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| Author | Topic: A Feegle's journey |
| MacAaroni |
posted 10/12/06 8:52 PM
The air is tranquil on the outskirts of Big Brother. The wind caresses the treetops, and birds sing in their branches. All is calm and serene. 'Argh, bloody rabbit 'oles!' The tranquility is shattered as a Feegle tumbles to the ground yet again. Perhaps it was the bright sunlight, perhaps it was the alcohol, MacAaroni wasn't sure, but the third rabbithole had pissed him off thouroughly. Now he was on the fifth, and rather muddy. He straightened his shoulders as he reached the edge of the woods, and breathed in the crisp air. Winter was definitely on its way. MacAaroni smiled, for the first time the southern lands might actually be pleasant. He pauses for a while, just staring at the woods, contemplating what has happened and what will happen, especially now war was imminent. Not that MacAaroni was that bothered; he didn't really like killing people, but the fight would be good. What worried him was picking the right side. For whatever side the Feegles joined would ultimately win, he was sure of that after watching the fighting of the southerners, and even the other linovel. They just didn't have the bottle for a big scrap, that was their problem. That, and the fact that the southerners are a bunch of jessies, MacAaroni grinned at the thought. Shaking his head out of his reverie, he takes one last look around, and begins to enter the silent woods of Big Brother. |
| MacAaroni |
posted 10/17/06 6:17 PM
The Feegle strides through the woods, with a specific place in mind. Still, he does walk slowly enough to take in the scent of the forest, and feel... something... in the air, something not quite real. Small creatures scurry around on the forest floor, seemingly aware of his presence but not disturbed by it. It is not long until MacAaroni reaches the area near to where the beast attacked them, and soon he stands before the blighted tree. MacAaroni smiles, for the tree has already begun to heal, green leaves sprouting from even the lower branched most heavily damaged, and a new layer of bark begins to cover the old wounds. Content with the trees state, he moves yet deeper into the woods, past where he had passed the Forests test, and into the grove where he had realised that the garrolous old feegle was the the Guardian of Big Brother. MacAaroni carefully laid out all his weapons in front of him, and sat cross legged on a fallen tree, and breathed deeply. Yes, this was perfect. He took another deep breath, and closed his eyes, opening his ears to the woods, and his senses to the... something.. he couldn't quite grasp. |
| MacAaroni |
posted 12/1/06 3:46 PM
A month later, and the Feegle leaves the woods. He has survived on game, and several large kegs. Now the drink has run dry, so MacAaroni thought it was time to leave. He heads out, and wanders north til he stumbles across a tavern. He walks in and meets a wall of silence. MacAaroni looks at the faces in the tavern, all turned towards him with hosility in their eyes. As chance would have it, MacAaroni has wandered into the tavern of another Feegle family, one that his great grandparents had fallen out with many years ago. No-one really remembers why they fell out, except it had to do with a party, far too much drink even for Feegles, and several randy goats. Some things are just unforgiveable. As the first few Feegles rise, holding a mix of bottles, chairs and commemorative plates, MacAaroni smiles and cracks his neck. It's been a month of solitude, and he would hate for his skills to get rusty. He drops his weapons in a neat pile by the door, all except for his new favourite stick, and beckons with one hand... |
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