CHARLOTTE'S REIN (A fanfictious fanfic)

[Oddey]

I am scared on what the bad news is. Maybe one of the elders died or was kidnapped.

[Moosh da Outlaw]

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!

Oh snap, I didn't even notice. o.o
I'll change it all to 'Cyren', I think it sounds better. C:

[Moosh da Outlaw]

"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."

[Zozo the Zrilufet]

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!

[Oddey]

Ok the bad thing wasn't as bad as it seemed. I thought Reed had died maybe.

[Moosh da Outlaw]

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.

[Zozo the Zrilufet]

Charlotte: Okay...Watch your step.

Stranger: Right...

Sekto: HAI GAIZ I AM NEKKED!

Stranger: ( Screams with Charlotte )

Eh. They can't find anything worse than a nekked arch nemesis squid. I wanna see what kinda boogeymans are down the celelr, good work 8D.

[Moosh da Outlaw]

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.

[Zozo the Zrilufet]

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 .

[Oddey]

You know that book sounds a bit like something from a film. Nice job and continue please.

[Moosh da Outlaw]

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.

[Zozo the Zrilufet]

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.

[Oddey]

Grubbs have TNT? Good chapter. And again Mola is in danger.

[Zozo the Zrilufet]

Liek, what happened 8O? It was all good and then it stopped and...I had a dream about Jennadelle but I forgot it 8(.

[Moosh da Outlaw]

Sorry for the wait. 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.
Btw, i'm pretty sure a young male steef would be called a stag, but i'm not sure.

---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.

[Zozo the Zrilufet]

Yaaay! 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.

[Oddey]

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.

[Moosh da Outlaw]

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.

[Zozo the Zrilufet]

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.

[Oddey]

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.

[Moosh da Outlaw]

Okay, so I'm 99.9% sure I won't be continuing this fic.
BUT WAIT! THERE'S MORE!
I have an idea for another fic that I just randomly came up with. I really like it, I think it'll work, so expect to see it in the fourms within a week or so. I just have some kinks and loose ends to tie up before I start it, ho hum.

[Moosh da Outlaw]

HELLO PEOPLES.
Okay, so here's the deal;
We are in fact moving to Amman, Jordon, a country in the middle east. Because Amman is all the way across the world I need to take a bunch of shots and tests and crap to make sure I don't catch rabies over there or whatever. Because of this i'll be taking a lot of time off of school to go to hospitals and whatnot, which means i'll be spending alot of my time doing absolutely nothing.
So, after alot of thinking (seriously, I thought about this for, like, two weeks now) and looking over this fic, I realised how much fun I had writing it, and I could seriously need more fun during this stressful time, and i'll have nothing to do, I thought, hey, why not continue this fic I abandoned two months ago? Its not too late to continue, right?
So if anyone is interested, i'll continue this fic exactly the way I had planned to be continued from the beginning, and I won't stop till its finished.
I understand writing two fics at once will be challenging, but I have plenty of time to waste (seriously, you have no idea how much time). So if I continue, will anybody read it?

[Wings of Fire]

Just as I've finally caught up with both of them? <3

[Moosh da Outlaw]

Yup. Sorry. xD

[Wings of Fire]

Sorry? the last thing you should be is sorry. I was mortified when I read you were finishing it. D=

[Zozo the Zrilufet]

YUS CONTINUE. It was fun, you need fun <3.

[Oddey]

When I saw that Zozo had posted here once again I though she was going to ask for the outline. But this is the last thing I expected. And I am amazed and also oh so very happy, happy, happy! I must read the next chapter although I may not read it thoroughly.

[Moosh da Outlaw]

Right-o. I suppose i'll just continue. Wee.
And I’ll be paragraphing now. I never realized how ugly my writing looked without it. xD


---Chapter 25---


Willie rounded on the fortress, his amber eyes blazing and his left eyelid twitching slightly.

"You bastards!" He roared. "Yer gonna regret that!"

The chugglers charged forward like stampeding elephants, slamming against the fortress. Charlotte flinched and jumped back as she heard the battlements creak and groan, expelling puffs of dust from between their cracks. She loaded her rifle hurriedly as the fortress gates swung open, revealing the half of the gang that had been smart enough to stay.

They clashed violently together, the air erupting in a frenzy of clinking shields and crackling firearms. Two grubbs fell under the onslaught of bullets, and four more darted forward, digging their spears into a chuggler's back and holding on desperately as the massive creature bucked and snarled. Charlotte knelt down and fired her rifle, dropping an outlaw mortar. It collapsed with the explosives on its back still lit, blowing up a number of its comrades who were standing unfortunately near. She jumped back as an outlaw nailer plowed through a row of grubbs, roaring. Suddenly Cyren reared up from the mass of fighting bodies and crushed it under a huge wooden object. Charlotte blinked, and suddenly she realized that the object was a giant hammer, made of dark, rock-hard oak.

Where did he get that? She wondered, firing and dropping a sniper who had crept up onto the battlements.

Stranger was having a hell of a time. He fired a bombbat at a chuggler's face, and its jaws snapped around it in confusion. By the time it realized that it had just swallowed an explosive, it had already bumped into another chuggler and erupted into flames, leaving it dead and the other wounded. With this task done, Stranger took to dismembering a group of outlaws with an barrage of thugslugs and stingbees, looking as though he were having a great time.
Charlotte caught sight of Willie, who was heading for the grubb temple at a rapid pace flanked by more than a dozen nailers. She lifted her rifle, took careful aim, pushed her finger against the trigger...

Something smashed her in the face, hard. She fell back and stared up at the biggest, ugliest chuggler she’d ever seen, and though she hadn’t seen many, she knew that this one had to be the worse. It had a huge, muscular, bear-like physique, and teeth as long as pencils. It threw itself at her, smothering her under its weight and gurgling “MURDERERRRRR!”

---

Willie slammed the temple door shut behind him, a smug grin growing wider and wider on his ugly face.

“You,” he said, pointing to four nailers, “guard the door. Kill anyone who tries t’break in; I don’t want any shit from anybody.” He turned to the rest of the group. “Everyone else, some with me; lets see what kinda loot we’s can find ‘round here.”

They marched through a tunnel under a nearby steef guardian statue, looking around curiously but paying no attention to the beauty that the temple held. The air was deathly still; it seemed that even the walls were tense. Eventually they came to a small chamber painted robin’s egg blue, with wavelike carvings in the walls. Willie frowned; the room was practically empty. He was about to turn and leave when all of the sudden an elderly grubb peeked around the corner of a small passage nearby, squinting short-sightedly and muttering “Minnow? Is that you?”

Willie’s lips curled in a foul, maleficent grin. “Not exactly.”

---

Charlotte gasped and fired her rifle, blasting a hole in the chuggler’s beefy stomach. Blood immediately splashed from its wound, soaking Charlotte’s torso. The chuggler reared up and howled “MURDEREEER! YOU KILLIE FRIEND! ME KILLIE YOU!”

“A little help, please!” Charlotte cried desperately, barrel-rolling to the side as the chuggler’s massive fist swung downwards, crushing a barrel. It bellowed with rage and slammed its entire body down, making the ground quake. Stranger sprang up to the battlements with catlike agility and fired a skunk. The little critter popped against the chuggler’s face, and it retched, eyes watering.

“Up here!” Stranger shouted, motioning for her to come. Charlotte climbed up onto the battlements just as the chuggler charged, shattering the stone like glass. The stone-and-wood structure collapsed, crunching the beast’s head like a grapefruit, and it gave one last death sputter before falling silent.

Charlotte surveyed the battle quickly; the grubbs were miraculously surviving and fighting like berserkers, slicing through outlaws with their spears and overpowering chugglers as though they had done it a hundred times before. The outlaws tripped over one another as they struggled to keep their ground, with little success.

“OPEN UP!” Ophelia demanded, rushing from the battlefield carnage and slamming her spearbutt against the temple’s wooden doors. The doors were thirty feet high and an entire foot thick; a mere spear wouldn’t break through. She looked back worriedly over her shoulder. “We can’t have outlaws in the temple!” She cried. Cyren ran over and slammed the door with a mighty blow from his hammer. The door groaned and cracked, but otherwise stood its ground. Cyren shrugged.
“This... could be a problem.” Ophelia whispered with a nervous laugh.


---

Willie broke down the door to the elder’s chamber and barged in, glancing around quickly. Grubb-sized beds were against the walls, and the four remaining grubb seers sat in a semicircle by a window, as still as stone. Slowly, they opened their eyes and watched the outlaws critically. Willie had Reed in a headlock and had stuffed a pillowcase in his mouth, serving as a gag. Reed whined pathetically and struggled to break free of his attacker, but to no success; he was but an elderly grubb, whilst Willie was a full-fledged killer.

“Surround them.” Willie ordered. The outlaw nailers behind him grunted as they filed inside the room, baring their rotted teeth menacingly. The four elders flinched away, but showed no signs of fear. Willie paced slowly around the room, examining the walls and the beds, as well as a few small chests in a corner. “Where could you little maggots be hidin’ your loot...” he muttered, grabbing Brook’s head and cranking it in his direction. She sneered at him. “...eh?”

“There is no loot,” she hissed, her voice thick with venom. “We have nothing that you overly-armed pigs would want.”

Willie chuckled and smacked her on the back of the head with the butt of his rocket launcher. She cried out and fell to the floor, struggling to stand. “Don’t play dumb,” Willie snarled as he continued pacing, “because I ain’t stupid.”

“Its true!” Cod blurted. “We have nothing! This is supposed to be a blessed place, not a treasure trove---”

“Idjits!” Willie roared, kicking him roughly. The nailers grinned and snickered at the sight of the defenseless grubb. “Who do you take me for? I could kill all you stupid little shits with one blast of this here’ rocket launcher! You best tell me where you keep your valuables!”
He tore the gag from Reed’s mouth and threw him over to the other grubb elders, sneering. “I’ma give you one chance to tell me wheres you keep your loot.” He snarled, leaning closer. “One... last... chance...”

“Behemoth demon!” Reed cried, flinging himself at Willie. Willie stiffened suddenly, startled; the grubb’s eyes were no longer brown. They were filmed over completely, like cataracts, and solid, ice blue. His voice was a ragged hiss as he grabbed Willie by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down, staring him straight in the eyes. “Death is a plague! A poison! It’s the intoxicatingly foul fathom that pierces through life’s animation like a machete! And it will get you too if you aren’t careful!”

“S-shut up!” Willie screamed, sounding thoroughly shaken. He stabbed Reed through the stomach with his rocket launcher’s bayonet, and Reed slumped against the weapon, eyes foggy and disoriented. Willie kicked the impaled grubb aside and backed away slowly, horror in his eyes. Something about the grubb’s words was so expected, and yet...
“B-bastards!” He snarled, fumbling with his rocket launcher. “I’ll kill all of you!”

[Oddey]

Wow! It's shocking how better paragraphing looks. I actually read the whole thing without missing anything. And you really do give good details because I could almost see what was happening.

[Zozo the Zrilufet]

Then all the grubbs die, the place explodes, Stranger is Charlotte's father, Sekto is her ma, Mola gets his bucket repossesed, Ophelia is a cheese and I like beans. Carry on.