate it. :D |
Oh nuuues 8O, some things: -
1) YOU DON'T DO A FANFICTION JUST SO PEOPLE SHALL READ IT, you do it because you liek it <3. If not, then...Well I dunno, it seems like all the fanfiction authors want the pageviews and comments, its supposed to be about enjoying it, not so much the pageviews 8(. 2) I don't think anyone there is screwed up, I mean you do a better Stranger than I do (I think my fanfic had him go beserk and emo xD). You could just have Charlotte mourn if you don't like her lack of mourniness or whatnot. 3) It tends to be the good fanfics that get ignored;), I guess the shorter ones just draw more attention o.O. 4) Well if you won't continue, I'd like to see an outline:). 5) See the problem is we get bored of one fanfic, leave it unfinished then do another. I've done that more times than I can count, but it should be a fun fic, I'd like to see fics by you because you have awesome writing skills <3. Well good luck with stuffs 8D. |
A few things I'd like to comment on Zozo's points.
1. It's true we don't make fanfics for just veiws. But it helps if they get them. That way it feels wanted. I do enjoy writing but it helps if people can stop by and say a few things. 2. Nothing here because nobody is screwed up. In fact they're nearly perfect. 3. What about The Despicable? 4. Me too! 5. I get to the brink of doing that on my fan fic. As hard as I try I keep think about starting something new. Same thing happens on any big projects that I do. I don't mean to be mean or that kind of thing. And as Zozo said: Good luck with stuffs. I'll miss this fan fic. |