Here is the next part of my fan fic, which has been titled The Marching Mudokons. If anyone finds any details which disagree with something in the games please let me know. I want this story to be as possible as.. uh, possible. I also want to remind you that any artists can illustrate this for me. I can send you better descriptions if you private message me.
And now, introducing... (drum roll)... Small Face!
Part Eight:
The mudokon native, known only as Small Face, crouched down underneath a large green fern and looked at the pack of paramites. The few beams of light which pierced the forest canopy did little to light up the clearing. Dew covered spooce shrubs reflected the small amount of light and added to the eerily peaceful scene. In a guick, yet surprisingly silent, motion he pulled his slingshot from his belt and put a smooth round stone in it. He pulled back, aimed and released. The rock shot forward and flew straight through the biggest 'mites head. Small Face focused his spooce and suddenly burst into light. Less than a second later he was in the midst of the pack which was just now realizing that one of its members was dead. He quickly nocked and fired his remaining two rocks and killed two more of the fleeing animals. Three rocks, three shots, three kills and enough meat to feed a mudokon for weeks. He picked up the dead animals and teleported back to the village.
Three year old Phil scanned the horizon. Suddenly a group of birds appeared out of literally nowhere and flew together. With a flash of light, a normal looking mudokon appeared. Well, normal looking other than the round fask mask he wore whenever on the hunt. It had been fashioned after the Bigface's, but it was much smaller to show respect to the wise shaman-of-all-shamans. Phil ran towards his older brother, eager to help him prepare their dinner.
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